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to go and return without being recognised. Suspicion was directed towards him. Itzig has just attained to the height of such prosperity as an Itzig can contemplate. He is rich; he is on the point of being married to the blooming Rosalie, the daughter of Ehrenthal; the wedding guests are assembled; he is talking rapidly; he is the object of general congratulation. The door opens, and a gesture from his clerk tells him that he is being sought for. He knows why. Without a pause, he escapes from the room, flies into the street, and hides amongst the darkest avenues he can find. In this state he is irresistibly attracted to the very spot where he had committed the murder; his imagination is familiar with it, and it is the best hiding-place he knows. Down these dark steps he treads-this time alone. Yet not alone, for the figure of the old man whom he had led down those steps a little time ago, appears so vividly before him that his limbs tremble; he is scared and bewildered, loses his foothold, and falls into the water. The river carries him too away.
The more lively and agreeable part of the novel is chiefly sustained by Herr Von Fink, a personage a great deal too important to be dealt with in a paragraph or two, and whom, therefore, we must leave entirely undescribed. Among the subordinate parts, the most humorous is that of old Sturm the porter. If the humour is of a somewhat lumbering character, it yet suits the huge figure and slow movements of the man. His great size and strength are brought dexterously before the imagination, and harmonise very well with the honest, simple-minded, but exceedingly ob scure processes of thought to which he is addicted. A man cased to the throat in stiff leather aprons, and dealing with enormous hogsheads, must be supposed to have a slow movement of mind. His deductions are not precisely those which other men arrive at. His son Karl goes with Anton into Poland, and when there, loses two fingers of his right hand. As this prevents Karl from writing, the old porter concludes that he cannot possibly be written to. Of
course, he says, there can be no communication between us; and he therefore writes his letter to Anton.
Sturm carries his notions of the differences of race further than any contemporaneous philosopher we are acquainted with. Porters have a quite peculiar constitution; your science of physiology does not apply to porters. They live only to the age of fifty-no genuine, thoroughbred porter lives longer; Sturm's father and grandfather died at or before that age. It is a destiny. Medicine and rules of diet are very well for other men - useless for porters. Much beer, and occasionally mixed with olive oil-a mixture nauseous perhaps to other men, but agreeable to porters-is indispensable. Above all, they are practical men, and in the word "practical" Sturm concentrates all the wisdom appropriate to porters.
Anton pays a visit to the honest Hercules, to talk with him about the prospects of his son Karl. By way of being "practical," we suppose, the porter lives in a small house, so low that "if he had ever drawn himself up to his full height, he would infallibly have carried off the roof."
"I am delighted to see you in my house, sir,' said Sturm, taking Anton's hand in his immense grasp as gently as he could.
"It is rather small for
Sturm,' answered Anton, laughing. never thought you so large as I do now.'
"My father was still taller,' was the complacent reply; taller and broader. He was the chief of the porters, and the strongest man in the place; and yet a small barrel, not half so high as you are, was the death of him. Be seated, sir,' said he, lifting an oaken chair, so heavy that Anton could hardly move it. Karl has told me that he has been to see you, and that you were most kind. He is a good boy, but he is a falling-off as to size. His mother was a little woman,' added Sturm mournfully, draining a quart of beer to the last drop. 'It is draught beer,' he said apologetically; 'may I offer you a glass? It is a custom amongst us to drink no other, but certainly we drink this the whole day through, for our work is heating.'
"Your son wishes to become one of your number,' said Anton.
"A porter!' rejoined the giant.
'No; that he never shall.'
Then laying his hand confidentially on Antou's knee, 'It would never do; my dear departed wife besought me against it on her deathbed. And why? Our calling is respectable, as you, sir, best know. There are not many who have the requisite strength, and still fewer who have the requisite
"Integrity,' said Anton.
"You are right,' nodded Sturm. 'Always to have wares of every kind in immense quantities under our eyes, and never to touch one of them, that is not in everybody's line; and our earnings are very fair too. My dear departed saved a good deal of money, gold as well as silver. But that is not in my way. For why? If a man be practical, he need not plague himself about money, and Karl will be a practical man. But he must not be a porter. His mother would not hear of it.'
"Your work is very laborious,' suggested Anton.
"Laborious!' laughed Sturm; 'it may be laborious for the weak, but it is not that. It is this,' and he filled his glass. 'It is the draught beer.'
"Anton smiled. I know that you and your colleagues drink a good deal of
this thin stuff.'
"A good deal,' said Sturm with selfcomplacency; it is a custom of oursit always has been so; porters must be strong men, true men, and beer-drinkers! Water would weaken us, so would brandy; there is nothing for it but draught beer and olive oil. Look here, sir,' said he, mixing a small glassful of fine oil and beer, stirring plenty of sugar into it, and drinking off the nauseous compound, this is a secret of ours, and makes an arm like this,' and he laid his on the table, and vainly endeavoured to span it. But there is a drawback. Have you ever seen an old porter? No; for there are none. Fifty is the greatest age they have ever reached. My father was fifty when he died, and the one we lately
buried-Mr Schröter was at the funeral
-was forty-nine. I have still two years before me, however.'
Anton looked at him anxiously. 'But, Sturm, since you know this, why not be more moderate?"
"Moderate!' asked Sturm; what is moderate? It never gets into our heads. Twenty quarts a-day is not much, if you know nothing of it. However, Mr Wohlfart, it is on this account that my dear departed did not choose that Karl should be a porter. As for that, few men do live to be much more than fifty, and they have all sorts of ailments
that we know nothing about. But such were my wife's wishes, and so it must be.'"
On another occasion, when the porter, having approximated to the age of fifty, began to think he must be very ill, Anton inquires,
"What says the doctor to your complaint?'
The doctor!' said old Sturm; 'if he were to be asked about me, he would have enough to say. But we do not ask him. Between ourselves, there is no use in a doctor. They may know what is the matter with many men- that I don't deny; but how should they know what is the matter with us? Not one of them can lift a barrel.' "
No one can have read the quotations we have made without noticing the ease and fluency and idiomatic force of the translation. Two English translations of this novel have simultaneously appeared, both by ladies. If it be the duty of a critic to read the same novel twice over, we must plead guilty here to a dereliction of duty; we have read only one of these translations: we are spared at least from making any invidious comparisons; we take it for granted that both are good. The translation before us, by L. C. C., is very spirited and agreeable. It has been censured, we understand, on account of certain abridgments and curtailments, made with a view of accommodating the novel to the taste of the English reader. We are not disposed to join in this censure, for we really think that the present version would have been improved if some further curtailments had been made. We get very tired of that Polish estate, with all the details of its management, to which the Baron and his family are compelled to retire; we are almost as glad to quit it as Anton himself must have been.
As to the general question, how far a translator is justified in curtailing his original author, let us make what old Sturm himself would acknowledge to be a "practical" observation. When an author has obtained a world-wide reputation, nothing but a faithful and complete rendering of his work will be tolerated. This the public demand; this the translator
sets himself to give. If parts are dull, if whole pages are languid, he has no responsibility; his, only responsibility is to be just and faithful. But when a translator introduces, for the first time, some foreign writer very little known to his countrymen, he has to conciliate the taste of his own nation. No great name as yet overshadows the pages of the work; the English reader has not asked for any translation, is not solicitous to know what the great man has saidcares only to be amused. If, under
these circumstances, the translator omits and abridges, who is there to find fault? Not the English public, for its pleasure has been especially consulted; not the author, for his work, by these means, has been rendered more acceptable to a foreign people. And if the work prove one of permanent interest, the matter rights itself. The once unknown author has become a celebrated man, and the public demands, and will receive, the full and faithful translation.
THE SCOTTISH UNIVERSITIES.
WE have hitherto abstained from taking an active part in the discussions regarding the present state of the Scottish Universities-a subject which, for the last year or two, has attracted no inconsiderable share of public attention. That our silence was not the result of indifference may be gathered from the fact, that in the Magazine the rights of these Universities to a more generous acknowledgment on the part of the State were advocated, and their utility explained, long before there were any symptoms of the present active agitation. But at the very commencement of that agitation, and still more during its progress, it became apparent to us that the men who, with the best possible intentions, were most prominent in demanding a reform, reconstitution, or enlargement of those venerable national institutions, were either inclined to advance educational theories of a Utopian kind, or were not thoroughly conversant with the details of the system which they professed themselves eager to improve. We foresaw that a great deal of crude matter, and of unprofitable if not extravagant suggestion, would be poured forth in pamphlet and from platform before the general mind was ready for rational consideration; and we therefore determined to wait until the hubbub had somewhat subsided, in the hope that we might then receive a patient and impartial hearing. In saying this, we mean no disrespect to any of the gentlemen who have taken
part in a somewhat difficult controversy. Whatever we may think of the soundness of their individual opinions, we cheerfully acknowledge that they have done good service to the Universities by directing the public attention to their state, prospects, and efficiency; nor do we, by any means, intend to convey the impression that we reject en masse the whole of their ideas, though we certainly disapprove of some. We are further indebted to them for this, that their exertions have called into the field men of great capacity, experience, and strength of judgmentamong whom we may be allowed to particularise the Earl of Elgin, Lord Chief-Justice Campbell, Sir John M'Neill, and Mr Inglis, now Lord Rector of the University of Aberdeen-who have not only expressed, but are actively showing the interest which they feel in the welfare of the Scottish Universities, and who are eminently qualified to decide what is really required in order to raise these institutions to the highest point of efficiency.
We propose, in this article, to offer a few remarks upon the present state and working of the Universities as educational establishments, with the view of explaining our ideas, derived from considerable experience and close observation, as to the internal reforms which are most urgently required; and also as to the amount of countenance which they receive, or ought to receive, from the State. The latter topic seems to us of pecu
liar importance at a time when examinations have been instituted as an indispensable requisite for obtaining entrance into many branches of the public service, more especially as very grave objections have been taken to the method in which those examinations have hitherto been conducted. But, before entering into details, it may be necessary for the information of many of our readers to explain what is the course of study, and what the mode of teaching pursued in the Scottish Universities. They are institutions radically different in kind from Oxford and Cambridge. They were, all of them, founded long before the union of the kingdoms; and although, in some respects, their scope has been materially widened, no decided or violent change has been made in their fundamental system. They were originally intended to afford, and they do still offer, the advantages of liberal education to a numerous class of young men, who, in England, could never have joined a University; and if, in some respects, they may be considered inferior in classical teaching to the great Southern establishments, they at least extend the benefits of instruction to a far greater number in proportion to the relative population of the kingdoms; and, moreover, it is undeniable that they occupy a wider field. This much we premise, simply to show that there is no common ground for instituting a comparison between the methods pursued at the Universities of Oxford or Cambridge, and those of Edinburgh or Glasgow. Whatever improvement may be suggested for either-assimilation, even were it desirable, is plainly out of the question.
We shall, for the sake of illustration, select the University of Edinburgh, both on account of its metropolitan importance, and because, in so far as the State is concerned, it has received the smallest share of support in the way of endowment. The cry for reform, indeed, is confined almost exclusively to Edinburgh. Glasgow and St Andrews appear quiescent; and what agitation prevails in Aberdeen is chiefly owing to the circumstance that there are two Universities King's College and
Marischal College within the boundaries of the granitic city. Therefore we think that a description of the system pursued in Edinburgh will be the best foundation for our commentary.
In Scotland the words "University" and "College" are synonymous, and are used indiscriminately. Collegiate life, as it exists in the great establishments of England, is utterly unknown. The students do not live together, within bounds, but find their residences, according to their means, in the towns; and as they are for the most part divided into "Faculties," to which separate branches of study are assigned, they have little common intercourse, unless they are fellow-students in the same class. There are four Faculties
these being Arts, Divinity, Law, and Medicine-the two latter being wholly unconnected with the others. It is not required from the Students of Law or Medicine that they shall have previously passed through the Faculty of Arts, or even attended a limited number of the classes of which that Faculty consists. Each Faculty has the power of examining for their degrees, and these examinations are separately conducted; the degrees being nominally conferred by the whole University, but in reality granted by the Faculties. The Faculties of Law and Medicine are therefore strictly professional, and exist for the purpose of imparting to students special instruction in those branches alone; but we repeat that they have no connection whatever with the Faculty of Arts, the nature of which we shall presently explain. The Faculty of Divinity, however, is closely connected with the Faculty of Arts; for it is required that all students, before passing into the former Faculty, must have attended certain classes belonging to the latter-a wise provision, in so far as it goes, because it insures that every clergyman shall have received the advantages of a liberal education, though there may still be room for improvement. And here it is proper to explain that the rules enforced by the Free and United Presbyterian Churches for securing the education of their probationers, are very nearly the same with those
laid down by the Established Church; and that, notwithstanding the various schisms which have afflicted Presbyterian Scotland, the Universities, owing to their unsectarian character, have retained the public confidence, No religious test was ever required from students; and none is now exacted from Professors, with the exception of those who are appointed to chairs of Theology.
It is not so easy to define the character of the Faculty of Arts as it exists in the University of Edinburgh. Nominally it is held to comprehend all the Professors who are not attached to Law, Medicine; or Divinity; but as an operative Faculty for determining degrees in Arts, it is much more limited. Thus, in order to qualify himself for the degree of B.A., the student must have attended the classes of Humanity (that is, Latin), Greek, Mathematics, Logic and Metaphysics, and Moral Philosophy. Before he can present himself for the degree of M.A., he must also undergo an examination in Natural Philosophy, and in Rhetoric and Belles Lettres. Hence, practically, the power of examining for degrees in arts is vested in seven Professors; although there are five others, those of Astronomy, His tory, Agriculture, Music, and Technology, who are held to belong to the Faculty of Arts, and who all have votes in the Senate. But there is another remarkable peculiarity, that attendance upon one class in the curriculum-that of Rhetoric-is not compulsory upon students who pass from Arts to Divinity, unless they offer themselves for the degree of M.A. As the Rhetoric class is the only one in which the arts of vernacular composition and delivery are systematically taught, this omission, which has the sanction of the Church, may appear a strange one; but the explanation probably is, that in the other Universities of Scotland the chair of Rhetoric is combined with that of Logic. None of the Presbyterian Churches require that those presenting themselves for ordination shall be Graduates in Arts.
Any one may become a member of the University by simply enrolling his name in the matriculation books, on payment of a trifling fee. He may
then attend any class he pleases, by applying to the Professor for a ticket, which, in the Faculty of Arts, is limited to three guineas. Thus, supposing that he attends three classes during a winter session, reaching from the beginning of November to the end of April, his whole direct College fees do not exceed ten guineas; but more frequently, students restrict themselves to two classes in each session, in which case the expenses are diminished to seven. The number of those who graduate in arts is very small-for this reason, that such a degree confers no privilege whatever; it is a mere barren title. So soon as the student has passed through the curriculum, his connection with the University closes; and this is perhaps the most discour aging feature of Scottish collegiate education.
Until very recently, no entrance examination was made compulsory before matriculation or enrolment in any class; but three years ago the patrons of the University (that is, the Town-Council) laid down a rule that there should be an entrance examination in the department of Greek, in so far as regarded the junior class. The immediate effect of that rule was to decrease the attendance; and it is understood to be now abandoned, if not formally rescinded; option being given to the students to take their examination after an attendance of three months. This absence of entrance examination is a point deserving of much attention, and one which is not generally understood in all its bearings. We shall have occasion to revert to it hereafter.
The annual number of literary students, matriculated as such in the University of Edinburgh, is between five and six hundred, of whom but small proportion go through the entire curriculum. Except for divinity students, and those who intend to become candidates for degrees, strict entrance to the classes, according to the form of the curriculum, is unnecessary; and, in consequence, a very large number of young men take two or three classes, as may suit their convenience or inclination, without proceeding any farther. Also it is a common practice for gentlemen of fortune, officers of