The Life and Works of Friedrich Schiller | Page 9

offer
himself as opponent at their disputations, and so forth. He was very
proud of showing off the school to visitors. His birthday and
Franziska's were festal occasions, at which he would distribute the
prizes in person and allow the winners, if of gentle birth, to kiss his
hand; if commoners, to kiss the hem of his garment.
A modern reader will be very ready with his criticism of these
educational arrangements. The constant and petty surveillance, the
deliberate alienation of boys from all ties of home and kindred, the
systematic training in duplicity and adulation, were certainly not well
calculated for a school of manhood. Schiller himself, after his escape
from the academy, was wont to speak very bitterly of the education that
he had received there. Nevertheless the school had its good points,
especially after the removal to Stuttgart, in 1775. Here it became a
combination of university (minus the theological faculty) with a school
of art, a school of technology and a military academy proper. Several of
the professors were inspiring teachers who made friends of their
students. The fame of the institution brought together promising young
men from all parts of Germany and from foreign parts; and several of
them besides Schiller attained distinction in after-life.[8] There was
thus intellectual comradeship of the very best kind. And there was
much freedom in the choice of studies.
But the solid merits of the academy were the growth of time; in the
beginning it was, for Schiller at least, mere chaos and misery. The boy
grew rapidly into a lank, awkward youngster for whom the military
discipline was a great hardship; he never got entirely rid of the stiff gait
and ungainly bearing which resulted from these early struggles with the
unattainable. Frequent illness led to a bad record on the books of the
faculty. In 'conduite' he made but a poor showing, and he was several
times billeted for untidiness. In Latin and religion he got along fairly

well, and in Greek he actually took a prize toward the end of the year
1773. But the Greek which procured him this distinction hardly went
beyond the rudiments and was mostly brought with him from
Ludwigsburg. For mathematics he had but little talent. His bitterest trial,
however, came with the law studies which he was obliged to take up in
his second year. A dry subject, a dull teacher and an immature,
reluctant pupil made a hopeless combination. And so he got the name
of a dullard. During the whole of the year 1775 it is recorded that he
was at the foot of his class.
Two bits of writing have come down to give us a glimpse of the boy's
mind during these two years of helpless floundering. A detestable
practice of the school authorities required the pupils to criticise one
another in moral disquisitions. On one occasion the duke gave out the
theme: 'Who is the meanest among you?' Schiller did his task in Latin
distichs which have been preserved. They show a healthy feeling for
the odiousness of the business, but he cleverly shifts the responsibility
to Dux serenissimus, who must of course know what is good for him.
Then he proceeds to depict one Karl Kempff as the worst boy in
school,--_defraudans socios, rudis ignarusque_,--but he hopes that the
wretched sinner will yet mend his ways and become worthy of his
gracious prince's favor.
In a much longer prose document he portrays the characters of some
two score schoolmates and finally his own. He begins modestly with a
deprecatory address to his most gracious sovereign, without whose
wise order he would never think of setting himself up as a judge of his
fellows. The portraits are amusingly ponderous in style, but their
substance is very creditable to their author's head and heart. Toward the
end he burns more incense to the duke: 'This prince who has enabled
my parents to do well by me; this prince through whom God will attain
his ends with me; this father who wishes to make me happy, is and
must be much more estimable to me than parents who depend upon his
favor.' He frankly confesses his own shortcomings: 'You will find me',
he writes, 'often overhasty, often frivolous. You will hear that I am
obstinate, passionate and impatient; but you will also hear of my
sincerity, my fidelity and my good heart.' He owns that he has not thus

far made the best use of his gifts, but he pleads illness in excuse. His
gracious prince knows how eagerly he has taken up the study of the law
and how happy he will be some day to enter the service of his country.
But, he ventures to insinuate, he would be very much happier still if he
could serve