Prague, I
divided my time between Hosterwitz, Blasewitz, and Dresden. In the latter
city I met among other persons, principally old friends, the son of my
uncle Brandenstein, an Austrian lieutenant on leave of absence. I spent
many a pleasant evening with him and his comrades, who were also on
leave. These young gentlemen considered the Italians, against whom they
fought, as rebels, while a cousin of my uncle, then Colonel von
Brandenstein, but afterwards promoted in the Franco-Austrian war in 1859
and 1866 to the rank of master of ordnance, held a totally different
opinion. This clever, warmhearted soldier understood the Italians and
their struggle for unity and freedom, and judged them so justly and
therefore favorably, that he often aroused the courteous opposition of
his younger comrades. I did not neglect old friends, however, and when I
did not go to the theatre in the evening I ended the day with my aunt at
Blasewitz. But, on my mother's account, I was never long absent from
Hosterwitz. I enjoyed being with her so much. We drove and walked
together, and discussed everything the past had brought and the future
promised.

Yet I longed for academic freedom, and especially to sit at the feet of
an Ernst Curtius, and be initiated by Waitz into the methodical study of
history.

The evening before my departure my mother drove with me to Blasewitz,
where there was an elegant entertainment at which the lyric poet Julius
Hammer, the author of "Look Around You and Look Within You," who was to
become a dear friend of mine, extolled in enthusiastic verse the delights
of student liberty and the noble sisters Learning and Poesy.

The glowing words echoed in my heart and mind after I had torn myself
from the arms of my mother and of the woman who, next to her, was dearest
to me on earth, my aunt, and was travelling toward my goal. If ever the
feeling that I was born to good fortune took possession of me, it was
during that journey.

I did not know what weariness meant, and when, on reaching Gottingen, I
learned that the students' coffee-house was still closed and that no one
would arrive for three or four days, I went to Cassel to visit the royal
garden in Wilhelmshohe.

At the station I saw a gentleman who looked intently at me. His face,
too, seemed familiar. I mentioned my name, and the next instant he had
embraced and kissed me. Two Keilhau friends had met, and, with sunshine
alike in our hearts and in the blue sky, we