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and satisfactory. As the lecturer spoke slowly, there was no difficulty in taking him down verbatim. The subject is complicated, 80 complicated, in fact, that I can not hope to give the reader even an outline. I can only call attention to one or two cardinal points. The Roman Law has a much more philosophical conception of succession by inheritance than the English Law. It regards the personality of the deceased as in a measure continued after death, that is to say, all the property, whether real or personal, all claims held by, all debts due by the deceased, everything in short that does not perish with him, devolves as a unit upon one or more persons who represent him, who continue his 'existence, as it were. The heres succeeds to the defunct, is entitled to all his property, is under obligation to pay all his debts, heres defuncti locum sustinet. Our Common Law, hampered from the outset by the feudal distinction between real and personal property, has never yet succeeded in elaborating a satisfactory theory of inheritance. The Roman Law, on the other hand, labored under a difficulty peculiar to itself. It was in the beginning extremely illiberal in doctrine and rigid in its forms. The Praetorian edicts effected gradually a thorough equitable reform, by admitting the claims of kinsmen who were not entitled under the old law of the XII, Tables, by smoothing over mistakes in drawing up wills, and by checking as much as possible, in favor of lineal descendants, the privilege of disinheritance. The development of the Roman law of inheritance is, in fine, the history of a protracted struggle between the narrow-mindedness of the old hereditas and the equity of the Praetorian bonorum possessio. The Praetor had no right to repeal or formally overthrow the old law, but what he was unable to accomplish directly, he did indirectly. Like the English Chancellor, the keeper of his Majesty's conscience, he could not say that such and such a claimant was not legally entitled, but he could in various ways prevent him from enforcing the claim.

A most interesting course of lectures was that delivered by Herrmann on Ecclesiastical Law. The lecturer's delivery was fluent, almost too fluent for those who wished to take complete notes, but his language was clear, and the substance of his remarks was, to mo at least, intensely interesting. I can not but regret that no one of our law schools has seen fit to introduce such a topic in its curriculum. Surely, in view of the conflict between Church and State now raging over Europe, it is of the highest importance that the lawyers and jurists of every land calling itself civilized should be acquainted with the principles involved in the issue. The primitive organization of the Christian Church, the growth of the hierarchy, the concentration of power first in the hands of the priests, then of the bishops, finally of the Pope, the Oriental Schism, the Reformation, the Declaration of Gallican Independence, Josephismus in Austria, the scope and functions of Concordats, the claims of the Church to the exclusive regulation of marriage and divorce, the provisions of the Council of Trent on this point, the Westphalian Treaty of Peace, are all subjects fraught with the deepest interest to every liberal thinker. Hermann's lectures were to me a pleasure rather than a burden, while the notes then taken have since been of great service to me on more than one occasion. I am indebted to them for a very clear and comprehensive survey of the march of Christian society during eighteen centuries.

Göttingen being an exclusively Protestant university, nearly all the professors and students were in my day Protestant. Hermann treated the subject of Ecclesiastical Law, accordingly, from the Protestant point of view, but without becoming polemic. His exposition of the theory and doctrines of the Catholic Church, being based upon Catholic authorities, was eminently fair. Indeed, the object of the course was to acquaint the hearer with the facts of history and the actual shaping of principles and doctrines, rather than to defend or to controvert any one system. Herrmann now occupies the most important ecclesiastical position in Prussia, to wit, the presidency of the Upper Consistory in Berlin.

The reader can perceive that two lectures a day, and an elaborate opinion in writing once a week, to say nothing of collateral reading, did not leave much unemployed time. But the most searching part of the semestrial work has yet to be mentioned. Dr. Maxen succeeded in forming his Repitorium, or Exegeticum, as he called it. The three members besides myself were students in their sixth semester, preparing for the State examination at Cello in the fall. We met six times a week, at the doctor's rooms, from twelve to one o'clock. The exercise was what medical students call a "quiz," and did ample justice to the name. We students naturally thought that we knew at least some law, but one or two quizzes were sufficient to convince us that we knew nothing. The doctor's method was, in appearance, as immethodical as one could imagine. We never knew before the hour what topic he might take up, and consequently were unable to prepare ourselves. This seemed to me unsatisfactory, and I ventured to say as much to the doctor, in private. At this he only laughed, and replied: “That is precisely what I aim at doing, to make you dissatisfied. If I gave you ten or twenty pages of Vangerow or Arndts to recite upon, you would get the work by heart, I dare say, and forget it again in a week. But if I catch you to-day on some point that has never occurred to you, you will feel vexed at yourself, and when you return to your room you will look it up carefully, and then you will not forget it. My business is not to discover what you know, but what you do not know, and the best way of doing that is to kecp changing the subject unexpectedly. I wish to catch you unprepared, for then I shall certainly detect the defects in your reading. Besides, is it not the bost preparation for


the examination? What you need is not only the knowledge of facts and principles, but the ability to answer all sorts of questions that may be sprung upon you. Relieve your mind by considering that every hour spent with me is an informal examination, and not a recitation, and be assured that you are not the first set of young men that I have had in training."

Notwithstanding the doctor's assurances, and the firm confidence that I had in his ability and sincerity, I felt many misgivings for the first month or two. It seemed as though we were making no progress, as though our modest but hard-bought attainments were a sort of ten-pins, set up only to be knocked down again. Perhaps the reader has taken boxing lessons himself, or at least has seen one or more of them. In that case, he will be able to appreciate the simile, when I liken myself and my three fellow victims to pupils in the manly art of self-defence being “punished” mercilessly by the master. Mr. Bristed, in his book on Cambridge, p. 193 sqq. (ed. of 1873), has given a very racy account of the way in which “coaching" is conducted in an English university. I regret extremely my inability to sketch a like tableau of our quiz in the Georgia Augusta. Dr. Maxen “slanged” us plentifully, in the technical sense of that term; that is, he did not smooth over our ignorance with lavenderwater, but made us feel it keenly. Yet his method differed radically from that followed by Mr. Bristed's coach, Travis, and furthermore, the subjects themselves, the Supplices of Æschylus and the body of the Roman Law, can scarcely be treated after the same fashion. Mr. Bristed's coaching is a mere recitation, that is, a literal translation, with running commentary, of a given passage in the Supplices, reproduced, I presume, from notes taken at the time. The reader, even

I if not a classical scholar, can at least follow the recitation line by line. With regard to our quiz, on the other hand, I must remark, in the first place, that the subject is so foreign to the reader that, in order to make a description barely intelligible, I should be forced to give about six pages of prefatory explanation to one of description, and, in the 'next place, that the quiz was an examination, not a recitation, the subject being changed abruptly every few minutes. My note-book is filled with names and dates, detached fragments of law, references to authorities, queries to be pursued at leisure, and the like, but it contains nothing that would give the reader a satisfactory idea of how the work was done.

At all events, there was the satisfaction of perceiving that my three co-workers were not much better off than myself. They knew more law, but they did not have their knowledge in a more available shape. Practically, we are on an equality. The real benefit of the quiz came after the hour. Having the afternoons and evenings to myself, I spent the time in reviewing, with the utmost care, what the doctor had run over hastily in the forenoon. Still smarting under the lash of criticism, to speak figuratively, and having some definite object of search, I ransacked Puchta, Arndts, Goeschen, Vangerow, and my notes, for everything that might throw additional light on the topics that were started by the doctor from day to day. I made no attempt to prepare for the doctor in advance. There was enough to do to follow up his hints as fast as they were given. After pursuing this method for two months, the conviction finally dawned upon me that the doctor was correct. The quiz was not only a powerful stimulant, but it gave some object to my private reading. Instead of droning over one book at a time, page after page and chapter after chapter in consecutive order, I was forced to go through each book every day, from cover to cover, in search of examples, definitions, exceptions, authorities, whatever, in short, might aid me in understanding more clearly half a dozen points raised, but not exhausted in the quiz.

By the end of the semester I made a further discovery. Dr. Maxen's plan, seemingly immethodical, was in truth the highest kind of method. Running over my note-book, I could see that the doctor had covered the law of obligations, at least in its general principles, almost entire, and had taken in a large portion of the law of real property and family relations, and not a little of the law of inheritance. While zigzagging to right and left in a manner that gave no indication from one day to the next of a deep-laid plan, the doctor had succeeded nevertheless in'starting us on all the more important subjects. One object he had certainly realized: he had taught us how to study. When the last quiz was ended, and we broke up as a class, I felt that I had been shifted to an altogether new stand-point, that success in the examination would probably resolve itself into a matter of time and endurance.

I have stated, on a previous occasion, that the relation between student and professor is generally formal, savoring little of intimacy. There are brilliant exceptions, however, and it was my good fortune to profit directly by one of these exceptional cases. About the middle of July, Dr. Mazen said to me: “It is time that you should call on Ribbentropp and confer with him on the subject of your examination. He is not the Dean of the faculty, but he is the oldest and most influential member. You must make him interested in you. There is no need of a letter of introduction; you will find him very charming and affable."

The Geheimjustizrath v. Ribbentropp occupied a most enviable position. He had made his reputation as a jurist while still a young man, by his treatise on the law of Correal Obligations. Coming into the possession of a handsome property by inheritance, in addition to his salary as professor, he was able to live in what, for Göttingen, was decidedly style. He occupied a large house by himself, something very unusual in a German university town; the parlors and dining

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room were on the second floor, his study and private apartments on the third. Over the ground floor the housekeeper reigned supreme. Gossip had it that the housekeeper was the only person in the town who disturbed the mental quiet (Gemüthsruhe) of the Geheimjustizrath. Not that she was vinegar-aspected or harsh of manner; but, like all spinsters of a certain age, she had come to regard men in general, and old bachelors in particular, as helpless beings, whom it was never safe to trust too long or too far out of sight. The object of this anxious supervision often made a jest of it to his friends.

Summoning up courage, I called upon the Geheimjustizrath, one evening, and running successfully the gauntlet of the housekeeper and under-servant, obtained admission to the sanctum sanctorum, the library. I found a gentleman not over sixty, as well as I could make out, of decidedly distingué bearing, rather short in stature, but with a superbly shaped head, a winning smile, and the most fascinating pair of eyes that I have ever encountered. Whether perfectly black, or only of a very dark brown, I am unable to state from memory; but the play of lambent light emitted from them, joined to the witchery of a humorous smile around the corners of the mouth, gave to the massive forehead and classic features a grace and an animation were

irresistible. I perceived, at the very first glance, that I was dealing with one of nature's noblemen. Speaking frankly, I fell quite in love with the elderly gentleman who received me with such an uncominon blending of French suavity and German simplicity. It was the gracious commencement of an acquaintance that—to me certainly-was to be fraught with benefit and pleasure.

I stated as briefly as possible the object of my visit, mentioned the lectures I had already heard or was then hearing, the text-books I was using, the amount of private reading already accomplished, the private instruction received from Dr. Maxen. I said that I was perfectly aware of the incompleteness and hurried nature of my course of study as a jurist, but that it would be impossible to remain in Germany beyond the coming Christmas, and that I was anxious to take back with me to America tangible evidence of my industry in the shape of a degree. Would he have the kindness to give me his opinion frankly as to my chances of being admitted to exainination, and advise me generally as a friend ?

He listened patiently, with the same bright, flashing look of the eye, and the same good-natured smile. “Stop a moment," he said, “don't you smoke ?” I hesitated. I was a smoker, but then it did not seem to be exactly “the thing” to be puffing at such a solemn audience in the sanctum of a Geheimjustizrath. “Ah!” he continued, “you hesitate. I know you smoke, but you don't like to say so. Wait a moment.” So the great jurist frisked into the adjoining room with the alacrity of a boy let loose from school, and returned, presenting a box of unimpeachable Havanas. “There,”

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