Chapter 10: Life outside the Karlsschule

The storm

Now, Schiller must, as a regiment doctor, work under the command of General Auge for as little as 18 Florins per month, just like the other doctors in the ducal army, a salary barely sufficient to pay for his basic expenses. He was still living in the premises of the Karlsschule, because he still could not find lodging in Stuttgart. Even if he has received the permission to live in the city, he was still forbidden to visit or see his mother and sister.

For the moment, he was still fully busy with his new duties as doctor, however, as soon as he would finish his day, would he, together with the other companions of arms, actively looking for a lodging around the garrison. It was indeed not an easy task to do as their salary would not even allow them to rent their own apartment or even to rent a decent room in a decent house.

As Schiller was preparing himself to leave forever the buildings of the Karlsschule, the storm of destiny would again forcefully take him in its whirls.

The death of a friend

The day was going to its end, all the classes have ceased and the students were all gathering in small, loud groups in the halls before dinner, exchanging the last news and comments about the whereabouts that took places in the academy in the last hours.

As Schiller, with his medical documents and tools was back from the garrison, Petersen and Hoven, running almost through the hall, short breathing and rather agitated, were directed themselves to him.

„Frederick, Weckherlin, was brought to the infirmary! He was seized by violent fever after lunch and is now in a bed in the infirmary!” would Petersen tell him, among short breathes.

„Sure. But that is nothing new. He has had violent fever before, and has always came out in good shape.“, would Schiller reply, not at all surprised by the news.

„Frederick, its serious! The Doctor had already called for his parents. It is really serious, you must come immediately by his side!“ would, however, Petersen, with a trace of anguish in his voice, repeat.

"Dear Johann Christian! Dear Friend!", could Schiller only softly say to himself as he was preparing to leave the crowded hall.

As he arrived in the infirmary, he saw immediately the bed near which a woman, pale but dignified, was sitting, and on which Weckherlin was lying, unconscious. Friedrich Schiller could not utter a word, so moved he was to see the lifeless body of his friend, in the bleak of the evening in this otherwise desolate infirmary.

-“What happened?“ would he ask, in truth to himself than to anyone present, in particular.

He was then told that after lunch, Weckherlin would be brought there in order to seek for medicines and care, however, after that he was given medicine, he fell unconscious and has not recovered his mind ever since.