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diff --git a/26572-0.txt b/26572-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..abefa5f --- /dev/null +++ b/26572-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16615 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Chips From A German Workshop. Vol. III. by +F. Max Müller + + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no +restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under +the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or +online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license + + + +Title: Chips From A German Workshop. Vol. III. + +Author: F. Max Müller + +Release Date: September 10, 2008 [Ebook #26572] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHIPS FROM A GERMAN WORKSHOP. VOL. III.*** + + + + + + CHIPS FROM A GERMAN WORKSHOP + + BY + + F. MAX MÜLLER, M. A., + + FOREIGN MEMBER OF THE FRENCH INSTITUTE, ETC. + + VOLUME III. + + ESSAYS ON LITERATURE, BIOGRAPHY, AND ANTIQUITIES. + + NEW YORK: + + CHARLES SCRIBNER AND COMPANY. + + 1871. + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +DEDICATION. +I. GERMAN LITERATURE. + LIST OF EXTRACTS FOR ILLUSTRATING THE HISTORY OF GERMAN LITERATURE. +II. OLD GERMAN LOVE-SONGS. +III. YE SCHYPPE OF FOOLES. +IV. LIFE OF SCHILLER. +V. WILHELM MÜLLER. 1794-1827. +VI. ON THE LANGUAGE AND POETRY OF SCHLESWIG-HOLSTEIN. +VII. JOINVILLE. +VIII. THE JOURNAL DES SAVANTS AND THE JOURNAL DE TRÉVOUX. +IX. CHASOT. +X. SHAKESPEARE. +XI. BACON IN GERMANY. +XII. A GERMAN TRAVELLER IN ENGLAND. +XIII. CORNISH ANTIQUITIES. +XIV. ARE THERE JEWS IN CORNWALL? +XV. THE INSULATION OF ST. MICHAEL’S MOUNT. +XVI. BUNSEN. + LETTERS FROM BUNSEN TO MAX MÜLLER IN THE YEARS 1848 TO 1859. +Footnotes + + + + + + +DEDICATION. + + +TO +FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE, + +IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE OF KIND HELP + +GIVEN TO ME + +IN MY FIRST ATTEMPTS AT WRITING IN ENGLISH, + +AND AS A MEMORIAL + +OF MANY YEARS OF FAITHFUL FRIENDSHIP. + + + + + +I. GERMAN LITERATURE.(1) + + +There is no country where so much interest is taken in the literature of +Germany as in England, and there is no country where the literature of +England is so much appreciated as in Germany. Some of our modern classics, +whether poets or philosophers, are read by Englishmen with the same +attention as their own; and the historians, the novel-writers, and the +poets of England have exercised, and continue to exercise, a most powerful +and beneficial influence on the people of Germany. In recent times, the +literature of the two countries has almost grown into one. Lord Macaulay’s +History has not only been translated into German, but reprinted at Leipzig +in the original; and it is said to have had a larger sale in Germany than +the work of any German historian. Baron Humboldt and Baron Bunsen address +their writings to the English as much as to the German public. The novels +of Dickens and Thackeray are expected with the same impatience at Leipzig +and Berlin as in London. The two great German classics, Schiller and +Goethe, have found their most successful biographers in Carlyle and Lewes; +and several works of German scholarship have met with more attentive and +thoughtful readers in the colleges of England than in the universities of +Germany. Goethe’s idea of a world-literature has, to a certain extent, +been realized; and the strong feeling of sympathy between the best classes +in both countries holds out a hope that, for many years to come, the +supremacy of the Teutonic race, not only in Europe, but over all the +world, will be maintained in common by the two champions of political +freedom and of the liberty of thought,—Protestant England and Protestant +Germany. + +The interest, however, which Englishmen take in German literature has +hitherto been confined almost exclusively to the literature of the last +fifty years, and very little is known of those fourteen centuries during +which the German language had been growing up and gathering strength for +the great triumphs which were achieved by Lessing, Schiller, and Goethe. +Nor is this to be wondered at. The number of people in England, who take +any interest in the early history of their own literature, is extremely +small, and there is as yet no history of English literature worthy of that +name. It cannot be expected, therefore, that in England many people will +care to read in the original the ancient epic poems of the “Nibelunge” or +“Gudrun,” or acquire a grammatical knowledge of the Gothic of Ulfilas and +the Old High-German of Otfried. Gothic, Old High-German, and Middle +High-German are three distinct languages, each possessing its own grammar, +each differing from the others and from Modern German more materially than +the Greek of Homer differs from the Greek of Demosthenes. Even in Germany +these languages are studied only by professional antiquarians and +scholars, and they do not form part of the general system of instruction +in public schools and universities. The study of Gothic grammar alone +(where we still find a dual in addition to the singular and plural, and +where some tenses of the passive are still formed, as in Greek and Latin, +without auxiliary verbs), would require as much time as the study of Greek +grammar, though it would not offer the key to a literature like that of +Greece. Old High-German, again, is as difficult a language to a German as +Anglo-Saxon is to an Englishman; and the Middle High-German of the +“Nibelunge,” of Wolfram, and Walther, nay even of Eckhart and Tauler, is +more remote from the language of Goethe than Chaucer is from Tennyson. + +But, without acquiring a grammatical knowledge of these ancient languages, +there are, I believe, not a few people who wish to know something of the +history of German literature. Nor is this, if properly taught, a subject +of narrow or merely antiquarian interest. The history of literature +reflects and helps us to interpret the political history of a country. It +contains, as it were, the confession which every generation, before it +passed away, has made to posterity. “Without Literary History,” as Lord +Bacon says, “the History of the World seemeth to be as the Statue of +Polyphemus with his eye out; that part being wanting which doth most shew +the spirit and life of the person.” From this point of view the historian +of literature learns to value what to the critic would seem unmeaning and +tedious, and he is loath to miss the works even of mediocre poets, where +they throw light on the times in which they lived, and serve to connect +the otherwise disjointed productions of men of the highest genius, +separated, as these necessarily are, by long intervals in the annals of +every country. + +Although there exists no literature to reward the student of Gothic, yet +every one who cares for the history of Germany and of German thought +should know something of Ulfilas, the great Bishop of the Goths, who +anticipated the work of Luther by more than a thousand years, and who, at +a time when Greek and Latin were the only two respectable and orthodox +languages of Europe, dared for the first time to translate the Bible into +the vulgar tongue of Barbarians, as if foreseeing with a prophetic eye the +destiny of these Teutonic tribes, whose language, after Greek and Latin +had died away, was to become the life-spring of the Gospel over the whole +civilized world. He ought to know something of those early missionaries +and martyrs, most of them sent from Ireland and England to preach the +Gospel in the dark forests of Germany,—men like St. Gall (died 638), St. +Kilian (died 689), and St. Boniface (died 755), who were not content with +felling the sacred oak-trees and baptizing unconverted multitudes, but +founded missionary stations, and schools, and monasteries; working hard +themselves in order to acquire a knowledge of the language and the +character of the people, and drawing up those curious lists of barbarous +words, with their no less barbarous equivalents in Latin, which we still +possess, though copied by a later hand. He ought to know the gradual +progress of Christianity and civilization in Germany, previous to the time +of Charlemagne; for we see from the German translations of the Rules of +the Benedictine monks, of ancient Latin hymns, the Creeds, the Lord’s +Prayer, and portions of the New Testament, that the good sense of the +national clergy had led them to do what Charlemagne had afterwards to +enjoin by repeated Capitularia.(2) It is in the history of German +literature that we learn what Charlemagne really was. Though claimed as a +saint by the Church of Rome, and styled _Empereur Français_ by modern +French historians, Karl was really and truly a German king, proud, no +doubt, of his Roman subjects, and of his title of Emperor, and anxious to +give to his uncouth Germans the benefit of Italian and English teachers, +but fondly attached in his heart to his own mother tongue, to the lays and +laws of his fatherland: feelings displayed in his own attempt to compose a +German grammar, and in his collection of old national songs, fragments of +which may have been preserved to us in the ballads of Hildebrand and +Hadubrand. + +After the death of Charlemagne, and under the reign of the good but weak +King Ludwig, the prospects of a national literature in Germany became +darkened. In one instance, indeed, the king was the patron of a German +poet; for he encouraged the author of the “Heliand” to write that poem for +the benefit of his newly converted countrymen. But he would hardly have +approved of the thoroughly German and almost heathen spirit which pervades +that Saxon epic of the New Testament, and he expressed his disgust at the +old German poems which his great father had taught him in his youth. The +seed, however, which Charlemagne had sown had fallen on healthy soil, and +grew up even without the sunshine of royal favor. The monastery of Fulda, +under Hrabanus Maurus, the pupil of Alcuin, became the seminary of a truly +national clergy. Here it was that Otfried, the author of the rhymed +“Gospel-book” was brought up. In the mean time, the heterogeneous elements +of the Carlovingian Empire broke asunder. Germany, by losing its French +and Italian provinces, became Germany once more. Ludwig the German was +King of Germany, Hrabanus Maurus Archbishop of Mayence; and the spirit of +Charlemagne, Alcuin, and Eginhard was revived at Aachen, Fulda, and many +other places, such as St. Gall, Weissenburg, and Corvey, where schools +were founded on the model of that of Tours. The translation of the +“Harmony of the Gospels,” gives us a specimen of the quiet studies of +those monasteries, whereas the lay on the victory of Louis III. over the +Normans, in 881, reminds us of the dangers that threatened Germany from +the West at the same time that the Hungarians began their inroads from the +East. The Saxon Emperors had hard battles to fight against these invaders, +and there were few places in Germany where the peaceful pursuits of the +monasteries and schools could be carried on without interruption. St. Gall +is the one bright star in the approaching gloom of the next centuries. Not +only was the Bible read, and translated, and commented upon in German at +St. Gall, as formerly at Fulda, but Greek and Roman classics were copied +and studied for educational purposes. Notker Teutonicus is the great +representative of that school, which continued to maintain its reputation +for theological and classical learning, and for a careful cultivation of +the national language, nearly to the close of the eleventh century. At the +court of the Saxon Emperors, though their policy was thoroughly German, +there was little taste for German poetry. The Queen of Otto I. was a +Lombard, the Queen of Otto II. a Greek lady; and their influence was not +favorable to the rude poetry of national bards. If some traces of their +work have been preserved to us, we owe it again to the more national taste +of the monks of St. Gall and Passau. They translate some of the German +epics into Latin verse, such as the poem of the “Nibelunge,” of “Walther +of Aquitain,” and of “Ruodlieb.” The first is lost; but the other two have +been preserved and published.(3) The stories of the Fox and the Bear, and +the other animals,—a branch of poetry so peculiar to Germany, and epic +rather than didactic in its origin,—attracted the attention of the monks; +and it is owing again to their Latin translations that the existence of +this curious style of poetry can be traced back so far as the tenth +century.(4) As these poems are written in Latin, they could not find a +place in a German reading-book; but they, as well as the unduly suspected +Latin plays of the nun Hrosvitha, throw much light on the state of German +civilization during the tenth and eleventh centuries. + +The eleventh century presents almost an entire blank in the history of +literature. Under the Frankish or Salic dynasty, Germany had either to +defend herself against the inroads of Hungarian and Slavonic armies, or it +was the battle-field of violent feuds between the Emperors and their +vassals. The second half of that century was filled with the struggles +between Henry IV. and Pope Gregory VII. The clergy, hitherto the chief +support of German literature, became estranged from the German people; and +the insecurity of the times was unfavorable to literary pursuits. +Williram’s German had lost the classical correctness of Notker’s language, +and the “Merigarto,” and similar works, are written in a hybrid style, +which is neither prose nor poetry. The Old High-German had become a +literary language chiefly through the efforts of the clergy, and the +character of the whole Old High-German literature is preëminently +clerical. The Crusades put an end to the preponderance of the clerical +element in the literature of Germany. They were, no doubt, the work of the +clergy. By using to the utmost the influence which they had gradually +gained and carefully fomented, the priests were able to rouse a whole +nation to a pitch of religious enthusiasm never known before or after. But +the Crusades were the last triumph of the clergy; and with their failure +the predominant influence of the clerical element in German society is +checked and extinguished. + +From the first beginning of the Crusades the interest of the people was +with the knight,—no longer with the priest. The chivalrous Emperors of the +Hohenstaufen dynasty formed a new rallying point for all national +sympathies. Their courts, and the castles of their vassals, offered a new +and more genial home to the poets of Germany than the monasteries of Fulda +and St. Gall. Poetry changed hands. The poets took their inspirations from +real life, though they borrowed their models from the romantic cycles of +Brittany and Provence. Middle High-German, the language of the Swabian +court, became the language of poetry. The earliest compositions in that +language continue for a while to bear the stamp of the clerical poetry of +a former age. The first Middle High-German poems are written by a nun; and +the poetical translation of the Books of Moses, the poem on Anno, Bishop +of Cologne, and the “Chronicle of the Roman Emperors,” all continue to +breathe the spirit of cloisters and cathedral towns. And when a new taste +for chivalrous romances was awakened in Germany; when the stories of +Arthur and his knights, of Charlemagne and his champions, of Achilles, +Æneas, and Alexander, in their modern dress, were imported by French and +Provençal knights, who, on their way to Jerusalem, came to stay at the +castles of their German allies, the first poets who ventured to imitate +these motley compositions were priests, not laymen. A few short extracts +from Konrad’s “Roland” and Lamprecht’s “Alexander” are sufficient to mark +this period of transition. Like Charlemagne, who had been changed into a +legendary hero by French poets before he became again the subject of +German poetry, another German worthy returned at the same time to his +native home, though but slightly changed by his foreign travels, “Reinhard +the Fox.” The influence of Provence and of Flanders is seen in every +branch of German poetry at that time; and yet nothing can be more +different than the same subject, as treated by French and German poets. +The German Minnesänger in particular were far from being imitators of the +Trouvères or Troubadours. There are a few solitary instances of lyric +poems translated from Provençal into German;(5) as there is, on the other +hand, one poem translated from German into Italian,(6) early in the +thirteenth century. But the great mass of German lyrics are of purely +German growth. Neither the Romans, nor the lineal descendants of the +Romans, the Italians, the Provençals, the Spaniards, can claim that poetry +as their own. It is Teutonic, purely Teutonic in its heart and soul, +though its utterance, its rhyme and metre, its grace and imagery, have +been touched by the more genial rays of the brilliant sun of a more +southern sky. The same applies to the great romantic poems of that period. +The first impulse came from abroad. The subjects were borrowed from a +foreign source, and the earlier poems, such as Heinrich von Veldecke’s +“Æneid,” might occasionally paraphrase the sentiments of French poets. But +in the works of Hartmann von Aue, Wolfram von Eschenbach, and Gottfried +von Strassburg, we breathe again the pure German air; and we cannot but +regret that these men should have taken the subjects of their poems, with +their unpronounceable names, extravagant conceits, and licentious manners, +from foreign sources, while they had at home their grand mythology, their +heroic traditions, their kings and saints, which would have been more +worthy subjects than Tristan and Isold, Schionatulander and Sigune. There +were new thoughts stirring in the hearts and minds of those men of the +twelfth and thirteenth centuries. A hundred years before Dante, the German +poets had gazed with their eyes wide open into that infinite reality which +underlies our short existence on earth. To Wolfram, and to many a poet of +his time, the human tragedy of this world presented the same unreal, +transitory, and transparent aspect which we find again in Dante’s “Divine +Comedy.” Everything points to another world. Beauty, love, virtue, +happiness,—everything, in fact, that moves the heart of the poet,—has a +hidden reference to something higher than this life; and the highest +object of the highest poetry seems to be to transfer the mind to those +regions where men feel the presence of a Divine power and a Divine love, +and are lost in blissful adoration. The beginning of the thirteenth +century is as great an era in the history of German literature as the +beginning of the nineteenth. The German mind was completely regenerated. +Old words, old thoughts, old metres, old fashions, were swept away, and a +new spring dawned over Germany. The various branches of the Teutonic race +which, after their inroads into the seats of Roman civilization, had for a +time become separated, were beginning to assume a national +independence,—when suddenly a new age of migration threatened to set in. +The knights of France and Flanders, of England, Lombardy, and Sicily, left +their brilliant castles. They marched to the East, carrying along with +them the less polished, but equally enthusiastic, nobility of Germany. +From the very first the spirit of the Roman towns in Italy and Gaul had +exercised a more civilizing influence on the Barbarians who had crossed +the Alps and the Rhine, whereas the Germans of Germany proper had been +left to their own resources, assisted only by the lessons of the Roman +clergy. Now, at the beginning of the Crusades, the various divisions of +the German race met again, but they met as strangers; no longer with the +impetuosity of Franks and Goths, but with the polished reserve of a +Godefroy of Bouillon and the chivalrous bearing of a Frederick Barbarossa. +The German Emperors and nobles opened their courts to receive their guests +with brilliant hospitality. Their festivals, the splendor and beauty of +their tournaments, attracted crowds from great distances, and foremost +among them poets and singers. It was at such festivals as Heinrich von +Veldecke describes at Mayence, in 1184, under Frederick I., that French +and German poetry were brought face to face. It was here that high-born +German poets learnt from French poets the subjects of their own romantic +compositions. German ladies became the patrons of German poets; and the +etiquette of French chivalry was imitated at the castles of German +knights. Poets made bold for the first time to express their own feelings, +their joys and sufferings, and epic poetry had to share its honors with +lyric songs. Not only France and Germany, but England and Northern Italy +were drawn into this gay society. Henry II. married Eleanor of Poitou, and +her grace and beauty found eloquent admirers in the army of the Crusaders. +Their daughter Mathilde was married to Henry the Lion, of Saxony, and one +of the Provençal poets has celebrated her loveliness. Frenchmen became the +tutors of the sons of the German nobility. French manners, dresses, +dishes, and dances were the fashion everywhere. The poetry which +flourished at the castles was soon adopted by the lower ranks. Travelling +poets and jesters are frequently mentioned, and the poems of the +“Nibelunge” and “Gudrun,” such as we now possess them, were composed at +that time by poets who took their subjects, their best thoughts and +expressions, from the people, but imitated the language, the metre, and +the manners of the court poets. The most famous courts to which the German +poets resorted, and where they were entertained with generous hospitality, +were the court of Leopold, Duke of Austria (1198-1230), and of his son +Frederick II.; of Hermann, Landgrave of Thuringia, who resided at the +Wartburg, near Eisenach (1190-1215); of Berthold, Duke of Zähringen +(1186-1218); and of the Swabian Emperors in general. At the present day, +when not only the language, but even the thoughts of these poets have +become to most of us unintelligible and strange, we cannot claim for their +poetry more than an historical interest. But if we wish to know the men +who took a leading part in the Crusades, who fought with the Emperors +against the Pope, or with the Pope against the Emperors, who lived in +magnificent castles like that of the Wartburg, and founded cathedrals like +that of Cologne (1248), we must read the poetry which they admired, which +they composed or patronized. The subjects of their Romances cannot gain +our sympathy. They are artificial, unreal, with little of humanity, and +still less of nationality in them. But the mind of a poet like Wolfram von +Eschenbach rises above all these difficulties. He has thoughts of his own, +truly human, deeply religious, and thoroughly national; and there are +expressions and comparisons in his poetry which had never been used +before. His style, however, is lengthy, his descriptions tiresome, and his +characters somewhat vague and unearthly. As critics, we should have to +bestow on Wolfram von Eschenbach, on Gottfried von Strassburg, even on +Hartman von Aue and Walther von der Vogelweide, as much of blame as of +praise. But as historians, we cannot value them too highly. If we measure +them with the poets that preceded and those that followed them, they tower +above all like giants. From the deep marks which they left behind, we +discover that they were men of creative genius, men who had looked at life +with their own eyes, and were able to express what they had seen and +thought and felt in a language which fascinated their contemporaries, and +which even now holds its charm over all who can bring themselves to study +their works in the same spirit in which they read the tragedies of +Æschylus, or the “Divina Commedia” of Dante. + +But the heyday of German chivalry and chivalrous poetry was of short +duration. Toward the end of the thirteenth century we begin to feel that +the age is no longer aspiring, and hoping, and growing. The world assumes +a different aspect. Its youth and vigor seem spent; and the children of a +new generation begin to be wiser and sadder than their fathers. The +Crusades languish. Their object, like the object of many a youthful hope, +has proved unattainable. The Knights no longer take the Cross “because God +wills it;” but because the Pope commands a Crusade, bargains for +subsidies, and the Emperor cannot decline his commands. Walther von der +Vogelweide already is most bitter in his attacks on Rome. Walther was the +friend of Frederick II. (1215-50), an Emperor who reminds us, in several +respects, of his namesake of Prussia. He was a sovereign of literary +tastes,—himself a poet and a philosopher. Harassed by the Pope, he +retaliated most fiercely, and was at last accused of a design to extirpate +the Christian religion. The ban was published against him, and his own son +rose in rebellion. Germany remained faithful to her Emperor, and the +Emperor was successful against his son. But he soon died in disappointment +and despair. With him the star of the Swabian dynasty had set, and the +sweet sounds of the Swabian lyre died away with the last breath of +Corradino, the last of the Hohenstaufen, on the scaffold at Naples, in +1268. Germany was breaking down under heavy burdens. It was visited by the +papal interdict, by famine, by pestilence. Sometimes there was no Emperor, +sometimes there were two or three. Rebellion could not be kept under, nor +could crime be punished. The only law was the “Law of the Fist.” The +Church was deeply demoralized. Who was to listen to romantic poetry? There +was no lack of poets or of poetry. Rudolf von Ems, a poet called Der +Stricker, and Konrad von Würzburg, all of them living in the middle of the +thirteenth century, were more fertile than Hartmann von Aue and Gottfried +von Strassburg. They complain, however, that no one took notice of them, +and they are evidently conscious themselves of their inferiority. Lyric +poetry continued to flourish for a time, but it degenerated into an +unworthy idolatry of ladies, and affected sentimentality. There is but one +branch of poetry in which we find a certain originality, the didactic and +satiric. The first beginnings of this new kind of poetry carry us back to +the age of Walther von der Vogelweide. Many of his verses are satirical, +political, and didactic; and it is supposed, on very good authority, that +Walther was the author of an anonymous didactic poem, “Freidank’s +Bescheidenheit.” By Thomasin von Zerclar, or Tommasino di Circlaria, we +have a metrical composition on manners, the “Italian Guest,” which +likewise belongs to the beginning of the thirteenth century.(7) Somewhat +later we meet, in the works of the Stricker, with the broader satire of +the middle classes; and toward the close of the century, Hugo von +Trimberg, in his “Renner,” addresses himself to the lower ranks of German +society, and no longer to princes, knights, and ladies. + +How is this to be accounted for? Poetry was evidently changing hands +again. The Crusades had made the princes and knights the representatives +and leaders of the whole nation; and during the contest between the +imperial and the papal powers, the destinies of Germany were chiefly in +the hands of the hereditary nobility. The literature, which before that +time was entirely clerical, had then become worldly and chivalrous. But +now, when the power of the emperors began to decline, when the clergy was +driven into taking a decidedly anti-national position, when the unity of +the empire was well-nigh destroyed, and princes and prelates were +asserting their independence by plunder and by warfare, a new element of +society rose to the surface,—the middle classes,—the burghers of the free +towns of Germany. They were forced to hold together, in order to protect +themselves against their former protectors. They fortified their cities, +formed corporations, watched over law and morality, and founded those +powerful leagues, the first of which, the Hansa, dates from 1241. Poetry +also took refuge behind the walls of free towns; and at the fireside of +the worthy citizen had to exchange her gay, chivalrous, and romantic +strains, for themes more subdued, practical, and homely. This accounts for +such works as Hugo von Trimberg’s “Renner,” as well as for the general +character of the poetry of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Poetry +became a trade like any other. Guilds were formed, consisting of +master-singers and their apprentices. Heinrich Frauenlob is called the +first Meistersänger; and during the fourteenth, the fifteenth, and even +the sixteenth centuries, new guilds or schools sprang up in all the +principal towns of Germany. After order had been restored by the first +Hapsburg dynasty, the intellectual and literary activity of Germany +retained its centre of gravitation in the middle classes. Rudolf von +Hapsburg was not gifted with a poetical nature, and contemporaneous poets +complain of his want of liberality. Attempts were made to revive the +chivalrous poetry of the Crusades by Hugo von Montfort and Oswald von +Wolkenstein in the beginning of the fifteenth century, and again at the +end of the same century by the “Last of the German Knights,” the Emperor +Maximilian. But these attempts could not but fail. The age of chivalry was +gone, and there was nothing great or inspiring in the wars which the +Emperors had to wage during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries against +their vassals, against the Pope, against the precursors of the +Reformation, the Hussites, and against the Turks. In Fritsche Closener’s +“Chronicle” there is a description of the citizens of Strassburg defending +themselves against their bishop in 1312; in Twinger’s “Chronicle” a +picture of the processions of the Flagellants and the religious enthusiasm +of that time (1349). The poems of Suchenwirt and Halbsuter represent the +wars of Austria against Switzerland (1386), and Niclas von Weyl’s +translation gives us a glimpse into the Council of Constance (1414) and +the Hussite wars, which were soon to follow. The poetry of those two +centuries, which was written by and for the people, is interesting +historically, but, with few exceptions, without any further worth. The +poets wish to amuse or to instruct their humble patrons, and they do this, +either by giving them the dry bones of the romantic poetry of former ages, +or by telling them fables and the quaint stories of the “Seven Wise +Masters.” What beauty there was in a Meistergesang may be fairly seen from +the poem of Michael Beheim; and the Easter play by no means shows the +lowest ebb of good taste in the popular literature of that time. + +It might seem, indeed, as if all the high and noble aspirations of the +twelfth and thirteenth centuries had been lost and forgotten during the +fourteenth and fifteenth. And yet it was not quite so. There was one class +of men on whom the spirit of true nobility had descended, and whose works +form a connecting chain between the great era of the Crusades and the +still greater era of the Reformation. These are the so-called +Mystics,—true Crusaders, true knights of the Spirit, many of whom +sacrificed their lives for the cause of truth, and who at last conquered +from the hands of the infidels that Holy Sepulchre in which the true +Christian faith had been lying buried for centuries. The name of Mystics, +which has been given to these men, is apt to mislead. Their writings are +not dark or unintelligible, and those who call them so must find +Christianity itself unintelligible and dark. There is more broad daylight +in Eckhart and Tauler than in the works of all the Thomists and Scotists. +Eckhart was not a dreamer. He had been a pupil of Thomas Aquinas, and his +own style is sometimes painfully scholastic. But there is a fresh breeze +of thought in his works, and in the works of his disciples. They knew that +whenever the problems of man’s relation to God, the creation of the world, +the origin of evil, and the hope of salvation come to be discussed, the +sharpest edge of logical reasoning will turn, and the best defined terms +of metaphysics die away into mere music. They knew that the hard and +narrow categories of the schoolmen do greater violence to the highest +truths of religion than the soft, and vague, and vanishing tones with +which they tried to shadow forth in the vulgar language of the people the +distant objects which transcend the horizon of human understanding. They +did not handle the truths of Christianity as if they should or could be +proved by the syllogisms of our human reasoning. Nevertheless these +Mystics were hard and honest thinkers, and never played with words and +phrases. Their faith is to them as clear and as real as sunshine; and +instead of throwing scholastic dust into the eyes of the people, they +boldly told them to open their eyes and to look at the mysteries all +around them, and to feel the presence of God within and without, which the +priests had veiled by the very revelation which they had preached. For a +true appreciation of the times in which they lived, the works of these +Reformers of the Faith are invaluable. Without them we should try in vain +to explain how a nation which, to judge from its literature, seemed to +have lost all vigor and virtue, could suddenly rise and dare the work of a +reformation of the Church. With them we learn how that same nation, after +groaning for centuries under the yoke of superstition and hypocrisy, found +in its very prostration the source of an irresistible strength. The higher +clergy contributed hardly anything to the literature of these two +centuries; and what they wrote would better have remained unwritten. At +St. Gall, toward the end of the thirteenth century, the monks, the +successors of Notker, were unable to sign their names. The Abbot was a +nobleman who composed love-songs, a branch of poetry at all events out of +place in the monastery founded by St. Gall. It is only among the lower +clergy that we find the traces of genuine Christian piety and intellectual +activity, though frequently branded by obese prelates and obtuse +magistrates with the names of mysticism and heresy. The orders of the +Franciscans and Dominicans, founded in 1208 and 1215, and intended to act +as clerical spies and confessors, began to fraternize in many parts of +Germany with the people against the higher clergy. The people were hungry +and thirsty after religious teaching. They had been systematically +starved, or fed with stones. Part of the Bible had been translated for the +people, but what Ulfilas was free to do in the fourth century, was +condemned by the prelates assembled at the Synod of Trier in 1231. Nor +were the sermons of the itinerant friars in towns and villages always to +the taste of bishops and abbots. We possess collections of these +discourses, preached by Franciscans and Dominicans under the trees of +cemeteries, and from the church-towers of the villages. Brother Berthold, +who died in 1272, was a Franciscan. He travelled about the country, and +was revered by the poor like a saint and prophet. The doctrine he +preached, though it was the old teaching of the Apostles, was as new to +the peasants who came to hear him, as it had been to the citizens of +Athens who came to hear St. Paul. The saying of St Chrysostom that +Christianity had turned many a peasant into a philosopher, came true again +in the time of Eckhart and Tauler. Men who called themselves Christians +had been taught, and had brought themselves to believe, that to read the +writings of the Apostles was a deadly sin. Yet in secret they were +yearning after that forbidden Bible. They knew that there were +translations, and though these translations had been condemned by popes +and synods, the people could not resist the temptation of reading them. In +1373, we find the first complete version of the Bible into German, by +Matthias of Beheim. Several are mentioned after this. The new religious +fervor that had been kindled among the inferior clergy, and among the +lower and middle classes of the laity, became stronger; and, though it +sometimes degenerated into wild fanaticism, the sacred spark was kept in +safe hands by such men as Eckhart (died 1329), Tauler (died 1361), and the +author of the German Theology. Men like these are sure to conquer; they +are persecuted justly or unjustly; they suffer and die, and all they +thought and said and did seems for a time to have been in vain. But +suddenly their work, long marked as dangerous in the smooth current of +society, rises above the surface like the coral reefs in the Pacific, and +it remains for centuries the firm foundation of a new world of thought and +faith. Without the labors of these Reformers of the Faith, the Reformers +of the Church would never have found a whole nation waiting to receive, +and ready to support them. + +There are two other events which prepared the way of the German Reformers +of the sixteenth century: the foundation of universities, and the +invention of printing. Their importance is the same in the literary and in +the political history of Germany. The intellectual and moral character of +a nation is formed in schools and universities; and those who educate a +people have always been its real masters, though they may go by a more +modest name. Under the Roman Empire public schools had been supported by +the government, both at Rome and in the chief towns of the Provinces. We +know of their existence in Gaul and parts of Germany. With the decline of +the central authority, the salaries of the grammarians and rhetors in the +Provinces ceased to be paid, and the pagan gymnasia were succeeded by +Christian schools, attached to episcopal sees and monasteries. Whilst the +clergy retained their vigor and efficiency, their schools were powerful +engines for spreading a half clerical and half classical culture in +Germany. During the Crusades, when ecclesiastical activity and learning +declined very rapidly, we hear of French tutors at the castles of the +nobility, and classical learning gave way to the superficial polish of a +chivalrous age. And when the nobility likewise relapsed into a state of +savage barbarism, new schools were wanted, and they were founded by the +towns, the only places where, during the fourteenth and fifteenth +centuries, we see any evidence of a healthy political life. The first town +schools are mentioned in the beginning of the fourteenth century, and they +were soon followed by the high schools and universities. The University of +Prague was founded in 1348; Vienna, 1366; Heidelberg, 1386; Erfurt, 1392; +Leipzig, 1408; Basle, 1460; Tübingen, 1477; Mainz, 1482. These +universities are a novel feature in the history of German and of European +civilization. They are not ecclesiastical seminaries, not restricted to +any particular class of society; they are national institutions, open to +the rich and the poor, to the knight, the clerk, the citizen. They are +real universities of learning: they profess to teach all branches of +knowledge,—theology and law, medicine and philosophy. They contain the +first practical acknowledgment of the right of every subject to the +highest education, and through it to the highest offices in Church and +State. Neither Greece nor Rome had known such institutions: neither the +Church nor the nobility, during the days of their political supremacy, +were sufficiently impressed with the duty which they owed to the nation at +large to provide such places of liberal education. It was the nation +itself, when forsaken by its clergy and harassed by its nobility, which +called these schools into life; and it is in these schools and +universities that the great men who inaugurate the next period of +literature—the champions of political liberty and religious freedom—were +fostered and formed. + +The invention of printing was in itself a reformation, and its benefits +were chiefly felt by the great masses of the people. The clergy possessed +their libraries, where they might read and study if they chose; the +castles contained collections of MSS., sacred and profane, illuminated +with the most exquisite taste; while the citizen, the poor layman, though +he might be able to read and to write, was debarred from the use of books, +and had to satisfy his literary tastes with the sermons of travelling +Franciscans, or the songs of blind beggars and peddlers. The art of +printing admitted that large class to the same privileges which had +hitherto been enjoyed almost exclusively by clergy and nobility: it placed +in the hands of the third estate arms more powerful than the swords of the +knights, and the thunderbolts of the priests: it was a revolution in the +history of literature more eventful than any in the history of mankind. +Poets and philosophers addressed themselves no longer to emperors and +noblemen, to knights and ladies, but to the people at large, and +especially to the middle classes, in which henceforth the chief strength +of the nation resides. + +The years from 1450 to 1500 form a period of preparation for the great +struggle that was to inaugurate the beginning of the sixteenth century. It +was an age “rich in scholars, copious in pedants, but poor in genius, and +barren of strong thinkers.” One of the few interesting men in whose life +and writings the history of that preliminary age may be studied, is +Sebastian Brant, the famous author of the famous “Ship of Fools.” + +With the sixteenth century, we enter upon the modern history and the +modern literature of Germany. We shall here pass on more rapidly, dwelling +only on the men in whose writings the political and social changes of +Germany can best be studied. + +With Luther, the literary language of Germany became New High-German. A +change of language invariably betokens a change in the social constitution +of a country. In Germany, at the time of the Reformation, the change of +language marks the rise of a new aristocracy, which is henceforth to +reside in the universities. Literature leaves its former homes. It speaks +no longer the language of the towns. It addresses itself no longer to a +few citizens, nor to imperial patrons, such as Maximilian I. It indulges +no longer in moral saws, didactic verses, and prose novels, nor is it +content with mystic philosophy and the secret outpourings of religious +fervor. For a time, though but for a short time, German literature becomes +national. Poets and writers wish to be heard beyond the walls of their +monasteries and cities. They speak to the whole nation; nay, they desire +to be heard beyond the frontiers of their country. Luther and the +Reformers belonged to no class,—they belonged to the people. The voice of +the people, which during the preceding periods of literature could only be +heard like the rolling of distant thunder, had now become articulate and +distinct, and for a time one thought seemed to unite all +classes,—emperors, kings, nobles, and citizens, clergy and laity, high and +low, old and young. This is a novel sight in the history of Germany. We +have seen in the first period the gradual growth of the clergy, from the +time when the first missionaries were massacred in the marshes of +Friesland to the time when the Emperor stood penitent before the gates of +Canossa. We have seen the rise of the nobility, from the time when the +barbarian chiefs preferred living outside the walls of cities to the time +when they rivaled the French cavaliers in courtly bearing and chivalrous +bravery. Nor were the representatives of these two orders, the Pope and +the Emperor, less powerful at the beginning of the sixteenth century than +they had been before. Charles V. was the most powerful sovereign whom +Europe had seen since the days of Charlemagne, and the papal see had +recovered by diplomatic intrigue much of the influence which it had lost +by moral depravity. Let us think, then, of these two ancient powers: the +Emperor with his armies, recruited in Austria, Spain, Naples, Sicily, and +Burgundy, and with his treasures brought from Mexico and Peru; and the +Pope with his armies of priests and monks, recruited from all parts of the +Christian world, and armed with the weapons of the Inquisition and the +thunderbolts of excommunication: let us think of their former victories, +their confidence in their own strength, their belief in their divine +right: and let us then turn our eyes to the small University of +Wittenberg, and into the bleak study of a poor Augustine monk, and see +that monk step out of his study with no weapon in his hand but the +Bible,—with no armies and no treasures,—and yet defying with his clear and +manly voice both Pope and Emperor, both clergy and nobility: there is no +grander sight in history; and the longer we allow our eyes to dwell on it, +the more we feel that history is not without God, and that at every +decisive battle the divine right of truth asserts its supremacy over the +divine right of Popes and Emperors, and overthrows with one breath both +empires and hierarchies. We call the Reformation the work of Luther; but +Luther stood not alone, and no really great man ever stood alone. The +secret of their greatness lies in their understanding the spirit of the +age in which they live, and in giving expression with the full power of +faith and conviction to the secret thoughts of millions. Luther was but +lending words to the silent soul of suffering Germany, and no one should +call himself a Protestant who is not a Lutheran with Luther at the Diet of +Worms, and able to say with him in the face of princes and prelates, “Here +I stand; I can not do otherwise; God help me: Amen.” + +As the Emperor was the representative of the nobility, as the Pope was the +representative of the clergy, Luther was the head and leader of the +people, which through him and through his fellow-workers claimed now, for +the first time, an equality with the two old estates of the realm. If this +national struggle took at first an aspect chiefly religious, it was +because the German nation had freedom of thought and of belief more at +heart than political freedom. But political rights also were soon +demanded, and demanded with such violence, that during his own life-time +Luther had to repress the excesses of enthusiastic theorists and of a +violent peasantry. Luther’s great influence on the literature of Germany, +and the gradual adoption of his dialect as the literary language, were +owing in a great measure to this, that whatever there was of literature +during the sixteenth century, was chiefly in the hands of one class of +men. After the Reformation, nearly all eminent men in Germany—poets, +philosophers, and historians—belonged to the Protestant party, and resided +chiefly in the universities. + +The universities were what the monasteries had been under Charlemagne, the +castles under Frederick Barbarossa,—the centres of gravitation for the +intellectual and political life of the country. The true nobility of +Germany was no longer to be found among the priests,—Alcuin, Hrabanus +Maurus, Notker Teutonicus; nor among the knights,—Walther von der +Vogelweide, Wolfram von Eschenbach, and their patrons, Frederick II., +Hermann von Thüringen, and Leopold of Austria. The intellectual sceptre of +Germany was wielded by a new nobility,—a nobility that had risen from the +ranks, like the priests and the knights, but which, for a time at least, +kept itself from becoming a caste, and from cutting away those roots +through which it imbibed its vigor and sustained its strength. It had its +castles in the universities, its tournaments in the diets of Worms and +Augsburg, and it counted among its members, dukes and peasants, divines +and soldiers, lawyers and artists. This was not, indeed, an hereditary +nobility, but on that very ground it is a nobility which can never become +extinct. The danger, however, which threatens all aristocracies, whether +martial, clerical, or municipal, was not averted from the intellectual +aristocracy of Germany. The rising spirit of caste deprived the second +generation of that power which men like Luther had gained at the beginning +of the Reformation. The moral influence of the universities in Germany was +great, and it is great at the present day. But it would have been greater +and more beneficial if the conceit of caste had not separated the leaders +of the nation from the ranks whence they themselves had arisen, and to +which alone they owed their position and their influence. It was the same +with the priests, who would rather form a hierarchy than be merged in the +laity. It was the same with the knights, who would rather form a select +society than live among the gentry. Both cut away the ground under their +feet; and the Reformers of the sixteenth century fell into the same snare +before they were aware of it. We wonder at the eccentricities of the +priesthood, at the conceit of the hereditary nobility, at the affectation +of majestic stateliness inherent in royalty. But the pedantic display of +learning, the disregard of the real wants of the people, the contempt of +all knowledge which does not wear the academic garb, show the same foible, +the same conceit, the same spirit of caste among those who, from the +sixteenth century to the present day, have occupied the most prominent +rank in the society of Germany. Professorial knight-errantry still waits +for its Cervantes. Nowhere have the objects of learning been so completely +sacrificed to the means of learning, nowhere has that Dulcinea,—knowledge +for its own sake,—with her dark veil and her barren heart, numbered so +many admirers; nowhere have so many windmills been fought, and so many +real enemies been left unhurt, as in Germany, particularly during the last +two centuries. New universities have been founded: Marburg, in 1527; +Königsberg, in 1547; Jena, in 1558; Helmstädt, in 1575; Giessen, in 1607. +And the more the number and the power of the professors increased, the +more they forgot that they and their learning, their universities and +their libraries, were for the benefit of the people; that a professor +might be very learned, and very accurate, and very laborious, yet worse +than useless as a member of our toiling society. It was considered more +learned and respectable to teach in Latin, and all lectures at the +universities were given in that language. Luther was sneered at because of +his little German tracts which “any village clerk might have written.” +Some of the best poets in the sixteenth century were men such as Eoban +Hessius (1540), who composed their poetry in Latin. National poems, for +instance, Brant’s “Ship of Fools,” were translated into Latin in order to +induce the German professors to read them. The learned doctors were +ashamed of their honest native names. Schwarzerd must needs call himself +Melancthon; Meissel Celtes, Schnitter Agricola; Hausschein, Œcolampadius! +All this might look very learned, and professorial, and imposing; but it +separated the professors from the people at large; it retarded the +progress of national education, and blighted the prospects of a national +policy in Germany. Everything promised well at the time of the +Reformation; and a new Germany might have risen before a new France, if, +like Luther, the leaders of the nation had remained true to their calling. +But when to speak Latin was considered more learned than to speak German, +when to amass vast information was considered more creditable than to +digest and to use it, when popularity became the same bugbear to the +professors which profanity had been to the clergy, and vulgarity to the +knights, Luther’s work was undone; and two more centuries had to be spent +in pedantic controversies, theological disputes, sectarian squabbles, and +political prostration, before a new national spirit could rise again in +men like Lessing, and Schiller, and Fichte, and Stein. Ambitious princes +and quarrelsome divines continued the rulers of Germany, and, towards the +end of the sixteenth century, everything seemed drifting back into the +Middle Ages. Then came the Thirty Years’ War, a most disastrous war for +Germany, which is felt in its results to the present day. If, as a civil +and religious contest, it had been fought out between the two parties,—the +Protestants and Roman Catholics of Germany,—it would have left, as in +England, one side victorious; it would have been brought to an end before +both were utterly exhausted. But the Protestants, weakened by their own +dissensions, had to call in foreign aid. First Denmark, then Sweden, +poured their armies into Germany, and even France—Roman Catholic +France—gave her support to Gustavus Adolphus and the Protestant cause. +England, the true ally of Germany, was too weak at home to make her +influence felt abroad. At the close of the war, the Protestants received +indeed the same rights as the Roman Catholics; but the nation was so +completely demoralized that it hardly cared for the liberties guaranteed +by the treaty of Westphalia. The physical and moral vigor of the nation +was broken. The population of Germany is said to have been reduced by one +half. Thousands of villages and towns had been burnt to the ground. The +schools, the churches, the universities, were deserted. A whole generation +had grown up during the war, particularly among the lower classes, with no +education at all. The merchants of Germany, who formerly, as Æneas Sylvius +said, lived more handsomely than the Kings of Scotland, were reduced to +small traders. The Hansa was broken up. Holland, England, and Sweden had +taken the wind out of her sails. In the Eastern provinces, commerce was +suspended by the inroads of the Turks; whilst the discovery of America, +and of the new passage to the East Indies, had reduced the importance of +the mercantile navy of Germany and Italy in the Mediterranean. Where there +was any national feeling left, it was a feeling of shame and despair, and +the Emperor and the small princes of Germany might have governed even more +selfishly than they did, without rousing opposition among the people. + +What can we expect of the literature of such times? Popular poetry +preserved some of its indestructible charms. The Meistersänger went on +composing according to the rules of their guilds, but we look in vain for +the raciness and honest simplicity of Hans Sachs. Some of the professors +wrote plays in the style of Terence, or after English models, and fables +became fashionable in the style of Phædrus. But there was no trace +anywhere of originality, truth, taste, or feeling, except in that branch +which, like the palm-tree, thrives best in the desert,—sacred poetry. Paul +Gerhard is still without an equal as a poet of sacred songs; and many of +the best hymns which are heard in the Protestant churches of Germany date +from the seventeenth century. Soon, however, this class of poetry also +degenerated on one side into dry theological phraseology, on the other +into sentimental and almost erotic affectation. + +There was no hope of a regeneration in German literature, unless either +great political and social events should rouse the national mind from its +languor, or the classical models of pure taste and true art should be +studied again in a different spirit from that of professorial pedantry. +Now, after the Thirty Years’ War, there was no war in Germany in which the +nation took any warm interest. The policy pursued in France during the +long reign of Louis XIV. (1643-1708) had its chief aim in weakening the +house of Hapsburg. When the Protestants would no longer fight his battles, +Louis roused the Turks. Vienna was nearly taken, and Austria owed its +delivery to Johann Sobiesky. By the treaty of Ryswick (1697), all the +country on the left side of the Rhine was ceded to France, and German +soldiers fought under the banners of the Great Monarch. The only German +prince who dared to uphold the honor of the empire, and to withstand the +encroachments of Louis, was Frederick William, the great Elector of +Prussia (1670-88). He checked the arrogance of the Swedish court, opened +his towns to French Protestant refugees, and raised the house of +Brandenburg to a European importance. In the same year in which his +successor, Frederick III., assumed the royal title as Frederick I., the +King of Spain, Charles I., died; and Louis XIV., whilst trying to add the +Spanish crown to his monarchy, was at last checked in his grasping policy +by an alliance between England and Germany. Prince Eugene and Marlborough +restored the peace and the political equilibrium of Europe. In England, +the different parties in Parliament, the frequenters of the clubs and +coffee-houses, were then watching every move on the political chess-board +of Europe, and criticising the victories of their generals and the +treaties of their ambassadors. In Germany, the nation took but a passive +part. It was excluded from all real share in the great questions of the +day; and, if it showed any sympathies, they were confined to the simple +admiration of a great general, such as Prince Eugene. + +While the policy of Louis XIV. was undermining the political independence +of Germany, the literature of his court exercised an influence hardly less +detrimental on the literature of Germany. No doubt, the literature of +France stood far higher at that time than that of Germany. “Poet” was +amongst us a term of abuse, while in France the Great Monarch himself did +homage to his great poets. But the professorial poets who had failed to +learn the lessons of good taste from the Greek and Roman classics, were +not likely to profit by an imitation of the spurious classicality of +French literature. They heard the great stars of the court of Louis XIV. +praised by their royal and princely patrons, as they returned from their +travels in France and Italy, full of admiration for everything that was +not German. They were delighted to hear that in France, in Holland, and in +Italy, it was respectable to write poetry in the modern vernacular, and +set to work in good earnest. After the model of the literary academies in +Italy, academies were founded at the small courts of Germany. Men like +Opitz would hardly have thought it dignified to write verses in their +native tongue had it not been for the moral support which they received +from these academies and their princely patrons. His first poems were +written in Latin, but he afterwards devoted himself completely to German +poetry. He became a member of the “Order of the Palm-tree,” and the +founder of what is called the _First Silesian School_. Opitz is the true +representative of the classical poetry of the seventeenth century. He was +a scholar and a gentleman; most correct in his language and versification; +never venturing on ground that had not been trodden before by some +classical poet, whether of Greece, Rome, France, Holland, or Italy. In him +we also see the first traces of that baneful alliance between princes and +poets which has deprived the German nation of so many of her best sons. +But the charge of mean motives has been unjustly brought against Opitz by +many historians. Poets require an audience, and at his time there was no +class of people willing to listen to poetry, except the inmates of the +small German courts. After the Thirty Years’ War the power of these +princes was greater than ever. They divided the spoil, and there was +neither a nobility, nor a clergy, nor a national party to control or +resist them. In England, the royal power had, at that time, been brought +back to its proper limits, and it has thus been able to hold ever since, +with but short interruptions, its dignified position, supported by the +self-respect of a free and powerful nation. In France it assumed the most +enormous proportions during the long reign of Louis XIV., but its +appalling rise was followed, after a century, by a fall equally appalling, +and it has not yet regained its proper position in the political system of +that country. In Germany the royal power was less imposing, its +prerogatives being divided between the Emperor and a number of small but +almost independent vassals, remnants of that feudal system of the Middle +Ages which in France and England had been absorbed by the rise of national +monarchies. These small principalities explain the weakness of Germany in +her relation with foreign powers, and the instability of her political +constitution. Continental wars gave an excuse for keeping up large +standing armies, and these standing armies stood between the nation and +her sovereigns, and made any moral pressure of the one upon the other +impossible. The third estate could never gain that share in the government +which it had obtained, by its united action, in other countries; and no +form of government can be stable which is deprived of the support and the +active coöperation of the middle classes. Constitutions have been granted +by enlightened sovereigns, such as Joseph II. and Frederick William IV., +and barricades have been raised by the people at Vienna and at Berlin; but +both have failed to restore the political health of the country. There is +no longer a German nobility in the usual sense of the word. Its vigor was +exhausted when the powerful vassals of the empire became powerless +sovereigns with the titles of king or duke, while what remained of the +landed nobility became more reduced with every generation, owing to the +absence of the system of primogeniture. There is no longer a clergy as a +powerful body in the state. This was broken up at the time of the +Reformation; and it hardly had time to recover and to constitute itself on +a new basis, when the Thirty Years’ War deprived it of all social +influence, and left it no alternative but to become a salaried class of +servants of the crown. No third estate exists powerful enough to defend +the interests of the commonwealth against the encroachments of the +sovereign; and public opinion, though it may pronounce itself within +certain limits, has no means of legal opposition, and must choose, at +every critical moment, between submission to the royal will and rebellion. + +Thus, during the whole modern history of Germany, the political and +intellectual supremacy is divided. The former is monopolized by the +sovereigns, the latter belongs to a small class of learned men. These two +soon begin to attract each other. The kings seek the society, the advice, +and support of literary men; whilst literary men court the patronage of +kings, and acquire powerful influence by governing those who govern the +people. From the time of Opitz there have been few men of eminence in +literature or science who have not been drawn toward one of the larger or +smaller courts of Germany; and the whole of our modern literature bears +the marks of this union between princes and poets. It has been said that +the existence of these numerous centres of civilization has proved +beneficial to the growth of literature; and it has been pointed out that +some of the smallest courts, such as Weimar, have raised the greatest men +in poetry and science. Goethe himself gives expression to this opinion. +“What has made Germany great,” he says, “but the culture which is spread +through the whole country in such a marvelous manner, and pervades equally +all parts of the realm? And this culture, does it not emanate from the +numerous courts which grant it support and patronage? Suppose we had had +in Germany for centuries but two capitals, Vienna and Berlin, or but one; +I should like to know how it would have fared with German civilization, or +even with that general well-being which goes hand in hand with true +civilization.” In these words we hear Goethe, the minister of the petty +court of Weimar, not the great poet of a great nation. Has France had more +than one capital? Has England had more than one court? Great men have +risen to eminence in great monarchies like France, and they have risen to +eminence in a great commonwealth such as England, without the patronage of +courts, by the support, the sympathy, the love of a great nation. Truly +national poetry exists only where there is a truly national life; and the +poet who, in creating his works, thinks of a whole nation which will +listen to him and be proud of him, is inspired by a nobler passion than he +who looks to his royal master, or the applause even of the most refined +audience of the _dames de la cour_. In a free country, the sovereign is +the highest and most honored representative of the national will, and he +honors himself by honoring those who have well deserved of his country. +There a poet laureate may hold an independent and dignified position, +conscious of his own worth, and of the support of the nation. But in +despotic countries, the favor even of the most enlightened sovereign is +dangerous. Germany never had a more enlightened king than Frederick the +Great; and yet, when he speaks of the Queen receiving Leibnitz at court, +he says, “She believed that it was not unworthy of a queen to show honor +to a philosopher; and as those who have received from heaven a privileged +soul rise to the level of sovereigns, she admitted Leibnitz into her +familiar society.” + +The seventeenth century saw the rise and fall of the first and the second +Silesian schools. The first is represented by men like Opitz and +Weckherlin, and it exercised an influence in the North of Germany on Simon +Dach, Paul Flemming, and a number of less gifted poets, who are generally +known by the name of the _Königsberg School_. Its character is +pseudo-classical. All these poets endeavored to write correctly, sedately, +and eloquently. Some of them aimed at a certain simplicity and sincerity, +which we admire particularly in Flemming. But it would be difficult to +find in all their writings one single thought, one single expression, that +had not been used before. The second Silesian school is more ambitious; +but its poetic flights are more disappointing even than the honest prose +of Opitz. The “Shepherds of the Pegnitz” had tried to imitate the +brilliant diction of the Italian poets; but the modern Meistersänger of +the old town of Nürnberg had produced nothing but wordy jingle. +Hoffmannswaldau and Lohenstein, the chief heroes of the second Silesian +school, followed in their track, and did not succeed better. Their +compositions are bombastic and full of metaphors. It is a poetry of +adjectives, without substance, truth, or taste. Yet their poetry was +admired, praised not less than Goethe and Schiller were praised by their +contemporaries, and it lived beyond the seventeenth century. There were +but few men during that time who kept aloof from the spirit of these two +Silesian schools, and were not influenced by either Opitz or +Hoffmannswaldau. Among these independent poets we have to mention +Friedrich von Logau, Andreas Gryphius, and Moscherosch. Beside these, +there were some prose writers whose works are not exactly works of art, +but works of original thought, and of great importance to us in tracing +the progress of science and literature during the dreariest period of +German history. We can only mention the “Simplicissimus,” a novel full of +clever miniature drawing, and giving a truthful picture of German life +during the Thirty Years’ War; the patriotic writings of Professor Schupp; +the historical works of Professor Pufendorf (1631-94); the pietistic +sermons of Spener, and of Professor Franke (1663-1727), the founder of the +Orphan School at Halle; Professor Arnold’s (1666-1714) Ecclesiastical +History; the first political pamphlets by Professor Thomasius (1655-1728); +and among philosophers, Jacob Böhme at the beginning, and Leibnitz at the +end of the seventeenth century. + +The second Silesian school was defeated by Gottsched, professor at +Leipzig. He exercised, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, the +same dictatorship as a poet and a critic which Opitz had exercised at the +beginning of the seventeenth. Gottsched was the advocate of French models +in art and poetry, and he used his wide-spread influence in recommending +the correct and so-called classical style of the poets of the time. After +having rendered good service in putting down the senseless extravagance of +the school of Lohenstein, he became himself a pedantic and arrogant +critic; and it was through the opposition which he roused by his +“Gallomania” that German poetry was delivered at last from the trammels of +that foreign school. Then followed a long literary warfare; Gottsched and +his followers at Leipzig defended the French, Bodmer and his friends in +Switzerland the English style of literature. The former insisted on +classical form and traditional rules; the latter on natural sentiment and +spontaneous expression. The question was, whether poets should imitate the +works of the classics, or imitate the classics who had become classics by +imitating nobody. A German professor wields an immense power by means of +his journals. He is the editor; he writes in them himself, and allows +others to write; he praises his friends, who are to laud him in turn; he +patronizes his pupils, who are to call him master; he abuses his +adversaries, and asks his allies to do the same. It was in this that +Professor Gottsched triumphed for a long time over Bodmer and his party, +till at last public opinion became too strong, and the dictator died the +laughing-stock of Germany. It was in the very thick of this literary +struggle that the great heroes of German poetry grew up,—Klopstock, +Lessing, Wieland, Herder, Goethe, and Schiller. Goethe, who knew both +Gottsched and Bodmer, has described that period of fermentation and +transition in which his own mind was formed, and his extracts may be read +as a commentary on the poetical productions of the first half of the +eighteenth century. He does justice to Günther, and more than justice to +Liscow. He shows the influence which men like Brockes, Hagedorn, and +Haller exercised in making poetry respectable. He points out the new +national life which, like an electric spark, flew through the whole +country when Frederick the Great said, “_J’ai jeté le bonnet pardessus les +moulins_;” and defied, like a man, the political popery of Austria. The +estimate which Goethe forms of the poets of the time, of Gleim and Uz, of +Gessner and Rabener, and more especially of Klopstock, Lessing, and +Wieland, should be read in the original, as likewise Herder’s “Rhapsody on +Shakspeare.” The latter contains the key to many of the secrets of that +new period of literature, which was inaugurated by Goethe himself and by +those who like him could dare to be classical by being true to nature and +to themselves. + +My object in taking this rapid survey of German literature has been to +show that the extracts which I have collected in my “German Classics” have +not been chosen at random, and that, if properly used, they can be read as +a running commentary on the political and social history of Germany. The +history of literature is but an applied history of civilization. As in the +history of civilization we watch the play of the three constituent classes +of society,—clergy, nobility, and commoners,—we can see, in the history of +literature, how that class which is supreme politically shows for the time +being its supremacy in the literary productions of the age, and impresses +its mark on the works of poets and philosophers. + +Speaking very generally, we might say that, during the first period of +German history, the really moving, civilizing, and ruling class was the +clergy; and in the whole of German literature, nearly to the time of the +Crusades, the clerical element predominates. The second period is marked +by the Crusades, and the triumph of Teutonic and Romantic chivalry, and +the literature of that period is of a strictly correspondent tone. After +the Crusades, and during the political anarchy that followed, the sole +principle of order and progress is found in the towns, and in the towns +the poetry of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries finds its new home. +At last, at the time of the Reformation, when the political life of the +country assumed for a time a national character, German literature also is +for a short time national. The hopes, however, which had been raised of a +national policy and of a national literature were soon blighted, and, from +the Thirty Years’ War to the present day, the inheritance of the nation +has been divided between princes and professors. There have been moments +when the princes had to appeal to the nation at large, and to forget for a +while their royal pretensions; and these times of national enthusiasm, as +during the wars of Frederick the Great, and during the wars against +Napoleon, have not failed to tell on the literature of Germany. They +produced a national spirit, free from professorial narrowness, such as we +find in the writings of Lessing and Fichte. But with the exception of +these short lucid intervals, Germany has always been under the absolute +despotism of a number of small sovereigns and great professors, and her +literature has been throughout in the hands of court poets and academic +critics. Klopstock, Lessing, and Schiller are most free from either +influence, and most impressed with the duties which a poet owes, before +all, to the nation to which he belongs. Klopstock’s national enthusiasm +borders sometimes on the fantastic; for, as his own times could not +inspire him, he borrowed the themes of his national panegyrics from the +distant past of Arminius and the German bards. Lessing looked more to his +own age, but he looked in vain for national heroes. “Pity the +extraordinary man,” says Goethe, “who had to live in such miserable times, +which offered him no better subjects than those which he takes for his +works. Pity him, that in his ‘Minna von Barnhelm,’ he had to take part in +the quarrel between the Saxons and the Prussians, because he found nothing +better. It was owing to the rottenness of his time that he always took, +and was forced to take, a polemical position. In his ‘Emilia Galotti,’ he +shows his _pique_ against the princes; in ‘Nathan,’ against the priests.” +But, although the subjects of these works of Lessing were small, his +object in writing was always great and national. He never condescended to +amuse a provincial court by masquerades and comedies, nor did he degrade +his genius by pandering, like Wieland, to the taste of a profligate +nobility. Schiller, again, was a poet truly national and truly liberal; +and although a man of aspirations rather than of actions, he has left a +deeper impress on the kernel of the nation than either Wieland or Goethe. +These considerations, however, must not interfere with our appreciation of +the greatness of Goethe. On the contrary, when we see the small sphere in +which he moved at Weimar, we admire the more the height to which he grew, +and the freedom of his genius. And it is, perhaps, owing to this very +absence of a strongly marked national feeling, that in Germany the first +idea of a world-literature was conceived. “National literature,” Goethe +says, “is of little importance: the age of a world-literature is at hand, +and every one ought to work in order to accelerate this new era.” Perhaps +Goethe felt that the true poet belonged to the whole of mankind, and that +he must be intelligible beyond the frontiers of his own country. And, from +this point of view, his idea of a world-literature has been realized, and +his own works have gained their place side by side with the works of +Homer, Virgil, Dante, and Shakespeare. But, so long as there are different +languages and different nations, let each poet think and work and write +for his own people, without caring for the applause of other countries. +Science and philosophy are cosmopolitan; poetry and art are national: and +those who would deprive the Muses of their home-sprung character, would +deprive them of much of their native charms. + + + + +LIST OF EXTRACTS FOR ILLUSTRATING THE HISTORY OF GERMAN LITERATURE. + + + FOURTH CENTURY AFTER CHRIST. + +_Gothic:_— + +Ulfilas, Translation of the Bible; the Lord’s Prayer. + + SEVENTH CENTURY. + +_Old High-German:_— + +Vocabulary of St. Gall. + + EIGHTH CENTURY. + +_Old High-German:_— + +Interlinear Translation of the Benedictine Rules. +Translation of the Gospel of St. Matthew. +Exhortation addressed to the Christian Laity. +Literal Translations of the Hymns of the Old Church:— +1. Deus qui cordi lumen es. +2. Aurora lucis rutilat. +3. Te Deum laudamus. +The Song of Hildebrand and his son Hadubrand,—in alliterative metre. +The Prayer from the Monastery of Wessobrun,—in alliterative metre. +The Apostolic Creed. + + NINTH CENTURY. + +_Old High-German:_— + +From Einhard’s Life of Charlemagne,—the German names of the Months and the + Winds fixed by the Emperor. +Muspilli, or on the Last Judgment,—alliterative poem. +The Oaths of Lewis the German and Charles the Bald, +and their armies at Strassburg, 842, in Old +Frankish and Old French; from the History of +Nithard, the grandson of Charlemagne. +The Heliand, or the Saviour,—old Saxon poem, in alliterative metre. +The Krist, or the Gospel-book,—poem in rhyme by Otfried, the pupil of + Hrabanus Maurus, dedicated to Lewis the German. +Translation of a Harmony of the Gospels. +Lay on St. Peter. +Song on the Victory gained by King Lewis III. at Saucourt, in 881, over + the Normans. + + TENTH CENTURY. + +_Old High-German:_— + +Notker Teutonicus of St. Gall,— +1. Translation of the Psalms. +2. Treatise on Syllogisms. +3. Translation of Aristotle. +4. Translation of Boëthius de Consolatione. + + ELEVENTH CENTURY. + +_Old High-German:_— + +Williram’s Explanation of the Song of Solomon. +Merigarto, or the Earth,—fragment of a geographical poem. + + TWELFTH CENTURY. + +_Middle High-German:_— + +The Life of Jesus,—poem by the Nun Ava. +Poetical Translation of the Books of Moses. +Historical Poem on Anno, Bishop of Cologne. +Poetical Chronicle of the Roman Emperors. +Nortperti Tractatus de Virtutibus, translated. +The poem of Roland, by Konrad the Priest. +The poem of Alexander, by Lamprecht the Priest. +Poem of Reinhart the Fox. +Dietmar von Aist,—lyrics. +The Spervogel,—lyrics. +The Kürenberger,—lyrics. +The Eneid, by Heinrich von Veldecke. + + THIRTEENTH CENTURY. + +_Middle High-German:_— + +Hartmann von Aue; extracts from his “Iwein,”—a heroic poem. +The Old Reinmar,—lyrics. +Walther von der Vogelweide,—lyrics. +Freidank’s Bescheidenheit,—didactic poem. +Wolfram von Eschenbach,— +1. Extracts from his “Parcival,”—a heroic poem. +2. Extracts from his “Titurel,”—a heroic poem. +Gottfried von Strassburg; extracts from his “Tristan,”—a heroic poem. +The poem of the “Nibelunge,”—epic poem. +Thomasin von Zerclar; extracts from his poem on manners, called “The + Italian Guest.” +Neidhart von Reuenthal,—lyrics. +Otto von Botenlaube,—lyrics. +Gudrun,—epic poem. +The Stricker,—extract from his satirical poem, “Amis the Priest.” +Rudolf von Ems,—extract from his “Wilhelm von Orleans.” +Christian von Hamle,—lyrics. +Gottfried von Neifen,—lyrics. +Ulrich von Lichtenstein,—lyrics. +Sermon of Friar Berthold of Regensburg. +Reinmar von Zweter,—lyrics. +Master Stolle,—satire. +The Marner,—lyrics. +Master Konrad of Würzburg,— +1. Poem. +2. Extract from the Trojan War. +Anonymous poet,—extract from the life of St. Elizabeth. +Herman der Damen. +Anonymous poet,—extract from the “Wartburg Krieg.” +Marcgrave Otto von Brandenburg,—lyrics. +Heinrich, Duke of Breslau,—lyrics. +Hugo von Trimberg,—extract from the “Renner.” + + FOURTEENTH CENTURY. + +_Middle High-German:_— + +Heinrich Frauenlob,—lyrics. +Master Johann Hadlaub,—lyrics. +The Great Rosegarden,—popular epic poem. +Master Eckhart,—homily. +Hermann von Fritzlar,—life of St. Elizabeth. +Dr. Johann Tauler,—sermon. +Heinrich Suso. +Heinrich der Teichner,—fable. +Peter Suchenwirt,—on the death of Leopold, Duke of Austria, 1386. +Halbsuter’s poem on the Battle of Sempach, 1386. +Fritsche Closener’s Strassburg Chronicle. +Jacob Twinger’s Chronicle,—on the Flagellants. + + FIFTEENTH CENTURY. + +_Middle High-German:_— + +Hugo von Montfort,—lyrics. +Oswald von Wolkenstein,—lyrics. +Muscatblüt,—lyrics. +Hans von Bühel’s Life of Diocletian, or The Seven Wise Masters. +Popular Songs. +Sacred Songs. +The Soul’s Comfort,—didactic prose. +Michael Beheim,—Meistergesang. +An Easter Mystery. +Popular Rhymes. +Caspar von der Roen’s Heldenbuch,—Hildebrand and his Son. +Niclas von Weyl’s Translations,—Hieronymus at the Council of Constance. +Veit Weber’s poem on the Victory of Murten, 1476. +Heinrich Steinhöwel’s Fables. +Sebastian Brant’s “Ship of Fools.” +Johann Geiler von Kaisersberg,—sermon. +Emperor Maximilian,—extract from the “Theuerdank.” + + SIXTEENTH CENTURY. + +_Modern High-German:_— + +Martin Luther,— +1. Sacred Song. +2. Letter on the Diet of the Jackdaws and Crows. +3. His Last Sermon. +Ulrich Zwingle:— +1. A Poem on his Illness. +2. Criticism on Luther. +Philipp Nicolai,—sacred songs. +Justus Jonas,—sacred songs. +Ulrich von Hutten,— +1. Letter to Franz von Sickingen. +2. Political poem. +Sebastian Frank,— +1. Preface to his Germania. +2. Rudolf von Hapsburg. +3. Maximilian der Erste. +4. Fables. +Burkard Waldis,—fables. +Hans Sachs,— +1. Sacred Song. +2. Poem on the Death of Martin Luther. +3. Poem on the War. +Petermann Etterlin’s Chronicle,—William Tell and Rudolf von Hapsburg. +Ægidius Tschudi’s Chronicle,—William Tell. +Paulus Melissus Schede. +Johann Fischart,— +1. Exhortation addressed to the German people. +2. Das glückhafte Schiff. +Georg Rollenhagen,—fable. +Popular Books,— +1. Tyll Eulenspiegel. +2. Dr. Faust. +Popular Songs. + + SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. + +_Modern High-German:_— + +Martin Opitz, and the First Silesian School. +Georg Rudolf Weckherlin. +Anonymous Poem,—“O Ewigkeit.” +Michael Altenburg’s Camp-song (Gustavus Adolphus). +Johannes Heermann,—sacred song. +Popular Songs. +Johann Arndt,— +1. Sacred Song. +2. On the Power and Necessity of Prayer. +Jacob Böhme, Mysterium Magnum. +Johann Valentin Andreæ. +Friedrich Spee. +Julius Wilhelm Zinegreff. +Friedrich von Logau. +Simon Dach and the Königsberg School. +Paul Flemming. +Paul Gerhard. +Georg Philipp Harsdörffer and the Nürnberg School. +Johannes Rist. +Andreas Gryphius,— +1. Sonnets. +2. From the Tragedy “Cardenio and Celinde.” +Joachim Rachel,—satire. +Johann Michael Moscherosch,—satires. +Christoph von Grimmelshausen, Simplicissimus,—novel. +Johann Balthasar Schupp,—on the German Language. +Angelus Silesius. +Hoffmannswaldau and Lohenstein,—Second Silesian School. +Abraham a Santa Clara,—sermon. +Philipp Jacob Spener,—on Luther. +Gottfried Arnold,—sacred poem. +Christian Weise. +Hans Assmann von Abschatz. +Friedrich R. L. von Canitz. +Christian Wernicke. +Gottfried Wilhelm von Leibnitz,—on the German Language. + + EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. + +_Modern High-German:_— + +Johann Christoph Gottsched,—Cato. +Johann Jacob Bodmer,—Character of German Poetry. +Barthold Heinrich Brockes. +Johann Christian Günther. +Nicolaus Ludwig Graf von Zinzendorf. +Christian Ludwig Liscow. +Friedrich von Hagedorn. +Albrecht von Haller. +Gottlieb Wilhelm Rabener. +Ewald Christian von Kleist. +Christian Fürchtegott Gellert. +Johann Ludwig Gleim. +Johann Peter Uz. +Justus Möser. +Klopstock. See below. +Salomon Gessner. +Johann Winckelmann. +Lessing. See below. +Johann Georg Hamann. +Immanuel Kant. +Johann August Musæus. +Wieland. See below. +Gottlieb Konrad Pfeffel. +Christian Friedrich Daniel Schubart. +Matthias Claudius. +Johann Caspar Lavater. +Herder. See below. +Heinrich Jung, Stilling. +Georg Christoph Lichtenberg. +Gottfried August Bürger. +Johann Heinrich Voss. +Friedrich Leopold und Christian Grafen zu Stollberg. +Das Siebengestirn der Dichter des achtzehnten Jahrhunderts,— +1. Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock. +2. Gotthold Ephraim Lessing. +3. Christoph Martin Wieland. +4. Johann Gottfried von Herder. +5. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. +6. Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller. +7. Jean Paul Friedrich Richter. + + + + + +II. OLD GERMAN LOVE-SONGS.(8) + + +Seven hundred years ago! What a long time it seems! Philip Augustus, King +of France; Henry II., King of England; Frederic I., the famous Barbarossa, +Emperor of Germany! When we read of their times, the times of the +Crusades, we feel as the Greeks felt when reading of the War of Troy. We +listen, we admire, but we do not compare the heroes of St. Jean d’Acre +with the great generals of the nineteenth century. They seem a different +race of men from those who are now living, and poetry and tradition have +lent to their royal frames such colossal proportions that we hardly dare +to criticise the legendary history of their chivalrous achievements. It +was a time of heroes, of saints, of martyrs, of miracles! Thomas à Becket +was murdered at Canterbury, but for more than three hundred years his name +lived on, and his bones were working miracles, and his soul seemed as it +were embodied and petrified in the lofty pillars that surround the spot of +his martyrdom. Abelard was persecuted and imprisoned, but his spirit +revived in the Reformers of the sixteenth century, and the shrine of +Abelard and Héloise in the Père La Chaise is still decorated every year +with garlands of _immortelles_. Barbarossa was drowned in the same river +in which Alexander the Great had bathed his royal limbs, but his fame +lived on in every cottage of Germany, and the peasant near the Kyffhäuser +still believes that some day the mighty Emperor will awake from his long +slumber, and rouse the people of Germany from their fatal dreams. We dare +not hold communion with such stately heroes as Frederick the Red-beard and +Richard the Lion-heart; they seem half to belong to the realm of fable. We +feel from our very school-days as if we could shake hands with a +Themistocles and sit down in the company of a Julius Cæsar, but we are +awed by the presence of those tall and silent knights, with their hands +folded and their legs crossed, as we see them reposing in full armor on +the tombs of our cathedrals. + +And yet, however different in all other respects, these men, if they once +lift their steel beaver and unbuckle their rich armor, are wonderfully +like ourselves. Let us read the poetry which they either wrote themselves, +or to which they liked to listen in their castles on the Rhine or under +their tents in Palestine, and we find it is poetry which a Tennyson or a +Moore, a Goethe or Heine, might have written. Neither Julius Cæsar nor +Themistocles would know what was meant by such poetry. It is modern +poetry,—poetry unknown to the ancient world,—and who invented it nobody +can tell. It is sometimes called Romantic, but this is a strange misnomer. +Neither the Romans, nor the lineal descendants of the Romans, the +Italians, the Provençals, the Spaniards, can claim that poetry as their +own. It is Teutonic poetry,—purely Teutonic in its heart and soul, though +its utterance, its rhyme and metre, its grace and imagery, show the marks +of a warmer clime. It is called sentimental poetry, the poetry of the +heart rather than of the head, the picture of the inward rather than of +the outward world. It is subjective, as distinguished from objective +poetry, as the German critics, in their scholastic language, are fond of +expressing it. It is Gothic, as contrasted with classical poetry. The one, +it is said, sublimizes nature, the other bodies forth spirit; the one +deifies the human, the other humanizes the divine; the one is ethnic, the +other Christian. But all these are but names, and their true meaning must +be discovered in the works of art themselves, and in the history of the +times which produced the artists, the poets, and their ideals. We shall +perceive the difference between these two hemispheres of the Beautiful +better if we think of Homer’s “Helena” and Dante’s “Beatrice,” if we look +at the “Venus of Milo” and a “Madonna” of Francia, than in reading the +profoundest systems of æsthetics. + +The work which has caused these reflections is a volume of German poetry, +just published by Lachmann and Haupt. It is called “Des Minnesangs +Frühling,”—“the Spring of the Songs of Love;” and it contains a collection +of the poems of twenty German poets, all of whom lived during the period +of the Crusades, under the Hohenstaufen Emperors, from about 1170 to 1230. +This period may well be called the spring of German poetry, though the +summer that followed was but of short duration, and the autumn was cheated +of the rich harvest which the spring had promised. Tieck, one of the first +who gathered the flowers of that forgotten spring, describes it in glowing +language. “At that time,” he says, “believers sang of faith, lovers of +love, knights described knightly actions and battles; and loving, +believing knights were their chief audience. The spring, beauty, gayety, +were objects that could never tire: great duels and deeds of arms carried +away every hearer, the more surely, the stronger they were painted; and as +the pillars and dome of the church encircle the flock, so did religion, as +the highest, encircle poetry and reality; and every heart, in equal love, +humbled itself before her.” Carlyle, too, has listened with delight to +those merry songs of spring. “Then truly,” he says, “was the time of +singing come; for princes and prelates, emperors and squires, the wise and +the simple, men, women, and children, all sang and rhymed, or delighted in +hearing it done. It was a universal noise of song, as if the spring of +manhood had arrived, and warblings from every spray—not, indeed, without +infinite twitterings also, which, except their gladness, had no music—were +bidding it welcome.” And yet it was not all gladness; and it is strange +that Carlyle, who has so keen an ear for the silent melancholy of the +human heart, should not have heard that tone of sorrow and fateful boding +which breaks, like a suppressed sigh, through the free and light music of +that Swabian era. The brightest sky of spring is not without its clouds in +Germany, and the German heart is never happy without some sadness. Whether +we listen to a short ditty, or to the epic ballads of the “Nibelunge,” or +to Wolfram’s grand poems of the “Parcival” and the “Holy Grail,” it is the +same everywhere. There is always a mingling of light and shade,—in joy a +fear of sorrow, in sorrow a ray of hope, and throughout the whole, a +silent wondering at this strange world. Here is a specimen of an anonymous +poem; and anonymous poetry is an invention peculiarly Teutonic. It was +written before the twelfth century; its language is strangely simple, and +sometimes uncouth. But there is truth in it; and it is truth after all, +and not fiction, that is the secret of all poetry:— + +“It has pained me in the heart, +Full many a time, +That I yearned after that +Which I may not have, +Nor ever shall win. +It is very grievous. +I do not mean gold or silver; +It is more like a human heart. + +“I trained me a falcon, +More than a year. +When I had tamed him, +As I would have him, +And had well tied his feathers +With golden chains, +He soared up very high, +And flew into other lands. + +“I saw the falcon since, +Flying happily; +He carried on his foot +Silken straps, +And his plumage was +All red of gold.... +May God send them together, +Who would fain be loved.” + +The key-note of the whole poem of the “Nibelunge,” such as it was written +down at the end of the twelfth, or the beginning of the thirteenth +century, is “Sorrow after Joy.” This is the fatal spell against which all +the heroes are fighting, and fighting in vain. And as Hagen dashes the +Chaplain into the waves, in order to belie the prophecy of the Mermaids, +but the Chaplain rises, and Hagen rushes headlong into destruction, so +Chriemhilt is bargaining and playing with the same inevitable fate, +cautiously guarding her young heart against the happiness of love, that +she may escape the sorrows of a broken heart. She, too, has been dreaming +“of a wild young falcon that she trained for many a day, till two fierce +eagles tore it.” And she rushes to her mother Ute, that she may read the +dream for her; and her mother tells her what it means. And then the coy +maiden answers:— + + “No more, no more, dear mother, say, +From many a woman’s fortune this truth is clear as day, +That falsely smiling Pleasure with Pain requites us ever. +I from both will keep me, and thus will sorrow never.” + +But Siegfried comes, and Chriemhilt’s heart does no longer cast up the +bright and the dark days of life. To Siegfried she belongs; for him she +lives, and for him, when “two fierce eagles tore him,” she dies. A still +wilder tragedy lies hidden in the songs of the “Edda,” the most ancient +fragments of truly Teutonic poetry. Wolfram’s poetry is of the same sombre +cast. He wrote his “Parcival” about the time when the songs of the +“Nibelunge” were written down. The subject was taken by him from a French +source. It belonged originally to the British cycle of Arthur and his +knights. But Wolfram took the story merely as a skeleton, to which he +himself gave a new body and soul. The glory and happiness which this world +can give is to him but a shadow,—the crown for which his hero fights is +that of the Holy Grail. + +Faith, Love, and Honor are the chief subjects of the so-called +Minnesänger. They are not what we should call erotic poets. _Minne_ means +love in the old German language, but it means, originally, not so much +passion and desire, as thoughtfulness, reverence, and remembrance. In +English _Minne_ would be “Minding,” and it is different therefore from the +Greek _Eros_, the Roman Amor, and the French Amour. It is different also +from the German _Liebe_, which means originally desire, not love. Most of +the poems of the “Minnesänger” are sad rather than joyful,—joyful in +sorrow, sorrowful in joy. The same feelings have since been so often +repeated by poets in all the modern languages of Europe, that much of what +we read in the “Minnesänger” of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries +sounds stale to our ears. Yet there is a simplicity about these old songs, +a want of effort, an entire absence of any attempt to please or to +surprise; and we listen to them as we listen to a friend who tells us his +sufferings in broken and homely words, and whose truthful prose appeals to +our heart more strongly than the most elaborate poetry of a Lamartine or a +Heine. It is extremely difficult to translate these poems from the +language in which they are written, the so-called Middle High-German, into +Modern German,—much more so to render them into English. But translation +is at the same time the best test of the true poetical value of any poem, +and we believe that many of the poems of the Minnesängers can bear that +test. Here is another poem, very much in the style of the one quoted +above, but written by a poet whose name is known,—Dietmar von Eist:— + +“A lady stood alone, +And gazed across the heath, +And gazed for her love. +She saw a falcon flying. +“O happy falcon that thou art, +Thou fliest wherever thou likest; +Thou choosest in the forest +A tree that pleases thee. +Thus I too had done. +I chose myself a man: +Him my eyes selected. +Beautiful ladies envy me for it. +Alas! why will they not leave me my love? +I did not desire the beloved of any one of them. +Now woe to thee, joy of summer! +The song of birds is gone; +So are the leaves of the lime-tree: +Henceforth, my pretty eyes too +Will be overcast. +My love, thou shouldst take leave +Of other ladies; +Yes, my hero, thou shouldst avoid them. +When thou sawest me first, +I seemed to thee in truth +Right lovely made: +I remind thee of it, dear man!’ ” + +These poems, simple and homely as they may seem to us, were loved and +admired by the people for whom they were written. They were copied and +preserved with the greatest care in the albums of kings and queens, and +some of them were translated into foreign languages. The poem which we +quoted first was translated as an Italian sonnet in the thirteenth +century, and has been published in Franc Trucchi’s “Poesie Italiane +Inedite:”— + +“Tapina me, che amava uno sparviero; +amaval tanto ch’io me ne moria: +a lo richiamo ben m’era maniero +ed unque troppo pascer no’ l dovia. +or è montato e salito sì altero, +assai più altero che far non solia; +ed è assiso dentro a un verziero, +e un’altra donna l’averà in balìa. +isparvier mio, ch’io t’avea nodrito; +sonaglio d’oro ti facea portare, +perchè nell’uccellar fossi più ardito. +or sei salito siccome lo mare, +ed hai rotti li getti, e seì fuggito +quando eri fermo nel tuo uccellare.” + +One of the most original and thoughtful of the “Minnesänger” is the old +Reinmar. His poems are given now for the first time in a correct and +readable text by Lachmann and Haupt, and many a difficult passage has been +elucidated by their notes. His poems, however, are not easy to read, and +we should have been thankful for some more help than the editors have +given us in their notes. The following is a specimen of Reinmar’s poetry:— + +“High as the sun stands my heart; +That is because of a lady who can be without change +In her grace, wherever she be. +She makes me free from all sorrow. + +“I have nothing to give her, but my own life, +That belongs to her: the beautiful woman gives me always +Joy, and a high mind, +If I think of it, what she does for me. + +“Well is it for me that I found her so true! +Wherever she dwell, she alone makes every land dear to me; +If she went across the wild sea, +There I should go; I long so much for her. + +“If I had the wisdom of a thousand men, it would be well +That I keep her, whom I should serve: +May she take care right well, +That nothing sad may ever befall me through her. + +“I was never quite blessed, but through her: +Whatever I wish to her, may she allow it to me! +It was a blessed thing for me +That she, the Beautiful, received me into her grace.” + +Carlyle, no doubt, is right when he says that, among all this warbling of +love, there are infinite twitterings which, except their gladness, have +little to charm us. Yet we like to read them as part of the bright history +of those by-gone days. One poet sings:— + +“If the whole world was mine, +From the Sea to the Rhine, +I would gladly give it all, +That the Queen of England +Lay in my arms,” etc. + +Who was the impertinent German that dared to fall in love with a Queen of +England? We do not know. But there can be no doubt that the Queen of +England whom he adored was the gay and beautiful Eleanor of Poitou, the +Queen of Henry II., who filled the heart of many a Crusader with unholy +thoughts. Her daughter, too, Mathilde, who was married to Henry the Lion +of Saxony, inspired many a poet of those days. Her beauty was celebrated +by the Provençal Troubadours; and at the court of her husband, she +encouraged several of her German vassals to follow the example of the +French and Norman knights, and sing the love of Tristan and Isolt, and the +adventures of the knights of Charlemagne. They must have been happy times, +those times of the Crusades! Nor have they passed away without leaving +their impress on the hearts and minds of the nations of Europe. The Holy +Sepulchre, it is true, is still in the hands of the Infidels, and the +bones of the Crusaders lie buried in unhallowed soil, and their deeds of +valor are well-nigh forgotten, and their chivalrous Tournaments and their +Courts of Love are smiled at by a wiser generation. But much that is noble +and heroic in the feelings of the nineteenth century has its hidden roots +in the thirteenth. Gothic architecture and Gothic poetry are the children +of the same mother; and if the true but unadorned language of the heart, +the aspirations of a real faith, the sorrow and joy of a true love, are +still listened to by the nations of Europe; and if what is called the +Romantic school is strong enough to hold its ground against the classical +taste and its royal patrons, such as Louis XIV., Charles II., and +Frederick the Great,—we owe it to those chivalrous poets who dared for the +first time to be what they were, and to say what they felt, and to whom +Faith, Love, and Honor were worthy subjects of poetry, though they lacked +the sanction of the Periclean and Augustan ages. + +The new edition of the Poems of the “Minnesänger” is a masterpiece of +German scholarship. It was commenced by Lachmann, the greatest critic, +after Wolf, that Germany has produced. Lachmann died before the work was +finished, and Professor Haupt, his successor at Berlin, undertook to +finish it. His share in the edition, particularly in the notes, is greater +than that of Lachmann; and the accuracy with which the text has been +restored from more than twenty MSS., is worthy of the great pupil of that +great master. + +1858. + + + + + +III. YE SCHYPPE OF FOOLES.(9) + + +The critical periods in the history of the world are best studied in the +lives of a few representative men. The history of the German Reformation +assumes a living, intelligible, and human character in the biographies of +the Reformers; and no historian would imagine that he understood the +secret springs of that mighty revolution in Germany without having read +the works of Hutten, the table-talk of Luther, the letters of Melancthon, +and the sermons of Zwingle. But although it is easy to single out +representative men in the great decisive struggles of history, they are +more difficult to find during the preparatory periods. The years from 1450 +to 1500 are as important as the years from 1500 to 1550,—nay, to the +thoughtful historian, that silent period of incubation is perhaps of +deeper interest than the violent outburst of the sixteenth century. But +where, during those years, are the men of sufficient eminence to represent +the age in which they lived? It was an age of transition and preparation, +of dissatisfaction and hesitation. Like the whole of the fifteenth +century, “It was rich in scholars, copious in pedants, but poor in genius, +and barren of strong thinkers.” We must not look for heroes in so unheroic +an age, but be satisfied with men if they be but a head taller than their +contemporaries. + +One of the most interesting men in whose life and writings the history of +the preliminary age of the German Reformation may be studied, is Sebastian +Brant, the famous author of the famous “Ship of Fools.” He was born in the +year 1457. The Council of Basle had failed to fulfill the hopes of the +German laity as to a _reformatio ecclesiæ in capite et membris_. In the +very year of Brant’s birth, Martin Meyer, the Chancellor of Mayence, had +addressed his letter to his former friend, Æneas Sylvius,—a national +manifesto, in boldness and vigor only surpassed by the powerful pamphlet +of Luther, “To the Nobility of the German Nation.” Germany seemed to +awaken at last to her position, and to see the dangers that threatened her +political and religious freedom. The new movement which had taken place in +Italy in classical learning, supported chiefly by Greek refugees, began to +extend its quickening influence beyond the Alps. Æneas Sylvius, afterwards +Pope Pius II., 1458, writes in one of his letters, that poets were held in +no estimation in Germany, though he admits that their poetry is less to be +blamed for this than their patrons, the princes, who care far more for any +trifles than for poetry. The Germans, he says, do not care for science nor +for a knowledge of classical literature, and they have hardly heard the +name of Cicero or any other orator. In the eyes of the Italians, the +Germans were barbarians; and when Constantine Lascaris saw the first +specimen of printing, he was told by the Italian priests that this +invention had lately been made _apud barbaros in urbe __ Germaniæ_. They +were dangerous neighbors—these barbarians, who could make such discoveries +as the art of printing; and Brant lived to see the time when Joh. Cæsarius +was able to write to a friend of his: “At this moment, Germany, if she +does not surpass Italy, at least need not, and will not, yield to her, not +so much on account of her empire, as for her wonderful fecundity in +learned men, and the almost incredible growth of learning.” + +This period of slow but steady progress, from the invention of printing to +the Council of Worms, is bridged over by the life of Sebastian Brant, who +lived from 1457 to 1521. Brant was very early the friend of Peter Schott, +and through him had been brought in contact with a circle of learned men, +who were busily engaged in founding one of the first schools of classical +learning at Schlettstadt. Men like Jac. Wimpheling, Joh. Torrentinus, +Florentius Hundius, and Johannes Hugo, belonged to that society. Brant +afterwards went to Basle to study law. Basle was then a young university. +It had only been founded in 1459, but it was already a successful rival of +Heidelberg. The struggle between the Realists and Nominalists was then +raging all over Europe, and it divided the University of Basle into two +parties, each of them trying to gain influence and adherents among the +young students. It has been usual to look upon the Realists as the +Conservative, and upon the Nominalists as the Liberal party of the +fifteenth century. But although at times this was the case, philosophical +opinions, on which the differences between these two parties were founded, +were not of sufficient strength to determine for any length of time the +political and religious bias of either school. The Realists were chiefly +supported by the Dominicans, the Nominalists by the Franciscans; and there +is always a more gentle expression beaming in the eyes of the followers of +the seraphic Doctor, particularly if contrasted with the stern frown of +the Dominican. Ockam himself was a Franciscan, and those who thought with +him were called _doctores renovatores_ and _sophistæ._ Suddenly, however, +the tables were turned. At Oxford, the Realists, in following out their +principles in a more independent spirit, had arrived at results dangerous +to the peace of the Church. As philosophers, they began to carry out the +doctrines of Plato in good earnest; as reformers, they looked wistfully to +the early centuries of the Christian Church. The same liberal and +independent spirit reached from Oxford to Prague, and the expulsion of the +German nation from that university may be traced to the same movement. The +Realists were at that time no longer in the good odor of orthodoxy; and, +at the Council of Constanz, the Nominalists, such as Joh. Gerson and +Petrus de Alliaco, gained triumphs which seemed for a time to make them +the arbiters of public opinion in Germany, and to give them the means of +securing the Church against the attacks of Huss on one side, and against +the more dangerous encroachments of the Pope and the monks on the other. +This triumph, however, was of short duration. All the rights which the +Germans seemed to have conquered at the Councils of Constanz and Basle +were sacrificed by their own Emperor. No one dared to say again what +Gregory von Heimburg had said to the Italian clergy,—“Quid fines alienos +invaditis? quid falcem vestram in messem alienam extenditis?” Under Æneas +Sylvius, the power of the Pope in Germany was as absolute as ever. The +Nominalist party lost all the ground which it had gained before. It was +looked upon with suspicion by Pope and Emperor. It was banished from +courts and universities, and the disciples of the Realistic school began a +complete crusade against the followers of Ockam. + +Johannes Heynlin a Lapide, a former head of a house in Paris, migrated to +Basle, in order to lend his influence and authority to the Realist party +in that rising university. Trithemius says of him: “Hic doctrinam eorum +Parisiensium qui reales appellantur primus ad Basiliensium universitatem +transtulit, ibidemque plantavit, roboravit et auxit.” This Johannes +Heynlin a Lapide, however, though a violent champion of the then +victorious Realist party, was by no means a man without liberal +sentiments. On many points the Realists were more tolerant, or at least +more enlightened, than the Nominalists. They counted among themselves +better scholars than the adherents of Ockam. They were the first and +foremost to point out the uselessness of the dry scholastic system of +teaching grammar and logic, and nothing else. And though they cherished +their own ideas as to the supreme authority of the Pope, the divine right +of the Emperor, or the immaculate conception of the Virgin (a dogma denied +by the Dominicans, and defended by the Franciscans), they were always +ready to point out abuses and to suggest reforms. The age in which they +lived was not an age of decisive thought or decisive action. There was a +want of character in individuals as well as in parties; and the points in +which they differed were of small importance, though they masked +differences of greater weight. At Basle, the men who were gathered round +Johannes a Lapide were what we should call Liberal Conservatives, and it +is among them that we find Sebastian Brant. Basle could then boast of some +of the most eminent men of the time. Besides Agricola, and Wimpheling, and +Geiler von Kaisersberg, and Trithemius, Reuchlin was there for a time, and +Wessel, and the Greek Kontablacos. Sebastian Brant, though on friendly +terms with most of these men, was their junior; and, among his +contemporaries, a new generation grew up, more independent and more +free-spoken than their masters, though as yet very far from any +revolutionary views in matters of Church or State. Feuds broke out very +soon between the old and the young schools. Locher, the friend of +Brant,—the poet who had turned his “Ship of Fools” into Latin +verse,—published a poem, in which he attacked rather petulantly the +scholastic philosophy and theology. Wimpheling, at the request of Geiler +of Kaisersberg, had to punish him for this audacity, and he did it in a +pamphlet full of the most vulgar abuse. Reuchlin also had given offense, +and was attacked and persecuted; but his party retaliated by the “Epistolæ +Obscurorum Virorum.” Thus the Conservative, or Realistic party became +divided; and when, at the beginning of a new century and a new era in the +history of the world, Luther raised his voice in defense of national and +religious freedom, he was joined not only by the more advanced descendants +of the Nominalistic school, but by all the vigor, the talent, and the +intellect of the old Conservatives. + +Brant himself, though he lived at Strassburg up to 1521, did not join the +standard of the Reformation. He had learned to grumble, to find fault, to +abuse, and to condemn; but his time was gone when the moment for action +arrived. And yet he helped toward the success of the Reformation in +Germany. He had been one of the first, after the discovery of printing, to +use the German language for political purposes. His fly-sheets, his +illustrated editions, had given useful hints how to address the large +masses of the people. If he looked upon the world, as it then was, as a +ship of fools, and represented every weakness, vice, and wickedness under +the milder color of foolery, the people who read his poems singled out +some of his fools, and called them knaves. The great work of Sebastian +Brant was his “Narrenschiff.” It was first published in 1497, at Basle, +and the first edition, though on account of its wood-cuts it could not +have been a very cheap book, was sold off at once. Edition after edition +followed, and translations were published in Latin, in Low-German, in +Dutch, in French, and English. Sermons were preached on the +“Narrenschiff;” Trithemius calls it _Divina Satira_, Locher compares Brant +with Dante, Hutten calls him the new lawgiver of German poetry. The +“Narrenschiff” is a work which we may still read with pleasure, though it +is difficult to account for its immense success at the time of its +publication. Some historians ascribe it to the wood-cuts. They are +certainly very clever, and there is reason to suppose that most of them +were, if not actually drawn, at least suggested by Brant himself. Yet even +a Turner has failed to render mediocre poetry popular by his +illustrations, and there is nothing to show that the caricatures of Brant +were preferred to his satires. Now his satires, it is true, are not very +powerful, nor pungent, nor original. But his style is free and easy. Brant +is not a ponderous poet. He writes in short chapters, and mixes his fools +in such a manner that we always meet with a variety of new faces. It is +true that all this would hardly be sufficient to secure a decided success +for a work like his at the present day. But then we must remember the time +in which he wrote. What had the poor people of Germany to read toward the +end of the fifteenth century? Printing had been invented, and books were +published and sold with great rapidity. People were not only fond, but +proud, of reading books. Reading was fashionable, and the first fool who +enters Brant’s ship is the man who buys books. But what were the books +that were offered for sale? We find among the early prints of the +fifteenth century religious, theological, and classical works in great +abundance, and we know that the respectable and wealthy burghers of +Augsburg and Strassburg were proud to fill their shelves with these portly +volumes. But then German aldermen had wives, and daughters, and sons, and +what were they to read during the long winter evenings? The poetry of the +thirteenth century was no longer intelligible, and the fourteenth and +fifteenth centuries had produced very little that would be to the taste of +young ladies and gentlemen. The poetry of the “Meistersänger” was not very +exhilarating. The romances of “The Book of Heroes” had lost all their +native charms under the rough treatment they had experienced at the hand +of their latest editor, Casper von der Roen. The so-called “Misteries” +(not mysteries) might be very well as Christmas pantomimes once a year, +but they could not be read for their own sake, like the dramatic +literature of later times. The light literature of the day consisted +entirely in novels; and in spite of their miserable character, their +popularity was immense. Besides the “Gesta Romanorum,” which were turned +into German verse and prose, we meet with French novels, such as “Lother +and Maler,” translated by a Countess of Nassau in 1437, and printed in +1514; “Pontus and Sidonia,” translated from the French by Eleanor of +Scotland, the wife of Sigismund of Austria, published 1498; “Melusina,” +equally from the French, published 1477. The old epic poems of “Tristan,” +and “Lancelot,” and “Wigalois,” were too long and tedious. People did not +care any longer for the deep thoughts of Wolfram von Eschenbach, and the +beautiful poetry of Gottfried von Strassburg. They wanted only the plot, +the story, the dry bones; and these were dished up in the prose novels of +the fifteenth century, and afterwards collected in the so-called “Book of +Love.” There was room, therefore, at that time for a work like the “Ship +of Fools.” It was the first printed book that treated of contemporaneous +events and living persons, instead of old German battles and French +knights. People are always fond of reading the history of their own times. +If the good qualities of their age are brought out, they think of +themselves or their friends; if the dark features of their contemporaries +are exhibited, they think of their neighbors and enemies. Now, the “Ship +of Fools” is just such a satire which ordinary people would read, and read +with pleasure. They might feel a slight twinge now and then, but they +would put down the book at the end, and thank God that they were not like +other men. There is a chapter on Misers,—and who would not gladly give a +penny to a beggar? There is a chapter on Gluttony,—and who was ever more +than a little exhilarated after dinner? There is a chapter on +Church-goers,—and who ever went to church for respectability’s sake, or to +show off a gaudy dress, or a fine dog, or a new hawk? There is a chapter +on Dancing,—and who ever danced except for the sake of exercise? There is +a chapter on Adultery,—and who ever did more than flirt with his +neighbor’s wife? We sometimes wish that Brant’s satire had been a little +more searching, and that, instead of his many allusions to classical fools +(for his book is full of scholarship), he had given us a little more of +the _chronique scandaleuse_ of his own time. But he was too good a man to +do this, and his contemporaries no doubt were grateful to him for his +forbearance. + +Brant’s poem is not easy to read. Though he was a contemporary of Luther, +his language differs much more from modern German than Luther’s +translation of the Bible. His “Ship of Fools” wanted a commentary, and +this want has been supplied by one of the most learned and industrious +scholars of Germany, Professor Zarncke, in his lately published edition of +the “Narrenschiff.” This must have been a work of many years of hard +labor. Nothing that is worth knowing about Brant and his works has been +omitted, and we hardly know of any commentary on Aristophanes or Juvenal +in which every difficulty is so honestly met as in Professor Zarncke’s +notes on the German satirist. The editor is a most minute and painstaking +critic. He tries to reëstablish the correct reading of every word, and he +enters upon his work with as much zeal as if the world could not be saved +till every tittle of Brant’s poem had been restored. He is, however, not +only a critic, but a sensible and honest man. He knows what is worth +knowing and what is not, and he does not allow himself to be carried away +by a desire to display his own superior acquirements,—a weakness which +makes so many of his colleagues forgetful of the real ends of knowledge, +and the real duties of the scholar and the historian. + +We have to say a few words on the English translation of Brant’s “Ship of +Fools.” It was not made from the original, but from Locher’s Latin +translation. It reproduces the matter, but not the manner of the original +satire. Some portions are added by the translator, Alexander Barclay, and +in some parts his translation is an improvement on the original. It was +printed in 1508, published 1509, and went through several editions. + +The following may serve as a specimen of Barclay’s translation, and of his +original contributions to Brant’s “Navis Stultifera:”— + +“Here beginneth the ‘Ship of Fooles,’ and first of unprofitable books:— + +“I am the first foole of all the whole navie, +To keep the Pompe, the Helme, and eke the Sayle: +For this is my minde, this one pleasure have I, +Of bookes to have great plentie and apparayle. +I take no wisdome by them, not yet avayle, +Nor them perceave not, and then I them despise: +Thus am I a foole, and all that sue that guise. + +“That in this Ship the chiefe place I governe, +By this wide Sea with fooles wandring, +The cause is plaine and easy to discerne, +Still am I busy, bookes assembling, +For to have plentie it is a pleasant thing +In my conceyt, and to have them ay in hande: +But what they meane do I not understande. + +“But yet I have them in great reverence +And honoure, saving them from filth and ordure, +By often brusshing and much diligence, +Full goodly bounde in pleasant coverture, +Of Damas, Sattin, or els of Velvet pure: +I keepe them sure, fearing least they should be lost, +For in them is the cunning wherein I me boast. + +“But if it fortune that any learned men +Within my house fall to disputation, +I drawe the curtaynes to shewe my bokes then, +That they of my cunning should make probation: +I kepe not to fall in alterication, +And while they comment, my bookes I turne and winde, +For all is in them, and nothing in my minde.” + +In the fourth chapter, “Of newe fassions and disguised garmentes,” there +is at the end what is called “The Lenvoy of Alexander Barclay,” and in it +an allusion to Henry VIII.:— + +“But ye proude galants that thus your selfe disguise, +Be ye ashamed, beholde unto your prince: +Consider his sadness, his honestie devise, +His clothing expresseth his inwarde prudence, +Ye see no example of such inconvenience +In his highness, but godly wit and gravitie, +Ensue him, and sorrowe for your enormitie.” + + + + + +IV. LIFE OF SCHILLER.(10) + + +The hundredth anniversary of the birthday of Schiller, which, according to +the accounts published in the German newspapers, seems to have been +celebrated in most parts of the civilized, nay, even the uncivilized +world, is an event in some respects unprecedented in the literary annals +of the human race. A nation honors herself by honoring her sons, and it is +but natural that in Germany every town and village should have vied in +doing honor to the memory of one of their greatest poets. The letters +which have reached us from every German capital relate no more than what +we expected. There were meetings and feastings, balls and theatrical +representations. The veteran philologist, Jacob Grimm, addressed the +Berlin Academy on the occasion in a soul-stirring oration; the directors +of the Imperial Press at Vienna seized the opportunity to publish a +splendid album, or “Schillerbuch,” in honor of the poet; unlimited +eloquence was poured forth by professors and academicians; school children +recited Schiller’s ballads; the German students shouted the most popular +of his songs; nor did the ladies of Germany fail in paying their tribute +of gratitude to him who, since the days of the Minnesängers, had been the +most eloquent herald of female grace and dignity. In the evening torch +processions might be seen marching through the streets, bonfires were +lighted on the neighboring hills, houses were illuminated, and even the +solitary darkness of the windows of the Papal Nuncio at Vienna added to +the lustre of the day.(11) In every place where Schiller had spent some +years of his life, local recollections were revived and perpetuated by +tablets and monuments. The most touching account of all came from the +small village of Cleversulzbach. On the village cemetery, or, as it is +called in German, the “God’s-acre,” there stands a tombstone, and on it +the simple inscription, “Schiller’s Mother.” On the morning of her son’s +birthday the poor people of the village were gathered together round that +grave, singing one of their sacred hymns, and planting a lime-tree in the +soil which covers the heart that loved him best. + +But the commemoration of Schiller’s birthday was not confined to his +native country. We have seen, in the German papers, letters from St. +Petersburg and Lisbon, from Venice, Rome, and Florence, from Amsterdam, +Stockholm, and Christiana, from Warsaw and Odessa, from Jassy and +Bucharest, from Constantinople, Algiers, and Smyrna, and lately from +America and Australia, all describing the festive gatherings which were +suggested, no doubt, by Schiller’s cosmopolitan countrymen, but joined in +most cheerfully by all the nations of the globe. Poets of higher rank than +Schiller—Dante, Shakespeare, and Goethe—have never aroused such world-wide +sympathies; and it is not without interest to inquire into the causes +which have secured to Schiller this universal popularity. However +superlative the praises which have lately been heaped on Schiller’s poetry +by those who cannot praise except in superlatives, we believe that it was +not the poet, but the man, to whom the world has paid this unprecedented +tribute of love and admiration. After reading Schiller’s works we must +read Schiller’s life,—the greatest of all his works. It is a life not +unknown to the English public, for it has been written by Carlyle. The +last festivities, however, have given birth to several new biographies. +Palleske’s “Life of Schiller” has met with such success in Germany that it +well deserved the honor which it has lately received at the hands of Lady +Wallace, and under the special patronage of the Queen, of being translated +into English. Another very careful and lucid account of the poet’s life is +due to the pen of a member of the French Institute, M. A. Regnier, the +distinguished tutor of the Comte de Paris. + +In reading these lives, together with the voluminous literature which is +intended to illustrate the character of the German poet, we frequently +felt inclined to ask one question, to which none of Schiller’s biographers +has returned a satisfactory answer: “What were the peculiar circumstances +which brought out in Germany, and in the second half of the eighteenth +century, a man of the moral character, and a poet of the creative genius, +of Schiller?” Granted that he was endowed by nature with the highest +talents, how did he grow to be a poet, such as we know him, different from +all other German poets, and yet in thought, feeling, and language the most +truly German of all the poets of Germany? Are we reduced to appeal to the +mysterious working of an unknown power, if we wish to explain to ourselves +why, in the same country and at the same time, poetical genius assumed +such different forms as are seen in the writings of Schiller and Goethe? +Is it to be ascribed to what is called individuality, a word which in +truth explains nothing; or is it possible for the historian and +psychologist to discover the hidden influences which act on the growing +mind, and produce that striking variety of poetical genius which we admire +in the works of contemporaneous poets, such as Schiller and Goethe in +Germany, or Wordsworth and Byron in England? Men grow not only from +within, but also from without. We know that a poet is born,—_poeta +nascitur_,—but we also know that his character must be formed; the seed is +given, but the furrow must be ploughed in which it is to grow; and the +same grain which, if thrown on cultivated soil, springs into fullness and +vigor, will dwindle away, stunted and broken, if cast upon shallow and +untilled land. There are certain events in the life of every man which +fashion and stamp his character; they may seem small and unimportant in +themselves, but they are great and important to each of us; they mark that +slight bend where two lines which had been running parallel begin to +diverge, never to meet again. The Greeks call such events _epochs_, _i.e._ +halts. + +We halt for a moment, we look about and wonder, and then choose our +further way in life. It is the duty of biographers to discover such +epochs, such halting-points, in the lives of their heroes; and we shall +endeavor to do the same in the life of Schiller by watching the various +influences which determined the direction of his genius at different +periods of his poetical career. + +The period of Schiller’s childhood is generally described with great +detail by his biographers. We are told who his ancestors were. I believe +they were bakers. We are informed that his mother possessed in her +_trousseau_, among other things, four pairs of stockings,—three of cotton, +one of wool. There are also long discussions on the exact date of his +birth. We hear a great deal of early signs of genius, or rather, we should +say, of things done and said by most children, but invested with +extraordinary significance if remembered of the childhood of great men. To +tell the truth, we can find nothing very important in what we thus learn +of the early years of Schiller, nor does the poet himself in later years +dwell much on the recollections of his dawning mind. If we must look for +some determinating influences during the childhood of Schiller, they are +chiefly to be found in the character of his father. The father was not +what we should call a well-educated man. He had been brought up as a +barber and surgeon; had joined a Bavarian regiment in 1745, during the +Austrian war of succession; and had acted as a non-commissioned officer, +and, when occasion required, as a chaplain. After the peace of +Aix-la-Chapelle he had married the daughter of an innkeeper. He was a +brave man, a God-fearing man, and, as is not unfrequently the case with +half-educated people, a man very fond of reading. What he had failed to +attain himself, he wished to see realized in his only son. The following +prayer was found among the papers of the father: “And Thou, Being of all +beings, I have asked Thee after the birth of my only son, that Thou +wouldst add to his powers of intellect what I from deficient instruction +was unable to attain. Thou hast heard me. Thanks be to Thee, bounteous +Being, that Thou heedest the prayers of mortals.” A man of this stamp of +mind would be sure to exercise his own peculiar influence on his children. +He would make them look on life, not as a mere profession, where the son +has only to follow in the steps of his father; his children would early +become familiar with such ideas as “_making_ one’s way in life,” and would +look forward to a steep path rather than to a beaten track. Their thoughts +would dwell on the future at a time when other children live in the +present only, and an adventurous spirit would be roused, without which no +great work has ever been conceived and carried out. + +When his children, young Frederick and his sisters, were growing up, their +father read to them their morning and evening prayers; and so fond was the +boy of the Old and New Testament stories that he would often leave his +games in order to be present at his father’s readings. In 1765 the family +left Marbach on the Neckar. The father was ordered by the Duke of +Wurtemberg to Lorch, a place on the frontier, where he had to act as +recruiting officer. His son received his education in the house of a +clergyman, began Latin at six, Greek at seven; and as far as we are able +to see, he neither seems to have considered himself, nor to have been +considered by his masters, as very superior to other boys. He was a good +boy, tenderly attached to his parents, fond of games, and regular at +school. There are but two marked features which we have an opportunity of +watching in him as a boy. He knew no fear, and he was full of the warmest +sympathy for others. The first quality secured him the respect, the second +the love, of those with whom he came in contact. His parents, who were +poor, had great difficulty in restraining his generosity. He would give +away his school-books and the very buckles off his shoes. Both his +fearlessness and universal sympathy are remarkable through the whole of +his after-life. Not even his enemies could point out one trait of +cowardice or selfishness in anything he ever did, or said, or wrote. There +are some pertinent remarks on the combination of these two qualities, +sympathy with others and courage, by the author of “Friends in Council.” + + + “If greatness,” he writes, “can be shut up in qualities, it will + be found to consist in courage and in openness of mind and soul. + These qualities may not seem at first to be so potent. But see + what _growth_ there is in them. The education of a man of open + mind is never ended. Then with openness of soul a man sees some + way into all other souls that come near him, feels with them, has + their experience, is in himself a people. Sympathy is the + universal solvent. Nothing is understood without it.... Add + courage to this openness, and you have a man who can own himself + in the wrong, can forgive, can trust, can adventure, can, in + short, use all the means that insight and sympathy endow him + with.” + + +A plucky and warm-hearted boy, under the care of an honest, brave, and +intelligent father and a tender and religious mother,—this is all we know +and care to know about Schiller during the first ten years of his life. In +the year 1768 there begins a new period in the life of Schiller. His +father was settled at Ludwigsburg, the ordinary residence of the reigning +Duke of Wurtemberg, the Duke Charles. This man was destined to exercise a +decisive influence on Schiller’s character. Like many German sovereigns in +the middle of the last century, Duke Charles of Wurtemberg had felt the +influence of those liberal ideas which had found so powerful an utterance +in the works of the French and English philosophers of the eighteenth +century. The philosophy which in France was smiled at by kings and +statesmen, while it roused the people to insurrection and regicide, +produced in Germany a deeper impression on the minds of the sovereigns and +ruling classes than of the people. In the time of Frederick the Great and +Joseph II. it became fashionable among sovereigns to profess Liberalism, +and to work for the enlightenment of the human race. It is true that this +liberal policy was generally carried out in a rather despotic way, and +people were emancipated and enlightened very much as the ancient Saxons +were converted by Charlemagne. We have an instance of this in the case of +Schiller. Duke Charles had founded an institution where orphans and the +sons of poor officers were educated free of expense. He had been informed +that young Schiller was a promising boy, and likely to reflect credit on +his new institution, and he proceeded without further inquiry to place him +on the list of his _protégés_, assigning to him a place at his military +school. It was useless for the father to remonstrate, and explain to the +Duke that his son had a decided inclination for the Church. Schiller was +sent to the Academy in 1773, and ordered to study law. The young student +could not but see that an injustice had been done him, and the irritation +which it caused was felt by him all the more deeply because it would have +been dangerous to give expression to his feelings. The result was that he +made no progress in the subjects which he had been commanded to study. In +1775 he was allowed to give up law, not, however, to return to theology, +but to begin the study of medicine. But medicine, though at first it +seemed more attractive, failed, like law, to call forth his full energies. +In the mean time another interference on the part of the Duke proved even +more abortive, and to a certain extent determined the path which +Schiller’s genius was to take in life. The Duke had prohibited all German +classics at his Academy; the boys, nevertheless, succeeded in forming a +secret library, and Schiller read the works of Klopstock, Klinger, +Lessing, Goethe, and Wieland’s translations of Shakespeare with rapture, +no doubt somewhat increased by the dangers he braved in gaining access to +these treasures. In 1780, the same year in which he passed his examination +and received the appointment of regimental surgeon, Schiller wrote his +first tragedy, “The Robbers.” His taste for dramatic poetry had been +roused partly by Goethe’s “Goetz von Berlichingen” and Shakespeare’s +plays, partly by his visits to the theatre, which, under the patronage of +the Duke, was then in a very flourishing state. The choice of the subject +of his first dramatic composition was influenced by the circumstances of +his youth. His poetical sympathy for a character such as Karl Moor, a man +who sets at defiance all the laws of God and man, can only be accounted +for by the revulsion of feeling produced on his boyish mind by the strict +military discipline to which all the pupils at the Academy were subjected. +His sense of right and wrong was strong enough to make him paint his hero +as a monster, and to make him inflict on him the punishment he merited. +But the young poet could not resist the temptation of throwing a brighter +light on the redeeming points in the character of a robber and murderer by +pointedly placing him in contrast with the even darker shades of +hypocritical respectability and saintliness in the picture of his brother +Franz. The language in which Schiller paints his characters is powerful, +but it is often wild and even coarse. The Duke did not approve of his +former _protégé_; the very title-page of “The Robbers” was enough to +offend his Serene Highness,—it contained a rising lion, with the motto +“_In tyrannos_.” The Duke gave a warning to the young military surgeon, +and when, soon after, he heard of his going secretly to Mannheim to be +present at the first performance of his play, he ordered him to be put +under military arrest. All these vexations Schiller endured, because he +knew full well there was no escape from the favors of his royal protector. +But when at last he was ordered never to publish again except on medical +subjects, and to submit all his poetical compositions to the Duke’s +censorship, this proved too much for our young poet. His ambition had been +roused. He had sat at Mannheim a young man of twenty, unknown, amid an +audience of men and women who listened with rapturous applause to his own +thoughts and words. That evening at the theatre of Mannheim had been a +decisive evening,—it was an epoch in the history of his life; he had felt +his power and the calling of his genius; he had perceived, though in a dim +distance, the course he had to run and the laurels he had to gain. When he +saw that the humor of the Duke was not likely to improve, he fled from a +place where his wings were clipped and his voice silenced. Now, this +flight from one small German town to another may seem a matter of very +little consequence at present. But in Schiller’s time it was a matter of +life and death. German sovereigns were accustomed to look upon their +subjects as their property. Without even the show of a trial the poet +Schubart had been condemned to life-long confinement by this same Duke +Charles. Schiller, in fleeing his benefactor’s dominions, had not only +thrown away all his chances in life, but he had placed his safety and the +safety of his family in extreme danger. It was a bold, perhaps a reckless +step. But whatever we may think of it in a moral point of view, as +historians we must look upon it as the Hegira in the life of the poet. + +Schiller was now a man of one or two and twenty, thrown upon the world +penniless, with nothing to depend on but his brains. The next ten years +were hard years for him; they were years of unsettledness, sometimes of +penury and despair, sometimes of extravagance and folly. This third period +in Schiller’s life is not marked by any great literary achievements. It +would be almost a blank were it not for the “Don Carlos,” which he wrote +during his stay near Dresden, between 1785-87. His “Fiesco” and “Cabale +und Liebe,” though they came out after his flight from Stuttgard, had been +conceived before, and they were only repeated protests, in the form of +tragedies, against the tyranny of rulers and the despotism of society. +They show no advance in the growth of Schiller’s mind. Yet that mind, +though less productive than might have been expected, was growing as every +mind grows between the years of twenty and thirty; and it was growing +chiefly through contact with men. We must make full allowance for the +powerful influence exercised at that time by the literature of the day (by +the writings of Herder, Lessing, and Goethe), and by political events, +such as the French Revolution. But if we watch Schiller’s career +carefully, we see that his character was chiefly moulded by his +intercourse with men. His life was rich in friendships, and what mainly +upheld him in his struggles and dangers was the sympathy of several +high-born and high-minded persons, in whom the ideals of his own mind +seemed to have found their fullest realization. + +Next to our faith in God, there is nothing so essential to the healthy +growth of our whole being as an unshaken faith in man. This faith in man +is the great feature in Schiller’s character, and he owes it to a kind +Providence which brought him in contact with such noble natures as Frau +von Wolzogen, Körner, Dalberg; in later years with his wife; with the Duke +of Weimar, the Prince of Augustenburg, and lastly with Goethe. There was +at that time a powerful tension in the minds of men, and particularly of +the higher classes, which led them to do things which at other times men +only aspire to do. The impulses of a most exalted morality—a morality +which is so apt to end in mere declamation and deceit—were not only felt +by them, but obeyed and carried out. Frau von Wolzogen, knowing nothing of +Schiller except that he had been at the same school with her son, received +the exiled poet, though fully aware that by doing so she might have +displeased the Duke and blasted her fortunes and those of her children. +Schiller preserved the tenderest attachment to this motherly friend +through life, and his letters to her display a most charming innocence and +purity of mind. + +Another friend was Körner, a young lawyer living at Leipzig, and +afterwards at Dresden—a man who had himself to earn his bread. He had +learned to love Schiller from his writings; he received him at his house, +a perfect stranger, and shared with the poor poet his moderate income with +a generosity worthy of a prince. He, too, remained his friend through +life; his son was Theodore Körner, the poet of “Lyre and Sword,” who fell +fighting as a volunteer for his country against French invaders. + +A third friend and patron of Schiller was Dalberg. He was the coadjutor, +and was to have been the successor, of the Elector of Hesse, then an +ecclesiastical Electorate. His rank was that of a reigning prince, and he +was made afterwards by Napoleon Fürst-Primas—Prince Primate—of the +Confederation of the Rhine. But it was not his station, his wealth, and +influence, it was his mind and heart which made him the friend of +Schiller, Goethe, Herder, Wieland, Jean Paul, and all the most eminent +intellects of his time. It is refreshing to read the letters of this +Prince. Though they belong to a later period of Schiller’s life, a few +passages may here be quoted in order to characterize his friend and +patron. Dalberg had promised Schiller a pension of 4,000 florins (not +4,000 thalers, as M. Regnier asserts) as soon as he should succeed to the +Electorate, and Schiller in return had asked him for some hints with +regard to his own future literary occupations. The Prince answers: “Your +letter has delighted me. To be remembered by a man of your heart and mind +is a true joy to me. I do not venture to determine what Schiller’s +comprehensive and vivifying genius is to undertake. But may I be allowed +to humbly express a wish that spirits endowed with the powers of giants +should ask themselves, ‘How can I be most useful to mankind?’ This +inquiry, I think, leads most surely to immortality, and the rewards of a +peaceful conscience. May you enjoy the purest happiness, and think +sometimes of your friend and servant, Dalberg.” When Schiller was +hesitating between history and dramatic poetry, Dalberg’s keen eye +discovered at once that the stage was Schiller’s calling, and that there +his influence would be most beneficial. Schiller seemed to think that a +professorial chair in a German university was a more honorable position +than that of a poet. Dalberg writes: “Influence on mankind” (for this he +knew to be Schiller’s highest ambition) “depends on the vigor and strength +which a man throws into his works. Thucydides and Xenophon would not deny +that poets like Sophocles and Horace have had at least as much influence +on the world as they themselves.” When the French invasion threatened the +ruin of Germany and the downfall of the German sovereigns, Dalberg writes +again, in 1796, with perfect serenity: “True courage must never fail! The +friends of virtue and truth ought now to act and speak all the more +vigorously and straightforwardly. In the end, what you, excellent friend, +have so beautifully said in your ‘Ideals’ remains true: ‘The diligence of +the righteous works slowly but surely, and friendship is soothing comfort. +It is only when I hope to be hereafter of assistance to my friends that I +wish for a better fate.’ ” The society and friendship of such men, who are +rare in all countries and in all ages, served to keep up in Schiller’s +mind those ideal notions of mankind which he had first imbibed from his +own heart, and from the works of philosophers. They find expression in all +his writings, but are most eloquently described in his “Don Carlos.” We +should like to give some extracts from the dialogue between King Philip +and the Marquis Posa; but our space is precious, and hardly allows us to +do more than just to glance at those other friends and companions whose +nobility of mind and generosity of heart left so deep an impress on the +poet’s soul. + +The name of Karl August, the Duke of Weimar, has acquired such a +world-wide celebrity as the friend of Goethe and Schiller that we need not +dwell long on his relation to our poet. As early as 1784 Schiller was +introduced to him at Darmstadt, where he was invited to court to read some +scenes of his “Don Carlos.” The Duke gave him then the title of “Rath,” +and from the year 1787, when Schiller first settled at Weimar, to the time +of his death, in 1804, he remained his firm friend. The friendship of the +Prince was returned by the poet, who, in the days of his glory, declined +several advantageous offers from Vienna and other places, and remained at +the court of Weimar, satisfied with the small salary which that great Duke +was able to give him. + +There was but one other Prince whose bounty Schiller accepted, and his +name deserves to be mentioned, not so much for his act of generosity as +for the sentiment which prompted it. In 1792, when Schiller was ill and +unable to write, he received a letter from the Hereditary Prince of +Holstein-Augustenburg and from Count Schimmelmann. We quote from the +letter:— + + + “Your shattered health, we hear, requires rest, but your + circumstances do not allow it. Will you grudge us the pleasure of + enabling you to enjoy that rest? We offer you for three years an + annual present of 1,000 thalers. Accept this offer, noble man. Let + not our titles induce you to decline it. We know what they are + worth; we know no pride but that of being men, citizens of that + great republic which comprises more than the life of single + generations, more than the limits of this globe. You have to deal + with men,—your brothers,—not with proud princes, who, by this + employment of their wealth, would fain indulge but in a more + refined kind of pride.” + + +No conditions were attached to this present, though a situation in Denmark +was offered if Schiller should wish to go there. Schiller accepted the +gift so nobly offered, but he never saw his unknown friends.(12) We owe to +them, humanly speaking, the last years of Schiller’s life, and with them +the master-works of his genius, from “Wallenstein” to “William Tell.” As +long as these works are read and admired, the names of these noble +benefactors will be remembered and revered. + +The name of her whom we mentioned next among Schiller’s noble friends and +companions,—we mean his wife,—reminds us that we have anticipated events, +and that we left Schiller after his flight in 1782, at the very beginning +of his most trying years. His hopes of success at Mannheim had failed. The +director of the Mannheim theatre, also a Dalberg, declined to assist him. +He spent the winter in great solitude at the country-house of Frau von +Wolzogen, finishing “Cabale und Liebe,” and writing “Fiesco.” In the +summer of 1783 he returned to Mannheim, where he received an appointment +in connection with the theatre of about £40 a year. Here he stayed till +1785, when he went to Leipzig, and afterwards to Dresden, living chiefly +at the expense of his friend Körner. This unsettled kind of life continued +till 1787, and produced, as we saw, little more than his tragedy of “Don +Carlos.” In the mean time, however, his taste for history had been +developed. He had been reading more systematically at Dresden, and after +he had gone to Weimar in 1787 he was able to publish, in 1788, his +“History of the Revolt of the Netherlands.” On the strength of this he was +appointed professor at Jena in 1789, first without a salary, afterwards +with about £30 a year. He tells us himself how hard he had to work: “Every +day,” he says, “I must compose a whole lecture and write it out,—nearly +two sheets of printed matter, not to mention the time occupied in +delivering the lecture and making extracts.” However, he had now gained a +position, and his literary works began to be better paid. In 1790 he was +enabled to marry a lady of rank, who was proud to become the wife of the +poor poet, and was worthy to be the “wife of Schiller.” Schiller was now +chiefly engaged in historical researches. He wrote his “History of the +Thirty Years’ War” in 1791-92, and it was his ambition to be recognized as +a German professor rather than as a German poet. He had to work hard in +order to make up for lost time, and under the weight of excessive labor +his health broke down. He was unable to lecture, unable to write. It was +then that the generous present of the Duke of Augustenburg freed him for a +time from the most pressing cares, and enabled him to recover his health. + +The years of thirty to thirty-five were a period of transition and +preparation in Schiller’s life, to be followed by another ten years of +work and triumph. These intermediate years were chiefly spent in reading +history and studying philosophy, more especially the then reigning +philosophy of Kant. Numerous essays on philosophy, chiefly on the Good, +the Beautiful, and the Sublime, were published during this interval. But +what is more important, Schiller’s mind was enlarged, enriched, and +invigorated; his poetical genius, by lying fallow for a time, gave promise +of a richer harvest to come; his position in the world became more +honorable, and his confidence in himself was strengthened by the +confidence placed in him by all around him. A curious compliment was paid +him by the Legislative Assembly then sitting at Paris. On the 26th of +August, 1792, a decree was passed, conferring the title of _Citoyen +Français_ on eighteen persons belonging to various countries, friends of +liberty and universal brotherhood. In the same list with Schiller were the +names of Klopstock, Campe, Washington, Kosciusko, and Wilberforce. The +decree was signed by Roland, Minister of the Interior, and countersigned +by Danton. It did not reach Schiller till after the enthusiasm which he +too had shared for the early heroes of the French Revolution had given way +to disappointment and horror. In the month of December of the very year in +which he had been thus honored by the Legislative Assembly, Schiller was +on the point of writing an appeal to the French nation in defense of Louis +XVI. The King’s head, however, had fallen before this defense was begun. +Schiller, a true friend of true liberty, never ceased to express his +aversion to the violent proceedings of the French revolutionists. “It is +the work of passion,” he said, “and not of that wisdom which alone can +lead to real liberty.” He admitted that many important ideas, which +formerly existed in books only or in the heads of a few enlightened +people, had become more generally current through the French Revolution. +But he maintained that the real principles which ought to form the basis +of a truly happy political constitution were still hidden from view. +Pointing to a volume of Kant’s “Criticism of Pure Reason,” he said, “There +they are, and nowhere else; the French republic will fall as rapidly as it +has risen; the republican government will lapse into anarchy, and sooner +or later a man of genius will appear (he may come from any place) who will +make himself not only master of France, but perhaps also of a great part +of Europe.” This was a remarkable prophecy for a young professor of +history. + +The last decisive event in Schiller’s life was his friendship with Goethe. +It dates from 1794, and with this year begins the great and crowning +period of Schiller’s life. To this period belong his “Wallenstein,” his +“Song of the Bell,” his Ballads (1797-98), his “Mary Stuart” (1800), the +“Maid of Orleans” (1801), the “Bride of Messina” (1803), and “William +Tell;” in fact, all the works which have made Schiller a national poet and +gained for him a worldwide reputation and an immortal name. + +Goethe’s character was in many respects diametrically opposed to +Schiller’s, and for many years it seemed impossible that there should ever +be a community of thought and feeling between the two. Attempts to bring +together these great rivals were repeatedly made by their mutual friends. +Schiller had long felt himself drawn by the powerful genius of Goethe, and +Goethe had long felt that Schiller was the only poet who could claim to be +his peer. After an early interview with Goethe, Schiller writes, “On the +whole, this meeting has not at all diminished the idea, great as it was, +which I had previously formed of Goethe; but I doubt if we shall ever come +into close communication with each other. Much that interests me has +already had its epoch with him; his world is not my world.” Goethe had +expressed the same feeling. He saw Schiller occupying the very position +which he himself had given up as untenable; he saw his powerful genius +carrying out triumphantly “those very paradoxes, moral and dramatic, from +which he was struggling to get liberated.” “No union,” as Goethe writes, +“was to be dreamt of. Between two spiritual antipodes there was more +intervening than a simple diameter of the spheres. Antipodes of that sort +act as a kind of poles, which can never coalesce.” How the first approach +between these two opposite poles took place Goethe has himself described, +in a paper entitled “Happy Incidents.” But no happy incident could have +led to that glorious friendship, which stands alone in the literary +history of the whole world, if there had not been on the part of Schiller +his warm sympathy for all that is great and noble, and on the part of +Goethe a deep interest in every manifestation of natural genius. Their +differences on almost every point of art, philosophy, and religion, which +at first seemed to separate them forever, only drew them more closely +together, when they discovered in each other those completing elements +which produced true harmony of souls. Nor is it right to say that Schiller +owes more to Goethe than Goethe to Schiller. If Schiller received from +Goethe the higher rules of art and a deeper insight into human nature, +Goethe drank from the soul of his friend the youth and vigor, the purity +and simplicity, which we never find in any of Goethe’s works before his +“Hermann and Dorothea.” And, as in most friendships, it was not so much +Goethe as he was, but Goethe as reflected in his friend’s soul, who +henceforth became Schiller’s guide and guardian. Schiller possessed the +art of admiring, an art so much more rare than the art of criticising. His +eye was so absorbed in all that was great, and noble, and pure, and high +in Goethe’s mind, that he could not, or would not, see the defects in his +character. And Goethe was to Schiller what he was to no one else. He was +what Schiller believed him to be; afraid to fall below his friend’s ideal, +he rose beyond himself until that high ideal was reached, which only a +Schiller could have formed. Without this regenerating friendship it is +doubtful whether some of the most perfect creations of Goethe and Schiller +would ever have been called into existence. + +We saw Schiller gradually sinking into a German professor, the sphere of +his sympathies narrowed, the aim of his ambition lowered. His energies +were absorbed in collecting materials and elaborating his “History of the +Thirty Years’ War,” which was published in 1792. The conception of his +great dramatic Trilogy, the “Wallenstein,” which dates from 1791, was +allowed to languish until it was taken up again for Goethe, and finished +for Goethe in 1799. Goethe knew how to admire and encourage, but he also +knew how to criticise and advise. Schiller, by nature meditative rather +than observant, had been most powerfully attracted by Kant’s ideal +philosophy. Next to his historical researches, most of his time at Jena +was given to metaphysical studies. Not only his mind, but his language +suffered from the attenuating influences of that rarefied atmosphere which +pervades the higher regions of metaphysical thought. His mind was +attracted by the general and the ideal, and lost all interest in the +individual and the real. This was not a right frame of mind, either for an +historian or a dramatic poet. In Goethe, too, the philosophical element +was strong, but it was kept under by the practical tendencies of his mind. +Schiller looked for his ideal beyond the real world; and, like the +pictures of a Raphael, his conceptions seemed to surpass in purity and +harmony all that human eye had ever seen. Goethe had discovered that the +truest ideal lies hidden in real life; and like the master-works of a +Michael Angelo, his poetry reflected that highest beauty which is revealed +in the endless variety of creation, and must there be discovered by the +artist and the poet. In Schiller’s early works every character was the +personification of an idea. In his “Wallenstein” we meet for the first +time with real men and real life. In his “Don Carlos,” Schiller, under +various disguises more or less transparent, acts every part himself. In +“Wallenstein” the heroes of the “Thirty Years’ War” maintain their own +individuality, and are not forced to discuss the social problems of +Rousseau, or the metaphysical theories of Kant. Schiller was himself aware +of this change, though he was hardly conscious of its full bearing. While +engaged in composing his “Wallenstein,” he writes to a friend:— + + + “I do my business very differently from what I used to do. The + subject seems to be so much outside me that I can hardly get up + any feeling for it. The subject I treat leaves me cold and + indifferent, and yet I am full of enthusiasm for my work. With the + exception of two characters to which I feel attached, Max + Piccolomini and Thekla, I treat all the rest, and particularly the + principal character of the play, only with the pure love of the + artist. But I can promise you that they will not suffer from this. + I look to history for limitation, in order to give, through + surrounding circumstances, a stricter form and reality to my + ideals. I feel sure that the historical will not draw me down or + cripple me. I only desire through it to impart life to my + characters and their actions. The life and soul must come from + another source, through that power which I have already perhaps + shown elsewhere, and without which even the first conception of + this work would, of course, have been impossible.” + + +How different is this from what Schiller felt in former years! In writing +“Don Carlos,” he laid down as a principle, that the poet must not be the +painter but the lover of his heroes, and in his early days he found it +intolerable in Shakespeare’s dreams that he could nowhere lay his hand on +the poet himself. He was then, as he himself expresses it, unable to +understand nature, except at second-hand. + +Goethe was Schiller’s friend, but he was also Schiller’s rival. There is a +perilous period in the lives of great men, namely, the time when they +begin to feel that their position is made, that they have no more rivals +to fear. Goethe was feeling this at the time when he met Schiller. He was +satiated with applause, and his bearing towards the public at large became +careless and offensive. In order to find men with whom he might measure +himself, he began to write on the history of Art, and to devote himself to +natural philosophy. Schiller, too, had gained his laurels chiefly as a +dramatic poet; and though he still valued the applause of the public, yet +his ambition as a poet was satisfied; he was prouder of his “Thirty Years’ +War” than of his “Robbers” and “Don Carlos.” When Goethe became intimate +with Schiller, and discovered in him those powers which as yet were hidden +to others, he felt that there was a man with whom even he might run a +race. Goethe was never jealous of Schiller. He felt conscious of his own +great powers, and he was glad to have those powers again called out by one +who would be more difficult to conquer than all his former rivals. +Schiller, on the other hand, perceived in Goethe the true dignity of a +poet. At Jena his ambition was to have the title of Professor of History; +at Weimar he saw that it was a greater honor to be called a poet, and the +friend of Goethe. When he saw that Goethe treated him as his friend, and +that the Duke and his brilliant court looked upon him as his equal, +Schiller, too modest to suppose he had earned such favors, was filled with +a new zeal, and his poetical genius displayed for a time an almost +inexhaustible energy. Scarcely had his “Wallenstein” been finished, in +1799, when he began his “Mary Stuart.” This play was finished in the +summer of 1800, and a new one was taken in hand in the same year,—the +“Maid of Orleans.” In the spring of 1801 the “Maid of Orleans” appeared on +the stage, to be followed in 1803 by the “Bride of Messina,” and in 1804 +by his last great work, his “William Tell.” During the same time Schiller +composed his best ballads, his “Song of the Bell,” his epigrams, and his +beautiful Elegy, not to mention his translations and adaptations of +English and French plays for the theatre at Weimar. After his “William +Tell” Schiller could feel that he no longer owed his place by the side of +Goethe to favor and friendship, but to his own work and worth. His race +was run, his laurels gained. His health, however, was broken, and his +bodily frame too weak to support the strain of his mighty spirit. Death +came to his relief, giving rest to his mind, and immortality to his name. + +Let us look back once more on the life of Schiller. The lives of great men +are the lives of martyrs; we cannot regard them as examples to follow, but +rather as types of human excellence to study and to admire. The life of +Schiller was not one which many of us would envy; it was a life of toil +and suffering, of aspiration rather than of fulfillment, a long battle +with scarcely a moment of rest for the conqueror to enjoy his hard-won +triumphs. To an ambitious man the last ten years of the poet’s life might +seem an ample reward for the thirty years’ war of life which he had to +fight single-handed. But Schiller was too great a man to be ambitious. +Fame with him was a means, never an object. There was a higher, a nobler +aim in his life, which upheld him in all his struggles. From the very +beginning of his career Schiller seems to have felt that his life was not +his. He never lived for himself; he lived and worked for mankind. He +discovered within himself how much there was of the good, the noble, and +the beautiful in human nature; he had never been deceived in his friends. +And such was his sympathy with the world at large that he could not bear +to see in any rank of life the image of man, created in the likeness of +God, distorted by cunning, pride, and selfishness. His whole poetry may be +said to be written on the simple text, “Be true, be good, be noble!” It +may seem a short text, but truth is very short, and the work of the +greatest teachers of mankind has always consisted in the unflinching +inculcation of these short truths. There is in Schiller’s works a kernel +full of immortal growth, which will endure long after the brilliant colors +of his poetry have faded away. That kernel is the man, and without it +Schiller’s poetry, like all other poetry, is but the song of sirens. +Schiller’s character has been subjected to that painful scrutiny to which, +in modern times, the characters of great men are subjected; everything he +ever did, or said, or thought, has been published; and yet it would be +difficult, in the whole course of his life, to point out one act, one +word, one thought, that could be called mean, untrue, or selfish. From the +beginning to the end Schiller remained true to himself; he never acted a +part, he never bargained with the world. We may differ from him on many +points of politics, ethics, and religion; but though we differ, we must +always respect and admire. His life is the best commentary on his poetry; +there is never a discrepancy between the two. As mere critics, we may be +able to admire a poet without admiring the man; but poetry, it should be +remembered, was not meant for critics only, and its highest purpose is +never fulfilled, except where, as with Schiller, we can listen to the poet +and look up to the man. + +1859. + + + + + +V. WILHELM MÜLLER.(13) 1794-1827. + + +Seldom has a poet in a short life of thirty years engraven his name so +deeply on the memorial tablets of the history of German poetry as Wilhelm +Müller. Although the youthful efforts of a poet may be appreciated by +those few who are able to admire what is good and beautiful, even though +it has never before been admired by others, yet in order permanently to +win the ear and heart of his people, a poet must live with the people, and +take part in the movements and struggles of his age. Thus only can he hope +to stir and mould the thoughts of his contemporaries, and to remain a +permanent living power in the recollections of his countrymen. Wilhelm +Müller died at the very moment when the rich blossoms of his poetic genius +were forming fruit; and after he had warmed and quickened the hearts of +the youth of Germany with the lyric songs of his own youth, only a short +span of time was granted him to show the world, as he did more especially +in his “Greek Songs” and “Epigrams,” the higher goal toward which he +aspired. In these his last works one readily perceives that his poetry +would not have reflected the happy dreams of youth only, but that he could +perceive the poetry of life in its sorrows as clearly as in its joys, and +depict it in true and vivid colors. + +One may, I think, divide the friends and admirers of Wilhelm Müller into +two classes: those who rejoice and delight in his fresh and joyous songs, +and those who admire the nobleness and force of his character as shown in +the poems celebrating the war of Greek independence, and in his epigrams. +All poetry is not for every one, nor for every one at all times. There are +critics and historians of literature who cannot tolerate songs of youth, +of love, and of wine; they always ask “why?” and “wherefore?” and they +demand in all poetry, before anything else, high or deep thoughts. No +doubt there can be no poetry without thought, but there are thoughts which +are poetical without being drawn from the deepest depths of the heart and +brain, nay, which are poetical just because they are as simple and true +and natural as the flowers of the field or the stars of heaven. There is a +poetry for the old, but there is also a poetry for the young. The young +demand in poetry an interpretation of their own youthful feelings, and +first learn truly to understand themselves through those poets who speak +for them as they would speak for themselves, had nature endowed them with +melody of thought and harmony of diction. Youth is and will remain the +majority of the world, and will let no gloomy brow rob it of its poetic +enthusiasm for young love and old wine. True, youth is not over-critical; +true, it does not know how to speak or write in learned phrases of the +merits of its favorite poets. But for all that, where is the poet who +would not rather live in the warm recollection of the never-dying youth of +his nation than in voluminous encyclopædias, or even in the marble +Walhallas of Germany? The story and the songs of a miller’s man who loves +his master’s daughter, and of a miller’s daughter who loves a huntsman +better, may seem very trivial, commonplace, and unpoetical to many a man +of forty or fifty. But there are men of forty and fifty who have never +lost sight of the bright but now far-off days of their own youth, who can +still rejoice with those that rejoice, and weep with those that weep, and +love with those that love,—aye, who can still fill their glasses with old +and young, and in whose eyes every-day life has not destroyed the poetic +bloom that rests everywhere on life so long as it is lived with warm and +natural feelings. Songs which, like the “Beautiful Miller’s Daughter” and +the “Winter Journey,” could so penetrate and again spring forth from the +soul of Franz Schubert, may well stir the very depths of our own hearts, +without the need of fearing the wise looks of those who possess the art of +saying nothing in many words. Why should poetry be less free than painting +to seek for what is beautiful wherever a human eye can discover, wherever +human art can imitate it? No one blames the painter if, instead of giddy +peaks or towering waves, he delineates on his canvas a quiet narrow +valley, filled with a green mist, and enlivened only by a gray mill and a +dark brown mill-wheel, from which the spray rises like silver dust, and +then floats away, and vanishes in the rays of the sun. Is what is not too +common for the painter, too common for the poet? Is an idyl in the truest, +warmest, softest colors of the soul, like the “Beautiful Miller’s +Daughter,” less a work of art than a landscape by Ruysdael? And observe in +these songs how the execution suits the subject; their tone is thoroughly +popular, and reminds many of us, perhaps too much, of the popular songs +collected by Arnim and Brentano in “Des Knaben Wunderhorn.” But this could +not be helped. Theocritus could not write his idyls in grand Attic Greek; +he needed the homeliness of the Bœotian dialect. It was the same with +Wilhelm Müller, who must not be blamed for expressions which now perhaps, +more than formerly, may sound, to fastidious ears, too homely or +commonplace. + +His simple and natural conception of nature is shown most beautifully in +the “Wanderer’s Songs,” and in the “Spring Wreath from the Plauen Valley.” +Nowhere do we find a labored thought or a labored word. The lovely spring +world is depicted exactly as it is, but over all is thrown the life and +inspiration of a poet’s eye and a poet’s mind, which perceives and gives +utterance to what others fail to see, and silent nature cannot utter. It +is this recognition of the beautiful in what is insignificant, of +greatness in what is small, of the marvelous in ordinary life,—yes, this +perception of the divine in every earthly enjoyment,—which gives its own +charm to each of Wilhelm Müller’s smallest poems, and endears them so +truly to those who, amidst the hurry of life, have not forgotten the +delight of absorption in nature, who have never lost their faith in the +mystery of the divine presence in all that is beautiful, good, and true on +earth. We need only read the “Frühlingsmahl,” or “Pfingsten” to see how a +whole world, aye, a whole heaven, may be mirrored in the tiniest drop of +dew. + +And as enjoyment of nature finds so clear an echo in the poetry of Wilhelm +Müller, so also does the delight which man should have in man. Drinking +songs and table songs do not belong to the highest flights of poetry; but +if the delights of friendly meetings and greetings belong to some of the +brightest moments of human happiness, why should a poet hold them to be +beneath his muse? There is something especially German in all drinking +songs, and no other nation has held its wine in such honor. Can one +imagine English poems on port and sherry? or has a Frenchman much to tell +us of his Bordeaux, or even of his Burgundy? The reason that the poetry of +wine is unknown in England and France is, that in these countries people +know nothing of what lends its poetry to wine, namely, the joyous +consciousness of mutual pleasure, the outpouring of hearts, the feeling of +common brotherhood, which makes learned professors and divines, generals +and ministers, men once more at the sound of the ringing glasses. This +purely human delight in the enjoyment of life, in the flavor of the German +wine, and in the yet higher flavor of the German Symposium, finds it +happiest expression in the drinking songs of Wilhelm Müller. They have +often been set to music by the best masters, and have long been sung by +the happy and joyous. The name of the poet is often forgotten, whilst many +of his songs have become popular songs, just because they were sung from +the heart and soul of the German people, as the people were fifty years +ago, and as the best of them still are, in spite of many changes in the +Fatherland. + +It is easy to see that a serious tone is not wanting even in the drinking +songs. The wine was good, but the times were bad. Those who, like Wilhelm +Müller, had shared in the great sufferings and the great hopes of the +German people, and who then saw that after all the sacrifices that had +been made, all was in vain, all was again as bad or even worse than +before, could with difficulty conceal their disaffection, however helpless +they felt themselves against the brutalities of those in power. Many, who +like Wilhelm Müller had labored to reanimate German popular feeling; who +like him had left the university to sacrifice as common soldiers their +life and life’s happiness to the freedom of the Fatherland, and who then +saw how the terror felt by the scarcely rescued princes of their +deliverers, and the fear of foreign nations of a united and strong +Germany, joined hand in hand to destroy the precious seed sown in blood +and tears,—could not always suppress their gloomy anger at such +faint-hearted, weak-minded policy. On the first of January, 1820, Wilhelm +Müller wrote thus, in the dedication of the second part of his “Letters +from Rome” to his friend Atterbom, the Swedish poet, with whom he had but +a short time before passed the Carnival time in Italy joyously and +carelessly: “And thus I greet you in your old sacred Fatherland, not +jokingly and merrily, like the book, whose writer seems to have become a +stranger to me, but earnestly and briefly; for the great fast of the +European world, expecting the passion, and waiting for deliverance, can +endure no indifferent shrug of the shoulders and no hollow compromises and +excuses. He who cannot act at this time, can yet rest and mourn.” For such +words, veiled as they were, resigned as they were, the fortress of Mayence +was at that time the usual answer. + +“Deutsch und frei und stark und lauter + In dem deutschen Land +Ist der Wein allein geblieben + An der Rheines Strand. +Ist _der_ nicht ein Demagoge, + Wer soll einer sein? +Mainz, du stolze Bundesfeste, + Sperr ihn nur nicht ein.”(14) + +That Wilhelm Müller escaped the petty and annoying persecutions of the +then police system, he owed partly to the retired life he led in his +little native country, partly to his own good spirits, which prevented him +from entirely sinking the man in the politician. He had some enemies in +the little court, whose Duke and Duchess were personally so attached to +him. A prosperous life such as his could not fail to attract envy, and his +frank, guileless character gave plenty of occasion for suspicion. But the +only answer which he vouchsafed to his detractors was:— + +“Und lasst mir doch mein volles Glass, +Und lasst mir meinen guten Spass, +Mit unsrer schlechten Zeit! +Wer bei dem Weine singt und lacht, +Den thut, ihr Herrn, nicht in die Acht! +Ein Kind ist Fröhligkeit.”(15) + +Wilhelm Müller evidently felt that when words are not deeds, or do not +lead to deeds, silence is more worthy of a man than speech. He never +became a political poet, at least never in his own country. But when the +rising of the Greeks appealed to those human sympathies of Christian +nations which can never be quite extinguished, and when here, too, the +faint-hearted policy of the great powers played and bargained over the +great events in the east of Europe instead of trusting to those principles +which alone can secure the true and lasting well-being of states, as well +as of individuals, then the long accumulated wrath of the poet and of the +man burst forth and found utterance in the songs on the Greek war of +independence. Human, Christian, political, and classical sympathies +stirred his heart, and breathed that life into his poems, which most of +them still possess. It is astonishing how a young man in a small isolated +town like Dessau, almost shut out from intercourse with the great world, +could have followed step by step the events of the Greek revolution, +seizing on all the right, the beauty, the grandeur of the struggle, making +himself intimately acquainted with the dominant characters, whilst he at +the same time mastered the peculiar local coloring of the passing events. +Wilhelm Müller was not only a poet, but he was intimately acquainted with +classic antiquity. He _knew_ the Greeks and the Romans. And just as during +his stay in Rome he recognized at all points the old in what was new, and +everywhere sought to find what was eternal in the eternal city, so now +with him the modern Greeks were inseparably joined with the ancient. A +knowledge of the modern Greek language appeared to him the natural +completion of the study of old Greek; and it was his acquaintance with the +popular songs of modern as well as of ancient Hellas that gave the color +which imparted such a vivid expression of truth and naturalness to his own +Greek songs. It was thus that the “Griechen Lieder” arose, which appeared +in separate but rapid numbers, and found great favor with the people. But +even these “Griechen Lieder” caused anxiety to the paternal governments of +those days:— + +“Ruh und Friede will Europa—warum hast du sie gestört? +Warum mit dem Wahn der Freiheit eigenmächtig dich bethört? +Hoff’ auf keines Herren Hülfe gegen eines Herren Frohn: +Auch des Türkenkaisers Polster nennt Europa einen Thron.”(16) + +His last poems were suppressed by the Censor, as well as his “Hymn on the +Death of Raphael Riego.” Some of these were first published long after his +death; others must have been lost whilst in the Censor’s hands. + +Two of the Greek songs, “Mark Bozzaris,” and “Song before Battle,” may +help the English reader to form his own opinion both of the poetical +genius and of the character of Wilhelm Müller:— + +MARK BOZZARI.(17) + +Oeffne deine hohen Thore, Missolunghi, Stadt der Ehren, +Wo der Helden Leichen ruhen, die uns fröhlich sterben lehren, +Oeffne deine hohen Thore, öffne deine tiefen Grüfte, +Auf, und streue Lorberreiser auf den Pfad und in die Lüfte; +Mark Bozzari’s edlen Leib bringen wir zu dir getragen. +Mark Bozzari’s! Wer darf’s wagen, solchen Helden zu beklagen? +Willst zuerst du seine Wunden oder seine Siege zählen? +Keinem Sieg wird eine Wunde, keiner Wund’ ein Sieg hier fehlen. +Sieh auf unsern Lanzenspitzen sich die Turbanhäupter drehen, +Sieh, wie über seiner Bahre die Osmanenfahnen wehen, +Sieh, o sieh die letzten Werke, die vollbracht des Helden Rechte +In dem Feld von Karpinissi, wo sein Stahl im Blute zechte! +In der schwarzen Geisterstunde rief er unsre Schar zusammen. +Funken sprühten unsre Augen durch die Racht wie Wetterflammen, +Uebers Knie zerbrachen wir jauchzend unsrer Schwerter Scheiden, +Um mit Sensen einzumähen in die feisten Türkenweiden; +Und wir drückten uns die Hände, und wir strichen uns die Bärte, +Und der stampfte mit dem Fusze, und der rieb an seinem Schwerte. +Da erscholl Bozzari’s Stimme: “Auf, ins Lager der Barbaren! +Auf, mir nach! Verirrt euch nicht, Brüder, in der Feinde Scharen! +Sucht ihr mich, im Zelt des Paschas werdet ihr mich sicher finden. +Auf, mit Gott! Er hilft die Feinde, hilft den Tod auch überwinden! +Auf!” Und die Trompete risz er hastig aus des Bläsers Händen +Und stiesz selbst hinein so hell, dasz es von den Felsenwänden +Heller stets und heller muszte sich verdoppelnd widerhallen; +Aber heller widerhallt’ es doch in unsern Herzen allen. +Wie des Herren Blitz und Donner aus der Wolkenburg der Nächte, +Also traf das Schwert der Freien die Tyrannen und die Knechte; +Wie die Tuba des Gerichtes wird dereinst die Sünder wecken, +Also scholl durchs Türkenlager brausend dieser Ruf der Schrecken: +“Mark Bozzari! Mark Bozzari! Sulioten! Sulioten!” +Solch ein guter Morgengrusz ward den Schläfern da entboten. +Und sie rüttelten sich auf, und gleich hirtenlosen Schafen +Rannten sie durch alle Gassen, bis sie aneinander trafen +Und, bethört von Todesengeln, die durch ihre Schwärme gingen, +Brüder sich in blinder Wuth stürzten in der Brüder Klingen. +Frag’ die Nacht nach unsern Thaten; sie hat uns im Kampf gesehen— +Aber wird der Tag es glauben, was in dieser Nacht geschehen? +Hundert Griechen, tausend Türken: also war die Saat zu schauen +Auf dem Feld von Karpinissi, als das Licht begann zu grauen. +Mark Bozzari, Mark Bozzari, und dich haben wir gefunden— +Kenntlich nur an deinem Schwerte, kenntlich nur an deinen Wunden, +An den Wunden, die du schlugest, und an denen, die dich trafen— +Wie du es verheiszen hattest, in dem Zelt des Paschas schlafen. + +Oeffne deine hohen Thore, Missolunghi, Stadt der Ehren, +Wo der Helden Leichen ruhen, die uns fröhlich sterben lehren, +Oeffne deine tiefen Grüfte, dasz wir in den heil’gen Stätten +Neben Helden unsern Helden zu dem langen Schlafe betten!— +Schlafe bei dem deutschen Grafen, Grafen Normann, Fels der Ehren, +Bis die Stimmen des Gerichtes alle Gräber werden leeren. + +MARK BOZZARIS. + +Open wide, proud Missolonghi, open wide thy portals high, +Where repose the bones of heroes, teach us cheerfully to die! +Open wide thy lofty portals, open wide thy vaults profound; +Up, and scatter laurel garlands to the breeze and on the ground! +Mark Bozzaris’ noble body is the freight to thee we bear,— +Mark Bozzaris’! Who for hero great as he to weep will dare? +Tell his wounds, his victories over! Which in number greatest be? +Every victory has its wound, and every wound its victory! +See, a turbaned head is grimly set on all our lances here! +See, how the Osmanli’s banner swathes in purple folds his bier! +See, O see the latest trophies, which our hero’s glory sealed, +When his glaive with gore was drunken on great Karpinissi’s field! +In the murkiest hour of midnight did we at his call arise; +Through the gloom like lightning-flashes flashed the fury from our eyes; +With a shout, across our knees we snapped the scabbards of our swords, +Better down to mow the harvest of the mellow Turkish hordes; +And we clasped our hands together, and each warrior stroked his beard, +And one stamped the sward, another rubbed his blade, and vowed its wierd. +Then Bozzaris’ voice resounded: “On, to the barbarian’s lair! +On, and follow me, my brothers, see you keep together there! +Should you miss me, you will find me surely in the Pasha’s tent! +On, with God! Through Him our foemen, death itself through Him is shent! +On!” And swift he snatched the bugle from the hands of him that blew, +And himself awoke a summons that o’er dale and mountain flew, +Till each rock and cliff made answer clear and clearer to the call, +But a clearer echo sounded in the bosom of us all! +As from midnight’s battlemented keep the lightnings of the Lord +Sweep, so swept our swords, and smote the tyrants and their slavish horde; +As the trump of doom shall waken sinners in their graves that lie, +So through all the Turkish leaguer thundered his appalling cry: +“Mark Bozzaris! Mark Bozzaris! Suliotes, smite them in their lair!” +Such the goodly morning greeting that we gave the sleepers there. +And they staggered from their slumber, and they ran from street to street, +Ran like sheep without a shepherd, striking wild at all they meet; +Ran, and frenzied by Death’s angels, who amidst their myriads strayed, +Brother, in bewildered fury, dashed and fell on brother’s blade. +Ask the night of our achievements! It beheld us in the fight, +But the day will never credit what we did in yonder night. +Greeks by hundreds, Turks by thousands, there like scattered seed they + lay, +On the field of Karpinissi, when the morning broke in gray. +Mark Bozarris, Mark Bozarris, and we found thee gashed and mown +By thy sword alone we knew thee, knew thee by thy wounds alone; +By the wounds thy hand had cloven, by the wounds that seamed thy breast, +Lying, as thou hadst foretold us, in the Pasha’s tent at rest! + +Open wide, proud Missolonghi, open wide thy portals high, +Where repose the bones of heroes, teach us cheerfully to die! +Open wide thy vaults! Within their holy bounds a couch we’d make, +Where our hero, laid with heroes, may his last long slumber take! +Rest beside that Rock of Honor, brave Count Normann, rest thy head, +Till, at the archangel’s trumpet, all the graves give up their dead! + +LIED VOR DER SCHLACHT. + +Wer für die Freiheit kampft und fällt, desz Ruhm wird blühend stehn, +Solange frei die Winde noch durch freie Lüfte wehn, +Solange frei der Bäume Laub noch rauscht im grünen Wald, +Solang’ des Stromes Woge noch frei nach dem Meere wallt, +Solang’ des Adlers Fittich frei noch durch die Wolken fleugt, +Solang’ ein freier Odem noch aus freiem Herzen steigt. + +Wer für die Freiheit kämpft und fällt, desz Ruhm wird blühend stehn, +Solange freie Geister noch durch Erd’ und Himmel gehn. +Durch Erd’ und Himmel schwebt er noch, der Helden Schattenreihn, +Und rauscht um uns in stiller Nacht, in hellem Sonnenschein, +Im Sturm, der stolze Tannen bricht, und in dem Lüftchen auch, +Das durch das Gras auf Gräbern spielt mit seinem leisen Hauch, +In ferner Enkel Hause noch um alle Wiegen kreist +Auf Hellas’ heldenreicher Flur der freien Ahnen Geist; +Der haucht in Wunderträumen schon den zarten Säugling an +Und weiht in seinem ersten Schlaf das Kind zu einem Mann; +Den Jüngling lockt sein Ruf hinaus mit nie gefühlter Lust +Zur Stätte, wo ein Freier fiel; da greift er in die Brust +Dem Zitternden, und Schauer ziehn ihm durch das tiefe Herz, +Er weisz nicht, ob es Wonne sei, ob es der erste Schmerz. +Herab, du heil’ge Geisterschar, schwell’ unsre Fahnen auf, +Beflügle unsrer Herzen Schlag und unsrer Füse Lauf; +Wir ziehen nach der Freiheit aus, die Waffen in der Hand, +Wir ziehen aus auf Kampf und Tod für Gott, fürs Vaterland! +Ihr seid mit uns, ihr rauscht um uns, eu’r Geisterodem zieht +Mit zauberischen Tönen hin durch unser Jubellied; +Ihr seid mit uns, ihr schwebt daher, ihr aus Thermopylä, +Ihr aus dem grünen Marathon, ihr von der blauen See, +Am Wolkenfelsen Mykale, am Salaminerstrand, +Ihr all’ aus Wald, Feld, Berg und Thal im weiten Griechenland! + +Wer für die Freiheit kampft und fällt, desz Ruhm wird blühend stehn, +Solange frei die Winde noch durch freie Lüfte wehn, +Solange frei der Bäume Laub noch rauscht im grünen Wald, +Solang’ des Stromes Woge noch frei nach dem Meere wallt, +Solang’ des Adlers Fittich frei noch durch die Wolken fleugt, +Solang’ ein freier Odem noch aus freiem Herzen steigt. + +SONG BEFORE BATTLE. + +Whoe’er for freedom fights and falls, his fame no blight shall know, +As long as through heaven’s free expanse the breezes freely blow, +As long as in the forest wild the green leaves flutter free, +As long as rivers, mountain-born, roll freely to the sea, +As long as free the eagle’s wing exulting cleaves the skies, +As long as from a freeman’s heart a freeman’s breath doth rise. + +Whoe’er for freedom fights and falls, his fame no blight shall know, +As long as spirits of the free through earth and air shall go; +Through earth and air a spirit-band of heroes moves always, +’Tis near us at the dead of night, and in the noontide’s blaze, +In the storm that levels towering pines, and in the breeze that waves +With low and gentle breath the grass upon our fathers’ graves. +There’s not a cradle in the bounds of Hellas broad and fair, +But the spirit of our free-born sires is surely hovering there. +It breathes in dreams of fairy-land upon the infant’s brain, +And in his first sleep dedicates the child to manhood’s pain; +Its summons lures the youth to stand, with new-born joy possessed, +Where once a freeman fell, and there it fires his thrilling breast, +And a shudder runs through all his frame; he knows not if it be +A throb of rapture, or the first sharp pang of agony. +Come, swell our banners on the breeze, thou sacred spirit-band, +Give wings to every warrior’s foot, and nerve to every hand. +We go to strike for freedom, to break the oppressor’s rod, +We go to battle and to death for our country and our God. +Ye are with us, we hear your wings, we hear in magic tone +Your spirit-voice the pæan swell, and mingle with our own. +Ye are with us, ye throng around,—you from Thermopylæ, +You from the verdant Marathon, you from the azure sea, +By the cloud-capped rocks of Mykale, at Salamis,—all you +From field and forest, mount and glen, the land of Hellas through! + +Whoe’er for freedom fights and falls, his fame no blight shall know, +As long as through heaven’s free expanse the breezes freely blow, +As long as in the forest wild the green leaves flutter free, +As long as rivers, mountain-born, roll freely to the sea, +As long as free the eagle’s wing exulting cleaves the skies, +As long as from a freeman’s heart a freeman’s breath doth rise. + +When we remember all that was compressed into this short life, we might +well believe that this ceaseless acquiring and creating must have tired +and weakened and injured both body and mind. Such, however, was not the +case. All who knew the poet agree in stating that he never overworked +himself, and that he accomplished all he did with the most perfect ease +and enjoyment. Let us only remember how his life as a student was broken +into by his service during the war, how his journey to Italy occupied +several years of his life, how later in Dessau he had to follow his +profession as teacher and librarian, and then let us turn our thoughts to +all the work of his hands and the creations of his mind, and we are +astonished, not only at the amount of work done, but still more at the +finished form which distinguishes all his works. He was one of the first +who with Zeune, Von der Hagen, and the brothers Grimm, labored to reawaken +an interest in ancient and mediæval German literature. He was a favorite +pupil of Wolf, and his “Homerische Vorschule” did more than any other work +at that time to propagate the ideas of Wolf. He had explored the modern +languages of Europe,—French, Italian, English, and Spanish; and his +critiques in all these fields of literature show how intimately acquainted +he was with the best authors of these nations. Besides all this, he worked +regularly for journals and encyclopædias, and was engaged co-editor of the +great “Encyclopædia of Arts and Sciences,” by Ersch and Gruber. He also +undertook the publication of a “Library of the German Poets of the +Seventeenth Century,” and all this, without mentioning his poems and +novels, in the short space of a life of thirty-three years. + +I almost forget that I am speaking of my father; for indeed I hardly knew +him, and when his scientific and poetic activity reached its end, he was +far younger than I am now. I do not believe, however, that a natural +affection and veneration for the poet deprives us of the right of judging. +It is well said that love is blind, but love also strengthens and sharpens +the dull eye, so that it sees beauty where thousands pass by unmoved. If +one reads most of our critical writings, it would almost appear as if the +chief duty of the reviewer were to find out the weak points and faults of +every work of art. Nothing has so injured the art of criticism as this +prejudice. A critic is a judge; but a judge, though he is no advocate, +should also be no prosecutor. The weak points of any work of art betray +themselves only too soon; but in order to discover its beauties, not only +a sharp, but an experienced eye is needed; and love and sympathy are +necessary above anything else. It is the heart that makes the critic, not +the nose. It is well known how many of the most beautiful spots in +Scotland, and Wales, and Cornwall, were not many years ago described as +wastes and wildernesses. Richmond and Hampton Court were admired, people +travelled also to Versailles, and admired the often admired blue sky of +Italy. But poets such as Walter Scott and Wordsworth discovered the +beauties of their native land. Where others had only lamented over bare +and wearisome hills, they saw the battle-fields and burial-places of the +primeval Titan struggles of nature. Where others saw nothing but barren +moors full of heather and broom, the land in their eyes was covered as +with a carpet softer and more variegated than the most precious loom of +Turkey. Where others lost their temper at the gray cold fog, they marveled +at the silver veil of the bride of the morning, and the gold illumination +of the departing sun. Now every cockney can admire the smallest lake in +Westmoreland or the barest moor in the Highlands. Why is this? Because few +eyes are so dull that they cannot see what is beautiful after it has been +pointed out to them, and when they know that they need not feel ashamed of +admiring it. It is the same with the beauties of poetry, as with the +beauties of nature. We must first discover what is beautiful in poetry, +and, when it is discovered, communicate it; otherwise the authors of +Scotch ballads are but strolling singers, and the Niebelungen songs are, +as Frederick the Great said, not worth powder and shot. The trade of +fault-finding is quickly learnt; the art of admiration is a difficult art, +at least for little minds, narrow hearts, and timid souls, who prefer +treading broad and safe paths. Thus many critics and literary historians +have rushed by the poems of Wilhelm Müller, just like travellers, who go +on in the beaten track, passing by on the right hand and on the left the +most beautiful scenes of nature, and who only stand still and open both +eyes and mouth when their “Murray” tells them there is something they +ought to admire. Should an old man who is at home here meet them on their +way, and counsel the travellers to turn for a moment from the high road in +order to accompany him through a shady path to a mill, many may feel at +first full of uneasiness and distrust. But when they have refreshed +themselves in the dark green valley with its lively mill stream and +delicious wood fragrance, they no longer blame their guide for having +called somewhat loudly to them to pause in their journey. It is such a +pause that I have tried in these few introductory lines to enforce on the +reader, and I believe that I too may reckon on pardon, if not on thanks, +from those who have followed my sudden call. + +1858 + + + + + +VI. ON THE LANGUAGE AND POETRY OF SCHLESWIG-HOLSTEIN. + + +After all that has been written about the Schleswig-Holstein question, how +little is known about those whom that question chiefly concerns,—the +Schleswig-Holsteiners! There may be a vague recollection that, during the +general turmoil of 1848, the German inhabitants of the Duchies rose +against the Danes; that they fought bravely, and at last succumbed, not to +the valor, but to the diplomacy of Denmark. But, after the treaty of +London in 1852 had disposed of them as the treaty of Vienna had disposed +of other brave people, they sank below the horizon of European interests, +never to rise again, it was fondly hoped, till the present generation had +passed away. + +Yet these Schleswig-Holsteiners have an interest of their own, quite apart +from the political clouds that have lately gathered round their country. +Ever since we know anything of the history of Northern Europe, we find +Saxon races established as the inhabitants of that northern peninsula +which was then called the _Cimbric Chersonese_. The first writer who ever +mentions the name of Saxons is Ptolemy,(18) and he speaks of them as +settled in what is now called Schleswig-Holstein.(19) At the time of +Charlemagne the Saxon race is described to us as consisting of three +tribes: the _Ostfalai_, _Westfalai_, and _Angrarii_. The _Westphalians_ +were settled near the Rhine, the _Eastphalians_ near the Elbe, and the +intermediate country, washed by the Weser, was held by the _Angrarii_.(20) +The name of Westphalia is still in existence; that of Eastphalia has +disappeared, but its memory survives in the English _sterling_. +Eastphalian traders, the ancestors of the merchant princes of Hamburg, +were known in England by the name of _Easterlings_; and their money being +of the purest quality, _easterling_, in Latin esterlingus, shortened to +_sterling_, became the general name of pure or sterling money. The name of +the third tribe, the _Angrarii_, continued through the Middle Ages as the +name of a people; and to the present day, my own sovereign, the Duke of +Anhalt, calls himself Duke of “_Sachsen_, _Engern_, und _Westphalen_.” But +the name of the Angrarii was meant to fulfill another and more glorious +destiny. The name _Angrarii_ or _Angarii_(21) is a corruption of the older +name, _Angrivarii_, the famous German race mentioned by Tacitus as the +neighbors of the _Cherusci_. These _Angrivarii_ are in later documents +called _Anglevarii_. The termination _varii_(22) represents the same word +which exists in A.-S. as _ware_; for instance, in _Cant-ware_, inhabitants +of Kent, or _Cant-ware-burh_, Canterbury; _burh-ware_, inhabitants of a +town, burghers. It is derived from _werian_, to defend, to hold, and may +be connected with _wer_, a man. The same termination is found in +_Ansivarii_ or _Ampsivarii_; probably also in _Teutonoarii_ instead of +_Teutoni_, _Chattuari_ instead of _Chatti_. + +The principal seats of these _Angrarii_ were, as we saw, between the Rhine +and Elbe, but Tacitus(23) knows of _Anglii_, _i.e._ _Angrii_, east of the +Elbe; and an offshoot of the same Saxon tribe is found very early in +possession of that famous peninsula between the Schlei and the Bay of +Flensburg on the eastern coast of Schleswig,(24) which by Latin writers +was called _Anglia_, _i.e._ _Angria_. To derive the name of _Anglia_ from +the Latin _angulus_,(25) corner, is about as good an etymology as the +kind-hearted remark of St. Gregory, who interpreted the name of _Angli_ by +_angeli_. From that Anglia, the _Angli_, together with the _Saxons_ and +_Juts_, migrated to the British Isles in the fifth century, and the name +of the _Angli_, as that of the most numerous tribe, became in time the +name of _Englaland_.(26) In the Latin laws ascribed to King Edward the +Confessor, a curious supplement is found, which states “that the _Juts_ +(_Guti_) came formerly from the noble blood of the _Angli_, namely, from +the state of _Engra_, and that the English came from the same blood. The +Juts, therefore like the Angli of Germany, should always be received in +England as brothers, and as citizens of the realm, because the Angli of +England and Germany had always intermarried, and had fought together +against the Danes.”(27) + +Like the Angli of Anglia, the principal tribes clustering round the base +of the Cimbric peninsula, and known by the general name of _Northalbingi_ +or _Transalbiani_, also _Nordleudi_, were all offshoots of the Saxon stem. +Adam of Bremen (2, 15) divides them into _Tedmarsgoi_, _Holcetae_, and +_Sturmarii_. In these it is easy to recognize the modern names of +_Dithmarschen_, _Holtseten_ or _Holsten_, and _Stormarn_. It would require +more space than we can afford, were we to enter into the arguments by +which Grimm has endeavored to identify the _Dithmarschen_ with the +_Teutoni_, the _Stormarn_ with the _Cimbri_, and the _Holsten_ with the +_Harudes_. His arguments, if not convincing, are at least highly +ingenious, and may be examined by those interested in these matters, in +his “History of the German Language,” pp. 633-640. + +For many centuries the Saxon inhabitants of those regions have had to bear +the brunt of the battle between the Scandinavian and the German races. +From the days when the German Emperor Otho I. (died 973) hurled his swift +spear from the northernmost promontory of Jutland into the German Ocean to +mark the true frontier of his empire, to the day when Christian IX. put +his unwilling pen to that Danish constitution which was to incorporate all +the country north of the Eider with Denmark, they have had to share in all +the triumphs and all the humiliations of the German race, to which they +are linked by the strong ties of a common blood and a common language. + +Such constant trials and vicissitudes have told on the character of these +German borderers, and have made them what they are, a hardy and +determined, yet careful and cautious race. Their constant watchings and +struggles against the slow encroachments or sudden inroads of an enemy +more inveterate even than the Danes,—namely, the sea,—had imparted to them +from the earliest times somewhat of that wariness and perseverance which +we perceive in the national character of the Dutch and the Venetians. But +the fresh breezes of the German Ocean and the Baltic kept their nerves +well braced and their hearts buoyant; and for muscular development the +arms of these sturdy ploughers of the sea and the land can vie with those +of any of their neighbors on the isles or on the Continent. +_Holsten-treue_, _i.e._ Holstein-truth, is proverbial throughout Germany, +and it has stood the test of long and fearful trials. + +There is but one way of gaining an insight into the real character of a +people, unless we can actually live among them for years; and that is to +examine their language and literature. Now it is true that the language +spoken in Schleswig-Holstein is not German,—at least not in the ordinary +sense of the word,—and one may well understand how travellers and +correspondents of newspapers, who have picked up their German phrases from +Ollendorf, and who, on the strength of this, try to enter into a +conversation with Holstein peasants, should arrive at the conclusion that +these peasants speak Danish, or, at all events, that they do not speak +German. + +The Germans of Schleswig-Holstein are Saxons, and all true Saxons speak +Low-German, and Low-German is more different from High-German than English +is from Lowland Scotch. Low-German, however, is not to be mistaken for +vulgar German. It is the German which from time immemorial was spoken in +the low countries and along the northern sea-coast of Germany, as opposed +to the German of the high country, of Swabia, Thuringia, Bavaria, and +Austria. These two dialects differ from each other like Doric and Ionic; +neither can be considered as a corruption of the other; and however far +back we trace these two branches of living speech, we never arrive at a +point when they diverge from one common source. The Gothic of the fourth +century, preserved in the translation of the Bible by Ulfilas, is not, as +has been so often said, the mother both of High and Low German. It is to +all intents and purposes Low-German, only Low-German in its most primitive +form, and more primitive therefore in its grammatical framework than the +earliest specimens of High-German also, which date only from the seventh +or eighth century. This Gothic, which was spoken in the east of Germany, +has become extinct. The Saxon, spoken in the north of Germany, continues +its manifold existence to the present day in the Low-German dialects, in +Frisian, in Dutch, and in English. The rest of Germany was and is occupied +by High-German. In the West the ancient High-German dialect of the Franks +has been absorbed in French, while the German spoken from the earliest +times in the centre and south of Germany has supplied the basis of what is +now called the literary and classical language of Germany. + +Although the literature of Germany is chiefly High-German, there are a few +literary compositions, both ancient and modern, in the different spoken +dialects of the country, sufficient to enable scholars to distinguish at +least nine distinct grammatical settlements; in the Low-German branch, +_Gothic_, _Saxon_, _Anglo-Saxon_, _Frisian_, and _Dutch_; in the +High-German branch, _Thuringian_, _Frankish_, _Bavarian_, and +_Alemannish_. Professor Weinhold is engaged at present in publishing +separate grammars of six of these dialects, namely, of _Alemannish_, +_Bavarian_, _Frankish_, _Thuringian_, _Saxon_, and _Frisian_: and in his +great German Grammar Jacob Grimm has been able to treat these, together +with the Scandinavian tongues, as so many varieties of one common, +primitive type of Teutonic speech. + +But although, in the early days of German life, the Low and High German +dialects were on terms of perfect equality, Low-German has fallen back in +the race, while High-German has pressed forward with double speed. +High-German has become the language of literature and good society. It is +taught in schools, preached in church, pleaded at the bar; and, even in +places where ordinary conversation is still carried on in Low-German, +High-German is clearly intended to be the language of the future. At the +time of Charlemagne this was not so; and one of the earliest literary +monuments of the German language, the “Heliand,” _i.e._ the Saviour, is +written in Saxon or Low-German. The Saxon Emperors, however, did little +for German literature, while the Swabian Emperors were proud of being the +patrons of art and poetry. The language spoken at their court being +High-German, the ascendency of that dialect may be said to date from their +days, though it was not secured till the time of the Reformation, when the +translation of the Bible by Luther put a firm and lasting stamp on what +has since become the literary speech of Germany. + +But language, even though deprived of literary cultivation, does not +easily die. Though at present people write the same language all over +Germany, the towns and villages teem everywhere with dialects, both High +and Low. In Hanover, Brunswick, Mecklenburg, Oldenburg, the Free Towns, +and in Schleswig-Holstein, the lower orders speak their own German, +generally called _Platt-Deutsch_, and in many parts of Mecklenburg, +Oldenburg, Ostfriesland, and Holstein, the higher ranks too cling in their +every-day conversation to this more homely dialect.(28) Children +frequently speak two languages: High-German at school, Low-German at their +games. The clergyman speaks High-German when he stands in the pulpit; but +when he visits the poor, he must address them in their own peculiar +_Platt_. The lawyer pleads in the language of Schiller and Goethe; but +when he examines his witnesses he has frequently to condescend to the +vulgar tongue. That vulgar tongue is constantly receding from the towns; +it is frightened away by railways, it is ashamed to show itself in +parliament. But it is loved all the more by the people; it appeals to +their hearts, and it comes back naturally to all who have ever talked it +together in their youth. It is the same with the local patois of +High-German. Even where at school the correct High-German is taught and +spoken, as in Bavaria and Austria, each town still keeps its own patois, +and the people fall back on it as soon as they are among themselves. When +Maria Theresa went to the Burgtheater to announce to the people of Vienna +the birth of a son and heir, she did not address them in high-flown +literary German. She bent forward from her box, and called out: “_Hörts! +der Leopold hot án Buebá_”: “Hear! Leopold has a boy.” In German comedies, +characters from Berlin, Leipzig, and Vienna are constantly introduced +speaking their own local dialects. In Bavaria, Styria, and the Tyrol, much +of the poetry of the people is written in their patois; and in some parts +of Germany sermons even, and other religious tracts, continue to be +published in the local vernaculars. + +There are here and there a few enthusiastic champions of dialects, +particularly of Low-German, who still cherish a hope that High-German may +be thrown back, and Low-German restored to its rights and former dominion. +Yet, whatever may be thought of the relative excellences of High and Low +German,—and in several points, no doubt, Low-German has the advantage of +High-German,—yet, practically, the battle between the two is decided, and +cannot now be renewed. The national language of Germany, whether in the +South or the North, will always be the German of Luther, Lessing, +Schiller, and Goethe. This, however, is no reason why the dialects, +whether of Low or High German, should be despised or banished. Dialects +are everywhere the natural feeders of literary languages; and an attempt +to destroy them, if it could succeed, would be like shutting up the +tributaries of great rivers. + +After these remarks it will be clear that, if people say that the +inhabitants of Schleswig-Holstein do not speak German, there is some truth +in such a statement, at least just enough of truth to conceal the truth. +It might be said, with equal correctness, that the people of Lancashire do +not speak English. But, if from this a conclusion is to be drawn that the +Schleswig-Holsteiners, speaking this dialect, which is neither German nor +Danish, might as well be taught in Danish as in German, this is not quite +correct, and would deceive few if it were adduced as an argument for +introducing French instead of English in the national schools of +Lancashire. + +The Schleswig-Holsteiners have their own dialect, and cling to it as they +cling to many things which, in other parts of Germany, have been discarded +as old-fashioned and useless. “_Oll Knust hölt Hus_,”—“Stale bread lasts +longest,”—is one of their proverbs. But they read their Bible in +High-German; they write their newspapers in High-German, and it is in +High-German that their children are taught, and their sermons preached in +every town and in every village. It is but lately that Low-German has been +taken up again by Schleswig-Holstein poets; and some of their poems, +though intended originally for their own people only, have been read with +delight, even by those who had to spell them out with the help of a +dictionary and a grammar. This kind of homespun poetry is a sign of +healthy national life. Like the songs of Burns in Scotland, the poems of +Klaus Groth and others reveal to us, more than anything else, the real +thoughts and feelings, the every-day cares and occupations, of the people +whom they represent, and to whose approval alone they appeal. But as +Scotland, proud though she well may be of her Burns, has produced some of +the best writers of English, Schleswig-Holstein, too, small as it is in +comparison with Scotland, counts among its sons some illustrious names in +German literature. Niebuhr, the great traveller, and Niebuhr, the great +historian, were both Schleswig-Holsteiners, though during their lifetime +that name had not yet assumed the political meaning in which it is now +used. Karsten Niebuhr, the traveller, was a Hanoverian by birth; but, +having early entered the Danish service, he was attached to a scientific +mission sent by King Frederick V. to Egypt, Arabia, and Palestine, in +1760. All the other members of that mission having died, it was left to +Niebuhr, after his return in 1767, to publish the results of his own +observations and of those of his companions. His “Description of Arabia,” +and his “Travels in Arabia and the Adjoining Countries,” though published +nearly a hundred years ago, are still quoted with respect, and their +accuracy has hardly ever been challenged. Niebuhr spent the rest of his +life as a kind of collector and magistrate at Meldorf, a small town of +between two and three thousand inhabitants, in Dithmarschen. He is +described as a square and powerful man, who lived to a good old age, and +who, even when he had lost his eyesight, used to delight his family and a +large circle of friends by telling them of the adventures in his Oriental +travels, of the starry nights of the desert, and of the bright moonlight +of Egypt, where, riding on his camel, he could, from his saddle, recognize +every plant that was growing on the ground. Nor were the listeners that +gathered round him unworthy of the old traveller. Like many a small German +town, Meldorf, the home of Niebuhr, had a society consisting of a few +government officials, clergymen, and masters at the public school; most of +them men of cultivated mind, and quite capable of appreciating a man of +Niebuhr’s powers. Even the peasants there were not the mere clods of other +parts of Germany. They were a well-to-do race, and by no means illiterate. +Their sons received at the Gymnasium of Meldorf a classical education, and +they were able to mix with ease and freedom in the society of their +betters. The most hospitable house at Meldorf was that of Boie, the High +Sheriff of Dithmarschen. He had formerly, at Göttingen, been the life and +soul of a circle of friends who have become famous in the history of +German literature, under the name of “Hainbund.” That “Hainbund,” or +Grove-club, included Bürger, the author of “Lenore;” Voss, the translator +of Homer; the Counts Stolberg, Hölty, and others. With Goethe, too, Boie +had been on terms of intimacy, and when, in after life, he settled down at +Meldorf, many of his old friends, his brother-in-law Voss, Count Stolberg, +Claudius, and others, came to see him and his illustrious townsman, +Niebuhr. Many a seed was sown there, many small germs began to ripen in +that remote town of Meldorf, which are yielding fruit at the present day, +not in Germany only, but here in England. The sons of Boie, fired by the +descriptions of the old, blind traveller, followed his example, and became +distinguished as explorers and discoverers in natural history. Niebuhr’s +son, young Barthold, soon attracted the attention of all who came to see +his father, particularly of Voss; and he was enabled by their help and +advice, to lay, in early youth, that foundation of solid learning which +fitted him, in the intervals of his checkered life, to become the founder +of a new era in the study of Ancient History. And how curious the threads +which bind together the destinies of men! how marvelous the rays of light +which, emanating from the most distant centres, cross each other in their +onward course, and give their own peculiar coloring to characters +apparently original and independent! We have read, of late, in the +Confessions of a modern St. Augustine, how the last stroke that severed +his connection with the Church of England was the establishment of the +Jerusalem bishopric. But for that event, Dr. Newman might now be a bishop, +and his friends a strong party in the Church of England. Well, that +Jerusalem bishopric owes something to Meldorf. The young schoolboy of +Meldorf was afterwards the private tutor and personal friend of the +Crown-Prince of Prussia, and he thus exercised an influence both on the +political and the religious views of King Frederick William IV. He was +likewise Prussian Ambassador at Rome, when Bunsen was there as a young +scholar, full of schemes, and planning his own journey to the East. +Niebuhr became the friend and patron of Bunsen, and Bunsen became his +successor in the Prussian embassy at Rome. It is well known that the +Jerusalem bishopric was a long-cherished plan of the King of Prussia, +Niebuhr’s pupil, and that the bill for the establishment of a Protestant +bishopric at Jerusalem was carried chiefly through the personal influence +of Bunsen, the friend of Niebuhr. Thus we see how all things are working +together for good or for evil, though we little know of the grains of dust +that are carried along from all quarters of the globe, to tell like +infinitesimal weights in the scales that decide hereafter the judgment of +individuals and the fate of nations. + +If Holstein, and more particularly Dithmarschen, of which Meldorf had in +former days been the capital, may claim some share in Niebuhr the +historian,—if he himself, as the readers of his history are well aware, is +fond of explaining the social and political institutions of Rome by +references to what he had seen or heard of the little republic of +Dithmarschen,—it is certainly a curious coincidence that the only worthy +successor of Niebuhr, in the field of Roman history, Theodore Mommsen, is +likewise a native of Schleswig. His History of Rome, though it did not +produce so complete a revolution as the work of Niebuhr, stands higher as +a work of art. It contains the results of Niebuhr’s critical researches, +sifted and carried on by a most careful and thoughtful disciple. It is, in +many respects, a most remarkable work, particularly in Germany. The fact +that it is readable, and has become a popular book, has excited the wrath +of many critics, who evidently consider it beneath the dignity of a +learned professor that he should digest his knowledge, and give to the +world, not all and everything he has accumulated in his note-books, but +only what he considers really important and worth knowing. The fact, +again, that he does not load his pages with references and learned notes +has been treated like a _crimen lœsæ majestatis;_ and yet, with all the +clamor and clatter that has been raised, few authors have had so little to +alter or rectify in their later editions as Mommsen. To have produced two +such scholars, historians, and statesmen as Niebuhr and Mommsen, would be +an honor to any kingdom in Germany: how much more to the small duchy of +Schleswig-Holstein, in which we have been told so often that nothing is +spoken but Danish and some vulgar dialects of Low-German! + +Well, even those vulgar dialects of Low-German, and the poems and novels +that have been written in them by true Schleswig-Holsteiners, are well +worth a moment’s consideration. In looking at their language, an +Englishman at once discovers a number of old acquaintances: words which we +would look for in vain in Schiller or Goethe. We shall mention a few. + +_Black_ means black; in High-German it would be _schwarz_. _De black_ is +the black horse; _black up wit_ is black on white; _gif mek kil un blak_, +give me quill and ink. _Blid_ is _blithe_, instead of the High-German +_mild_. _Bottervogel_, or _botterhahn_, or _botterhex, is __butterfly__, +instead of __schmetterling__. It is a common superstition in_ the North of +Germany, that one ought to mark the first butterfly one sees in spring. A +white one betokens mourning, a yellow one a christening, a variegated one +a wedding. _Bregen_ or _brehm_ is used instead of the High-German +_gehirn_; it is the English _brain_. People say of a very foolish person, +that his brain is frozen, _de brehm is em verfrorn_. The peculiar English +but, which has given so much trouble to grammarians and etymologists, +exists in the Holstein _buten_, literally outside, the Dutch _buiten_, the +Old-Saxon _bi-ûtan_. _Buten_ in German is a regular contraction, just as +_binnen_, which means inside, within, during. _Heben_ is the English +heaven, while the common German name is _Himmel_. _Hückup_ is a sigh, and +no doubt the English _hiccough_. _Düsig_ is dizzy; _talkig_ is talkative. + +There are some curious words which, though they have a Low-German look, +are not to be found in English or Anglo-Saxon. Thus _plitsch_, which is +used in Holstein in the sense of clever, turns out to be a corruption of +_politisch_, _i.e._ political. _Krüdsch_ means particular or over nice; it +is a corruption of _kritisch_, critical. _Katolsch_ means angry, mad, and +is a corruption of _catholic_, _i.e._ Roman Catholic. _Kränsch_ means +plucky, and stands for _courageux_. _Fränksch_, _i.e._ Frankish, means +strange; _Flämsch_, _i.e._ Flemish, means sulky, and is used to form +superlatives; _Polsch_, _i.e._ Polish, means wild. _Forsch_ means strong +and strength, and comes from the French _force_. _Klür_ is a corruption of +_couleur_, and _Kunkelfusen_ stands for confusion or fibs. + +Some idiomatic and proverbial expressions, too, deserve to be noted. +Instead of saying, “The sun has set,” the Holsteiners, fond as they are of +their beer, particularly in the evening after a hard day’s work, say, “_De +Sünn geiht to Beer_,” “The sun goes to beer.” If you ask in the country +how far it is to some town or village, a peasant will answer, “_’n +Hunnblaff_,” “A dog’s bark,” if it is quite close; or “_’n Pip Toback_,” +“A pipe of tobacco,” meaning about half an hour. Of a conceited fellow +they say, “_Hê hört de Flégn hosten_,” “He hears the flies coughing.” If a +man is full of great schemes, he is told, “_In Gedanken fört de Bur ôk +in’t Kutsch_.” “In thought the peasant, too, drives in a coach.” A man who +boasts is asked, “_Pracher! häst ôk Lüs, oder schuppst di man so?_” +“Braggart! have you really lice, or do you only scratch yourself as if you +had?” + +“_Holstein singt nicht_,” “Holstein does not sing,” is a curious proverb; +and if it is meant to express the absence of popular poetry in that +country, it would be easy to convict it of falsehood by a list of poets +whose works, though unknown to fame beyond the limits of their own +country, are cherished, and deservedly cherished, by their own countrymen. +The best known among the Holstein poets is Klaus Groth, whose poems, +published under the title of “Quickborn,” _i.e._ quick bourn, or living +spring, show that there is a well of true poetical feeling in that +country, and that its strains are all the more delicious and refreshing if +they bubble up in the native accent of the country. Klaus Groth was born +in 1819. He was the son of a miller; and, though he was sent to school, he +had frequently to work in the field in summer, and make himself generally +useful. Like many Schleswig-Holsteiners, he showed a decided talent for +mathematics; but, before he was sixteen, he had to earn his bread, and +work as a clerk in the office of a local magistrate. His leisure hours +were devoted to various studies: German, Danish, music, psychology, +successively engaged his attention. In his nineteenth year he went to the +seminary at Tondern to prepare himself to become a schoolmaster. There he +studied Latin, French, Swedish; and, after three years, was appointed +teacher at a girls’ school. Though he had to give forty-three lessons a +week, he found time to continue his own reading, and he acquired a +knowledge of English, Dutch, Icelandic, and Italian. At last, however, his +health gave way, and in 1847 he was obliged to resign his place. During +his illness his poetical talent, which he himself had never trusted, +became a source of comfort to himself and to his friends, and the warm +reception which greeted the first edition of his “Quickborn” made him what +he was meant to be,—the poet of Schleswig-Holstein. + +His political poems are few; and, though a true Schleswig-Holsteiner at +heart, he has always declined to fight with his pen when he could not +fight with his sword. In the beginning of this year, however, he published +“Five Songs for Singing and Praying,” which, though they fail to give an +adequate idea of his power as a poet, may be of interest as showing the +deep feelings of the people in their struggle for independence. The text +will be easily intelligible with the help of a literal English +translation. + +DUTSCHE EHR AND DUTSCHE EER. + +I. + +_Frühling_, 1848. + +Dar keemn Soldaten æwer de Elf, +Hurah, hurah, na’t Norn! +Se keemn so dicht as Wagg an Wagg, +Un as en Koppel vull Korn. + +Gundag, Soldaten! wo kamt jü her? +Vun alle Bargen de Krüz un Quer, +Ut dütschen Landen na’t dütsche Meer— +So wannert un treckt dat Heer. + +Wat liggt so eben as weert de See? +Wat schint so gel as Gold? +Dat is de Marschen er Saat un Staat, +Dat is de Holsten er Stoet. + +Gundag jü Holsten op dütsche Eer! +Gundag jü Friesen ant dütsche Meer! +To leben un starben vær dütsche Ehr +So wannert un treckt dat Heer. + +German Honor and German Earth. + +_Spring_, 1848. + +There came soldiers across the Elbe, +Hurrah, hurrah, to the North! +They came as thick as wave on wave, +And like a field full of corn. + +Good day, soldiers! whence do you come? +From all the hills on the right and left, +From German lands to the German sea,— +Thus wanders and marches the host. + +What lies so still as it were the sea? +What shines so yellow as gold? +The splendid fields of the Marshes they are, +The pride of the Holsten race. + +Good day, ye Holsten on German soil! +Good day, ye Friesians, on the German sea +To live and to die for German honor,— +Thus wanders and marches the host. + +II. + +_Sommer_, 1851. + +Dat treckt so trurig æwer de Elf, +In Tritt un Schritt so swar— +De Swalw de wannert, de Hatbar treckt— +Se kamt wedder to tokum Jahr. + +Ade, ade, du dütsches Heer! +“Ade, ade, du Holsten meer! +Ade op Hoffen un Wiederkehr!” +Wi truert alleen ant Meer. + +De Storch kumt wedder, de Swalw de singt +So fröhlich as all tovær— +Wann kumt de dütsche Adler un bringt +Di wedder, du dütsche Ehr? + +Wak op du Floth, wak op du Meer! +Wak op du Dunner, un week de Eer! +Wi sitt op Hæpen un Wedderkehr— +Wi truert alleen ant Meer. + +_Summer_, 1851. + +They march so sad across the Elbe, +So heavy, step by step,— +The swallow wanders, the stork departs,— +They come back in the year to come. + +Adieu, adieu, thou German host! +“Adieu, adieu, thou Holsten sea! +Adieu, in hope, and to meet again!” +We mourn alone by the sea. + +The stork comes back, the swallow sings +As blithe as ever before,— +When will the German eagle return, +And bring thee back, thou German honor! + +Wake up, thou flood! wake up, thou sea! +Wake up, thou thunder, and rouse the land! +We are sitting in hope to meet again,— +We mourn alone by the sea. + +III. + +_Winter_, 1863. + +Dar kumt en Brusen as Værjahswind, +Dat dræhnt as wær dat de Floth,— +Will’t Fröhjahr kamen to Wihnachtstid? +Hölpt Gott uns sülb’n inne Noth? + +Vun alle Bargen de Krüz un Quer +Dar is dat wedder dat dütsche Heer! +Dat gelt op Nu oder Nimmermehr! +So rett se, de dütsche Ehr! + +Wi hört den Adler, he kumt, he kumt! +Noch eenmal hæpt wi un harrt! +Is’t Friheit endlich, de he uns bringt? +ls’t Wahrheit, wat der ut ward? + +Sunst hölp uns Himmel, nu geit’t ni mehr! +Hölp du, un bring uns den Herzog her! +Denn wüllt wi starben vær dütsche Ehr! +Denn begravt uns in dütsche Eer! + +30 _December_, 1863. + +_Winter_, 1863. + +There comes a blast like winter storm; +It roars as it were the flood. +Is the spring coming at Christmas-tide? +Does God himself help us in our need? + +From all the hills on the right and left, +There again comes the German host! +It is to be now or never! +O, save the German honor! + +We hear the eagle, he comes, he comes! +Once more we hope and wait! +Is it freedom at last he brings to us? +Is it truth what comes from thence? + +Else Heaven help us, now it goes no more! +Help thou, and bring us our Duke! +Then will we die for German honor! +Then bury us in German earth! + +_December_ 30, 1863. + +It is not, however, in war songs or political invective that the poetical +genius of Klaus Groth shows to advantage. His proper sphere is the quiet +idyl, a truthful and thoughtful description of nature, a reproduction of +the simplest and deepest feelings of the human heart, and all this in the +homely, honest, and heartfelt language of his own “Platt Deutsch.” That +the example of Burns has told on Groth, that the poetry of the Scotch poet +has inspired and inspirited the poet of Schleswig-Holstein, is not to be +denied. But to imitate Burns, and to imitate him successfully, is no mean +achievement, and Groth would be the last man to disown his master. The +poem “Min Jehann” might have been written by Burns. I shall give a free +metrical translation of it, but should advise the reader to try to spell +out the original; for much of its charm lies in its native form, and to +turn Groth even into High-German destroys his beauty as much as when Burns +is translated into English. + +MIN JEHANN. + +Ik wull, wi weern noch kleen, Jehann, + Do weer de Welt so grot! +We seten op den Steen, Jehann, + Weest noch? by Nawers Sot. + An Heben sell de stille Maan, + Wi segen, wa he leep, + Un snacken, wa de Himmel hoch, + Un wa de Sot wul deep. + +Weest noch, wa still dat weer, Jehann? + Dar röhr keen Blatt an Bom. +So is dat nu ni mehr, Jehann, + As höchstens noch in Drom. + Och ne, wenn do de Scheper sung— + Alleen in’t wide Feld: + Ni wahr, Jehann? dat weer en Ton— + De eenzige op de Welt. + +Mitünner inne Schummerntid + Denn ward mi so to Mod, +Denn löppt mi’t langs den Rügg so hitt, + As domals bi den Sot. + Den dreih ik mi so hasti um, + As weer ik nich alleen: + Doch Allens, wat ik finn, Jehann, + Dat is—ik stah un ween. + +MY JOHN. + +I wish we still were little, John, + The world was then so wide! +When on the stone by neighbor’s bourn + We rested side by side. + We saw the moon in silver veiled + Sail silent through the sky; + Our thoughts were deeper than the bourn, + And as the heavens high. + +You know how still it was then, John; + All nature seemed at rest; +So is it now no longer, John, + Or in our dreams at best! + Think when the shepherd boy then sang + Alone o’er all the plain, + Aye, John, you know, that was a sound + We ne’er shall hear again. + +Sometimes now, John, the eventides + The self-same feelings bring, +My pulses beat as loud and strong + As then beside the spring. + And then I turn affrighted round, + Some stranger to descry; + But nothing can I see, my John,— + I am alone and cry. + +The next poem is a little popular ballad, relating to a tradition, very +common on the northern coast of Germany, both east and west of the +peninsula, of islands swallowed by the sea, their spires, pinnacles, and +roofs being on certain days still visible, and their bells audible, below +the waves. One of these islands was called _Büsen_, or _Old Büsum_, and is +supposed to have been situated opposite the village now called Büsen, on +the west coast of Dithmarschen. Strange to say, the inhabitants of that +island, in spite of their tragic fate, are represented rather in a comical +light, as the Bœotians of Holstein. + +WAT SIK DAT VOLK VERTELLT. + +_Ol Büsum._ + +Ol Büsen hggt int wille Haff, +De Floth de keem un wöhl en Graff. +De Floth de keem un spöl un spöl, +Bet se de Insel ünner wöhl. +Dar blev keen Steen, dar blev keen Pahl, +Dat Water schæl dat all hendal. +Dar weer keen Beest, dar weer keen Hund, +De ligt nu all in depen Grund. +Un Allens, wat der lev un lach, +Dat deck de See mit depe Nach. +Mitünner in de holle Ebb +So süht man vunne Hüs’ de Köpp. +Denn dukt de Thorn herut ut Sand, +As weert en Finger vun en Hand. +Denn hört man sach de Klocken klingn, +Denn hört man sach de Kanter singn; +Denn geit dat lisen dær de Luft: +“Begrabt den Leib in seine Gruft.” + +WHAT THE PEOPLE TELL. + +_Old Büsum._ + +Old Büsen sank into the waves; +The sea has made full many graves; +The flood came near and washed around, +Until the rock to dust was ground. +No stone remained, no belfry steep; +All sank into the waters deep. +There was no beast, there was no hound; +They all were carried to the ground. +And all that lived and laughed around +The sea now holds in gloom profound. +At times, when low the water falls, +The sailor sees the broken walls; +The church tower peeps from out the sand, +Like to the finger of a hand. +Then hears one low the church bells ringing +Then hears one low the sexton singing; +A chant is carried by the gust: +“Give earth to earth, and dust to dust.” + +In the Baltic, too, similar traditions are current of sunken islands and +towns buried in the sea, which are believed to be visible at certain +times. The most famous tradition is that of the ancient town of +Vineta,—once, it is said, the greatest emporium in the north of +Europe,—several times destroyed and built up again, till, in 1183, it was +upheaved by an earthquake and swallowed by a flood. The ruins of Vineta +are believed to be visible between the coast of Pomerania and the island +of Rügen. This tradition has suggested one of Wilhelm Müller’s—my +father’s—lyrical songs, published in his “Stones and Shells from the +Island of Rügen,” 1825, of which I am able to give a translation by Mr. J. +A. Froude. + +VINETA. + +I. + +Aus des Meeres tiefem, tiefem Grunde + Klingen Abendglocken dumpf und matt, +Uns zu geben wunderbare Kunde + Von der schönen alten Wunderstadt. + +II. + +In der Fluthen Sehooss hinabgesunken + Blieben unten ihre Trümmer stehn, +Ihre Zinnen lassen goldne Funken + Wiederscheinend auf dem Spiegel sehn. + +III. + +Und der Schiffer, der den Zauberschimmer + Einmal sah im hellen Abendroth, +Nach derselben Stelle schifft er immer, + Ob auch rings umher die Klippe droht. + +IV. + +Aus des Herzens tiefem, tiefem Grunde + Klingt es mir, wie Glocken, dumpf und matt: +Ach, sie geben wunderbare Kunde + Von der Liebe, die geliebt es hat. + +V. + +Eine schöne Welt ist da versunken, + Ihre Trümmer blieben unten stehn, +Lassen sich als goldne Himmelsfunken + Oft im Spiegel meiner Träume sehn. + +VI. + +Und dann möcht’ ich tauchen in die Tiefen, + Mich versenken in den Wiederschein, +Und mir ist als ob mich Engel riefen + In die alte Wunderstadt herein. + +VINETA. + +I. + +From the sea’s deep hollow faintly pealing, + Far off evening bells come sad and slow; +Faintly rise, the wondrous tale revealing + Of the old enchanted town below. + +II. + +On the bosom of the flood reclining, + Ruined arch and wall and broken spire, +Down beneath the watery mirror shining, + Gleam and flash in flakes of golden fire. + +III. + +And the boatman who at twilight hour + Once that magic vision shall have seen, +Heedless how the crags may round him lour, + Evermore will haunt the charméd scene. + +IV. + +From the heart’s deep hollow faintly pealing, + Far I hear them, bell-notes sad and slow, +Ah, a wild and wondrous tale revealing + Of the drownéd wreck of love below. + +V. + +There a world, in loveliness decaying, + Lingers yet in beauty ere it die; +Phantom forms, across my senses playing, + Flash like golden fire-flakes from the sky. + +VI. + +Lights are gleaming, fairy bells are ringing, + And I long to plunge and wander free, +Where I hear the angel-voices singing + In those ancient towers below the sea. + +I give a few more specimens of Klaus Groth’s poetry, which I have ventured +to turn into English verse, in the hope that my translations, though very +imperfect, may, perhaps on account of their very imperfection, excite +among some of my readers a desire to become acquainted with the originals. + +HE SÄ MI SO VEL. + +I. + +He sä mi so vel, un ik sä em keen Wort, +Un all wat ik sä, weer: Jehann, ik mutt fort! + +II. + +He sä mi vun Lev un vun Himmel un Eer, +He sä mi vun allens—ik weet ni mal mehr! + +III. + +He sä mi so vel, un ik sä em keen Wort, +Un all wat ik sä, weer: Jehann, ik mutt fort! + +IV. + +He heeld mi de Hann, un he be mi so dull, +Ik schull em doch gut wen, un ob ik ni wull? + +V. + +Ik weer je ni bös, awer sä doch keen Wort, +Un all wat ik sä, weer: Jehann, ik mutt fort! + +VI. + +Nu sitt ik un denk, un denk jümmer deran +Mi düch, ik muss seggt hebbn: Wa geern, min Jehann! + +VII. + +Un doch, kumt dat wedder, so segg ik keen Wort, +Un hollt he mi, segg ik: Jehann, ik mutt fort! + +HE TOLD ME SO MUCH. + +I. + +Though he told me so much, I had nothing to say, +And all that I said was, John, I must away! + +II. + +He spoke of his true love, and spoke of all that, +Of honor and heaven,—I hardly know what. + +III. + +Though he told me so much, I had nothing to say, +And all that I said was, John, I must away! + +IV. + +He held me, and asked me, as hard as he could, +That I too should love him, and whether I would? + +V. + +I never was wrath, but had nothing to say, +And all that I said was, John, I must away! + +VI. + +I sit now alone, and I think on and on, +Why did I not say then, How gladly, my John! + +VII. + +Yet even the next time, O what shall I say, +If he holds me and asks me?—John, I must away! + +TÖF MAL! + +Se is doch de stillste vun alle to Kark! +Se is doch de schönste vun alle to Mark! +So weekli, so bleekli, un de Ogen so grot, +So blau as en Heben un deep as en Sot. + +Wer kikt wul int Water, un denkt ni sin Deel? +Wer kikt wul nan Himmel, un wünscht sik ne vel? +Wer süht er in Ogen, so blau un so fram, +Un denkt ni an Engeln, un allerhand Kram? + +I. + +In church she is surely the stillest of all, +She steps through the market so fair and so tall, + +II. + +So softly, so lightly, with wondering eyes, +As deep as the sea, and as blue as the skies. + +III. + +Who thinks not a deal when he looks on the main? +Who looks to the skies, and sighs not again? + +IV. + +Who looks in her eyes, so blue and so true, +And thinks not of angels and other things too? + +KEEN GRAFF IS SO BRUT. + +I. + +Keen Graff is so brut un keen Müer so hoch, +Wenn Twe sik man gut sünd, so drapt se sik doch. + +II. + +Keen Wedder so gruli, so düster keen Nacht, +Wenn Twe sik man sehn wüllt, so seht se sik sacht. + +III. + +Dat gif wul en Maanschin, dar schint wul en Steern, +Dat gift noch en Licht oder Lücht un Lantern. + +IV. + +Dar fiunt sik en Ledder, en Stegelsch un Steg: +Wenn Twe sik man leef hebbt—keen Sorg vaer den Weg. + +I. + +No ditch is so deep, and no wall is so high, +If two love each other, they’ll meet by and by. + +II. + +No storm is so wild, and no night is so black, +If two wish to meet, they will soon find a track. + +III. + +There is surely the moon, or the stars shining bright, +Or a torch, or a lantern, or some sort of light; + +IV. + +There is surely a ladder, a step, or a stile, +If two love each other, they’ll meet ere long while. + +JEHANN, NU SPANN DE SCHIMMELS AN! + +I. + +Jehann, nu spann de Schimmels an! +Nu fahr wi na de Brut! +Un hebbt wi nix as brune Per, +Jehann, so is’t ok gut! + +II. + +Un hebbt wi nix as swarte Per, +Jehann, so is’t ok recht! +Un bün ik nich uns Weerth sin Sœn, +So bün’k sin jüngste Knecht! + +III. + +Un hebbt wi gar keen Per un Wag’, +So hebbt wi junge Been! +Un de so glückli is as ik, +Jehann, dat wüll wi sehn! + +MAKE HASTE, MY JOHN, PUT TO THE GRAYS. + +I. + +Make haste, my John, put to the grays, +We’ll go and fetch the bride, +And if we have but two brown hacks, +They’ll do as well to ride. + +II. + +And if we’ve but a pair of blacks, +We still can bear our doom, +And if I’m not my master’s son, +I’m still his youngest groom. + +III. + +And have we neither horse nor cart, +Still strong young legs have we,— +And any happier man than I, +John, I should like to see. + +DE JUNGE WETFRU. + +Wenn Abends roth de Wulken treckt, +So denk ik och! an di! +So trock verbi dat ganze Heer, +Un du weerst mit derbi. + +Wenn ut de Böm de Blaeder fallt, +So denk ik glik an di: +So full so menni brawe Jung, +Un du weerst mit derbi. + +Denn sett ik mi so truri hin, +Un denk so vel an di, +Ik et alleen min Abendbrot— +Un du büst nich derbi. + +THE SOLDIER’S WIDOW. + +When ruddy clouds are driving past, +’Tis more than I can bear; +Thus did the soldiers all march by, +And thou, too, thou wert there. + +When leaves are falling on the ground, +’Tis more than I can bear; +Thus fell full many a valiant lad, +And thou, too, thou wert there. + +And now I sit so still and sad, +’Tis more than I can bear; +My evening meal I eat alone, +For thou, thou art not there. + +I wish I could add one of Klaus Groth’s tales (“Vertellen,” as he calls +them), which give the most truthful description of all the minute details +of life in Dithmarschen, and bring the peculiar character of the country +and of its inhabitants vividly before the eyes of the reader. But, short +as they are, even the shortest of them would fill more pages than could +here be spared for Schleswig-Holstein. I shall, therefore, conclude this +sketch with a tale which has no author,—a simple tale from one of the +local Holstein newspapers. It came to me in a heap of other papers, +fly-sheets, pamphlets, and books, but it shone like a diamond in a heap of +rubbish; and, as the tale of “The Old Woman of Schleswig-Holstein,” it may +help to give to many who have been unjust to the inhabitants of the +Duchies some truer idea of the stuff there is in that strong and staunch +and sterling race to which England owes its language, its best blood, and +its honored name. + +“When the war against Denmark began again in the winter of 1863, offices +were opened in the principal towns of Germany for collecting charitable +contributions. At Hamburg, Messrs. L. and K. had set apart a large room +for receiving lint, linen, and warm clothing, or small sums of money. One +day, about Christmas, a poorly clad woman from the country stepped in and +inquired, in the pure Holstein dialect, whether contributions were +received here for Schleswig-Holstein. The clerk showed her to a table +covered with linen rags and such like articles. But she turned away and +pulled out an old leather purse, and, taking out pieces of money, began to +count aloud on the counter: ‘One mark, two marks, three marks,’ till she +had finished her ten marks. ‘That makes ten marks,’ she said, and shoved +the little pile away. The clerk, who had watched the poor old woman while +she was arranging her small copper and silver coins, asked her,—‘From whom +does the money come?’ + +“ ‘From me,’ she said, and began counting again, ‘One mark, two marks, +three marks.’ Thus she went on emptying her purse, till she had counted +out ten small heaps of coin, of ten marks each. Then, counting each heap +once over again, she said: ‘These are my hundred marks for +Schleswig-Holstein; be so good as to send them to the soldiers.’ + +“While the old peasant woman was doing her sums, several persons had +gathered round her; and, as she was leaving the shop, she was asked again +in a tone of surprise from whom the money came. + +“ ‘From me,’ she said; and, observing that she was closely scanned, she +turned back, and looking the man full in the face, she added, smiling: ‘It +is all honest money; it won’t hurt the good cause.’ + +“The clerk assured her that no one had doubted her honesty, but that she +herself had, no doubt, often known want, and that it was hardly right to +let her contribute so large a sum, probably the whole of her savings. + +“The old woman remained silent for a time, but, after she had quietly +scanned the faces of all present, she said: ‘Surely it concerns no one how +I got the money. Many a thought passed through my heart while I was +counting that money. You would not ask me to tell you all? But you are +kind gentlemen, and you take much trouble for us poor people. So I’ll tell +you whence the money came. Yes, I have known want; food has been scarce +with me many a day, and it will be so again, as I grow older. But our +gracious Lord watches over us. He has helped me to bear the troubles which +He sent. He will never forsake me. My husband has been dead this many and +many a year. I had one only son; and my John was a fine stout fellow, and +he worked hard, and he would not leave his old mother. He made my home +snug and comfortable. Then came the war with the Danes. All his friends +joined the army; but the only son of a widow, you know, is free. So he +remained at home, and no one said to him, “Come along with us,” for they +knew that he was a brave boy, and that it broke his very heart to stay +behind. I knew it all. I watched him when the people talked of the war, or +when the schoolmaster brought the newspaper. Ah, how he turned pale and +red, and how he looked away, and thought his old mother did not see it! +But he said nothing to me, and I said nothing to him, Gracious God, who +could have thought that it was so hard to drive our oppressors out of the +land? Then came the news from Fredericia! That was a dreadful night. We +sat in silence opposite each other. We knew what was in our hearts, and we +hardly dared to look at each other. Suddenly he rose and took my hand, and +said, “Mother!”—God be praised, I had strength in that moment—“John,” I +said, “our time has come; go in God’s name. I know how thou lovest me, and +what thou hast suffered. God knows what will become of me if I am left +quite alone, but our Lord Jesus Christ will forsake neither thee nor me.” +John enlisted as a volunteer. The day of parting came. Ah, I am making a +long story of it all! John stood before me in his new uniform. “Mother,” +he said, “one request before we part—if it is to be”—“John,” I said to +him, “I know what thou meanest,—O, I shall weep, I shall weep very much +when I am alone; but my time will come, and we shall meet again in the day +of our Lord, John! and the land shall be free, John! the land shall be +free!” ’ + +“Heavy tears stood in the poor old woman’s eyes as she repeated her sad +tale; but she soon collected herself, and continued: ‘I did not think then +it would be so hard. The heart always hopes even against hope. But for all +that’—and here the old woman drew herself up, and looked at us like a +queen—‘I have never regretted that I bade him go. Then came dreadful days; +but the most dreadful of all was when we read that the Germans had +betrayed the land, and that they had given up our land with all our dead +to the Danes! Then I called on the Lord and said, “O Lord, my God, how is +that possible? Why lettest Thou the wicked triumph and allowest the just +to perish?” And I was told that the Germans were sorry for what they had +done, but that they could not help it. But that, gentlemen, I could never +understand. We should never do wrong, nor allow wrong to be done. And, +therefore, I thought, it cannot always remain so; our good Lord knows his +own good time, and in his own good time He will come and deliver us. And I +prayed every evening that our gracious Lord would permit me to see that +day when the land should be free, and our dear dead should sleep no more +in Danish soil. And, as I had no other son against that day, I saved every +year what I could save, and on every Christmas Eve I placed it before me +on a table, where, in former years, I had always placed a small present +for my John, and I said in my heart, The war will come again, and the land +will be free, and thou shalt sleep in a free grave, my only son, my John! +And now, gentlemen, the poor old woman has been told that the day has +come, and that her prayer has been heard, and that the war will begin +again; and that is why she has brought her money, the money she saved for +her son. Good morning, gentlemen,’ she said, and was going quickly away. + +“But, before she had left the room, an old gentleman said, loud enough for +her to hear, ‘Poor body! I hope she may not be deceived.’ + +“ ‘Ah,’ said the old woman, turning back, ‘I know what you mean; I have +been told all is not right yet. But have faith, men! the wicked cannot +prevail against the just; man cannot prevail against the Lord. Hold to +that, gentlemen; hold fast together, gentlemen! This very day I—begin to +save up again.’ + +“Bless her, good old soul! And, if Odin were still looking out of his +window in the sky as of yore, when he granted victory to the women of the +Lombards, might he not say even now:— + +“ ‘When women are heroes, +What must the men be like? +Theirs is the victory; +No need of me.’ ” + +1864. + + + + + +VII. JOINVILLE.(29) + + +Our attention was attracted a few months ago by a review published in the +“Journal des Débats,” in which a new translation of Joinville’s “Histoire +de Saint Louis,” by M. Natalis de Wailly, a distinguished member of the +French Institute, was warmly recommended to the French public. After +pointing out the merits of M. de Wailly’s new rendering of Joinville’s +text, and the usefulness of such a book for enabling boys at school to +gain an insight into the hearts and minds of the Crusaders, and to form to +themselves a living conception of the manners and customs of the people of +the thirteenth century, the reviewer, whose name is well known in this +country as well as in France by his valuable contributions to the history +of medicine, dwelt chiefly on the fact that through the whole of +Joinville’s “Mémoires” there is no mention whatever of surgeons or +physicians. Nearly the whole French army is annihilated, the King and his +companions lie prostrate from wounds and disease, Joinville himself is +several times on the point of death; yet nowhere, according to the French +reviewer, does the chronicler refer to a medical staff attached to the +army or to the person of the King. Being somewhat startled at this remark, +we resolved to peruse once more the charming pages of Joinville’s History; +nor had we to read far before we found that one passage at least had been +overlooked, a passage which establishes beyond the possibility of doubt +the presence of surgeons and physicians in the camp of the French +Crusaders. On page 78 of M. de Wailly’s spirited translation, in the +account of the death of Gautier d’Autrèche, we read that when that brave +knight was carried back to his tent nearly dying, “several of the surgeons +and physicians of the camp came to see him, and not perceiving that he was +dangerously injured, they bled him on both his arms.” The result was what +might be expected: Gautier d’Autrèche soon breathed his last. + +Having once opened the “Mémoires” of Joinville, we could not but go on to +the end, for there are few books that carry on the reader more pleasantly, +whether we read them in the quaint French of the fourteenth century, or in +the more modern French in which they have just been clothed by M. Natalis +de Wailly. So vividly does the easy gossip of the old soldier bring before +our eyes the days of St. Louis and Henry III., that we forget that we are +reading an old chronicle, and holding converse with the heroes of the +thirteenth century. The fates both of Joinville’s “Mémoires” and of +Joinville himself suggest in fact many reflections apart from mere +mediæval history; and a few of them may here be given in the hope of +reviving the impressions left on the minds of many by their first +acquaintance with the old Crusader, or of inviting others to the perusal +of a work which no one who takes an interest in man, whether past or +present, can read without real pleasure and real benefit. + +It is interesting to watch the history of books, and to gain some kind of +insight into the various circumstances which contribute to form the +reputation of poets, philosophers, or historians. Joinville, whose name is +now familiar to the student of French history, as well as to the lover of +French literature, might fairly have expected that his memory would live +by his acts of prowess, and by his loyal devotion and sufferings when +following the King of France, St. Louis, on his unfortunate crusade. When, +previous to his departure for the Holy Land, the young Sénéchal de +Champagne, then about twenty-four years of age, had made his confession to +the Abbot of Cheminon; when, barefoot and in a white sheet, he was +performing his pilgrimages to Blehecourt (Blechicourt), St. Urbain, and +other sacred shrines in his neighborhood, and when on passing his own +domain he would not once turn his eyes back on the castle of Joinville, +“_pour ce que li cuers ne me attendrisist dou biau chastel que je lessoie +et de mes dous enfans_” (“that the heart might not make me pine after the +beautiful castle which I left behind, and after my two children”), he must +have felt that, happen what might to himself, the name of his family would +live, and his descendants would reside from century to century in those +strong towers where he left his young wife, Alix de Grandpré, and his son +and heir Jean, then but a few months old. After five years he returned +from his crusade, full of honors and full of wounds. He held one of the +highest positions that a French nobleman could hold. He was Sénéchal de +Champagne, as his ancestors had been before him. Several members of his +family had distinguished themselves in former crusades, and the services +of his uncle Geoffroi had been so highly appreciated by Richard Cœur de +Lion that he was allowed by that King to quarter the arms of England with +his own. Both at the court of the Comtes de Champagne, who were Kings of +Navarre, and at the court of Louis IX., King of France, Joinville was a +welcome guest. He witnessed the reigns of six kings,—of Louis VIII., +1223-26; Louis IX., or St. Louis, 1226-70; Philip III., le Hardi, 1270-85 +; Philip IV., le Bel, 1285-1314; Louis X., le Hutin, 1314-16 ; and Philip +V., le Long, 1316-22. Though later in life Joinville declined to follow +his beloved King on his last and fatal crusade in 1270, he tells us +himself how, on the day on which he took leave of him, he carried his +royal friend, then really on the brink of death, in his arms from the +residence of the Comte d’Auxerre to the house of the Cordeliers. In 1282 +he was one of the principal witnesses when, previous to the canonization +of the King, an inquest was held to establish the purity of his life, the +sincerity of his religious professions, and the genuineness of his +self-sacrificing devotion in the cause of Christendom. When the daughter +of his own liege lord, the Comte de Champagne, Jeanne de Navarre, married +Philip le Bel, and became Queen of France, she made Joinville Governor of +Champagne, which she had brought as her dowry to the grandson of St. +Louis. Surely, then, when the old Crusader, the friend and counselor of +many kings, closed his earthly career, at the good age of ninety-five, he +might have looked forward to an honored grave in the Church of St. +Laurent, and to an eminent place in the annals of his country, which were +then being written in more or less elegant Latin by the monks of St. +Denis. + +But what has happened? The monkish chroniclers, no doubt, have assigned +him his proper place in their tedious volumes, and there his memory would +have lived with that kind of life which belongs to the memory of Geoffroi, +his illustrious uncle, the friend of Philip Augustus, the companion of +Richard Cœur de Lion, whose arms were to be seen in the Church of St. +Laurent, at Joinville, quartered with the royal arms of England. Such +parchment or hatchment glory might have been his, and many a knight, as +good as he, has received no better, no more lasting reward for his loyalty +and bravery. His family became extinct in his grandson. Henri de +Joinville, his grandson, had no sons; and his daughter, being a wealthy +heiress, was married to one of the Dukes of Lorraine. The Dukes of +Lorraine were buried for centuries in the same Church of St. Laurent where +Joinville reposed, and where he had founded a chapel dedicated to his +companion in arms, Louis IX., the Royal Saint of France; and when, at the +time of the French Revolution, the tombs of St. Denis were broken open by +an infuriated people, and their ashes scattered abroad, the vaults of the +church at Joinville, too, shared the same fate, and the remains of the +brave Crusader suffered the same indignity as the remains of his sainted +King. It is true that there were some sparks of loyalty and self-respect +left in the hearts of the citizens of Joinville. They had the bones of the +old warrior and of the Dukes of Lorraine reinterred in the public +cemetery; and there they now rest, mingled with the dust of their faithful +lieges and subjects. But the Church of St. Laurent, with its tombs and +tombstones, is gone. The property of the Joinvilles descended from the +Dukes of Lorraine to the Dukes of Guise, and, lastly, to the family of +Orleans. The famous Duke of Orleans, Egalité, sold Joinville in 1790, and +stipulated that the old castle should be demolished. Poplars and fir-trees +now cover the ground of the ancient castle, and the name of Joinville is +borne by a royal prince, the son of a dethroned king, the grandson of +Louis Egalité, who died on the guillotine. + +Neither his noble birth, nor his noble deeds, nor the friendship of kings +and princes, would have saved Joinville from that inevitable oblivion +which has blotted from the memory of living men the names of his more +eminent companions,—Robert, Count of Artois; Alphonse, Count of Poitiers; +Charles, Count of Anjou; Hugue, Duke of Burgundy; William, Count of +Flanders, and many more. A little book which the old warrior wrote or +dictated,—for it is very doubtful whether he could have written it +himself,—a book which for many years attracted nobody’s attention, and +which even now we do not possess in the original language of the +thirteenth or the beginning of the fourteenth centuries—has secured to the +name of Jean de Joinville a living immortality, and a fame that will last +long after the bronze statue which was erected in his native place in 1853 +shall have shared the fate of his castle, of his church, and of his tomb. +Nothing could have been further from the mind of the old nobleman when, at +the age of eighty-five, he began the history of his royal comrade, St. +Louis, than the hope of literary fame. He would have scouted it. That kind +of fame might have been good enough for monks and abbots, but it would +never at that time have roused the ambition of a man of Joinville’s stamp. +How the book came to be written he tells us himself in his dedication, +dated in the year 1309, and addressed to Louis le Hutin, then only King of +Navarre and Count of Champagne, but afterwards King of France. His mother, +Jeanne of Navarre, the daughter of Joinville’s former liege lord, the last +of the Counts of Champagne, who was married to Philip le Bel, the grandson +of St. Louis, had asked him “to have a book made for her, containing the +sacred words and good actions of our King, St. Looys.” She died before the +book was finished, and Joinville, therefore, sent it to her son. How it +was received by him we do not know; nor is there any reason to suppose +that there were more than a few copies made of a work which was intended +chiefly for members of the royal family of France and of his own family. +It is never quoted by historical writers of that time; and the first +historian who refers to it is said to be Pierre le Baud, who, toward the +end of the fifteenth century, wrote his “Histoire de Bretagne.” It has +been proved that for a long time no mention of the dedication copy occurs +in the inventories of the private libraries of the Kings of France. At the +death of Louis le Hutin his library consisted of twenty-nine volumes, and +among them the History of St. Louis does not occur. There is, indeed, one +entry, “Quatre caiers de Saint Looys;” but this could not be meant for the +work of Joinville, which was in one volume. These four _cahiers_ or quires +of paper were more likely manuscript notes of St. Louis himself. His +confessor, Geoffroy de Beaulieu, relates that the King, before his last +illness, wrote down with his own hand some salutary counsels in French, of +which he, the confessor, procured a copy before the King’s death, and +which he translated from French into Latin. + +Again, the widow of Louis X. left at her death a collection of forty-one +volumes, and the widow of Charles le Bel a collection of twenty volumes; +but in neither of them is there any mention of Joinville’s History. + +It is not till we come to the reign of Charles V. (1364-80) that +Joinville’s book occurs in the inventory of the royal library, drawn up in +1373 by the King’s valet de chambre, Gilles Mallet. It is entered as “La +vie de Saint Loys, et les fais de son voyage d’outre mer;” and in the +margin of the catalogue there is a note, “Le Roy l’a par devers soy,”—“The +King has it by him.” At the time of his death the volume had not yet been +returned to its proper place in the first hall of the Louvre; but in the +inventory drawn up in 1411 it appears again, with the following +description:(30)— + + + “Une grant partie de la vie et des fais de Monseigneur Saint Loys + que fist faire le Seigneur de Joinville; très-bien escript et + historié. Convert de cuir rouge, à empreintes, à deux fermoirs + d’argent. Escript de lettres de forme en françois à deux + coulombes; commençant au deuxième folio ‘et porceque,’ et au + derrenier ‘en tele maniere.’ ” + + +This means, “A great portion of the life and actions of St. Louis which +the Seigneur de Joinville had made, very well written and illuminated. +Bound in red leather, tooled, with two silver clasps. Written in formal +letters in French, in two columns, beginning on the second folio with the +words ‘_et porceque_,’ and on the last with ‘_en tele maniere_.’ ” + +During the Middle Ages and before the discovery of printing, the task of +having a literary work published, or rather of having it copied, rested +chiefly with the author; and as Joinville himself, at his time of life, +and in the position which he occupied, had no interest in what we should +call “pushing” his book, this alone is quite sufficient to explain its +almost total neglect. But other causes, too, have been assigned by M. +Paulin Paris and others for what seems at first sight so very strange,—the +entire neglect of Joinville’s work. From the beginning of the twelfth +century the monks of St. Denis were the recognized historians of France. +They at first collected the most important historical works of former +centuries, such as Gregory of Tours, Eginhard, the so-called Archbishop +Turpin, Nithard, and William of Jumièges. But beginning with the first +year of Philip I., 1060-1108, the monks became themselves the chroniclers +of passing events. The famous Abbot Suger, the contemporary of Abelard and +St. Bernard, wrote the life of Louis le Gros; Rigord and Guillaume de +Nangis followed with the history of his successors. Thus the official +history of St. Louis had been written by Guillaume de Nangis long before +Joinville thought of dictating his personal recollections of the King. +Besides the work of Guillaume de Nangis, there was the “History of the +Crusades,” including that of St. Louis, written by Guillaume, Archbishop +of Tyre, and translated into French, so that even the ground which +Joinville had more especially selected as his own was preoccupied by a +popular and authoritative writer. Lastly, when Joinville’s History +appeared, the chivalrous King, whose sayings and doings his old brother in +arms undertook to describe in his homely and truthful style, had ceased to +be an ordinary mortal. He had become a saint, and what people were anxious +to know of him were legends rather than history. With all the sincere +admiration which Joinville entertained for his King, he could not compete +with such writers as Geoffroy de Beaulieu (Gaufridus de Belloloco), the +confessor of St. Louis, Guillaume de Chartres (Guillelmus Carnotensis), +his chaplain, or the confessor of his daughter Blanche, each of whom had +written a life of the royal saint. Their works were copied over and over +again, and numerous MSS. have been preserved of them in public and private +libraries. Of Joinville one early MS. only was saved, and even that not +altogether a faithful copy of the original. + +The first edition of Joinville was printed at Poitiers in 1547, and +dedicated to François I. The editor, Pierre Antoine de Rieux, tells us +that when, in 1542, he examined some old documents at Beaufort en Valée, +in Anjou, he found among the MSS. the Chronicle of King Louis, written by +a Seigneur de Joinville, Sénéchal de Champagne, who lived at that time, +and had accompanied the said St. Louis in all his wars. But because it was +badly arranged or written in a very rude language, he had it polished and +put in better order, a proceeding of which he is evidently very proud, as +we may gather from a remark of his friend Guillaume de Perrière, that “it +is no smaller praise to polish a diamond than to find it quite raw” +(_toute brute_). + +This text, which could hardly be called Joinville’s, remained for a time +the received text. It was reproduced in 1595, in 1596, and in 1609. + +In 1617 a new edition was published by Claude Menard. He states that he +found at Laval a heap of old papers, which had escaped the ravages +committed by the Protestants in some of the monasteries at Anjou. When he +compared the MS. of Joinville with the edition of Pierre Antoine de Rieux, +he found that the ancient style of Joinville had been greatly changed. He +therefore undertook a new edition, more faithful to the original. +Unfortunately, however, his original MS. was but a modern copy, and his +edition, though an improvement on that of 1547, was still very far from +the style and language of the beginning of the fourteenth century. + +The learned Du Cange searched in vain for more trustworthy materials for +restoring the text of Joinville. Invaluable as are the dissertations which +he wrote on Joinville, his own text of the History, published in 1668, +could only be based on the two editions that had preceded his own. + +It was not till 1761 that real progress was made in restoring the text of +Joinville. An ancient MS. had been brought from Brussels by the Maréchal +Maurice de Saxe. It was carefully edited by M. Capperonnier, and it has +served, with few exceptions, as the foundation of all later editions. It +is now in the Imperial Library. The editors of the “Recueil des Historiens +de France” express their belief that the MS. might actually be the +original. At the end of it are the words, “Ce fu escript en l’an de grâce +mil CCC et IX, on moys d’octovre.” This, however, is no real proof of the +date of the MS. Transcribers of MSS., it is well known, were in the habit +of mechanically copying all they saw in the original, and hence we find +very commonly the date of an old MS. repeated over and over again in +modern copies. + +The arguments by which in 1839 M. Paulin Paris proved that this, the +oldest MS. of Joinville, belongs not to the beginning, but to the end of +the fourteenth century, seem unanswerable, though they failed to convince +M. Daunou, who, in the twentieth volume of the “Historiens de France,” +published in 1840, still looks upon this MS. as written in 1309, or at +least during Joinville’s life-time. M. Paulin Paris establishes, first of +all, that this MS. cannot be the same as that which was so carefully +described in the catalogue of Charles V. What became of that MS. once +belonging to the private library of the Kings of France, no one knows, but +there is no reason, even now, why it should not still be recovered. The +MS. of Joinville, which now belongs to the Imperial Library, is written by +the same scribe who wrote another MS. of “La Vie et les Miracles de Saint +Louis.” Now, this MS. of “La Vie et les Miracles” is a copy of an older +MS., which likewise exists at Paris. This more ancient MS., probably the +original, and written, therefore, in the beginning of the fourteenth +century, had been carefully revised before it served as the model for the +later copy, executed by the same scribe who, as we saw, wrote the old MS. +of Joinville. A number of letters were scratched out, words erased, and +sometimes whole sentences altered or suppressed, a red line being drawn +across the words which had to be omitted. It looks, in fact, like a +manuscript prepared for the printer. Now, if the same copyist who copied +this MS. copied likewise the MS. of Joinville, it follows that he was +separated from the original of Joinville by the same interval which +separates the corrected MSS. of “La Vie et les Miracles” from their +original, or from the beginning of the fourteenth century. This line of +argument seems to establish satisfactorily the approximate date of the +oldest MS. of Joinville as belonging to the end of the fourteenth century. + +Another MS. was discovered at Lucca. As it had belonged to the Dukes of +Guise, great expectations were at one time entertained of its value. It +was bought by the Royal Library at Paris in 1741 for 360 livres, but it +was soon proved not to be older than about 1500, representing the language +of the time of François I. rather than of St. Louis, but nevertheless +preserving occasionally a more ancient spelling than the other MS. which +was copied two hundred years before. This MS. bears the arms of the +Princess Antoinette de Bourbon and of her husband, Claude de Lorraine, who +was “Duc de Guise, Comte d’Aumale, Marquis de Mayence et d’Elbeuf, and +Baron de Joinville.” Their marriage took place in 1513; he died in 1550, +she in 1583. + +There is a third MS. which has lately been discovered. It belonged to M. +Brissart-Binet of Rheims, became known to M. Paulin Paris, and was lent to +M. de Wailly for his new edition of Joinville. It seems to be a copy of +the so-called MS. of Lucca, the MS. belonging to the Princess Antoinette +de Bourbon, and it is most likely the very copy which that Princess +ordered to be made for Louis Lasséré, canon of St. Martin of Tours who +published an abridgment of it in 1541. By a most fortunate accident it +supplies the passages from page 88 to 112, and from page 126 to 139, which +are wanting in the MS. of Lucca. + +It must be admitted, therefore, that for an accurate study of the +historical growth of the French language, the work of Joinville is of less +importance than it would have been if it had been preserved in its +original orthography, and with all the grammatical peculiarities which +mark the French of the thirteenth and the beginning of the fourteenth +century. There may be no more than a distance of not quite a hundred years +between the original of Joinville and the earliest MS. which we possess. +But in those hundred years the French language did not remain stationary. +Even as late as the time of Montaigne, when French has assumed a far +greater literary steadiness, that writer complains of its constant change. +“I wrote my book,” he says in a memorable passage (“Essais,” liv. 3, c. +9)— + + + “For few people and for a few years. If it had been a subject that + ought to last, it should have been committed to a more stable + language (_Latin_). After the continual variation which has + followed our speech to the present day, who can hope that its + present form will be used fifty years hence? It glides from our + hands every day, and since I have lived it has been half changed. + We say that at present it is perfect, but every century says the + same of its own. I do not wish to hold it back, if it will fly + away and go on deteriorating as it does. It belongs to good and + useful writers to nail the language to themselves” (_de le clouer + à eux_). + + +On the other hand, we must guard against forming an exaggerated notion of +the changes that could have taken place in the French language within the +space of less than a century. They refer chiefly to the spelling of words, +to the use of some antiquated words and expressions, and to the less +careful observation of the rules by which in ancient French the nominative +is distinguished from the oblique cases, both in the singular and the +plural. That the changes do not amount to more than this can be proved by +a comparison of other documents which clearly preserve the actual language +of Joinville. There is a letter of his which is preserved at the Imperial +Library at Paris, addressed to Louis X. in 1315. It was first published by +Du Cange, afterwards by M. Daunou, in the twentieth volume of the +“Historiens de France,” and again by M. de Wailly. There are, likewise, +some charters of Joinville, written in his _chancellerie_, and in some +cases with additions from his own hand. Lastly, there is Joinville’s +“Credo,” containing his notes on the Apostolic Creed, preserved in a +manuscript of the thirteenth century. This was published in the +“Collection des Bibliophiles Français,” unfortunately printed in +twenty-five copies only. The MS. of the “Credo,” which formerly belonged +to the public library of Paris, disappeared from it about twenty years +ago; and it now forms No. 75 of a collection of MSS. bought in 1849 by +Lord Ashburnham from M. Barrois. By comparing the language of these +thirteenth century documents with that of the earliest MS. of Joinville’s +History, it is easy to see that although we have lost something, we have +not lost very much, and that, at all events, we need not suspect in the +earliest MS. any changes that could in any way affect the historical +authenticity of Joinville’s work.(31) + +To the historian of the French language, the language of Joinville, even +though it gives us only a picture of the French spoken at the time of +Charles V. or contemporaneously with Froissart, is still full of interest. +That language is separated from the French of the present day by nearly +five centuries, and we may be allowed to give a few instances to show the +curious changes both of form and meaning which many words have undergone +during that interval. + +Instead of _sœur_, sister, Joinville still uses _sereur_, which was the +right form of the oblique case, but was afterwards replaced by the +nominative _suer_ or _sœur_. Thus, p. 424 E, we read, _quant nous menames +la serour le roy_, _i.e._ _quand nous menâmes la sœur du roi_; but p. 466 +A, _l’abbaïe que sa suer fonda_, _i.e._ _l’abbaïe que sa sœur fonda_. +Instead of _ange_, angel, he has both _angle_ and _angre_, where the _r_ +stands for the final _l_ of _angele_, the more ancient French form of +_angelus_. The same transition of final _l_ into _r_ may be observed in +_apôtre_ for _apostolus_, _chapitre_ for _capitulum_, _chartre_ for +_cartula_, _esclandre_ for _scandalum_. Instead of _vieux_, old, Joinville +uses _veil_ or _veel_ (p. 132 C, _le veil le fil au veil_, _i.e._ _le +vieux fils du vieux_); but in the nom. sing., _viex_, which is the Latin +_vetulus_ (p. 302 A, _li Viex de __ la Montaingne_, _i.e._ _le Vieux de la +Montagne_; but p. 304 A, _li messaige le Vieil_, _i.e._ _les messagers du +Vieux_.) Instead of _coude_, m., elbow, we find _coute_, which is nearer +to the Latin _cubitus_, cubit. The Latin _t_ in words like _cubitus_ was +generally softened in old French, and was afterwards dropped altogether. +As in _coude_, the _d_ is preserved in _aider_ for _adjutare_, in _fade_ +for _fatuus_. In other words, such as _chaîne_ for _catena_, _roue_ for +_rota_, _épée_ for _spatha_, _aimêe_ for _amata_, it has disappeared +altogether. _True_ is _voir_, the regular modification of _verum_, like +_soir_ of _serum_, instead of the modern French _vrai_; _e.g._, p. 524 B, +_et sachiez que voirs estait_, _i.e._ _et sachez que c’était vrai_. We +still find _ester_, to stand (“_Et ne pooit ester sur ses pieds_,” “He +could not stand on his legs”). At present the French have no single word +for “standing,” which has often been pointed out as a real defect of the +language. “To stand” is _ester_, in Joinville; “to be” is _estre_. + +In the grammatical system of the language of Joinville we find the +connecting link between the case terminations of the classical Latin and +the prepositions and articles of modern French. It is generally supposed +that the terminations of the Latin declension were lost in French, and +that the relations of the cases were expressed by prepositions, while the +_s_ as the sign of the plural was explained by the _s_ in the nom. plur. +of nouns of the third declension. But languages do not thus advance _per +saltum_. They change slowly and gradually, and we can generally discover +in what is, some traces of what has been. + +Now the fact is that in ancient French, and likewise in Provençal, there +is still a system of declension more or less independent of prepositions. +There are, so to say, three declensions in old French, of which the second +is the most important and the most interesting. If we take a Latin word +like _annus_, we find in old French two forms in the singular, and two in +the plural. We find sing. _an-s_, _an_, plur. _an_, _ans_. If _an_ occurs +in the nom. sing. or as the subject, it is always _ans_; if it occur as a +gen., dat., or acc., it is always _an_. In the plural, on the contrary, we +find in the nom. _an_, and in all the oblique cases _ans_. The origin of +this system is clear enough, and it is extraordinary that attempts should +have been made to derive it from German or even from Celtic, when the +explanation could be found so much nearer home. The nom. sing. has the +_s_, because it was there in Latin; the nom. plur. has no _s_, because +there was no _s_ there in Latin. The oblique cases in the singular have no +_s_, because the accusative in Latin, and likewise the gen., dat., and +abl., ended either in vowels, which became mute, or in _m_, which was +dropped. The oblique cases in the plural had the _s_, because it was there +in the acc. plur., which became the general oblique case, and likewise in +the dat. and abl. By means of these fragments of the Latin declension, it +was possible to express many things without prepositions which in modern +French can no longer be thus expressed. _Le fils Roi_ was clearly the son +of the King; _il fil Roi_, the sons of the King. Again we find _li roys_, +the King, but _au roy_, to the King. Pierre Sarrasin begins his letter on +the crusade of St. Louis by _A seigneur Nicolas Arode, Jehan-s Sarrasin, +chambrelen-s le roy de France, salut et bonne amour_. + +But if we apply the same principle to nouns of the first declension, we +shall see at once that they could not have lent themselves to the same +contrivance. Words like _corona_ have no _s_ in the nom. sing., nor in any +of the oblique cases; it would therefore be in French _corone_ throughout. +In the plural indeed there might have been a distinction between the nom. +and the acc. The nom. ought to have been without an _s_, and the acc. with +an _s_. But with the exception of some doubtful passages, where a nom. +plur. is supposed to occur in old French documents without an _s_, we find +throughout, both in the nom. and the other cases, the _s_ of the +accusative as the sign of the plural. + +Nearly the same applies to certain words of the third declension. Here we +find indeed a distinction between the nom. and the oblique cases of the +singular, such as _flor-s_, the flower, with _flor_, of the flower; but +the plural is _flor-s_ throughout. This form is chiefly confined to +feminine nouns of the third declension. + +There is another very curious contrivance by which the ancient French +distinguished the nom. from the acc. sing., and which shows us again how +the consciousness of the Latin grammar was by no means entirely lost in +the formation of modern French. There are many words in Latin which change +their accent in the oblique cases from what it was in the nominative. For +instance, _cantátor_, a singer, becomes _cantatórem_, in the accusative. +Now in ancient French the nom., corresponding to _cantator_, is +_chántere_, but the gen. _chanteór_, and thus again a distinction is +established of great importance for grammatical purposes. Most of these +words followed the analogy of the second declension, and added an _s_ in +the nom. sing., dropped it in the nom. plur., and added it again in the +oblique cases of the plural. Thus we get— + +SINGULAR. PLURAL. +Nom. Oblique Cases. Nom. Oblique Cases. +_chántere_ _chanteór_ _chanteór_ _chanteórs_ +From _baro, _baron_ _baron_ _barons_ +baronis_ +(O. Fr. _ber_) +_latro, _larron_ _larron_ _larrons_ +latronis_ +(O. Fr. +_lierre_) +_senior, _seignor_ _seignor_ _seignors_ +senioris_ +(O. Fr. +_sendre_) +(sire) + +Thus we read in the beginning of Joinville’s History:— + +_A son bon signour Looys, Jehans sires de Joinville salut et amour;_ + +and immediately afterwards, _Chiers sire_, not _Chiers seigneur_. + +If we compare this old French declension with the grammar of modern +French, we find that the accusative or the oblique form has become the +only recognized form, both in the singular and plural. Hence— + +[Corone] [Ans] [Flors] [Chántere] le + chantre. +Corone An Flor Chanteór le + chanteur. +[Corones] [An] [Flors] [Chanteór]. +Corones Ans Flors Chanteórs. + +A few traces only of the old system remain in such words as _fils_, +_bras_, _Charles_, _Jacques_, etc. + +Not less curious than the changes of form are the changes of meaning which +have taken place in the French language since the days of Joinville. Thus, +_la viande_, which now only means meat, is used by Joinville in its +original and more general sense of _victuals_, the Latin _vivenda_. For +instance (p. 248 D), “_Et nous requeismes que en nous donnast la viande_,” +“And we asked that one might give us something to eat.” And soon after, +“_Les viandes que il nous donnèrent, ce furent begniet de fourmaiges qui +estoient roti au soliel, pour ce que li ver n’i venissent, et oef dur __ +cuit de quatre jours ou de cinc_,” “And the viands which they gave us were +cheese-cakes roasted in the sun, that the worms might not get at them, and +hard eggs boiled four or five days ago.” + +_Payer_, to pay, is still used in its original sense of pacifying or +satisfying, the Latin _pacare_. Thus a priest who has received from his +bishop an explanation of some difficulty and other ghostly comfort “_se +tint bin pour paié_” (p. 34 C), he “considered himself well satisfied.” +When the King objected to certain words in the oath which he had to take, +Joinville says that he does not know how the oath was finally arranged, +but he adds, “_Li amiral se tindrent lien apaié_,” “The admirals +considered themselves satisfied” (p. 242 C). The same word, however, is +likewise used in the usual sense of paying. + +_Noise_, a word which has almost disappeared from modern French, occurs +several times in Joinville; and we can watch in different passages the +growth of its various meanings. In one passage Joinville relates (p. 198) +that one of his knights had been killed, and was lying on a bier in his +chapel. While the priest was performing his office, six other knights were +talking very loud, and “_Faisoient noise au prestre_,” “They annoyed or +disturbed the priest; they caused him annoyance.” Here _noise_ has still +the same sense as the Latin _nausea_, from which it is derived. In another +passage, however, Joinville uses _noise_ as synonymous with _bruit_ (p. +152 A), _Vint li roys à toute sa bataille, à grant noyse et à grant bruit +de trompes et nacaires_, _i.e._ _vint le roi avec tout son corps de +bataille, à grand cris et à grand bruit de trompettes et de timbales._ +Here _noise_ may still mean an annoying noise, but we can see the easy +transition from that to noise in general. + +Another English word, “to purchase,” finds its explanation in Joinville. +Originally _pourchasser_ meant to hunt after a thing, to pursue it. +Joinville frequently uses the expression “_par son pourchas_” (p. 458 E) +in the sense of “by his endeavors.” When the King had reconciled two +adversaries, peace is said to have been made _par son pourchas_. +“_Pourchasser_” afterwards took the sense of “procuring,” “catering,” and +lastly, in English, of “buying.” + +To return to Joinville’s History, the scarcity of MSS. is very instructive +from an historical point of view. As far as we know at present, his great +work existed for centuries in two copies only, one preserved in his own +castle, the other in the library of the Kings of France. We can hardly say +that it was published, even in the restricted sense which that word had +during the fourteenth century, and there certainly is no evidence that it +was read by any one except by members of the royal family of France, and +possibly by descendants of Joinville. It exercised no influence; and if +two or three copies had not luckily escaped (one of them, it must be +confessed, clearly showing the traces of mice’s teeth), we should have +known very little indeed either of the military or of the literary +achievements of one who is now ranked among the chief historians of +France, or even of Europe. After Joinville’s History had once emerged from +its obscurity, it soon became the fashion to praise it, and to praise it +somewhat indiscriminately. Joinville became a general favorite both in and +out of France; and after all had been said in his praise that might be +truly and properly said, each successive admirer tried to add a little +more, till at last, as a matter of course, he was compared to Thucydides, +and lauded for the graces of his style, the vigor of his language, the +subtlety of his mind, and his worship of the harmonious and the beautiful, +in such a manner that the old bluff soldier would have been highly +perplexed and disgusted, could he have listened to the praises of his +admirers. Well might M. Paulin Paris say, “I shall not stop to praise what +everybody has praised before me; to recall the graceful _naïveté_ of the +good Sénéchal, would it not be, as the English poet said, ‘to gild the +gold and paint the lily white?’ ” + +It is surprising to find in the large crowd of indiscriminate admirers a +man so accurate in his thoughts and in his words as the late Sir James +Stephen. Considering how little Joinville’s History was noticed by his +contemporaries, how little it was read by the people before it was printed +during the reign of François I., it must seem more than doubtful whether +Joinville really deserved a place in a series of lectures, “On the Power +of the Pen in France.” But, waiving that point, is it quite exact to say, +as Sir James Stephen does, “that three writers only retain, and probably +they alone deserve, at this day the admiration which greeted them in their +own,—I refer to Joinville, Froissart, and to Philippe de Comines?” And is +the following a sober and correct description of Joinville’s style?— + + + “Over the whole picture the genial spirit of France glows with all + the natural warmth which we seek in vain among the dry bones of + earlier chroniclers. Without the use of any didactic forms of + speech, Joinville teaches the highest of all wisdom—the wisdom of + love. Without the pedantry of the schools, he occasionally + exhibits an eager thirst of knowledge, and a graceful facility of + imparting it, which attest that he is of the lineage of the great + father of history, and of those modern historians who have taken + Herodotus for their model.” (Vol. ii. pp. 209, 219.) + + +Now, all this sounds to our ears just an octave too high. There is some +truth in it, but the truth is spoilt by being exaggerated. Joinville’s +book is very pleasant to read, because he gives himself no airs, and tells +us as well as he can what he recollects of his excellent King, and of the +fearful time which they spent together during the crusade. He writes very +much as an old soldier would speak. He seems to know that people will +listen to him with respect, and that they will believe what he tells them. +He does not weary them with arguments. He rather likes now and then to +evoke a smile, and he maintains the glow of attention by thinking more of +his hearers than of himself. He had evidently told his stories many times +before he finally dictated them in the form in which we read them, and +this is what gives to some of them a certain finish and the appearance of +art. Yet, if we speak of style at all,—not of the style of thought, but of +the style of language,—the blemishes in Joinville’s History are so +apparent that one feels reluctant to point them out. He repeats his words, +he repeats his remarks, he drops the thread of his story, begins a new +subject, leaves it because, as he says himself, it would carry him too +far, and then, after a time, returns to it again. His descriptions of the +scenery where the camp was pitched, and the battles fought, are neither +sufficiently broad nor sufficiently distinct to give the reader that view +of the whole which he receives from such writers as Cæsar, Thiers, +Carlyle, or Russell. Nor is there any attempt at describing or analyzing +the character of the principal actors in the crusade of St. Louis, beyond +relating some of their remarks or occasional conversations. It is an +ungrateful task to draw up these indictments against a man whom one +probably admires much more sincerely than those who bespatter him with +undeserved praise. Joinville’s book is readable, and it is readable even +in spite of the antiquated and sometimes difficult language in which it is +written. There are few books of which we could say the same. What makes +his book readable is partly the interest attaching to the subject of which +it treats, but far more the simple, natural, straightforward way in which +Joinville tells what he has to tell. From one point of view it may be +truly said that no higher praise could be bestowed on any style than to +say that it is simple, natural, straightforward, and charming. But if his +indiscriminate admirers had appreciated this artless art, they would not +have applied to the pleasant gossip of an old general epithets that are +appropriate only to the masterpieces of classical literature. + +It is important to bear in mind what suggested to Joinville the first idea +of writing his book. He was asked to do so by the Queen of Philip le Bel. +After the death of the Queen, however, Joinville did not dedicate his work +to the King, but to his son, who was then the heir apparent. This may be +explained by the fact that he himself was Sénéchal de Champagne, and +Louis, the son of Philip le Bel, Comte de Champagne. But it admits of +another and more probable explanation. Joinville was dissatisfied with the +proceedings of Philip le Bel, and from the very beginning of his reign he +opposed his encroachments on the privileges of the nobility and the +liberties of the people. He was punished for his opposition, and excluded +from the assemblies in Champagne in 1287; and though his name appeared +again on the roll in 1291, Joinville then occupied only the sixth instead +of the first place. In 1314 matters came to a crisis in Champagne, and +Joinville called together the nobility in order to declare openly against +the King. The opportune death of Philip alone prevented the breaking out +of a rebellion. It is true that there are no direct allusions to these +matters in the body of Joinville’s book, yet an impression is left on the +reader that he wrote some portion of the Life of St. Louis as a lesson to +the young prince to whom it is dedicated. Once or twice, indeed, he uses +language which sounds ominous, and which would hardly be tolerated in +France, even after the lapse of five centuries. When speaking of the great +honor which St. Louis conferred on his family, he says “that it was, +indeed, a great honor to those of his descendants who would follow his +example by good works, but a great dishonor to those who would do evil. +For people would point at them with their fingers, and would say that the +sainted King from whom they descended would have despised such +wickedness.” There is another passage even stronger than this. After +relating how St. Louis escaped from many dangers by the grace of God, he +suddenly exclaims, “Let the King who now reigns (Philip le Bel) take care, +for he has escaped from as great dangers—nay, from greater ones—than we; +let him see whether he cannot amend his evil ways, so that God may not +strike him and his affairs cruelly.” + +This surely is strong language, considering that it was used in a book +dedicated to the son of the then reigning King. To the father of Philip le +Bel, Joinville seems to have spoken with the same frankness as to his son; +and he tells us himself how he reproved the King, Philip le Hardi, for his +extravagant dress, and admonished him to follow the example of his father. +Similar remarks occur again and again; and though the Life of St. Louis +was certainly not written merely for didactic purposes, yet one cannot +help seeing that it was written with a practical object. In the +introduction Joinville says, “I send the book to you, that you and your +brother and others who hear it may take an example, and that they may +carry it out in their life, for which God will bless them.” And again (p. +268), “These things shall I cause to be written, that those who hear them +may have faith in God in their persecutions and tribulations, and God will +help them, as He did me.” Again (p. 380), “These things I have told you, +that you may guard against taking an oath without reason, for, as the wise +say, ‘He who swears readily, forswears himself readily.’ ” + +It seems, therefore, that when Joinville took to dictating his +recollections of St. Louis, he did so partly to redeem a promise given to +the Queen, who, he says, loved him much, and whom he could not refuse, +partly to place in the hands of the young princes a book full of +historical lessons which they might read, mark, and inwardly digest. + +And well might he do so, and well might his book be read by all young +princes, and by all who are able to learn a lesson from the pages of +history; for few kings, if any, did ever wear their crowns so worthily as +Louis IX. of France; and few saints, if any, did deserve their halo better +than St. Louis. Here lies the deep and lasting interest of Joinville’s +work. It allows us an insight into a life which we could hardly realize, +nay, which we should hardly believe in, unless we had the testimony of +that trusty witness, Joinville, the King’s friend and comrade. The +legendary lives of St. Louis would have destroyed in the eyes of posterity +the real greatness and the real sanctity of the King’s character. We +should never have known the man, but only his saintly caricature. After +reading Joinville, we must make up our mind that such a life as he there +describes was really lived, and was lived in those very palaces which we +are accustomed to consider as the sinks of wickedness and vice. From other +descriptions we might have imagined Louis IX. as a bigoted, priest-ridden, +credulous King. From Joinville we learn that, though unwavering in his +faith, and most strict in the observance of his religious duties, the King +was by no means narrow in his sympathies, or partial to the encroachments +of priestcraft. We find Joinville speaking to the King on subjects of +religion with the greatest freedom, and as no courtier would have dared to +speak during the later years of Louis XIV.’s reign. When the King asked +him whether in the holy week he ever washed the feet of the poor, +Joinville replied that he would never wash the feet of such villains. For +this remark he was, no doubt, reproved by the King, who, as we are told by +Beaulieu, with the most unpleasant details, washed the feet of the poor +every Saturday. But the reply, though somewhat irreverent, is, +nevertheless, highly creditable to the courtier’s frankness. Another time +he shocked his royal friend still more by telling him, in the presence of +several priests, that he would rather have committed thirty mortal sins +than be a leper. The King said nothing at the time, but he sent for him +the next day, and reproved him in the most gentle manner for his +thoughtless speech. + +Joinville, too, with all the respect which he entertained for his King, +would never hesitate to speak his mind when he thought that the King was +in the wrong. On one occasion the Abbot of Cluny presented the King with +two horses, worth five hundred _livres_. The next day the Abbot came again +to the King to discuss some matters of business. Joinville observed that +the King listened to him with marked attention. After the Abbot was gone, +he went to the King, and said, “ ‘Sire, may I ask you whether you listened +to the Abbot more cheerfully because he presented you yesterday with two +horses?’ The King meditated for a time, and then said to me, ‘Truly, yes.’ +‘Sire,’ said I, ‘do you know why I asked you this question?’ ‘Why?’ said +he. ‘Because, Sire,’ I said, ‘I advise you, when you return to France, to +prohibit all sworn counselors from accepting anything from those who have +to bring their affairs before them. For you may be certain, if they accept +anything, they will listen more cheerfully and attentively to those who +give, as you did yourself with the Abbot of Cluny.’ ” + +Surely a king who could listen to such language is not likely to have had +his court filled with hypocrites, whether lay or clerical. The bishops, +though they might count on the King for any help he could give them in the +great work of teaching, raising, and comforting the people, tried in vain +to make him commit an injustice in defense of what they considered +religion. One day a numerous deputation of prelates asked for an +interview. It was readily granted. When they appeared before the King, +their spokesman said, “Sire, these lords who are here, archbishops and +bishops, have asked me to tell you that Christianity is perishing at your +hands.” The King signed himself with the cross, and said, “Tell me how can +that be?” “Sire,” he said, “it is because people care so little nowadays +for excommunication that they would rather die excommunicated than have +themselves absolved and give satisfaction to the Church. Now, we pray you, +Sire, for the sake of God, and because it is your duty, that you command +your provosts and bailiffs that by seizing the goods of those who allow +themselves to be excommunicated for the space of one year, they may force +them to come and be absolved.” Then the King replied that he would do this +willingly with all those of whom it could be _proved_ that they were in +the wrong (which would, in fact, have given the King jurisdiction in +ecclesiastical matters). The bishops said that they could not do this at +any price; they would never bring their causes before his court. Then the +King said he could not do it otherwise, for it would be against God and +against reason. He reminded them of the case of the Comte de Bretagne, who +had been excommunicated by the prelates of Brittany for the space of seven +years, and who, when he appealed to the Pope, gained his cause, while the +prelates were condemned. “Now then,” the King said, “if I had forced the +Comte de Bretagne to get absolution from the prelates after the first +year, should I not have sinned against God and against him?” + +This is not the language of a bigoted man; and if we find in the life of +St. Louis traces of what in our age we might feel inclined to call bigotry +or credulity, we must consider that the religious and intellectual +atmosphere of the reign of St. Louis was very different from our own. +There are, no doubt, some of the sayings and doings recorded by Joinville +of his beloved King which at present would be unanimously condemned even +by the most orthodox and narrow-minded. Think of an assembly of +theologians in the monastery of Cluny who had invited a distinguished +rabbi to discuss certain points of Christian doctrine with them. A knight, +who happened to be staying with the abbot, asked for leave to open the +discussion, and he addressed the Jew in the following words: “Do you +believe that the Virgin Mary was a virgin and Mother of God?” When the Jew +replied, “No!” the knight took his crutch and felled the poor Jew to the +ground. The King, who relates this to Joinville, draws one very wise +lesson from, it—namely, that no one who is not a very good theologian +should enter upon a controversy with Jews on such subjects. But when he +goes on to say that a layman who hears the Christian religion evil spoken +of should take to the sword as the right weapon of defense, and run it +into the miscreant’s body as far as it would go, we perceive at once that +we are in the thirteenth and not in the nineteenth century. The +punishments which the King inflicted for swearing were most cruel. At +Cesarea, Joinville tells us that he saw a goldsmith fastened to a ladder, +with the entrails of a pig twisted round his neck right up to his nose, +because he had used irreverent language. Nay, after his return from the +Holy Land, he heard that the King ordered a man’s nose and lower lip to be +burnt for the same offense. The Pope himself had to interfere to prevent +St. Louis from inflicting on blasphemers mutilation and death. “I would +myself be branded with a hot iron,” the King said, “if thus I could drive +away all swearing from my kingdom.” He himself, as Joinville assures us, +never used an oath, nor did he pronounce the name of the Devil except when +reading the lives of the saints. His soul, we cannot doubt, was grieved +when he heard the names which to him were the most sacred, employed for +profane purposes; and this feeling of indignation was shared by his honest +chronicler. “In my castle,” says Joinville, “whosoever uses bad language +receives a good pommeling, and this has nearly put down that bad habit.” +Here again we see the upright character of Joinville. He does not, like +most courtiers, try to outbid his sovereign in pious indignation; on the +contrary, while sharing his feelings, he gently reproves the King for his +excessive zeal and cruelty, and this after the King had been raised to the +exalted position of a saint. + +To doubt of any points of the Christian doctrine was considered at +Joinville’s time, as it is even now, as a temptation of the Devil. But +here again we see at the court of St. Louis a wonderful mixture of +tolerance and intolerance. Joinville, who evidently spoke his mind freely +on all things, received frequent reproofs and lessons from the King; and +we hardly know which to wonder at most, the weakness of the arguments, or +the gentle and truly Christian spirit in which the King used them. The +King once asked Joinville how he knew that his father’s name was Symon. +Joinville replied he knew it because his mother had told him so. “Then,” +the King said, “you ought likewise firmly to believe all the articles of +faith which the Apostles attest, as you hear them sung every Sunday in the +Creed.” The use of such an argument by such a man leaves an impression on +the mind that the King himself was not free from religious doubts and +difficulties, and that his faith was built upon ground which was apt to +shake. And this impression is confirmed by a conversation which +immediately follows after this argument. It is long, but it is far too +important to be here omitted. The Bishop of Paris had told the King, +probably in order to comfort him after receiving from him the confession +of some of his own religious difficulties, that one day he received a +visit from a great master in divinity. The master threw himself at the +Bishop’s feet and cried bitterly. The Bishop said to him,— + +“ ‘Master, do not despair; no one can sin so much that God could not +forgive him.’ + +“The master said, ‘I cannot help crying, for I believe I am a miscreant: +for I cannot bring my heart to believe the sacrament of the altar, as the +holy Church teaches it, and I know full well that it is the temptation of +the enemy.’ + +“ ‘Master,’ replied the Bishop, ‘tell me, when the enemy sends you this +temptation, does it please you?’ + +“And the master said, ‘Sir, it pains me as much as anything can pain.’ + +“ ‘Then I ask you,’ the Bishop continued, ‘would you take gold or silver +in order to avow with your mouth anything that is against the sacrament of +the altar, or against the other sacred sacraments of the Church?’ + +“And the master said, ‘Know, sir, that there is nothing in the world that +I should take; I would rather that all my limbs were torn from my body +than openly avow this.’ + +“ ‘Then,’ said the Bishop, ‘I shall tell you something else. You know that +the King of France made war against the King of England, and you know that +the castle which is nearest to the frontier is La Rochelle, in Poitou. +Now, I shall ask you, if the King had trusted you to defend La Rochelle, +and he had trusted me to defend the Castle of Laon, which is in the heart +of France, where the country is at peace, to whom ought the King to be +more beholden at the end of the war,—to you who had defended La Rochelle +without losing it, or to me who kept the Castle of Laon?’ + +“ ‘In the name of God,’ said the master, ‘to me who had kept La Rochelle +with losing it.’ + +“ ‘Master,’ said the Bishop, ‘I tell you that my heart is like the Castle +of Laon (Montleheri), for I feel no temptation and no doubt as to the +sacrament of the altar; therefore, I tell you, if God gives me one reward +because I believe firmly and in peace, He will give you four, because you +keep your heart for Him in this fight of tribulation, and have such +goodwill toward Him that for no earthly good, nor for any pain inflicted +on your body, you would forsake Him. Therefore, I say to you, be at ease; +your state is more pleasing to our Lord than my own.’ ” + +When the master had heard this, he fell on his knees before the Bishop, +and felt again at peace. + +Surely, if the cruel punishment inflicted by St. Louis on blasphemers is +behind our age, is not the love, the humility, the truthfulness of this +Bishop,—is not the spirit in which he acted toward the priest, and the +spirit in which he related this conversation to the King, somewhat in +advance of the century in which we live? + +If we only dwell on certain passages of Joinville’s memoirs, it is easy to +say that he and his King, and the whole age in which they moved, were +credulous, engrossed by the mere formalities of religion, and fanatical in +their enterprise to recover Jerusalem and the Holy Land. But let us +candidly enter into their view of life, and many things which at first +seem strange and startling will become intelligible. Joinville does not +relate many miracles; and such is his good faith that we may implicitly +believe the facts, such as he states them, however we may differ as to the +interpretation by which, to Joinville’s mind, these facts assumed a +miraculous character. On their way to the Holy Land it seems that their +ship was windbound for several days, and that they were in danger of being +taken prisoners by the pirates of Barbary. Joinville recollected the +saying of a priest who had told him that, whatever had happened in his +parish, whether too much rain or too little rain, or anything else, if he +made three processions for three successive Saturdays, his prayer was +always heard. Joinville, therefore, recommended the same remedy. Seasick +as he was, he was carried on deck, and the procession was formed round the +two masts of the ship. As soon as this was done, the wind rose, and the +ship arrived at Cyprus the third Saturday. The same remedy was resorted to +a second time, and with equal effect. The King was waiting at Damietta for +his brother, the Comte de Poitiers, and his army, and was very uneasy +about the delay in his arrival. Joinville told the legate of the miracle +that had happened on their voyage to Cyprus. The legate consented to have +three processions on three successive Saturdays, and on the third Saturday +the Comte de Poitiers and his fleet arrived before Damietta. One more +instance may suffice. On their return to France a sailor fell overboard, +and was left in the water. Joinville, whose ship was close by, saw +something in the water; but, as he observed no struggle, he imagined it +was a cask. The man, however, was picked up; and when asked why he did not +exert himself, he replied that he saw no necessity for it. As soon as he +fell into the water he commended himself to _Nostre Dame_, and she +supported him by his shoulders till he was picked up by the King’s galley. +Joinville had a window painted in his chapel to commemorate this miracle; +and there, no doubt, the Virgin would be represented as supporting the +sailor exactly as he described it. + +Now, it must be admitted that before the tribunal of the ordinary +philosophy of the nineteenth century, these miracles would be put down +either as inventions or as exaggerations. But let us examine the thoughts +and the language of that age, and we shall take a more charitable, and, we +believe, a more correct view. Men like Joinville did not distinguish +between a general and a special providence, and few who have carefully +examined the true import of words would blame him for that. Whatever +happened to him and his friends, the smallest as well as the greatest +events were taken alike as so many communications from God to man. Nothing +could happen to any one of them unless God willed it. “God wills it,” they +exclaimed, and put the cross on their breasts, and left house and home, +and wife and children, to fight the infidels in the Holy Land. The King +was ill and on the point of death, when he made a vow that if he +recovered, he would undertake a crusade. In spite of the dangers which +threatened him and his country, where every vassal was a rival, in spite +of the despair of his excellent mother, the King fulfilled his vow, and +risked not only his crown, but his life, without a complaint and without a +regret. It may be that the prospect of Eastern booty, or even of an +Eastern throne, had some part in exciting the pious zeal of the French +chivalry. Yet if we read of Joinville, who was then a young and gay +nobleman of twenty-four, with a young wife and a beautiful castle in +Champagne, giving up everything, confessing his sins, making reparation, +performing pilgrimages, and then starting for the East, there to endure +for five years the most horrible hardships; when we read of his sailors +singing a _Veni, Creator Spiritus_, before they hoisted their sails; when +we see how every day, in the midst of pestilence and battle, the King and +his Sénéchal and his knights say their prayers and perform their religious +duties; how in every danger they commend themselves to God or to their +saints; how for every blessing, for every escape from danger, they return +thanks to Heaven,—we easily learn to understand how natural it was that +such men should see miracles in every blessing vouchsafed to them, whether +great or small, just as the Jews of old, in that sense the true people of +God, saw miracles, saw the finger of God in every plague that visited +their camp, and in every spring of water that saved them from destruction. +When the Egyptians were throwing the Greek fire into the camp of the +Crusaders, St. Louis raised himself in his bed at the report of every +discharge of those murderous missiles, and, stretching forth his hands +towards heaven, he said, crying, “Good Lord God, protect my people.” +Joinville, after relating this, remarks, “And I believe truly that his +prayers served us well in our need.” And was he not right in this belief, +as right as the Israelites were when they saw Moses lifting up his heavy +arms, and they prevailed against Amalek? Surely this belief was put to a +hard test when a fearful plague broke out in the camp, when nearly the +whole French army was massacred, when the King was taken prisoner, when +the Queen, in childbed, had to make her old chamberlain swear that he +would kill her at the first approach of the enemy, when the small remnant +of that mighty French army had to purchase its return to France by a heavy +ransom. Yet nothing could shake Joinville’s faith in the ever-ready help +of our Lord, of the Virgin, and of the saints. “Be certain,” he writes, +“that the Virgin helped us, and she would have helped us more if we had +not offended her, her and her Son, as I said before.” Surely, with such +faith, credulity ceases to be credulity. Where there is credulity without +that living faith which sees the hand of God in everything, man’s +indignation is rightly roused. That credulity leads to self-conceit, +hypocrisy, and unbelief. But such was not the credulity of Joinville or of +his King, or of the Bishop who comforted the great master in theology. A +modern historian would not call the rescue of the drowning sailor, nor the +favorable wind which brought the Crusaders to Cyprus, nor the opportune +arrival of the Comte de Poitiers miracles, because the word “miracle” has +a different sense with us from what it had during the Middle Ages, from +what it had at the time of the Apostles, and from what it had at the time +of Moses. Yet to the drowning sailor his rescue was miraculous; to the +despairing King the arrival of his brother was a godsend; and to Joinville +and his crew, who were in imminent danger of being carried off as slaves +by Moorish pirates, the wind that brought them safe to Cyprus was more +than a fortunate accident. Our language differs from the language of +Joinville, yet in our heart of hearts we mean the same thing. + +And nothing shows better the reality and healthiness of the religion of +those brave knights than their cheerful and open countenance, their +thorough enjoyment of all the good things of this life, their freedom in +thought and speech. You never catch Joinville canting, or with an +expression of blank solemnity. When his ship was surrounded by the galleys +of the Sultan, and when they held a council as to whether they should +surrender themselves to the Sultan’s fleet or to his army on shore, one of +his servants objected to all surrender. “Let us all be killed,” he said to +Joinville, “and then we shall all go straight to Paradise.” His advice, +however, was not followed, because, as Joinville says, “we did not believe +it.” + +If we bear in mind that Joinville’s History was written after Louis has +been raised to the rank of a saint, his way of speaking of the King, +though always respectful, strikes us, nevertheless, as it must have struck +his contemporaries, as sometimes very plain and familiar. It is well known +that an attempt was actually made by the notorious Jesuit, le Père +Hardouin, to prove Joinville’s work as spurious, or, at all events, as +full of interpolations, inserted by the enemies of the Church. It was an +attempt which thoroughly failed, and which was too dangerous to be +repeated; but, on reading Joinville after reading the life and miracles of +St. Louis, one can easily understand that the soldier’s account of the +brave King was not quite palatable or welcome to the authors of the +legends of the royal saint. At the time when the King’s bones had begun to +work wretched miracles, the following story could hardly have sounded +respectful: “When the King was at Acre,” Joinville writes, “some pilgrims +on their way to Jerusalem wished to see him. Joinville went to the King, +and said, ‘Sire, there is a crowd of people who have asked me to show them +the royal saint, though _I_ have no wish as yet to kiss your bones.’ The +King laughed loud, and asked me to bring the people.” + +In the thick of the battle, in which Joinville received five wounds and +his horse fifteen, and when death seemed almost certain, Joinville tells +us that the good Count of Soissons rode up to him and chaffed him, saying, +“Let those dogs loose, for, _par la quoife Dieu_,”—as he always used to +swear,—“we shall still talk of this day in the rooms of our ladies.” + +The Crusades and the Crusaders, though they are only five or six centuries +removed from us, have assumed a kind of romantic character, which makes it +very difficult even for the historian to feel towards them the same human +interest which we feel for Cæsar or Pericles. Works like that of Joinville +are most useful in dispelling that mist which the chroniclers of old and +the romances of Walter Scott and others have raised round the heroes of +these holy wars. St. Louis and his companions, as described by Joinville, +not only in their glistening armor, but in their everyday attire, are +brought nearer to us, become intelligible to us, and teach us lessons of +humanity which we can learn from men only, and not from saints and heroes. +Here lies the real value of real history. It makes us familiar with the +thoughts of men who differ from us in manners and language, in thought and +religion, and yet with whom we are able to sympathize, and from whom we +are able to learn. It widens our minds and our hearts, and gives us that +true knowledge of the world and of human nature in all its phases which +but few can gain in the short span of their own life, and in the narrow +sphere of their friends and enemies. We can hardly imagine a better book +for boys to read or for men to ponder over; and we hope that M. de +Wailly’s laudable efforts may be crowned with complete success, and that, +whether in France or in England, no student of history will in future +imagine that he knows the true spirit of the Crusades and the Crusaders +who has not read once, and more than once, the original Memoirs of +Joinville, as edited, translated, and explained by the eminent Keeper of +the Imperial Library at Paris, M. Natalis de Wailly. + +1866. + + + + + +VIII. THE JOURNAL DES SAVANTS AND THE JOURNAL DE TRÉVOUX.(32) + + +For a hundred persons who, in this country, read the “Revue des Deux +Mondes,” how many are there who read the “Journal des Savants?” In France +the authority of that journal is indeed supreme; but its very title +frightens the general public, and its blue cover is but seldom seen on the +tables of the _salles de lecture_. And yet there is no French periodical +so well suited to the tastes of the better class of readers in England. +Its contributors are all members of the Institut de France; and, if we may +measure the value of a periodical by the honor which it reflects on those +who form its staff, no journal in France can vie with the “Journal des +Savants.” At the present moment we find on its roll such names as Cousin, +Flourens, Villemain, Mignet, Barthélemy Saint-Hilaire, Naudet, Prosper +Mérimé, Littré, Vitet—names which, if now and then seen on the covers of +the “Revue des Deux Mondes,” the “Revue Contemporaine,” or the “Revue +Moderne,” confer an exceptional lustre on these fortnightly or monthly +issues. The articles which are admitted into this select periodical may be +deficient now and then in those outward charms of diction by which French +readers like to be dazzled; but what in France is called _trop savant, +trop lourd_, is frequently far more palatable than the highly spiced +articles which are no doubt delightful to read, but which, like an +excellent French dinner, make you almost doubt whether you have dined or +not. If English journalists are bent on taking for their models the +fortnightly or monthly contemporaries of France, the “Journal des Savants” +might offer a much better chance of success than the more popular +_revues_. We should be sorry indeed to see any periodical published under +the superintendence of the “Ministre de l’Instruction Publique,” or of any +other member of the Cabinet; but, apart from that, a literary tribunal +like that formed by the members of the “Bureau du Journal des Savants” +would certainly be a great benefit to literary criticism. The general tone +that runs through their articles is impartial and dignified. Each writer +seems to feel the responsibility which attaches to the bench from which he +addresses the public, and we can of late years recall hardly any case +where the dictum of “noblesse oblige” has been disregarded in this the +most ancient among the purely literary journals of Europe. + +The first number of the “Journal des Savants” was published more than two +hundred years ago, on the 5th of January, 1655. It was the first small +beginning in a branch of literature which has since assumed immense +proportions. Voltaire speaks of it as “le père de tous les ouvrages de ce +genre, dont l’Europe est aujourd’hui remplie.” It was published at first +once a week, every Monday; and the responsible editor was M. de Sallo, +who, in order to avoid the retaliations of sensitive authors, adopted the +name of Le Sieur de Hedouville, the name, it is said, of his _valet de +chambre_. The articles were short, and in many cases they only gave a +description of the books, without any critical remarks. The Journal +likewise gave an account of important discoveries in science and art, and +of other events that might seem of interest to men of letters. Its success +must have been considerable, if we may judge by the number of rival +publications which soon sprang up in France and in other countries of +Europe. In England, a philosophical journal on the same plan was started +before the year was over. In Germany, the “Journal des Savants” was +translated into Latin by F. Nitzschius in 1668, and before the end of the +seventeenth century the “Giornale de’ Letterati” (1668), the “Bibliotheca +Volante” (1677), the “Acta Eruditorum” (1682), the “Nouvelles de la +République des Lettres” (1684), the “Bibliothèque Universelle et +Historique” (1686), the “Histoire des Ouvrages des Savants” (1687), and +the “Monatliche Unterredungen” (1689), had been launched in the principal +countries of Europe. In the next century it was remarked of the journals +published in Germany, “Plura dixeris pullulasse brevi tempore quam fungi +nascuntur unâ nocte.” + +Most of these journals were published by laymen, and represented the +purely intellectual interests of society. It was but natural, therefore, +that the clergy also should soon have endeavored to possess a journal of +their own. The Jesuits, who at that time were the most active and +influential order, were not slow to appreciate this new opportunity for +directing public opinion, and they founded in 1701 their famous journal, +the “Mémoires de Trévoux.” Famous indeed it might once be called, and yet +at present how little is known of that collection! how seldom are its +volumes called for in our public libraries! It was for a long time the +rival of the “Journal des Savants.” Under the editorship of Le Père +Berthier it fought bravely against Diderot, Voltaire, and other heralds of +the French Revolution. It weathered even the fatal year of 1762, but, +after changing its name, and moderating its pretensions, it ceased to +appear in 1782. The long rows of its volumes are now piled up in our +libraries likes rows of tombstones, which we pass by without even stopping +to examine the names and titles of those who are buried in these vast +catacombs of thought. + +It was a happy idea that led the Père P. C. Sommervogel, himself a member +of the order of the Jesuits, to examine the dusty volumes of the “Journal +de Trévoux,” and to do for it the only thing that could be done to make it +useful once more, at least to a certain degree, namely, to prepare a +general index of the numerous subjects treated in its volumes, on the +model of the great index, published in 1753, of the “Journal des Savants.” +His work, published at Paris in 1865, consists of three volumes. The first +gives an index of the original dissertations; the second and third, of the +works criticised in the “Journal de Trévoux.” It is a work of much smaller +pretensions than the index to the “Journal des Savants;” yet, such as it +is, it is useful, and will amply suffice for the purposes of those few +readers who have from time to time to consult the literary annals of the +Jesuits in France. + +The title of the “Mémoires de Trévoux” was taken from the town of Trévoux, +the capital of the principality of Dombes, which Louis XIV. had conferred +on the Duc de Maine, with all the privileges of a sovereign. Like Louis +XIV., the young prince gloried in the title of a patron of art and +science, but, as the pupil of Madame de Maintenon, he devoted himself even +more zealously to the defense of religion. A printing-office was founded +at Trévoux, and the Jesuits were invited to publish a new journal, “où +l’on eût principalement en vûë la défense de la religion.” This was the +“Journal de Trévoux,” published for the first time in February, 1701, +under the title of “Mémoires pour l’Histoire des Sciences et des Beaux +Arts, recueillis par l’ordre de Son Altesse Sérénissime, Monseigneur +Prince Souverain de Dombes.” It was entirely and professedly in the hands +of the Jesuits, and we find among its earliest contributors such names as +Catrou, Tournemine, and Hardouin. The opportunities for collecting +literary and other intelligence enjoyed by the members of that order were +extraordinary. We doubt whether any paper, even in our days, has so many +intelligent correspondents in every part of the world. If any astronomical +observation was to be made in China or America, a Jesuit missionary was +generally on the spot to make it. If geographical information was wanted, +eye-witnesses could write from India or Africa to state what was the exact +height of mountains or the real direction of rivers. The architectural +monuments of the great nations of antiquity could easily be explored and +described, and the literary treasures of India or China or Persia could be +ransacked by men ready for any work that required devotion and +perseverance, and that promised to throw additional splendor on the order +of Loyola. No missionary society has ever understood how to utilize its +resources in the interest of science like the Jesuits; and if our own +missionaries may on many points take warning from the history of the +Jesuits, on that one point at least they might do well to imitate their +example. + +Scientific interests, however, were by no means the chief motive of the +Jesuits in founding their journal, and the controversial character began +soon to preponderate in their articles. Protestant writers received but +little mercy in the pages of the “Journal de Trévoux,” and the battle was +soon raging in every country of Europe between the flying batteries of the +Jesuits and the strongholds of Jansenism, of Protestantism, or of liberal +thought in general. Le Clerc was attacked for his “Harmonia Evangelica;” +Boileau even was censured for his “Epître sur l’Amour de Dieu.” But the +old lion was too much for his reverend satirists. The following is a +specimen of his reply:— + +“Mes Révérends Pères en Dieu, +Et mes confrères en Satire. +Dans vos Escrits dans plus d’un lieu +Je voy qu’à mes dépens vous affectés de rire; +Mais ne craignés-vous point, que pour rire de Vous, +Relisant Juvénal, refeuilletant Horace, +Je ne ranime encor ma satirique audace? +Grands Aristarques de Trévoux, +N’allés point de nouveau faire courir aux armes, +Un athlète tout prest à prendre son congé, +Qui par vos traits malins au combat rengagé +Peut encore aux Rieurs faire verser des larmes. +Apprenés un mot de Régnier, +Notre célèbre Devancier, +_Corsaires attaquant Corsaires_ +_No font pas_, dit-il, _leurs affaires_.” + +Even stronger language than this became soon the fashion in journalistic +warfare. In reply to an attack on the Marquis Orsi, the “Giornale de’ +Letterati d’Italia” accused the “Journal de Trévoux” of _menzogna_ and +_impostura_, and in Germany the “Acta Eruditorum Lipsiensium” poured out +even more violent invectives against the Jesuitical critics. It is +wonderful how well Latin seems to lend itself to the expression of angry +abuse. Few modern writers have excelled the following tirade, either in +Latin or in German:— + + + “Quæ mentis stupiditas! At si qua est, Jesuitarum est.... Res est + intoleranda, Trevoltianos Jesuitas, toties contusos, iniquissimum + in suis diariis tribunal erexisse, in eoque non ratione duce, sed + animi impotentia, non æquitatis legibus, sed præjudiciis, non + veritatis lance, sed affectus aut odi pondere, optimis + exquisitissimisque operibus detrahere, pessima ad cœlum usque + laudibus efferre: ignaris auctoribus, modo secum sentiant, aut + sibi faveant, ubique blandiri, doctissimos sibi non plane pleneque + deditos plus quam canino dente mordere.” + + +What has been said of other journals was said of the “Journal de +Trévoux:”— + + + “Les auteurs de ce journal, qui a son mérite, sont constants à + louer tous les ouvrages de ceux qu’ils affectionnent, et pour + éviter une froide monotonie, ils exercent quelquefois la critique + sur les écrivans à qui rien ne les oblige de faire grâce.” + + +It took some time before authors became at all reconciled to these new +tribunals of literary justice. Even a writer like Voltaire, who braved +public opinion more than anybody, looked upon journals, and the influence +which they soon gained in France and abroad, as a great evil. “Rien n’a +plus nui à la littérature,” he writes, “plus répandu le mauvais goût, et +plus confondu le vrai avec le faux.” Before the establishment of literary +journals, a learned writer had indeed little to fear. For a few years, at +all events, he was allowed to enjoy the reputation of having published a +book; and this by itself was considered a great distinction by the world +at large. Perhaps his book was never noticed at all, or, if it was, it was +only criticised in one of those elaborate letters which the learned men of +the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries used to write to each other, which +might be forwarded indeed to one or two other professors, but which never +influenced public opinion. Only in extreme cases a book would be answered +by another book, but this would necessarily require a long time; nor would +it at all follow that those who had read and admired the original work +would have an opportunity of consulting the volume that contained its +refutation. This happy state of things came to an end after the year 1655. +Since the invention of printing, no more important event had happened in +the republic of letters than the introduction of a periodical literature. +It was a complete revolution, differing from other revolutions only by the +quickness with which the new power was recognized even by its fiercest +opponents. + +The power of journalism, however, soon found its proper level, and the +history of its rise and progress, which has still to be written, teaches +the same lesson as the history of political powers. Journals which +defended private interests, or the interests of parties, whether +religious, political, or literary, never gained that influence which was +freely conceded to those who were willing to serve the public at large in +pointing out real merit wherever it could be found, and in unmasking +pretenders, to whatever rank they might belong. The once all-powerful +organ of the Jesuits, the “Journal de Trèvoux,” has long ceased to exist, +and even to be remembered; the “Journal des Savants” still holds, after +more than two hundred years, that eminent position which was claimed for +it by its founder, as the independent advocate of justice and truth. + +1866. + + + + + +IX. CHASOT.(33) + + +History is generally written _en face_. It reminds us occasionally of +certain royal family pictures, where the centre is occupied by the king +and queen, while their children are ranged on each side like organ-pipes, +and the courtiers and ministers are grouped behind, according to their +respective ranks. All the figures seem to stare at some imaginary +spectator, who would require at least a hundred eyes to take in the whole +of the assemblage. This place of the imaginary spectator falls generally +to the lot of the historian, and of those who read great historical works; +and perhaps this is inevitable. But it is refreshing for once to change +this unsatisfactory position, and, instead of always looking straight in +the faces of kings, and queens, and generals, and ministers, to catch, by +a side-glance, a view of the times, as they appeared to men occupying a +less central and less abstract position than that of the general +historian. If we look at the Palace of Versailles from the terrace in +front of the edifice, we are impressed with its broad magnificence, but we +are soon tired, and all that is left in our memory is a vast expanse of +windows, columns, statues, and wall. But let us retire to some of the +_bosquets_ on each side of the main avenue, and take a diagonal view of +the great mansion of Louis XIV., and though we lose part of the palace, +the whole picture gains in color and life, and it brings before our mind +the figure of the great monarch himself, so fond of concealing part of his +majestic stateliness under the shadow of those very groves where we are +sitting. + +It was a happy thought of M. Kurd von Schlözer to try a similar experiment +with Frederic the Great, and to show him to us, not as the great king, +looking history in the face, but as seen near and behind another person, +for whom the author has felt so much sympathy as to make him the central +figure of a very pretty historical picture. This person is Chasot. +Frederic used to say of him, _C’est le matador de ma jeunesse_,—a saying +which is not found in Frederic’s works, but which is nevertheless +authentic. One of the chief magistrates of the old Hanseatic town of +Lübeck, Syndicus Curtius,—the father, we believe, of the two distinguished +scholars, Ernst and Georg Curtius,—was at school with the two sons of +Chasot, and he remembers these royal words, when they were repeated in all +the drawing-rooms of the city where Chasot spent many years of his life. +Frederic’s friendship for Chasot is well known, for there are two poems of +the king addressed to this young favorite. They do not give a very high +idea either of the poetical power of the monarch, or of the moral +character of his friend; but they contain some manly and straightforward +remarks, which make up for a great deal of shallow declamation. This young +Chasot was a French nobleman, a fresh, chivalrous, buoyant +nature,—adventurous, careless, extravagant, brave, full of romance, happy +with the happy, and galloping through life like a true cavalry officer. He +met Frederic in 1734. Louis XV. had taken up the cause of Stanislas +Lesczynski, King of Poland, his father-in-law, and Chasot served in the +French army which, under the Duke of Berwick, attacked Germany on the +Rhine, in order to relieve Poland from the simultaneous pressure of +Austria and Russia. He had the misfortune to kill a French officer in a +duel, and was obliged to take refuge in the camp of the old Prince Eugène. +Here the young Prince of Prussia soon discovered the brilliant parts of +the French nobleman, and when his father, Frederic William I., no longer +allowed him to serve under Eugène, he asked Chasot to follow him to +Prussia. The years from 1735 to 1740 were happy years for the prince, +though he, no doubt, would have preferred taking an active part in the +campaign. He writes to his sister:— + + + “J’aurais répondu plus tôt, si je n’avais été très-affligé de ce + que le roi ne veut pas me permettre d’aller en campagne. Je le lui + ai demandé quatre fois, et lui ai rappelé la promesse qu’il m’en + avait faite; mais point de nouvelle; il m’a dit qu’il avait des + raisons très-cachées qui l’en empêchaient. Je le crois, car je + suis persuadé qu’il ne les sait pas lui-même.” + + +But, as he wished to be on good terms with his father, he stayed at home, +and travelled about to inspect his future kingdom. “C’est un peu plus +honnête qu’en Sibérie,” he writes, “mais pas de beaucoup.” Frederic, after +his marriage, took up his abode in the Castle of Rheinsberg, near +Neu-Ruppin, and it was here that he spent the happiest part of his +existence. M. de Schlözer has described this period in the life of the +king with great art; and he has pointed out how Frederic, while he seemed +to live for nothing but pleasure,—shooting, dancing, music, and +poetry,—was given at the same time to much more serious +occupations,—reading and composing works on history, strategy, and +philosophy, and maturing plans which, when the time of their execution +came, seemed to spring from his head full-grown and full-armed. He writes +to his sister, the Markgravine of Baireuth, in 1737:— + + + “Nous nous divertissons de rien, et n’avons aucun soin des choses + de la vie, qui la rendent désagréable et qui jettent du dégoût sur + les plaisirs. Nous faisons la tragédie et la comédie, nous avons + bal, mascarade, et musique à toute sauce. Voilà un abrégé de nos + amusements.” + + +And again, he writes to his friend Suhm, at Petersburg:— + + + “Nous allons représenter l’_Œdipe_ de Voltaire, dans lequel je + ferai le héros de théâtre; j’ai choisi le rôle de Philoctéte.” + + +A similar account of the royal household at Rheinsberg is given by +Bielfeld:— + + + “C’est ainsi que les jours s’écoulent ici dans une tranquillité + assaisonneé de tous les plaisirs qui peuvent flatter une âme + raisonnable. Chère de roi, vin des dieux, musique des anges, + promenades délicieuses dans les jardins et dans les bois, parties + sur l’eau, culture des lettres et des beaux-arts, conversation + spirituelle, tout concourt à repandre dans ce palais enchanté des + charmes sur la vie.” + + +Frederic, however, was not a man to waste his time in mere pleasure. He +shared in the revelries of his friends, but he was perhaps the only person +at Rheinsberg who spent his evenings in reading Wolff’s “Metaphysics.” And +here let us remark, that this German prince, in order to read that work, +was obliged to have the German translated into French by his friend Suhm, +the Saxon minister at Petersburg. Chasot, who had no very definite duties +to perform at Rheinsberg, was commissioned to copy Suhm’s manuscript,—nay, +he was nearly driven to despair when he had to copy it a second time, +because Frederic’s monkey, Mimi, had set fire to the first copy. We have +Frederic’s opinion on Wolff’s “Metaphysics,” in his “Works,” vol. i. p. +263:— + + + “Les universités prosperaient en même temps. Halle et Francfort + étaient fournies de savants professeurs: Thomasius, Gundling, + Ludewig, Wolff, et Stryke tenaient le premier rang pour la + célébrité et faisaient nombre de disciples. Wolff commenta + l’ingénieux système de Leibnitz sur les monades, et noya dans un + déluge de paroles, d’arguments, de corollaires, et de citations, + quelques problèmes que Leibnitz avait jetées peut-être comme une + amorce aux métaphysiciens. Le professeur de Halle écrivait + laborieusement nombre de volumes, qui, au lieu de pouvoir + instruire des hommes faits, servirent tout au plus de catéchisme + de didactique pour des enfants. Les monades ont mis aux prises les + métaphysiciens et les géomêtres d’Allemagne, et ils disputent + encore sur la divisibilité de la matière.” + + +In another place, however, he speaks of Wolff with greater respect, and +acknowledges his influence in the German universities. Speaking of the +reign of his father, he writes:— + + + “Mais la faveur et les brigues remplissaient les chaires de + professeurs dans les universités; les dévots, qui se mêlent de + tout, acquirent une part à la direction des universités; ils y + persécutaient le bon sens, et surtout la classe des philosophes: + Wolff fut exilé pour avoir dèduit avec un ordre admirable les + preuves sur l’existence de Dieu. La jeune noblesse qui se vouait + aux armes, crût déroger en étudiant, et comme l’esprit humain + donne toujours dans les excès, ils regardèrent l’ignorance comme + un titre de mérite, et le savoir comme une pédanterie absurde.” + + +During the same time, Frederic composed his “Refutation of Macchiavelli,” +which was published in 1740, and read all over Europe; and besides the gay +parties of the court, he organized the somewhat mysterious society of the +_Ordre de Bayard_, of which his brothers, the Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick, +the Duke Wilhelm of Brunswick-Bevern, Keyserling, Fouqué, and Chasot, were +members. Their meetings had reference to serious political matters, though +Frederic himself was never initiated by his father into the secrets of +Prussian policy till almost on his death-bed. The king died in 1740, and +Frederic was suddenly called away from his studies and pleasures at +Rheinsberg, to govern a rising kingdom which was watched with jealousy by +all its neighbors. He describes his state of mind, shortly before the +death of his father, in the following words:— + + + “Vous pouvez bien juger que je suis assez tracassé dans la + situation où je me trouve. On me laisse peu de repos, mais + l’intérieur est tranquille, et je puis vous assurer que je n’ai + jamais été plus philosophe qu’en cette occasion-ci. Je regards + avec des yeux d’indifférence tout ce qui m’attend, sans désirer la + fortune ni la craindre, plein de compassion pour ceux qui + souffrent, d’estime pour les honnêtes gens, et de tendresse pour + mes amis.” + + +As soon, however as he had mastered his new position, the young king was +again the patron of art, of science, of literature, and of social +improvements of every kind. Voltaire had been invited to Berlin, to +organize a French theatre, when suddenly the news of the death of Charles +VI., the Emperor of Germany, arrived at Berlin. How well Frederic +understood what was to follow, we learn from a letter to Voltaire:— + + + “Mon cher Voltaire,—L’événement le moins prévu du monde m’empêche, + pour cette fois, d’ouvrir mon âme à la vôtre comme d’ordinaire, et + de bavarder comme je le voudrais. L’empereur est mort. Cette mort + dérange toutes mes idées pacifiques, et je crois qu’il s’agira, au + mois de juin, plutôt de poudre à canon, de soldats, de tranchées, + que d’actrices, de ballets et de théâtre.” + + +He was suffering from fever, and he adds:— + + + “Je vais faire passer ma fièvre, car j’ai besoin de ma machine, et + il en faut tirer à présent tout le parti possible.” + + +Again he writes to Algarotti:— + + + “Une bagatelle comme est la mort de l’empereur ne demande pas de + grands mouvements. Tout était prévu, tout était arrangé. Ainsi il + ne s’agit que d’exécuter des desseins que j’ai roulés depuis long + temps dans ma tête.” + + +We need not enter into the history of the first Silesian war; but we see +clearly from these expressions, that the occupation of Silesia, which the +house of Brandenburg claimed by right, had formed part of the policy of +Prussia long before the death of the emperor; and the peace of Breslau, in +1742, realized a plan which had probably been the subject of many debates +at Rheinsberg. During this first war, Chasot obtained the most brilliant +success. At Mollwitz, he saved the life of the king; and the following +account of this exploit was given to M. de Schlözer by members of Chasot’s +family: An Austrian cavalry officer, with some of his men, rode up close +to the king. Chasot was near. “Where is the king?” the officer shouted; +and Chasot, perceiving the imminent danger, sprang forward, declared +himself to be the king, and sustained for some time single-handed the most +violent combat with the Austrian soldiers. At last he was rescued by his +men, but not without having received a severe wound across his forehead. +The king thanked him, and Voltaire afterwards celebrated his bravery in +the following lines:— + +“Il me souvient encore de ce jour mémorable +Où l’illustre Chasot, ce guerrier formidable, +Sauva par sa valeur le plus grand de nos rois. +O Prusse! élève un temple à ses fameux exploits.” + +Chasot soon rose to the rank of major, and received large pecuniary +rewards from the king. The brightest event, however, of his life was still +to come; and this was the battle of Hohenfriedberg, in 1745. In spite of +Frederic’s successes, his position before that engagement was extremely +critical. Austria had concluded a treaty with England, Holland and Saxony +against Prussia. France declined to assist Frederic, Russia threatened to +take part against him. On the 19th of April, the king wrote to his +minister:— + + + “La situation présente est aussi violente que désagréable. Mon + parti est tout pris. S’il s’agit de se battre, nous le ferons en + désespérés. Enfin, jamais crise n’a été plus grande que la mienne. + Il faut laisser au temps de débrouiller cette fusée, et au destin, + s’il y en a un, à décider de l’événement.” + + +And again:— + + + “J’ai jeté le bonnet pardessus les moulins; je me prépare à tous + les événements qui peuvent m’arriver. Que la fortune me soit + contraire ou favorable, cela ne m’abaissera ni m’enorgueillira; et + s’il faut périr, ce sera avec gloire et l’épée à la main.” + + +The decisive day arrived—“le jour le plus décisif de ma fortune.” The +night before the battle, the king said to the French ambassador—“Les +ennemis sont où je les voulais, et je les attaque demain;” and on the +following day the battle of Hohenfriedberg was won. How Chasot +distinguished himself, we may learn from Frederic’s own description:— + +“Muse dis-moi, comment en ces moments +Chasot brilla, faisant voler des têtes, +De maints uhlans faisant de vrais squelettes, +Et des hussards, devant lui s’echappant, +Fandant les uns, les autres transperçant, +Et, maniant sa flamberge tranchante, +Mettait en fuite, et donnait l’épouvante +Aux ennemis effarés et tremblants. +Tel Jupiter est peint armé du foudre, +Et tel Chasot réduit l’uhlan en poudre.” + +In his account of the battle, the king wrote:— + + + “Action inouie dans l’histoire, et dont le succès est dû aux + Généraux Gessler et Schmettau, au Colonel Schwerin _et au brave + Major Chasot, dont la valeur et la conduite se sont fait connaître + dans trois batailles également_.” + + +And in his “Histoire de mon Temps,” he wrote:— + + + “Un fait aussi rare, aussi glorieux, mérite d’être écrit en + lettres d’or dans les fastes prussiens. Le Général Schwerin, _le + Major Chasot_ et beaucoup d’officiers s’y firent un nom immortel.” + + +How, then, is it that, in the later edition of Frederic’s “Histoire de mon +Temps,” the name of Chasot is erased? How is it that, during the whole of +the Seven Years’ War, Chasot is never mentioned? M. de Schlözer gives us a +complete answer to this question, and we must say that Frederic did not +behave well to the _matador de sa jeunesse_. Chasot had a duel with a +Major Bronickowsky, in which his opponent was killed. So far as we can +judge from the documents which M. de Schlözer has obtained from Chasot’s +family, Chasot had been forced to fight; but the king believed that he had +sought a quarrel with the Polish officer, and, though a court-martial +found him not guilty, Frederic sent him to the fortress of Spandau. This +was the first estrangement between Chasot and the king; and though after a +time he was received again at court, the friendship between the king and +the young nobleman who had saved his life had received a rude shock. + +Chasot spent the next few years in garrison at Treptow; and, though he was +regularly invited by Frederic to be present at the great festivities at +Berlin, he seems to have been a more constant visitor at the small court +of the Duchess of Strelitz, not far from his garrison, than at Potsdam. +The king employed him on a diplomatic mission, and in this also Chasot was +successful. But notwithstanding the continuance of this friendly +intercourse, both parties felt chilled, and the least misunderstanding was +sure to lead to a rupture. The king, jealous perhaps of Chasot’s frequent +visits at Strelitz, and not satisfied with the drill of his regiment, +expressed himself in strong terms about Chasot at a review in 1751. The +latter asked for leave of absence in order to return to his country and +recruit his health. He had received fourteen wounds in the Prussian +service, and his application could not be refused. There was another cause +of complaint, on which Chasot seems to have expressed himself freely. He +imagined that Frederic had not rewarded his services with sufficient +liberality. He expressed himself in the following words:— + + + “Je ne sais quel malheureux guignon poursuit le roi: mais ce + guignon se reproduit dans tout ce que sa majesté entrepend ou + ordonne. Toujours ses vues sont bonnes, ses plans sont sages, + réfléchis et justes; et toujours le succès est nul ou + très-imparfait, et pourquoi? Toujours pour la même cause! parce + qu’il manque un louis à l’exécution! un louis de plus, et tout + irait à merveille. Son guignon veut que partout il retienne ce + maudit louis; et tout se fait mal.” + + +How far this is just, we are unable to say. Chasot was reckless about +money, and whatever the king might have allowed him, he would always have +wanted one louis more. But on the other hand, Chasot was not the only +person who complained of Frederic’s parsimony; and the French proverb, “On +ne peut pas travailler pour le roi de Prusse,” probably owes its origin to +the complaints of Frenchmen who flocked to Berlin at that time in great +numbers, and returned home disappointed. Chasot went to France, where he +was well received, and he soon sent an intimation to the king that he did +not mean to return to Berlin. In 1752 his name was struck off the Prussian +army-list. Frederic was offended, and the simultaneous loss of many +friends, who either died or left his court, made him _de mauvaise humeur_. +It is about this time that he writes to his sister:— + + + “J’étudie beaucoup, et cela me soulage réellement; mais lorsque + mon esprit fait des retours sur les temps passés, alors les plaies + du cœur se rouvrent et je regrette inutilement les pertes que j’ai + faites.” + + +Chasot, however, soon returned to Germany, and probably in order to be +near the court of Strelitz, took up his abode in the old free town of +Lübeck. He became a citizen of Lübeck in 1754, and in 1759 was made +commander of its militia. Here his life seems to have been very agreeable, +and he was treated with great consideration and liberality. Chasot was +still young, as he was born in 1716, and he now thought of marriage. This +he accomplished in the following manner. There was at that time an artist +of some celebrity at Lübeck,—Stefano Torelli. He had a daughter whom he +had left at Dresden to be educated, and whose portrait he carried about on +his snuff-box. Chasot met him at dinner, saw the snuff-box, fell in love +with the picture, and proposed to the father to marry his daughter +Camilla. Camilla was sent for. She left Dresden, travelled through the +country, which was then occupied by Prussian troops, met the king in his +camp, received his protection, arrived safely at Lübeck, and in the same +year was married to Chasot. Frederic was then in the thick of the Seven +Years’ War, but Chasot, though he was again on friendly terms with the +king, did not offer him his sword. He was too happy at Lübeck with his +Camilla, and he made himself useful to the king by sending him recruits. +One of the recruits he offered was his son, and in a letter, April 8, +1760, we see the king accepting this young recruit in the most gracious +terms:— + + + “J’accepte volontiers, cher de Chasot, la recrue qui vous doit son + être, et je serai parrain de l’enfant qui vous naîtra, au cas que + ce soit un fils. Nous tuons les hommes, tandis que vous en + faites.” + + +It was a son, and Chasot writes:— + + + “Si ce garçon me ressemble, Sire, il n’aura pas une goutte de sang + dans ses veines qui ne soit à vous.” + + +M. de Schlözer, who is himself a native of Lübeck, has described the later +years of Chasot’s life in that city with great warmth and truthfulness. +The diplomatic relations of the town with Russia and Denmark were not +without interest at that time, because Peter III., formerly Duke of +Holstein, had declared war against Denmark in order to substantiate his +claims to the Danish crown. Chasot had actually the pleasure of fortifying +Lübeck, and carrying on preparations for war on a small scale, till Peter +was dethroned by his wife, Catherine. All this is told in a very +comprehensive and luminous style; and it is not without regret that we +find ourselves in the last chapter, where M. de Schlözer describes the +last meetings of Chasot and Frederic in 1779, 1784, and 1785. Frederic had +lost nearly all his friends, and he was delighted to see the _matador de +sa jeunesse_ once more. He writes:— + + + “Une chose qui n’est presque arrivée qu’à moi est que j’ai perdu + tous mes amis de cœur et mes anciennes connaissances; ce sont des + plaies dont le cœur saigne long-temps, que la philosophie apaise, + mais que sa main ne saurait guérir.” + + +How pleasant for the king to find at least one man with whom he could talk +of the old days of Rheinsberg,—of Fräulein von Schack and Fräulein von +Walmoden, of Cæsarion and Jordan, of Mimi and le Tourbillon! Chasot’s two +sons entered the Prussian service, though, in the manner in which they are +received, we find Frederic again acting more as king than as friend. +Chasot in 1784 was still as lively as ever, whereas the king: was in bad +health. The latter writes to his old friend, “Si nous ne nous revoyons +bientôt, nous ne nous reverrons jamais;” and when Chasot had arrived, +Frederic writes to Prince Heinrich, “Chasot est venu ici de Lübeck; il ne +parle que de mangeaille, de vins de Champagne, du Rhin, de Madère, de +Hongrie, et du faste de messieurs les marchands de la bourse de Lübeck.” + +Such was the last meeting of these two knights of the _Ordre de Bayard_. +The king died in 1786, without seeing the approach of the revolutionary +storm which was soon to upset the throne of the Bourbons. Chasot died in +1797. He began to write his memoirs in 1789, and it is to some of their +fragments, which had been preserved by his family, and were handed over to +M. Kurd de Schlözer, that we owe this delightful little book. Frederic the +Great used to complain that Germans could not write history:— + + + “Ce siècle ne produisit aucun bon historien. On chargea Teissier + d’écrire l’histoire de Brandebourg: il en fit le panégyrique. + Pufendorf écrivit la vie de Frédéric-Guillaume, et, pour ne rien + omettre, il n’oublia ni ses clercs de chancellerie, ni ses valets + de chambre dont il put recueillir les noms. Nos auteurs ont, ce me + semble, toujours péché, faute de discerner les choses essentielles + des accessoires, d’éclaircir les faits, de reserrer leur prose + traînante et excessivement sujette aux inversions, aux nombreuses + épithètes, et d’écrire en pédants plutôt qu’en hommes de génie.” + + +We believe that Frederic would not have said this of a work like that of +M. de Schlözer; and as to Chasot, it is not too much to say that, after +the days of Mollwitz and Hohenfriedberg, the day on which M. de Schlözer +undertook to write his biography was perhaps the most fortunate for his +fame. + +1856. + + + + + +X. SHAKESPEARE.(34) + + +The city of Frankfort, the birthplace of Goethe, sends her greeting to the +city of Stratford-on-Avon, the birthplace of Shakespeare. The old free +town of Frankfort, which, since the days of Frederick Barbarossa, has seen +the Emperors of Germany crowned within her walls, might well at all times +speak in the name of Germany. But to-day she sends her greeting, not as +the proud mother of German Emperors, but as the prouder mother of the +greatest among the poets of Germany; and it is from the very house in +which Goethe lived, and which has since become the seat of “the Free +German Institute for Science and Art,” that this message of the German +admirers and lovers of Shakespeare has been sent, which I am asked to +present to you, the Mayor and Council of Stratford-on-Avon. + +When honor was to be done to the memory of Shakespeare, Germany could not +be absent, for next to Goethe and Schiller there is no poet so truly loved +by us, so thoroughly our own, as your Shakespeare. He is no stranger with +us, no mere classic, like Homer, or Virgil, or Dante, or Corneille, whom +we admire as we admire a marble statue. He has become one of ourselves, +holding his own place in the history of our literature, applauded in our +theatres, read in our cottages, studied, known, loved, “as far as sounds +the German tongue.” There is many a student in Germany who has learned +English solely in order to read Shakespeare in the original, and yet we +possess a translation of Shakespeare with which few translations of any +work can vie in any language. What we in Germany owe to Shakespeare must +be read in the history of our literature. Goethe was proud to call himself +a pupil of Shakespeare. I shall at this moment allude to one debt of +gratitude only which Germany owes to the poet of Stratford-on-Avon. I do +not speak of the poet only, and of his art, so perfect because so artless; +I think of the man with his large, warm heart, with his sympathy for all +that is genuine, unselfish, beautiful, and good; with his contempt for all +that is petty, mean, vulgar, and false. It is from his plays that our +young men in Germany form their first ideas of England and the English +nation, and in admiring and loving him we have learned to admire and to +love you who may proudly call him your own. And it is right that this +should be so. As the height of the Alps is measured by Mont Blanc, let the +greatness of England be measured by the greatness of Shakespeare. Great +nations make great poets, great poets make great nations. Happy the nation +that possesses a poet like Shakespeare. Happy the youth of England whose +first ideas of this world in which they are to live are taken from his +pages. The silent influence of Shakespeare’s poetry on millions of young +hearts in England, in Germany, in all the world, shows the almost +superhuman power of human genius. If we look at that small house, in a +small street of a small town of a small island, and then think of the +world-embracing, world-quickening, world-ennobling spirit that burst forth +from that small garret, we have learned a lesson and carried off a +blessing for which no pilgrimage would have been too long. Though the +great festivals which in former days brought together people from all +parts of Europe to worship at the shrine of Canterbury exist no more, let +us hope, for the sake of England, more even than for the sake of +Shakespeare, that this will not be the last Shakespeare festival in the +annals of Stratford-on-Avon. In this cold and critical age of ours the +power of worshipping, the art of admiring, the passion of loving what is +great and good are fast dying out. May England never be ashamed to show to +the world that she can love, that she can admire, that she can worship the +greatest of her poets! May Shakespeare live on in the love of each +generation that grows up in England! May the youth of England long +continue to be nursed, to be fed, to be reproved and judged by his spirit! +With that nation—that truly English, because truly Shakespearian +nation—the German nation will always be united by the strongest +sympathies; for, superadded to their common blood, their common religion, +their common battles and victories, they will always have in Shakespeare a +common teacher, a common benefactor, and a common friend. + +_April, 1864._ + + + + + +XI. BACON IN GERMANY.(35) + + +“If our German philosophy is considered in England and in France as German +dreaming, we ought not to render evil for evil, but rather to prove the +groundlessness of such accusations by endeavoring ourselves to appreciate, +without any prejudice, the philosophers of France and England, such as +they are, and doing them that justice which they deserve; especially as, +in scientific subjects, injustice means ignorance.” With these words M. +Kuno Fischer introduces his work on Bacon to the German public; and what +he says is evidently intended, not as an attack upon the conceit of +French, and the exclusiveness of English philosophers, but rather as an +apology which the author feels that he owes to his own countrymen. It +would seem, indeed, as if a German was bound to apologize for treating +Bacon as an equal of Leibnitz, Kant, Hegel, and Schelling. Bacon’s name is +never mentioned by German writers without some proviso that it is only by +a great stretch of the meaning of the word, or by courtesy, that he can be +called a philosopher. His philosophy, it is maintained, ends where all +true philosophy begins; and his style or method has frequently been +described as unworthy of a systematic thinker. Spinoza, who has exercised +so great an influence on the history of thought in Germany, was among the +first who spoke slightingly of the inductive philosopher. When treating of +the causes of error, he writes, “What he (Bacon) adduces besides, in order +to explain error, can easily be traced back to the Cartesian theory; it is +this, that the human will is free and more comprehensive than the +understanding, or, as Bacon expresses himself in a more confused manner, +in the forty-ninth aphorism, ‘The human understanding is not a pure light, +but obscured by the will.’ ” In works on the general history of +philosophy, German authors find it difficult to assign any place to Bacon. +Sometimes he is classed with the Italian school of natural philosophy, +sometimes he is contrasted with Jacob Boehme. He is named as one of the +many who helped to deliver mankind from the thralldom of scholasticism. +But any account of what he really was, what he did to immortalize his +name, and to gain that prominent position among his own countrymen which +he has occupied to the present day, we should look for in vain even in the +most complete and systematic treatises on the history of philosophy +published in Germany. Nor does this arise from any wish to depreciate the +results of English speculation in general. On the contrary, we find that +Hobbes, Locke, Berkeley, and Hume are treated with great respect. They +occupy well-marked positions in the progress of philosophic thought. Their +names are written in large letters on the chief stations through which the +train of human reasoning passed before it arrived at Kant and Hegel. +Locke’s philosophy took for a time complete possession of the German mind, +and called forth some of the most important and decisive writings of +Leibnitz; and Kant himself owed his commanding position to the battle +which he fought and won against Hume. Bacon alone has never been either +attacked or praised, nor have his works, as it seems, ever been studied +very closely by Germans. As far as we can gather, their view of Bacon and +of English philosophy is something as follows. Philosophy, they say, +should account for experience; but Bacon took experience for granted. He +constructed a cyclopædia of knowledge, but he never explained what +knowledge itself was. Hence philosophy, far from being brought to a close +by his “Novum Organon,” had to learn again to make her first steps +immediately after his time. Bacon had built a magnificent palace, but it +was soon found that there was no staircase in it. The very first question +of all philosophy, “How do we know?” or, “How can we know?” had never been +asked by him. Locke, who came after him, was the first to ask it, and he +endeavored to answer it in his “Essay concerning Human Understanding.” The +result of his speculations was, that the mind is a _tabula rasa_, that +this _tabula rasa_ becomes gradually filled with sensuous perceptions, and +that these sensuous perceptions arrange themselves into classes, and thus +give rise to more general ideas or conceptions. This was a step in +advance; but there was again one thing taken for granted by Locke,—the +perceptions. This led to the next step in English philosophy, which was +made by Berkeley. He asked the question, “What are perceptions?” and he +answered it boldly: “Perceptions are the things themselves, and the only +cause of these perceptions is God.” But this bold step was in reality but +a bold retreat. Hume accepted the results both of Locke and Berkeley. He +admitted with Locke that the impressions of the senses are the source of +all knowledge; he admitted with Berkeley that we know nothing beyond the +impressions of our senses. But when Berkeley speaks of the cause of these +impressions, Hume points out that we have no right to speak of anything +like cause and effect, and that the idea of causality, of necessary +sequence, on which the whole fabric of our reasoning rests, is an +assumption; inevitable, it may be, yet an assumption. Thus English +philosophy, which seemed to be so settled and positive in Bacon, ended in +the most unsettled and negative skepticism in Hume; and it was only +through Kant that, according to the Germans, the great problem was solved +at last, and men again knew _how_ they knew. + +From this point of view, which we believe to be that generally taken by +German writers of the historical progress of modern philosophy, we may +well understand why the star of Bacon should disappear almost below their +horizon. And if those only are to be called philosophers who inquire into +the causes of our knowledge, or into the possibility of knowing and being, +a new name must be invented for men like him, who are concerned alone with +the realities of knowledge. The two are antipodes,—they inhabit two +distinct hemispheres of thought. But German Idealism, as M. Kuno Fischer +says, would have done well if it had become more thoroughly acquainted +with its opponent:— + + + “And if it be objected,” he says, “that the points of contact + between German and English philosophy, between Idealism and + Realism, are less to be found in Bacon than in other philosophers + of his kind; that it was not Bacon, but Hume, who influenced Kant; + that it was not Bacon, but Locke, who influenced Leibnitz; that + Spinoza, if he received any impulse at all from those quarters, + received it from Hobbes, and not from Bacon, of whom he speaks in + several places very contemptuously,—I answer, that it was Bacon + whom Des Cartes, the acknowledged founder of dogmatic Idealism, + chose for his antagonist. And as to those realistic philosophers + who have influenced the opposite side of philosophy in Spinoza, + Leibnitz, and Kant, I shall be able to prove that Hobbes, Locke, + Hume, are all descendants of Bacon, that they have their roots in + Bacon, that without Bacon they cannot be truly explained and + understood, but only be taken up in a fragmentary form, and, as it + were, plucked off. Bacon is the creator of realistic philosophy. + Their age is but a development of the Baconian germs; every one of + their systems is a metamorphosis of Baconian philosophy. To the + present day, realistic philosophy has never had a greater genius + than Bacon, its founder; none who has manifested the truly + realistic spirit that feels itself at home in the midst of life, + in so comprehensive, so original and characteristic, so sober, and + yet at the same time so ideal and aspiring a manner; none, again, + in whom the limits of this spirit stand out in such distinct and + natural relief. Bacon’s philosophy is the most healthy and quite + inartificial expression of Realism. After the systems of Spinoza + and Leibnitz had moved me for a long time, had filled, and, as it + were, absorbed me, the study of Bacon was to me like a new life, + the fruits of which are gathered in this book.” + + +After a careful perusal of M. Fischer’s work, we believe that it will not +only serve in Germany as a useful introduction to the study of Bacon, but +that it will be read with interest and advantage by many persons in +England who are already acquainted with the chief works of the +philosopher. The analysis which he gives of Bacon’s philosophy is accurate +and complete; and, without indulging in any lengthy criticisms, he has +thrown much light on several important points. He first discusses the aim +of his philosophy, and characterizes it as Discovery in general, as the +conquest of nature by man (_Regnum hominis, interpretatio naturæ_). He +then enters into the means which it supplies for accomplishing this +conquest, and which consist chiefly in experience:— + + + “The chief object of Bacon’s philosophy is the establishment and + extension of the dominion of man. The means of accomplishing this + we may call culture, or the application of physical powers toward + human purposes. But there is no such culture without discovery, + which produces the means of culture; no discovery without science, + which understands the laws of nature; no science without natural + science; no natural science without an interpretation of nature; + and this can only be accomplished according to the measure of our + experience.” + + +M. Fischer then proceeds to discuss what he calls the negative or +destructive part of Bacon’s philosophy (_pars destruens_),—that is to say, +the means by which the human mind should be purified and freed from all +preconceived notions before it approaches the interpretation of nature. He +carries us through the long war which Bacon commenced against the idols of +traditional or scholastic science. We see how the _idola tribus_, the +_idola specus_, the _idola fori_, and the _idola theatri_, are destroyed +by his iconoclastic philosophy. After all these are destroyed, there +remains nothing but uncertainty and doubt; and it is in this state of +nudity, approaching very nearly to the _tabula rasa_ of Locke, that the +human mind should approach the new temple of nature. Here lies the radical +difference between Bacon and Des Cartes, between Realism and Idealism. Des +Cartes also, like Bacon, destroys all former knowledge. He proves that we +know nothing for certain. But after he has deprived the human mind of all +its imaginary riches, he does not lead it on, like Bacon, to a study of +nature, but to a study of itself as the only subject which can be known +for certain, _Cogito, ergo sum_. His philosophy leads to a study of the +fundamental laws of knowing and being; that of Bacon enters at once into +the gates of nature, with the innocence of a child (to use his own +expression) who enters the kingdom of God. Bacon speaks, indeed, of a +_Philosophia prima_ as a kind of introduction to Divine, Natural, and +Human Philosophy; but he does not discuss in this preliminary chapter the +problem of the possibility of knowledge, nor was it with him the right +place to do so. It was destined by him as a “receptacle for all such +profitable observations and axioms as fall not within the compass of the +special parts of philosophy or sciences, but are more common, and of a +higher stage.” He mentions himself some of these axioms, such as—“_Si +inæqualibus æqualia addas, omnia erunt inæqualia;_” “_Quæ in eodem tertio +conveniunt, et inter se conveniunt;_” “_Omnia mutantur, nil interit._” The +problem of the possibility of knowledge would generally be classed under +metaphysics; but what Bacon calls _Metaphysique_ is, with him, a branch of +philosophy treating only on Formal and Final Causes, in opposition to +_Physique_, which treats on Material and Efficient Causes. If we adopt +Bacon’s division of philosophy, we might still expect to find the +fundamental problem discussed in his chapter on Human Philosophy; but +here, again, he treats man only as a part of the continent of Nature, and +when he comes to consider the substance and nature of the soul or mind, he +declines to enter into this subject, because “the true knowledge of the +nature and state of soul must come by the same inspiration that gave the +substance.” There remains, therefore, but one place in Bacon’s cyclopædia +where we might hope to find some information on this subject,—namely, +where he treats on the faculties and functions of the mind, and in +particular, of understanding and reason. And here he dwells indeed on the +doubtful evidence of the senses as one of the causes of error so +frequently pointed out by other philosophers. But he remarks that, though +they charged the deceit upon the senses, their chief errors arose from a +different cause, from the weakness of their intellectual powers, and from +the manner of collecting and concluding upon the reports of the senses. +And he then points to what is to be the work of his life,—an improved +system of invention, consisting of the _Experientia Literata_, and the +_Interpretatio Naturæ_. + +It must be admitted, therefore, that one of the problems which has +occupied most philosophers,—nay, which, in a certain sense, may be called +the first impulse to all philosophy,—the question whether we can know +anything, is entirely passed over by Bacon; and we may well understand why +the name and title of philosopher has been withheld from one who looked +upon human knowledge as an art, but never inquired into its causes and +credentials. This is a point which M. Fischer has not overlooked; but he +has not always kept it in view, and in wishing to secure to Bacon his +place in the history of philosophy, he has deprived him of that more +exalted place which Bacon himself wished to occupy in the history of the +world. Among men like Locke, Hume, Kant, and Hegel, Bacon is, and always +will be, a stranger. Bacon himself would have drawn a very strong line +between their province and his own. He knows where their province lies; +and if he sometimes speaks contemptuously of formal philosophy, it is only +when formal philosophy has encroached on his own ground, or when it breaks +into the enclosure of revealed religion, which he wished to be kept +sacred. There, he holds, the human mind should not enter, except in the +attitude of the Semnones, with chained hands. + +Bacon’s philosophy could never supplant the works of Plato and Aristotle, +and though his method might prove useful in every branch of +knowledge,—even in the most abstruse points of logic and metaphysics,—yet +there has never been a Baconian school of philosophy, in the sense in +which we speak of the school of Locke or Kant. Bacon was above or below +philosophy. Philosophy, in the usual sense of the word, formed but a part +of his great scheme of knowledge. It had its place therein, side by side +with history, poetry, and religion. After he had surveyed the whole +universe of knowledge, he was struck by the small results that had been +obtained by so much labor, and he discovered the cause of this failure in +the want of a proper method of investigation and combination. The +substitution of a new method of invention was the great object of his +philosophical activity; and though it has been frequently said that the +Baconian method had been known long before Bacon, and had been practiced +by his predecessors with much greater success than by himself or his +immediate followers, it was his chief merit to have proclaimed it, and to +have established its legitimacy against all gainsayers. M. Fischer has +some very good remarks on Bacon’s method of induction, particularly on the +_instantiæ prærogativæ_ which, as he points out, though they show the +weakness of his system, exhibit at the same time the strength of his mind, +which rises above all the smaller considerations of systematic +consistency, where higher objects are at stake. + +M. Fischer devotes one chapter to Bacon’s relation to the ancient +philosophers, and another to his views on poetry. In the latter, he +naturally compares Bacon with his contemporary, Shakespeare. We recommend +this chapter, as well as a similar one in a work on Shakespeare by +Gervinus, to the author of the ingenious discovery that Bacon was the real +author of Shakespeare’s plays. Besides an analysis of the constructive +part of Bacon’s philosophy, or the _Instauratio Magna_, M. Fischer gives +us several interesting chapters, in which he treats of Bacon as an +historical character, of his views on religion and theology, and of his +reviewers. His defense of Bacon’s political character is the weakest part +of his work. He draws an elaborate parallel between the spirit of Bacon’s +philosophy and the spirit of his public acts. Discovery, he says, was the +object of the philosopher; success that of the politician. But what can be +gained by such parallels? We admire Bacon’s ardent exertions for the +successful advancement of learning, but, if his acts for his own +advancement were blamable, no moralist, whatever notions he may hold on +the relation between the understanding and the will, would be swayed in +his judgment of Lord Bacon’s character by such considerations. We make no +allowance for the imitative talents of a tragedian, if he stands convicted +of forgery, nor for the courage of a soldier, if he is accused of murder. +Bacon’s character can only be judged by the historian, and by a careful +study of the standard of public morality in Bacon’s times. And the same +may be said of the position which he took with regard to religion and +theology. We may explain his inclination to keep religion distinct from +philosophy by taking into account the practical tendencies of all his +labors. But there is such a want of straightforwardness, and we might +almost say, of real faith, in his theological statements, that no one can +be surprised to find that, while he is taken as the representative of +orthodoxy by some, he has been attacked by others as the most dangerous +and insidious enemy of Christianity. Writers of the school of De Maistre +see in him a decided atheist and hypocrite. + +In a work on Bacon, it seems to have become a necessity to discuss Bacon’s +last reviewer, and M. Fischer therefore breaks a lance with Mr. Macaulay. +We give some extracts from this chapter (page 358 _seq._), which will +serve, at the same time, as a specimen of our author’s style:— + + + “Mr. Macaulay pleads unconditionally in favor of practical + philosophy, which he designates by the name of Bacon, against all + theoretical philosophy. We have two questions to ask: 1. What does + Mr. Macaulay mean by the contrast of practical and theoretical + philosophy, on which he dwells so constantly? and 2. What has his + own practical philosophy in common with that of Bacon? + + + “Mr. Macaulay decides on the fate of philosophy with a ready + formula, which, like many of the same kind, dazzles by means of + words which have nothing behind them,—words which become more + obscure and empty the nearer we approach them. He says, Philosophy + was made for Man, not Man for Philosophy. In the former case it is + practical; in the latter, theoretical. Mr. Macaulay embraces the + first, and rejects the second. He cannot speak with sufficient + praise of the one, nor with sufficient contempt of the other. + According to him, the Baconian philosophy is practical; the + pre-Baconian, and particularly the ancient philosophy, + theoretical. He carries the contrast between the two to the last + extreme, and he places it before our eyes, not in its naked form, + but veiled in metaphors, and in well-chosen figures of speech, + where the imposing and charming image always represents the + practical, the repulsive the theoretical, form of philosophy. By + this play he carries away the great mass of people, who, like + children, always run after images. Practical philosophy is not so + much a conviction with him, but it serves him to make a point; + whereas theoretical philosophy serves as an easy butt. Thus the + contrast between the two acquires a certain dramatic charm. The + reader feels moved and excited by the subject before him, and + forgets the scientific question. His fancy is caught by a kind of + metaphorical imagery, and his understanding surrenders what is due + to it.... What is Mr. Macaulay’s meaning in rejecting theoretical + philosophy, because philosophy is here the object, and man the + means; whereas he adopts practical philosophy, because man is here + the object, and philosophy the means? What do we gain by such + comparisons, as when he says that practical and theoretical + philosophy are like works and words, fruits and thorns, a + high-road and a treadmill? Such phrases always remind us of the + remark of Socrates: They are said indeed, but are they well and + truly said? According to the strict meaning of Mr. Macaulay’s + words, there never was a practical philosophy; for there never was + a philosophy which owed its origin to practical considerations + only. And there never was a theoretical philosophy, for there + never was a philosophy which did not receive its impulse from a + human want, that is to say, from a practical motive. This shows + where playing with words must always lead. He defines theoretical + and practical philosophy in such a manner that his definition is + inapplicable to any kind of philosophy. His antithesis is entirely + empty. But if we drop the antithesis, and only keep to what it + means in sober and intelligible language, it would come to + this,—that the value of a theory depends on its usefulness, on its + practical influence on human life, on the advantage which we + derive from it. Utility alone is to decide on the value of a + theory. Be it so. But who is to decide on utility? If all things + are useful which serve to satisfy human wants, who is to decide on + our wants? We take Mr. Macaulay’s own point of view. Philosophy + should be practical; it should serve man, satisfy his wants, or + help to satisfy them; and if it fails in this, let it be called + useless and hollow. But if there are wants in human nature which + demand to be satisfied, which make life a burden unless they are + satisfied, is that not to be called practical which answers to + these wants? And if some of them are of that peculiar nature that + they can only be satisfied by knowledge, or by theoretical + contemplation, is this knowledge, is this theoretical + contemplation, not useful,—useful even in the eyes of the most + decided Utilitarian? Might it not happen that what he calls + theoretical philosophy seems useless and barren to the + Utilitarian, because his ideas of men are too narrow? It is + dangerous, and not quite becoming, to lay down the law, and say + from the very first, ‘You must not have more than certain wants, + and therefore you do not want more than a certain philosophy!’ If + we may judge from Mr. Macaulay’s illustrations, his ideas of human + nature are not very liberal. ‘If we were forced,’ he says, ‘to + make our choice between the first shoemaker and Seneca, the author + of the books on Anger, we should pronounce for the shoemaker. It + may be worse to be angry than to be wet. But shoes have kept + millions from being wet; and we doubt whether Seneca ever kept + anybody from being angry.’ I should not select Seneca as the + representative of theoretical philosophy, still less take those + for my allies whom Mr. Macaulay prefers to Seneca, in order to + defeat theoretical philosophers. Brennus threw his sword into the + scale in order to make it more weighty. Mr. Macaulay prefers the + awl. But whatever he may think about Seneca, there is another + philosopher more profound than Seneca, but in Mr. Macaulay’s eyes + likewise an unpractical thinker. And yet in him the power of + theory was greater than the powers of nature and the most common + wants of man. His meditations alone gave Socrates his serenity + when he drank the fatal poison. Is there, among all evils, one + greater than the dread of death? And the remedy against this, the + worst of all physical evils, is it not practical in the best sense + of the word? True, some people might here say, that it would have + been more practical if Socrates had fled from his prison, as + Criton suggested, and had died an old and decrepit man in Bœotia. + But to Socrates it seemed more practical to remain in prison, and + to die as the first witness and martyr of the liberty of + conscience, and to rise from the sublime height of his theory to + the seats of the immortals. Thus it is the want of the individual + which decides on the practical value of an act or of a thought, + and this want depends on the nature of the human soul. There is a + difference between individuals in different ages, and there is a + difference in their wants.... As long as the desire after + knowledge lives in our hearts, we must, with the purely practical + view of satisfying this want, strive after knowledge in all + things, even in those which do not contribute towards external + comfort, and have no use except that they purify and invigorate + the mind.... What is theory in the eyes of Bacon? ‘A temple in the + human mind, according to the model of the world.’ What is it in + the eyes of Mr. Macaulay? A snug dwelling, according to the wants + of practical life. The latter is satisfied if knowledge is carried + far enough to enable us to keep ourselves dry. The magnificence of + the structure, and its completeness according to the model of the + world, is to him useless by-work, superfluous and even dangerous + luxury. This is the view of a respectable rate-payer, not of a + Bacon. Mr. Macaulay reduces Bacon to his own dimensions, while he + endeavors at the same time to exalt him above all other people.... + Bacon’s own philosophy was, like all philosophy, a theory; it was + the theory of the inventive mind. Bacon has not made any great + discoveries himself. He was less inventive than Leibnitz, the + German metaphysician. If to make discoveries be practical + philosophy, Bacon was a mere theorist, and his philosophy nothing + but the theory of practical philosophy.... How far the spirit of + theory reached in Bacon may be seen in his own works. He did not + want to fetter theory, but to renew and to extend it to the very + ends of the universe. His practical standard was not the comfort + of the individual, but human happiness, which involves theoretical + knowledge.... That Bacon is not the Bacon of Mr. Macaulay. What + Bacon wanted was new, and it will be eternal. What Mr. Macaulay + and many people at the present day want, in the name of Bacon, is + not new, but novel. New is what opposes the old, and serves as a + model for the future. Novel is what flatters our times, gains + sympathies, and dies away.... And history has pronounced her final + verdict. It is the last negative instance which we oppose to Mr. + Macaulay’s assertion. Bacon’s philosophy has not been the end of + all theories, but the beginning of new theories,—theories which + flowed necessarily from Bacon’s philosophy, and not one of which + was practical in Mr. Macaulay’s sense. Hobbes was the pupil of + Bacon. His ideal of a State is opposed to that of Plato on all + points. But one point it shares in common,—it is as unpractical a + theory as that of Plato. Mr. Macaulay, however, calls Hobbes the + most acute and vigorous spirit. If, then, Hobbes was a practical + philosopher, what becomes of Macaulay’s politics? And if Hobbes + was not a practical philosopher, what becomes of Mr. Macaulay’s + philosophy, which does homage to the theories of Hobbes?” + + +We have somewhat abridged M. Fischer’s argument, for, though he writes +well and intelligibly, he wants condensation; and we do not think that his +argument has been weakened by being shortened. What he has extended into a +volume of nearly five hundred pages, might have been reduced to a pithy +essay of one or two hundred, without sacrificing one essential fact, or +injuring the strength of any one of his arguments. The art of writing in +our times is the art of condensing; and those who cannot condense write +only for readers who have more time at their disposal than they know what +to do with. + +Let us ask one question in conclusion. Why do all German writers change +the thoroughly Teutonic name of Bacon into Baco? It is bad enough that we +should speak of Plato; but this cannot be helped. But unless we protest +against Baco, _gen._ Baconis, we shall soon be treated to Newto, Newtonis, +or even to Kans, Kantis. + +1857. + + + + + +XII. A GERMAN TRAVELLER IN ENGLAND.(36) + + +A. D. 1598. + +Lessing, when he was Librarian at Wolfenbüttel, proposed to start a review +which should only notice forgotten books,—books written before reviewing +was invented, published in the small towns of Germany, never read, +perhaps, except by the author and his friends, then buried on the shelves +of a library, properly labeled and catalogued, and never opened again, +except by an inquisitive inmate of these literary mausoleums. The number +of those forgotten books is great, and as in former times few authors +wrote more than one or two works during the whole of their lives, the +information which they contain is generally of a much more substantial and +solid kind than our literary palates are now accustomed to. If a man now +travels to the unexplored regions of Central Africa, his book is written +and out in a year. It remains on the drawing-room table for a season; it +is pleasant to read, easy to digest, and still easier to review and to +forget. Two or three hundred years ago this was very different. Travelling +was a far more serious business, and a man who had spent some years in +seeing foreign countries, could do nothing better than employ the rest of +his life in writing a book of travels, either in his own language, or, +still better, in Latin. After his death his book continued to be quoted +for a time in works on history and geography, till a new traveller went +over the same ground, published an equally learned book, and thus +consigned his predecessor to oblivion. Here is a case in point: Paul +Hentzner, a German, who, of course, calls himself Paulus Hentznerus, +travelled in Germany, France, England, and Italy; and after his return to +his native place in Silesia, he duly published his travels in a portly +volume, written in Latin. There is a long title-page, with dedications, +introductions, a preface for the _Lector benevolus_, Latin verses, and a +table showing what people ought to observe in travelling. Travelling, +according to our friend, is the source of all wisdom; and he quotes Moses +and the Prophets in support of his theory. We ought all to travel, he +says,—“vita nostra peregrinatio est;” and those who stay at home like +snails (_cochlearum instar_) will remain “inhumani, insolentes, superbi,” +etc. + +It would take a long time to follow Paulus Hentznerus through all his +peregrinations; but let us see what he saw in England. He arrived here in +the year 1598. He took ship with his friends at _Depa_, vulgo _Dieppe_, +and after a boisterous voyage, they landed at _Rye_. On their arrival they +were conducted to a _Notarius_, who asked their names, and inquired for +what object they came to England. After they had satisfied his official +inquiries, they were conducted to a _Diversorium_, and treated to a good +dinner, _pro regionis more_, according to the custom of the country. From +_Rye_ they rode to _London_, passing _Flimwolt_, _Tumbridge_, and +_Chepsted_ on their way. Then follows a long description of London, its +origin and history, its bridges, churches, monuments, and palaces, with +extracts from earlier writers, such as Paulus Jovius, Polydorus Vergilius, +etc. All inscriptions are copied faithfully, not only from tombs and +pictures, but also from books which the travellers saw in the public +libraries. Whitehall seems to have contained a royal library at that time, +and in it Hentzner saw, besides Greek and Latin MSS., a book written in +French by Queen Elizabeth, with the following dedication to Henry VIII.:— + + + “A Tres haut et Tres puissant et Redoubte Prince Henry VIII. de ce + nom, Roy d’Angleterre, de France, et d’Irlande, defenseur de la + foy, Elizabeth, sa Tres humble fille, rend salut et obedience.” + + +After the travellers had seen St. Paul’s, Westminster, the House of +Parliament, Whitehall, Guildhall, the Tower, and the Royal Exchange, +commonly called _Bursa_,—all of which are minutely described,—they went to +the theatres and to places _Ursorum et Taurorum venationibus destinata_, +where bears and bulls, tied fast behind, were baited by bull-dogs. In +these places, and everywhere, in fact, as our traveller says, where you +meet with Englishmen, they use _herba nicotiana_, which they call by an +American name _Tobaca_ or _Paetum_. The description deserves to be quoted +in the original:— + + + “Fistulæ in hunc finem ex argillâ factæ orificio posteriori dictam + herbam probe exiccatam, ita ut in pulverem facile redigi possit, + immittunt, et igne admoto accendunt, unde fumus ab anteriori parte + ore attrahitur, qui per nares rursum, tamquam per infurnibulum + exit, et phlegma ac capitis defluxiones magnâ copiâ secum educit.” + + +After they had seen everything in London—not omitting the ship in which +Francis Drake, _nobilissimus pyrata_, was said to have circumnavigated the +world,—they went to Greenwich. Here they were introduced into the +presence-chamber, and saw the Queen. The walls of the room were covered +with precious tapestry, the floor strewed with hay. The Queen had to pass +through on going to chapel. It was a Sunday, when all the nobility came to +pay their respects. The Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London +were present. When divine service began, the Queen appeared, preceded and +followed by the court. Before her walked two barons, carrying the sceptre +and the sword, and between them the Great Chancellor of England with the +seal. The Queen is thus minutely described:— + + + “She was said (_rumor erat_) to be fifty-five years old. Her face + was rather long, white, and a little wrinkled. Her eyes small, + black, and gracious; her nose somewhat bent; her lips compressed, + her teeth black (from eating too much sugar). She had ear-rings of + pearls; red hair, but artificial, and wore a small crown. Her + breast was uncovered (as is the case with all unmarried ladies in + England), and round her neck was a chain with precious gems. Her + hands were graceful, her fingers long. She was of middle stature, + but stepped on majestically. She was gracious and kind in her + address. The dress she wore was of white silk, with pearls as + large as beans. Her cloak was of black silk with silver lace, and + a long train was carried by a marchioness. As she walked along she + spoke most kindly with many people, some of them ambassadors. She + spoke English, French, and Italian; but she knows also Greek and + Latin, and understands Spanish, Scotch, and Dutch. Those whom she + addressed bent their knees, and some she lifted up with her hand. + To a Bohemian nobleman of the name of Slawata, who had brought + some letters to the Queen, she gave her right hand after taking + off her glove, and he kissed it. Wherever she turned her eyes, + people fell on their knees.” + + +There was probably nobody present who ventured to scrutinize the poor +Queen so impertinently as Paulus Hentznerus. He goes on to describe the +ladies who followed the Queen, and how they were escorted by fifty +knights. When she came to the door of the chapel, books were handed to +her, and the people called out, “God save the Queen Elizabeth!” whereupon +the Queen answered, “I thanke you myn good peuple.” Prayers did not last +more than half an hour, and the music was excellent. During the time that +the Queen was in chapel, dinner was laid, and this again is described in +full detail. + +But we cannot afford to tarry with our German observer, nor can we follow +him to Grantbridge (Cambridge) or Oxenford, where he describes the +colleges and halls (each of them having a library), and the life of the +students. From Oxford he went to Woodstock, then back to Oxford, and from +thence to Henley and Madenhood to Windsor. Eton also was visited, and +here, he says, sixty boys were educated gratuitously, and afterwards sent +to Cambridge. After visiting Hampton Court and the royal palace of +Nonesuch, our travellers returned to London. + +We shall finish our extracts with some remarks of Hentzner on the manners +and customs of the English:— + + + “The English are grave, like the Germans, magnificent at home and + abroad. They carry with them a large train of followers and + servants. These have silver shields on their left arm, and a + pig-tail. The English excel in dancing and music. They are swift + and lively, though stouter than the French. They shave the middle + portion of the face, but leave the hair untouched on each side. + They are good sailors and famous pirates; clever, perfidious, and + thievish. About three hundred are hanged in London every year. At + table they are more civil than the French. They eat less bread, + but more meat, and they dress it well. They throw much sugar into + their wine. They suffer frequently from leprosy, commonly called + the white leprosy, which is said to have come to England in the + time of the Normans. They are brave in battle, and always conquer + their enemies. At home they brook no manner of servitude. They are + very fond of noises that fill the ears, such as explosions of + guns, trumpets, and bells. In London, persons who have got drunk + are wont to mount a church tower, for the sake of exercise, and to + ring the bells for several hours. If they see a foreigner who is + handsome and strong, they are sorry that he is not an + Anglicus,—_vulgo_ Englishman.” + + +On his return to France, Hentzner paid a visit to Canterbury, and, after +seeing some ghosts on his journey, arrived safely at Dover. Before he was +allowed to go on board, he had again to undergo an examination, to give +his name, to explain what he had done in England, and where he was going; +and, lastly, his luggage was searched most carefully, in order to see +whether he carried with him any English money, for nobody was allowed to +carry away more than ten pounds of English money: all the rest was taken +away and handed to the royal treasury. And thus farewell, Carissime +Hentzneri! and slumber on your shelf until the eye of some other +benevolent reader, glancing at the rows of forgotten books, is caught by +the quaint lettering on your back, “_Hentzneri Itin_.” + +1857. + + + + + +XIII. CORNISH ANTIQUITIES.(37) + + +It is impossible to spend even a few weeks in Cornwall without being +impressed with the air of antiquity which pervades that county, and seems, +like a morning mist, half to conceal and half to light up every one of its +hills and valleys. It is impossible to look at any pile of stones, at any +wall, or pillar, or gate-post, without asking one’s self the question, Is +this old, or is this new? Is it the work of Saxon, or of Roman, or of +Celt? Nay, one feels sometimes tempted to ask, Is this the work of Nature +or of man? + +“Among these rocks and stones, methinks I see +More than the heedless impress that belongs +To lonely Nature’s casual work: they bear +A semblance strange of power intelligent, +And of design not wholly worn away.”—_Excursion_. + +The late King of Prussia’s remark about Oxford, that in it everything old +seemed new, and everything new seemed old, applies with even greater truth +to Cornwall. There is a continuity between the present and the past of +that curious peninsula, such as we seldom find in any other place. A +spring bubbling up in a natural granite basin, now a meeting-place for +Baptists or Methodists, was but a few centuries ago a holy well, attended +by busy friars, and visited by pilgrims, who came there “nearly lame,” and +left the shrine “almost able to walk.” Still further back the same spring +was a centre of attraction for the Celtic inhabitants, and the rocks piled +up around it stand there as witnesses of a civilization and architecture +certainly more primitive than the civilization and architecture of Roman, +Saxon, or Norman settlers. We need not look beyond. How long that granite +buttress of England has stood there, defying the fury of the Atlantic, the +geologist alone, who is not awed by ages, would dare to tell us. But the +historian is satisfied with antiquities of a more humble and homely +character; and in bespeaking the interest, and, it may be, the active +support of our readers, in favor of the few relics of the most ancient +civilization of Britain, we promise to keep within strictly historical +limits, if by historical we understand, with the late Sir G. C. Lewis, +that only which can be authenticated by contemporaneous monuments. + +But even thus, how wide a gulf seems to separate us from the first +civilizers of the West of England, from the people who gave names to every +headland, bay, and hill of Cornwall, and who first planned those lanes +that now, like throbbing veins, run in every direction across that +heath-covered peninsula! No doubt it is well known that the original +inhabitants of Cornwall were Celts, and that Cornish is a Celtic language; +and that, if we divide the Celtic languages into two classes, Welsh with +Cornish and Breton forms one class, the _Cymric_; while the Irish with its +varieties, as developed in Scotland and the Isle of Man, forms another +class, which is called the _Gaelic_ or _Gadhelic_. It may also be more or +less generally known that Celtic, with all its dialects, is an Aryan or +Indo-European language, closely allied to Latin, Greek, German, Slavonic, +and Sanskrit, and that the Celts, therefore, were not mere barbarians, or +people to be classed together with Finns and Lapps, but heralds of true +civilization wherever they settled in their worldwide migrations, the +equals of Saxons and Romans and Greeks, whether in physical beauty or in +intellectual vigor. And yet there is a strange want of historical reality +in the current conceptions about the Celtic inhabitants of the British +Isles; and while the heroes and statesmen and poets of Greece and Rome, +though belonging to a much earlier age, stand out in bold and sharp relief +on the table of a boy’s memory, his notions of the ancient Britons may +generally be summed up “in houses made of wicker-work, Druids with long +white beards, white linen robes, and golden sickles, and warriors painted +blue.” Nay, strange to say, we can hardly blame a boy for banishing the +ancient bards and Druids from the scene of real history, and assigning to +them that dark and shadowy corner where the gods and heroes of Greece live +peacefully together with the ghosts and fairies from the dreamland of our +own Saxon forefathers. For even the little that is told in “Little +Arthur’s History of England” about the ancient Britons and the Druids is +extremely doubtful. Druids are never mentioned before Cæsar. Few writers, +if any, before him were able to distinguish between Celts and Germans, but +spoke of the barbarians of Gaul and Germany as the Greeks spoke of +Scythians, or as we ourselves speak of the negroes of Africa, without +distinguishing between races so different from each other as Hottentots +and Kaffirs. Cæsar was one of the first writers who knew of an +ethnological distinction between Celtic and Teutonic barbarians, and we +may therefore trust him when he says that the Celts had Druids, and the +Germans had none. But his further statements about these Celtic priests +and sages are hardly more trustworthy than the account which an ordinary +Indian officer at the present day might give us of the Buddhist priests +and the Buddhist religion of Ceylon. Cæsar’s statement that the Druids +worshipped Mercury, Apollo, Mars, Jupiter, and Minerva, is of the same +base metal as the statements of more modern writers that the Buddhists +worship the Trinity, and that they take Buddha for the Son of God. Cæsar +most likely never conversed with a Druid, nor was he able to control, if +he was able to understand, the statements made to him about the ancient +priesthood, the religion and literature of Gaul. Besides, Cæsar himself +tells us very little about the priests of Gaul and Britain; and the +thrilling accounts of the white robes and the golden sickles belong to +Pliny’s “Natural History,” by no means a safe authority in such +matters.(38) + +We must be satisfied, indeed, to know very little about the mode of life, +the forms of worship, the religious doctrines, or the mysterious wisdom of +the Druids and their flocks. But for this very reason it is most essential +that our minds should be impressed strongly with the historical reality +that belongs to the Celtic inhabitants, and to the work which they +performed in rendering these islands for the first time fit for the +habitation of man. That historical lesson, and a very important lesson it +is, is certainly learned more quickly, and yet more effectually, by a +visit to Cornwall or Wales, than by any amount of reading. We may doubt +many things that Celtic enthusiasts tell us; but where every village and +field, every cottage and hill, bear names that are neither English, nor +Norman, nor Latin, it is difficult not to feel that the Celtic element has +been something real and permanent in the history of the British Isles. The +Cornish language is no doubt extinct, if by extinct we mean that it is no +longer spoken by the people. But in the names of towns, castles, rivers, +mountains, fields, manors, and families, and in a few of the technical +terms of mining, husbandry, and fishing, Cornish lives on, and probably +will live on, for many ages to come. There is a well-known verse:— + +“By Tre, Ros, Pol, Lan, Caer, and Pen, +You may know most Cornish men.”(39) + +But it will hardly be believed that a Cornish antiquarian, Dr. Bannister, +who is collecting materials for a glossary of Cornish proper names, has +amassed no less than 2,400 names with Tre, 500 with Fen, 400 with Ros, 300 +with Lan, 200 with Pol, and 200 with Caer. + +A language does not die all at once, nor is it always possible to fix the +exact date when it breathed its last. Thus, in the case of Cornish, it is +by no means easy to reconcile the conflicting statements of various +writers as to the exact time when it ceased to be the language of the +people, unless we bear in mind that what was true with regard to the +higher classes was not so with regard to the lower, and likewise that in +some parts of Cornwall the vitality of the language might continue, while +in others its heart had ceased to beat. As late as the time of Henry +VIII., the famous physician Andrew Borde tells us that English was not +understood by many men and women in Cornwall. “In Cornwal is two +speeches,” he writes; “the one is naughty Englyshe, and the other the +Cornyshe speche. And there be many men and women the which cannot speake +one worde of Englyshe, but all Cornyshe.” During the same King’s reign, +when an attempt was made to introduce a new church service composed in +English, a protest was signed by the Devonshire and Cornish men utterly +refusing this new English:— + + + “We will not receive the new Service, because it is but like a + Christmas game; but we will have our old Service of Matins, Mass, + Evensong, and Procession, in Latin as it was before. And so we the + Cornish men (whereof certain of us understand no English) utterly + refuse this new English.”(40) + + +Yet in the reign of Elizabeth, when the liturgy was appointed by authority +to take the place of the mass, the Cornish, it is said,(41) desired that +it should be in the English language. About the same time we are told that +Dr. John Moreman(42) taught his parishioners the Lord’s Prayer, the Creed, +and the Ten Commandments, in the English tongue. From the time of the +Reformation onward, Cornish seems constantly to have lost ground against +English, particularly in places near Devonshire. Thus Norden, whose +description of Cornwall was probably written about 1584, though not +published till 1728, gives a very full and interesting account of the +struggle between the two languages:— + + + “Of late,” he says (p. 26), “the Cornishe men have muche conformed + themselves to the use of the Englishe tounge, and their Englishe + is equall to the beste, espetially in the easterne partes; even + from Truro eastwarde it is in manner wholly Englishe. In the weste + parte of the countrye, as in the hundreds of Penwith and Kerrier, + the Cornishe tounge is moste in use amongste the inhabitantes, and + yet (whiche is to be marveyled), though the husband and wife, + parentes and children, master and servantes, doe mutually + communicate in their native language, yet ther is none of them in + manner but is able to convers with a straunger in the Englishe + tounge, unless it be some obscure people, that seldome conferr + with the better sorte: But it seemeth that in few yeares the + Cornishe language will be by litle and litle abandoned.” + + +Carew, who wrote about the same time, goes so far as to say that most of +the inhabitants “can no word of Cornish, but very few are ignorant of the +English, though they sometimes affect to be.” This may have been true with +regard to the upper classes, particularly in the west of Cornwall, but it +is nevertheless a fact that, as late as 1640, Mr. William Jackman, the +vicar of Feock,(43) was forced to administer the sacrament in Cornish, +because the aged people did not understand English; nay, the rector of +Landewednak preached his sermons in Cornish as late as 1678. Mr. Scawen, +too, who wrote about that time, speaks of some old folks who spoke Cornish +only, and would not understand a word of English; but he tells us at the +same time that Sir Francis North, the Lord Chief Justice, afterwards Lord +Keeper, when holding the assizes at Lanceston in 1678, expressed his +concern at the loss and decay of the Cornish language. The poor people, in +fact, could speak, or at least understand, Cornish, but he says, “They +were laughed at by the rich, who understood it not, which is their own +fault in not endeavoring after it.” About the beginning of the last +century, Mr. Ed. Lhuyd (died 1709), the keeper of the Ashmolean Museum, +was still able to collect from the mouths of the people a grammar of the +Cornish language, which was published in 1707. He says that at this time +Cornish was only retained in five or six villages towards the Land’s End; +and in his “Archæologia Britannica” he adds, that although it was spoken +in most of the western districts from the Land’s End to the Lizard, “a +great many of the inhabitants, especially the gentry, do not understand +it, there being no necessity thereof in regard there’s no Cornish man but +speaks good English.” It is generally supposed that the last person who +spoke Cornish was Dolly Pentreath, who died in 1778, and to whose memory +Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte has lately erected a monument in the +churchyard at Paul. The inscription is:— + + + “Here lieth interred Dorothy Pentreath, who died in 1778, said to + have been the last person who conversed in the ancient Cornish, + the peculiar language of this country from the earliest records + till it expired in this parish of St. Paul. This stone is erected + by the Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte, in union with the Rev. John + Garret, vicar of St. Paul, June, 1860.” + + +It seems hardly right to deprive the old lady of her fair name; but there +are many people in Cornwall who maintain that when travellers and grandees +came to see her, she would talk anything that came into her head, while +those who listened to her were pleased to think that they had heard the +dying echoes of a primeval tongue.(44) There is a letter extant, written +in Cornish by a poor fisherman of the name of William Bodener. It is dated +July 3, 1776, that is, two years before the death of Dolly Pentreath; and +the writer says of himself in Cornish:— + + + “My age is threescore and five. I am a poor fisherman. I learnt + Cornish when I was a boy. I have been to sea with my father and + five other men in the boat, and have not heard one word of English + spoke in the boat for a week together. I never saw a Cornish book. + I learned Cornish going to sea with old men. There is not more + than four or five in our town can talk Cornish now,—old people + fourscore years old. Cornish is all forgot with young people.”(45) + + +It would seem, therefore, that Cornish died with the last century, and no +one now living can boast to have heard its sound when actually spoken for +the sake of conversation. It seems to have been a melodious and yet by no +means an effeminate language, and Scawen places it in this respect above +most of the other Celtic dialects:— + + + “Cornish,” he says, “is not to be gutturally pronounced, as the + Welsh for the most part is, nor mutteringly, as the Armorick, nor + whiningly as the Irish (which two latter qualities seem to have + been contracted from their servitude), but must be lively and + manly spoken, like other primitive tongues.” + + +Although Cornish must now be classed with the extinct languages, it has +certainly shown a marvelous vitality. More than four hundred years of +Roman occupation, more than six hundred years of Saxon and Danish sway, a +Norman conquest, a Saxon Reformation, and civil wars, have all passed over +the land; but, like a tree that may bend before a storm but is not to be +rooted up, the language of the Celts of Cornwall has lived on in an +unbroken continuity for at least two thousand years. What does this mean? +It means that through the whole of English history to the accession of the +House of Hanover, the inhabitants of Cornwall and the western portion of +Devonshire, in spite of intermarriages with Romans, Saxons, and Normans, +were Celts, and remained Celts. People speak indeed of blood, and +intermingling of blood, as determining the nationality of a people; but +what is meant by blood? It is one of those scientific idols, that crumble +to dust as soon as we try to define or grasp them; it is a vague, hollow, +treacherous term, which, for the present at least, ought to be banished +from the dictionary of every true man of science. We can give a scientific +definition of a Celtic language; but no one has yet given a definition of +Celtic blood, or a Celtic skull. It is quite possible that hereafter +chemical differences may be discovered in the blood of those who speak a +Celtic, and of those who speak a Teutonic language. It is possible, also, +that patient measurements, like those lately published by Professor +Huxley, in the “Journal of Anatomy and Physiology,” may lead in time to a +really scientific classification of skulls, and that physiologists may +succeed in the end in carrying out a classification of the human race, +according to tangible and unvarying physiological criteria. But their +definitions and their classifications will hardly ever square with the +definitions or classifications of the student of language, and the use of +common terms can only be a source of constant misunderstandings. We know +what we mean by a Celtic language, and in the grammar of each language we +are able to produce a most perfect scientific definition of its real +character. If, therefore, we transfer the term Celtic to people, we can, +if we use our words accurately, mean nothing but people who speak a Celtic +language, the true exponent, aye, the very life of Celtic nationality. +Whatever people, whether Romans, or Saxons, or Normans, or, as some think, +even Phœnicians and Jews, settled in Cornwall, if they ceased to speak +their own language and exchanged it for Cornish, they are, before the +tribunal of the science of language, Celts, and nothing but Celts; while, +whenever Cornishmen, like Sir Humphrey Davy or Bishop Colenso, have ceased +to speak Cornish, and speak nothing but English, they are no longer Celts, +but true Teutons or Saxons, in the only scientifically legitimate sense of +that word. Strange stories, indeed, would be revealed, if blood could cry +out and tell of its repeated mixtures since the beginning of the world. If +we think of the early migrations of mankind; of the battles fought before +there were hieroglyphics to record them; of conquests, leadings into +captivity, piracy, slavery, and colonization, all without a sacred poet to +hand them down to posterity,—we shall hesitate, indeed, to speak of pure +races, or unmixed blood, even at the very dawn of real history. Little as +we know of the early history of Greece, we know enough to warn us against +looking upon the Greeks of Asia or Europe as an unmixed race. Ægyptus, +with his Arabian, Ethiopian, and Tyrian wives; Cadmus, the son of Libya; +Phœnix, the father of Europa,—all point to an intercourse of Greece with +foreign countries, whatever else their mythological meaning may be. As +soon as we know anything of the history of the world, we know of wars and +alliances between Greeks and Lydians and Persians, of Phœnician +settlements all over the world, of Carthaginians trading in Spain and +encamped in Italy, of Romans conquering and colonizing Gaul, Spain, +Britain, the Danubian Principalities and Greece, Western Asia and Northern +Africa. Then again, at a later time, follow the great ethnic convulsions +of Eastern Europe, and the devastation and re-population of the ancient +seats of civilization by Goths, and Lombards, and Vandals, and Saxons; +while at the same time, and for many centuries to come, the few +strongholds of civilization in the East were again and again overwhelmed +by the irresistible waves of Hunnish, Mongolic, and Tartaric invaders. +And, with all this, people at the latter end of the nineteenth century +venture to speak, for instance, of pure Norman blood as something definite +or definable, forgetting how the ancient Norsemen carried their wives away +from the coasts of Germany or Russia, from Sicily or from the very Piræus; +while others married whatever wives they could find in the North of +France, whether of Gallic, Roman, or German extraction, and then settled +in England, where they again contracted marriages with Teutonic, Celtic, +or Roman damsels. In our own days, if we see the daughter of an English +officer and an Indian Ranee married to the son of a Russian nobleman, how +are we to class the offspring of that marriage? The Indian Ranee may have +had Mongol blood, so may the Russian nobleman; but there are other +possible ingredients of pure Hindu and pure Slavonic, of Norman, German, +and Roman blood,—and who is the chemist bold enough to disengage them all? +There is, perhaps, no nation which has been exposed to more frequent +admixture of foreign blood, during the Middle Ages, than the Greeks. +Professor Fallmerayer maintained that the Hellenic population was entirely +exterminated, and that the people who at the present day call themselves +Greeks are really Slavonians. It would be difficult to refute him by +arguments drawn either from the physical or the moral characteristics of +the modern Greeks as compared with the many varieties of the Slavonic +stock. But the following extract from “Felton’s Lectures on Greece, +Ancient and Modern,” contains the only answer that can be given to such +charges, without point or purpose: “In one of the courses of lectures,” he +says, “which I attended in the University of Athens, the Professor of +History, a very eloquent man as well as a somewhat fiery Greek, took this +subject up. His audience consisted of about two hundred young men from +every part of Greece. His indignant comments on the learned German, that +notorious Μισέλλην or Greek-hater, as he stigmatized him, were received by +his hearers with a profound sensation. They sat with expanded nostrils and +flashing eyes—a splendid illustration of the old Hellenic spirit, roused +to fury by the charge of barbarian descent. ‘It is true,’ said the +eloquent professor, ‘that the tide of barbaric invaders poured down like a +deluge upon Hellas, filling with its surging floods our beautiful plains, +our fertile valleys. The Greeks fled to their walled towns and mountain +fastnesses. By and by the water subsided and the soil of Hellas +reappeared. The former inhabitants descended from the mountains as the +tide receded, resumed their ancient lands and rebuilt their ruined +habitations, and, the reign of the barbarians over, Hellas was herself +again.’ Three or four rounds of applause followed the close of the +lectures of Professor Manouses, in which I heartily joined. I could not +help thinking afterwards what a singular comment on the German +anti-Hellenic theory was presented by this scene,—a Greek professor in a +Greek university, lecturing to two hundred Greeks in the Greek language, +to prove that the Greeks were Greeks, and not Slavonians.”(46) + +And yet we hear the same arguments used over and over again, not only with +regard to the Greeks, but with regard to many other modern nations; and +even men whose minds have been trained in the school of exact science, use +the term “bloods,” in this vague and thoughtless manner. The adjective +Greek may connote many things, but what it denotes is language. People who +speak Greek as their mother tongue are Greeks, and if a Turkish-speaking +inhabitant of Constantinople could trace his pedigree straight to +Pericles, he would still be a Turk, whatever his name, his faith, his +hair, features, and stature—whatever his blood might be. We can classify +languages, and as languages presuppose people that speak them, we can so +far classify mankind, according to their grammars and dictionaries; while +all who possess scientific honesty must confess and will confess that, as +yet, it has been impossible to devise any truly scientific classification +of skulls, to say nothing of blood, or bones, or hair. The label on one of +the skulls in the Munich Collection, “Etruscan-Tyrol, or Inca-Peruvian,” +characterizes not too unfairly the present state of ethnological +craniology. Let those who imagine that the great outlines, at least, of a +classification of skulls have been firmly established, consult Mr. Brace’s +useful manual of “The Races of the World,” where he has collected the +opinions of some of the best judges on the subject. We quote a few +passages:(47)— + + + “Dr. Bachmann concludes, from the measurements of Dr. Tiedemann + and Dr. Morton, that the negro skull, though less than the + European, is within one inch as large as the Persian and the + Armenian, and three square inches larger than the Hindu and + Egyptian. The scale is thus given by Dr. Morton: European skull, + 87 cubic inches; Malay, 85; Negro 83; Mongol, 82; Ancient + Egyptian, 80; American, 79. The ancient Peruvians and Mexicans, + who constructed so elaborate a civilization, show a capacity only + of from 75 to 79 inches.... Other observations by Huschke make the + average capacity of the skull of Europeans 40.88 oz.; of + Americans, 39.13; of Mongols, 38.39; of Negroes, 37.57; of Malays, + 36.41.” + + + “Of the shape of the skull, as distinctive of different origin, + Professor M. J. Weber has said there is no proper mark of a + definite race from the cranium so firmly attached that it may not + be found in some other race. Tiedemann has met with Germans whose + skulls bore all the characters of the negro race; and an + inhabitant of Nukahiwa, according to Silesius and Blumenbach, + agreed exactly in his proportions with the Apollo Belvedere.” + + +Professor Huxley, in his “Observations on the Human Skulls of Engis and +Neanderthal,” printed in Sir Charles Lyell’s “Antiquity of Man,” p. 81, +remarks that “the most capacious European skull yet measured had a +capacity of 114 cubic inches, the smallest (as estimated by weight of +brain) about 55 cubic inches; while, according to Professor Schaaffhausen, +some Hindu skulls have as small a capacity as 46 cubic inches (27 oz. of +water);” and he sums up by stating that “cranial measurements alone afford +no safe indication of race.” + +And even if a scientific classification of skulls were to be carried out, +if, instead of merely being able to guess that this may be an Australian +and this a Malay skull, we were able positively to place each individual +skull under its own definite category, what should we gain in the +classification of mankind? Where is the bridge from skull to man in the +full sense of that word? Where is the connecting link between the cranial +proportions and only one other of man’s characteristic properties, such as +language? And what applies to skulls applies to color and all the rest. +Even a black skin and curly hair are mere outward accidents as compared +with language. We do not classify parrots and magpies by the color of +their plumage, still less by the cages in which they live; and what is the +black skin or the white skin but the mere outward covering, not to say the +mere cage, in which that being which we call man lives, moves, and has his +being? A man like Bishop Crowther, though a negro in blood, is, in thought +and speech, an Aryan. He speaks English, he thinks English, he acts +English; and, unless we take English in a purely historical, and not in +its truly scientific, _i.e._ linguistic sense, he is English. No doubt +there are many influences at work—old proverbs, old songs and traditions, +religious convictions, social institutions, political prejudices, besides +the soil, the food, and the air of a country—that may keep up, even among +people who have lost their national language, that kind of vague +similarity which is spoken of as national character.(48) This is a subject +on which many volumes have been written, and yet the result has only been +to supply newspapers with materials for international insults or +international courtesies, as the case may be. Nothing sound or definite +has been gained by such speculations, and in an age that prides itself on +the careful observance of the rules of inductive reasoning, nothing is +more surprising than the sweeping assertions with regard to national +character, and the reckless way in which casual observations that may be +true of one, two, three, or it may be ten or even a hundred individuals, +are extended to millions. However, if there is one safe exponent of +national character, it is language. Take away the language of a people, +and you destroy at once that powerful chain of tradition in thought and +sentiment which holds all the generations of the same race together, if we +may use an unpleasant simile, like the chain of a gang of galley-slaves. +These slaves, we are told, very soon fall into the same pace, without +being aware that their movements depend altogether on the movements of +those who walk before them. It is nearly the same with us. We imagine we +are altogether free in our thoughts, original and independent, and we are +not aware that our thoughts are manacled and fettered by language, and +that, without knowing and without perceiving it, we have to keep pace with +those who walked before us thousands and thousands of years ago. Language +alone binds people together, and keeps them distinct from others who speak +different tongues. In ancient times particularly, “languages and nations” +meant the same thing; and even with us our real ancestors are those whose +language we speak, the fathers of our thoughts, the mothers of our hopes +and fears. Blood, bones, hair, and color, are mere accidents, utterly +unfit to serve as principles of scientific classification for that great +family of living beings, the essential characteristics of which are +thought and speech, not fibrine, serum, coloring matter, or whatever else +enters into the composition of blood. + +If this be true, the inhabitants of Cornwall, whatever the number of +Roman, Saxon, Danish, or Norman settlers within the boundaries of that +county may have been, continued to be Celts as long as they spoke Cornish. +They ceased to be Celts when they ceased to speak the language of their +forefathers. Those who can appreciate the charms of genuine antiquity will +not, therefore, find fault with the enthusiasm of Daines Barrington or Sir +Joseph Banks in listening to the strange utterances of Dolly Pentreath; +for her language, if genuine, carried them back and brought them, as it +were, into immediate contact with people who, long before the Christian +era, acted an important part on the stage of history, supplying the world +with two of the most precious metals, more precious then than gold or +silver, with copper and tin, the very materials, it may be, of the finest +works of art in Greece, aye, of the armor wrought for the heroes of the +Trojan War, as described so minutely by the poets of the “Iliad.” There is +a continuity in language which nothing equals, and there is an historical +genuineness in ancient words, if but rightly interpreted, which cannot be +rivaled by manuscripts, or coins, or monumental inscriptions. + +But though it is right to be enthusiastic about what is really ancient in +Cornwall,—and there is nothing so ancient as language,—it is equally right +to be discriminating. The fresh breezes of antiquity have intoxicated many +an antiquarian. Words, purely Latin or English, though somewhat changed +after being admitted into the Cornish dictionary, have been quoted as the +originals from which the Roman or English were in turn derived. The Latin +_liber_, book, was supposed to be derived from the Welsh _llyvyr; litera_, +letter, from Welsh _llythyr; persona_, person, from Welsh _person_, and +many more of the same kind. Walls built within the memory of men have been +admitted as relics of British architecture; nay, Latin inscriptions of the +simplest character have but lately been interpreted by means of Cornish, +as containing strains of a mysterious wisdom. Here, too, a study of the +language gives some useful hints as to the proper method of disentangling +the truly ancient from the more modern elements. Whatever in the Cornish +dictionary cannot be traced back to any other source, whether Latin, +Saxon, Norman, or German, may safely be considered as Cornish, and +therefore as ancient Celtic. Whatever in the antiquities of Cornwall +cannot be claimed by Romans, Saxons, Danes, or Normans, may fairly be +considered as genuine remains of the earliest civilization of this island, +as the work of the Celtic discoverers of Britain. + +The Cornish language is by no means a pure or unmixed language,—at least +we do not know it in its pure state. It is, in fact, a mere accident that +any literary remains have been preserved, and three or four small volumes +would contain all that is left to us of Cornish literature. “There is a +poem,” to quote Mr. Norris, “which we may by courtesy call epic, entitled +‘Mount Calvary.’ ” It contains 259 stanzas of eight lines each, in +heptasyllabic metre, with alternate rhyme. It is ascribed to the fifteenth +century, and was published for the first time by Mr. Davies Gilbert in +1826.(49) There is, besides, a series of dramas, or mystery-plays, first +published by Mr. Norris for the University Press of Oxford, in 1858. The +first is called “The Beginning of the World,” the second “The Passion of +our Lord,” the third “The Resurrection.” The last is interrupted by +another play, “The Death of Pilate.” The oldest MS. in the Bodleian +Library belongs to the fifteenth century, and Mr. Norris is not inclined +to refer the composition of these plays to a much earlier date. Another +MS., likewise in the Bodleian Library, contains both the text and a +translation by Keigwyn (1695). Lastly, there is another sacred drama, +called “The Creation of the World, with Noah’s Flood.” It is in many +places copied from the dramas, and, according to the MS., it was written +by William Jordan in 1611. The oldest MS. belongs again to the Bodleian +Library, which likewise possesses a MS. of the translation by Keigwyn in +1691.(50) + +These mystery-plays, as we may learn from a passage in Carew’s “Survey of +Cornwall” (p. 71), were still performed in Cornish in his time, _i.e._ at +the beginning of the seventeenth century. He says:— + + + “Pastimes to delight the minde, the Cornish men have Guary + miracles and three mens songs; and, for the exercise of the body, + hunting, hawking, shooting, wrastling, hurling, and such other + games. + + + “The Guary miracle—in English, a miracle-play—is a kind of + enterlude, compiled in Cornish out of some Scripture history, with + that grossenes which accompanied the Romanes _vetus Comedia_. For + representing it, they raise an earthen amphitheatre in some open + field, having the diameter of his enclosed playne some forty or + fifty foot. The country people flock from all sides, many miles + off, to heare and see it, for they have therein devils and + devices, to delight as well the eye as the eare; the players conne + not their parts without booke, but are prompted by one called the + Ordinary, who followeth at their back with the booke in his hand, + and telleth them softly what they must pronounce aloud. Which + manner once gave occasion to a pleasant conceyted gentleman, of + practising a mery pranke; for he undertaking (perhaps of set + purpose) an actor’s roome, was accordingly lessoned (beforehand) + by the Ordinary, that he must say after him. His turn came. Quoth + the Ordinary, Goe forth man and shew thy selfe. The gentleman + steps out upon the stage, and like a bad Clarke in Scripture + matters, cleaving more to the letter than the sense, pronounced + those words aloud. Oh! (sayes the fellowe softly in his eare) you + marre all the play. And with this his passion the actor makes the + audience in like sort acquainted. Hereon the prompter falls to + flat rayling and cursing in the bitterest termes he could devise: + which the gentleman, with a set gesture and countenance, still + soberly related, untill the Ordinary, driven at last into a madde + rage, was faine to give all over. Which trousse, though it brake + off the enterlude, yet defrauded not the beholders, but dismissed + them with a great deale more sport and laughter than such Guaries + could have afforded.”(51) + + +Scawen, at the end of the seventeenth century, speaks of these +miracle-plays, and considers the suppression of the _Guirrimears_,(52) or +Great Plays or Speeches,(53) as one of the chief causes of the decay of +the Cornish language. + + + “These _Guirrimears_,” he says, “which were used at the great + conventions of the people, at which they had famous interludes + celebrated with great preparations, and not without shows of + devotion in them, solemnized in great and spacious downs of great + capacity, encompassed about with earthen banks, and some in part + stone-work, of largeness to contain thousands, the shapes of which + remain in many places at this day, though the use of them long + since gone.... This was a great means to keep in use the tongue + with delight and admiration. They had recitations in them, + poetical and divine, one of which I may suppose this small relique + of antiquity to be, in which the passion of our Saviour, and his + resurrection, is described.” + + +If to these mystery-plays and poems we add some versions of the Lord’s +Prayer, the Commandments, and the Creed, a protestation of the bishops in +Britain to Augustine the monk, the Pope’s legate, in the year 600 after +Christ (MS. Gough, 4), the first chapter of Genesis, and some songs, +proverbs, riddles, a tale and a glossary, we have an almost complete +catalogue of what a Cornish library would be at the present day. + +Now if we examine the language as preserved to us in these fragments, we +find that it is full of Norman, Saxon, and Latin words. No one can doubt, +for instance, that the following Cornish words are all taken from Latin, +that is, from the Latin of the Church:— + +_Abat_, an abbot; Lat. _abbas_. +_Alter_, altar; Lat. _altare_. +_Apostol_, apostle; Lat. _apostolus_. +_Clauster_, cloister; Lat. _claustrum_. +_Colom_, dove; Lat. _columba_. +_Gwespar_, vespers; Lat. _vesper_. +_Cantuil_, candle; Lat. _candela_. +_Cantuilbren_, candlestick; Lat. _candelabrum_. +_Ail_, angel; Lat. _angelus_. +_Archail_, archangel; Lat. _archangelus_. + +Other words, though not immediately connected with the service and the +doctrine of the Church, may nevertheless have passed from Latin into +Cornish, either directly from the daily conversation of monks, priests, +and schoolmasters, or indirectly from English or Norman, in both of which +the same Latin words had naturally been adopted, though slightly modified +according to the phonetic peculiarities of each. Thus:— + + + _Ancar_, anchor; the Latin, _ancora_. This might have come + indirectly through English or Norman-French. + + + _Aradar_, plough; the Latin, _aratrum_. This must have come direct + from Latin, as it does not exist in Norman or English. + + + _Arghans_, silver; _argentum_. + + + _Keghin_, kitchen; _coquina_. This is taken from the same Latin + word from which the Romance languages formed _cuisine, cucina_; + not from the classical Latin, _culina_. + + + _Liver_, book; _liber_, originally the bark of trees on which + books were written. + + + _Dinair_, coin; _denarius. Seth_, arrow; _sagitta. Caus_, cheese; + _caseus_. _Caul_, cabbage; _caulis_. + + +These words are certainly foreign words in Cornish and the other Celtic +languages in which they occur, and to attempt to supply for some of them a +purely Celtic etymology shows a complete want of appreciation both of the +history of words and of the phonetic laws that govern each family of the +Indo-European languages. Sometimes, no doubt, the Latin words have been +considerably changed and modified, according to the phonetic peculiarities +of the dialects into which they were received. Thus, _gwespar_ for +_vesper_, _seth_ for _sagitta_, _caus_ for _caseus_, hardly look like +Latin words. Yet no real Celtic scholar would claim them as Celtic; and +the Rev. Robert Williams, the author of the “Lexicon Cornu-Britannicum,” +in speaking of a list of words borrowed from Latin by the Welsh during the +stay of the Romans in Britain, is no doubt right in stating “that it will +be found much more extensive than is generally imagined.” + +Latin words which have reached the Cornish after they had assumed a French +or Norman disguise, are, for instance,— + + + _Emperur_, instead of Latin _imperator_ (Welsh, _ymherawdwr_). + + + _Laian_, the French _loyal_, but not the Latin _legalis_. + Likewise, _dislaian_, disloyal. + + + _Fruit_, fruit; Lat. _fructus_; French, _fruit_. + + + _Funten_, fountain, commonly pronounced _fenton_; Lat. _fontana_; + French, _fontaine_. + + + _Gromersy_, _i.e._ grand mercy, thanks. + + + _Hoyz, hoyz, hoyz!_ hear, hear! The Norman-French, _Oyez_. + + +The town-crier of Aberconwy may still be heard prefacing his notices with +the shout of “Hoyz, hoyz, hoyz!” which in other places has been corrupted +to “O yes.” + +The following words, adopted into Cornish and other Celtic dialects, +clearly show their Saxon origin:— + + + _Cafor_, a chafer; Germ, _käfer_. _Craft_, art, craft. _Redior_, a + reader. _Storc_, a stork. _Let_, hindrance, let; preserved in the + German, _verletzen_.(54) + + +Considering that Cornish and other Celtic dialects are members of the same +family to which Latin and German belong, it is sometimes difficult to tell +at once whether a Celtic word was really borrowed, or whether it belongs +to that ancient stock of words which all the Aryan languages share in +common. This is a point which can be determined by scholars only, and by +means of phonetic tests. Thus the Cornish _huir_, or _hoer_, is clearly +the same word as the Latin _soror_, sister. But the change of _s_ into _h_ +would not have taken place if the word had been simply borrowed from +Latin, while many words beginning with _s_ in Sanskrit, Latin, and German, +change the _s_ into _h_ in Cornish as well as in Greek and Persian. The +Cornish _hoer_, sister, is indeed curiously like the Persian _kháher_, the +regular representative of the Sanskrit _svasar_, the Latin _soror_. The +same applies to _braud_, brother, _dedh_, day, _dri_, three, and many more +words which form the primitive stock of Cornish, and were common to all +the Aryan languages before their earliest dispersion. + +What applies to the language of Cornwall, applies with equal force to the +other relics of antiquity of that curious county. It has been truly said +that Cornwall is poor in antiquities, but it is equally true that it is +rich in antiquity. The difficulty is to discriminate, and to distinguish +what is really Cornish or Celtic from what may be later additions, of +Roman, Saxon, Danish, and Norman origin. Now here, as we said before, the +safest rule is clearly the same as that which we followed in our analysis +of language. Let everything be claimed for English, Norman, Danish, and +Roman sources that can clearly be proved to come from thence; but let what +remains unclaimed be considered as Cornish or Celtic. Thus, if we do not +find in countries exclusively inhabited by Romans or Saxons anything like +a cromlech, surely we have a right to look upon these strange structures +as remnants of Celtic times. It makes no difference if it can be shown +that below these cromlechs coins have occasionally been found of the Roman +Emperors. This only proves that even during the days of Roman supremacy +the Cornish style of public monuments, whether sepulchral or otherwise, +remained. Nay, why should not even a Roman settled in Cornwall have +adopted the monumental style of his adopted country? Roman and Saxon hands +may have helped to erect some of the cromlechs which are still to be seen +in Cornwall, but the original idea of such monuments, and hence their +name, is purely Celtic. + +_Cromlêh_ in Cornish, or _cromlech_ in Welsh, means a bent slab, from the +Cornish _crom_, bent, curved, rounded, and _lêh_, a slab. Though many of +these cromlechs have been destroyed, Cornwall still possesses some fine +specimens of these ancient stone tripods. Most of them are large granite +slabs, supported by three stones fixed in the ground. These supporters are +likewise huge flat stones, but the capstone is always the largest, and its +weight inclining towards one point, imparts strength to the whole +structure. At Lanyon, however, where the top-stone of a cromlech was +thrown down in 1816 by a violent storm, the supporters remained standing, +and the capstone was replaced in 1824, though not, it would seem, at its +original height. Dr. Borlase relates that in his time the monument was +high enough for a man to sit on horseback under it. At present such a feat +would be impossible, the cover-stone being only about five feet from the +ground. These cromlechs, though very surprising when seen for the first +time, represent in reality one of the simplest achievements of primitive +architecture. It is far easier to balance a heavy weight on three uneven +props than to rest it level on two or four even supporters. There are, +however, cromlechs resting on four or more stones, these stones forming a +kind of chamber, or a _kist-vaen_, which is supposed to have served +originally as a sepulchre. These structures presuppose a larger amount of +architectural skill; still more so the gigantic portals of Stonehenge, +which are formed by two pillars of equal height, joined by a +superincumbent stone. Here weight alone was no longer considered +sufficient for imparting strength and safety, but holes were worked in the +upper stones, and the pointed tops of the pillars were fitted into them. +In the slabs that form the cromlechs we find no such traces of careful +workmanship; and this, as well as other considerations, would support the +opinion, that in Stonehenge we have one of the latest specimens of Celtic +architecture. Marvelous as are the remains of that primitive style of +architectural art, the only real problem they offer is, how such large +stones could have been brought together from a distance, and how such +enormous weights could have been lifted up. The first question is answered +by ropes and rollers; and the mural sculptures of Nineveh show us what can +be done by such simple machinery. We there see the whole picture of how +these colossal blocks of stone were moved from the quarry on to the place +where they were wanted. Given plenty of time, and plenty of men and oxen, +and there is no block that could not be brought to its right place by +means of ropes and rollers. And that our forefathers did not stint +themselves either in time, or in men, or other cattle, when engaged in +erecting such monuments, we know even from comparatively modern times. +Under Harold Harfagr, two kings spent three whole years in erecting one +single tumulus; and Harold Blatand is said to have employed the whole of +his army and a vast number of oxen in transporting a large stone which he +wished to place on his mother’s tomb. As to the second question, we can +readily understand how, after the supporters had once been fixed in the +ground, an artificial mound might be raised, which, when the heavy slab +had been rolled up on an inclined plane, might be removed again, and thus +leave the heavy stone poised in its startling elevation. + +As skeletons have been found under some of the cromlechs, there can be +little doubt that the chambers inclosed by them, the so-called +_kist-vaens_, were intended to receive the remains of the dead, and to +perpetuate their memory. And as these sepulchral monuments are most +frequent in those parts of the British Isles which from the earliest to +the latest times were inhabited by Celtic people, they may be considered +as representative of the Celtic style of public sepulture. _Kist-vaen_, or +_cist-vaen_, means a stone-chamber, from _cista_, a chest, and _vaen_, the +modified form of _maen_ or _mên_, stone. Their size is, with few +exceptions, not less than the size of a human body. But although these +monuments were originally sepulchral, we may well understand that the +burying-places of great men, of kings, or priests, or generals, were +likewise used for the celebration of other religious rites. Thus we read +in the Book of Lecan, “that Amhalgaith built a cairn, for the purpose of +holding a meeting of the Hy-Amhalgaith every year, and to view his ships +and fleet going and coming, and as a place of interment for himself.”(55) +Nor does it follow, as some antiquarians maintain, that every structure in +the style of a cromlech, even in England, is exclusively Celtic. We +imitate pyramids and obelisks: why should not the Saxons have built the +Kitts Cotty House, which is found in a thoroughly Saxon neighborhood, +after Celtic models and with the aid of Celtic captives? This cromlech +stands in Kent, on the brow of a hill about a mile and a half from +Aylesford, to the right of the great road from Rochester to Maidstone. +Near it, across the Medway, are the stone circles of Addington. The stone +on the south side is 8 ft. high by 7-½ broad, and 2 ft. thick; weight, +about 8 tons. That on the north is 8 ft. by 8, and 2 thick; weight, 8 tons +10 cwt. The end stone, 5 ft. 6 in. high by 5 ft. broad; thickness, 14 in.; +weight, 2 tons 8-¼ cwt. The impost is 11 ft. long by 8 ft. broad, and 2 +ft. thick; weight, 10 tons 7 cwt. It is higher, therefore, than the +Cornish cromlechs, but in other respects it is a true specimen of that +class of Celtic monuments. The cover-stone of the cromlech at Molfra is 9 +ft. 8 in. by 14 ft. 3 in.; its supporters are 5 ft. high. The cover-stone +of the Chûn cromlech measures 12-½ ft. in length and 11 ft. in width. The +largest slab is that at Lanyon, which measures 18-½ ft. in length and 9 +ft. at the broadest part. + +The cromlechs are no doubt the most characteristic and most striking among +the monuments of Cornwall. Though historians have differed as to their +exact purpose, not even the most careless traveller could pass them by +without seeing that they do not stand there without a purpose. They speak +for themselves, and they certainly speak in a language that is neither +Roman, Saxon, Danish, nor Norman. Hence in England they may, by a kind of +exhaustive process of reasoning, be claimed as relics of Celtic +civilization. The same argument applies to the cromlechs and stone avenues +of Carnac, in Brittany. Here, too, language and history attest the former +presence of Celtic people; nor could any other race, that influenced the +historical destinies of the North of Gaul, claim such structures as their +own. Even in still more distant places, in the South of France, in +Scandinavia, or Germany, where similar monuments have been discovered, +they may, though more hesitatingly, be classed as Celtic, particularly if +they are found near the natural high roads on which we know that the Celts +in their westward migrations preceded the Teutonic and Slavonic Aryans. +But the case is totally different when we hear of cromlechs, cairns, and +kist-vaens in the North of Africa, in Upper Egypt, on the Lebanon, near +the Jordan, in Circassia, or in the South of India. Here, and more +particularly in the South of India, we have no indications whatever of +Celtic Aryans; on the contrary, if that name is taken in its strict +scientific meaning, it would be impossible to account for the presence of +Celtic Aryans in those southern latitudes at any time after the original +dispersion of the Aryan family. It is very natural that English officers +living in India should be surprised at monuments which cannot but remind +them of what they had seen at home, whether in Cornwall, Ireland, or +Scotland. A description of some of these monuments, the so-called Pandoo +Coolies in Malabar, was given by Mr. J. Babington, in 1820, and published +in the third volume of the “Transactions of the Literary Society of +Bombay,” in 1823. Captain Congreve called attention to what he considered +Scythic Druidical remains in the Nilghiri hills, in a paper published in +1847, in the “Madras Journal of Literature and Science,” and the same +subject was treated in the same journal by the Rev. W. Taylor. A most +careful and interesting description of similar monuments has lately been +published in the “Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy,” by Captain +Meadows Taylor, under the title of “Description of Cairns, Cromlechs, +Kist-vaens, and other Celtic, Druidical, or Scythian Monuments in the +Dekhan.” Captain Taylor found these monuments near the village of +Rajunkolloor, in the principality of Shorapoor, an independent native +state, situated between the Bheema and Krishna rivers, immediately above +their junction. Others were discovered near Huggeritgi, others on the hill +of Yemmee Gooda, others again near Shapoor, Hyderabad, and other places. +All these monuments in the South of India are no doubt extremely +interesting; but to call them Celtic, Druidical, or Scythic, is +unscientific, or, at all events, exceedingly premature. There is in all +architectural monuments a natural or rational, and a conventional, or, it +may be, irrational element. A striking agreement in purely conventional +features may justify the assumption that monuments so far distant from +each others as the cromlechs of Anglesea and the “Mori-Munni” of Shorapoor +owe their origin to the same architects, or to the same races. But an +agreement in purely natural contrivances goes for nothing, or, at least, +for very little. Now there is very little that can be called conventional +in a mere stone pillar, or in a cairn, that is, an artificial heap of +stones. Even the erection of a cromlech can hardly be claimed as a +separate style of architecture. Children, all over the world, if building +houses with cards, will build cromlechs; and people, all over the world, +if the neighborhood supplies large slabs of stone, will put three stones +together to keep out the sun or the wind, and put a fourth stone on the +top to keep out the rain. Before monuments like those described by Captain +Meadows Taylor can be classed as Celtic or Druidical, a possibility, at +all events, must be shown that Celts, in the true sense of the word, could +ever have inhabited the Dekhan. Till that is done, it is better to leave +them anonymous, or to call them by their native names, than to give to +them a name which is apt to mislead the public at large, and to encourage +theories which exceed the limits of legitimate speculation. + +Returning to Cornwall, we find there, besides the cromlechs, pillars, +holed stones, and stone circles, all of which may be classed as public +monuments. They all bear witness to a kind of public spirit, and to a +certain advance in social and political life, at the time of their +erection. They were meant for people living at the time, who understood +their meaning, if not as messages to posterity, and, if so, as truly +historical monuments; for history begins when the living begin to care +about a good opinion of those who come after them. Some of the single +Cornish pillars tell us little indeed; nothing, in reality, beyond the +fact that they were erected by human skill, and with some human purpose. +Some of these monoliths seem to have been of a considerable size. In a +village called Mên Perhen, in Constantine parish, there stood, “about five +years ago,”—so Dr. Borlase relates in the year 1769,—a large pyramidal +stone, twenty feet above the ground, and four feet in the ground; it made +above twenty stone posts for gates when it was clove up by the farmer who +gave the account to the Doctor.(56) Other stones, like the Mên Scrifa, +have inscriptions, but these inscriptions are Roman, and of comparatively +late date. There are some pillars, like the Pipers at Bolleit, which are +clearly connected with the stone circles close by, remnants, it may be, of +old stone avenues, or beacons, from which signals might be sent to other +distant settlements. The holed stones, too, are generally found in close +proximity to other large stone monuments. They are called _mên-an-tol_, +hole-stones, in Cornwall; and the name of _tol-men_, or _dol-men_, which +is somewhat promiscuously used by Celtic antiquarians, should be +restricted to monuments of this class, _toll_ being the Cornish word for +_hole_, _mên_ for _stone_, and _an_ the article. French antiquarians, +taking _dol_ or _tôl_ as a corruption of _tabula_, use _dolman_ in the +sense of table-stones, and as synonymous with _cromlech_, while they +frequently use _cromlech_ in the sense of stone circles. This can hardly +be justified, and leads at all events to much confusion. + +The stone circles, whether used for religious or judicial purposes,—and +there was in ancient times very little difference between the two,—were +clearly intended for solemn meetings. There is a very perfect circle at +Boscawen-ûn, which consisted originally of nineteen stones. Dr. Borlase, +whose work on the Antiquities of the County of Cornwall contains the most +trustworthy information as to the state of Cornish antiquities about a +hundred years ago, mentions three other circles which had the same number +of stones, while others vary from twelve to seventy-two. + + + “The figure of these monuments,” he says, “is either simple, or + compounded. Of the first kind are exact circles; elliptical or + semicircular. The construction of these is not always the same, + some having their circumference marked with large separate stones + only; others having ridges of small stones intermixed, and + sometimes walls and seats, serving to render the inclosure more + complete. Other circular monuments have their figure more complex + and varied, consisting, not only of a circle, but of some other + distinguishing properties. In or near the centre of some stands a + stone taller than the rest, as at Boscawen-ûn; in the middle of + others, a kist-vaen. A cromlêh distinguishes the centre of some + circles, and one remarkable rock that of others; some have only + one line of stones in their circumference, and some have two; some + circles are adjacent, some contiguous, and some include, and some + intersect each other. Sometimes urns are found in or near them. + Some are curiously erected on geometrical plans, the chief + entrance facing the cardinal points of the heavens; some have + avenues leading to them, placed exactly north and south, with + detached stones, sometimes in straight lines to the east and west, + sometimes triangular. These monuments are found in many foreign + countries, in Iceland, Sweden, Denmark, and Germany, as well as in + all the isles dependent upon Britain (the Orkneys, Western Isles, + Jersey, Ireland, and the Isle of Man), and in most parts of + Britain itself.” + + +Modern traditions have everywhere clustered round these curious stone +circles. Being placed in a circular order, so as to make an area for +dancing, they were naturally called _Dawns-mên_, _i.e._ dancing stones. +This name was soon corrupted into dancemen, and a legend sprang up at once +to account for the name, namely, that these men had danced on a Sunday and +been changed into stones. Another corruption of the same name into +_Danis-mên_ led to the tradition that these circles were built by the +Danes. A still more curious name for these circles is that of “_Nine +Maidens_,” which occurs at Boscawen-ûn, and in several other places in +Cornwall. Now the Boscawen-ûn circle consists of nineteen stones, and +there are very few “Nine Maidens” that consist of nine stones only. Yet +the name prevails, and is likewise supported by local legends of nine +maidens having been changed into stones for dancing on a Sunday, or some +other misdeed. One part of the legend may perhaps be explained by the fact +that _mêdn_ would be a common corruption in modern Cornish for _mên_, +stone, as _pen_ becomes _pedn_, and _gwyn_, _gwydn_, etc., and that the +Saxons mistook Cornish _mêdn_ for their own _maiden_. But even without +this, legends of a similar character would spring up wherever the popular +mind is startled by strange monuments, the history and purpose of which +has been forgotten. Thus Captain Meadows Taylor tells us that at +Vibat-Hullie the people told him “that the stones were men who, as they +stood marking out the places for the elephants of the king of the dwarfs, +were turned into stone by him, because they would not keep quiet.” And M. +de Cambry, as quoted by him, says in regard to Carnac, “that the rocks +were believed to be an army turned into stone, or the work of the +Croins,—men or demons, two or three feet high, who carried these rocks in +their hands, and placed them there.” + +A second class of Cornish antiquities comprises private buildings, whether +castles or huts or caves. What are called castles in Cornwall are simple +intrenchments, consisting of large and small stones piled up about ten or +twelve feet high, and held together by their own weight, without any +cement. There are everywhere traces of a ditch, then of a wall; sometimes, +as at Chûn Castle, of another ditch and another wall; and there is +generally some contrivance for protecting the principal entrance by walls +overlapping the ditches. Near these castles barrows are found, and in +several cases there are clear traces of a communication between them and +some ancient Celtic villages and caves, which seem to have been placed +under the protection of these primitive strongholds. Many of the cliffs in +Cornwall are fortified towards the land by walls and ditches, thus cutting +off these extreme promontories from communication with the land, as they +are by nature inaccessible from the sea. Some antiquarians ascribed these +castles to the Danes, the very last people, one would think, to shut +themselves up in such hopeless retreats. Here, too, as in other cases, a +popular etymology may have taken the place of an historical authority, and +the Cornish word for castle being _Dinas_ as in _Castle-an-Dinas_, +_Pendennis_, etc., the later Saxon-speaking population may have been +reminded by _Dinas_ of the Danes, and on the strength of this vague +similarity have ascribed to these pirates the erection of the Cornish +castles. + +It is indeed difficult, with regard to these castles, to be positive as to +the people by whom they were constructed. Tradition and history point to +Romans and Saxons, as well as to Celts; nor is it at all unlikely that +many of these half-natural, half-artificial strongholds, though originally +planned by the Celtic inhabitants, were afterwards taken possession of and +strengthened by Romans or Saxons. + +But no such doubts are allowed with regard to Cornish huts, of which some +striking remains have been preserved in Cornwall and other parts of +England, particularly in those which, to the very last, remained the true +home of the Celtic inhabitants of Britain. The houses and huts of the +Romans were rectangular, nor is there any evidence to show that the Saxon +ever approved of the circular style in domestic architecture. + +If, then, we find these so-called bee-hive huts in places peculiarly +Celtic, and if we remember that so early a writer as Strabo(57) was struck +with the same strange style of Celtic architecture, we can hardly be +suspected of Celtomania, if we claim them as Celtic workmanship, and dwell +with a more than ordinary interest on these ancient chambers, now long +deserted and nearly smothered with ferns and weeds, but in their general +planning, as well as in their masonry, clearly exhibiting before us +something of the arts and the life of the earliest inhabitants of these +isles. Let anybody who has a sense of antiquity, and who can feel the +spark which is sent on to us through an unbroken chain of history, when we +stand on the Acropolis or on the Capitol, or when we read a ballad of +Homer or a hymn of the Veda,—nay, if we but read in a proper spirit a +chapter of the Old Testament too,—let such a man look at the Celtic huts +at Bosprennis or Chysauster, and discover for himself, through the ferns +and brambles, the old gray walls, slightly sloping inward, and arranged +according to a design that cannot be mistaken; and miserable as these +shapeless clumps may appear to the thoughtless traveller, they will convey +to the true historian a lesson which he could hardly learn anywhere else. +The ancient Britons will no longer be a mere name to him, no mere +Pelasgians or Tyrrhenians. He has seen their homes and their handiwork; he +has stood behind the walls which protected their lives and property; he +has touched the stones which their hands piled up rudely, yet +thoughtfully. And if that small spark of sympathy for those who gave the +honored name of Britain to these islands has once been kindled among a few +who have the power of influencing public opinion in England, we feel +certain that something will be done to preserve what can still be +preserved of Celtic remains from further destruction. It does honor to the +British Parliament that large sums are granted, when it is necessary, to +bring to these safe shores whatever can still be rescued from the ruins of +Greece and Italy, of Lycia, Pergamos, Palestine, Egypt, Babylon, or +Nineveh. But while explorers and excavators are sent to those distant +countries, and the statues of Greece, the coffins of Egypt, and the winged +monsters of Nineveh, are brought home in triumph to the portals of the +British Museum, it is painful to see the splendid granite slabs of British +cromlechs thrown down and carted away, stone circles destroyed to make way +for farming improvements, and ancient huts and caves broken up to build +new houses and stables, with the stones thus ready to hand. It is high +time, indeed, that something should be done; and nothing will avail but to +place every truly historical monument under national protection. +Individual efforts may answer here and there, and a right spirit may be +awakened from time to time by local societies; but during intervals of +apathy mischief is done that can never be mended; and unless the damaging +of national monuments, even though they should stand on private ground, is +made a misdemeanor, we doubt whether, two hundred years hence, any +enterprising explorer would be as fortunate as Mr. Layard and Sir H. +Rawlinson have been in Babylon and Nineveh, and whether one single +cromlech would be left for him to carry away to the National Museum of the +Maoris. It is curious that the willful damage done to Logan Stones, once +in the time of Cromwell by Shrubsall, and more recently by Lieutenant +Goldsmith, should have raised such indignation, while acts of Vandalism, +committed against real antiquities, are allowed to pass unnoticed. Mr. +Scawen, in speaking of the mischief done by strangers in Cornwall, says:— + + + “Here, too, we may add, what wrong another sort of strangers has + done to us, especially in the civil wars, and in particular by + destroying of Mincamber, a famous monument, being a rock of + infinite weight, which, as a burden, was laid upon other great + stones, and yet so equally thereon poised up by Nature only, as a + little child could instantly move it, but no one man or many + remove it. This natural monument all travellers that came that way + desired to behold; but in the time of Oliver’s usurpation, when + all monumental things became despicable, one Shrubsall, one of + Oliver’s heroes, then Governor of Pendennis, by labor and much + ado, caused to be undermined and thrown down, to the great grief + of the country; but to his own great glory, as he thought, doing + it, as he said, with a small cane in his hand. I myself have heard + him to boast of this act, being a prisoner then under him.” + + +Mr. Scawen, however, does not tell us that this Shrubsall, in throwing +down the Mincamber, _i.e._ the Mênamber, acted very like the old +missionaries in felling the sacred oaks in Germany. Merlin, it was +believed, had proclaimed that this stone should stand until England had no +king; and as Cornwall was a stronghold of the Stuarts, the destruction of +this loyal stone may have seemed a matter of wise policy. + +Even the foolish exploit of Lieutenant Goldsmith, in 1824, would seem to +have had some kind of excuse. Dr. Borlase had asserted “that it was +_morally_ impossible that any lever, or indeed force, however applied in a +mechanical way, could remove the famous Logan rock at Trereen Dinas from +its present position.” Ptolemy, the son of Hephæstion, had made a similar +remark about the Gigoman rock,(58) stating that it might be stirred with +the stalk of an asphodel, but could not be removed by any force. +Lieutenant Goldsmith, living in an age of experimental philosophy, +undertook the experiment, in order to show that it was _physically_ +possible to overthrow the Logan; and he did it. He was, however, very +properly punished for this unscientific experiment, and he had to replace +the stone at his own expense. + +As this matter is really serious, we have drawn up a short list of acts of +Vandalism committed in Cornwall within the memory of living man. That list +could easily be increased, but even as it is, we hope it may rouse the +attention of the public:— + +Between St. Ives and Zennor, on the lower road over Tregarthen Downs, +stood a Logan rock. An old man, perhaps ninety years of age, told Mr. +Hunt, who mentions this and other cases in the preface to his charming +collection of Cornish tales and legends, that he had often logged it, and +that it would make a noise which could _be heard for miles_. + +At Balnoon, between Nancledrea and Knill’s Steeple, some miners came upon +“two slabs of granite cemented together,” which covered a walled grave +three feet square, an ancient kist-vaen. In it they found an earthenware +vessel, containing some black earth and a leaden spoon. The spoon was +given to Mr. Praed, of Trevethow; the kist-vaen was utterly destroyed. + +In Bosprennis Cross there was a very large coit or cromlech. It is said to +have been fifteen feet square, and not more than one foot thick in any +part. This was broken in two parts some years since, and taken to Penzance +to form the beds of two ovens. + +The curious caves and passages at Chysauster have been destroyed for +building purposes within living memory. + +Another Cornishman, Mr. Bellows, reports as follows:— + + + “In a field between the recently discovered Beehive hut and the + Boscawen-ûn circle, out of the public road, we discovered part of + a ‘Nine Maidens,’ perhaps the third of the circle, the rest of the + stones being dragged out and placed against the hedge, to make + room for the plough.” + + +The same intelligent antiquarian remarks:— + + + “The Boscawen-ûn circle seems to have consisted originally of + twenty stones. Seventeen of them are upright, two are down, and a + gap exists of exactly the double space for the twentieth. We found + the missing stone not twenty yards off. A farmer had removed it, + and made it into a gate-post. He had cut a road through the + circle, and in such a manner that he was obliged to remove the + offending stone to keep it straight. Fortunately the present + proprietress is a lady of taste, and has surrounded the circle + with a good hedge to prevent further Vandalism.” + + +Of the Mên-an-tol, at Boleit, we have received the following description +from Mr. Botterell, who supplied Mr. Hunt with so many of his Cornish +tales:— + + + “These stones are from twenty to twenty-five feet above the + surface, and we were told by some folks of Boleit that more than + ten feet had been sunk near, without finding the base. The + Mên-an-tol have both been displaced, and removed a considerable + distance from their original site. They are now placed in a hedge, + to form the side of a gateway. The upper portion of one is so much + broken that one cannot determine the angle, yet that it worked to + an angle is quite apparent. The other is turned downward, and + serves as the hanging-post of a gate. From the head being buried + so deep in the ground, only part of the hole (which is in both + stones about six inches diameter) could be seen; though the hole + is too small to pop the smallest, or all but the smallest, baby + through, the people call them _crick-stones_, and maintain they + were so called before they were born. Crick-stones were used for + dragging people through, to cure them of various diseases.” + + +The same gentleman, writing to one of the Cornish papers, informs the +public that a few years ago a rock known by the name of Garrack-zans might +be seen in the town-place of Sawah, in the parish of St. Levan; another in +Roskestal, in the same parish. One is also said to have been removed from +near the centre of Trereen, by the family of Jans, to make a grander +approach to their mansion. The ruins, which still remain, are known by the +name of the Jans House, although the family became extinct soon after +perpetrating what was regarded by the old inhabitants as a sacrilegious +act. The Garrack-zans may still be remaining in Roskestal and Sawah, but, +as much alteration has recently taken place in these villages, in +consequence of building new farm-houses, making new roads, etc., it is a +great chance if they have not been either removed or destroyed. + +Mr. J. T. Blight, the author of one of the most useful little guide-books +of Cornwall, “A Week at the Land’s End,” states that some eight or ten +years ago the ruins of the ancient Chapel of St. Eloy, in St. Burian, were +thrown over the cliff by the tenant of the estate, without the knowledge +or permission of the owner of the property. Chûn Castle, he says, one of +the finest examples of early military architecture in this kingdom, has +for many years been resorted to as a sort of quarry. The same applies to +Castle-an-Dinas. + +From an interesting paper on Castallack Round by the same antiquarian, we +quote the following passages, showing the constant mischief that is going +on, whether due to downright Vandalism or to ignorance and indifference:— + + + “From a description of Castallack Round, in the parish of St. + Paul, written by Mr. Crozier, perhaps fourteen or fifteen years + ago, it appears that there was a massive outer wall, with an + entrance on the south; from which a colonnade of stones led to an + inner inclosure, also formed with stones, and nine feet in + diameter. Mr. Haliwell, so recently as 1861, refers to the avenue + of upright stones leading from the outer to the inner inclosure. + + + “On visiting the spot a few days ago (in 1865), I was surprised to + find that not only were there no remains of an avenue of stones, + but that the existence of an inner inclosure could scarcely be + traced. It was, in fact, evident that some modern Vandal had here + been at work. A laborer, employed in the field close by, with a + complaisant smile, informed me that the old Round had been dug + into last year, for the sake of the stones. I found, however, + enough of the work left to be worthy of a few notes, sufficient to + show that it was a kindred structure to that at Kerris, known as + the Roundago, and described and figured in Borlase’s ‘Antiquities + of Cornwall.’ ... Mr. Crozier also refers to a stone, five feet + high, which stood within a hundred yards of the Castallack Round, + and from which the Pipers at Boleit could be seen. + + + “The attention of the Royal Institution of Cornwall has been + repeatedly called to the destruction of Cornish antiquities, and + the interference of landed proprietors has been frequently invoked + in aid of their preservation; but it unfortunately happens, in + most cases, that important remains are demolished by the tenants + without the knowledge or consent of the landlords. On comparing + the present condition of the Castallack Round with a description + of its appearance so recently as in 1861, I find that the greater + and more interesting part has been barbarously and irreparably + destroyed; and I regret to say, I could draw up a long list of + ancient remains in Cornwall, partially or totally demolished + within the last few years.” + + +We can hardly hope that the wholesome superstition which prevented people +in former days from desecrating their ancient monuments will be any +protection to them much longer, though the following story shows that some +grains of the old leaven are still left in the Cornish mind. Near Carleen, +in Breage, an old cross has been removed from its place, and now does duty +as a gate-post. The farmer occupying the farm where the cross stood, set +his laborer to sink a pit in the required spot for the gate-post, but when +it was intimated that the cross standing at a little distance off was to +be erected therein, the man absolutely refused to have any hand in the +matter, not on account of the beautiful or the antique, but for fear of +the old people. Another farmer related that he had a neighbor who “haeled +down a lot of stoans called the Roundago, and sold ’em for building the +docks at Penzance. But not a penny of the money he got for ’em ever +prospered, and there wasn’t wan of the hosses that haeld ’em that lived +out the twelvemonth; and they do say that some of the stoans do weep +blood, but I don’t believe that.” + +There are many antiquarians who affect to despise the rude architecture of +the Celts, nay, who would think the name of architecture disgraced if +applied to cromlechs and bee-hive huts. But even these will perhaps be +more willing to lend a helping hand in protecting the antiquities of +Cornwall when they hear that even ancient Norman masonry is no longer safe +in that country. An antiquarian writes to us from Cornwall: “I heard of +some farmers in Meneage (the Lizard district) who dragged down an ancient +well and rebuilt it. When called to task for it, they said, ‘The ould +thing was so shaky that a wasn’t fit to be seen, so we thought we’d putten +to rights and build’un up _fitty_.’ ” + +Such things, we feel sure, should not be, and would not be, allowed any +longer, if public opinion, or the public conscience, was once roused. Let +people laugh at Celtic monuments as much as they like, if they will only +help to preserve their laughing-stocks from destruction. Let antiquarians +be as skeptical as they like, if they will only prevent the dishonest +withdrawal of the evidence against which their skepticism is directed. Are +lake-dwellings in Switzerland, are flint-deposits in France, is +kitchen-rubbish in Denmark, so very precious, and are the magnificent +cromlechs, the curious holed stones, and even the rock-basins of Cornwall, +so contemptible? There is a fashion even in scientific tastes. For thirty +years M. Boucher de Perthes could hardly get a hearing for his +flint-heads, and now he has become the centre of interest for geologists, +anthropologists, and physiologists. There is every reason to expect that +the interest, once awakened in the early history of our own race, will go +on increasing; and two hundred years hence the antiquarians and +anthropologists of the future will call us hard names if they find out how +we allowed these relics of the earliest civilization of England to be +destroyed. It is easy to say, What is there in a holed stone? It is a +stone with a hole in it, and that is all. We do not wish to propound new +theories; but in order to show how full of interest even a stone with a +hole in it may become, we will just mention that the _Mên-an-tol_, or the +holed stone which stands in one of the fields near Lanyon, is flanked by +two other stones standing erect on each side. Let any one go there to +watch a sunset about the time of the autumnal equinox, and he will see +that the shadow thrown by the erect stone would fall straight through the +hole of the _Mên-an-tol_. We know that the great festivals of the ancient +world were regulated by the sun, and that some of these festive +seasons—the winter solstice about Yule-tide or Christmas, the vernal +equinox about Easter, the summer solstice on Midsummer-eve, about St. John +Baptist’s day, and the autumnal equinox about Michaelmas—are still kept, +under changed names and with new objects, in our own time. This +_Mên-an-tol_ may be an old dial erected originally to fix the proper time +for the celebration of the autumnal equinox; and though it may have been +applied to other purposes likewise, such as the curing of children by +dragging them several times through the hole, still its original intention +may have been astronomical. It is easy to test this observation, and to +find out whether the same remark does not hold good of other stones in +Cornwall, as, for instance, the Two Pipers. We do not wish to attribute to +this guess as to the original intention of the _Mên-an-tol_ more +importance than it deserves, nor would we in any way countenance the +opinion of those who, beginning with Cæsar, ascribe to the Celts and their +Druids every kind of mysterious wisdom. A mere shepherd, though he had +never heard the name of the equinox, might have erected such a stone for +his own convenience, in order to know the time when he might safely bring +his flocks out, or take them back to their safer stables. But this would +in no way diminish the interest of the _Mên-an-tol_. It would still remain +one of the few relics of the childhood of our race; one of the witnesses +of the earliest workings of the human mind in its struggle against, and in +its alliance with, the powers of nature; one of the vestiges of the first +civilization of the British Isles. Even the Romans, who carried their +Roman roads in a straight line through the countries they had conquered, +undeterred by any obstacles, unawed by any sanctuaries, respected, as can +hardly be doubted, Silbury Hill, and made the road from Bath to London +diverge from the usual straight line, instead of cutting through that +time-honored mound. Would the engineers of our railways show a similar +regard for any national monument, whether Celtic, Roman, or Saxon? When +Charles II., in 1663, went to see the Celtic remains of Abury, sixty-three +stones were still standing within the intrenched inclosure. Not quite a +hundred years later they had dwindled down to forty-four, the rest having +been used for building purposes. Dr. Stukeley, who published a description +of Abury in 1743, tells us that he himself saw the upper stone of the +great cromlech there broken and carried away, the fragments of it making +no less than twenty cart-loads. After another century had passed, +seventeen stones only remained within the great inclosure, and these, too, +are being gradually broken up and carted away. Surely such things ought +not to be. Let those whom it concerns look to it before it is too late. +These Celtic monuments are public property as much as London Stone, +Coronation Stone, or Westminster Abbey, and posterity will hold the +present generation responsible for the safe keeping of the national +heirlooms of England.(59) + + + + + +XIV. ARE THERE JEWS IN CORNWALL? + + +There is hardly a book on Cornish history or antiquities in which we are +not seriously informed that at some time or other the Jews migrated to +Cornwall, or worked as slaves in Cornish mines. Some writers state this +simply as a fact requiring no further confirmation; others support it by +that kind of evidence which Herodotus, no doubt, would have considered +sufficient for establishing the former presence of Pelasgians in different +parts of Greece, but which would hardly have satisfied Niebuhr, still less +Sir G. C. Lewis. Old smelting-houses, they tell us, are still called +_Jews’ houses_ in Cornwall; and if, even after that, anybody could be so +skeptical as to doubt that the Jews, after the destruction of Jerusalem, +were sent in large numbers to work as slaves in the Cornish mines, he is +silenced at once by an appeal to the name of _Marazion_, the well-known +town opposite St. Michael’s Mount, which means the “bitterness of Zion,” +and is also called _Market Jew_. Many a traveller has no doubt shaken his +unbelieving head, and asked himself how it is that no real historian +should ever have mentioned the migration of the Jews to the Far West, +whether it took place under Nero or under one of the later Flavian +Emperors. Yet all the Cornish guides are positive on the subject, and the +_primâ facie_ evidence is certainly so startling that we can hardly wonder +if certain anthropologists discovered even the sharply marked features of +the Jewish race among the sturdy fishermen of Mount’s Bay. + +Before we examine the facts on which this Jewish theory is founded,—facts, +as will be seen, chiefly derived from names of places, and other relics of +language,—it will be well to inquire a little into the character of the +Cornish language, so that we may know what kind of evidence we have any +right to expect from such a witness. + +The ancient language of Cornwall, as is well known, was a Celtic dialect, +closely allied to the languages of Brittany and Wales, and less nearly, +though by no means distantly, related to the languages of Ireland, +Scotland, and the Isle of Man. Cornish began to die out in Cornwall about +the time of the Reformation, being slowly but surely supplanted by +English, till it was buried with Dolly Pentreath and similar worthies +about the end of the last century.(60) Now there is in most languages, but +more particularly in those which are losing their consciousness or their +vitality, what, by a name borrowed from geology, may be called a +_metamorphic process_. It consists chiefly in this, that words, as they +cease to be properly understood, are slightly changed, generally with the +object of imparting to them once more an intelligible meaning. This new +meaning is mostly a mistaken one, yet it is not only readily accepted, but +the word in its new dress and with its new character is frequently made to +support facts or fictions which could be supported by no other evidence. +Who does not believe that sweetheart has something to do with _heart_? Yet +it was originally formed like _drunk-ard_, _dull-ard_, and _nigg-ard_; and +poets, not grammarians, are responsible for the mischief it may have done +under its plausible disguise. By the same process, _shamefast_, formed +like _steadfast_ and still properly spelt by Chaucer and in the early +editions of the Authorized Version of the Bible, has long become +_shamefaced_, bringing before us the blushing roses of a lovely face. The +_Vikings_, mere pirates from the _viks_ or creeks of Scandinavia, have, by +the same process, been raised to the dignity of kings; just as _coat +cards_—the king, and queen, and knave in their gorgeous gowns—were exalted +into _court cards_. + +Although this kind of metamorphosis takes place in every language, yet it +is most frequent in countries where two languages come in contact with +each other, and where, in the end, one is superseded by the other. +_Robertus Curtus_, the eldest son of the Conqueror, was by the Saxons +called _Curt-hose_. The name of _Oxford_ contains in its first syllable an +old Celtic word, the well-known term for water or river, which occurs as +_ux_ in _Uxbridge_, as _ex_ in _Exmouth_, as _ax_ in _Axmouth_, and in +many more disguises down to the _whisk_ of _whiskey_, the Scotch +_Usquebaugh_.(61) In the name of the _Isis_, and of the suburb of _Osney_, +the same Celtic word has been preserved. The Saxons kept the Celtic name +of the river, and they called the place where one of the Roman roads +crossed the river Ox, _Oxford_. The name, however, was soon mistaken, and +interpreted as purely Saxon; and if any one should doubt that Oxford was a +kind of _Bosphorus_, and meant a ford for oxen, the ancient arms of the +city were readily appealed to in order to cut short all doubts on the +subject. The Welsh name _Ryt-yhcen_ for Oxford was a retranslation into +Welsh of an original Celtic name, to which a new form and a new meaning +had been given by the Saxon conquerors. + +Similar accidents happened to Greek words after they were adopted by the +people of Italy, particularly by the Romans. The Latin _orichalcum_, for +instance, is simply the Greek word ὀρείχαλκος, from ὄρος, mountain, and +χαλκός, copper. Why it was called mountain-copper, no one seems to know. +It was originally a kind of fabulous metal, brought to light from the +brains of the poet rather than from the bowels of the earth. Though the +poets, and even Plato, speak of it as, after gold, the most precious of +metals, Aristotle sternly denies that there ever was any real metal +corresponding to the extravagant descriptions of the ὀρείχαλκος. +Afterwards the same word was used in a more sober and technical sense, +though it is not always easy to say when it means copper, or bronze +(_i.e._ copper and tin), or brass (_i.e._ copper and zinc). The Latin +poets not only adopted the Greek word in the fabulous sense in which they +found it used in Homer, but forgetting that the first portion of the name +was derived from the Greek ὄρος, hill, they pronounced and even spelt it +as if derived from the Latin _aurum_, gold, and thus found a new +confirmation of its equality with gold, which would have greatly surprised +the original framers of that curious compound.(62) + +In a county like Cornwall, where the ancient Celtic dialect continued to +be spoken, though disturbed and overlaid from time to time by Latin, +Saxon, and Norman, where Celts had to adopt certain Saxon and Norman, and +Saxons and Normans certain Celtic words, we have a right to expect an +ample field for observing this metamorphic process, and for tracing its +influence in the transformation of names, and in the formation of legends, +traditions, nay even, as we shall see, in the production of generally +accepted historical facts. To call this process _metamorphic_, using that +name in the sense given to it by geologists, may at first sight seem +pedantic and far-fetched. But if we see how a new language forms what may +be called a new stratum covering the old language; how the life or heat of +the old language, though apparently extinct, breaks forth again through +the superincumbent crust, destroys its regular features and assimilates +its stratified layers with its own igneous or volcanic nature, our +comparison, though somewhat elaborate, will be justified to a great +extent, and we shall only have to ask our geological readers to make +allowance for this, that, in languages, the foreign element has always to +be considered as the superincumbent stratum, Cornish forming the crust to +English or English to Cornish, according as the speaker uses the one or +the other as his native or as his acquired speech. + +Our first witness in support of this metamorphic process is Mr. Scawen, +who lived about two hundred years ago, a true Cornishman, though he wrote +in English, or in what he is pleased so to call. In blaming the Cornish +gentry and nobility for having attempted to give to their ancient and +honorable names a kind of Norman varnish, and for having adopted +new-fangled coats of arms, Mr. Scawen remarks on the several mistakes, +intentional or unintentional, that occurred in this foolish process. “The +grounds of two several mistakes,” he writes, “are very obvious: 1st, upon +the _Tre_ or _Ter_; 2d, upon the _Ross_ or _Rose_. _Tre_ or _Ter_ in +Cornish commonly signifies a town, or rather place, and it has always an +adjunct with it. _Tri_ is the number 3. Those men willingly mistake one +for another. And so, in French heraldry terms, they used to fancy and +contrive those with any such three things as may be like, or cohere with, +or may be adapted to anything or things in their surnames, whether very +handsome or not is not much stood upon. Another usual mistake is upon +_Ross_, which, as they seem to fancy, should be a Rose, but _Ross_ in +Cornish is a vale or valley. Now for this their French-Latin tutors, when +they go into the field of Mars, put them in their coat armor prettily to +smell out a Rose or flower (a fading honor instead of a durable one); so +any three such things, agreeable perhaps a little to their names, are +taken up and retained from abroad, when their own at home have a much +better scent and more lasting.” + +Some amusing instances of what may be called Saxon puns on Cornish words +have been communicated to me by a Cornish friend of mine, Mr. Bellows. +“The old Cornish name for Falmouth,” he writes, “was _Penny come +quick_,(63) and they tell a most improbable story to account for it. I +believe the whole compound is the Cornish _Pen y cwm gwic_, ‘Head of the +creek valley.’ In like manner they have turned _Bryn uhella_ (highest +hill) into _Brown Willy_, and _Cwm ty goed_ (woodhouse valley) into _Come +to good_.” To this might be added the common etymologies of _Helstone_ and +_Camelford_. The former name has nothing to do with the Saxon _helstone_, +a covering stone, or with the infernal regions, but meant “place on the +river;” the latter, in spite of the camel in the arms of the town, meant +the ford of the river Camel. A frequent mistake arises from the +misapprehension of the Celtic _dun_, hill, which enters in the composition +of many local names, and was changed by the Saxons into _town_ or _tun_. +Thus _Meli-dunum_ is now _Moulton_, _Seccan-dun_ is _Seckington_, and +_Beamdun_ is _Bampton_.(64) + +This transformation of Celtic into Saxon or Norman terms is not confined, +however, to the names of families, towns, and villages; and we shall see +how the fables to which it has given rise have not only disfigured the +records of some of the most ancient families in Cornwall, but have thrown +a haze over the annals of the whole county. + +Returning to the Jews in their Cornish exile, we find, no doubt, as +mentioned before, that even in the Ordnance maps the little town opposite +St. Michael’s Mount is called _Marazion_ and _Market Jew_. _Marazion_ +sounds decidedly like Hebrew, and might signify _Mârâh_, “bitterness, +grief,” _Zion_, “of Zion.” M. Esquiros, a believer in Cornish Jews, thinks +that _Mara_ might be a corruption of the Latin _Amara_, bitter; but he +forgets that this etymology would really defeat its very object, and +destroy the Hebrew origin of the name. The next question therefore is, +What is the real origin of the name _Marazion_, and of its _alias_, +_Market Jew_? It cannot be too often repeated that inquiries into the +origin of local names are, in the first place, historical, and only in the +second place, philological. To attempt an explanation of any name, without +having first traced it back to the earliest form in which we can find it, +is to set at defiance the plainest rules of the science of language as +well as of the science of history. Even if the interpretation of a local +name should be right, it would be of no scientific value without the +preliminary inquiry into its history, which frequently consists in a +succession of the most startling changes and corruptions. Those who are at +all familiar with the history of Cornish names of places will not be +surprised to find the same name written in four or five, nay, in ten +different ways. The fact is that those who pronounced the names were +frequently ignorant of their real import, and those who had to write them +down could hardly catch their correct pronunciation. Thus we find that +Camden calls Marazion _Merkiu_; Carew, _Marcaiew_. Leland in his +“Itinerary” (about 1538) uses the names _Markesin_, _Markine_ (vol. iii. +fol. 4); and in another place (vol. vii. fol. 119) he applies, it would +seem, to the same town the name of _Marasdeythyon_. William of Worcester +(about 1478) writes promiscuously _Markysyoo_ (p. 103), _Marchew_ and +_Margew_ (p. 133), _Marchasyowe_ and _Markysyow_ (p. 98). In a charter of +Queen Elizabeth, dated 1595, the name is written _Marghasiewe_; in another +of the year 1313, _Markesion_; in another of 1309, _Markasyon_; in another +of Richard, Earl of Cornwall (_Rex Romanorum_, 1257), _Marchadyon_, which +seems the oldest, and at the same time the most primitive form.(65) +Besides these, Dr. Oliver has found in different title-deeds the following +varieties of the same name:—_Marghasion_, _Markesiow_, _Marghasiew_, +_Maryazion_, and _Marazion_. The only explanation of the name which we +meet with in early writers, such as Leland, Camden, and Carew, is that it +meant “Thursday Market.” Leland explains _Marasdeythyon_ by _forum Jovis_. +Camden explains _Merkiu_ in the same manner, and Carew takes _Marcaiew_ as +originally _Marhas diew_, _i.e._ “Thursdaies market, for then it useth +this traffike.” + +This interpretation of _Marhasdiew_ as Thursday Market, appears at first +very plausible, and it has at all events far better claims on our +acceptance than the modern Hebrew etymology of “Bitterness of Zion.” But, +strange to say, although from a charter of Robert, Earl of Cornwall, it +appears that the monks of the Mount had the privilege of holding a market +on Thursday (_die quintæ feriæ_), there is no evidence, and no +probability, that a town so close to the Mount as Marazion ever held a +market on the same day.(66) Thursday in Cornish was called _deyow_, not +_diew_. The only additional evidence we get is this, that in the taxation +of Bishop Walter Bronescombe, made August 12, 1261, and quoted in Bishop +Stapledon’s register of 1313, the place is called _Markesion de parvo +mercato_,(67) and that in a charter of Richard, King of the Romans and +Earl of Cornwall, permission was granted to the prior of St. Michael’s +Mount that three markets, which formerly had been held in _Marghasbigan_, +on ground not belonging to him, should in future be held on his own ground +in _Marchadyon_. _Parvus mercatus_ is evidently the same place as +_Marghasbigan_, for _Marghas-bigan_ means in Cornish the same as _Mercatus +parvus_, namely, “Little Market.” The charter of Richard, Earl of +Cornwall, is more perplexing, and it would seem to yield no sense, unless +we again take _Marchadyon_ as a mere variety of _Marghasbigan_, and +suppose that the privilege granted to the prior of St. Michael’s Mount +consisted really in transferring the fair from land in Marazion not +belonging to him, to land in Marazion belonging to him. Anyhow, it is +clear that in _Marazion_ we have some kind of name for market. + +The old Cornish word for market is _marchas_, a corruption of the Latin +_mercatus_. Originally the Cornish word must have been _marchad_, and this +form is preserved in Armorican, while in Cornish the _ch_ gradually sunk +to _h_, and the final _d_ to _s_. This change of _d_ into _s_ is of +frequent occurrence in modern as compared with ancient Cornish, and the +history of our word will enable us, to a certain extent, to fix the time +when that change took place. In the charter of Richard, Earl of Cornwall +(about 1257), we find _Marchadyon_; in a charter of 1309, _Markasyon_. The +change of _d_ into _s_ had taken place during these fifty years.(68) But +what is the termination _yon?_ Considering that Marazion is called the +Little Market, I should like to see in _yon_ the diminutive Cornish +suffix, corresponding to the Welsh _yn_. But if this should be objected +to, on the ground that no such diminutives occur in the literary monuments +of the Cornish language, another explanation is open, which was first +suggested to me by Mr. Bellows: _Marchadion_ may be taken as a perfectly +regular plural in Cornish, and we should then have to suppose that, +instead of being called the Market or the Little Market, the place was +called, from its three statute markets, “The Markets.” And this would help +us to explain, not only the gradual growth of the name Marazion, but +likewise, I think, the gradual formation of “Market Jew;” for another +termination of the plural in Cornish is _ieu_, which, added to _Marchad_, +would give us _Marchadieu_.(69) + +Now it is perfectly true that no real Cornishman, I mean no man who spoke +Cornish, would ever have taken _Marchadiew_ for Market Jew, or Jews’ +Market. The name for Jew in Cornish is quite different. It is _Edhow_, +_Yedhow_, _Yudhow_, corrupted likewise into _Ezow_; plural, _Yedhewon_, +etc. But to a Saxon ear the Cornish name _Marchadiew_ might well convey +the idea of _Market Jew_, and thus, by a metamorphic process, a name +meaning in Cornish the Markets would give rise in a perfectly natural +manner, not only to the two names, Marazion and Market Jew, but likewise +to the historical legends of Jews settled in the county of Cornwall.(70) + +But there still remain the _Jews’ houses_, the name given, it is said, to +the old, deserted smelting-houses in Cornwall, and in Cornwall only. +Though, in the absence of any historical evidence as to the employment of +this term _Jew’s house_ in former ages, it will be more difficult to +arrive at its original form and meaning, yet an explanation offers itself +which, by a procedure very similar to that which was applied to _Marazion_ +and _Market Jew_, may account for the origin of this name likewise. + +The Cornish name for house was originally _ty_. In modern Cornish, +however, to quote from Lhuyd’s Grammar, _t_ has been changed to _tsh_, as +_ti_, thou, _tshei_; _ty_, a house, _tshey_; which _tsh_ is also sometimes +changed to _dzh_, as _ol mein y dzkyi_, “all in the house.” Out of this +_dzhyi_ we may easily understand how a Saxon mouth and a Saxon ear might +have elicited a sound somewhat like the English _Jew_. + +But we do not get at _Jews’ house_ by so easy a road, if indeed we get at +it at all. We are told that a smelting-house was called a White-house, in +Cornish _Chiwidden_, _widden_ standing for _gwydn_, which is a corruption +of the old Cornish _gwyn_, white. This name of Chiwidden is a famous name +in Cornish hagiography. He was the companion of St. Perran, or St. Piran, +the most popular saint among the mining population of Cornwall. + +Mr. Hunt, who in his interesting work, “The Popular Romances of the West +of England,” has assigned a separate chapter to Cornish saints, tells us +how St. Piran, while living in Ireland, fed ten Irish kings and their +armies, for ten days together, with three cows. Notwithstanding this and +other miracles, some of these kings condemned him to be cast off a +precipice into the sea, with a millstone round his neck. St. Piran, +however, floated on safely to Cornwall, and he landed, on the 5th of +March, on the sands which still bear his name, _Perranzabuloe_, or _Perran +on the Sands_. + +The lives of saints form one of the most curious subjects for the +historian, and still more for the student of language; and the day, no +doubt, will come when it will be possible to take those wonderful +conglomerates of fact and fiction to pieces, and, as in one of those huge +masses of graywacke or rubblestone, to assign each grain and fragment to +the stratum from which it was taken, before they were all rolled together +and cemented by the ebb and flow of popular tradition. With regard to the +lives of Irish and Scotch and British saints, it ought to be stated, for +the credit of the pious authors of the “Acta Sanctorum,” that even they +admit their tertiary origin. “During the twelfth century,” they say, “when +many of the ancient monasteries in Ireland were handed over to monks from +England, and many new houses were built for them, these monks began to +compile the acts of the saints with greater industry than judgment. They +collected all they could find among the uncertain traditions of the +natives and in obscure Irish writings, following the example of Jocelin, +whose work on the acts of St. Patrick had been received everywhere with +wonderful applause. But many of them have miserably failed, so that the +foolish have laughed at them, and the wise been filled with indignation.” +(“Bollandi Acta,” 5th of March, p. 390, B). In the same work (p. 392, A), +it is pointed out that the Irish monks, whenever they heard of any saints +in other parts of England whose names and lives reminded them of Irish +saints, at once concluded that they were of Irish origin; and that the +people in some parts of England, as they possessed no written acts of +their popular saints, were glad to identify their own with the famous +saints of the Irish Church. This has evidently happened in the case of St. +Piran. St. Piran, in one of his characters, is certainly a truly Cornish +saint; but when the monks in Cornwall heard the wonderful legends of the +Irish saint, St. Kiran, they seem to have grafted their own St. Piran on +the Irish St. Kiran. The difference in the names must have seemed less to +them than to us; for words which in Cornish are pronounced with _p_, are +pronounced, as a rule, in Irish with _k_. Thus, head in Cornish is _pen_, +in Irish _ceann_, son is _map_, in Irish _mac_. The town built at the +eastern extremity of the wall of Severus, was called _Penguaul_, _i.e._ +_pen_, caput, _guaul_, walls; the English call it _Penel-tun_, while in +Scotch it was pronounced _Cenail_.(71) That St. Kiran had originally +nothing to do with St. Piran can still be proved, for the earlier Lives of +St. Kiran, though full of fabulous stories, represent him as dying in +Ireland. His saint’s day was the 5th of March; that of St. Piran, the 2d +of May. The later Lives, however, though they say nothing as yet of the +millstone, represent St. Kiran, when a very old man, as suddenly leaving +his country in order that he might die in Cornwall. We are told that +suddenly, when already near his death, he called together his little +flock, and said to them: “My dear brothers and sons, according to a divine +disposition I must leave Ireland and go to Cornwall, and wait for the end +of my life there. I cannot resist the will of God.” He then sailed to +Cornwall, and built himself a house, where he performed many miracles. He +was buried in Cornwall on the sandy sea, fifteen miles from Petrokstowe, +and twenty-five miles from Mousehole.(72) In this manner the Irish and the +Cornish saints, who originally had nothing in common but their names, +became amalgamated,(73) and the saint’s day of St. Piran was moved from +the 2d of May to the 5th of March. Yet although thus welded into one, +nothing could well be imagined more different than the characters of the +Irish and of the Cornish saint. The Irish saint lived a truly ascetic +life; he preached, wrought miracles, and died. The Cornish saint was a +jolly miner, not always very steady on his legs.(74) Let us hear what the +Cornish have to tell of him. His name occurs in several names of places, +such as Perran Zabuloe, Perran Uthno, in Perran the Little, and in Perran +Ar-worthall. His name, pronounced Perran, or Piran, has been further +corrupted into Picras, and Picrous, though some authorities suppose that +this is again a different saint from St. Piran. Anyhow, both St. Perran +and St. Picras live in the memory of the Cornish miner as the discoverers +of tin; and the tinners’ great holiday, the Thursday before Christmas, is +still called Picrou’s day.(75) The legend relates that St. Piran, when +still in Cornwall, employed a heavy black stone as a part of his +fire-place. The fire was more intense than usual, and a stream of +beautiful white metal flowed out of the fire. Great was the joy of the +saint, and he communicated his discovery to St. Chiwidden. They examined +the stone together, and Chiwidden, who was learned in the learning of the +East, soon devised a process for producing this metal in large quantities. +The two saints called the Cornishmen together. They told them of their +treasures, and they taught them how to dig the ore from the earth, and +how, by the agency of fire, to obtain the metal. Great was the joy in +Cornwall, and many days of feasting followed the announcement. Mead and +metheglin, with other drinks, flowed in abundance; and vile rumor says the +saints and their people were rendered equally unstable thereby. “Drunk as +a Perraner” has certainly passed into a proverb from that day. + +It is quite clear from these accounts that the legendary discoverer of tin +in Cornwall was originally a totally different character from the Irish +saint, St. Kiran. If one might indulge in a conjecture, I should say that +there probably was in the Celtic language a root _kar_, which in the +Cymbric branch would assume the form _par_. Now _cair_ in Gaelic means to +dig, to raise; and from it a substantive might be derived, meaning digger +or miner. In Ireland, _Kiran_ seems to have been simply a proper name, +like Smith or Baker, for there is nothing in the legends of St. Kiran that +points to mining or smelting. In Cornwall, on the contrary, St. Piran, +before he was engrafted on St. Kiran, was probably nothing but a +personification or apotheosis of the Miner, as much as Dorus was the +personification of the Dorians, and Brutus the first King of Britain. + +The rule, “noscitur a sociis,” may be applied to St. Piran. His friend and +associate, St. Chiwidden, or St. Whitehouse, is a personification of the +white-house, _i.e._ the smelting-house, without which St. Piran, the +miner, would have been a very useless saint. If Chywidden, _i.e._ the +smelting-house, became the St. Chywidden, why should we look in the +Cornish St. Piran for anything beyond Piran, _i.e._ the miner? + +However, what is of importance to us for our present object is not St. +Piran, but St. Chywidden, the white-house or smelting-house. We are +looking all this time for the original meaning of the Jews’ houses, and +the question is, how can we, starting from Chywidden, arrive at +Jews’-house? I am afraid we can not do so without a jump or two; all we +can do is to show that they are jumps which language herself is fond of +taking, and which therefore we must not shirk, if we wish to ride straight +after her. + +Well, then, the first jump which language frequently takes is this, that +instead of using a noun with a qualifying adjective, such as white-house, +the noun by itself is used without any such qualification. This can, of +course, be done with very prominent words only, words which are used so +often, and which express ideas so constantly present to the mind of the +speaker, that no mistake is likely to arise. In English, “the House” is +used for the House of Commons; in later Latin “domus” was used for the +House of God. Among fisherman in Scotland “fish” means salmon. In Greek +λίθος, stone, in the feminine, is used for the magnet, originally Μαγνῆτις +λίθος while the masculine λίθος means a stone in general. In Cornwall, +_ore_ by itself means copper ore only, while tin ore is called black tin. +In times, therefore, when the whole attention of Cornwall was absorbed by +mining and smelting, and when smelting-houses were most likely the only +large buildings that seemed to deserve the name of houses, there is +nothing extraordinary in _tshey_ or _dzhyi_, even without _widden_, white, +having become the recognized name for smelting-houses. + +But now comes a second jump, and again one that can be proved to have been +a very favorite one with many languages. When people speaking different +languages live together in the same country, they frequently, in adopting +a foreign term, add to it, by way of interpretation, the word that +corresponds to it in their own language. Thus _Portsmouth_ is a name half +Latin and half English. _Portus_ was the Roman name given to the harbor. +This was adopted by the Saxons, but interpreted at the same time by a +Saxon word, namely, _mouth_, which really means harbor. This +interpretation was hardly intentional, but arose naturally. _Port_ first +became a kind of proper name, and then _mouth_ was added, so that “the +mouth of Port,” _i.e._ of the place called _Portus_ by the Romans, became +at last Portsmouth. But this does not satisfy the early historians, and, +as happens so frequently when there is anything corrupt in language, a +legend springs up almost spontaneously to remove all doubts and +difficulties. Thus we read in the venerable Saxon Chronicle under the year +501, “that Port came to Britain with his two sons, Bieda and Maegla, with +two ships, and their place was called Portsmouth; and they slew a British +man, a very noble man.”(76) Such is the growth of legends, aye, and in +many cases the growth of history. + +Formed on the same principle as Portsmouth we find such words as +_Hayle-river_, the Cornish _hal_ by itself meaning salt marsh, moor, or +estuary; _Treville_ or _Trou-ville_, where the Celtic _tre_, town, is +explained by the French _ville_; the _Cotswold_ Hills, where the Celtic +word _cot_, wood, is explained by the Saxon _wold_ or _weald_, a wood. In +_Dun-bar-ton_, the Celtic word _dun_, hill, is explained by the Saxon +_bar_ for _byrig_, burg, _ton_ being added to form the name of the town +that rose up under the protection of the hill-castle. In _Penhow_ the same +process has been suspected; _how_, the German Höhe,(77) expressing nearly +the same idea as _pen_, head. In Constantine, in Cornwall, one of the +large stones with rock-basins is called the _Mên-rock_,(78) rock being +simply the interpretation of the Cornish _mên_. + +If, then, we suppose that in exactly the same manner the people of +Cornwall spoke of _Tshey-houses_, or _Dshyi-houses_, is it so very +extraordinary that this hybrid word should at last have been interpreted +as _Jew-houses_ or _Jews’ houses_? I do not say that the history of the +word can be traced through all its phases with the same certainty as that +of Marazion; all I maintain is that, in explaining its history, no step +has been admitted that cannot be proved by sufficient evidence to be in +strict keeping with the well-known movements, or, if it is respectful to +say so, the well-known antics of language. + +Thus vanish the Jews from Cornwall; but there still remain the _Saracens_. +One is surprised to meet with Saracens in the West of England; still more, +to hear of their having worked in the tin-mines, like the Jews. According +to some writers, however, Saracen is only another name for Jews, though no +explanation is given why this detested name should have been applied to +the Jews in Cornwall, and nowhere else. This view is held, for instance, +by Carew, who writes: “The Cornish maintain these works to have been very +ancient, and the first wrought by the Jews with pickaxes of holm, box, +hartshorn; they prove this by the names of those places yet enduring, to +wit, _Attall-Sarazin_ (or, as in some editions, _Sazarin_); in English, +the Jews’ Offcast.” + +Camden (p. 69) says: “We are taught from Diodorus and Æthicus that the +ancient Britons had worked hard at the mines, but the Saxons and Normans +seem to have neglected them for a long time, or to have employed the labor +of Arabs or Saracens, for the inhabitants call deserted shafts, +_Attall-Sarazin_, _i.e._ the leavings of the Saracens.” + +Thus, then, we have not only the Saracens in Cornwall admitted as simply a +matter of history, but their presence actually used in order to prove that +the Saxons and Normans neglected to work the mines in the West of England. + +A still more circumstantial account is given by Hals, as quoted by Gilbert +in his “Parochial History of Cornwall.” Here we are told that King Henry +III., by proclamation, let out all Jews in his dominions at a certain rent +to such as would poll and rifle them, and amongst others to his brother +Richard, King of the Romans, who, after he had plundered their estates, +committed their bodies, as his slaves, to labor in the tin-mines of +Cornwall; the memory of whose workings is still preserved in the names of +several tin works, called _Towle Sarasin_, and corruptly _Attall Saracen_; +_i.e._ the refuse or outcast of Saracens; that is to say, of those Jews +descended from Sarah and Abraham. Other works were called _Whele Etherson_ +(alias _Ethewon_), the Jews’ Works, or Unbelievers’ Works, in Cornish. + +Here we see how history is made; and if our inquiries led to no other +result, they would still be useful as a warning against putting implicit +faith in the statements of writers who are separated by several centuries +from the events they are relating. Here we have men like Carew and Camden, +both highly cultivated, learned, and conscientious, and yet neither of +them hesitating, in a work of historical character, to assert as a fact, +what, after making every allowance, can only be called a very bold guess. +Have we any reason to suppose that Herodotus and Thucydides, when speaking +of the original abodes of the various races of Greece, of their +migrations, their wars and final settlements, had better evidence before +them, or were more cautious in using their evidence, than Camden and +Carew? And is it likely that modern scholars, however learned and however +careful, can ever arrive at really satisfactory results by sifting and +arranging and rearranging the ethnological statements of the ancients, as +to the original abodes or the later migrations of Pelasgians, Tyrrhenians, +Thracians, Macedonians, and Illyrians, or even of Dorians, Æolians, and +Ionians? What is Carew’s evidence in support of his statement that the +Jews first worked the tin-mines of Cornwall? Simply the sayings of the +people in Cornwall, who support their sayings by the name given to +deserted mines, _Attall Sarazin_. Now admitting that _Attall Sarazin_ or +_Attall Sazarin_, meant the refuse of the Saracens, how is it possible, in +cold blood, to identify the Saracens with Jews, and where is there a +tittle of evidence to prove that the Jews were the first to work these +mines,—mines, be it remembered, which, according to the same Carew, were +certainly worked before the beginning of our era? + +But leaving the Jews of the time of Nero, let us examine the more definite +and more moderate statements of Hals and Gilbert. According to them, the +deserted shafts are called by a Cornish name meaning the refuse of the +Saracens, because, as late as the thirteenth century, the Jews were sent +to work in these mines. It is difficult, no doubt, to prove a negative, +and to show that no Jews ever worked in the mines of Cornwall. All that +can be done, in a case like this, is to show that no one has produced an +atom of evidence in support of Mr. Gilbert’s opinion. The Jews were +certainly ill treated, plundered, tortured, and exiled during the reign of +the Plantagenet kings; but that they were sent to the Cornish mines, no +contemporary writer has ever ventured to assert. The passage in Matthew +Paris, to which Mr. Gilbert most likely alludes, says the very contrary of +what he draws from it. Matthew Paris says that Henry III. extorted money +from the Jews, and that when they petitioned for a safe conduct, in order +to leave England altogether, he sold them to his brother Richard, “ut quos +Rex excoriaverat, Comes evisceraret.”(79) But this selling of the Jews +meant no more than that, in return for money advanced him by his brother, +the Earl of Cornwall, the King pawned to him, for a number of years, the +taxes, legitimate or illegitimate, which could be extorted from the Jews. +That this was the real meaning of the bargain between the King and his +brother, the Earl of Cornwall, can be proved by the document printed in +Rymer’s “Fœdera,” vol. i. p. 543, “De Judæis Comiti Cornubiæ assignatis, +pro solutione pecuniæ sibi a Rege debitæ.”(80) Anyhow, there is not a +single word about the Jews having been sent to Cornwall, or having had to +work in the mines. On the contrary, Matthew Paris says, “_Comes pepercit +iis_,” “the Earl spared them.” + +After thus looking in vain for any truly historical evidence in support of +Jewish settlements in Cornwall, I suppose they may in future be safely +treated as a “verbal myth,” of which there are more indeed in different +chapters of history, both ancient and modern, than is commonly supposed. +As in Cornwall the name of a market has given rise to the fable of Jewish +settlements, the name of another market in Finland led to the belief that +there were Turks settled in that northern country. _Abo_, the ancient +capital of Finland, was called _Turku_, which is the Swedish word _torg_, +market. Adam of Bremen, enumerating the various tribes adjoining the +Baltic, mentions _Turci_ among the rest, and these _Turci_ were by others +mistaken for Turks.(81) + +Even after such myths have been laid open to the very roots, there is a +strong tendency not to drop them altogether. Thus Mr. H. Merivale is far +too good an historian to admit the presence of Jews in Cornwall as far +back as the destruction of Jerusalem.(82) He knows there is no evidence +for it, and he would not repeat a mere fable, however plausible. Yet +Marazion and the Jews’ houses evidently linger in his memory, and he +throws out a hint that they may find an historical explanation in the fact +that under the Plantagenet kings the Jews commonly farmed or wrought the +mines. Is there any contemporary evidence even for this? I do not think +so. Dr. Borlase, indeed, in his “Natural History of Cornwall” (p. 190), +says, “In the time of King John, I find the product of tin in this county +very inconsiderable, the right of working for tin being as yet wholly in +the King, the property of tinners precarious and unsettled, and what tin +was raised was engrossed and managed by the Jews, to the great regret of +the barons and their vassals.” It is a pity that Dr. Borlase should not +have given his authority, but there is little doubt that he simply quoted +from Carew. Carew tells us how the Cornish gentlemen borrowed money from +the merchants of London, giving them tin as security (p. 14); and though +he does not call the merchants Jews, yet he speaks of them as usurers, and +reproves their “cut throate and abominable dealing.” He continues +afterwards, speaking of the same usurers (p. 16), “After such time as the +Jewes by their extreme dealing had worne themselves, first out of the love +of the English inhabitants, and afterwards out of the land itselfe, and so +left the mines unwrought, it hapned, that certaine gentlemen, being lords +of seven tithings in Blackmoore, whose grounds were best stored with this +minerall, grewe desirous to renew this benefit,” etc. To judge from +several indications, this is really the passage which Dr. Borlase had +before him when writing of the Jews as engrossing and managing the tin +that was raised, and in that case neither is Carew a contemporary witness, +nor would it follow from what he says that one single Jew ever set foot on +Cornish soil, or that any Jews ever tasted the actual bitterness of +working in the mines. + +Having thus disposed of the Jews, we now turn to the Saracens in Cornwall. +We shall not enter upon the curious and complicated history of that name. +It is enough to refer to a short note in Gibbon,(83) in order to show that +Saracen was a name known to Greeks and Romans, long before the rise of +Islam, but never applied to the Jews by any writer of authority, not even +by those who saw in the Saracens “the children of Sarah.” + +What, then, it may be asked, is the origin of the expression _Attal +Sarazin_ in Cornwall? _Attal_, or _Atal_, is said to be a Cornish word, +the Welsh _Adhail_, and means refuse, waste.(84) As to _Sarazin_, it is +most likely another Cornish word, which by a metamorphic process, has been +slightly changed in order to yield some sense intelligible to Saxon +speakers. We find in Cornish _tarad_, meaning a piercer, a borer; and, in +another form, _tardar_ is distinctly used, together with axe and hammer, +as the name of a mining implement. The Latin _taratrum_, Gr. τέρετρον, Fr. +_tarière_, all come from the same source. If from _tarad_ we form a +plural, we get _taradion_. In modern Cornish we find that _d_ sinks down +to _s_, which would give us _taras_,(85) and plural _tarasion_. Next, the +final _l_ of _atal_ may, like several final _l_’s in the closely allied +language of Brittany, have infected the initial _t_ of _tarasion_, and +changed it to _th_, which _th_, again, would, in modern Cornish, sink down +to _s_.(86) Thus _atal tharasion_ might have been intended for the refuse +of the borings, possibly the refuse of the mines; but pronounced in Saxon +fashion, it might readily have been mistaken for the Atal or refuse of the +Sarasion or Saracens. + +POSTSCRIPT. + +The essay on the presence of Jews in Cornwall has given rise to much +controversy; and as I republish it here without any important alterations, +I feel it incumbent to say a few words in answer to the objections that +have been brought forward against it. No one, I think, can read my essay +without perceiving that what I question is not the presence of single Jews +in Cornwall, but the migration of large numbers of Jews into the extreme +West of Britain, whether at the time of the Phœnicians, or at the period +of the destruction of Jerusalem, or under the Flavian princes, or even at +a later time. The Rev. Dr. Bannister in a paper on “the Jews in Cornwall,” +published in the Journal of the Royal Institution of Cornwall, 1867, does +indeed represent me as having maintained “that one single Jew never set +foot on Cornish soil!” But if my readers will refer to the passage thus +quoted from my essay by Dr. Bannister, they will see that it was not meant +in that sense. In the passage thus quoted with inverted commas,(87) I +simply argued that from certain words used by Carew, on which great stress +had been laid, it would not even follow “that one single Jew ever set foot +on Cornish soil,” which surely is very different from saying that I +maintained that no single Jew ever set foot on Cornish soil. It would +indeed be the most extraordinary fact if Cornwall had never been visited +by Jews. If it were so, Cornwall would stand alone, as far as such an +immunity is concerned, among all the countries of Europe. But it is one +thing for Jews to be scattered about in towns,(88) or even for one or two +Jews to have actually worked in tin mines, and quite another to speak of +towns receiving Hebrew names in Cornwall, and of deserted tin-mines being +called the workings of the Jews. To explain such startling facts, if facts +they be, a kind of Jewish exodus to Cornwall had to be admitted, and was +admitted as long as such names as _Marazion_ and _Attal Sarazin_ were +accepted in their traditional meaning. My own opinion was that these names +had given rise to the assumed presence of Jews in Cornwall, and not that +the presence of Jews in Cornwall had given rise to these names. + +If, therefore, it could be proved that some Jewish families had been +settled in Cornwall in very early times, or that a few Jewish slaves had +been employed as miners, my theory would not at all be affected. But I +must say that the attempts at proving even so much have been far from +successful. Surely the occurrence of Old Testament names among the people +of Cornwall, such as Abraham, Joseph, or Solomon (there is a Solomon, Duke +of Cornwall), does not prove that their bearers were Jews. Again, if we +read in the time of Edward II. that “John Peverel held Hametethy of Roger +le Jeu,” we may be quite certain that _le Jeu_ does not mean “the Jew,” +and that in the time of Edward II. no John Peverel held land of a Jew. +Again, if in the time of Edward III. we read of one “Abraham, the tinner, +who employed 300 men in the stream-works of Brodhok,” it would require +stronger proof than the mere name to make us believe that this Abraham was +a Jew. + +I had endeavored to show that there was no evidence as to the Earl of +Cornwall, the brother of Henry III., having employed Jews in the Cornish +mines, and had pointed out a passage from Rymer’s “Fœdera” where it is +stated that the Earl spared them (_pepercit_). Dr. Bannister remarks: +“Though we are told that he spared them, might not this be similar to +Joseph’s brethren sparing him,—by committing their bodies as his slaves to +work in the tin-mines?” It might be so, no doubt, but we do not know it. +Again, Dr. Bannister remarks: “Jerome tells us that when Titus took +Jerusalem, an incredible number of Jews were sold like horses, and +dispersed over the face of the whole earth. The account given by Josephus +is, that of those spared after indiscriminate slaughter, some were +dispersed through the provinces for the use of the theatres, as +gladiators; others were sent to the Egyptian mines, and others sold as +slaves. If the Romans at this time worked the Cornish mines, why may not +some have been sent here?” I can only answer, as before; they may have +been, no doubt, but we do not know it. + +I had myself searched very carefully for any documents that might prove +the presence even of single Jews in Cornwall, previous to the time when +they were banished the realm by Edward I. But my inquiries had not proved +more successful than those of my predecessors. Pearce, in his “Laws and +Customs of the Stanaries,” published in London, 1725, shares the common +belief that the Jews worked in the Cornish mines. “The tinners,” he says +(p. ii), “call the antient works by the name of the Working of the Jews, +and it is most manifest, that there were Jews inhabiting here until 1291; +and this they prove by the names yet enduring, viz. Attall Sarazin, in +English, The Jews Feast.” But in spite of his strong belief in the +presence of Jews in Cornwall, Pearce adds: “But whether they had liberty +to work and search for tin, does not appear, because they had their +dwellings chiefly in great Towns and Cities; and being great Usurers, were +in that year banished out of England, to the number of 15,060, by the most +noble Prince, Edward I.” + +At last, however, with the kind assistance of Mr. Macray, I discovered a +few real Jews in Cornwall in the third year of King John, 1202, namely, +one _Simon de Dena_, one _Deudone, the son of Samuel_, and one _Aaron_. +Some of their monetary transactions are recorded in the “Rotulus +Cancellarii vel Antigraphum Magni Rotuli Pipæ de tertio anno Regni Regis +Johannis” (printed under the direction of the Commissioners of the Public +Records in 1863, p. 96), and we have here not only their names as evidence +of their Jewish origin, but they are actually spoken of as “_prædictus +Judens_.” Their transactions, however, are purely financial, and do not +lead us to suppose that the Jews, in order to make tin, condescended, in +the time of King John or at any other time, to the drudgery of working in +tin-mines. + +_July_, 1867. + + + + + +XV. THE INSULATION OF ST. MICHAEL’S MOUNT.(89) + + +St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall is so well known to most people, either +from sight or from report, that a description of its peculiar features may +be deemed almost superfluous; but in order to start fair, I shall quote a +short account from the pen of an eminent geologist, Mr. Pengelly, to whom +I shall have to refer frequently in the course of this paper. + +“St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall, he says, “is an island at very high +water, and, with rare exceptions, a peninsula at very low water. The +distance from Marazion Cliff, the nearest point of the mainland, to +spring-tide high-water mark on its own strand, is about 1680 feet. The +total isthmus consists of the outcrop of highly inclined Devonian slate +and associated rocks, and in most cases is covered with a thin layer of +gravel or sand. At spring-tides, in still weather, it is at high-water +about twelve feet below, and at low-water six feet above, the sea level. +In fine weather it is dry from four to five hours every tide; but +occasionally, during very stormy weather and neap tides, it is impossible +to cross from the mainland for two or three days together.” + +“The Mount is an outlier of granite, measuring at its base about five +furlongs in circumference, and rising to the height of one hundred and +ninety-five feet above mean tide. At high-water it plunges abruptly into +the sea, except on the north or landward side, where the granite comes +into contact with slate. Here there is a small plain occupied by a +village.... The country immediately behind or north of the town of +Marazion consists of Devonian strata, traversed by traps and elvans, and +attains a considerable elevation.” + +At the meeting of the British Association in 1865, Mr. Pengelly, in a +paper on “The Insulation of St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall,” maintained +that the change which converted that Mount from a promontory into an +island must have taken place, not only within the human period, but since +Cornwall was occupied by a people speaking the Cornish language. As a +proof of this somewhat startling assertion, he adduced the ancient British +name of St. Michael’s Mount, signifying _the Hoar rock in the wood_. +Nobody would think of applying such a name to the Mount in its present +state; and as we know that during the last two thousand years the Mount +has been, as it is now, an island at high, and a promontory at low tide, +it would indeed seem to follow that its name must have been framed before +the destruction of the ancient forest by which it was once surrounded, and +before the separation of the Mount from the mainland. + +Sir Henry James, in a “Note on the Block of Tin dredged in Falmouth +Harbor,” asserts, it is true, that there are trees growing on the Mount in +sufficient numbers to have justified the ancient descriptive name of “the +Hoar rock in the wood;” but though there are traces of trees visible on +the engravings published a hundred years ago, in Dr. Borlase’s +“Antiquities of Cornwall,” these are most likely due to artistic +embellishment only. At present no writer will discover in St. Michael’s +Mount what could fairly be called either trees or a wood, even in +Cornwall. + +That the geographical change from a promontory into a real island did not +take place during the last two thousand years, is proved by the +description which Diodorus Siculus, a little before the Christian era, +gives of St. Michael’s Mount. “The inhabitants of the promontory of +Belerium,” he says (lib. v. c. 22), “were hospitable, and, on account of +their intercourse with strangers, eminently civilized in their habits. +These are the people who work the tin, which they melt into the form of +astragali, and then carry it to an island in front of Britain, called +_Ictis_. This island is left dry at low tide, and they then transport the +tin in carts from the shore. Here the traders buy it from the natives, and +carry it to Gaul, over which it travels on horseback in about thirty days +to the mouths of the Rhone.” That the Island of Ictis, described by +Diodorus, is St. Michael’s Mount, seems, to say the least, very probable, +and was at last admitted even by the late Sir G. C. Lewis. In fact, the +description which Diodorus gives answers so completely to what St. +Michael’s Mount is at the present day, that few would deny that if the +Mount ever was a “Hoar rock in the wood,” it must have been so before the +time of which Diodorus speaks, that is, at least before the last two +thousand years. The nine apparent reasons why St. Michael’s Mount cannot +be the Ictis of Diodorus, and their refutation, may be seen in Mr. +Pengelly’s paper “On the Insulation of St. Michael’s Mount,” p. 6, seq. + +Mr. Pengelly proceeded to show that the geological change which converted +the promontory into an island may be due to two causes. First, it may have +taken place in consequence of the encroachment of the sea. This would +demand a belief that at least 20,000 years ago Cornwall was inhabited by +men who spoke Cornish. Secondly, this change may have taken place by a +general subsidence of the land, and this is the opinion adopted by Mr. +Pengelly. No exact date was assigned to this subsidence, but Mr. Pengelly +finished by expressing his decided opinion that, subsequent to a period +when Cornwall was inhabited by a race speaking a Celtic language, St. +Michael’s Mount was “a hoar rock in the wood,” and has since become +insulated by powerful geological changes. + +In a more recent paper read at the Royal Institution (April 5, 1867), Mr. +Pengelly has somewhat modified his opinion. Taking for granted that at +some time or other St. Michael’s Mount was a peninsula and not yet an +island, he calculates that it must have taken 16,800 years before the +coast line could have receded from the Mount to the present cliffs. He +arrived at this result by taking the retrocession of the cliffs at ten +feet in a century, the distance between the Mount and the mainland being +at present 1,680 feet. + +If, however, the severance of the Mount from the mainland was the result, +not of retrocession, but of the subsidence of the country,—a rival theory +which Mr. Pengelly still admits as possible,—the former calculation would +fail, and the only means of fixing the date of this severance would be +supplied by the remains found in the forests that were carried down by +that subsidence, and which are supposed to belong to the mammoth era. This +mammoth era, we are told, is anterior to the lake-dwellings of +Switzerland, and the kitchenmiddens of Denmark, for in neither of these +have any remains of the mammoth been discovered. The mammoth, in fact, did +not outlive the age of bronze, and before the end of that age, therefore, +St. Michael’s Mount must be supposed to have become an island. + +In all these discussions it is taken for granted that St. Michael’s Mount +was at one time unquestionably a “hoar rock in the wood,” and that the +land between the Mount and the mainland was once covered by a forest which +extended along the whole of the seaboard. That there are submerged forests +along that seaboard is attested by sufficient geological evidence; but I +have not been able to discover any proof of the unbroken continuity of +that shore-forest, still less of the presence of vegetable remains in the +exact locality which is of interest to us, namely between the Mount and +the mainland. It is true that Dr. Borlase discovered the remains of trunks +of trees on the 10th of January, 1757; but he tells us that these forest +trees were not found round the Mount, but midway betwixt the piers of St. +Michael’s Mount and Penzance, that is to say, about one mile distant from +the Mount; also, that one of them was a willow-tree with the bark on it, +another a hazel-branch with the bark still fat and glossy. The place where +these trees were found was three hundred yards below full-sea mark, where +the water is twelve feet deep when the tide is in. + +Carew, also, at an earlier date, speaks of roots of mighty trees found in +the sand about the Mount, but without giving the exact place. Lelant +(1533-40) knows of “Spere Heddes, Axis for Warre, and Swerdes of Copper +wrapped up in lynist, scant perishid,” that had been found of late years +near the Mount, in St. Hilary’s parish, in tin works; but he places the +land that had been devoured of the sea between Penzance and Mousehole, +_i.e._ more than two miles distant from the Mount. + +The value of this kind of geological evidence must of course be determined +by geologists. It is quite possible that the remains of trunks of trees +may still be found on the very isthmus between the Mount and the mainland; +but it is, to say the least, curious that, even in the absence of such +stringent evidence, geologists should feel so confident that the Mount +once stood on the mainland, and that exactly the same persuasion should +have been shared by people long before the name of geology was known. +There is a powerful spell in popular traditions, against which even men of +science are not always proof, and is just possible that if the tradition +of the “hoar rock in the wood” had not existed, no attempts would have +been made to explain the causes that severed St. Michael’s Mount from the +mainland. But even then the question remains, How was it that people quite +guiltless of geology should have framed the popular name of the Mount, and +the popular tradition of its former connection with the mainland? Leaving, +therefore, for the present all geological evidence out of view, it will be +an interesting inquiry to find out, if possible, how people that could not +have been swayed by any geological theories, should have been led to +believe in the gradual insulation of St. Michael’s Mount. + +The principal argument brought forward by non-geological writers in +support of the former existence of a forest surrounding the Mount, is the +Cornish name of St. Michael’s Mount, _Cara clowse in cowse_, which in +Cornish is said to mean “the hoar rock in the wood.” In his paper read +before the British Association at Manchester, Mr. Pengelly adduced that +very name as irrefragable evidence that Cornish, _i.e._ a Celtic language, +an Aryan language, was spoken in the extreme west of Europe about 20,000 +years ago. In his more recent paper Mr. Pengelly has given up this +position, and he considers it improbable that any philologer could now +give a trustworthy translation of a language spoken 20,000 years ago. This +may be or not; but before we build any hypothesis on that Cornish name, +the first question which an historian has to answer is clearly this:— + +_What authority is there for that name? Where does it occur for the first +time? and does it really mean what it is supposed to mean?_ + +Now the first mention of the Cornish name, as far as I am aware, occurs in +Richard Carew’s “Survey of Cornwall,” which was published in 1602. It is +true that Camden’s “Britannia” appeared earlier, in 1586, and that Camden +(p. 72), too, mentions “the Mons Michaelis, _Dinsol_ olim, ut in libro +Landavensi habetur, incolis _Careg Cowse_,(90) _i.e._ rupis cana.” But it +will be seen that he leaves out the most important part of the old name, +nor can there be much doubt that Camden received his information about +Cornwall direct from Carew, before Carew’s “Survey of Cornwall” was +published. + +After speaking of “the countrie of Lionesse which the sea hath ravined +from Cornwall betweene the lands end and the Isles of Scilley,” Carew +continues (p. 3), “Moreover, the ancient name of Saint Michael’s Mount was +_Cara-clowse in Cowse_, in English, The hoare Rocke in the Wood; which now +is at everie floud incompassed by the Sea, and yet at some low ebbes, +rootes of mightie trees are discryed in the sands about it. The like +overflowing hath happened in Plymmouth Haven, and divers other places.” +Now while in this place Carew gives the name _Cara-clowse in Cowse_, it is +very important to remark that on page 154, he speaks of it again as “_Cara +Cowz in Clowze_, that is, the hoare rock in the wood.” + +The original Cornish name, whether it was _Cara clowse in Cowse_, or _Cara +Cowz in Clowze_, cannot be traced back beyond the end of the sixteenth +century, for the Cornish Pilchard song in which the name likewise occurs +is much more recent, at least in that form in which we possess it. The +tradition, however, that St. Michael’s Mount stood in a forest, and even +the Saxon designation, “the Hoar rock in the wood,” can be followed up to +an earlier date. + +At least one hundred and twenty-five years before Carew’s time, William of +Worcester, though not mentioning the Cornish name, not only gives the +Mount the name of “hoar rock of the wood,” but states distinctly that St. +Michael’s Mount was formerly six miles distant from the sea, and +surrounded by a dense forest: “PREDICTUS LOCUS OPACISSIMA PRIMO +CLAUDEBATUR SYLVA, AB OCEANO MILIARIBUS DISTANS SEX.” As William of +Worcester never mentions the Cornish name, it is not likely that his +statement should merely be derived from the supposed meaning of _Cara Cowz +in Clowze_, and it is but fair to admit that he may have drawn from a +safer source of information. We must therefore inquire more closely into +the credibility of this important witness. He is an important witness, +for, if it were not for him, I believe we should never have heard of the +insulation of St. Michael’s Mount at all. The passage in question occurs +in William of Worcester’s Itinerary, the original MS. of which is +preserved in Corpus Christi College at Cambridge. It was printed at +Cambridge by James Nasmith, in the year 1778, from the original MS., but, +as it would seem, without much care. William Botoner, or, as he is +commonly called, William of Worcester, was born at Bristol in 1415, and +educated at Oxford about 1434. He was a member of the _Aula Cervina_, +which at that time belonged to Balliol College. His “Itinerarium” is dated +1478. It hardly deserves the grand title which it bears, “Itinerarium, +sive liber memorabilium Will. W. in viagio de Bristol usque ad montem St. +Michaelis.” It is not a book of travels in our sense of the word, and it +was hardly destined for the public in the form in which we possess it. It +is simply a notebook in which William entered anything that interested him +during his journey; and it contains not only his own observations, but all +sorts of extracts, copies, notices, thrown together without any connecting +thread. He hardly tells us that he has arrived at St. Michael’s Mount +before he begins to copy a notice which he found posted up in the church. +This notice informed all comers that Pope Gregory had remitted a third of +their penances to all who should visit this church and give to it +benefactions and alms. It can be fully proved that this notice, which was +intended to attract pilgrims and visitors, repeats _ipsissimis verbis_ the +charter of Leofric, Bishop of Exeter, who exempted the church and convent +from all episcopal jurisdiction. This was in the year 1088, when St. +Michael’s Mount was handed over by Robert, Earl of Mortain, half-brother +of William the Conqueror, to the Abbey of St. Michel in Normandy. This +charter may be seen in Dr. Oliver’s “Monasticon Diocesis Exoniensis,” +1846. The passage copied by William of Worcester from a notice in the +church of St. Michael’s Mount occurs at the end of the original charter: +“_Et omnibus illis qui illam ecclesiam suis cum beneficiis elemosinis +expetierint et visitaverint, tertiam partem penitentiarum condonamus._” + +Though it is not quite correct to say that this condonation was granted by +Pope Gregory, yet it is perfectly true that it was granted by the Bishop +of Exeter at the command and exhortation of the Pope, “_Jussione et +exhortatione domini reverentissimi Gregorii_.” The date also given by +William, 1070, cannot be correct, for Gregory occupied the papal throne +from 1073-86. It was Gregory VII., not Gregory VI., as printed by Dr. +Oliver. + +Immediately after this memorandum in William’s diary we meet with certain +notes on the apparitions of St. Michael. He does not say from what source +he takes his information on the subject, but we may suppose that he either +repeated what he heard from the monks in conversation, or that he copied +from some MS. in their library. In either case it is startling to read +that there was an apparition of the Archangel St. Michael in Mount +_Tumba_, formerly called _the Horerock in the wodd_. St. Michael seems +indeed to have paid frequent visits to his worshippers, if we may trust +the “Chronicon apparitionum et gestorum S. Michaelis Archangeli,” +published by Mich. Naveus, in 1632. Yet his visits were not made at +random, and even Naveus finds it difficult to substantiate any apparition +of St. Michael so far north as Cornwall, except by invectives against the +_impudenta et ignorantia_ of Protestant heretics who dared to doubt such +occurrences. + +But this short sentence of William contains one word which is of great +importance for our purposes. He says that “the Hore-rock in the wodd” was +formerly called _Tumba_. Is there any evidence of this? + +The name _Tumba_, as far as we know, belonged originally to Mont St. +Michel in Normandy. There a famous and far better authenticated apparition +of St. Michael is related to have taken place in the year 708, which led +to the building of a church and monastery by Autbert, Bishop of Avranches. +The church was built in close imitation of the Church of St. Michael in +Mount Garganus in Apulia, which had been founded as early as 493.(91) If, +therefore, William of Worcester relates an apparition of St. Michael in +Cornwall at about the same date, in 710, it is clear that Mont St. Michel +in Normandy has here been confounded by him with St. Michael’s Mount in +Cornwall. In order to explain this strange confusion, and the consequences +which it entailed, it will be necessary to bear in mind the peculiar +relations which existed between the two ecclesiastical establishments, +perched the one on the island rock of St. Michel in Normandy, the other on +St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall. In physical structure there is a curious +resemblance between the two mounts. Both are granite islands, and both so +near the coast that at low water a dry passage is open to them from the +mainland. The Mount on the Norman coast is larger and more distant from +the coast than St. Michael’s Mount, yet for all that their general +likeness is very striking. Now Mont St. Michel was called _Tumba_ at least +as far back as the tenth century. Mabillon, in his “Annales Benedictini” +(vol. ii. p. 18), quotes from an ancient author the following explanation +of the name. “Now this place, to use the words of an ancient author, is +called _Tumba_ by the inhabitants, because, emerging as it were from the +sands like a hill, it rises up by the space of two hundred cubits, +everywhere surrounded by the ocean; it is six miles distant from the +shore, between the mouths of the rivers Segia and Senuna, six miles +distant from Avranches, looking westward, and dividing Avranches from +Brittany. Here the sea by its recess allows twice a passage to the pious +people who proceed to the threshold of St. Michael the Archangel.” “Hic +igitur locus, ut verbis antiqui autoris utar, _Tumba_ vocitatur ab +incolis, ideo quod in morem tumuli, quasi ab arenis emergens, ad altum +SPATIO DUCENTORUM CUBITORUM porrigitur, OCEANO UNDIQUE CINCTUS, SEX +MILLIBUS AB ÆSTU OCEANI, inter ostia situs, ubi immergunt se mari flumina +Segia (Sée) et Senuna (Selure), ab Abrincatensi urbe (Avranches) sex +distans millibus; oceanum prospectans, Abrincatensem pagum dirimit a +Britannia. Illic mare suo recessu devotis populis desideratum bis præbet +iter petentibus limina beati Michaelis archangeli.” + +This fixes _Tumba_ as the name of Mont St. Michel before the tenth +century, for the ancient author from whom Mabillon quotes wrote before the +middle of the tenth century, and before Duke Richard had replaced the +priests of St. Michel by Benedictine monks. _Tumba_ remained, in fact, the +recognized name of the Norman Mount, and has survived to the present day. +The church and monastery there were called “_in monte Tumba_,” or “_ad +duas Tumbas_,” there being in reality two islands, the principal one +called _Tumba_, the smaller _Tumbella_ or _Tumbellana_. This name of +_Tumbellana_ was afterwards changed into _tumba Helenæ_, giving rise to +various legends about Elaine, one of the heroines of the Arthurian cycle; +nay, the name was cited by learned antiquarians as a proof of the ancient +worship of Belus in these northern latitudes. + +The history of Mont St. Michel in Normandy is well authenticated, +particularly during the period which is of importance to us. Mabillon, +quoting from the chronicler who wrote before the middle of the tenth +century, relates how Autbert, the Bishop of Avranches, had a vision, and +after having been thrice admonished by St. Michael, proceeded to build on +the summit of the Mount a church under the patronage of the Archangel. +This was in 708, or possibly a few years earlier, if Pagius is right in +fixing the dedication of the temple in 707.(92) Mabillon points out that +this chronicler says nothing as yet of the miracles related by later +writers, particularly of the famous hole in the Bishop’s skull, which it +was believed St. Michael had made when on exhorting him the third time to +build his church, he gently touched him with his archangelic finger. In +doing this the finger went through the skull, and left a hole. The +perforated skull did not interfere with the Bishop’s health, and it was +shown after his death as a valuable relic. The new church was dedicated by +Autbert himself, and the day of the dedication (xvii. Kalend. Novemb.) was +celebrated, not only in France, but also in England, as is shown by a +decree of the Synod held at Oxford in 1222. The further history of the +church and monastery of St. Michel may be read with all its minute details +in Mabillon, or in the “Neustria Pia” (p. 371), or in the “Gallia +Christiana” (vol. ix. p. 517 E, 870 A). What is of interest to us is that +soon after the Conquest, when the ecclesiastical property of England had +fallen into the hands of her Norman conquerors, Robert, Earl of Mortain +and Cornwall, the half-brother of William the Conqueror, endowed the +Norman with the Cornish Mount. A priory of Benedictine monks had existed +on the Cornish Mount for some time, and had been richly endowed in 1044 by +Edward the Confessor. Nay, if we may trust the charter of Edward the +Confessor, it would seem that, even at that time, the Cornish Mount and +its priory had been granted by him to the Norman Abbey, for the charter is +witnessed by Norman bishops, and its original is preserved in the Abbey of +Mont St. Michel. In that case William the Conqueror or his half-brother +Robert would only have restored the Cornish priory to its rightful owners, +the monks of Mont St. Michel, who had well deserved the gratitude of the +Conqueror by supplying him after the Conquest with six ships and a number +of monks, destined to assist in the restoration of ecclesiastical +discipline in England. After that time the Cornish priory shared the fate +of other so-called alien priories or cells. The prior was bound to visit +in person or by proxy the mother-house every year, and to pay sixteen +marks of silver as an acknowledgment of dependence. Whenever a war broke +out between England and France, the foreign priories were seized, though +some, and among them the priory of St. Michael’s Mount obtained in time a +distinct corporate character, and during the reigns of Henry IV. and Henry +V. were exempted from seizure during war. + +Under these circumstances we can well understand how in the minds of the +monks, who spent their lives partly in the mother-house, partly in its +dependencies, there was no very clear perception of any difference between +the founders, benefactors, and patrons of these twin establishments. A +monk brought up at Mont St. Michel would repeat as an old man the legends +he had heard about St. Michel and Bishop Autbert, even though he was +ending his days in the priory of the Cornish Mount. Relics and books would +likewise travel from one place to the other, and a charter originally +belonging to the one might afterwards form part of the archives of another +house. + +After these preliminary remarks, let us look again at the memoranda which +William of Worcester made at St. Michael’s Mount, and it will appear that +what we anticipated has actually happened, and that a book originally +belonging to Mont St. Michel in Normandy, and containing the early history +of that monastery, was transferred (either in the original or in a copy) +to Cornwall, and there used by William of Worcester in the belief that it +contained the early history of the Cornish Mount and the Cornish priory. + +The Memorandum of William of Worcester runs thus: “Apparicio Sancti +Michaelis in monte Tumba, antea vocata le Hore-rok in the wodd; et fuerunt +tam boscus quarn prata et terra arabilis inter dictum montem et insulas +Syllye, et fuerunt 140 ecclesias parochiales inter istum montem et Sylly +submersse. + +“Prima apparicio Sancti Michaelis in monte Gorgon in regno Apuliae fuit +anno Christi 391. Secunda apparicio fuit circa annum domini 710 in Tumba +in Cornubia juxta mare. + +“Tertia apparicio Romæ fuit; tempore Gregorii papæ legitur accidisse: nam +tempore magnæ pestilenciæ, etc. + +“Quarta apparicio fuit in ierarchiis nostrorum angelorum. + +“Spacium loci mentis Sancti Michaelis est DUCENTORUM CUBITORUM UNDIQUE +OCEANO CINCTUM, et religiosi monachi dicti loci. Abrincensis antistes +Aubertus nomine, ut in honore Sancti Michaelis construeret ... predictus +LOCUS OPACISSIMA PRIMO CLAUDEBATUR SYLVA, AB OCEANO MILIARIBUS DISTANS +SEX, aptissimam prasbens latebram ferarum, in quo loco olim comperimus +MONACHOS domino servientes.” + +The text is somewhat corrupt and fragmentary, but may be translated as +follows:— + +“The apparition of St. Michael in the Mount Tumba, formerly called the +Hore-rock in the wodd; and there were a forest and meadows and arable land +between the said mount and the Syllye Isles, and there were 140 parochial +churches swallowed by the sea between that mount and Sylly. + +“The first apparition of St. Michael in Mount Gorgon in the Kingdom of +Apulia was in the year 391. The second apparition was about the year 710, +in Tumba in Cornwall by the sea. + +“The third apparition is said to have happened at Rome in the time of Pope +Gregory: for at the time of the great pestilence, etc. + +“The fourth apparition was in the hierarchies of our angels. + +“The space of St. Michael’s Mount is 200 cubits; it is everywhere +surrounded by the sea, and there are religious monks of that place. The +head of Abrinca, Aubertus by name, that he might erect a church(93) in +honor of St. Michael. The aforesaid place was at first enclosed by a very +dense forest, six miles distant from the ocean, furnishing a good retreat +for wild animals. In which place we heard that formerly monks serving the +Lord,” etc. + +The only way to explain this jumble is to suppose that William of +Worcester made these entries in his diary while walking up and down in the +Church of St. Michael’s Mount, and listening to one of the monks, reading +to him from a MS. which had been brought from Normandy, and referred in +reality to the early history of the Norman, but not of the Cornish Mount. +The first line, “Apparicio Sancti Michaelis in monte Tumba,” was probably +the title or the heading of the MS. Then William himself added, “antea +vocata le Hore-rok in the wodd,” a name which he evidently heard on the +spot, and which no doubt conveyed to him the impression that the rock had +formerly stood in the midst of a wood. For instead of continuing his +account of the apparitions of St. Michael, he quotes a tradition in +support of the former existence of a forest surrounding the Mount. Only, +strange to say, instead of producing the evidence which he produced +afterwards in confirmation of St. Michael’s Mount having been surrounded +by a dense forest, he here gives the tradition about Lionesse, the sunken +land between the Land’s End and the Scylly Isles. This is evidently a +mistake, for no other writer ever supposed the sunken land of Lionesse to +have reached as far as St. Michael’s Mount. + +Then follows the entry about the four apparitions of St. Michael. Here we +must read “_in monte Gargano_” instead of “_in monte Gorgon_.” Opinions +vary as to the exact date of the apparition in Mount Garganus in the South +of Italy, but 391 is certainly far too early, and has to be changed into +491 or 493. In the second apparition, all is right, if we leave out “in +Cornubia juxta mare,” which was added either by William or by the monk who +was showing him the book. It refers to the well-known apparition of St. +Michael at Avranches. The third and fourth apparitions are of no +consequence to us. + +As we read on, we come next to William’s own measurements, fixing the +extent of St. Michael’s Mount at two hundred cubits. After that we are met +by a passage which, though it hardly construes, can be understood in one +sense only, namely, as giving an account of the Abbey of St. Michel in +Normandy. I suppose it is not too bold if I recognize in _Aubertus +Autbertus_, and in _Abrincensis antistes_, the _Abrincatensis episcopus_ +or _antistes_, the Bishop of Avranches. + +Now it is well known that the Mont St. Michel in Normandy was believed to +have been originally surrounded by forests and meadows. Du Moustier in the +“Neustria Pia” relates (p. 371), “Hæc rupes antiquitus Mons erat cinctus +sylvis et saltibus,” “This rock was of old a mount surrounded by forests +and meadows.” But this is not all. In the old chronicle of Mont St. +Michel, quoted by Mabillon, which was written before the middle of the +tenth century, the same account is given; and if we compare that account +with the words used by William of Worcester, we can no longer doubt that +the old chronicle, or, it may be, a copy of it, had been brought from +France to England, and that what was intended for a description of the +Norman abbey and its neighborhood was taken, intentionally or +unintentionally, as a description of the Cornish Mount. These are the +words of the Norman chronicler, as quoted by Mabillon, compared with the +passage in William of Worcester:— + +_Mont St. Michel._ _St. Michael’s Mount._ +“Addit idem auctor hunc “Predictus LOCUS +locum OPACISSIMA OLIM OPACISSIMA OLIM +SILVA CLAUSUM fuisse, et CLAUDEBATUR Sylva ab +MONACHOS IBIDEM oceano miliaribus distans +INHABITASSE duasque ad sex, aptissimam præbens +suum usque tempus latebram ferarum, in quo +exstitisse ecclesias quas loco olim comperimus +illi scilicet monachi MONACHOS DOMINO +incolebant.” SERVIENTES”. + +“The same author adds that this place was formerly inclosed by a very +dense forest, and that monks dwelt there, and that two churches existed +there up to his own time, which those monks inhabited.” + +The words CLAUSUM OPACISSIMA SILVA are decisive. The phrase AB OCEANO +MILIARIBUS DISTANS SEX, too, is taken from an earlier passage of the same +author, quoted above, which passage may likewise have supplied the +identical phrases OCEANO UNDIQUE CINCTUS, and the SPATIUM DUCENTORUM +CUBITORUM, which are hardly applicable to St. Michael’s Mount. The “two +churches _still_ existing in Mont St. Michel,” had to be left out, for +there was no trace of them in St. Michael’s Mount. But the monks who lived +in them were retained, and to give a little more life, the wild beasts +were added. Even the expression of _antistes_ instead of _episcopus_ +occurs in the original, where we read, “Hæc loci facies erat ante sancti +Michaelis apparitionem hoc anno factam religiosissimo Autberto +Abrincatensi episcopo, admonentis se velle ut sibi in ejus montis vertice +ecclesia sub ipsius patrocinio erigeretur. Hærenti ANTISTITI tertio idem +intimatum,” etc. + +Thus vanishes the testimony of William of Worcester, so often quoted by +Cornish antiquarians, as to the dense forest by which St. Michael’s Mount +in Cornwall was once surrounded, and all the evidence that remains to +substantiate the former presence of trees on and around the Cornish Mount +is reduced to the name “the Hoar rock in the wood,” given by William, and +the Cornish names of _Cara clowse in Cowse_ or _Cara Cowz in Clowze_, +given by Carew. How much or how little dependence can be placed on old +Cornish names of places and their supposed meaning has been shown before +in the case of Marazion. Carew certainly did not understand Cornish, nor +did the people with whom he had intercourse; and there is no doubt that he +wrote down the Cornish names as best he could, and without any attempt at +deciphering their meaning. He was told that “Cara clowse in Cowse” meant +the “Hoar rock in the Wood,” and he had no reason to doubt it. Even a very +small knowledge of Cornish would have enabled Carew or anybody else at his +time to find out that _cowz_ might be meant for the Cornish word for wood, +and that _careg_ was rock. _Clowse_ too might easily be taken in the sense +of gray, as gray in Cornish was _glos_. Then why should we hesitate to +accept _Cara clowse in cowse_ as the ancient Cornish name of the Mount, +and why object to Mr. Pengelly’s argument that it must have been given at +a time when the Mount was surrounded by a very dense forest, and that _a +fortiori_ at that distant period Cornish must have been the spoken +language of Cornwall? + +The first objection is that the old word for “wood” in Cornish was _cuit_ +with a final _t_, and that the change of a final _t_ into _z_ is a +phonetic corruption which takes place only in the later stage of the +Cornish language. The ancient Cornish _cuit_, “wood,” occurs in Welsh as +_coed_, in Armorican as _koat_ and _koad_, and is supposed to exist in +Cornish names of places, such as _Penquite_, _Kilquite_, etc. _Cowz_, +therefore, could not have occurred in a Cornish name supposed to have been +formed at least 2,000 if not 20,000 years ago. + +This thrust might, no doubt, be parried by saying that the name of the +Mount would naturally change with the general changes of the Cornish +language. Yet this is not always the case with proper names, as may be +seen by the names just quoted, _Penquite_ and _Kilquite_. At all events, +we begin to see how uncertain is the ground on which we stand. + +If we take the facts, scanty and uncertain as they are, we may admit that, +at the time of William of Worcester, the Mount had most likely a Latin, a +Cornish, and a Saxon appellation. It is curious that William should say +nothing of a Cornish name, but only quote the Saxon one. However, this +Saxon name, “the Hoar rock in the Wood” sounds decidedly like a +translation, and is far too long and cumbrous for a current name. +_Michelstow_ is mentioned by others as the Saxon name of the Mount +(Naveus, p. 233). The Latin name given to the Mount, but only after it had +become a dependency of Mont St. Michel in Normandy, was, as we saw from +William of Worcester’s diary, _Mons Tumba_ or _Mons Tumba in Cornubia_, +and after his time the name of _St. Michael in Tumbâ_ or in _Monte Tumbâ_ +is certainly used promiscuously for the Cornish and Norman mounts.(94) Now +_tumba_, after meaning hillock, became the recognized name for tomb, and +the mediæval Latin _tumba_, too, was always understood in that sense. If, +therefore, the name “Mons in tumba” had to be rendered in Cornish for the +benefit of the Cornish-speaking monks of the Benedictine priory, _tumba_ +would actually be taken in the sense of tomb. One form of the Cornish +name, as preserved by Carew, is _Cara cowz in clowze_; and this, if +interpreted without any preconceived opinion, would mean in Cornish “the +old rock of the tomb.” _Cara_ stands for _carak_, a rock. _Cowz_ is meant +for _coz_, the modern Cornish and Armorican form corresponding to the +ancient Cornish _coth_, old.(95) _Clowze_ is a modern and somewhat corrupt +form in Cornish, corresponding to the Welsh _clawdh_, a tomb. _Cladh-va_, +in Cornish, means a burying-place; and _cluddu_, to bury, has been +preserved as a Cornish verb, corresponding to the Welsh _cladhu_. In +Gaelic, too, _cladh_ is a tomb or burying-place; and in Armorican, which +generally follows the same phonetic changes as the Cornish, we actually +find _kleuz_ and _klôz_ for tomb or inclosure. (See Le Gonidec, “Dict. +Breton-Français,” s. v.) The _en_ might either be the Cornish preposition +_yn_, or it may have been intended for the article in the genitive, _an_. +The old rock in the tomb, _i.e._ _in tumbâ_, or the old rock of the tomb, +Cornish _carag goz an cloz_, would be intelligible and natural renderings +of the Latin _Mons in tumba_. + +But though this would fully account for the origin of the Cornish name as +preserved by Carew, it would still leave the Saxon appellation the “Hore +rock in the wodd” unexplained. How could William of Worcester have got +hold of this name? Let us remember that William does not mention any +Cornish name of the Mount, and that nothing is ever said at his time of +the “Hore rock in the wodd” being a translation of an old Cornish name. +All we know is that the monks of the Mount used that name, and it is +hardly likely that so long and cumbrous a name should ever have been used +much by the people in the neighborhood. How the monks of St. Michael’s +Mount came to call their place the “Hore rock in the wodd” at the time of +William of Worcester, and probably long before his time, is, however, not +difficult to explain, after we have seen how they transferred the +traditions which originally referred to Mont St. Michel to their own +monastery. Having told the story of the “_sylva opacissima_” by which +their mount was formerly surrounded to many visitors, as they told it to +William of Worcester, the name of the “Hore rock in the wodd” might easily +spring up among them, and be kept up within the walls of their priory. Nor +is there any evidence that in this peculiar form the name ever spread +beyond their walls. But it is possible that here, too, language may have +played some tricks. The number of people who used these names and kept +them alive can never have been large, and hence they were exposed much +more to accidents arising from ignorance and individual caprice than names +of villages or towns which are in the keeping of hundreds and thousands of +people. The monks of St. Michael’s Mount may in time have forgotten the +exact purport of “Cara cowz in clowze,” “the old rock of the tomb,” really +the “Mons in tumba;” and their minds being full of the old forest by which +they believed _their_ island, like Mont St. Michel, to have been formerly +surrounded, what wonder if _cara cowz in clowze_ glided away into _cara +clowse in cowze_, and thus came to confirm the old tradition of the +forest. For _cowz_ would at once be taken as the modern Cornish word for +wood, corresponding to the old Cornish _cuit_, while _clowse_ might, with +a little effort, be identified with the Cornish _glos_, gray, the +Armorican _glâz_. Carew, it should be observed, sanctions both forms, the +original one, _cara cowz in clowze_, “the old rock of the tomb,” and the +other _cara clowse in cowze_, meaning possibly “the gray rock in the +wood.” The sound of the two is so like that, particularly to the people +not very familiar with the language, the substitution of one for the other +would come very naturally; and as a reason could more easily be given for +the latter than for the former name, we need not be surprised if in the +few passages where the name occurs _after Carew’s_ time, the secondary +name, apparently confirming the monkish legend of the dense forest that +once surrounded St. Michael’s Mount, should have been selected in +preference to the former, which, but to a scholar and an antiquarian, +sounded vague and meaningless. + +If my object had been to establish any new historical fact, or to support +any novel theory, I should not have indulged so freely in what to a +certain extent may be called mere conjecture. But my object was only to +point out the uncertainty of the evidence which Mr. Pengelly has adduced +in support of a theory which would completely revolutionize our received +views as to the early history of language and the migrations of the Aryan +race. At first sight the argument used by Mr. Pengelly seems unanswerable. +Here is St. Michael’s Mount, which, according to geological evidence, may +formerly have been part of the mainland. Here is an old Cornish name for +St. Michael’s Mount, which means “the gray rock in the wood.” Such a name, +it might well be argued, could not have been given to the island after it +had ceased to be a gray rock in the wood; therefore it must have been +given previous to the date which geological chronology fixes for the +insulation of St. Michael’s Mount. That date varies from 16,000 to 20,000 +years ago. And as the name is Cornish, it follows that Cornish-speaking +people must have lived in Cornwall at that early geological period. + +Nothing, as I said, could sound more plausible; but before we yield to the +argument, we must surely ask, Is there no other way of explaining the +names _Cara cowz in clowze_ and _Cara clowse in cowze_? And here we find— + +(1.) That the legend of the dense forest by which the Mount was believed +to have been surrounded existed, so far as we know, before the earliest +occurrence of the Cornish name, and that it owes its origin entirely to a +mistake which can be accounted for by documentary evidence. A legend told +of Mont St. Michel had been transferred _ipsissimis verbis_ to St. +Michael’s Mount, and the monks of that priory repeated the story which +they found in their chronicle to all who came to visit their establishment +in Cornwall. They told the name, among others, to William of Worcester, +and to prevent any incredulity on his part, they gave him chapter and +verse from their chronicle, which he carefully jotted down in his +diary.(96) + +(2.) We find that when the Cornish name first occurs, it lends itself, in +one form, to a very natural interpretation, which does not give the +meaning of “Hore rock in the wodd,” but shows the name _Cara cowz in +clowze_ to have been a literal rendering of the Latin name “Mons in +tumba,” originally the name of Mont St. Michel, but at an early date +applied in charters to St. Michael’s Mount. + +(3.) We find that the second form of the Cornish name, namely, _cara +clowse in cowze_, may either be a merely metamorphic corruption of _cara +cowz in clowze_, readily suggested and supported by the new meaning which +it yielded of “gray rock in the wood;” or, even if we accept it as an +original name, that it would be no more than a name framed by the +Cornish-speaking monks of the Mount, in order to embody the same spurious +tradition which had given rise to the name of “Hore rock in the wodd.” + +I need hardly add that in thus arguing against Mr. Pengelly’s conclusions, +I do not venture to touch his geological arguments. St. Michael’s Mount +may have been united with the mainland; it may, for all we know, have been +surrounded by a dense forest; and it may be perfectly possible +geologically to fix the date when that forest was destroyed, and the Mount +severed, so far as it is severed, from the Cornish coast. All I protest +against is that any one of these facts could be proved, or even supported, +by the Cornish name of the Mount, whether _cara cowz in clowze_, or _cara +clowse in cowze_, or by the English name, communicated by William of +Worcester, “the Hore rock in the wodd,” or finally by the legend which +gave rise to these names, and which, as can be proved by irrefragable +evidence, was transplanted by mistake from the Norman to the Cornish +coast. The only question which, in conclusion, I should like to address to +geologists, is this: As geologists are obliged to leave it doubtful +whether the insulation of St. Michael’s Mount was due to the washing of +the sea-shore, or to a general subsidence of the country, may it not have +been due to neither of these causes, and may not the Mount have always +been that kind of half-island which it certainly was two thousand years +ago? + +1867. + + + + + +XVI. BUNSEN.(97) + + +Ours is, no doubt, a forgetful age. Every day brings new events rushing in +upon us from all parts of the world; and the hours of real rest, when we +might ponder over the past, recall pleasant days, gaze again on the faces +of those who are no more, are few indeed. Men and women disappear from +this busy stage, and though for a time they had been the radiating centres +of social, political, or literary life, their places are soon taken by +others,—“the place thereof shall know them no more.” Few only appear again +after a time, claiming once more our attention through the memoirs of +their lives, and then either flitting away forever among the shades of the +departed, or assuming afresh a power of life, a place in history, and an +influence on the future often more powerful even than that which they +exercised on the world while living in it. To call the great and good thus +back from the grave is no easy task; it requires not only the power of a +_vates sacer_, but the heart of a loving friend. Few men live great and +good lives; still fewer can write them; nay, often, when they have been +lived and have been written, the world passes by unheeding, as crowds will +pass without a glance by the portraits of a Titian or a Van Dyke. Now and +then, however, a biography takes root, and then acts, as a lesson, as no +other lesson can act. Such biographies have all the importance of an _Ecce +Homo_, showing to the world what man can be, and permanently raising the +ideal of human life. It was so in England with the life of Dr. Arnold; it +was so more lately with the life of Prince Albert; it will be the same +with the life of Bunsen. + +It seems but yesterday that Bunsen left England; yet it was in 1854 that +his house in Carlton Terrace ceased to be the refreshing oasis in London +life which many still remember, and that the powerful, thoughtful, +beautiful, loving face of the Prussian Ambassador was seen for the last +time in London society. Bunsen then retired from public life, and after +spending six more years in literary work, struggling with death, yet +reveling in life, he died at Bonn on the 28th of November, 1860. His widow +has devoted the years of her solitude to the noble work of collecting the +materials for a biography of her husband; and we have now in two large +volumes all that could be collected, or, at least, all that could be +conveniently published, of the sayings and doings of Bunsen, the scholar, +the statesman, and, above all, the philosopher and the Christian. +Throughout the two volumes the outward events are sketched by the hand of +the Baroness Bunsen; but there runs, as between wooded hills, the main +stream of Bunsen’s mind, the outpourings of his heart, which were given so +freely and fully in his letters to his friends. When such materials exist, +there can be no more satisfactory kind of biography than that of +introducing the man himself, speaking unreservedly to his most intimate +friends on the great events of his life. This is an autobiography, in +fact, free from all drawbacks. Here and there that process, it is true, +entails a greater fullness of detail than is acceptable to ordinary +readers, however highly Bunsen’s own friends may value every line of his +familiar letters. But general readers may easily pass over letters +addressed to different persons, or treating of subjects less interesting +to themselves, without losing the thread of the story of the whole life; +while it is sometimes of great interest to see the same subject discussed +by Bunsen in letters addressed to different people. One serious difficulty +in these letters is that they are nearly all translations from the German, +and in the process of translation some of the original charm is inevitably +lost. The translations are very faithful, and they do not sacrifice the +peculiar turn of German thought to the requirements of strictly idiomatic +English. Even the narrative itself betrays occasionally the German +atmosphere in which it was written, but the whole book brings back all the +more vividly to those who knew Bunsen the language and the very +expressions of his English conversation. The two volumes are too bulky, +and one’s arms ache while holding them; yet one is loth to put them down, +and there will be few readers who do not regret that more could not have +been told us of Bunsen’s life. + +All really great and honest men may be said to live three lives: there is +one life which is seen and accepted by the world at large, a man’s outward +life; there is a second life which is seen by a man’s most intimate +friends, his household life; and there is a third life, seen only by the +man himself and by Him who searcheth the heart, which maybe called the +inner or heavenly life. Most biographers are and must be satisfied with +giving the two former aspects of their hero’s life,—the version of the +world, and that of his friends. Both are important, both contain some +truth, though neither of them the whole truth. But there is a third life, +a life led in communion with God, a life of aspiration rather than of +fulfillment,—that life which we see, for instance, in St. Paul, when he +says, “The good that I would, I do not; but the evil which I would not, +that I do.” It is but seldom that we catch a glimpse of those deep springs +of human character which cannot rise to the surface even in the most +confidential intercourse, which in every-day life are hidden from a man’s +own sight, but which break forth when he is alone with his God in secret +prayer,—aye, in prayers without words. Here lies the charm of Bunsen’s +life. Not only do we see the man, the father, the husband, the brother, +that stands behind the ambassador, but we see behind the man his angel +beholding the face of his Father which is in heaven. His prayers, poured +forth in the critical moments of his life, have been preserved to us, and +they show us what the world ought to know, that our greatest men can also +be our best men, and that freedom of thought is not incompatible with +sincere religion. Those who knew Bunsen well, know how that deep, +religious undercurrent of his soul was constantly bubbling up and breaking +forth in his conversations, startling even the mere worldling by an +earnestness that frightened away every smile. It was said of him that he +could drive out devils, and he certainly could, with his solemn, yet +loving voice, soften hearts that would yield to no other appeal, and see +with one look through that mask which man wears but too often in the +masquerade of the world. Hence his numerous and enduring friendships, of +which these volumes contain so many sacred relics. Hence that confidence +reposed in him by men and women who had once been brought in contact with +him. To those who can see with their eyes only, and not with their hearts, +it may seem strange that Sir Robert Peel, shortly before his death, should +have uttered the name of Bunsen. To those who know that England once had +prime ministers who were found praying on their knees before they +delivered their greatest speeches, Sir Robert Peel’s recollection, or, it +may be, desire of Bunsen in the last moments of his life has nothing +strange. Bunsen’s life was no ordinary life, and the memoirs of that life +are more than an ordinary book. That book will tell in England and in +Germany far more than in the Middle Ages the life of a new saint; nor are +there many saints whose real life, if sifted as the life of Bunsen has +been, would bear comparison with that noble character of the nineteenth +century. + +Bunsen was born in 1791 at Corbach, a small town in the small principality +of Waldeck. His father was poor, but a man of independent spirit, of moral +rectitude, and of deep religious convictions. Bunsen, the son of his old +age, distinguished himself at school, and was sent to the University of +Marburg at the age of seventeen. All he had then to depend on was an +exhibition of about £7 a year, and a sum of £15, which his father had +saved for him to start him in life. This may seem a small sum; but if we +want to know how much of paternal love and self-denial it represented, we +ought to read an entry in his father’s diary: “Account of cash receipts by +God’s mercy obtained for transcribing law documents between 1793 and +1814,—sum total 3,020 thalers 23 groschen,” that is to say, about £22 per +annum. Did any English Duke ever give his son a more generous +allowance,—more than two-thirds of his own annual income? Bunsen began by +studying divinity, and actually preached a sermon at Marburg, in the +Church of St. Elizabeth. Students in divinity are required in Germany to +preach sermons as part of their regular theological training, and before +they are actually ordained. Marburg was not then a very efficient +university, and, not finding there what he wanted, Bunsen after a year +went to Göttingen, chiefly attracted by the fame of Heyne. He soon devoted +himself entirely to classical studies: and in order to support +himself,—for £7 per annum will not support even a German student,—he +accepted the appointment of assistant teacher of Greek and Hebrew at the +Göttingen gymnasium, and also became private tutor to a young American, +Mr. Astor, the son of the rich American merchant. He was thus learning and +teaching at the same time, and he acquired by his daily intercourse with +his pupil a practical knowledge of the English language. While at +Göttingen he carried off, in 1812, a prize for an essay on “The Athenian +Law of Inheritance,” which attracted more than usual attention, and may, +in fact, be looked upon as one of the first attempts at Comparative +Jurisprudence. In 1713 he writes from Göttingen:— + + + “Poor and lonely did I arrive in this place. Heyne received me, + guided me, bore with me, encouraged me, showed me in himself the + example of a high and noble energy and indefatigable activity in a + calling which was not that to which his merit entitled him; he + might have superintended and administered and maintained an entire + kingdom.” + + +The following passage from the same letter deserves to be quoted as coming +from the pen of a young man of twenty-two:— + + + “Learning annihilates itself, and the most perfect is the first + submerged; for the next age scales with ease the height which cost + the preceding the full vigor of life.” + + +After leaving the university Bunsen travelled in Germany with young Astor, +and made the acquaintance of Frederic Schlegel at Vienna, of Jacobi, +Schelling, and Thiersch at Munich. He was all that time continuing his own +philological studies, and we see him at Munich attending lectures on +Criminal Law, and making his first beginning in the study of Persian. When +on the point of starting for Paris with his American pupil, the news of +the glorious battle of Leipzig (October, 1813) disturbed their plans, and +he resolved to settle again at Göttingen till peace should have been +concluded. Here, while superintending the studies of Mr. Astor, he plunged +into reading of the most varied character. He writes (p. 51):— + + + “I remain firm, and strive after my earliest purpose in life, more + felt, perhaps, than already discerned,—namely, to bring over into + my own knowledge and into my own Fatherland the language and the + spirit of the solemn and distant East. I would for the + accomplishment of this object even quit Europe, in order to draw + out of the ancient well that which I find not elsewhere.” + + +This is the first indication of an important element in Bunsen’s early +life, his longing for the East, and his all but prophetic anticipation of +the great results which a study of the ancient language of India would one +day yield, and the light it would shed on the darkest pages in the ancient +history of Greece, Italy, and Germany. The study of the Athenian law of +inheritance seems first to have drawn his attention to the ancient codes +of Indian law, and he was deeply impressed by the discovery that the +peculiar system of inheritance which in Greece existed only in the +petrified form of a primitive custom, sanctioned by law, disclosed in the +laws of Manu its original purport and natural meaning. This one spark +excited in Bunsen’s mind that constant yearning after a knowledge of +Eastern and more particularly of Indian literature which very nearly drove +him to India in the same adventurous spirit as Anquetil Duperron and Czoma +de Körös. We are now familiar with the great results that have been +obtained by a study of the ancient languages and religion of the East; but +in 1813 neither Bopp nor Grimm had begun to publish, and Frederic Schlegel +was the only one who in his little pamphlet, “On the Language and the +Wisdom of the Indians” (1808), had ventured to assert a real intellectual +relationship between Europe and India. One of Bunsen’s earliest friends, +Wolrad Schumacher, related that even at school Bunsen’s mind was turned +towards India. “Sometimes he would let fall a word about India which was +unaccountable to me, as at that time I connected only a geographical +conception with that name” (p. 17). + +While thus engaged in his studies at Göttingen, and working in company +with such friends as Brandis, the historian of Greek philosophy; Lachmann, +the editor of the New Testament; Lücke, the theologian; Ernst Schulze, the +poet, and others,—Bunsen felt the influence of the great events that +brought about the regeneration of Germany; nor was he the man to stand +aloof, absorbed in literary work, while others were busy doing mischief +difficult to remedy. The princes of Germany and their friends, though +grateful to the people for having at last shaken off with fearful +sacrifices the foreign yoke of Napoleon, were most anxious to maintain for +their own benefit that convenient system of police government which for so +long had kept the whole of Germany under French control. “It is but too +certain,” Bunsen writes, “that either for want of good-will or of +intelligence our sovereigns will not grant us freedom such as we +deserve.... And I fear that, as before, the much-enduring German will +become an object of contempt to all nations who know how to value national +spirit.” His first political essays belong to that period. Up to August, +1814, Bunsen continued to act as private tutor to Mr. Astor, though we see +him at the same time, with his insatiable thirst after knowledge, +attending courses of lectures on astronomy, mineralogy, and other subjects +apparently so foreign to the main current of his mind. When Mr. Astor left +him to return to America, Bunsen went to Holland to see a sister to whom +he was deeply attached, and who seems to have shared with him the same +religious convictions which in youth, manhood, and old age formed the +foundation of Bunsen’s life. Some of Bunsen’s detractors have accused him +of professing Christian piety in circles where such professions were sure +to be well received. Let them read now the annals of his early life, and +they will find to their shame how boldly the same Bunsen professed his +religious convictions among the students and professors of Göttingen, who +either scoffed at Christianity or only tolerated it as a kind of harmless +superstition. We shall only quote one instance:— + + + “Bunsen, when a young student at Göttingen, once suddenly quitted + a lecture in indignation at the unworthy manner in which the most + sacred subjects were treated by one of the professors. The + professor paused at the interruption, and hazarded the remark that + ‘some one belonging to the Old Testament had possibly slipped in + unrecognized.’ That called forth a burst of laughter from the + entire audience, all being as well aware as the lecturer himself + who it was that had mortified him.” + + +During his stay in Holland, Bunsen not only studied the language and +literature of that country, but his mind was also much occupied in +observing the national and religious character of this small but +interesting branch of the Teutonic race. He writes:— + + + “In all things the German, or, if you will, the Teutonic character + is worked out into form in a manner more decidedly national than + anywhere else.... This journey has yet more confirmed my decision + to become acquainted with the entire Germanic race, and then to + proceed with the development of my governing ideas (_i.e._ the + study of Eastern languages in elucidation of Western thought). For + this purpose I am about to travel with Brandis to Copenhagen to + learn Danish, and, above all, Icelandic.” + + +And so he did. The young student, as yet without any prospects in life, +threw up his position at Göttingen, declined to waste his energies as a +schoolmaster, and started, we hardly know how, on his journey to Denmark. +There, in company with Brandis, he lived and worked hard at Danish, and +then attacked the study of the ancient Icelandic language and literature +with a fervor and with a purpose that shrank from no difficulty. He writes +(p. 79):— + + + “The object of my research requires the acquisition of the whole + treasures of language, in order to complete my favorite linguistic + theories, and to inquire into the poetry and religious conceptions + of German-Scandinavian heathenism, and their historical connection + with the East.” + + +When his work in Denmark was finished, and when he had collected +materials, some of which, as his copy taken of the “Völuspa,” a poem of +the Edda, were not published till forty years later, he started with +Brandis for Berlin. “Prussia,” he writes on the 10th of October, 1815, “is +_the true_ Germany.” Thither he felt drawn, as well as Brandis, and +thither he invited his friends, though, it must be confessed, without +suggesting to them any settled plan of how to earn their daily bread. He +writes as if he was even then at the head of affairs in Berlin, though he +was only the friend of a friend of Niebuhr’s, Niebuhr himself being by no +means all powerful in Prussia, even in 1815. This hopefulness was a trait +in Bunsen’s character that remained through life. A plan was no sooner +suggested to him and approved by him than he took it for granted that all +obstacles must vanish, and many a time did all obstacles vanish, before +the joyous confidence of that magician, a fact that should be remembered +by those who used to blame him as sanguine and visionary. One of his +friends, Lücke, writes to Ernst Schulze, the poet, whom Bunsen had invited +to Denmark, and afterwards to Berlin:— + + + “In the inclosed richly filled letter you will recognize Bunsen’s + power and splendor of mind, and you will also not fail to perceive + his thoughtlessness in making projects. He and Brandis are a pair + of most amiable speculators, full of affection; but one must meet + them with the _ne quid nimis_.” + + +However, Bunsen in his flight was not to be scared by any warning or +checked by calculating the chances of success or failure. With Brandis he +went to Berlin, spent the glorious winter from 1815 to 1816 in the society +of men like Niebuhr and Schleiermacher, and became more and more +determined in his own plan of life, which was to study Oriental languages +in Paris, London, or Calcutta, and then to settle at Berlin as Professor +of Universal History. A full statement of his literary labors, both for +the past and for the future, was drawn up by him, to be submitted to +Niebuhr, and it will be read even now with interest by those who knew +Bunsen when he tried to take up after forty years the threads that had +slipped from his hand at the age of four-and-twenty. + +Instead of being sent to study at Paris and London by the Prussian +government, as he seems to have wished, he was suddenly called to Paris by +his old pupil, Mr. Astor, who, after two years’ absence, had returned to +Europe, and was anxious to renew his relations with Bunsen. Bunsen’s +object in accepting Astor’s invitation to Paris was to study Persian; and +great was his disappointment when, on arriving there, Mr. Astor wished him +at once to start for Italy. This was too much for Bunsen, to be turned +back just as he was going to quench his thirst for Oriental literature in +the lectures of Sylvestre de Sacy. A compromise was effected. Bunsen +remained for three months in Paris, and promised then to join his friend +and pupil in Italy. How he worked at Persian and Arabic during the +interval must be read in his own letters:— + + + “I write from six in the morning till four in the afternoon, only + in the course of that time having a walk in the garden of the + Luxembourg, where I also often study; from four to six I dine and + walk; from six to seven sleep; from seven to eleven work again. I + have overtaken in study some of the French students who had begun + a year ago. God be thanked for this help! Before I go to bed I + read a chapter in the New Testament, in the morning on rising one + in the Old Testament; yesterday I began the Psalms from the + first.” + + +As soon as he felt that he could continue his study of Persian without the +aid of a master, he left Paris. Though immersed in work, he had made +several acquaintances, among others that of Alexander von Humboldt, “who +intends in a few years to visit Asia, where I may hope to meet him. He has +been beyond measure kind to me, and from him I shall receive the best +recommendations for Italy and England, as well as from his brother, now +Prussian Minister in London. Lastly, the winter in Rome may become to me, +by the presence of Niebuhr, more instructive and fruitful than in any +other place. Thus has God ordained all things for me for the best, +according to His will, not mine, and far better than I deserve.” + +These were the feelings with which the young scholar, then twenty-four +years of age, started for Italy, as yet without any position, without +having published a single work, without knowing, as we may suppose, where +to rest his head. And yet he was full, not only of hope, but of gratitude, +and he little dreamt that before seven years had passed he would be in +Niebuhr’s place; and before twenty-five years had passed in the place of +William von Humboldt, the Prussian Ambassador at the Court of St. James. + +The immediate future, in fact, had some severe disappointments in store +for him. When he arrived at Florence to meet Mr. Astor, the young American +had received peremptory orders to return to New York; and as Bunsen +declined to follow him, he found himself really stranded at Florence, and +all his plans thoroughly upset. Yet, though at that very time full of care +and anxiety about his nearest relations, who looked to him for support +when he could hardly support himself, his God-trusting spirit did not +break down. He remained at Florence, continuing his Persian studies, and +making a living by private tuition. A Mr. Cathcart seems to have been his +favorite pupil, and through him new prospects of eventually proceeding to +India seemed to open. But, at the same time, Bunsen began to feel that the +circumstances of his life became critical. “I feel,” he says, “that I am +on the point of securing or losing the fruit of my labors for life.” Rome +and Niebuhr seemed the only haven in sight, and thither Bunsen now began +to steer his frail bark. He arrived in Rome on the 14th of November, 1816. +Niebuhr, who was Prussian Minister, received him with great kindness, and +entered heartily into the literary plans of his young friend. Brandis, +Niebuhr’s secretary, renewed in common with his old friend his study of +Greek philosophy. A native teacher of Arabic was engaged to help Bunsen in +his Oriental studies. The necessary supplies seem to have come partly from +Mr. Astor, partly from private lessons for which Bunsen had to make time +in the midst of his varied occupations. Plato, Firdusi, the Koran, Dante, +Isaiah, the Edda, are mentioned by himself as his daily study. + +From an English point of view that young man at Rome, without a status, +without a settled prospect in life, would have seemed an amiable dreamer, +destined to wake suddenly, and not very pleasantly, to the stern realities +of life. If anything seemed unlikely, it was that an English gentleman, a +man of good birth and of independent fortune, should give his daughter to +this poor young German at Rome. Yet this was the very thing which a kind +Providence, that Providence in which Bunsen trusted amid all his troubles +and difficulties, brought to pass. Bunsen became acquainted with Mr. +Waddington, and was allowed to read German with his daughters. In the most +honorable manner he broke off his visits when he became aware of his +feelings for Miss Waddington. He writes to his sister:— + + + “Having, at first, believed myself quite safe (the more so as I + cannot think of marrying without impairing my whole scheme of + mental development, and, least of all, could I think of pretending + to a girl of fortune), I thought there was no danger.” + + +A little later he writes to Mrs. Waddington to explain to her the reason +for his discontinuing his visits. But the mother—and, to judge from her +letters, a high-minded mother she must have been—accepted Bunsen on trust; +he was allowed to return to the house, and on the 1st of July, 1817, the +young German student, then twenty-five years of age, was married at Rome +to Miss Waddington. What a truly important event this was for Bunsen, even +those who had not the privilege of knowing the partner of his life may +learn from the work before us. Though little is said in these memoirs of +his wife, the mother of his children, the partner of his joys and sorrows, +it is easy to see how Bunsen’s whole mode of life became possible only by +the unceasing devotion of an ardent soul and a clear head consecrated to +one object,—to love and to cherish, for better for worse, for richer for +poorer, in sickness and in health, till death us do part,—aye, and even +after death! With such a wife, the soul of Bunsen could soar on its wings, +the small cares of life were removed, an independence was secured, and, +though the Indian plans had to be surrendered, the highest ambition of +Bunsen’s life, a professorship in a German university, seemed now easy of +attainment. We should have liked a few more pages describing the joyous +life of the young couple in the heyday of their life; we could have wished +that he had not declined the wish of his mother-in-law, to have his bust +made by Thorwaldsen, at a time when he must have been a model of manly +beauty. But if we know less than we could wish of what Bunsen then was in +the eyes of the world, we are allowed an insight into that heavenly life +which underlay all the outward happiness of that time, and which shows him +to us as but one eye could then have seen him. A few weeks after his +marriage he writes in his journal:— + + + “Eternal, omnipresent God! enlighten me with thy Holy Spirit, and + fill me with thy heavenly light! What in childhood I felt and + yearned after, what throughout the years of youth grew clearer and + clearer before my soul, I will now venture to hold fast, to + examine, to represent the revelation of Thee in man’s energies and + efforts: thy firm path through the stream of ages I long to trace + and recognize, as far as may be permitted to me even in this body + of earth. The song of praise to Thee from the whole of humanity, + in times far and near,—the pains and lamentations of men, and + their consolations in Thee,—I wish to take in, clear and + unhindered. Do Thou send me thy Spirit of Truth, that I may behold + things earthly as they are, without veil and without mask, without + human trappings and empty adornment, and that in the silent peace + of truth I may feel and recognize Thee. Let me not falter, nor + slide away from the great end of knowing Thee. Let not the joys, + or honors, or vanities of the world enfeeble and darken my spirit; + let me ever feel that I can only perceive and know Thee in so far + as mine is a living soul, and lives, and moves, and has its being + in Thee.” + + +Here we see Bunsen as the world did not see him, and we may observe how +then, as ever, his literary work was to him hallowed by the objects for +which it was intended. “The firm path of God through the stream of ages” +is but another title for one of his last works, “God in History,” planned +with such youthful ardor, and finished under the lengthening shadow of +death. + +The happiness of Bunsen’s life at Rome may easily be imagined. Though +anxious to begin his work at a German university, he stipulated for three +more years of freedom and preparation. Who could have made the sacrifice +of the bright spring of life, of the unclouded days of happiness at Rome +with wife and children, and with such friends as Niebuhr and Brandis? Yet +this stay at Rome was fraught with fatal consequences. It led the straight +current of Bunsen’s life, which lay so clear before him, into a new bed, +at first very tempting, for a time smooth and sunny, but alas! ending in +waste of energy for which no outward splendor could atone. The first false +step seemed very natural and harmless. When Brandis went to Germany to +begin his professorial work, Bunsen took his place as Niebuhr’s secretary +at Rome. He was determined, then, that nothing should induce him to remain +in the diplomatic career (p. 130), but the current of that mill-stream was +too strong even for Bunsen. How he remained as Secretary of Legation, +1818; how the King of Prussia, Frederick William III., came to visit Rome, +and took a fancy to the young diplomatist, who could speak to him with a +modesty and frankness little known at courts; how, when Niebuhr exchanged +his embassy for a professorial chair at Bonn, Bunsen remained as Chargé +d’Affaires; how he went to Berlin, 1827-28, and gained the hearts of the +old King and of everybody else; how he returned to Rome and was fascinated +by the young Crown Prince of Prussia, afterwards Frederick William IV., +whom he had to conduct through the antiquities and the modern life of the +world city; how he became Prussian Minister, the friend of popes and +cardinals, the centre of the best and most brilliant society; how, when +the difficulties began between Prussia and the Papal government, chiefly +with regard to mixed marriages, Bunsen tried to mediate, and was at last +disowned by both parties in 1838,—all this may now be read in the open +memoirs of his life. His letters during these twenty years are numerous +and full, particularly those addressed to his sister, to whom he was +deeply attached. They are the most touching and elevating record of a life +spent in important official business, in interesting social intercourse, +in literary and antiquarian researches, in the enjoyment of art and +nature, and in the blessedness of a prosperous family life, and throughout +in an unbroken communion with God. There is hardly a letter without an +expression of that religion in common life, that constant consciousness of +a Divine Presence, which made his life a life in God. To many readers this +free outpouring of a God-loving soul will seem to approach too near to +that abuse of religious phraseology which is a sign of superficial rather +than of deep-seated piety. But, though through life a sworn enemy of every +kind of cant, Bunsen never would surrender the privilege of speaking the +language of a Christian, because that language had been profaned by the +thoughtless repetition of shallow pietists. + +Bunsen has frequently been accused of pietism, particularly in Germany, by +men who could not distinguish between pietism and piety, just as in +England he was attacked as a freethinker by men who never knew the freedom +of the children of God. “Christianity is ours, not theirs,” he would +frequently say of those who made religion a mere profession, and imagined +they knew Christ because they held a crosier and wore a mitre. We can now +watch the deep emotions and firm convictions of that true-hearted man, in +letters of undoubted sincerity, addressed to his sister and his friends, +and we can only wonder with what feelings they have been perused by those +who in England questioned his Christianity or who in Germany suspected his +honesty. + +From the time of his first meeting with the King of Prussia at Rome, and +still more, after his stay at Berlin in 1827, Bunsen’s chief interest with +regard to Prussia centred in ecclesiastical matters. The King, after +effecting the union of the Lutheran and Calvinistic branches of the +Protestant Church, was deeply interested in drawing up a new Liturgy for +his own national, or, as it was called, Evangelical Church. The +introduction of his Liturgy, or _Agenda_, particularly as it was carried +out, like everything else in Prussia, by royal decree, met with +considerable resistance. Bunsen, who had been led independently to the +study of ancient liturgies, and who had devoted much of his time at Rome +to the collection of ancient hymns and hymn tunes, could speak to the King +on these favorite topics from the fullness of his heart. The King listened +to him, even when Bunsen ventured to express his dissent from some of the +royal proposals, and when he, the young attaché, deprecated any +authoritative interference with the freedom of the Church. In Prussia the +whole movement was unpopular, and Bunsen, though he worked hard to render +it less so, was held responsible for much which he himself had +disapproved. Of all these turbulent transactions there remains but one +bright and precious relic, Bunsen’s “Hymn and Prayer Book.” + +The Prussian Legation on the Capitol was during Bunsen’s day not only the +meeting-place of all distinguished Germans, but, in the absence of an +English embassy, it also became the recognized centre of the most +interesting portion of English society at Rome. Among the Germans, whose +presence told on Bunsen’s life, either by a continued friendship or by +common interests and pursuits, we meet the names of Ludwig, King of +Bavaria; Baron von Stein, the great Prussian statesman; Radowitz, the less +fortunate predecessor of Bismarck; Schnorr, Overbeck, and Mendelssohn. +Among Englishmen, whose friendship with Bunsen dates from the Capitol, we +find Thirlwall, Philip Pusey, Arnold, and Julius Hare. The names of +Thorwaldsen, too, of Leopardi, Lord Hastings, Champollion, Sir Walter +Scott, Chateaubriand, occur again and again in the memoirs of that Roman +life which teems with interesting events and anecdotes. The only literary +productions of that eventful period are Bunsen’s part in Platner’s +“Description of Rome,” and the “Hymn and Prayer Book.” But much material +for later publications had been amassed in the mean time. The study of the +Old Testament had been prosecuted at all times, and in 1824 the first +beginning was made by Bunsen in the study of hieroglyphics, afterwards +continued with Champollion, and later with Lepsius. The Archæological +Institute and the German Hospital, both on the Capitol, were the two +permanent bequests that Bunsen left behind when he shook off the dust of +his feet, and left Rome on the 29th of April, 1838, in search of a new +Capitol. + +At Berlin, Bunsen was then in disgrace. He had not actually been dismissed +the service, but he was prohibited from going to Berlin to justify +himself, and he was ordered to proceed to England on leave of absence. To +England, therefore, Bunsen now directed his steps with his wife and +children, and there, at least, he was certain of a warm welcome, both from +his wife’s relations and from his own very numerous friends. When we read +through the letters of that period, we hardly miss the name of a single +man illustrious at that time in England. As if to make up for the +injustice done to him in Italy, and for the ingratitude of his country, +people of all classes and of the most opposite views vied in doing him +honor. Rest he certainly found none, while travelling about from one town +to another, and staying at friends’ houses, attending meetings, making +speeches, writing articles, and, as usual, amassing new information +wherever he could find it. He worked at Egyptian with Lepsius; at Welsh +while staying with Lady Hall; at Ethnology with Dr. Prichard. He had to +draw up two state papers,—one on the Papal aggression, the other on the +law of divorce. He plunged, of course, at once into all the ecclesiastical +and theological questions that were then agitating people’s minds in +England, and devoted his few really quiet hours to the preparation of his +own “Life of Christ.” With Lord Ashley he attended Bible meetings, with +Mrs. Fry he explored the prisons, with Philip Pusey he attended +agricultural assemblies, and he spent night after night as an admiring +listener in the House of Commons. He was presented to the Queen and the +Duke of Wellington, was made a D.C.L. at Oxford, discussed the future with +J. H. Newman, the past with Buckland, Sedgwick, and Whewell. Lord +Palmerston and Lord John Russell invited him to political conferences; +Maurice and Keble listened to his fervent addresses; Dr. Arnold consulted +the friend of Niebuhr on his own “History of Rome,” and tried to convert +him to more liberal opinions with regard to Church reform. Dr. Holland, +Mrs. Austin, Ruskin, Carlyle, Macaulay, Gaisford, Dr. Hawkins, and many +more, all greeted him, all tried to do him honor, and many of them became +attached to him for life. The architectural monuments of England, its +castles, parks, and ruins, passed quickly through his field of vision +during that short stay. But he soon calls out: “I care not now for all the +ruins of England; it is her life that I like.” + +Most touching is his admiration, his real love of Gladstone. Thirty years +have since passed, and the world at large has found out by this time what +England possesses in him. But it was not so in 1838, and few men at that +early time could have read Gladstone’s heart and mind so truly as Bunsen. +Here are a few of his remarks:— + + + “Last night, when I came home from the Duke, Gladstone’s book was + on my table, the second edition having come out at seven o’clock. + It is the book of the time, a great event,—the first book since + Burke that goes to the bottom of the vital question; far above his + party and his time. I sat up till after midnight; and this morning + I continued until I had read the whole, and almost every sheet + bears my marginal glosses, destined for the Prince, to whom I have + sent the book with all dispatch. Gladstone is the first man in + England as to intellectual powers, and he has heard higher tones + than any one else in this island.” + + +And again (p. 493):— + + + “Gladstone is by far the first living intellectual power on that + side. He has left his schoolmasters far behind him, but we must + not wonder if he still walks in their trammels; his genius will + soon free itself entirely, and fly towards heaven with its own + wings.... I wonder Gladstone should not have the feeling of moving + on an _inclined plane_, or that of sitting down among ruins, as if + he were settled in a well-stored house.” + + +Of Newman, whom he had met at Oxford, Bunsen says:— + + + “This morning I have had two hours at breakfast with Newman. O! it + is sad,—he and his friends are truly intellectual people, but they + have lost their ground, going exactly _my way_, but stopping short + in the middle. It is too late. There has been an amicable change + of ideas and a Christian understanding. Yesterday he preached a + beautiful sermon. A new period of life begins for me; may God’s + blessing be upon it!” + + +Oxford made a deep impression on Bunsen’s mind. He writes:— + + + “I am luxuriating in the delights of Oxford. There has never been + enough said of this queen of all cities.” + + +But what as a German he admired and envied most was, after all, the House +of Commons:— + + + “I wish you could form an idea of what I felt. I saw for the first + time _man_, the member of a true Germanic State, in his highest, + his proper place, defending the highest interests of humanity with + the wonderful power of speech-wrestling, but with the arm of the + spirit, boldly grasping at or tenaciously holding fast power, in + the presence of his fellow-citizens, submitting to the public + conscience the judgment of his cause and of his own uprightness. I + saw before me the empire of the world governed, and the rest of + the world controlled and judged, by this assembly. I had the + feeling that, had I been born in England, I would rather be dead + than not sit among and speak among them. I thought of my own + country, and was thankful that I _could_ thank God for being a + German and being myself. But I felt, also, that we are all + children on this field in comparison with the English; how much + they, with their discipline of mind, body, and heart, can effect + even with but moderate genius, and even with talent alone! I drank + in every word from the lips of the speakers, even those I + disliked.” + + +More than a year was thus spent in England in the very fullness of life. +“My stay in England in 1838-39,” he writes at a later time, the 22d of +September, 1841, “was the poetry of my existence as a man; this is the +prose of it. There was a dew upon those fifteen months, which the sun has +dried up, and which nothing can restore.” Yet even then Bunsen could not +have been free from anxieties for the future. He had a large family +growing up, and he was now again, at the age of forty-seven, without any +definite prospects in life. In spite, however, of the intrigues of his +enemies, the personal feelings of the King and the Crown Prince prevailed +at last; and he was appointed in July, 1839, as Prussian Minister in +Switzerland, his secret and confidential instructions being “to do +nothing.” These instructions were carefully observed by Bunsen, as far as +politics were concerned. He passed two years of rest at the Hubel, near +Berne, with his family, devoted to his books, receiving visits from his +friends, and watching from a distance the coming events in Prussia. + +In 1840 the old King died, and it was generally expected that Bunsen would +at once receive an influential position at Berlin. Not till April, 1841, +however, was he summoned to the court, although, to judge from the +correspondence between him and the new King, Frederick William IV., few +men could have enjoyed a larger share of royal confidence and love than +Bunsen. The King was hungering and thirsting after Bunsen, yet Bunsen was +not invited to Berlin. The fact is that the young King had many friends, +and those friends were not the friends of Bunsen. They were satisfied with +his honorary exile in Switzerland, and thought him best employed at a +distance in doing nothing. The King too, who knew Bunsen’s character from +former years, must have known that Berlin was not large enough for him; +and he therefore left him in his Swiss retirement till an employment +worthy of him could be found. This was to go on a special mission to +England with a view of establishing, in common with the Church of England, +a Protestant bishopric at Jerusalem. In Jerusalem the King hoped that the +two principal Protestant churches of Europe would, across the grave of the +Redeemer, reach to each other the right hand of fellowship. Bunsen entered +into this plan with all the energy of his mind and heart. It was a work +thoroughly congenial to himself; and if it required diplomatic skill, +certainly no one could have achieved it more expeditiously and +successfully than Bunsen. He was then a _persona grata_ with bishops and +archbishops, and Lord Ashley—not yet Lord Shaftesbury—gave him all the +support his party could command. English influence was then so powerful at +Constantinople that all difficulties due to Turkish bigotry were quickly +removed. At the end of June, 1841, he arrived in London; on the 6th of +August he wrote, “All is settled;” and on the 7th of November the new +Bishop of Jerusalem was consecrated. Seldom was a more important and more +complicated transaction settled in so short a time. Had the discussions +been prolonged, had time been given to the leaders of the Romanizing party +to recover from their surprise, the bill that had to be passed through +both houses would certainly have been defeated. People have hardly yet +understood the real bearing of that measure, nor appreciated the germ +which it may still contain for the future of the Reformed Church. One man +only seems to have seen clearly what a blow this first attempt at a union +between the Protestant churches of England and Germany was to his own +plans, and to the plans of his friends; and we know now, from Newman’s +“Apologia,” that the bishopric of Jerusalem drove him to the Church of +Rome. This may have been for the time a great loss to the Church of +England; it marked, at all events, a great crisis in her history. + +In spite, however, of his great and unexpected success, there are traces +of weariness in Bunsen’s letters of that time, which show that he was +longing for more congenial work. “O, how I hate and detest diplomatic +life!” he wrote to his wife; “and how little true intellectuality is there +in the high society here as soon as you cease to speak of English national +subjects and interests; and the eternal hurricanes, whirling, urging, +rushing, in this monster of a town! Even with you and the children life +would become oppressive under the diplomatic burden. I can pray for our +country life, but I cannot pray for a London life, although I dare not +pray against it, _if it must be_.” + +Bunsen’s observations of character amidst the distractions of his London +season are very interesting and striking, particularly at this distance of +time. He writes:— + + + “Mr. Gladstone has been invited to become one of the trustees of + the Jerusalem Fund. He is beset with scruples; his heart is with + us, but his mind is entangled in a narrow system. He awaits + salvation from another code, and by wholly different ways from + myself. Yesterday morning I had a letter from him of twenty-four + pages, to which I replied early this morning by eight. + + + “The Bishop of London constantly rises in my estimation. He has + replied admirably to Mr. Gladstone, closing with the words, ‘My + dear sir, my intention is not to limit and restrict the Church of + Christ, but to enlarge it.’ ” + + +A letter from Sir Robert Peel, too, must here be quoted in full:— + + + “WHITEHALL, _October_ 10, 1841. + + + “MY DEAR MR. BUNSEN,—My note merely conveyed a request that you + would be good enough to meet Mr. Cornelius at dinner on Friday + last. + + + “I assure you that I have been amply repaid for any attention I + may have shown to that distinguished artist, in the personal + satisfaction I have had in the opportunity of making his + acquaintance. He is one of a noble people distinguished in every + art of war and peace. The union and patriotism of that people, + spread over the centre of Europe, will contribute the surest + guarantee for the peace of the world, and the most powerful check + upon the spread of all pernicious doctrines injurious to the cause + of religion and order, and that liberty which respects the rights + of others. + + + “My earnest hope is that every member of this illustrious race, + while he may cherish the particular country of his birth as he + does his home, will extend his devotion beyond its narrow limits, + and exult in the name of a German, and recognize the claim of + Germany to the love and affection and patriotic exertions of all + her sons. + + + “I hope I judge the feelings of every German by those which were + excited in my own breast (in the breast of a foreigner and a + stranger) by a simple ballad, that seemed, however, to concentrate + the will of a mighty people, and said emphatically,— + + + “They shall not have the Rhine.” + + + “_They_ will not have it: and the Rhine will be protected by a + song, if the sentiments which that song embodies pervade, as I + hope and trust they do, every German heart. + + + “You will begin to think that I am a good German myself, and so I + am, if hearty wishes for the union and welfare of the German race + can constitute one. + + + “Believe me, most faithfully yours, + + + “ROBERT PEEL.” + + +When Bunsen was on the point of leaving London, he received the unexpected +and unsolicited appointment of Prussian Envoy in England, an appointment +which he could not bring himself to decline, and which again postponed for +twelve years his cherished plans of an _otium cum dignitate_. What the +world at large would have called the most fortunate event in Bunsen’s life +proved indeed a real misfortune. It deprived Bunsen of the last chance of +fully realizing the literary plans of his youth, and it deprived the world +of services that no one could have rendered so well in the cause of +freedom of thought, of practical religion, and in teaching the weighty +lessons of antiquity to the youth of the future. It made him waste his +precious hours in work that any Prussian baron could have done as well, if +not better, and did not set him free until his bodily strength was +undermined, and the joyful temper of his mind saddened by sad experiences. + +Nothing could have been more brilliant than the beginning of Bunsen’s +diplomatic career in England. First came the visit of the King of Prussia, +whom the Queen had invited to be godfather to the Prince of Wales. Soon +after the Prince of Prussia came to England under the guidance of Bunsen. +Then followed the return visit of the Queen at Stolzenfels, on the Rhine. +All this, no doubt, took up much of Bunsen’s time, but it gave him also +the pleasantest introduction to the highest society of England; for as +Baroness Bunsen shrewdly remarks, “there is nothing like standing within +the Bude-light of royalty to make one conspicuous, and sharpen perceptions +and recollections.” (II. p. 8.) Bunsen complained, no doubt, now and then, +about excessive official work, yet he seemed on the whole reconciled to +his position, and up to the year 1847 we hear of no attempts to escape +from diplomatic bondage. In a letter to Mrs. Fry he says:— + + + “I can assure you I never passed a more quiet and truly + satisfactory evening in London than the last, in the Queen’s + house, in the midst of the excitement of the season. I think this + is a circumstance for which one ought to be thankful; and it has + much reminded me of hours that I have spent at Berlin and Sans + Souci with the King and the Queen and the Prince William, and, I + am thankful to add, with the Princess of Prussia, mother of the + future King. It is a striking and consoling and instructive proof + that what is called the world, the great world, is not necessarily + worldly in itself, but only by that inward worldliness which, as + rebellion against the spirit, creeps into the cottage as well as + into the palace, and against which no outward form is any + protection. Forms and rules may prevent the outbreak of wrong, but + cannot regenerate right, and may quench the spirit and poison + inward truth. The Queen gives hours daily to the labor of + examining into the claims of the numberless petitions addressed to + her, among other duties to which her time of privacy is devoted.” + + +The Queen’s name and that of Prince Albert occur often in these memoirs, +and a few of Bunsen’s remarks and observations may be of interest, though +they contain little that can now be new to the readers of the “Life of the +Prince Consort” and of the “Queen’s Journal.” + +First, a graphic description, from the hand of Baroness Bunsen, of the +Queen opening Parliament in 1842:— + + + “Last, the procession of the Queen’s entry, and herself, looking + worthy and fit to be the converging point of so many rays of + grandeur. It is self-evident that she is not tall; but were she + ever so tall, she could not have more grace and dignity, a head + better set, a throat more royally and classically arching; and one + advantage there is in her not being taller, that when she casts a + glance, it is of necessity upwards and not downwards, and thus the + effect of the eyes is not thrown away,—the beam and effluence not + lost. The composure with which she filled the throne, while + awaiting the Commons, was a test of character,—no fidget and no + apathy. Then her voice and enunciation could not be more perfect. + In short, it could not be said that _she did well_, but she _was_ + the Queen,—she was, and felt herself to be, the acknowledged chief + among grand and national realities.” (Vol. II. p. 10.) + + +The next is an account of the Queen at Windsor Castle on receiving the +Princess of Prussia, in 1842:— + + + “The Queen looked well and _rayonnante_, with that expression that + she always has when thoroughly pleased with all that occupies her + mind, which you know I always observe with delight, as fraught + with that truth and reality which so essentially belong to her + character, and so strongly distinguish her countenance, in all its + changes, from the _fixed mask_ only too common in the royal rank + of society.” (Vol. II. p. 115.) + + +After having spent some days at Windsor Castle, Bunsen writes in 1846:— + + + “The Queen often spoke with me about education, and in particular + of religious instruction. Her views are very serious, but at the + same time liberal and comprehensive. She (as well as Prince + Albert) hates all formalism. The Queen reads a great deal, and has + done my book on ‘The Church of the Future’ the honor to read it so + attentively, that the other day, when at Cashiobury, seeing the + book on the table, she looked out passages which she had approved + in order to read them aloud to the Queen-Dowager.” (Vol. II. p. + 121.) + + +And once more:— + + + “The Queen is a wife and a mother as happy as the happiest in her + dominions, and no one can be more careful of her charges. She + often speaks to me of the great task before her and the Prince in + the education of the royal children, and particularly of the + Prince of Wales and the Princess Royal.” + + +Before the troubles of 1847 and 1848, Bunsen was enabled to spend part of +his time in the country, away from the turmoil of London, and much of his +literary work dates from that time. After his “Church of the Future,” the +discovery of the genuine Epistles of Ignatius by the late Dr. Cureton led +Bunsen back to the study of the earliest literature of the Christian +Church, and the results of these researches were published in his +“Ignatius.” Lepsius’ stay in England and his expedition to Egypt induced +Bunsen to put his own materials in order, and to give to the world his +long-matured views on “The Place of Egypt in Universal History.” The later +volumes of this work led him into philological studies of a more general +character, and at the meeting of the British Association at Oxford, in +1847, he read before the brilliantly attended ethnological section his +paper “On the Results of the recent Egyptian Researches in reference to +Asiatic and African Ethnology, and the Classification of Languages,” +published in the “Transactions” of the Association, and separately under +the title, “Three Linguistic Dissertations, by Chevalier Bunsen, Dr. +Charles Meyer, and Dr. Max Müller.” “Those three days at Oxford,” he +writes, “were a time of great distinction to me, both in my public and +private capacity.” Everything important in literature and art attracted +not only his notice, but his warmest interest; and no one who wanted +encouragement, advice, or help in literary or historical researches, +knocked in vain at Bunsen’s door. His table at breakfast and dinner was +filled by ambassadors and professors, by bishops and missionaries, by +dukes and poor scholars, and his evening parties offered a kind of neutral +ground, where people could meet who could have met nowhere else, and where +English prejudices had no jurisdiction. That Bunsen, holding the position +which he held in society, but still more being what he was apart from his +social position, should have made his presence felt in England, was not to +be wondered at. He would speak out whenever he felt strongly, but he was +the last man to meddle or to intrigue. He had no time even if he had had +taste for it. But there were men in England who could never forgive him +for the Jerusalem bishopric, and who resorted to the usual tactics for +making a man unpopular. A cry was soon raised against his supposed +influence at court, and doubts were thrown out as to his orthodoxy. Every +Liberal bishop that was appointed was said to have been appointed through +Bunsen. Dr. Hampden was declared to have been his nominee,—the fact being +that Bunsen did not even know of him before he had been made a bishop. As +his practical Christianity could not well be questioned, he was accused of +holding heretical opinions, because his chronology differed from that of +Jewish Rabbis and Bishop Usher. It is extraordinary how little Bunsen +himself cared about these attacks, though they caused acute suffering to +his family. He was not surprised that he should be hated by those whose +theological opinions he considered unsound, and whose ecclesiastical +politics he had openly declared to be fraught with danger to the most +sacred interests of the Church. Besides, he was the personal friend of +such men as Arnold, Hare, Thirlwall, Maurice, Stanley, and Jowett. He had +even a kind word to say for Froude’s “Nemesis of Faith.” He could +sympathize, no doubt, with all that was good and honest, whether among the +High Church or Low Church party, and many of his personal friends belonged +to the one as well as to the other; but he could also thunder forth with +no uncertain sound against everything that seemed to him hypocritical, +pharisaical, unchristian. Thus he writes (II. p. 81):— + + + “I apprehend having given the ill-disposed a pretext for + considering me a semi-Pelagian, a contemner of the Sacraments, or + denier of the Son, a perverter of the doctrine of justification, + and therefore a crypto-Catholic theosophist, heretic, and + enthusiast, deserving of all condemnation. I have written it + because I felt compelled in conscience to do so.” + + +Again (II. p. 87):— + + + “In my letter to Mr. Gladstone, I have maintained the lawfulness + and the apostolic character of the German Protestant Church. You + will find the style changed in this work, bolder and more free.” + + +Attacks, indeed, became frequent, and more and more bitter, but Bunsen +seldom took any notice of them. He writes:— + + + “Hare is full of wrath at an attack made upon me in the ‘Christian + Remembrancer’—in a very Jesuitical way insinuating that I ought + not to have so much influence allowed me. Another article + execrates the bishopric of Jerusalem as an abomination. This zeal + savors more of hatred than of charity.” + + +But though Bunsen felt far too firmly grounded in his own Christian faith +to be shaken by such attacks upon himself, he too could be roused to wrath +and indignation when the poisoned arrows of theological Fijians were shot +against his friends. When speaking of the attacks on Arnold, he writes:— + + + “Truth is nothing in this generation except a means, in the best + case, to something good; but never, like virtue, considered as + good, as the good,—the object in itself. X dreams away in + twilight. Y is sliding into Puseyism. Z (the Evangelicals) go on + thrashing the old straw. I wish it were otherwise; but I love + England, with all her faults. I write to you, now only to you, all + I think. All the errors and blunders which make the Puseyites a + stumbling-block to so many,—the rock on which they split is no + other than what Rome split upon, self-righteousness, out of want + of understanding justification by faith, and hovering about the + unholy and blasphemous idea of atoning for our sins, because they + feel not, understand not, indeed, believe not, _the Atonement_, + and therefore enjoy not the glorious privileges of the children of + God,—the blessed duty of the sacrifice of thanksgiving through Him + who atoned for them. Therefore no sacrifice,—therefore no + Christian priesthood,—no Church. By our fathers these ideas were + fundamentally acknowledged; they were in abeyance in the worship + of the Church, but not on the domestic altar and in the hymns of + the spirit. With the Puseyites, as with the Romanists, these ideas + are cut off at the roots. O when will the Word of God be brought + up against them? What a state this country is in! The land of + liberty rushing into the worst slavery, the veriest thralldom!” + + +To many people it might have seemed as if Bunsen during all this time was +too much absorbed in English interests, political, theological, and +social, that he had ceased to care for what was passing in his own +country. His letters, however, tell a different tale. His voluminous +correspondence with the King of Prussia, though not yet published, will +one day bear witness to Bunsen’s devotion to his country, and his +enthusiastic attachment to the house of Hohenzollern. From year to year he +was urging on the King and his advisers the wisdom of liberal concessions, +and the absolute necessity of action. He was working at plans for +constitutional reforms; he went to Berlin to rouse the King, to shame his +ministers, to insist in season and out of season on the duty of acting +before it was too late. His faith in the King is most touching. When he +goes to Berlin in 1844, he sees everywhere how unpopular the King is, how +even his best intentions are misunderstood and misrepresented. Yet he goes +on working and hoping, and he sacrifices his own popularity rather than +oppose openly the suicidal policy that might have ruined Prussia, if +Prussia could have been ruined. Thus he writes in August, 1845:— + + + “To act as a statesman at the helm, in the Fatherland, I consider + not to be in the least my calling: what I believe to be my calling + is to be mounted high before the mast, to observe what land, what + breakers, what signs of coming storm there may be, and then to + announce them to the wise and practical steersman. It is the same + to me whether my own nation shall know in my life-time or after my + death how faithfully I have taken to heart its weal and woe, be it + in Church or State, and borne it on my heart as my nearest + interest, as long as life lasted. I give up the point of making + myself understood in the present generation. Here (in London) I + consider myself to be upon the right spot. I seek to preserve + peace and unity, and to remove dissatisfaction, wherever it is + possible.” + + +Nothing, however, was done. Year after year was thrown away, like a +Sibylline leaf, and the penalty for the opportunities that had been lost +became heavier and heavier. The King, particularly when he was under the +influences of Bunsen’s good genius, was ready for any sacrifice. “The +commotion,” he exclaimed, in 1845, “can only be met and overcome by +freedom, absolute freedom.” But when Bunsen wanted measures, not words, +the King himself seemed powerless. Surrounded as he was by men of the most +opposite characters and interests, and quite capable of gauging them +all,—for his intellect was of no common stamp,—he could agree with all of +them to a certain point, but could never bring himself to go the whole +length with any one of them. Bunsen writes from Berlin: “My stay will +certainly not be a long one; the King’s heart is like that of a brother +toward me, but our ways diverge. The die is cast, and he reads in my +countenance that I deplore the throw. He too fulfills his fate, and we +with him.” + +When, at last, in 1847, a Constitution was granted by the King, it was too +late. Sir Robert Peel seems to have been hopeful, and in a letter of +twenty-two pages to Bunsen he expressed an opinion that the Prussian +government might still be able to maintain the Constitution if only +sincere in desiring its due development, and prepared in mind for that +development. To the King, however, and to the party at court, the +Constitution, if not actually hateful, was a mere plaything, and the idea +of surrendering one particle of his independence never entered the King’s +mind. Besides, 1848 was at the door, and Bunsen certainly saw the coming +storm from a distance, though he could not succeed in opening the eyes of +those who stood at the helm in Prussia. Shortly before the hurricane broke +loose, Bunsen had once more determined to throw up his official position, +and retire to Bonn. But with 1848 all these hopes and plans were scattered +to the winds. Bunsen’s life became more restless than ever, and his body +was gradually giving way under the constant tension of his mind. “I feel,” +he writes in 1848 to Archdeacon Hare, “that I have entered into a new +period of life. I have given up all private concerns, all studies and +researches of my own, and live entirely for the present political +emergencies of my country, to stand or to fall by and with it.” + +With his love for England he deeply felt the want of sympathy on the part +of England for Prussia in her struggle to unite and regenerate the whole +of Germany. “It is quite entertaining,” he writes, with a touch of irony +very unusual in his letters, “to see the stiff unbelief of the English in +the future of Germany. Lord John is merely uninformed. Peel has somewhat +staggered the mind of the excellent Prince by his unbelief; yet he has a +statesmanlike good-will towards the _Germanic_ nations, and even for the +_German_ nation. Aberdeen is the greatest sinner. He believes in God and +the Emperor Nicholas!” The Schleswig-Holstein question embittered his +feelings still more; and in absence of all determined convictions at +Berlin, the want of moral courage and political faith among those in whose +hands the destinies of Germany had been placed, roused him to wrath and +fury, though he could never be driven to despair of the future of Prussia. +For a time, indeed, he seemed to hesitate between Frankfort, then the seat +of the German Parliament, and Berlin; and he would have accepted the +Premiership at Frankfort if his friend Baron Stockmar had accepted the +Ministry of Foreign Affairs. But very soon he perceived that, however +paralyzed for the moment, Prussia was the only possible centre of life for +a regeneration of Germany; that Prussia could not be merged in Germany, +but that Germany had to be resuscitated and reinvigorated through Prussia. +His patriotic nominalism, if we may so call his youthful dreams of a +united Germany, had to yield to the force of that political realism which +sacrifices names to things, poetry to prose, the ideal to the possible. +What made his decision easier than it would otherwise have been to a heart +so full of enthusiasm was his personal attachment to the King and to the +Prince of Prussia. For a time, indeed, though for a short time only, +Bunsen, after his interview with the King in January, 1849, believed that +his hopes might still be realized, and he seems actually to have had the +King’s promise that he would accept the crown of a United Germany, without +Austria. But as soon as Bunsen had left Berlin, new influences began to +work on the King’s brain; and when Bunsen returned, full of hope, he was +told by the King himself that he had never repented in such a degree of +any step as that which Bunsen had advised him to take; that the course +entered upon was a wrong to Austria; that he would have nothing to do with +such an abominable line of politics, but would leave that to the Ministry +at Frankfort. Whenever the personal question should be addressed to him, +then would he reply as one of the Hohenzollern, and thus live and die as +an honest man. Bunsen, though mourning over the disappointed hopes that +had once centred in Frederick William IV., and freely expressing the +divergence of opinion that separated him from his sovereign, remained +throughout a faithful servant and a loyal friend. His buoyant spirit, +confident that nothing could ruin Prussia, was looking forward to the +future, undismayed by the unbroken succession of blunders and failures of +Prussian statesmen,—nay, enjoying with a prophetic fervor, at the time of +the deepest degradation of Prussia at Olmütz, the final and inevitable +triumph of that cause which counted among its heroes and martyrs such +names as Stein, Gneisenau, Niebuhr, Arndt, and, we may now add, Bunsen. + +After the reaction of 1849 Bunsen’s political influence ceased altogether, +and as Minister in England he had almost always to carry out instructions +of which he disapproved. More and more he longed for rest and freedom, for +“leisure for reflection on the Divine which subsists in things human, and +for writing, if God enables me to do so. I live as one lamed; the pinions +that might have furthered my progress are bound,—yet not broken.” Yet he +would not give up his place as long as his enemies at Berlin did all they +could to oust him. He would not be beaten by them, nor did he altogether +despair of better days. His opinion of the Prince of Prussia (the present +King) had been raised very high since he had come to know him more +intimately, and he expected much in the hour of need from his soldier-like +decision and sense of honor. The negotiations about the Schleswig-Holstein +question soon roused again all his German sympathies, and he exerted +himself to the utmost to defend the just cause of the +Schleswig-Holsteiners, which had been so shamefully misrepresented by +unscrupulous partisans. The history of these negotiations cannot yet be +written, but it will some day surprise the student of history when he +finds out in what way public opinion in England was dosed and stupefied on +that simple question. He found himself isolated and opposed by nearly all +his English friends. One statesman only, but the greatest of English +statesmen, saw clearly where the right and where the wrong was, but even +he could only dare to be silent. On the 31st of July, 1850, Bunsen +writes:— + + + “Palmerston had yielded, when in a scrape, first to Russia, then + to France; the prize has been the protocol; the victim, Germany. + They shall never have my signature to such a piece of iniquity and + folly.” + + +However, on the 8th of May, 1852, Bunsen had to sign that very piece of +iniquity. It was done, machine like, at the King’s command; yet, if Bunsen +had followed his own better judgment, he would not have signed, but sent +in his resignation. “The first cannon-shot in Europe,” he used to say, +“will tear this Pragmatic Sanction to tatters;” and so it was; but alas! +he did not live to see the Nemesis of that iniquity. One thing, however, +is certain, that the humiliation inflicted on Prussia by that protocol was +never forgotten by one brave soldier, who, though not allowed at that time +to draw his royal sword, has ever since been working at the reform of +Prussia’s army, till on the field of Sadowa the disgrace of the London +protocol and the disgrace of Olmütz were wiped out together, and German +questions can no longer be settled by the Great Powers of Europe, “with or +without the consent of Prussia.” + +Bunsen remained in England two years longer, full of literary work, +delighted by the success of Prince Albert’s Great Exhibition, entering +heartily into all that interested and agitated English society, but +nevertheless carrying in his breast a heavy heart. Prussia and Germany +were not what he wished them to be. At last the complications that led to +the Crimean War held out to his mind a last prospect of rescuing Prussia +from her Russian thralldom. If Prussia could have been brought over to +join England and France, the unity of Northern Germany might have been her +reward, as the unity of Italy was the reward of Cavour’s alliance with the +Western Powers. Bunsen used all his influence to bring this about, but he +used it in vain, and in April, 1854, he succumbed, and his resignation was +accepted. + +Now, at last, Bunsen was free. He writes to a son:— + + + “You know how I struggled, almost desperately, to retire from + public employment in 1850. Now the cord is broken, and the bird is + free. The Lord be praised!” + + +But sixty-two years of his life were gone. The foundations of literary +work which he had laid as a young man were difficult to recover; and if +anything was to be finished, it had to be finished in haste. Bunsen +retired to Heidelberg, hoping there to realize the ideal of his life, and +realizing it, too, in a certain degree,—_i.e._ as long as he was able to +forget his sixty-two years, his shaken health, and his blasted hopes. His +new edition of “Hippolytus,” under the title of “Christianity and +Mankind,” had been finished in seven volumes before he left England. At +Heidelberg his principal work was the new translation of the Bible, and +his “Life of Christ,” an enormous undertaking, enough to fill a man’s +life, yet with Bunsen by no means the only work to which he devoted his +remaining powers. Egyptian studies continued to interest him while +superintending the English translation of his “Egypt.” His anger at the +machinations of the Jesuits in Church and State would rouse him suddenly +to address the German nation in his “Signs of the Times.” And the prayer +of his early youth, “to be allowed to recognize and trace the firm path of +God through the stream of ages,” was fulfilled in his last work, “God in +History.” There were many blessings in his life at Heidelberg, and no one +could have acknowledged them more gratefully than Bunsen. “Yet,” he +writes,— + + + “I miss John Bull, the sea, ‘The Times’ in the morning, and, + besides, some dozens of fellow-creatures. The learned class has + greatly sunk in Germany, more than I supposed; all behindhand.... + Nothing appears of any importance; the most wretched trifles are + cried up.” + + +Though he had bid adieu to politics, yet he could not keep entirely aloof. +The Prince of Prussia and the noble Princess of Prussia consulted him +frequently, and even from Berlin baits were held out from time to time to +catch the escaped eagle. Indeed, once again was Bunsen enticed by the +voice of the charmer, and a pressing invitation of the King brought him to +Berlin to preside at the meeting of the Evangelical Alliance in September, +1857. His hopes revived once more, and his plans of a liberal policy in +Church and State were once more pressed on the King,—in vain, as every one +knew beforehand, except Bunsen alone, with his loving, trusting heart. +However, Bunsen’s hopes, too, were soon to be destroyed, and he parted +from the King, the broken idol of all his youthful dreams,—not in anger, +but in love, “as I wish and pray to depart from this earth, as on the +calm, still evening of a long, beautiful summer’s day.” This was written +on the 1st of October; on the 3d the King’s mind gave way, though his +bodily suffering lasted longer than that of Bunsen. Little more is to be +said of the last years of Bunsen’s life. The difficulty of breathing, from +which he suffered, became often very distressing, and he was obliged to +seek relief by travel in Switzerland, or by spending the winter at Cannes. +He recovered from time to time, so as to be able to work hard at the +“Biblework,” and even to make short excursions to Paris or Berlin. In the +last year of his life he executed the plan that had passed before his mind +as the fairest dream of his youth: he took a house at Bonn, and he was not +without hope that he might still, like Niebuhr, lecture in the university, +and give to the young men the fruits of his studies and the advice founded +on the experience of his life. This, however, was not to be, and all who +watched him with loving eyes knew but too well that it could not be. The +last chapter of his life is painful beyond expression as a chronicle of +his bodily sufferings, but it is cheerful also beyond expression as the +record of a triumph over death in hope, in faith,—nay, one might almost +say, in sight,—such as has seldom been witnessed by human eyes. He died on +the 28th of November, 1860, and was buried on the 1st of December in the +same churchyard at Bonn where rests the body of his friend and teacher, +Niebuhr. + +Thoughts crowd in thick upon us when we gaze at that monument, and feel +again the presence of that spirit as we so often felt it in the hours of +sweet counsel. When we think of the literary works in which, later in life +and almost in the presence of death, he hurriedly gathered up the results +of his studies and meditations, we feel, as he felt himself when only +twenty-two years of age, that “learning annihilates itself, and the most +perfect is the first submerged, for the next age scales with ease the +height which cost the preceding the full vigor of life.” It has been so, +and always will be so. Bunsen’s work, particularly in Egyptian philology +and in the philosophy of language, was to a great extent the work of a +pioneer, and it will be easy for others to advance on the roads which he +has opened, and to approach nearer to the goal which he has pointed out. +Some of his works, however, will hold their place in the history of +scholarship, and particularly of theological scholarship. The question of +the genuineness of the original Epistles of Ignatius can hardly be opened +again after Bunsen’s treatise; and his discovery that the book on “All the +Heresies,” ascribed to Origen, could not be the work of that writer, and +that most probably it was the work of Hippolytus, will always mark an +epoch in the study of early Christian literature. Either of those works +would have been enough to make the reputation of a German professor, or to +found the fortune of an English bishop. Let it be remembered that they +were the outcome of the leisure hours of a hard-worked Prussian +diplomatist, who, during the London season, could get up at five in the +morning, light his own fire, and thus secure four hours of undisturbed +work before breakfast. + +Another reason why some of Bunsen’s works will prove more mortal than +others is their comprehensive character. Bunsen never worked for work’s +sake, but always for some higher purpose. Special researches with him were +a means, a ladder to be thrown away as soon as he had reached his point. +The thought of exhibiting his ladders never entered his mind. +Occasionally, however, Bunsen would take a jump, and being bent on general +results, he would sometimes neglect the objections that were urged against +him. It has been easy, even during his life-time, to point out weak points +in his arguments, and scholars who have spent the whole of their lives on +one Greek classic have found no difficulty in showing to the world that +they know more of that particular author than Bunsen. But even those who +fully appreciate the real importance of Bunsen’s labors—labors that were +more like a shower of rain fertilizing large acres than like the +artificial irrigation which supports one greenhouse plant—will be first to +mourn over the precious time that was lost to the world by Bunsen’s +official avocations. If he could do what he did in his few hours of rest, +what would he have achieved if he had carried out the original plan of his +life! It is almost incredible that a man with his clear perception of his +calling in life, so fully expressed in his earliest letters, should have +allowed himself to be drawn away by the siren voice of diplomatic life. +His success, no doubt, was great at first, and the kindness shown him by +men like Niebuhr, the King, and the Crown Prince of Prussia was enough to +turn a head that sat on the strongest shoulders. It should be remembered, +too, that in Germany the diplomatic service has always had far greater +charms than in England, and that the higher members of that service enjoy +often the same political influence as members of the Cabinet. If we read +of the brilliant reception accorded to the young diplomatist during his +first stay at Berlin, the favors showered upon him by the old King, the +friendship offered him by the Crown Prince, his future King, the hopes of +usefulness in his own heart, and the encouragement given him by all his +friends, we shall be less surprised at his preferring, in the days of his +youth, the brilliant career of a diplomatist to the obscure lot of a +professor. And yet what would Bunsen have given later in life if he had +remained true to his first love! Again and again his better self bursts +forth in complaints about a wasted life, and again and again he is carried +along against his will. During his first stay in England he writes +(November 18, 1838):— + + + “I care no more about my external position than about the + mountains in the moon; I know God’s will will be done, in spite of + them all, and to my greatest benefit. What that is He alone knows. + Only one thing I think I see clearly. My whole life is without + sense and lasting use, if I squander it in affairs of the day, + brilliant and important as they may be.” + + +The longer he remained in that enchanted garden, the more difficult it +became to find a way out, even after he had discovered by sad experience +how little he was fitted for court life or even for public life in +Prussia. When he first appeared at the court of Berlin, he carried +everything by storm; but that very triumph was never forgiven him, and his +enemies were bent on “showing this young doctor his proper place.” Bunsen +had no idea how he was envied, for the lesson that success breeds envy is +one that men of real modesty seldom learn until it is too late. And he was +hated not only by chamberlains, but, as he discovered with deepest grief, +even by those whom he considered his truest friends, who had been working +in secret conclave to undermine his influence with his royal friend and +master. Whenever he returned to Berlin, later in life, he could not +breathe freely in the vitiated air of the court, and the wings of his soul +hung down lamed, if not broken. Bunsen was not a courtier. Away from +Berlin, among the ruins of Rome, and in the fresh air of English life, he +could speak to kings and princes as few men have spoken to them, and pour +out his inmost convictions before those whom he revered and loved. But at +Berlin, though he might have learnt to bow and to smile and to use +Byzantine phraseology, his voice faltered and was drowned by noisy +declaimers; the diamond was buried in a heap of beads, and his rays could +not shine forth where there was no heavenly sunlight to call them out. + +King Frederick William IV. was no ordinary King: that one can see even +from the scanty extracts from his letters given in “Bunsen’s Memoirs.” Nor +was his love of Bunsen a mere passing whim. He loved the man, and those +who knew the refreshing and satisfying influence of Bunsen’s society will +easily understand what the King meant when he said, “I am hungry and +thirsty for Bunsen.” But what constitution can resist the daily doses of +hyperbolical flattery that are poured into the ears of royalty, and how +can we wonder that at last a modest expression of genuine respect does +sound like rudeness to royal ears, and to speak the truth becomes +synonymous with insolence? In the trickeries and mimicries of court life +Bunsen was no adept, and nothing was easier than to outbid him in the +price that is paid for royal favors. But if much has thus been lost of a +life far too precious to be squandered among royal servants and +messengers, this prophet among the Sauls has taught the world some lessons +which he could not have taught in the lecture-room of a German university. +People who would scarcely have listened to the arguments of a German +professor sat humbly at the feet of an ambassador and of a man of the +world. That a professor should be learned, and that a bishop should be +orthodox, was a matter of course; but that an ambassador should hold forth +on hieroglyphics and the antiquity of man rather than on the _chronique +scandaleuse_ of Paris; that a Prussian statesman should spend his mornings +on the Ignatian Epistles rather than in writing gossiping letters to +ladies in waiting at Berlin and Potsdam; that this learned man “who ought +to know,” should profess the simple faith of a child and the boldest +freedom of a philosopher, was enough to startle society, both high and +low. How Bunsen inspired those who knew him with confidence, how he was +consulted, and how he was loved, may be seen from some of the letters +addressed to him, though few only of such letters have been published in +his “Memoirs.” That his influence was great in England we know from the +concurrent testimony both of his enemies and his friends, and the seed +that he has sown in the minds and hearts of men have borne fruit, and will +still bear richer fruit, both in England and in Germany. Nor should it be +forgotten how excellent a use he made of his personal influence in helping +young men who wanted advice and encouragement. His sympathy, his +condescension, his faith when brought in contact with men of promise, were +extraordinary: they were not shaken, though they have been abused more +than once. In all who loved Bunsen his spirit will live on, imperceptibly, +it may be, to themselves, imperceptibly to the world, but not the less +really. It is not the chief duty of friends to honor the departed by idle +grief, but to remember their designs, and to carry out their mandates. +(Tac. Ann. II. 71.) + +1868. + + + + +LETTERS FROM BUNSEN TO MAX MÜLLER IN THE YEARS 1848 TO 1859.(98) + + +After hesitating for a long time, and after consulting both those who had +a right to be consulted, and those whose independent judgment I could +trust, I have at last decided on publishing the following letters of Baron +Bunsen, as an appendix to my article on the Memoirs of his Life. They +will, I believe, show to the world one side of his character which in the +Memoirs could appear but incidentally,—his ardent love of the higher +studies from which his official duties were constantly tearing him away, +and his kindness, his sympathy, his condescension in his intercourse with +younger scholars who were pursuing different branches of that work to +which he himself would gladly have dedicated the whole energy of his mind. +Bunsen was by nature a scholar, though not exactly what in England is +meant by a German scholar. Scholarship with him was always a means, never +in itself an object; and the study of the languages, the laws, the +philosophies and religions of antiquity, was in his eyes but a necessary +preparation before approaching the problem of all problems, Is there a +Providence in the world, or is there not? “To trace the firm path of God +through the stream of ages,” this was the dream of his youth, and the toil +of his old age; and during all his life, whether he was studying the laws +of Rome or the hieroglyphic inscriptions of Egypt, the hymns of the Veda +or the Psalms of the Old Testament, he was always collecting materials for +that great temple which in his mind towered high above all other temples, +the temple of God in history. He was an architect, but he wanted builders; +his plans were settled, but there was no time to carry them out. He +therefore naturally looked out for younger men who were to take some share +of his work. He encouraged them, he helped them, he left them no rest till +the work which he wanted was done; and he thus exercised the most salutary +influence on a number of young scholars, both in Rome, in London, and in +Heidelberg. + +When I first came to know Bunsen, he was fifty-six, I twenty-four years of +age; he was Prussian ambassador, I was nobody. But from the very beginning +of our intercourse, he was to me like a friend and fellow-student; and +when standing by his side at the desk in his library, I never saw the +ambassador, but only the hard-working scholar, ready to guide, willing to +follow, but always pressing forward to a definite goal. He would patiently +listen to every objection, and enter readily into the most complicated +questions of minute critical scholarship; but he always wanted to see +daylight; he could not bear mere groping for groping’s sake. When he +suspected any scholar of shallowness, pettiness, or professorial conceit, +he would sometimes burst forth into rage, and use language the severity of +which he was himself the first to regret. But he would never presume on +his age, his position, or his authority. In that respect few men remained +so young, remained so entirely themselves through life as Bunsen. It is +one of the saddest experiences in life to see men lose themselves when +they become ministers or judges or bishops or professors. Bunsen never +became ambassador, he always remained Bunsen. It has been my good fortune +in life to have known many men whom the world calls great,—philosophers, +statesmen, scholars, artists, poets; but take it all in all, take the full +humanity of the man, I have never seen, and I shall never see his like +again. + +The rule followed in editing these letters has been a very simple one. I +have given them as they were, even though I felt that many could be of +interest to scholars only or to Bunsen’s personal friends; but I have left +out whatever could be supposed to wound the feelings of any one. Unless +this rule is most carefully observed, the publication of letters after the +death of their writers seems to me simply dishonorable. When Bunsen speaks +of public measures and public men, of parties in Church and State, whether +in England or in Germany, there was no necessity for suppressing his +remarks, for he had spoken his mind as freely on them elsewhere as in +these letters. But any personal reflections written on the spur of the +moment, in confidence or in jest, have been struck out, however strong the +temptation sometimes of leaving them. Many expressions, too, of his kind +feelings towards me have been omitted. If some have been left, I hope I +may be forgiven for a pride not altogether illegitimate. + + + +[1.] + + +LONDON, _Thursday, December 7_, 1848, 9 o’clock. + +MY DEAR M.,—I have this moment received your affectionate note of +yesterday, and feel as if I must respond to it directly, as one would +respond to a friend’s shake of the hand. The information was quite new to +me, and the success wholly unexpected. You have given a home to a friend +who was homeless in the world; may you also have inspired him with that +energy and stability, the want of which so evidently depresses him. The +idea about Pauli is excellent, but he must decide quickly and send me +word, that I may gain over William Hamilton, and his son (the President). +The place is much sought after; Pauli would certainly be the man for it. +He would not become a _Philister_ here, as most do. + +And now, my very dear M., I congratulate you on the courageous frame of +mind which this event causes you to evince. It is exactly that which, as a +friend, I wish for you for the whole of life, and which I perceived and +loved in you from the very first moment. It delights me especially at this +time, when _your_ contemporaries are even more dark and confused than +_mine_ are sluggish and old-fashioned. The reality of life, as we enter +the period of full manhood, destroys the first dream of youth; but with +moral earnestness, and genuine faith in eternal providence, and in the +sacredness of human destiny in that government of the world which exists +for all human souls that honestly seek after good,—with these feelings, +the dream of youth is more than realized. + +You have undertaken a great work, and have been rescued from the whirlpool +and landed on this peaceful island that you might carry it on undisturbed, +which you could not have done in the Fatherland. This is the first +consideration; but not less highly do I rate the circumstances which have +kept you here, and have given you an opportunity of seeing English life in +its real strength, with the consistency and stability, and with all the +energy and simplicity, that are its distinguishing features. I have known +what it is to receive this complement of German life in the years of my +training and apprenticeship. When rightly estimated, this knowledge and +love of the English element only strengthens the love of the German +Fatherland, the home of genius and poetry. + +I will only add that I am longing to see you amongst us: you must come to +us before long. Meanwhile think of me with as much affection as I shall +always think of you. Lepsius has sent me his splendid work “On the +Foundations of Egyptian Chronology,” with astounding investigations. + +As to Germany, my greatest hopes are based on this,—that the King and +Henry von Gagern have met and become real friends. + + + +[2.] + + +_Sunday Morning, February 18, 1849._ + +My dear M.,—Having returned home last night, I should like to see you +quietly to-day, before the turmoil begins again to-morrow. Can you and Mr. +Trithen come to me to-day at five o’clock? I will ask Elze to dinner, but +I should first like to read to you two my treatise “On the Classification +of Languages,” which is entirely rewritten, and has become my fifth book +_in nuce_. + +I will at once tell you that I am convinced that the Lycians were the +_true_ Pelasgians, and I shall not give you any rest till you have +discovered the Pelasgic language from the monuments existing here. It is a +sure discovery. It must be an older form of Greek, much as the Oscan or +the Carmen Saliare were of Latin, or even perhaps more so. + + + +[3.] + + +TOTTERIDGE PARK, _Monday Morning, February 19, 1849._ + +I landed yesterday, and took refuge here till this afternoon; and my first +employment is to thank you for your affectionate and faithful letter, and +to tell you that I am not only to be here as hitherto, but that, with the +permission of the King, I am to fill the post of confidential accredited +minister of the _Reichsverweser_, formerly held by Baron Andrian. During +my stay here, be it long or short, it will always be a pleasure and +refreshment to me to see you as often as you can come to us. You know our +way of living, which will remain the same, except now and then, when +Palmerston may fix his conferences for a Sunday. + +Pertz is quite ready to agree to the proposal of a regular completion of +the Chambers collection: the best thing would be for you to offer to make +the catalogue. He is waiting your proposal. The dark clouds of civil war +are lowering over our dear and mighty Fatherland. Prussia will go on its +own way quietly as a mediating power. + + + +[4.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _April 22, 1849_. + +Yesterday evening, and night, and this morning early, I have been reading +Froude’s “Nemesis of Faith,” and am so moved by it that I must write you a +few lines. I cannot describe the power of attraction exercised upon me by +this deeply searching, noble spirit: I feel the tragic nature of his +position, and long have I foreseen that such tragical combinations await +the souls of men in this island-world. Arnold and Carlyle, each in his own +way, had seen this long before me. In the general world, no one can +understand such a state of mind, except so far as to be enabled to +misconstrue it. + +In the shortcoming of the English mind in judging of this book, its great +alienation from the philosophy of Art is revealed. This book is not +comprehended as a work of Art, claiming as such due proportions and +relative significance of parts; otherwise many individuals would at least +have been moved to a more sparing judgment upon it, and in the first place +they would take in the import of the title. + +This book shows the fatal result of the renunciation of the Church system +of belief. The subject of the tale simply experiences moral annihilation; +but the object of his affection, whose mind he had been the means of +unsettling in her faith, burst through the boundaries which humanity has +placed, and the moral order of the world imposes: they perish both,—each +at odds with self, with God, and with human society: only for him there +yet remains room for further development. Then the curtain falls,—that is +right, according to artistic rule of composition; true and necessary +according to the views of those who hold the faith of the Church of +England; and from a theological point of view, no other solution could be +expected from the book than that which it has given. + +But here the author has disclosed the inward disease, the fearful +hollowness, the spiritual death, of the nation’s philosophical and +theological forms, with resistless eloquence; and like the Jews of old, +they will exclaim, “That man is a criminal! stone him!” + +I wish you could let him know how deeply I feel for him, without ever +having seen him; and how I desire to admonish him to accept and endure +this fatality, as, in the nature of things, he must surely have +anticipated it; and as he has pointed out and defended the freedom of the +spirit, so must he now (and I believe he will) show in himself, and make +manifest to the world, the courage, active in deed, cheerful in power, of +that free spirit. + +It is presumptuous to intrude into the fate and mystery of life in the +case of any man, and more especially of a man so remarkable; but the +consciousness of community of spirits, of knowing, and endeavoring after +what is morally good, and true, and perfect, and of the yearning after +every real disciple of the inner religion of Christians, impels me to +suggest to you to tell him from me, that I believe the spasm of his +spiritual efforts would sooner be calmed, and the solution of the great +problem would sooner be found, if he were to live for a time among _us_; I +mean, if he resided for a time in one of the German universities. We +Germans have been for seventy years working as thinkers, inquirers, poets, +seers, also as men of action, to pull down the old and to erect the new +Zion; each great man with us has contributed his materials towards the +sanctuary, invisible, but firmly fixed in German hearts; the whole nation +has neglected and sacrificed political, individual existence and common +freedom—to pursue in faith the search after truth. From us something may +be learnt, by every spirit of this age. He will experience how truly the +divine Plato spoke, when he said, “Seven years of silent inquiry were +needful for a man to learn the truth, but fourteen in order to learn how +to make it known to his fellow-men.” + +Froude must know Schleiermacher’s “Discourses on Religion,” and perhaps +also his “Dogmatics.” In this series of developments this is perhaps, as +far as the form is concerned, the most satisfactory work which immediately +concerns religion and its reconciliation with philosophy on the basis of +more liberal Christian investigation. But at all events we have not +striven and suffered in vain: our philosophy, research, and poetry show +this. But men, not books, are needed by such a mind, in order to become +conscious of the truth, which (to quote Spinoza) “remoto errore nuda +remanet.” He has still much to learn, and he should learn it as a man from +man. I should like to propose to him first to go to Bonn. He would there +find that most deeply thoughtful and most original of speculative minds +among our living theologians, the Hamann of this century, my dear friend +R. Rothe; also a noble philosopher and teacher of ethics, Brandis; an +honest master of exegesis, Bleek; and young minds would soon attach +themselves to him. In Halle he would find Erdmann, almost the only +distinguished speculative follower of Hegel, and Tholuck, who has advanced +much farther in the philosophical treatment of Christianity than is +generally thought. I will gladly give him introductions to all of these. +They would all willingly admit him into their world of thought, and enter +with sympathy into his. It would be sure to suit him.... The free +atmosphere of thought would do him good, as formerly the atmosphere of +free England was good for Germans still struggling for political liberty. +He certainly needs physical change and invigorating. For this the lovely +Rhine is decidedly to be recommended. With £100 he could live there as a +prince. Why go off to Van Diemen’s Land? I should always be glad to be of +the least service to him, still more to make his personal acquaintance. +And now, my dear M., you can, if you wish, read out to him what I have +written, but do not give the letter out of your own hands. + + + +[5.] + + +9 CARLTON TERRACE, _Monday, May 22, 1849._ + +I thank you for two letters. I cannot tell how the first delighted and +rejoiced me. The state of things in England is really as you describe it. +As to what concerns the second, you will by this time know that I have +seen Froude twice. With M., too, personal acquaintance has been made, and +the point as to money is touched on. I must see him again alone before I +give my opinion. At all events, he is a man of genius, and Germany +(especially Bonn) the country for him. + +I can well imagine the terrible scenes your dear mother has witnessed in +Dresden. However, I believe we have, in the very midst of the storm, +reached the harbor. Even in Frankfort every one believes in the complete +success of Prussia’s negotiations with the four Courts. We shall have the +whole constitution of the empire, and now with all necessary improvements. +As to matters of form, they must be arranged as between equals. Gagern and +his friends are ready for this. The constitution is to be declared at +Berlin on the 25th. The disturbances will then be quieted as by magic. +George is _aux anges_ over this unexpected turn of affairs. At all events +I hope soon to see you. + + + +[6]. + + +LONDON, _Wednesday, July 14, 1849._ + +“Hurrah for Müller!”—so writes George, and as an answer I send you his +note from Frankfort. Hekscher’s proposal is quite reasonable. I have since +then broken off all negotiations with the Danes. You will soon read the +documents in the newspapers. + +If the proposal of the parliamentary committee on the directory of the +Bund passes, which admits of little doubt, the question of to be or not to +be must be immediately decided. + +I do not intend going to Frankfort for this, so pray come here; I am alone +here with Charles. + + + +[7.] + + +9 CARLTON TERRACE, _Friday Morning_.(99) + +MY DEAR M.,—I did not thank you immediately for your delightful and +instructive letter, because there were many points on which I wished to +write fully. The last decisive crisis of the German-European business has +at length arrived, and I have had the opportunity of doing my duty in the +matter. But I have been doing nothing else since last Saturday, nothing +Chinese even. I recommend the inclosed to you. The young man is a good and +highly informed German bookseller. He has of course written just what I +did not tell him, and omitted what he ought to have said, “that he had +been here for five years with the first booksellers, and before that was +trained under his father in Bonn; that he understands English, German, +French, Italian, and Spanish.” I have only heard what is good of him. How +grateful I feel to you for having begun the Index of Egyptian words at +once! We wanted one here for a special purpose, so our trouble has not +been thrown away. I now perceive how impossible it is to understand the +Egyptian language and history thoroughly without Chinese. In the +chronology there is still much to be done. + +We have as yet held our own in London and Warsaw as against Vienna. But in +the Schleswig-Holstein question we have the whole world, and unfortunately +our own peace of July 2d, against us. Radowitz has worked most devotedly +and honestly. When shall we see you again? + + + +[8.] + + +PRUSSIAN LEGATION, _May 15, 1850._ + +By return of post thanks and greetings to my dear M. Your proposal as to +Schütz is excellent. Let me know if I am to write to Humboldt. I draw a +totally different lesson from your news of the loss of the Veda MS. Wait +till a good copy arrives, and in the mean time pursue your philological +studies in some other direction, and get on with your Introduction. You +can work more in one day in Europe than in a week in India, unless you +wish to kill yourself, which I could not allow. So come with bag and +baggage here, to 9 Carlton Terrace, to one who longs to see you. + +F. must have gone mad, or have been far more so politically than I +imagined. The “Leader,” edited by him and N., is (as Mills says) _red and +raw!_ and, in addition, badly written. It is a pity for prophets and poets +to meddle with realities, instead of devoting themselves to futurity and +poetry. George is happy in the intellectual wealth of Paris life, and +quite perplexed at the perverseness and follies of the political cliques. +He promises to write about the acquaintance of Lamenais and George Sand. I +am well, but fully use the right of a convalescent, and hardly go +anywhere. + +Friend Stockmar sends a report from Erfurt, where the Parliament meets on +the 26th to receive the oaths of the Directory and the Ministers of the +Union. Usedom, Pertz, and Co. are quite mad in their enthusiasm for the +Black and White, as I have openly written to them. + + + +[9.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _July 10, 1850._ + +Mr. Eastwick, the translator of Bopp’s Grammar, tells me that he and +Murray wish for an article on this work in the “Quarterly Review” for +January, 1851; so it must be sent in in November. Wilson refuses, as he is +too busy. I believe you could best write such a review, of about sixteen +pages (£16). If you agree to this, write a line to me or direct to +Eastwick, who would then get a letter from Lockhart with the commission +for you. God help Schleswig-Holstein! + + + +[10.] + + +LONDON, _October 10, 1850._ + +You have given me the greatest pleasure, my dear M., by your beautiful +present. Already, last night, I read the new “Greek Songs,” and others +that were new to me, with the greatest delight. We have, at all events, +derived one benefit from the great storm,—that the fetters have been taken +off the press. It is a very charming edition, and a beautiful memorial. + +As to F——, it seems to me _contra rei naturam_ to arrange anything with +the “Quarterly Review.” The channel for such things is now really the +“Edinburgh;” in the “Quarterly” everything not English must be run down, +at all events in appearance, if it is to be appreciated. And now “Modern +German Poetry and F——,” and Liberal politics! I cannot understand how F—— +could think of such a thing. I will willingly take charge of it for the +“Edinburgh Review.” The editor is my political, theological, personal +friend, and sympathizes with me in such things as I consider F——’s +beautiful review will be. I have for years wished for such a one; +epic-lyric poetry has made much greater advances since Goethe’s time than +people in Germany (with the one exception of Platen) seem to perceive. It +seems to me, though, that one should begin with the flowers of the +Romantic school of poetry, with Schenkendorf and Körner,—that is, with the +whole romantic German national epoch, which found Goethe already a retired +philosopher. The whole development, from that time till now, appears to me +as one intimately united whole, even including the present day. Even 1848 +to 1850 have furnished their contribution (Arndt’s two inspired songs, for +instance); and in 1843-44, Geibel shines as a star of the first magnitude. +Heine is difficult to treat. In fact, I do not think that F—— has read +enough of these poets. He spoke to me lately of an historical work that he +had in view, and which he wished to talk over with me; he meant to come up +to me from the country, but has not yet appeared. He is always welcome, +for he is decidedly a man of genius, and I would willingly help him. + +Now to something different. My Chinese work is tolerably far advanced. I +have arranged the 214 keys alphabetically, and have examined about 100 of +them historically—that is, I have separated the oldest (entirely +hieroglyphic and ideographic) signs, and as far as possible fixed the +relationship of identical or similarly sounding roots. Then I laid aside +the work, and first began a complete list of all those pronominal, +adverbial, and particle stems, arranged first alphabetically and then +according to matter, in which I found the recognizable corpses of the +oldest Chinese words. The result repays me even far more than I expected. +I hope to have finished both works before Christmas; and at last, too, the +alphabetical examination of the 450 words (of which about 150 are hidden +in the 214 keys; the 64 others are similarly sounding roots). Naturally +all this is only in reference to ancient Chinese, which is at least as +different (grammatically) from modern Chinese as Egyptian is from Coptic. + +At the same time, I am reading the translation of the three “Kings,” and +transliterate some passages. And now I must ask you to examine the +inclosed system of transliteration. I have devised it according to my best +powers after yours and Lepsius’ system. Secondly, I want you to tell me +whether I ought to buy the Leipzig translation of Eichhoff’s “Parallèle +des Langues Sanscrites.” My own copy of the French edition has +disappeared. Pauli works at an Index of the Egyptian hieroglyphics and +words, which I can send you by and by. + +“The days and times are hard,” says an old song. + + + +[10.] + + +TOTTERIDGE PARK, _Tuesday Morning, October 16, 1850._ + +MY DEAR FRIEND,—So it seems that I am really not to see you this time. I +am truly sorry, and count all the more on your calling on your return, if +I am still in England. I should like to have thanked you at once for your +affectionate letter for my birthday. But you know, if you altogether trust +me, that a lifelong love for you lies deep in my heart. + +I had expected more from the great programme of New Oxford. It is not, +however, much more unsatisfactory than the article on Plato, the writer of +which now avows himself. It is only possible to excuse the milk-and-watery +treatment of the subject through the general mental cowardice and +ignorance in intellectual matters which is so predominant in this country. +I find a comfort in the hope that this article is the prologue to able +exegetical works, combined with a concrete statement of the absurdity, the +untruth, and untenableness of the present English conception of +inspiration. Do not call me to account too sharply for this hope, or it is +likely to evaporate simply in pious wishes. Moral earnestness is the only +thing that pleases me in this matter; the important thing now is to prove +it, in opposition to invincible prejudices. Your plan of publishing your +Introduction after you have talked it over with Lassen and Burnouf, and +drawn in fresh breath, and just in January too, pleases me very much. If I +may, all in the dark, give you some good advice, try to make yourself +clear on two points. First, as to the proper limits of language for the +investigation of past and prehistoric times. As yet, no one has known how +to handle these gigantic materials; what Jacob Grimm has lately attempted +with them is child’s play. It is no longer of any use, as a Titan in +intention, but confused as to aim, and uncertain in method,—it is no +longer of any use to put down dazzling examples which demonstrate nothing, +or at most only that something ought to be there to be demonstrated. What +you have told me entitles one to the highest hopes; and these will be +realized, if you in the French, not the Teutonic manner, arrive at full +understanding of what is at present a mere instinctive intuition, and thus +arrive at the right method. You can do it. Only I have some anxiety as to +the second point, the historical proofs of the beginnings of nations. That +is the weak side, first of all etymologists and word-masters, and then +especially of all “Indologues,” and of the whole Indian past itself. There +is an enormous difference between what _can_ have been, nay, according to +certain abstract theoretic views _must_ have been, and what _has_ been. +That, however, is the distinctive problem for historical investigation. +And here, above all, much depends on philological knowledge and sagacity; +but still more on that historical tact which understands how inferences +should be drawn. This demands much acquaintance with what is real, and +with purely historical material; much practice, and, as regards character, +much self-denial. In this _judicium subactum_ of the historian lies the +difference between Niebuhr and O. Müller. To satisfy these demands, it is +only necessary, with your gifts and your character, that you should wish +to do so earnestly, and perseveringly wish it. Of course you will not +separate the inquiry as to the oldest seat of the Sanskrit language from +the surrounding problems. I am perhaps too strongly prejudiced against the +idea that the family of which we are speaking must have wandered from the +banks of the Upper Indus towards Bactria, and from thence founded Media +and Persia. But I have for the present good grounds for this, and views +which have long been tested by me. I can well imagine a migration of this +family to and fro from the northern to the southern slopes of the +Hindu-Kush and back again; in Egypt one sees most plainly how the Semitic, +or the family which inclines towards Semitism, migrated frequently from +the Mediterranean and the Euphrates to the Red Sea and _back again_. But +this alters nothing in the theory, on the one hand, that it is one and the +same family historically, and, on the other hand, that it is not +originally African, but Asiatic. You will certainly not adopt Niebuhr’s +autochthonic theory, where such facts lie before you. But enough. Only +receive these remarks as a proof of my lively interest in your researches, +and in yourself; and may Minerva be your guide. I rejoice in the prize you +have gained at the French Academy in Paris, both for you and the +Fatherland. + +The King _has_ subscribed for twenty copies of your Veda, and you have +received 500 thalers of it beforehand. The rest you will receive, +according to the agreement then made, and which was communicated to you, +as certainly _after_ the revolution and constitution as _before_. I +_cannot_ have said a word with any other meaning. I may have recommended +you not to demand future prepayment: there might have been difficulties. +Examine, then, the communication made to you, take twenty copies of your +first volume in your pocket, or rather in the ship, and hand them in, +writing in any case to Humboldt, and beside him to the minister concerned, +therefore to the Minister of Public Instruction. As to what concerns the +King personally, ask Humboldt what you have to do. The thing itself is as +clear and settled a matter of business as anything can well be; on this +very account I have completely forgotten the particulars. + +And now, God bless you, my dear friend. Greet all friendly minds and +souls, and first, “though I have not the pleasure of her acquaintance,” +your mother; and then Humboldt and Lepsius before any one else. + + + +[12.] + + +LONDON, _November_ 4, 1850. + +I must tell you by return of post that your letter has frightened me by +what you tell me respecting your strong impulse to go to Benares or to +Bonn. This is the very worst moment for Bonn, and the very best for your +publication of the Introduction to the Vedas. The crisis in our country +disturbs everything; it will soon be over, and, as I have good reason to +believe, without dishonor or bloodshed. They would do everything to make +your stay in Bonn pleasant, as soon as they have recovered breath. Still, +you must print that English book in England; and I should add, before you +settle across the Channel. Or do you only intend to pay Lassen a visit? +You knew that some time ago Lassen longed to see you, more than any other +man. It would be a good idea if you settle to make an excursion to +Germany. You are one of those who always arrange things best personally. +At all events, you must come to us the day after to-morrow, and stay till +the 9th. We shall have a house full of visitors that day (evening), but +till then be quite alone. On the 7th you will give your presence to George +as a birthday gift, a proof of great affection. Of Froude I have heard and +seen nothing. + +Empson has been here twice, without leaving his address. I have advanced +as far in the astronomy and chronology of the Chinese as I can without an +astronomer. _They have begun with the beginning of the Chaldeans._ With +the language, too, I have reached firm soil and ground, through the 120 +words which become particles. More by word of mouth. + +The struggle is over. Open conferences will be held at Vienna, where +Prussia will represent and securely maintain the principle of free +opinion. + +The 8,000 Bavarians will return home again. The new constitution of the +Bund will include all Austria (except Italy), and will have a diet which +has no legislative power in internal German affairs. Will Radowitz stay? +Send a line in answer. + + + +[13.] + + +LONDON, _December 11, 1850._ + +In spite of the courier, who goes to-day, I must write a few words in +answer to your friendly inquiries. + +I am more and more convinced that you stake _everything_ if you begin the +important affair in Bonn without going there yourself; and on the other +hand, that the business _cannot_ fail _if_ you go there; _lastly_, that +you should go there at once, that Lassen and the government may not hit on +something else. Once begun, the thing will, I hope, go exactly as you +wish. But I should be _very_ sorry if you were to leave Oxford before +finishing the printing of the Introduction. That is your farewell to +England, your greeting to the professoriate in Germany, both worthy and +suited to you. + +The Lectures at Oxford appear, by the side of this, as a secondary +consideration. I cannot, however, restrain the wish that you should not +refuse the thing. It is not expected that a deputy-professor should spend +more time than is necessary on the charge committed to him. I should think +you could arrange such a course very pleasantly, and feel certain of +success, if you only bear in mind Lockhart’s advice, to write as for +ladies,—“Spartam quam nactus es orna,” as Niebuhr always told me, and I +have always found it a good maxim. I await the sending in of your article +for the “Edinburgh,” in order to make all preparations at once. I hope you +will be back from Bonn by Christmas Eve, or else wait till after Christmas +before you go. + +As a friend of many years’ standing, you will forgive me if I say that if +the journey to Bonn is not financially convenient to you just now, I +_depend_ upon your thinking of _me_. + + + +[14.] + + +9 CARLTON TERRACE, _January 2, 1851_. + +Most heartily do I wish you success and happiness in the new year. Stanley +will have told you of our negotiations as to your beautiful article. He +will have laid before you the sketch of a genuine English prologue and +epilogue promised by him, and for which I gave him a few ideas. You can +then choose between the “Quarterly” and “Edinburgh Review.” + +Pertz has authorized me to pay you £20 on the 1st of January, as you +wished. So send your receipt, that I may at once send you the £20 (in four +bank-notes), unless you will fetch them yourself. If you can be here on +Monday, you are invited to dinner with Macaulay, Mahon, and General +Radowitz, otherwise any other day. + +P. S. (Wednesday). No, my dear M., I will not send your article, but take +it myself. Let me have it soon. + + + +[15.] + + +LONDON, _March 13, 1851_. + +It is such a delight to be able at last to write to you, to tell you that +few events this year have given me such great pleasure as your noble +success in Oxford. The English have shown how gladly they will listen to +something good and new, if any one will lay it before them in their own +halls and in their “gown.” Morier has faithfully reported everything, and +my whole family sympathize in your triumph, as if it concerned ourselves. + +I have heard from Empson that he will let your article appear in the third +quarter (1st July). All space for the 1st of April had been promised since +December. He will have it printed very early, that we may have time to +read it comfortably, and see if it really wants a “head and tail.” He +seems to think it is _not_ wanted. So much the better, I answered him. + +George writes diligently, _De Nili fontibus_, and revels in the scientific +life of Bonn. He is coming at Easter for four weeks, and intends +immediately after Whitsuntide to take his degree _cum honore_. + +You have seen that Lachmann was obliged to have his foot amputated, as it +was mortifying. The operation was very well performed; but the question +is, whether the evil may not still spread. Haupt writes in great anxiety; +he hurried off to his friend, to nurse him. + +Theodore comes as early as the 7th of April, and goes to the University +after Easter. + +We have all had something of influenza, but not so that we were obliged to +give up our _Tuesday evenings_, which are very well attended, as many as +300 people, who amuse themselves and us well. When are you coming to us? + +I have come to the end of the third volume, in working over “Egypt,” and +have already besides a third of the fourth volume ready for press. By the +1st of May the fourth volume must be sent to Gotha. + + + +[16.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _Tuesday Morning, May 13, 1851_, 7 o’clock. + +(_Olymp._ I. I. I.) according to new German Chronology. See tables for +“Egypt.” + +I must at last take my early morning hour to write to you, instead of +writing, or rather preparing, a chapter of my fifth volume. For I find the +flood of business which begins with breakfast subsides now only after +midnight, and I have many things I must say to you. First, my thanks and +good wishes for the sketch of your lectures. You have rightly understood +the importance of epic poetry in its historical bearing, and for _the __ +first time_ connected it with the earliest times of the epic nations, +namely, the primitive period of their community of language. + +This has given me indescribable pleasure, and daily roused a longing to +see you again very soon, and to read to you some chapters out of my fifth +volume, the writing of which has continued to be an excessive delight to +me. I have attempted the restoration of the times of the patriarchs, in +the full belief in their real existence and in my own method, and have +been surprised at the great results. After I had finished this section I +felt inspirited to add the Introduction to the Preface, written at Easter, +“The History and Method of the Philosophy of History,” and then, as by a +stroke of magic, I found myself again in the lost Paradise of the deepest +philosophical and historical convictions of all my life, on the strength +of which I consecrated my dim anticipations to definite vows in the holy +vigils of 1810-13, and wrote them down in the last weeks of my German life +(January, 1816) in Berlin in order to explain myself to Niebuhr. The +little book which I then wrote comes back again, after the lapse of quite +thirty-five years, into my thoughts. The journey to India has turned out a +journey to Egypt, and the journey of life hastens towards its close. But +though I, since 1816, never found the means and opportunity to fix my eyes +on the first youthful ideal, after I had dedicated my life to investigate, +to think, and to live for it; and though all the grand and elevated views +had been hidden from me in the narrow valleys of life and of special +research, except some blessed moments of intuition, I am now again raised +by the flood of Egyptian research, after a quarter of a century, on to the +heights of the same Ararat from whence, in the battle of life, I had to +descend. I only wished to give an introductory survey of the manner of +treating the world’s history, and to my astonishment something else +appears, to which I yield myself with fear as well as delight, with the +old youthful ardor. I believe I owe something of my good fortune this time +also to my enemies and enviers. For it is quite true, as the newspaper +said, that my removal or recall was demanded from the King, not only by +our Camarilla and its tool, the ministry, but by more than “flesh and +blood,” that high demoniacal power, which would willingly crush Prussia +and Germany in its unholy embrace. It has come to an avowed struggle. As +yet the King has held fast to me as king and friend. Such attacks always +fill me with courageous indignation and indignant courage, and God has +graciously filled my heart with this courage ever since I, on the day of +the news of our complete defeat (November 10), determined to finish +“Egypt.” Never, since I projected the five books on Egypt, when besieged +on the Capitol by the Pope and his followers, and abandoned by the +ministry at Berlin, from January 6th till Easter Sunday, 1838,—never have +I worked with such success. Even the Great Exhibition and the visit of the +Prince and Princess of Prussia have not hindered me. Volume IV. was +finished on Sunday evening, April 27; and Tuesday morning, the 29th, I +wrote at Dover the first chapter of the “Traditions of Prehistoric Times,” +after Easter Sunday had presented me with the above-mentioned Preface. On +the 27th of May all that is entailed by the Prince’s visit ceases again on +the beach at Dover, and on the 1st June I hope to be able to begin with +the “Methodology.” I have now arrived at Leibnitz in the historical +survey, which is to close with Schelling and Hegel, Goethe and Schiller, +and which began with Abraham. Don’t be frightened, it will please you. + +But now, if Oxford and the gods of the Veda allow it, you should come +here. George will, before he returns to Bonn, sail up the waters of the +Nile with me; he has written the first sketch of the dissertation, and can +get through everything in Bonn in six weeks; I believe he returns at the +end of the first week. + +Think this over. I do so wish for him to see you before he leaves. +Meanwhile I may tell you, _sub rosa_, that on Saturday morning he, with +Colonel Fischer and the charming Prince Friedrich Wilhelm, will go to +Oxford from Birmingham (12 o’clock), and, in strictest _incognito_, show +the Benares of Europe to the future King of Prussia, who is enthusiastic +about England. He will write to you beforehand; he is now asleep, resting +himself, after running about all day yesterday with the Prince, and +staying at a ball till morning. + +But enough of the outpourings of my heart. I hasten to business. + +First, Empson has sent me the proof-sheets of your article. I mean your +article for the “Edinburgh Review.” Early this morning I read it through +at last, and joyfully and heartily utter my _Macte virtute_. You have +worked up the article since I first read it in MS. far more than I +expected; and certainly with good and practical results. Your examples, +and particularly your notes, will help and please the English reader very +much. The introduction is as excellent (_ad hominem_ and yet dignified) as +the end. Many thanks for it. God will bless it. To-night I shall read out +the article to my wife, children, and Neukomm, as I long ago promised, and +to-morrow I will send it to the printer (with a few corrected misprints), +and will write to Empson “what I think about it.” So far, so good. + +Secondly, I find I cannot with honor shrink from some sort of comparison +of my Egyptian forms and roots with the Semitic and Iranian forms and +roots. The facts are so enormously great, that it does not in the least +matter whether the proof can be _thoroughly_ given in all its details. I +have therefore in my need thought of Rödiger, and have sent a letter to +him, of which I inclose a copy. You will see from it that I hold fast to +your friendly promise, to stand by me in the matter of Iran. What I said +on the certainty and satisfactory completeness of the tools contained in +my English edition, is, I am firmly convinced, not too strong. Still, I do +not mean to say that a comparison with rich results might not be +instituted between such Coptic _roots_ (I do not admit it of the +grammatical _forms_) as have not yet been rediscovered among the +hieroglyphics and the ancient Asiatic: some of them may be found again in +ancient Egyptian, almost unformed and not yet ground down; but that is +mere pedantry in most cases. We have enough in what lies before us in the +oldest form in attested documents, to show us the right formula for the +equation. + +And now for a few words about my family, which is so truly attached to +you, and watches your success with real affection. But no, I have +something else to say first on the Niebelungen. Your delightful letter +awoke a thought which has often crossed my mind, namely, that it does not +appear to me that the historical and early national element, which is but +thinly veiled under the poetical matter, has ever been sufficiently +searched out and distinguished. Grimm hates the historical elements which +lie beyond his “Beginnings of Nations,” and my late dear friend Lachmann +occupied himself with them most unwillingly. When, in 1825, I wrote that +little treatise in French for Chateaubriand, which he printed in his +“Mélanges,” I went over what had been said on this point, as far as it +concerned me, and I was surprised to see how little had been done in it. +Since that time I have heard of no investigations of the kind. But who can +now believe that the mention of Gunther and the Burgundians is the one +isolated historical fact in the poem? Is it not evident, for instance, +that the myth of the contemporaneousness of Attila and the great Theodoric +of the Ostrogoths has its historical root in the fact that _Theodoric, +King of the Visigoths_, fell in the great battle of Chalons, 451, fighting +against Attila; but his son Thorismund, to revenge his father’s death, +defeated the barbarians in a last assault, and gained the victory, on +which the Franks pursued the Huns even across the Rhine. From this arose +the connection of Attila with _Theodoric, the great King of the +Ostrogoths_, who lived forty years later, and was intimately connected +with the royal family of the Visigoths, and with the kingdom of the +Visigoths, but of course could never have had any dealings with Attila. + +If one neglects such intimations, one arrives at last at the Görres and +Grimm clairvoyance, where not only everything is everything, but also +everything again is nothing. Etzel, though, is not really Attila to Grimm, +but the fairy nature of the legend allows of no certain conclusions. But I +find that everywhere, where the tools are not wanting, the fermentation +and decomposition process of the historical element can be proved; from +which organically and by a process exactly analogous to that of the +formation of languages in the first ages of the world, the epic legend +arises, which the genius of the epic poet lays hold of when the time +comes, with a consciousness of an historical destiny; as the tragic poet +does in later times. + +If you have time, follow up this idea. This is the weak side of your +generation and guild. The whole national element has been kept too much in +the background in the conceit and high-stiltedness, not to say woodenness, +of our critical researches. Instead of saying with the humorists of the +eighteenth century, “Since Herman’s death nothing new has happened in +Germany,” one ought to say “since Siegfried’s death.” The genius of the +nation which mourned over Herman’s fall and murder was the same that in +its sorrow gave shape to the legend of Sigurd. Must not the hearts of our +ancestors, whose blood flows in our veins, have felt as we do in like +circumstances? The princes and their relatives have betrayed and sold and +murdered the true prince of the German people, even to this day. And yet +were there now but a Siegfried-Herman! “Exsurget aliquando istis ex +ossibus ultor.” + +I take this opportunity of calling your attention to a pamphlet by +Bethman-Hollweg, which has just appeared, “The Ancient Germans before the +Migration of Nations.” I send it to you to-day, and you must bring it back +when you come. Send me word by George when you can and will come. + +The Exhibition is, and will continue to be, the poetical and historical +event of the period. “Les Anglais ont fait de la poésie sans s’en douter,” +as that excellent Jourdain said of his prose. Come and see it and us as +soon as you can. + + + +[17.] + + +_Thursday, May 15, 1851_, 7 A. M. + +George, in the hurry of his journey, begs you, through me, to be so kind +as to be at the Oxford station when the Birmingham train arrives, Saturday +(the day after to-morrow) at 12 o’clock, and then kindly to help him in +showing Oxford to the _princeps juventutis_. They leave again at 8 o’clock +in the evening. The party will of course want some rooms in the best +hotel, to rest themselves. So it might be well to bespeak some rooms for +the travellers as a _pied à terre_. The party travel under the name of +Colonel Fischer or George Bunsen. + +I talked over the whole plan of the forms and roots with that good +Steinschneider yesterday, and requested him to ask you further about it. +He willingly undertook to do the work in the course of the summer. Thus we +have certainly got one, perhaps two, for the Semitic work. I have given +him a copy of my “Egypt.” He seems to be getting _tame_. + + + +[18.] + + +LONDON, _February 3, 1852._ + +I have exactly a quarter of an hour before I must make myself grand for +the opening of Parliament, and I will spend it in chatting with you. + +I will write to Pococke notwithstanding. I cannot help believing that the +German method of etymology, as applied to history by Schlegel, Lassen, and +Humboldt, and of which I have endeavored to sketch the outline, _is the +only safe one_. + +You have opened my eyes to the danger of their laying such dry and cheap +ravings to our account, unless we, “as Germans,” protest against it. + +I am rejoiced at your delight with the “Church Poetry.” But Pauli never +sent you what I intended; I wanted to send you the first edition of my +Hymn Book (no longer to be had at the booksellers’), because it has +historical and biographical notices about the composers, and contains in +the Preface and Introduction the first attempt to render the features of +continuity and the epochs more conspicuous. (It is my only copy, so please +for this reason take great care of it.) Also I wish to draw your attention +to _two translations_ from my collection. First by Miss Cox (daughter of +the Bedell in Oxford), _c._ 1840, small 8vo. Second by Arnold (Rugby), not +Dr. Arnold. This last I can send you. It contains _one_ translation by the +great Arnold, first part. You will observe, among other points, that the +most animated hymns of praise and thanksgiving were composed amid the +sufferings of the Thirty Years’ War. My attention has been directed to +Hillebrand’s “History of German Literature,” three volumes, as the _best_ +work, and to Vilmar’s ditto, one volume, as the _most popular_. I myself +only possess Gelzer’s thoughtful “Lectures” (from Lessing to Goethe), a +book which I prefer to Gervinus, as far as a just appreciation of the +national character and sentiment is concerned. (With many extracts.) I +rejoice at your cheerful spirit. But now be satisfied, and make more use +of the Romance languages. _Tutius ibis._ You have already sufficient +materials. We can and will benefit this hospitable land, even without +their desiring it; but _cautiously!_ You will laugh at this, and forgive +me; but I know what I am about. Next Saturday Volume II., ready bound, +will lie on my table. The plan of the doctrine of the Trinity, critical +and reconstructive, is a bold undertaking: the restoration of the genuine +substance of the Apostolical constitutions and canons (in the second half +of Volume II.) will probably have at present more success. But Volume +III., The Reconstruction and the Reform! “The two text-books of the Early +Church, The Church and House-Book and The Law-Book,” in biblical +phraseology and orthography, chiefly derived from documents never yet made +known, is my _pièce de résistance_; the sauce for it, in the Introduction, +contains three chapters (The Picture, The Mirror, The Practical +Reconstruction) for each section (Baptism, School, Constitution, Worship, +Life). + +So far I had written everything in English, _tant bien que mal_, without +hesitating a moment for thoughts or words. But here the Muse refused,—not +a single idea would flow into my pen. After three days I discovered that +the spirit _would_ and _could_ speak German. So I then hastily added the +first half of the Introduction; and I hope that the first cast of the +whole will be ready this week; and a week later Cottrell will have it for +translation, whilst the text-book (about 140 pages) is being printed in +slips. I am afraid the English edition will not appear before the end of +March; of the second I have already received Volume II. I think you will +approve of the offspring. May Apollo and the Muses enlighten people about +Bernays. I might then hope that he would again come here to me in the +summer. + +George has not yet announced his dissertation as “sent in to the faculty:” +till then he is wisely silent. He appears to me to be too much there in +the fashion and in society. May the devil carry off all fashionable women! + +John calls. God bless you. + +_Wednesday._—_Vivat Müller!_ I am just writing my congratulations to +Bernays. _Vivat Dean!_ + +Pauli’s book appears in English without his doing anything to it. + +You may recommend in Oxford, even to the most refined ladies and most +Christian evangelicals, “Spiritual Words” from Goethe, by Lancizolle, 120 +pages, 12mo (3_s_. beautifully bound). That is a German Bible. + +You know Wackernagel’s “Anthology”? It is useful, but gives too much of +second rate. I will make my daughters copy out Arndt’s German song for his +eighty-third birthday for you. Adieu. + + + +[19.] + + +_Saturday, March 13, 1852._ + +What in all the world is this undertaking to which Vaux asks my aid, the +new edition of Herbelot’s “Bibliothéque Orientale”? It might be made a +good work, although I hate the form, but _everything depends on the +management_. It is otherwise a mere bookseller’s speculation or Jesuit’s +trick. I have answered provisionally that in case biblical literature is +to be taken up (which is highly necessary), Ewald, Freytag, Bernays, +Rödiger, Hengstenberg, and Bernstein should be summoned to help. I don’t +quite trust the thing; but if it is possible to introduce the people to +good ideas, I am ready to aid. + +When are you coming? I have sent the last MS. to-day to the press, or +rather to the translator. I have only now reached the point on which I can +really speak in a practical tone. Volume III. will contain 600 pages. + + + +[20.] + + +LONDON, _November 13, 1852._ + +Though late, I send you my hearty greetings on your return to England. I +heard from Wilson that you were well, and that you had left your mother +well for the winter. + +Hippolytus lies here _ready_ for you, on purpose that you may fetch it. I +hope you will do so on the 18th, for which you have already received the +invitation. You will find Morier also here. Is not that furious and +ridiculous article in the “Morning Chronicle” on the second volume (the +first article, as yet without a continuation) by the same man (of Jesus +College?) on whose article in the “Ecclesiastic” on Hippolytus’ book I +have thrown some degree of light? The leading thought is exactly the same +in both; the account of Calixtus’ knavery is interpolated (by Novatianus), +says the writer in the “Chronicle.” This is a proof that nothing can be +said against my argument requiring a serious answer. Gladstone felt +ashamed of the review. It has helped the book; but it would be read even +without this and the recommendation of the “Guardian”—so Longman says. +_One_ circulating library here has taken twenty-five copies, and wants +more. So the book cannot be ignored; and that is all I first of all wished +for, _aculeum reliqui_. As the people of this country, with a few +exceptions that one can count upon one’s fingers, do not understand the +book, not even the title, and have never had a conception of what it +means, to reproduce the spirit of a century of which men as yet, with the +exception of Irenæus, Tertullian, Clemens Alexandrinus, and Origen, know +only the names and enigmas (of which latter Hippolytus was one), their +fault-finding with the composition of the book does not affect me at all. +In spite of the timidity of nearly _all_ English theologians, _inter muros +academicos et extra_, I have received very many hearty and manly letters +from numerous and distinguished people. The King has, on my +recommendation, sent Dr. Boetticher to spend two years here and in Paris +in order to bring to light the Syriac treasures which have not been laid +claim to by Cureton. I see that I have not been mistaken in him in spite +of his sporadic many-sidedness. I am free from the 2d of December. There +is a letter of mine just printing to Miss Winkworth, “On Niebuhr’s +Political Character,” with extracts from letters. + + + +[21.] + + +PRUSSIAN LEGATION, _Tuesday, November 30, 1852._ + +General von Scharnhorst, the worthy and highly educated son of his great +father, intends going to Oxford the day after tomorrow, Thursday, by the +morning express, perhaps to stay over the night. I will give him a line +for you, begging you to set him a little on his way. As to the +collections, geographical charts will be the most interesting to him; he +himself possesses the largest known collection (40,000). + +As soon as this infernal game is played out in Paris, I hope to have a +little leisure again. I have written a warning to Bernays: he is very much +out of spirits, and still far behindhand; says he only received the proper +appointment (from Gaisford) in February, and without mention of any fixed +time. He will write to you, and inclose what is done as a specimen. I am +delighted to hear from Lassen that Aufrecht is coming to England. Tell him +to call on me. _Cura ut valeas._ Rawlinson has been preferred to Luynes +and Wilson by the Berlin Academy. + + + +[22.] + + +_Wednesday, December 15, 1852._ + +Tell Aufrecht I will try and arrange the affair for him without his paying +any duty; and so at all events there will be a reduction. I was +excessively pleased with Aufrecht. Your parcels for Pertz will go safely +and quickly if they are here on the 1st or 15th of the month. + +P. S. Aufrecht must be courageous, and keep in good spirits. Haupt is +called to Berlin, which rather surprises me. Read the “Journal des +Débats,” Sunday, December 12, on Hippolytus. Do you know Laboulaye? + + + +[23.] + + +PRUSSIAN LEGATION, _February 19, 1853._ + +Please tell me at leisure how Amestris (Herod, ix. 109) is to be explained +as the wife of Xerxes? I am convinced that _Esther_ is hidden here, which +name, according to the testimony of the Book of Esther, was her _Persian_ +name, as she was first called _Myrtle_, as her Jewish maiden name. +Therefore _Am_ must mean “queen,” “mistress,” “lady,” or what you may +discover. I find that the idea had occurred to one and the other even +about 100 years ago; but was given up, partly on account of its +“godlessness;” partly on account of the uncertainty whether Ahasuerus was +really Xerxes, as Scaliger declared. The Suabian simpletons (for they are +so in historical matters) are the only people who now doubt this, and that +the book is historical,—a book with a history on which depends the only +great Jewish feast established since the days of Moses (till the +Purification of the Temple, after the fall of Epiphanes). So, my dear M., +send it to me. There can have been at that same time, in Persia, but one +woman so vindictive and clever as Esther is. The first volume of my +Prophets (from Abraham to Goethe) is ready, with a popular explanation of +the age of the so-called “Great Unknown” (Isaiah) of Daniel, and _all the +Psalms_, etc. I write _only German_ for this, but only _for the English_, +and yet without any reserve. + +The most remarkable of the thirteen articles which I have seen on +Hippolytus, is by Taylor (a Unitarian in Manchester), in the “Prospective +Review” (February). He confesses that I have made the principle of the +Trinity, and the national blessing of the Episcopacy and the Liturgy, +clear to him. I have never seen him, but he seems to me a deep thinker. I +am again in correspondence with Bernays, who promises to work at Lucretius +with all diligence. I think he has more leisure, and his health is better. + +To-morrow the new African expedition sets sail,—Dr. Vogel, the botanical +astronomer, and his army, two volunteers from the sappers and miners. I am +fully occupied with this; and but for my curiosity about Esther, you would +not have had a line from me before Monday. + + + +[24.] + + +PRUSSIAN LEGATION, _Monday_. + +My best thanks. All hail to the “Great Esther.” She was really called +Myrtle, for Hadascha is in Hebrew the myrtle—a name analogous to Susannah +(the lily). That Esther is ἁστῆρ has long been generally admitted, also +that Xerxes is Ahasverus. The analogy of Achasverosh and Kshayarsha has +also been proved. Finally, the chronology is equally decisive. The only +thing still wanting is _Amestris_. What it is still important to know, is, +whether _Ama_, “great,” was a common designation of exalted personages, or +specially of _queens_ (in opposition to the _Pallakai_), or whether the +name is to be considered as an adjective to _star, magna Stella_. The +first interpretation would make the Jewish statement more clear. I think +decidedly it is the most natural. It is conceivable that Uncle Otanes, +like l’oncle de Madame l’Impératrice, should have taken a distinguished +name, just as the Hebrew _myrtle_ had been changed into a Persian _star_. +But there is not the least hurry about all this. + +I rejoice extremely over your extemporary lectures. You are now on the +open sea, and “will go on swimmingly.” Always keep the _young men_ well in +mind, and arrange your lectures entirely for them. I should think that the +history of Greek literature (with glances backwards and forwards) after O. +Müller’s “History of Greek Literature,” would be a fine subject. Mure’s +book gives many an impulse for further thought. In what concerns the Latin +inscriptions, you must rely on _Gruter’s_ “Thesaurus,” after him on +Morelli; of the more recent, only on Borghese and Sarti, and on the little +done by my dear Kellermann. There is nothing more rare than the power of +copying accurately. + +Be patient with ——, if he has an honest mind. I can fancy that such a +mind, having been torn, wronged, and bothered, has become very +cross-grained. Only patience and love can overcome this. + +Overweg has fallen a victim to his noble zeal; he lies buried in the Lake +of Tsad. Vogel is happily already on the way to Malta and Tripoli. + + + +[25.] + + +PRUSSIAN LEGATION, _March 21, 1853._ + +Mrs. Malcolm and Longman are as delighted as I am that Dr. Thomson will +have the great kindness to write a preface to the “Theologia Germanica,” +and to look through the last proof-sheets. Longman has informed me this +morning that he makes over _half the net profits_ to Mrs. Malcolm, and +leaves to her the future arrangements with Dr. Thomson. Mrs. Malcolm +wishes for nothing for herself, but will hand over the profits to some +religious institution. Will you arrange the matter with Dr. Thomson? +Longman wishes to begin on the 15th of May, or even earlier, if everything +is ready for press. Of course Dr. Thomson knows the beautiful (though not +exhaustive, for it is unfinished) treatment of the history of this school, +in the last volume of Neander’s “Church History,” published after his +death; in which that delightful little book by Dr. C. Schmidt, “Johannes +Tauler” (Heidelberg, 1841), is made use of. You know that the author has +proved that the famous story of the conversion of Tauler by a layman is +_real history_. The man was called Nicholas of Basle, and was in secret +one of the Waldenses, and was afterwards burnt as such in France. I can +lend this little book to your excellent friend, as well as Martensen’s +“Master Eckhardt” (1842), and the authentic copy of the rediscovered +South-German MS. of the “Theologia Germanica.” + +Master Eckhardt was the deepest thinker of his school. Does Dr. Thomson +ever come to London? God bless you. + + + +[26.] + + +_April 8, 1853._ + +——’s attempt on “St. Hippolytus” is a new proof that he no longer even +understands Greek. The critical conjecture about the spuriousness of the +tenth book is worthy of the champion of the false Ignatius as against +Cureton. Many thanks for your news about Dr. Thomson, which I have +imparted to Mrs. Malcolm. + + + +[27.] + + +LONDON, _May 12, 1853._ + +I am going to-day to 77 Marina, St. Leonard’s-on-Sea (near Hastings), till +the 21st or 23d, and do not see why you cannot pay me a visit there. Our +hosts, the Wagners, would be delighted to give you a room, and—the sea a +bath. + +I take refuge there in order to write a new half-volume for the so-called +second edition of Hippolytus. The whole will, however, really be a new +work in three separate works and six volumes. + +I hear that —— has lost his father. In future, when you send such a shy +Englishman to me, let me know beforehand that he comes to talk over +something with me. I had the greatest wish, and leisure too, to do all he +wanted, but discovered only after he was gone that he came to ask me +something. + +A young friend, Dr. Arnold’s son, has translated Wiese’s book on schools, +and wishes to know whether the translation about which you have written to +Wiese, has been or will be really printed; otherwise he will publish his. +Or has any other already appeared? I have been turning tables with +Brewster. It is purely mechanical, the involuntary motion of the muscles +of the hand to right or left, just like the ring on a thread with which +one can strike the hour. Every one is mad about it here. _Che razza di +gente._ + +Now comes an urgent private request. Bekker wishes to publish a grand +work, through the Clarendon Press, in return for a proper honorarium,—a +definitive edition of Homer, with every possible commentary that could be +wished. This is a great work, worthy of the University and of Bekker. I +should like to learn through you what would be the Dean’s opinion, who is, +I think, favorably inclined to Bekker. It appears to me to be especially +needful to guard against the work appearing as a _rechauffé_ of Wolf, a +party-work, for which the sanction of the University is desired. The +proposal is “To publish a definitive edition of Homer, with Scholia and +Commentary, making it as complete and _absolutum_ as is wished.” Please +take the first good opportunity. I wanted to speak to the excellent man +myself when he was in London, but came too late. Hearty greetings to +Aufrecht. Bötticher works famously. + + + +[28.] + + +ST. LEONARD’S, _Saturday, May 22, 1853._ + +I think incessantly of you, though I cannot fancy that you are in any +danger. I have written to my brotherly friend Philip Pusey to help you, if +needful. If you wish for good advice about the different parties, combined +with perfect acquaintance with the place and people, go to him. I know few +men so able to give good advice. Besides, he is very much attached to you. + +The inclosed has just reached me through George. I will write to Bekker +according to your advice. That your intercourse with A. has become so +delightful and comfortable fulfills a hope I have cherished ever since I +first saw him. I think that you have given him, in all respects, a +delightful position. The German cannot easily get over the idea that God’s +providence shows itself far less in the eternal government of the world, +and in the care taken of every soul, than in an appointment to the civil +service. There are few such places in England for men of genius. But he +cannot fail with us in Germany, if he distinguishes himself in England; +only he should in time undertake some important and great work. + +The Cologne choir sing here from the 7th to the 21st of June. Eighty +voices. It will be a great treat. Arrange so as to hear something of it. +Carl is Secretary of Legation and Chargé d’Affaires at Turin. George tills +the ground, but not yet his own; but that will come some day, like the +kingdom of heaven. Henry is preparing to collate the “Codex +Claromontanus,” and has already worked well on the imperfect text. Ernst +arranges his garden and house, and has made a bowling-green for me. I am +now translating my Hippolytus into historical language, in what I call a +second edition. Write soon, as to how it is arranged about your +professorship. + + + +[29.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _Derby Day_. + +I received your letter here yesterday, from St. Leonard’s, and wrote at +once to Pusey. I think it will all go right. In your place, I would go at +once to Pusey, after announcing myself the previous day. + +Tell me why cannot you help that good A. to the £250 for the best treatise +on the Sankhya philosophy? I believe he has the right stuff in him for +opposing Pantheism, which is what is desired. + +Now for a request. I am writing the second of my five works, which have +been called into existence by Hippolytus. + +Sketches on the Philosophy of the History of Mankind:— + +A. On the Philosophy of Language. +B. On the Philosophy of Religion. + +A. is a reproduction and improved arrangement of the lecture in Oxford, +which now lies buried in the “Transactions.” In working over the +historical part, I have put aside a chapter, “The Primitive Languages in +India;” but find out, just as I intended to make you the _heros eponymus_, +that you only dealt in your lecture with Bengali, the Sanskrit affinity of +which requires to be demonstrated only to such wrong-headed men as the +Buddhists are. Could you not write a little article on this for my book? +The original language in India _must_ have been Turanian, not Semitic; but +we are bound in honor to prove it. + +_Monday, May 30._—My letter has been left unsent. I have just received +yours. Let me repeat what I wrote and underlined on the first page. It is +a great trial of patience, but _be_ patient, that is, wise. One must never +allow the toilsome labor of years of quiet reflection and of utmost +exertion for the attainment of one’s aim to be destroyed by an +unpropitious event. It is most probable, and also the best for you, that +the affair should not now be hurried through. Your claims are stronger +every quarter, and will certainly become more so in the eyes of the +English through good temper and patience under trying circumstances. I +don’t _for a moment doubt_ that you will be elected. Germany would suit +you now as little as it would me; and we both should not suit Germany. +_Spartam quam nactus es orna_, your good genius cries to you. So patience, +my dear friend, and _with a good will_. + +Bötticher is on the eve of bringing to a successful issue his thesis, +“That the triliteral roots have become biliteral, according to an organic +law.” He has advanced very much in critical research. I shall write a +_reductio ad absurdum_ review on the Rev. —— ——. It is really a book +written _invita Minerva_. + +Write soon again to me. With hearty sympathy and true friendship. + +Can you do anything for the good man in Naumburg? + + + +[30.] + + +LONDON, _July 1, 1853._ + +Good morning, my dear M. You were so good as to promise me _a chapter_ for +my “Sketch of the History of the Philosophy of Language;” namely, the +results of the latest investigations concerning the unity and Turanian +character of the non-Sanskrit languages of India. The printing of _my_ +three volumes goes on so fast that I am already revising the Celtic +portion, of which Meyer is the Heros. + +If, in your researches on the relationship of the Vedic language with +Zend, you have hit on new formulas, please gather these results together +into a separate chapter. Only one request,—without any delay, for the +printing _presses_. I hope you are satisfied about your future in Oxford. +Greet your friend and companion, whom we all liked very much. Again four +new men from Dessau among the arrivals! One is a famous actor from Berlin, +and has brought a letter from Lepsius. Lucien Bonaparte (brother of +Canino) is now writing a book here, “Sur l’Origine des Langues.” _No war!_ + + + +[31.] + + +_Monday, July 5, 1853._ + +A word of explanation, with my best thanks. I do not want the +Egyptian-Iranian work before September. I am just printing the treatise on +the “Origin of Languages” as a part of my philosophical work, and in it I +would gladly have something _on you_, and _from you_, on the +non-Sanskritic languages. Both chapters can be quite short, only definite. +You must help me over these two chapters. I shall soon send you as a +reminder the proof-sheets of what goes before, that you may see how I am +driven for it. So write away, regardless of consequences. You are by +instinct far too cautious for me to feel the least hesitation about saying +this. + +I am going on rapidly with the printing of my four volumes, and write _con +amore_ at the eighth (Hippolytus I.) The court goes on the 12th for a week +to Dublin. All right. No war, only uplifted fists! + + + +[32.] + + +LONDON, _Friday Evening, July 9, 1853_. + +Here follow the sheets, which I have just looked through, and where I wish +to have two short chapters interpolated. We have one page for each, as the +last leaf remains blank. Besides this, there is room for many additions to +the other chapters, which I commend to your critical and sympathizing +attention. Your Breslau friend has never called on me. He may have been at +the office whilst I was out. He would be welcome. Your opinion about +Sidney Pusey has set me at ease. Go soon to Pusey’s, to see the old man +himself. + + + +[33.] + + +LONDON, _Tuesday Morning, July 13, 1853_. + +“What one desired in youth one obtains in old age.” I felt this as I read +your chapter yesterday evening. It is exactly what I first wished to know +myself, in order to tell it to my readers. You have done it after my own +heart,—only a little too briefly, for a concluding sentence on the +connection of the language of the Achæmenian Inscriptions with Zend is +wanting. Pray write for me at once just such a Turanian chapter. I have +introduced that chapter this morning as coming from you, and have placed +your name in the list of investigators mentioned in the title, where it +belongs. For the Turanian part, however, you must yourself write me such +an Introduction as I shall only need to preface by a line. I mean, you +should give what you send me as the result of a portion of the +investigations with which you have busied yourself in your Oxford +Lectures, and which you intend to publish in your “Vestiges.” Never mind +space; it will all fit in. You have just hit the right tone and measure, +and have written the little chapter just after my own heart, though I +first learnt the matter from what you told me. Do you wish to see the list +of examples to “Grimm’s Law” again, which you made out for my lecture, and +which I shall give in my Appendix in order to make any additions? I have +as much space as you wish, even for new Appendices, if you will only give +me some. This will be a pet book of mine, and a forerunner of my +“Philosophy of History.” I do not doubt but that it will be read in +England, and indeed before all my other works on Hippolytus; for I give it +as a philosophical key to Hippolytus. I find that though at first +despised, it has in the last few months become the favorite part of my +Hippolytus. Write me a line to say how you are, and what you are about. +Again, my dear M., my best thanks. + +P. S. Is there anything to be said in the text, or Appendix, or in both, +about the real results of Aufrecht’s investigations on the Italian +languages? I should like to take the opportunity of bringing his name +before the English public. + + + +[34.] + + +_Wednesday, July 14, 1853._ + +This will do, my dear M. To-morrow early I will send you the fifth +chapter, printed, for correction, and expect your other chapter. +Concerning A., it is clear _you_ must write that chapter, for A. can do it +as little as I. So let me have that too. In the Catalogue of the examples +for “Grimm’s Law,” get everything ready, and I will then send you the +sheet, that you may enter the additions and corrections,—or, better still, +you can send me the additions and corrections first, and I will have them +inserted at once. Please do this. + + + +[35.] + + +LONDON, _July 15, 1853_. + +Your MS., my dear friend, is just dispatched to the printer, with the +order to send the proof of the whole chapter direct to you at Oxford. Send +the Mongolian chapter as soon as you conveniently can, but not sooner; +therefore, when your head is more free. The printing goes on, and it +cannot be paged till _your_ chapters are ready, and also I hope the +Italian one from Aufrecht, to whom I am writing about it to-day. He can +send it to me in German. You must give him some help as to the length and +form. It is best for him, if I _personally_ introduce him to the English +public, amidst which he now lives, and to which he must look for the +present. So I hope to receive a real masterpiece from the Oxford Mission +of German Science. + +_Vale. Cura ut valeas. Totus tuus._ + + + +[36.] + + +_Tuesday, July 20, 1853._ 10 o’clock. + +“As to the language of the Achæmenians, represented to us by the Persian +texts of the Cuneiform inscriptions”—so I began this morning, determined +to interpolate a paragraph which is wanting in your beautiful chapter, +namely, the relationship of the language of the inscriptions to that of +the Zend books, including the history of the deciphering with Grotefend in +the background, at the same time avoiding the sunken rocks of personal +quarrels (Burnouf contra Lassen). My young house-pundit gives the credit +to Burnouf (as he first informed Lassen of the idea about the satrapies). +However, it seems to me only natural that you should write the conclusion +of this chapter yourself. I shall also write a short chapter on Babylon, +for which I have still to read Hincks only, an uncomfortable author, as he +has no method or clearness, probably also therefore no principles. + +Now let us make this little book as attractive and useful to the English +as we can; for that is really our mission. + +Böticher asks if you do not wish to say something on the two dialects of +Zend, discovered by Spiegel,—an inquiry which delights me, as Bötticher +and Spiegel are at war, and in German fashion have abused each other. + + + +[37.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _Friday Morning_, _July 23, 1853_. + +Anything so important, so new, and so excellent, as what you send me can +never be too long. Your table is already gone to the printer. With regard +to the general arrangement, I would ask you to keep the plan in mind. + +1. That _all references_ (as for instance the table of the forty-eight +languages) belong to the Appendix or Appendices. + +2. The arrangement of the leading ideas and facts to the text (Chapter +X.). + +3. Nothing must be wanting that is necessary for the establishing a new +opinion. + +Your _tact_ will in all cases show you what is right. The justification of +those principles you will assuredly find with me in the arrangement of all +the other chapters, and of the whole work, as also in the aim in view, +namely, to attract all educated Englishmen to these inquiries, and show +them what empty straw they have hitherto been threshing. + +Greet Aufrecht, and thank him for his parcel. I cannot arrange Chapter IV. +till I have his whole MS. before me. I can give him till Tuesday morning. + +The separate chapters (twelve) I have arranged according to the chronology +of the founders of the schools. What is still in embryo comes as a +supplement; as Koelle’s sixty-seven African Languages, and Dietrich and +Bötticher’s Investigation of Semitic Roots. If your treatise is not so +much a statement of Schott, Castrén, and Co. as your own new work, you +shall have the last chapter for yourself. + +And now, _last but not least_, pray send me a transliteration table, _in +usum Delphini_. I will have it printed at the end of the Preface, that +everybody may find his way, and I shall turn in future to it, and see that +all transliterations in the book accord with it. I must ask for it +therefore by return. You understand what we want. “A transliteration +alphabet, for explaining the signs employed,” would be a good precursor to +yours and Lepsius’ scientific work. We shall do well to employ in the text +as few technical letters as possible. + +To-day I am going to see the “Bride of Messina” for the first time in my +life. I have no idea that the piece can possibly produce any effect; and I +am afraid that it may fail. But Devrient is of good courage. + + + +[38.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _July 29, 1853_. + +“What is long delayed must be good when it comes.” So I would be patient +till you had really caught your Tartar, did I not fear that my dear friend +was suffering again from his wretched headaches. Meanwhile I worked up the +Italica, and the summary of the sixty-seven African languages is getting +into shape, and the printer’s devils are run off their legs. It would be +delightful if my dear M. were to send me soon the chapter on the Mongols; +only he must not work up a headache. You will have received my Schott last +week by book post. + +I have not been well. Theodora has had gastric fever, but is quite on the +mend since this morning. + +At last I have received Lassen III. (2) with the map. + + + +[39.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _Tuesday, August 2, 1853_. Half-past eleven o’clock. + +My courier occupied me till nine. Since then I have read through your +letter with intense delight; and now in a quarter of an hour I must go to +the railway for a country party with Grote. I hasten to thank you for this +beautiful gem for my Introduction and for my whole book. You shall have +the last word. Your treatise is the only one in the collection which +extends beyond isolated types of speech and families, although it +preserves throughout the scientific method of Indo-Germanic philology. It +was a double refreshment to me, as out of conscientiousness I had looked +at and skimmed through L.’s perverse books. What determined impudence +there is in that man! + +Whilst I am looking over my materials, among which Aufrecht’s contribution +looks very well, I feel very strongly the want of a report of the last +results of the Caucasian languages. My two lines on Rosen look too +miserable; also new works have appeared on the subject. Samiel help! + +I am entirely of your opinion concerning the transliteration, but I +maintain that you must send me a table (key) to _your_ own +transliteration. For your table of the forty-eight is otherwise not easy +for my good English readers, or even for me; and to most it is +unintelligible. With the others I shall soon find my way. + +I intend to insert a chapter on definite terminology. I think it must be +settled from the only tenable hypothesis, namely, the spreading abroad +from one central point in mid-Asia,—that is, from the great district which +(originally) was bounded towards the north by the open Polar Sea, with the +Ural Island or Peninsula; to the west by the Caucasus and Ararat; east by +the Altai and Altan Mountains; and south by the continuation of the Taurus +Mountains, which stretch in the interior from west east, as far as the +Hindu-Kush. + +Therefore, for Turanian == Ural-Altaic, or the northeastern branch. + +For Semitic == Aramean, from Aram, the Mesopotamian highland. + +For Japhetic == Eastern highland, or southeastern branch. + +What do you think of this? I must get free from Semitie, etc., because +_Chamitic_ appears to be primitive Semitic, just as Turanian leans towards +Iranian. + +The carriage is there. Best thanks to Aufrecht. + +You are indulging in a beautiful dream if you imagine that I have Dietrich +here. I have studied his two volumes. I wish I could summon him to help +me. He was most anxious to come to England. I am afraid of a young scholar +whom I do not know personally. + + + +[40.] + + +_August 4, 1853._ + +Only a word, my dear friend, to express to you my delight and admiration +at your Turanian article. I was so carried away by it that I was occupied +with it till far into the night. It is exhaustive, convincing, and +succinct. + +What do you feel about the present state of the investigations on the +Basque? I have convinced myself by my extracts from the grammar and +dictionary that Basque is Turanian, but I have nothing fit for printing. I +have never seen Rask’s work. Do you know it, and can you make anything out +of it? + +There is only one point on which I do not agree with you. You say there is +no purely monosyllabic language. But even that wretched modern Chinese has +no dissyllabic word, as that would entail a loss of the accent. Or do you +deny this? I have covered the baldness of our German vulgarism, “thief,” +“liar,” in Böhtlingk versus Schott, and said, “With an animosity more +German than Attic.” Does that please you? Greetings to Aufrecht. + + + +[41.] + + +ABBEY LODGE, _August 22, 1853_. + +(Continuation of our conversation.) Before anything else, finish the +Iranian Chapter III. for me, a copy of which I gave you; that is to be +printed at once, as the Italic Chapter II. is printed, and needs only +revising. You will shake this at once out of your conjuring bag, won’t +you? + + + +[42.] + + +HIGHWOOD, _Friday, August 26, 1853_. + +It strikes me, my dearest M., that we should be more correct in +christening your essay _Arian_, instead of _Iranian_. I have always used +_Iranian_ as synonymous with _Indo-Germanic_ (which expresses too much and +too little) or (which is really a senseless name) Indo-European: Arian for +the languages of Aria in the wider sense, for which Bactria may well have +been the starting-point. Don’t you think we may use Arian, when you +confine yourself to Sanskrit, Zend, and Parsi? + +I get more and more angry at L.’s perverseness in doubting that the +Persians are Aryans. One cannot trace foreign words in Persian, and just +these it must have carried off as a stigma, if there were any truth in the +thing. One sees it in Pehlevi. But then, what Semitic _forms_ has Persian? +The curious position of the words in the _status constructus_ is very +striking. Yet you have explained that. Where, then, are the _Aramœisms_ in +the Achæmenian Inscriptions, which surely are Persian in the strictest +sense? Earlier the Persians may have been tormented by the Turanians, and +even subjugated; but the Babylonian rule of Shemites over Persia cannot be +of old date. About 2200 B. C., on the contrary, the Bactrians conquered +Babylon, and kept it for a long time. But would not totally different +corruptions have appeared in Persian, if they had allowed their language +to be so entirely ruined? A corruption, and then a later purification +through the Medes, sounds Quixotic. Will you not prove this point? + +If you can give some chronological landmarks for the epoch of the Veda +dialect, pray do so. There is so much in Lassen, that one learns nothing. +I fancied the age of the Mahâbhârata and Râmâyana epoch was tolerably +settled, and that thus a firm footing had been gained, as the language is +that of the same people and the same religion. If you can say anything in +the language-chapter about the genealogy of the mythological ideas it +would be delightful for you to take possession of it, without encroaching +on your own future explanations. And so good luck to you! + + + +[43.] + + +HIGHWOOD, _Friday Morning_, _August 26, 1853_. + +Your hearty and affectionate words for my birthday added to the happiness +of the day, which I spent here in the quiet of the country, with my +family. I have long looked on you as one of us; and when I look forward +into the future, I see your form as one of the bright points which there +present themselves to me. You groan now under the burden of a very heavy +mountain, which you have taken on your shoulders as others would take a +block; only the further you advance, the more will you be satisfied that +it is a part of the edifice which you will yet find time to finish; and at +the same time it will stand by itself as a κτῆμα ἐς ἀεί. + +George is well, and will be with us to-morrow week; Theodora a week later. + +Place your essay where you will. I find the connection with the Gothic by +means of “Grimm’s Law” most natural. The foundation of my arrangement was +the purely external idea of progression from the nearer to the more +remote,—from the known to the unknown. I hope that next time Aufrecht’s +muse will give us an intermediate chapter on the Hellenes, Pelasgians, +Thracians, Æolians, Dorians, and Ionians; it is curious enough that these +are entirely passed over. I do not know, though, what positive facts have +resulted up to now from comparative philology as regards the Hellenic +element. An historical insight is needed here, such as Ottfried Müller had +just begun to acquire when death robbed us of his noble mind. But Müller +really understood _nothing_ of comparative philology, as the Introduction +to his Etruscans proves. The Pelasgians must have been a nearly connected +people; the Thracians were certainly so. But from the north comes Hellas, +and from Hellas the Ionian Asia Minor. However, the history of the +language falls infinitely earlier than the present narrow chronologists +fancy. The Trojan War, that is the struggle of the Æolian settlers with +the Pelasgians, on and around the sea-coast, lies nearer 2000 than 1000 B. +C. The synchronisms require it. It is just the same with Crete and Minos, +where the early Phœnician period is out of all proportion older than +people imagine. Had we but monuments of Greek, like the Fratres Arvales in +Latin! Homer is so modern; even though he certainly belongs to the tenth +or eleventh century. That was a time in which the Hellenic mind sang the +history of the creation in the deep myth of Prometheus, the son of +Iapetos, with his three brothers, the emblem of humanity; a poem which +Homer no longer understood. + +Now cheer up, my dearest friend. The book must come out. + +Truly and cheerfully yours. + +My wife sends her hearty greetings. + + + +[44.] + + +LONDON, _September 2, 1853_. + +My good wishes follow you to Wales, without knowing your address; so for +my letter I must apply to Aufrecht. I hope you will speedily send me the +linguistic proof that the noble Vedic hymn you sent us belongs to at least +1,000 years—not B. C., but before the language of the epic poets. Still +this cannot really be the oldest; for it already contains a perfect +reflection of the old poetic age. + +Hare thinks the translation excellent, as I do; only one expression, +“Poets in their hearts discerned,” we can understand only if we make it +“have discerned” (or seen)—for otherwise it is only a continuation of the +narrative, which cannot be the meaning. Send it to me in German, for +Schelling. + +It is cold and rainy here; so don’t find fault with Wales, if you are +having bad weather there. _Cura ut valeas._ All the Muses be with you. + + + +[45.] + + +LONDON, _Friday Morning_, _September 24, 1853_. + +You have sent me the most beautiful thing you have yet written. I read +your Veda essay yesterday, first to myself, and then to my family circle +(including Lady Raffles, your great friend _in petto_), and we were all +enchanted with both matter and form. I then packed up the treasure at +once; at nine it goes to the printers. I think that the translation of the +hymn is really improved; it is not yet quite clear to me whether instead +of “poets discerned,” it should not be “poets discern,” or “have +discerned,” which is at all events the meaning. And now, I hope the same +father of the Muses, with their mother, Mnemosyne, will accompany you into +the Turanian wilderness, and give you courage to adopt the poor Malays; +that in the next separate edition of this sketch, as Mithridates, we may +already have the links for joining on Australia and East Africa. We go on +printing valiantly. Dietrich has at once accepted my proposal with true +German good-nature, although he has only been married for seven months to +a young and charming wife. His good mother-in-law tried to shorten the six +months, which he at first offered; but that would neither suit me nor him: +so I have written to him to come away at once—to arrive here the 16th of +October, instead of in November, that I may dismiss him with my blessing +early in April. + +J. Mohl is here, and Rosen. Both go on Monday. I give them on Saturday +(to-morrow) an evening party of _literati_, to which I have invited +Wilson, Norris, Loftus, Birch, etc., etc. Mohl, as well as Rosen, would +like to see you. Could not you by a stroke of genius fly here, rest +yourself Sunday, and think on Monday if you really need go back again? +Theodore is here, and George is expected. My household all share my wish +to see you. Greetings to Aufrecht. + +Bötticher has discovered a fragment of Livy (palimpsest), and the Greek +translation of Diocles, who, 120 B. C., wrote the “Founding of Rome” +(fragment). + +Another idea has just struck me. Could one not perhaps make the original +unity of Aryans and Europeans clear, if one furnished the hymn written in +Latin letters, with an interlinear translation, just as you once gave me +an intuition of the first lines, which I have never forgotten. The +translation would be best in Latin, with references to the other +languages, according as the one or the other of them contains certain +radicals with the same meaning as in Sanskrit. If you do not like this, +you must prepare for me a Vedic Paternoster, just as Lepsius devised for +me a pyramido-Pharaonic, and now prepares a Nubian. + +I have announced you as a member of the Assyrian Society, and so saved you +three guineas. It is arranged that whoever pays two guineas should receive +all reports, transactions, etc. I have therefore inserted your name, with +two guineas, and paid it. + +Lord Clarendon has, on my recommendation, attached Loftus to the embassy +at Constantinople, so that he has a position at Bagdad and Mosul. He +leaves on the 1st of October, and we give him a parting entertainment on +the 28th of this month. The plan is a secret, but we hope great things +from it. I hope to secure the best duplicates for the Berlin Museum. + +A Cheruscan countryman, personally unknown to me, Schütz from Bielefeld, +the Sanskritist, has asked, with antique confidence, for a bed for his +young daughter, on her way to Liverpool as a governess, which we have +promised him with real pleasure. This has again shown me how full Germany +is of men of research and mind. O! my poor and yet wealthy Fatherland, +sacrificed to the Gogym (heathen)! + + + +[46.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _Monday, October 17, 1853_, 10 o’clock. + +I have already admonished the printer most seriously. You have revised the +tables _once_, but they had to be fresh printed on account of the +innumerable alterations. But that is no reason why you should not get +them. You would have had them long ago, had I had an idea of it. I am +impatiently awaiting yours and Aufrecht’s revision of Chapters II., III., +and IV., which I sent you myself last week. This _presses_ very much. +_You_ have not much to do to them. I will look after the correct English +here with Cottrell; but all the rest Aufrecht can shake out of his bag. In +your letter you say nothing of having received them. They were taken to +the book-post on Monday evening, the 16th, a week ago, and sent off. + +_Mi raccomanda, Signor Dottore, per il manuscritto._ I will arrange the +printing as much as possible according to your wishes. Much depends on the +manner in which you organize the whole. With short chapters, easily looked +through, the whole can be brought forward as a treatise intended for _all_ +readers. I have not, however, been so fortunate with my Semitic essay; I +have printed a good deal of it in small print, partly to save space (for +the volume on the “Philosophy of Religion” must really not be even half as +thick as the first), partly on account of the legibility. + +I am so sorry to hear from Pertz that you have been suffering from +headache. I hope you are quite well and brisk again. + + + +[47.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _Saturday Morning, October 22, 1853_, 10 o’clock. + +All right, my dear friend. I have already sent everything off to the +printer. It is certainly better so. Where practicable you should have +_two_ chapters instead of _one_. + +Ffoulkes’ book shall be taken care of, either on the 1st or 15th. The same +with the “Bampton Lectures,” if it is wished. I shall receive Mr. Thomson +_summo cum honore_. + +But now, my dear friend, where does the great Turanian essay hide itself? +Pray let me soon receive something, not later than Monday or Tuesday; send +it as a parcel by parcels’ delivery, or, which is the cheapest and +quickest, by book-post, which takes MS. (not letters) as well as printed +matter, and forwards both for 6_d._ the lb. + +I have sent my most difficult task to the printers, “Origin of the Three +Gospels as part of the Second Age, 66-100.” I am longing for the promised +addenda from Aufrecht on the Haruspex. The printing is stopped for it, +also for the answer about a hieroglyphic which is unintelligible in +London, instead of the honest _amâ_==mother, which is not good enough for +him. + + + +[48.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _Monday Evening, October 24, 1853._ + +“It has lightened—on the Danube!” + +It is of too much importance to me to have my dear Turanian’s thoughts +according to his own best way and form, for me not to be ready to wait +till the end of November. The entire work, in seven volumes, must come out +together, and I can keep back till then the first part of the +“Philosophy,” which is entirely printed in slips up to your chapter, and +go on with the second. Just look once at that book by the Scotch +missionary, “The Karens, or Memoir of Ko-tha-bya,” by Kincaid, on the +Karens in Pegu. He maintains the unity of the Karens and Kakhyans, another +form of the same, and of all the scattered branches of the same race, +starting from Thibet (five millions altogether) as the remnant of a once +very powerful people. To judge from the representations the race must be +_very handsome_. Frau von Helfer told me the same, and she knows them. +There are extracts given in the “Church Missionary Intelligence,” October, +1853. Prichard says little about it, and has no specimens of the language. +I have not got Latham at hand. Haruspex is printing; it waits for the +conclusion. I have received Thomson’s “Bampton Lectures.” Where does +_rife_ come from—Anglo-Saxon _ryfe_? It means prevalent, abundant. + + + +[49.] + + +_Friday Morning, October 28, 1853._ + +Here is the printer’s excuse. It is useless to think of printing at +Oxford. You had better now keep the tables, in case you make more +alterations, till you have quite finished your work, that nothing more may +require alteration, but what you change during your work. I will send you +Kincaid, if it is in London. Perhaps by a smile from the Muses you can get +the first part ready in November. Is the Dean back? Good-by. + + + +[50.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _Monday, November 1, 1853._ + +Please send me the letter for Humboldt. I will inclose it. Write him (and +me) word in English what are the name and object of the Taylor +Institution, and the name of the office. You will receive Kincaid from me. +I will see after the tables. So courage. + + + +[51.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _Tuesday Evening, November 2, 1853._ + +I have written to Humboldt to announce your letter and request, so write +at once direct to him. I have told Pertz to send me the treatise of Schott +by the courier on the 15th. So you will receive it on the 20th of this +month. I have again admonished the printer. God bless you. + + + +[52.] + + +LONDON, _Wednesday, February 8, 1854._ + +My heartiest congratulations on your well-earned success (Taylorian +Professorship). Your position in life now rests on a firm foundation, and +a fine sphere of work lies before you; and that in this heaven-blest, +secure, free island, and at a moment when it is hard to say whether the +thrones of princes or the freedom of nations is in greatest danger. I send +you the papers as they are. There is hope that the war may yet be rendered +impossible. + +With true affection yours. + +Thanks for your Schleswig communication. + + + +[53.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _April 14, 1854._ + +DEAREST FRIEND,—So it is. My father has not up to this moment received a +recall, and probably will not, in spite of the efforts of the Russians, +within and without Berlin. On the other hand, we expect to-morrow the +reply to an answer sent by my father in opposition to a renewed and very +impetuous offer of leave of absence. In this answer (of the 4th of this +month) my father made his accepting leave of absence dependent on the +fulfillment of certain conditions guaranteeing his political honor. If the +reply expected to-morrow from Berlin does not contain those conditions, +nothing remains but for my father to send in his resignation and leave the +Prussian mock negotiations to be fought through by another Prussian +ambassador. If they are accorded to him, he will go on long leave of +absence. But in either case he will certainly remain provisionally in +England. More I cannot tell, but this is enough to give you information +_confidentially_. + +Dietrich is gone, and begged me to tell you, that in spite of constant +work at it here, he could not finish your commission. He will have leisure +in Marburg to make it all clear for you, and will send the packet here by +the next courier. I will send you a line to-morrow as to the events of the +day. My father does not go into the country before Tuesday. + +GEORGE BUNSEN. + + + +[54.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _Maundy Thursday, April, 1854._ + +MY DEAR FRIEND,—The bearer, Herr von Fennenberg from Marburg, has brought +me greetings and a little book from Thiersch, and wishes to be introduced +to you. He is a philologist, in particular a Sanskritist. He wishes to +have a place or employment that would make it possible for him to stay in +England. I know no one who could better advise him than you. Before you +receive these lines you will hear from George about me. I am determined to +fight through the crisis, and am quite calm. + + + +[55.] + + +CARLTON TERRACE, _Wednesday, May 10, 1854._ + +DEAR FRIEND,—Of course Dietrich has sent nothing. The affair presses. My +summary of the Semitic alphabet (lithographed) gives the summary of the +system of transliteration used in this work, and is also in the press. Set +aside then what is still wanting, and hurry on the matter for me. My +journey to Heidelberg with my family, who at all events go on the 20th, +depends on the work being finished. To-day I take refuge at St. +Leonard’s-on-Sea, 77 Marina, till the telegraph calls me to London to +receive my letters of recall. I depend, therefore, on your friendly help +in one of the most important parts of the book. All right here; the house +is deserted, but the heart rejoices and the soul already spreads its +wings. Truly yours. + +Just starting. Dear M., pray send the MS. Spottiswoode lays everything on +you. + + + +[56.] + + +77 MARINA, ST. LEONARD’S, _Monday Morning, May 15, 1854._ + +Your despairing letter of Thursday has alarmed me very much. You had +offered me the alternative of leaving out the Semitic tables, if Dietrich +does not send them by the courier. I did _not_ write to him, as the +omission of that list really did not seem to me a great misfortune. But +now you say something quite new to me, and most dreadful, that you cannot +make the _corrections_ without having what I am unable to procure for you. +I must own I cannot make this out. Trusting to your goodwill to do the +_utmost_, I wrote to Petermann to send you at once an impression of the +Semitic paraphrase put together by me and Bötticher. The courier comes on +Friday, only I have given up all dependence on Dietrich, since he could +take away the lists with him. He never said a word to me about it. + +I _must_ go to Germany on the 16th of June. Yesterday I sent _all the +rest_ to Spottiswoode, and at the same time complained about Watts. Only +what can they, and what can I do, if you do not enable us to finish the +most important book of the three works? I hope you have not worked +yourself to death for Trevelyan, and that you will reserve a free hour for +London to say good-by. Since last night I am at work at my German “Egypt,” +to my inexpressible delight. _Friday_ I return to town, and stay probably +(at Ernest’s) till my things are sold. _Cura ut valeas._ + +What is the original meaning of _glauben_, to believe? + + + +[57.] + + +ST. LEONARD’S, _Wednesday, May 24, 1854._ + +You have done wonders; and I hope you will rest yourself. A thousand +thanks. I have at once sounded an alarm. I go to-day to town; Fanny and +her two daughters will embark on Sunday morning: we have taken a house +from the 1st of July, on the Neckar. I hope you will soon make your +appearance there. George goes into the country to-morrow on business. I +stay with Ernest till Hippolytus is out. + +The snare is broken, and the bird is free; for which let us bless the +Lord. As they once let me out of my cage, they shall not catch me again. +My fifth book is ready for printing, down to the general philosophical +article. Johannes Brandis, the Assyrian chronologist, arranges for me the +synchronistic tables from Menes to Alexander. + +Greetings to Aufrecht. I have not yet received the impression of the text, +which he restored from the Codex. + + + +[58.] + + +ABBEY LODGE, REGENT’S PARK, _Friday, June 9, 1854._ + +Your letter came just when wanted, my dearest friend. My wife and children +leave the house to-morrow; and I follow them a week later, on account of +Spottiswoode. Come here then to-morrow morning, and stay at least till +Monday: so my daughter-in-law Elizabeth begs, who herself goes to Upton. +George, Brandis, and I help Ernest to keep house this week. + +I have _to-day_ sent to press the “Resolutions and Statements on the +Alphabet” which you wrote, with Lepsius’s not “amendments” but certain +explanations on his part, and my now English “recapitulations.” I shall +receive the first impression to-morrow evening. Lepsius has sent a long +Essay, of which I only print the “Exposition of the System,” with some +“specimens of application.” + +You should rejoice, as I do, over “Hippolytus VII., Christianity and +Mankind, their Beginnings and Prospects,” in seven volumes (also as three +separate works). + +I shall easily finish it. Also “Egypt II.” is publishing; I have written a +new Preface to it. The “Theologia Germanica” is waiting for you; one copy +for my dear M., and one for Dr. Thomson, whose address I don’t know. +Spottiswoode has vowed to have _all_ ready next week. If you could stay +here, and revise your sheets at once, I might believe the vow. + +We have secured a beautiful house in Heidelberg (Heidt-weiler), on the +right bank, opposite the Castle. + + + +[59.] + + +_Thursday Morning, June 15, 1854_, 9 o’clock. + +Immediately saw about Venn: wrote urgently to him to send the order direct +to Spottiswoode, and marked this on the sheet. I cannot send Lepsius, +because the sheets are being printed; refer the printer to it. You +deceiver! the hymn is without the interlineal version for the +non-Iranians. Just as if you were a German professor! I personally beg +earnestly for it, for myself and for those who are equally benighted. I +have everything now at press, except some Latin abuse for M. Your visit +refreshed me very much. Fanny had an exceedingly good journey, and will be +to-morrow in Heidelberg. + + + +[60.] + + +_Thursday, June 15, 1854._ + +DEAREST FRIEND,—All ready for the journey. Your slips come in. Thirty-two +men are day and night printing, composing, correcting, etc. I am ready. +Venn will print nothing of yours, and will not even send Lepsius’ Essay to +the missionaries, that they may not be driven mad. + +I do not know what books you have of mine: if I can have them by Saturday +morning, 9 o’clock, good—if not, you must bring them yourself. George goes +with me, instead of Ernest. + + + +[61.] + + +HEIDELBERG, _June 23, 1854._ + +DEAR MAX M.,—Allow me, through this note, to recommend to you, in my own +name, as well as in the name of the Duke of Coburg and Baron Stockmar, the +bearer of this, Dr. Wilhelm Pertsch, who is going to England on Sanskrit +business, and needs kind advice and a little assistance in his +undertaking. Bunsen, who sends you his heartiest greetings, had at first +offered to give him a letter to Wilson, but thought afterwards a word from +you was worth more with Wilson than a letter from any one else. + +The Bunsens have quite decided now to settle at Heidelberg for at least a +year, and are already hoping for a speedy visit from you, by which I hope +also to profit. He is studying upstairs with great delight your official +and scientific _vade mecum_ on the Turanian languages. Yesterday, by means +of a breakfast, I introduced him to most of the scientific and literary +celebrities here—such as H. Gagern, Mohl, Dusch, Harper, Jolly, etc., etc. +George came with them, and helped in arranging things, but returns +to-morrow. + +A thousand good wishes. And always keep in friendly remembrance + +Your true friend, + +K. MEYER. + + + +[62.] + + +HEIDELBERG, CHARLOTTENBERG, _June 29, 1854._ + +I cannot let George, who took care of me here, return without a token for +you of my being alive. I read your book for the English officers partly on +the road, and partly here, with real delight and sincere admiration. What +an advance from a “Guide Interprête,” or a “Tableau Statistique,” to such +an introduction to languages and nationalities. The map, too, is +excellent. The excellent Petermann must make us several, just of this +kind, for our unborn Mithridates. + +I should like to scold your English reviser for several Gallicisms, for +which I feel certain you are not to blame. Rawlinson’s barbaric _débris_ +instead of “ruins,” and _fauteuil_ instead of “chair,” which in French as +well as in English is the right expression for a professor’s chair; whilst +_fauteuil_ is only used in French to denote the “President’s chair” (for +instance, in the Institute), and is quite inadmissable in English, even by +the “Upholsterer.” The third I have forgotten but not forgiven. + +I cannot _even now_ give up my habit of using Iranian in opposition to +Turanian, in deference to you. He who uses Turanian must use Iranian. +Arian is to me something belonging to the land of Aria, therefore Median, +part of Bactria and Persia. It is decidedly a great step in advance to +separate the Indian from this. That the Indians acknowledge themselves to +be Arians, suits me as it does you. But Iranian is a less localized name, +and one wants such a name in contradistinction to Turanian and Semitic. It +is only despised by the German “Brahmans and Indomaniacs.” + +There you have my opinions and criticisms. + +I have already written 67 of the 150 pages belonging to the fifth book, +and cannot go on till I have my books. I am now occupied with the +principles of the method for the historical treatment of mythology, with +especial reference to three points in the Egyptian:— + +1. Age and relation of the Osiris-worship to the θεοὶ νοητοί and the +astronomical gods (Ra, Horus, etc.). + +2. History of Seth in Asia and in Egypt, _ad vocem Adam_. + +3. Position and signification of animal worship. + +Book IV. goes to press on the 15th of July. Book V. must be ready (D. V.) +on the 24th of August. + +Both the people and the country here please me. The land is enchantingly +beautiful, nay, fairy-like, and our house is in the best situation of all. +Fanny is almost more at home in Germany than I am, and the girls revel in +the German enjoyment of life. I count on your paying us a visit. Say a +good word for us to your mother, and persuade her to come with you to +visit us in Heidelberg. We should much like to make her acquaintance, and +tell her how dear you are to us all. Meyer is _proxenus Anglorum_ and +_Anglaram_, and does nothing. I hope to form here a little Academia +Nicorina. Shall I ever leave Heidelberg? God bless you. _Cura ut valeas._ +Ever yours. + +P. S. I have worked through Steinschneider’s sheet on the Semitic Roots in +Egyptian with great advantage, and have sent it to Dietrich. The analogy +of the consonants is unmistakable. Dietrich will certainly be able to fix +this. And now you must shake that small specimen Aricum out of your Dessau +conjuring sleeve. You need only skim the surface, it is not necessary to +dig deep where the gold lies in sight. But we must rub the German nose in +Veda butter, that they may find the right track. + +We shall have a hard battle to fight at first in the Universities. Were +Egypt but firmly established as the primitive Asiatic settlement of the as +yet undivided Arian and Semitic families, we should have won the game for +the recognition of historical truth. + +I hope the “Outlines” and “Egypt” will come over next week. Longman will +send them both to you; and also the copy of the Outlines for Aufrecht (to +whom I have written an ostensible letter such as he wished for). I wish +something could be found in Oxford for that delightful and clever man +Johannes Brandis. He would exert an excellent influence, and England would +be a good school for him. Will the Universities admit Dissenters to take a +degree? + + + +[63.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _December 12, 1854._ + +MY DEAR VANISHED FRIEND,—Where thou art and where thou hast turned since +thy fleeting shadow disappeared, I have asked in vain on all sides during +my journey through Germany. No one whom I met had seen you, which Ewald +particularly deplored very much. At all events you are now in the +sanctuary on the Isis, and I have long desired to communicate one thing +and another to you. But first I will tell you what at this moment lies +heavy on my heart—“Galignani” brought me the news yesterday: my dear +friend Pusey lies seriously ill at his brother’s house in Oxford; “his +life is despaired of.” Unfortunately there is nothing improbable in this +sad intelligence. I had already been anxious before this, for ten days, as +I had written to him, to Pusey, nearly three weeks ago, on the news of the +death of his wife, entreating him most pressingly, for his own and his +family’s sake, to spend the winter here, and to live as much as possible +with us, his old friends. I know he would have answered the letter, were +he not ill. Perhaps he was not even able to read it. + +Dr. Acland is our mutual friend, and without doubt attends the dear +invalid. At all events, he has daily access to him. My request therefore +is, if he is not already taken from us, that you will let Acland tell you +how it really is with him, and let me hear by return of post, via Paris: +if possible also, whether Pusey did receive my letter, and then how Sidney +and the two daughters are; who is with them, whether Lady Carnarvon or +only the sisters of charity. + +Now to other things. + +1. Dietrich gave me the inclosed, of course _post festum_. I have marked +at the back what he still wants in your Tables. + +2. Greet Dr. Aufrecht, and tell him I am very sorry that Dietrich has +found fault with his Paternoster. I was obliged in the hurry to leave the +printing of this section to him. I will let A.’s metacritic go to him. + +3. I have a letter from Hodgson of Darjeling as an answer to the letter +written here by you, very friendly and “in spirits,” otherwise but +slightly intelligible. He refers me to a letter forty pages long which he +has sent to Mohl in Paris, an improved edition of the one he sent to +Wilson. He supposes that I received both; if not, I should ask for the one +to Mohl. + +Of course I have received neither. But I have sent to Mohl through his +niece, to beg he would send the said letter to _you_, and you would inform +me of the particulars. I hope you have already received it. If not, see +about it, for we must not lose sight of the man. + +The copy of the “Outlines” must now be in his hands. These “Outlines,” the +child of our common toil, begin now to be known in Germany. Ewald has +already taken a delight in them; he will review them. Meyer is quite +enchanted with your Turanians, but would gladly, like many others, know +something more of the Basques. For me it is a great event, having made a +_friendship for life_ and an alliance with Ewald, over Isaiah’s + +“No peace with the wicked;” + +and on still higher grounds. Those were delightful days which I spent in +Göttingen and Bonn, as also with Bethman-Hollweg, Camphausen, and others. +I see and feel the misery of our people far more deeply than I expected, +only I find more comfort than I hoped in the sympathy of my +contemporaries, who willingly give me a place among themselves. + +A proposal to enter the Upper House (of which, however, I do not care to +speak) I could of course only refuse, with many thanks. I have finished my +“Egypt,” Volume. IV., with Bötticher, and sent it for press for the 1st +January. + +As an intermezzo, I have begun a specimen for a work suggested to me in a +wonderful manner from England, America, and Germany (particularly by Ewald +and Lücke),—a real Bible for the people, that is, a sensible and sensibly +printed text, with a popular statement of the results of the +investigations of historical criticism, and whatever the spirit may +inspire besides. + +I am now working from Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Baruch, where, beyond all +expectation, I found new light on the road I was treading. + +We live in the happiest retirement. Your visit, and that of your mother, +of whom we all became very fond, was a great delight to us, though a short +one. Fanny and I have a plan to greet her at Christmas by a short letter. +Now write me word how it fares with you. + + + +[64.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, BADEN, _January 11, 1855._ + +MY DEAR FRIEND,—I think you will not have misunderstood my silence since +your last letter. Your heart will have told you that no news could be +pleasanter to me than that you would undertake to bring the last sevenfold +child of my English love into public notice. This can of course only be +during the Parliamentary recess. You know better than any one what is the +unity of the seven volumes, and what is the aim and result. Your own is a +certainly not unimportant, and an independent part of it. But you have +with old affection worked yourself and thought yourself into the whole, +even where the particulars were of less interest to you. Lastly, as you +have told me to my delight, Jowett has begun to interest himself in the +work, and you have therefore one near at hand who, from one point of view, +can help you as reflecting English opinion. Ewald told me that I had +wished to give a Cosmos of the mind in that work. At all events, this idea +has floated before me for many years, and is expressed in the Preface to +the “God Consciousness.” Only it is not more than _a study_ for that which +floats before me. My two next volumes will give more of it. If I only knew +what to do with the work for Germany! My task was arranged for England. It +seemed to me important, under the guidance of the rediscovered Hippolytus, +whose form first rose clearly before me during the first work, to show the +organic development of the leading ideas of Christendom in the teachers +and heroes, beginning from the first Pentecostal feast; in order to sift +the ground, and show to my readers— + +_a._ That the old system of inspiration and the Theodice of the Middle +Ages, that is to say, that of the seventeenth century, has no _support_ in +ancient Christianity, but just the _contrary_. That is now a fact. + +_b._ That we have something infinitely more reassuring to put in its +place. Truth instead of delusion; reality instead of child’s play and +pictures. + +_c._ That it is high time to be in earnest about this. + +_d._ That for this, _clear insight_ and practical purpose, also reasoning +and moral earnestness, will be required on the part of the spiritual +guides. + +_e._ But that before all things Christianity must be introduced into the +reality of the present; and that the corporation of the Church, the life +of the community in its worship as in its mutually supporting work, must +become the centre whence springs the consciousness of communion,—_not_ a +system of theology. Christianity is nothing to me but the restoration of +the ideal of humanity, and this will become especially clear through the +antecedent forms (præformations) of the development in language and +religion. (See “Outlines.”) There is a natural history of both, which +rests on laws as sure as those of the visible Cosmos. The rest is +professional, philological,—_legitimatio ad causam_. + +How much of this idea can be presented to the English public, and in what +manner, you know much better than I. Therefore you know the one as well, +and the other better than I do. This is the reason why I believe you would +not wait for my answer. Still I should have sent to you, if during this +time two passions had not filled my heart. For once the dreadful distress +of our condition forced me to try, from the midst of my blessed Patmos, to +help by letters as far and wherever I could, through advice and cry of +distress and summons to help. Now there is nothing more to be done but to +wait the result. _Alea jacta esse_. Ernest is in Berlin. + +My second passion is the carrying out of an idea by means of a Christian +philosophical People’s Bible, from the historical point of view, to get +the lever which the development of the present time in Europe has denied +me. That I should begin this greatest of all undertakings in the +sixty-fifth year of my age, is, I hope, no sign of my speedy death. But I +have felt since as if a magic wall had been broken down between me and +reality, and long flowing springs of life stream towards me, giving me the +discernment and the prolific germ of that which I desired and still strive +after. The Popular Bible will contain in two volumes (of equal thickness), +1st, the corrected and reasonably divided text; and 2d, the key to it. For +that purpose I must see whether I shall succeed in executing the most +difficult part, Isaiah and Jeremiah. And I have advanced so far with this +since yesterday evening, that I see the child can move, it can walk. The +outward practicability depends on many things, but I have thoroughly +worked through the plan of it. + +By the end of 1856 all must be ready. My first letter is to you. Thanks +for your affection: it is so exactly like you, breaking away at once from +London and going to Oxford, to talk over everything with Acland. + +Meyer has once more descended from Pegasus, to our prosaic sphere. I +believe he is working at a review of our work for the Munich Literary +Journal of the Academy. Laboulaye (Vice-President of the Academy) says I +have given him so much that is new to read, that he cannot be ready with +his articles before the end of February. We shall appear in the “Débats” +the beginning of March. + +Holzmann is working at the proofs that the Celts were _Germans_. Humboldt +finds the unity of the Turanians not proved. (Never mind!) Osborn’s +“Egypt” runs on in one absurdity (the Hyksos period _never_ existed), +which the “Athenæum” censures sharply. + +What is Aufrecht about? But above all, how are you yourself? God preserve +you. My family greet you. Heartily yours in old affection. + + + +[65.] + + +HEIDELBERG, _February 26, 1855._ + +It was, my dear friend, in expectation of the inclosed that I did not +sooner return an answer and my thanks for your affectionate and detailed +letter. I wish you would take advantage of my communication to put +yourself in correspondence with Benfey. He is well disposed towards you, +and has openly spoken of you as “the apostle of German science in +England.” + +And then he stands _infinitely_ higher than the present learned men of his +department. He would also be very glad if you would offer yourself to him +for communications suitable for his Oriental Journal from England, to +which he always has an eye. (Keep this copy, perhaps Jowett may read it.) +Humboldt’s letter says in reality two things:— + +1. He does not approve of the sharply defined difference between nomadic +and agricultural languages; the occupations may change, yet the language +remains the same as before. That is against _you_. The good old man does +not consider that the language will or can become another without +perishing in the root. + +2. He does not agree in opposing one language to all others as +_inorganic_. This is against _me_. But _first_, this one language is still +almost the half of the human race, and _secondly_, I have said nothing +which his brother has not said as strongly. It is only said as a sign of +life, and that “my praise and my admiration may appear honest.” + +In the fifth volume of my “Egypt” I call the languages sentence-languages +and word-languages; that is without metaphor, and cannot be misunderstood. +The distinction itself is _right_. For _organic_ is (as Kant has already +defined it) an unity in parts. A granite mountain is not more thoroughly +granite than a square inch of granite, but a man without hands or head is +no man. + +I am delighted to hear that your Veda gets on. If you would only not allow +yourself to be frightened from the attempt to let others work for you in +mere handicraft. Even young men have not time for everything. You have now +fixed your impress on the work, and any one with the _will_ and with the +necessary knowledge of the tools, could not go far wrong under your eye. I +should so like to see you free for other work. _Only do not leave Oxford. +Spartam quam nactus es orna._ You would not like Germany, and Germany +could offer you no sphere of activity that could be compared ever so +distantly with your present position. I have often said to you, Nature and +England will not allow themselves to be changed from _without_, and +therein consists exactly their worth in the divine plan of development; +but they often alter themselves rapidly from within. Besides, the reform +is gone too far to be smothered. Just now the Dons and other Philisters +can do what they like, for the _people_ has its eyes on other things. But +the war makes the classes who are pressing forwards more powerful than +ever. + +The old method of government is bankrupt forever. So do not be +low-spirited, my dear M., or impatient. It is not so much the fault of +England, as of yourself, that you do not feel settled and at home. You +have now as good a position as a young man of intellect, and with a future +before him, could possibly have anywhere, either in England or in Germany. +Make a home for yourself. Since I saw your remarkable mother, I have been +convinced that, unlike most mothers, she would not stand in the way of +your domestic happiness, even were it contrary to her own views, but that +she must be the best addition to your household for any wife who was +worthy of you. Oxford is London, and better than London; and London is the +world, and is _German_. How gladly would Pauli, that honest, noble German +soul, stay, if he had but an occupation. The subjection of the mind by the +government here becomes more vexatious, more apparent, more diabolical. +_One_ form of tyranny is that of Augustus, the more thorough, because so +sly. They will not succeed in the end, but meanwhile it is horrible to +witness. More firmly than ever I settle myself down here in Heidelberg, +and will take the whole house, and say, “You must leave me my cottage +standing, and my hearth, whose glow you envy me.” _We_ are now on the +point of binding ourselves, without binding ourselves; and the prudent man +in P(aris) pretends not to observe it—just like the devil, when a soul is +making some additional conditions. + +Still, it is possible that the desire to aid in the councils of Vienna at +any price may carry us so far that we may join in the march against Poland +and Finland. After all, the rivers flow according to the laws of +gravitation. + +I have definitely arranged my “Biblework” in two works:— + +A. The Bible (People’s Bible), corrected translation, with very short and +purely historical notes below the text. One volume, large Bible-octavo. + +B. The Key, in three equally large volumes (each like the Bible). I. +Introduction; II. The restored documents in the historical books of the +Old Testament, and restoration of the prophets Jeremiah and Isaiah, and of +some of the smaller prophets; III. The New Testament. (The life of Christ +is a part of this.) + +_The work looks well._ I have now not only perfectly defined the Exodus +and time of the Judges, but have put it so clearly and authentically +before the public, that as long as the world of Europe and America lasts, +the theologians cannot make the _faithful_ crazy, nor the scoffers lead +them astray. It can be finished in three years. I can depend on _Ewald_ +and _Rothe_. + +We have got through the winter. I, for the first time for twenty years, +without cold or anything of that sort. The delicious air of Spring begins +to blow, the almond-trees promise to be in blossom in a week. With true +love, yours. + + + +[66.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _Tuesday Morning, April 17, 1855._ + +(The day when peace or war will be decided.) + +MY DEAR M.,—I cannot delay any longer to tell you that your first article +announced to us by George, has reached me, and excited the delight and +admiration of us all. It is pleasant, as Cicero says, “laudari a viro +laudato;” but still sweeter “laudari a viro amato.” And you have so +thoroughly adopted the English disguise, that it will not be easy for any +one to suspect you of having written this “curious article.” It especially +delights me to see how ingeniously you contrive to say what you announce +you do not wish to discuss, namely, the purport of the theology. In short, +we are all of opinion that your aunt or cousin was right when she said in +Paris, to Neukomm, of you, that you ought to be in the diplomatic service. +From former experience I have never really believed that the second +article would be printed; it would have appeared by last Saturday at the +latest, and would then have been already in my hands. But the article as +it is has given me great pleasure, and all the greater because it is +yours. I only wish you might soon give me the power of shaking your dear +old hand, which I so often feel the want of. + +Meanwhile I will tell you that Brockhaus writes in a very friendly way, in +transmitting Ernst Schulze’s biography (the unfortunate poet’s journal, +with very pleasant affectionate descriptions of his friends, of me +especially), to ask if I would not make something out of the new +Hippolytus for Germany. This letter reached me just as I had blended my +past and future together for a large double work, the finished parts of +which are now standing before me in seven large portfolios, with completed +Contents, Preface, and Introduction. + +“The Bible of the Faithful,” four volumes, large Bible-octavo; Volume I. +the Bible; Volumes II.-IV. (separated) Key. + +“The Faithful of the Bible.” (A.) The _government_ and the _worship_ of +the faithful. Two books, one volume. (B.) The congregational and family +book (remodeling of the earlier devotional books for the faithful of the +Bible), two volumes. + +At the same time “Egypt” was at last ready for press as two volumes; and +so I took courage to take up again that old idea, especially that which we +had so often discussed. But first I can and will make a pretty little +volume from the historical portraits in Hippolytus: “The first seven +generations of Christians.” A translation (by Pauli) of the exact text of +the first English volume, preceded by the restoration of the line and the +chronology of the Roman bishops down to Cornelius, since revised and much +approved of by Röstell (quite clearly written out; about ten printed +sheets with the documents). + +This gives me hardly any trouble, and costs me very little thought. But +secondly, to use Ewald’s expression: “The Kosmos of Language” (in four +volumes). This is _your_ book, if it is to exist. It appears to me before +anything else to be necessary to draw proper limits, with a wisdom worthy +of Goethe. + +I do not think that the time has come for publishing in the German way a +complete or uniformly treated book; I think it is much more important to +fortify our view of language from within, and launch it forth armed with +stings upon these inert and confused times. _Therefore_ method, and +satisfactory discussion of that on which everything depends; with a +general setting forth of _the_ points which it concerns us now to +investigate. I could most easily make you perceive what I mean, by an +abstract of the prospectus, which I have written off, in order to discuss +it thoroughly with you as soon as you can come here. As you would have to +undertake three fourths of the whole, you have only to consider all this +as a proposal open to correction, or rather a handle for discussion. + +FIRST VOLUME. (Bunsen.) + +_General Division._ + +_Introduction._ The Science of Language and its Epochs (according to +Outlines, 35-60). + +1. The Phenomena of Language (according to Outlines, ii. 1-72). + +2. The Metaphysics of Language (according to Outlines, ii. +73-122)—manuscript attempt to carry out Kant’s Categories, not according +to Hegel’s method. + +3. The Historical Development (Outlines, ii. 123-140; and Outlines of +Metaphysics, second volume, in MS.). Müller _ad libitum._ (With this an +ethnographical atlas, colored according to the colors of the three +families.) + +SECOND VOLUME. (Müller:) + +_First Division._ The _sentence-languages_ of Eastern Asia (Chinese). + +_Second Division._ The _Turanian_ word-languages in Asia and Europe. + +THIRD VOLUME. (Müller and Bunsen.) + +_First Division._ The _Hamitic-Semitic_ languages in Asia and Africa. +(Bunsen.) + +_Second Division._ The _Iranian_ languages in Asia and Europe. + +FOURTH VOLUME. (Müller.) + +The branching off of the Turanians and Hamites in Africa, America, and +Polynesia. + +_a._ The colony of East Asiatic Turanians in South Africa (great Kaffir +branch). + +_b._ The colony of North Asiatic Turanians (Mongolians) in North America. + +_c._ The Turanian colonies in South America. + +_d._ The older colonies of the East Asiatic Turanians in Polynesia +(Papuas). + +_e._ The newer ditto (light-colored Malay branch). + +Petermann or Kiepert would make the ethnographical atlas _beautifully_. I +have in the last few months discovered that the three Noachic families +were originally named according to the three colors. + +1. Ham is clear; it means _black_. + +2. Shem is an honorary name (the glorious, the famous), but the old name +is Adam, that is, Edom, which means _red_, reddish == φοίνιξ: this has +given me great light. The Canaanites were formerly called Edomi, and +migrated about 2850, after the volcanic disturbance at the Dead Sea +(Stagnum Assyrium, Justin, xviii. 3), towards the coast of Phœnicia, where +Sidon is the most ancient settlement, the first begotten of Canaan; and +the era of Tyre begins as early as 2760 (Herodotus, ii. 44). + +3. Japhet is still explained in an incredible way by Ewald according to +the national pun of Genesis x. as derived from Patah, “he who opens or +spreads.” It is really from Yaphat, “to be shining” == the light, _white_. + +It would certainly be the wisest plan for us to fall back on this for the +ethnographical atlas, at least for the choice of the colors; and I believe +it could easily be managed. For the _Semitic_ nations _red_ is naturally +the prevailing color, of a very deep shade in Abyssinia and Yemen; black +in negro Khamites, and a light shade in Palestine and Northern Arabia. For +the _Turanians_, _green_ might be thought of as the prevailing color. For +the _Iranians_ there remains _white_, rising into a bluish tint. But that +could be arranged for us by my genial cousin Bunsen, the chemist. + +That would be a work, my dearest M.! The genealogy of man, and the first +parable, rising out of the infinite. Were you not half Anglicized, as I +am, I should not venture to propose anything so “imperfect”—that is, +anything to be carried out in such unequal proportions. But this is the +only way in which it is possible to us, and, as I think, only thus really +useful for our Language-propaganda, whose apostles we must be “in hoc +temporis momento.” And now further, I think we should talk this over +together. I give you the choice of Heidelberg or Nice. We have resolved +(D. V.) to emigrate about the 1st of October, by way of Switzerland and +Turin, to the lovely home of the palm-tree, and encamp there till March: +then I should like very much to see _Sicily_, but at all events to run +through _Naples and Rome in April_; and then return here in the end of +April by Venice. It is _indescribably lovely_ here now; more enjoyable +than I have ever seen it. We shall take a house there, where I could get +into the open air four or five times every day. I fancy in the five +working months I could do more than in the eight dreary winter months +here. Much is already done, the _completion_ is certain. Were not Emma +(who has become inexpressibly dear to us) expecting her confinement about +the 21st of September we should already at this time break up from here, +in order to reach the heavenly Corniche Road (from Genoa to Nice) in the +finest weather. Theodore goes in ten days for a year to Paris. Of course +Emilia and the other girls go with us. They all help me in a most +remarkable way in my work. I thought of inviting Brockhaus here in the +summer to discuss with him the edition of the “Biblework.” Now we know +what we have in view. Now write soon, how you are and what _you_ have in +view. All here send most friendly greetings. Ever yours. + + + +[67.] + + +BURG RHEINDORF, NEAR BONN, _December 2, 1855._ + +MY DEAR FRIEND,—I think you must now be sitting quietly again in Oxford, +behind the Vedas. I send you these lines from George’s small but lovely +place, where we have christened his child, to stop, if possible, your +wrath against Renan. He confesses in his letter that “ma plume m’a trahi;” +he has partly not said what he thinks, and partly said what he does not +think. But his note is not that of an enemy. He considers his book an +homage offered to German science, and had hoped that it would be estimated +and acknowledged in the present position of French science, and that it +would be received in a friendly way. Though brought up by the Jesuits, he +is entirely free from the priestly spirit, and in fact his remarkable +essay in the “Revue des Deux Mondes” of the 15th of November on Ewald’s +“History of the People of Israel” deserves all our thanks in a +theological, national, and scientific point of view. We cannot afford to +quarrel unnecessarily with such a man. You must deal gently with him. You +will do it, will you not, for my sake? I am persuaded it is best. + +Brockhaus will bring out the third unaltered edition of my “Signs of the +Times,” as the 2,500 and the 1,000 copies are all sent out, and more are +constantly asked for. I have, whilst here, got the first half of the +“World-Consciousness” (Weltbewusstsein) ready to send off. The whole will +appear in May, 1856, as the herald and forerunner of my work on the Bible. +I have gone through this with H. Brockhaus, and reduced it to fifteen +delightful little volumes in common octavo, six of the People’s Bible, +with a full Introduction, and nine of the Key with higher criticism. I am +now expecting three printed sheets of the Bible, Volume I., the Key, +Volumes I. and VII. The fourth and fifth volumes of “Egypt” are being +rapidly printed at the same time for May. The chronological tables appear +in September. And now be appeased, and write again soon. George sends +hearty greetings. Thursday I shall be in Charlottenberg again. Heartily +yours. + + + +[68.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _March 10, 1856._ + +I should long ago have told you, my dearest friend, how much your letter +of last September delighted me, had I not been so plunged in the vortex +caused by the collision of old and new work, that I have had to deny +myself all correspondence. Since then I have heard from you, and of you +from Ernst and some travelling friends, and can therefore hope that you +continue well. As to what concerns me, I yesterday sent to press the MS. +of the last of the _three_ volumes which are to come out almost together. +Volumes III. and IV. (thirty-six sheets are printed) on the 1st of May; +Volume V. on the 15th of July. I have taken the bold resolution of +acquitting myself of this duty before anything else, that I may then live +for nothing but the “Biblework,” and the contest with knaves and +hypocrites in the interest of the faithful. + +In thus concluding “Egypt,” I found it indispensable to give _all_ the +investigations on the beginnings of the human race in a compressed form. +Therefore SET==YAHVEH and all discoveries connected with this down to +Abraham. Also the Bactrian and Indian traditions. I have read on both +subjects all that is to be found here; above all Burnouf (for the second +time), and Lassen’s “Indian Antiquities,” with _Diis minorum gentium_. I +find then in Lassen much which can be well explained by my discoveries in +the Egyptian, Babylonian, and Phœnician, but a huge chasm opens out for +everything concerning the Vedas. I find in particular nothing analogous to +the history of the Deluge, of which you most certainly told me. I +therefore throw myself on your friendship, with the request that you will +write out for me the most necessary points, so far as they do not exist in +Colebrooke and Wilson, which I can order from Berlin. (1.) On the Deluge +tradition; (2.) On the Creation of Man, if there is any; (3.) On the Fall +of Man; (4.) On recollections of the _Primitive Homes_ on the other side +of Meru and Bactria, if such are to be found. I know of course what Lassen +says. I do not expect much, as you know, from these enthusiastic +emigrants; but all is welcome. + +One must oppose with all one’s power, and in solemn earnest, such pitiful +nihilism and stupid jokes as Schwenk has made of the Persian mythology. I +have done this in the “Doctrine of Zoroaster;” I am to-day applying to +Haug about some _hard nuts_ in this subject. The number seven predominates +here also, of course, and in the symbolism depends on the time of each +phase of the moon; but the Amshaspands have as little to do with it as +with the moon itself. The Gahanbar resemble the six days of creation, if +the Sanskrit translation by Neriosengh (which I don’t understand) is more +to be trusted than the Vispered. But at all events there is an ideal +element here, which has been fitted in with the old nature worship. + +The sanctity of the Hom (havam?) must also be ideal, the plant can only be +a symbol to Zoroaster. Can it be connected with Om? As to the _date_, +Zoroaster the prophet _cannot_ have lived later than 3000 B. C. (250 years +before Abraham therefore), but 6000 or 5000 before Plato may more likely +be correct, according to the statements of Aristotle and Eudoxus. Bactria +(for that surely is Bakhdi) was the first settlement of the Aryans who +escaped from the ice regions towards Sogd. The immigration, therefore, can +hardly fall later than 10,000 or 9000 before Christ. Zoroaster himself +must be considered as _after_ the migration of the Aryans towards the +Punjab, for his demons are your gods. + +Now will you please let me have, at latest at Easter, what you can give +me, for on the 25th the continuation of the MS. must go off, and of this +the Indians form a part. + +I do not find the account by Megasthenes of Indian beginnings (Plinius and +Arrianus) at all amiss: the Kaliyuga computation of 3102 B. C. is purely +humbug, just like the statement about the beginning of the Chinese times, +to which Lassen gives credit. How can Herodotus have arrived at a female +Mithra, Mylitta? Everything feminine is incompatible with the sun, yet +nowhere, as far as I can see, does any deity corresponding to _Mater_ +appear among the Persians or Indians. Altogether _Mithra_ is a knotty +point in the system of Zoroaster, into which it fits like the fist into +the eye. + +And now I come to the subject of the inclosed Kuno Fischer has given a +most successful lecture in Berlin on Bacon, which has grown into a book, a +companion to Spinoza and Leibnitz, but much more attractive through the +references to the modern English philosophy and Macaulay’s conception of +Bacon. The book is admirably written. Brockhaus is printing it, and will +let it appear in May or at latest in June, about twenty-five sheets. He +reserves the right of translation. And now I must appeal to your +friendship and your influence, in order to find, 1st, the right +translator, and 2d, the right publisher, who would give the author £50 or +£100, for Fischer is dependent on his own resources. The _clique_ opposes +his appearance: Raumer has declared to the faculty that “a Privat-docent +suspended in any state of the Bund because of his philosophical opinions +which were irreconcilable with Christianity, ought not to teach in +Berlin.” The faculty defends itself. I have written public and private +letters to Humboldt, but what good does that do? Therefore it is now a +matter of consequence to enable this _very_ distinguished thinker and +writer, and remarkably captivating teacher (he had here 300 pupils in +metaphysics), to secure the means of subsistence. Miss Winkworth’s +publisher offered her £150 when she sent him the first chapter of my +“Signs;” Longmans half profits, that is—nothing! I only wish to have the +matter set going. The proof-sheets can be sent. + +Who wrote the foolish article in the “Quarterly” against Jowett? The book +will live and bear fruit. We are well, except that George has had scarlet +fever. Frances is nursing him at Rheindorf. Heartily yours. + +I have myself undertaken the comparison of the Aryan with the Semitic, on +Lassen’s plan. Two thirds of the stems can be authenticated. What a +scandal is Roth’s deciphering of the Cyprian inscriptions. Renan mourns +over the “Monthly Review,” but is otherwise very grateful. I have made use +of _your_ Alphabet in my “Egypt.” + + + +[69.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _March 12, 1856_. + +MY DEAREST M.,—You receive at once a postscript. I have since read W.’s +essay on the Deluge of the Hindús, in the second volume of the “Indian +Studies;” and can really say now that I understand a little Sanskrit, for +the essay is written in a Brahmanic jargon, thickly strewn with very many +German and French foreign terms. O, what a style! I am still to-day +reading _Roth_ (Münchener Gelehrte Anzeigen). I know therefore what is in +it; that is, a child’s tale which came to India from the Persian Gulf, or +at least from Babylonia, about Oannes, the man in the shape of a fish, who +gives them their revelation and saves them. Have you really nothing +better? It is just like the fable of Deucalion, from the backward-thrown +λᾶς, that is, stones! Or was it ἀπὸ δρυὸς ἥ ἀπὸ _πέτρας_? + +Faith in the old beliefs sits very lightly on all the emigrant children of +Japhet. Yet many historical events are clearly buried in the myths before +the Pâ_nd_avas. Wilson’s statement (Lassen, i. 479 n.) of the contents of +a Purâ_n_a, shows still a consciousness of those epochs. There _must_ be +(1) a dwelling in the primitive country (bordering on the ideal), quite +obscure, historically; (2) expulsion, through a change of climate; (3) +life in the land of the Aryans (Iran.); (4) migration to and life in the +Punjab. + +For the western Aryans and _for southern Europe_, there is another epoch, +between 6000 and 5000 B. C. at latest, namely, the march of the Cushite +(Turanian) Nimrud (Memnon?) by Susiana, and then across Northern Africa to +Spain. The discovery of Curtius, of the Ionians being Asiatics that had +migrated from Phrygia, who disputed with the Phœnicians for the world’s +commerce long before the colonies started from Europe, is _very_ +important. + +Write me word what you think of Weber’s Indian-Semitic Alphabet. + +I have to-day written to Miss Winkworth, to speak to the publisher. If he +will undertake it and pay Fischer well, both editions would appear at the +same time; and she must then come here in April, to make the translation +from the proof-sheets. The printing begins at Easter. + + + +[70.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _April 22, 1856_. (_Palilia anni urbis 2610._) + +So there you are, my worthy Don, sitting as a Member of Committees, etc.; +and writing reports, and agitating and canvassing _in Academicis_! This +delights me: for you have it in you, and feel the same longing, which +seized me at your age—to _act_ and to exert an influence on the God-given +realities of life. It inspirits me; for you, like me, will remain what you +are—a German, and will not become a “Philister.” + +I have missed _you_ here very much, even more than your answers to my +questions. No one escapes his fate: so I cannot escape the temptation to +try my method and my insight on indirect chronology. I confess that such +confusion I have not seen as that of these investigations hitherto beyond +Colebrooke and Wilson, Lassen and Duncker. Something can already be made +of Megasthenes’ accounts in connection with the Brahmanic traditions, in +the way cleared up by Lassen (in the “Journal”). I believe in the 153 +kings before Sandrokottus and the 6402 years. The older tradition does not +dream of ages of the world, the historical traditions begin with the +Tretâage, and point back to the life on the Indus; the first period is +like the divine dynasties of the Egyptians. The Kaliyuga is 1354 B. C., or +1400 if you like, _but not a day older_. The so called cataclysms “after +the universe had thrice attained to freedom” (what nonsense!) are nothing +but the short interregnums of freedom obtained by the poor Indian Aryans +between the monarchies. They are 200 + 300 + 120. And I propose to you, +master of the Vedas, the riddle, how do I know that the first republican +interregnum (anarchy, to the barbarians) was 200 years long? The Indian +traditions begin therefore with 7000, and that is the time of Zaradushta. +I find _many_ reasons for adopting _your_ opinion on the origin of the +Zend books. The Zoroastrians came out of India; but tell me, do you not +consider this as a _return migration_? The schism broke out on the Indus, +or on the movement towards the Jumna and lands of the Ganges. The dull, +intolerable Zend books may be as late as they will, but they contain in +the Vendidad, Fargard I., an (interpolated) record of the oldest movements +of our cousins, which reach back further than anything Semitic. + +About Uttara-Kuru and the like, you also leave me in the lurch; and so I +was obliged to see what Ptolemy and Co., and the books know and mention +about them. It seems then to me impossible to deny that the Ὀττοροκοροι is +the same, and points out the most eastern land of the old north, now in or +near Shen-si, the first home of the Chinese; to me the _eastern_ boundary +of _Paradise_. But how remarkable, not so much that the Aryans, faithful +people, have not forgotten their original home, but that the name should +be _Sanskrit_! Therefore Sanskrit in Paradise, in 10,000 or 9000. Explain +this to me, my dear friend. But first send me, within half an hour of +receiving these lines, in case you have them, as they assume here, +Lassen’s maps of India (mounted), belonging to my copy of the book, and +just now very necessary to me. You can have them again in July on the +Righi. Madame Schwabe is gone to console that high-minded afflicted +Cobden, or rather his wife, on the death of his _only_ son, whom we have +buried here. She passes next Sunday through London, on her return to her +children, and will call at Ernst’s. Send the maps to him with a couple of +lines. If you have anything else new, send it also. I have read with great +interest your clever and attractive chapter on the history of the Indian +Hellenic mind, called mythology. Does John Bull take it in? With not less +pleasure your instructive essay on “Burning and other Funereal +Ceremonies.” How noble is all that is really old among the Aryans! Weber +sent me the “Mâlavikâ,” a miserable thing, harem stories,—I hope by a +dissolute fellow of the tenth century, and surely not by the author of +“Sakuntala.” For your just, but sharply expressed and _nobly_ suppressed +essay against ——, a thousand thanks. I have to-day received the last sheet +of “Egypt,” Book IV., and the last but one of Book V. (a), and the second +of Book V. (b). These three volumes will appear on the 1st of June. The +second half of Book V. (b) (Illustrations, Chronological Tables, and +Index) I furnish subsequently for Easter, 1857, in order to have the last +word against my critics. + +Meanwhile farewell. + + + +[71.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _Wednesday, April 23, 1856_. + +It would be a great pleasure to you, my dear friend, if you could see the +enthusiasm of my reawakened love for India, which possessed me in the +years 1811-14, and which now daily overpowers me. But it is well that you +are not here, for I dare not follow the notes of the siren till I have +finished the “Signs of the Times,” and have the first volume of my five +books of the “Bible” before me. I see clearly, from my point of view, that +when one has the right frame, the _real facts_ of the Indian life can be +dug out from the exuberant wealth of poetry as surely as your Eros and the +Charites, and the deepest thoughts from their ritual and mythology. True +Germans and Anglo-Saxons are these Indian worthies. How grateful I am to +Lassen for his conscientious investigations; also to Duncker for his +representation of the history, made with the insight of a true historian. +But all this can aid me but little. I can nowhere find the materials for +_filling up my frame-work_; or, in case this frame-work should not itself +be accurate, for destroying it and my whole chapter. Naturally all are +ignorant of the time which precedes the great fable,—namely, the time of +the Vedas. + +And so I turn to you, with a request and adjuration which you cannot set +aside. I give you my frame-work, the _chronological canon_, as it has been +shaped by me. It is clear that we cannot depend on anything that stands in +the noble Mahâbhârata and the sentimental Râmâyana, as to kings and lines +of kings, unless it is confirmed by the Vedas; but they generally say the +very opposite. All corruptions of history by our schoolmen and priests are +but as child’s play compared to the systematic falsifying and destruction +of all history by the Brahmans. Three things are possible; (1) you may +find my frame-work _wrong_ because facts are against it; (2) you may find +it _useless_ because facts are missing; or (3) you may find the plan +correct, and discover facts to support and further it. I hope for the +last; but _every_ truth is a gain. My scheme is this: The poets of the +Veda have no chronological reckoning, the epic poets a false one. There +remain the Greeks. To understand the narrative of Megasthenes, one must +first restore the corrupted passages, which Lassen unfortunately has so +entirely misunderstood. + +Arr. Ind. ix., in Didot’s “Geographi,” i. p. 320: Ἀπὸ μὲν δὴ Διονύσου +(Svayambhû) βασιλέας ἠρίθμεον Ἰνδοὶ ἐς Σανδράκοττον τρεῖς καὶ πεντήκοντα +καὶ ἑκατὸν, ἔτεα δὲ δύο καὶ τεσσαρακόσια (instead of πεντήκοντα) καὶ +ἑξακισχίλια (6402, according to Pliny’s text, confirmed by all MSS., and +by Solinus Polyhist. 59; of Arrian we have but copies of one _codex_, and +the _lacuna_ is the same in all). + +Ἐν δὲ τούτοισι τρὶς ΙΣΤΑΝΑΙ (instead of τὸ πᾶν εἰς, Arr. writes only ἐς) +ἐλευθερίην (ἱστάναι is Herodotean for καθιστάναι, as every rational prose +writer would have put). + +ΤΗΝ ΜΕΝ ΕΣ ΔΙΑΚΟΣΙΑ. +τὴν δὲ καὶ ἐς τριακόσια, +τὴν δὲ εἴκοσί τε ἐτέων καὶ ἑκατόν. + +The restoration is certain, because the omission is explained through the +ὁμοιοτέλευτον, and gives a meaning to the καὶ. The sense is made +indubitable by Diodorus’ rhetorical rendering of the same text of +Megasthenes, ii. 38: τὸ δὲ τελευταῖον, πολλαῖς γενεαῖς ὕστερον +καταλυθείσης τῆς ἡγεμονίας δημοκρατηθῆναι τὰς πόλεις; cf. 39, ὕστερον δὲ +πολλοῖς ἔτεσι τὰς πόλεις δημοκρατηθῆναι. + +From this it follows that the monarchy was thrice interrupted by +democratic governments, and that there were _four_ periods. This is the +Indian tradition. But the whole was conceived as one history, doubtless +with a prehistoric ideal beginning, like our Manus and Tuiskon. Therefore, +no cosmic _periods_ (Brahmanical imposture), but four _generations_ of +Aryan history in India. + +The Kaliyuga is a new world, just as much as Teutonic Christendom, but no +more. The Indians will probably have commenced it A. D. 410, as friend +Kingsley too (in his “Hypatia”). Where is the starting-point? I hold to +1015 years as the chronological computation up to the time of the Nandas. + +For the Nandas, I hold to the 22 years. + +If they say that Kâlâṣoka and his ten sons reigned 22 years; and Nanda, +nine brothers in succession, 22 years; the 22 years is not wrong, either +here or there, but the 22 is correct and the ten kingly personages also, +for aught I care: but the _names_ are altered (and really to do away with +the plebeian Nanda), therefore it is neither 44, nor 88, nor 100 (which is +nothing), but + + 22 + —— +From Parikshit to the 1037 +year before Sandrakottus +Sandrak’s first year 312 317 +(?), 317 (?), 320 (?). I +have no opinion on the +point, therefore take the +middle number _about_ + —— +Beginning of the fourth 1354 B. C. +period +Interregnum, popular 120 +government + —— +End of the third period 1475 + +Nakshatra era 1476? (Weber, “Indian Studies,” ii. 240.) + +_This fourth period_ is that of the supremacy of the Brahmans in the +beginning, with its recoil in Buddha towards the end. + +In the year 1250 B. C. about the one hundredth year of the era, Semiramis +invaded India (Dâvpara). + +_Third period of the royal dynasties_, the great empire on the Jumna, not +far from the immortal Aliwal. Beginning with the _Dynasty of the Kurus_. +(Here the names of the kings and their works, as canals, etc. _Seat of the +empire_, the Duâb; Hastinapura, Ayodhyâ; or still on the Sarasvatî) + + 0 years +Interregnum between III. 300 +and II. (Must have left +its traces. A pasted up +break is surely there.) +_Second period of royal 0 years. +dynasties_ (Tretâ) + +(Is this the historical life in the Punjab, with already existing +kingdoms?) N. B. What is the third of the pure flames? Is it the people? +Atria, latria, patria? + +Interregnum between II. 200 years. +and I. + +_First period_. Beginning of the history after first _x_ years, with an +ideally filled up unmeasured period. + +Beginning: Manu 6402 + 317 + —— + 6719 B. C. + +Deduct from this a mythical beginning: a cycle of 5 × 12 = 60, or 600: at +most 60 × 60 = 3600, at least 12 × 60=720. Or about 6 kings of 400 years +each. Mean time: 2160. + +Total: 4559. + +(There remain, deducting 6 from 154 kings (with Dionysos), about 148.) + +Length of time: 4559 - 1354 = 3205 ÷ 148 = 21-1/2 mean number of years for +each historical government; which is very appropriate. + +Zoroaster lived, according to Eudoxus and Aristotle (compared with +Hermippos) 6350 or 6300 B. C. This points to a time of Zoroastrians +migrating towards India, or _having migrated, returning_ again. Accept the +latter, and the beginning of the 6402 years lies very near the first +period, and the Indianizing of the Aryans. Those accounts about Zoroaster +are (as Eudoxus already proves) _pre_-Alexandrian, therefore not Indian, +but Aryan. Do not the hymns of the Rig-veda, of which several are +attributed to the kings of the Tretâ period, contain hints on that schism? +If it really occurred in the Punjab some reminiscence would have been left +there of it. The Zend books (wretched things) only give negative evidence. + +The Brahmans of the most sinful period have of course smothered all that +is historical in prodigies, and _this_ wretched taste long appeared to the +Germans as _wisdom;_ whilst they despised the (certainly superficial) but +still sensible English researches of Sir W. Jones and Co., as +philistering! One must oppose this more inflexibly than even that +admirable Lassen does. (N. B. Has Colbrooke anything on this? or Wilson?) + +There may have been _two_ points of contact between the Aryans and the +kingdoms on the Euphrates _before_ the expedition of Semiramis. + +_a._ By means of the Zoroastrian Medo-Babylonian kingdom, which had its +capital in Babylon from 2234 B. C. (1903 before Alexander) for about two +centuries. + +_b._ In the oldest primitive times, by the Turanian-Cushite or North +African kingdom of Nimrod, which cannot be placed later than in the +seventh chiliad. The Egyptians had a tradition of this, as is proved +according to my interpretation by the historical germ in the story in the +Timæos of the great combat of Europe and Asia against the so-called +Atlantides: but these are uncertain matters. + +That is a general sketch of my frame-work. If you are able to do anything +with it, I make you the following proposition: You will send me an _open +letter_ in German (only without _your Excellency_, and as I beg you will +always write to me, as friend to friend), in which you will answer my +communication. Send me beforehand a few reflections and doubts for my +text, which I must send away by the 15th of May. Your open letter must be +sent in in June, if possible before the 15th, in order to appear before +the 15th of July as an Appendix to my text of Book V. b. (fourth division) +first half. _I_ can do nothing in the matter; everything here is wanting. +I cannot even find German books here. Therefore keep Lassen’s maps, if you +have them. I have in the mean time helped myself by means of Ritter and +Kiepert to find the old kingdoms and the sacred Sarasvatî. That satisfies +me for the present. + +Soon a sign of life and love to your sorely tormented but faithful B. + + + +[72.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _Sunday Morning, April, 27, 1856_. + +I have laid before you my restoration of the text of Megasthenes, and +added a few preliminary thoughts on the possibility of the restoration of +his traditions, and something of my restoring criticism. I have not +however been able to rest since that time, without going to the very +ground of the matter, to see if I am on a side-path, or on the right road. +I now send you the summary of the two chapters which I have written since +then. + +I. The restoration of the list of Megasthenes. (153 kings in 6402 years.) + +1. The list begins, like the Sanskrit tradition, with the first +generation; three interregnums presuppose four periods. + +2. The whole fourfold divided chronology is _one_: three sections of +_historical recollections_ lie before the Kali age. Lassen is therefore +wrong in saying that Megasthenes began with the Tretâ age. The progress of +the gradual extension of the kingdom is organic. + +3. The foundation of the whole tradition of the four periods of time are +the _genealogical registers of the old royal families_, which must if +possible be _localized_; of course with special reference to Magadha, +which however begins late. As in Egypt, every branch tried somewhere to +find its place; we must therefore throw away or mark all names not +supported by the legend (that is, the Vedic traditions). The contemporary +dynasties must be separated from those that follow each other. + +4. Each period was divided from the preceding by an _historical_ fact,—a +dissolution followed by a subjugation or a popular government. The first +is divided from the second by Herakles—K_r_ish_n_a. The third from the +second by Râma, the extirpator of the heroes and royal races (great rising +of the people). The fourth from the third by purely historical +revolutions, caused or fostered by the Assyrian invasion. + +5. The mythical expression for these periods is _one thousand years_. + +6. The historical interregnums are 200, 300, 120. + +7. As both are the same, therefore 3 × 1000 years vanish, and there remain +but the 620. + +8. Therefore Megasthenes’ list: + +Megasthenes’ list 6402 + 3000 + —— +Kings from the first 3402 years. +patriarch to Sandrakottus +Interregnums 620 + —— + 4022 + +FIRST PERIOD. + +A. Aryan recollections. Megasthenes’ list unites the traditions of the +Moon-race (Budha) with that of the Sun-race (direct from Manu). + +(1.) Questions. First question. What do the names Ayus and Yayâti mean? Is +Nahusha = man? + +(2.) I know king Ikshvâku, _i.e._, the gourd. Who are the Asuras, +conquered by P_r_ithu? + +(3.) Anu, one of the four sons of Yayâti, is the North, not the Iranian, +nor the Turanian, which is Turvasa, but the Semitic, _i.e._, _Assur_. Anu +is the chief national god of the Assyrians, according to the cuneiform +inscriptions. The cradle of the old dynasty was therefore called +Telanu==hill of Anu. Salmanassar is called Salem-anu, _i.e._, face of Anu. + +B. Indian primitive times. + +1. Manu (primitive time) 1000 +2-14. Thirteen human 468 +kings in the Punjab, each +reigns on an average +thirty-six years +15. K_r_ish_n_a, 1000 +destruction + +2468 years, representing really only 268 + 200 years, with an unknown +quantity representing Aryan migrations and settlements in the Punjab. + +(4.) Question. Is Jones’ statement correct in his chronology (Works, i. +299), that the fourth Avatâr must be placed between the first and second +periods? + +SECOND PERIOD. + +The kingdom of the Puru, and the Bharata kings. Royal residence, province +of the Sarasvatî. Epos, the Râmâyana. + +A. _Period from Puru to Dushyanta_. + +Conquests from the Sarasvati on the north, and to Kalinga (Bengal) on the +south. Conquerors: Tansu, Ilina, Bharata, Suhôtra (all Vedic names). + +B. _Period of destruction through the Pañ_k_âlas._—A_g_amî_dh_a (Suhôtra’s +son, according to the unfalsified tradition) is the human _Râma_, the +instrument of destruction. + +(5.) Question. Why is he called in Lassen, i. 590, the son of Rikshu? +(This is another thousand years.) + +_R_iksha is called in M. Bh. (Lassen, xxiii. note 17) son of A_g_amî_dh_a, +and in another place, _wife_ of A_g_amî_dh_a, or both times _wife_! + +THIRD PERIOD. + +The Kurus; the Pañ_k_âlas; the Pâ_nd_avas. Seats in Middle Hindostan. +Advance to the Vindhya (Epos, the Mahâbhârata of the third period, as the +Râmâya_n_a of the second). + +A. Kingdoms of the Kurus. + +B. Kingdom of the Pa_ñk_âlas. Contemporary lists; but the Pañ_k_âlas +outlast the Kurus. Both are followed by— + +C. Kingdom of the Pâ_nd_avas. + +Ad. A. From Kuru to Devâpi who retires (that is, is driven away), +_S_ântanu, Bahlîka, the Bactrian (?), there are eleven reigns. Then the +three generations to Duryodhana and Ar_g_una. + +Parikshit represents the beginning of the Interregnum. + +The list in the Vish_n_u-purâ_n_a of twenty-nine kings, from Parikshit to +Kshemaka, with whom the race becomes extinct in the Kali age, does not +concern us. + +They are the lines of the pretenders, who did not again acquire the +throne. The oldest list is probably only of six reigns; for the son of +_S_atânîka, the third V. P. king of this list, is also called Udayana +(Lassen, xxvi. note 23), and the same is the name of the twenty-fifth +king, the son of _S_atânîka II. Therefore B_r_ihadratha, Vasudâna, and +Sudâsa (21, 22, 23) are likewise the last of a Parikshit line. But they do +not count chronologically. + +FOURTH PERIOD. + +The kingdom of Magadha. Chronological clews for Megasthenes. The first +part of the Magadha list preserved to us (Lassen, xxxi.) from Kuru to +Sahadeva is an unchronological list of collateral lines of the third +period, therefore of no value for the computation of time. The Kali list +of Magadha begins with Somâpi to Ripun_g_aya, 20 kings. The numbers are +cooked in so stupid a way that they neither agree with each other nor are +possible. One can only find the right number from lower down. + +_Restoration of the Chronology._ + +Kali II. Pradyota, five 138 years. +kings with +Kali III. Saisunâga, ten 360 years. +kings with +Kali IV. Nanda, father 22 years. +with eight or nine sons + —— +Kali V. Kandragupta king 317 B. C. + —— + 837 years. + +If one deducts these 837 years from 1182, the first year of the Kali age, +there remain 345 years for the twenty kings from Somâpi to Ripun_g_aya +(First Dynasty), averaging 17-1/2 years. (That will do!) I adopt 1182 +years, because 1354 is _impossible_, but 1181 is the historical +chronological beginning of a kingdom in Kashmir. Semiramis invaded India +under a _Sthavirapati_ (probably only a title), about 1250. This time must +therefore fall in the interregnum (120 years, after Megasthenes). The +history of the war with Assyria (Asura?) is smothered by pushing forward +the Abhîra, that is, the Naval War on the Indus (Diodorus). + +I pass over the approximate restoration of the first three periods. I have +given you a scanty abstract of my treatise, which I naturally only look +upon as a _frame-work_. But if the _frame-work_ be right, and of this I +feel convinced, if I have discovered the true grooves and the system—then +the unfalsified remains of traditions in the Vedas must afford further +confirmation. The Kali can be fixed for about 1150/1190 by powerful +synchronisms. The three earlier ages can be approximately restored. One +thus arrives, by adding 200 + 300 + 120 (=620) to each of the earlier and +thus separated periods, to the beginning of the Tretâ (foundation of the +_Bharata kingdom_ beginning with Puru). This leads to the following +computation. + +I. Anarchy before Puru 200 years. +II. From Puru to 200 years. +Bharata’s father, 10 +reigns of 20 years +From Bharata to 120 years. +A_g_amîdha’s son, 6 +reigns +End of II. 300 years. + —— +III. From Kuru to Bahlika 200 years. +(migration towards +Bactria?) 10 reigns +(Parikshit) apparently 120 years. +6-7 reigns + —— +End of the oldest Indian 1340 years. +kingdom, before Kali + 1182 years. + —— +Beginning of Tretâ = 1100 years. +2522 B. C. (2234 +Zoroaster invaded Babylon +from Media) Second +dynasties in Babylon + —— + 3622 years. + +We have still to account for the time of the _settlement in the Punjab_ +and formation of kingdoms there. This gives as the beginning approximately += 4339 B. C. + +And now I am very anxious to hear what you have made out, or whether you +have let the whole matter rest as it is. I have postponed everything, in +order to clear up the way as far as I can. I shall try to induce Weber to +visit me in the Whitsun holidays, to look into the details for me, that I +may not lay myself open to attack. Before that I shall have received +Haug’s _entirely_ new _translation of the first Fargard_, which I shall +print as an Appendix, with his annotations. My _Chinese_ restoration has +turned out _most_ satisfactory. + +I may now look forward to telling them: (1.) The rabbinical chronology is +false, it is impossible; it has every tradition opposed to it, most of all +so the biblical—therefore away with it! (2.) Science has not to _turn +back_, but now first to press really forward, and to restore: the question +is not the fixing of abstract speculative formulas, but the employing of +speculation and philology for the _reconstruction of the history of +humanity_, of which revelation is only a portion, though certainly the +centre if we believe in our moral consciousness of God. + +This is about what I shall say, as my last word, in the Preface to the +sixth volume of “Egypt.” Volumes IV. and V. _are_ printed. _Deo soli +gloria._ + + + +[73.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _May 22, 1856._ + +MY DEAR FRIEND,—H. R. H. the Prince Regent, who starts for England +to-morrow, wishes to see Oxford, and _quietly_ and _instructively_. I +therefore give these lines to his private secretary, Herr Ullmann, that he +may by letter, or (if the time allows) by word of mouth, apply to you, to +fix _a day_. Herr Ullmann is the son of the famous Dr. U., the present +prelate and chief church-councilor, and a man of good intentions. + +I have at last gone in for Vedic and Bactrian chronology, after having had +Dr. Haug of Bonn with me for eight days. He translated and read to me many +hymns from your two quartos (which he does very fluently), and a little of +Sâyana’s commentary. By this and by Lassen and Roth, and yours and Weber’s +communications, I believe I have saved myself from the breakers, and I +hold my proofs as established:— + +That the oldest Vedas were composed 3000-2500 B. C., and that everything +else is written in a learned dead Brahmanical language, a precipitate of +the Veda language, and certainly _very late_: scarcely anything before 800 +B. C. + +Manu takes his place after Buddha. + +The ages of the world are the miserable system of the book of Manu, and +nothing more than evaporated historical periods. These epochs can be +restored not by the aid, but in spite of the two epics and their +chronology. + +Petermann sends me a beautiful map. The routes and settlements of the +Aryans from their primitive home to the land of the five rivers (or rather +seven). + +Haug has worked out all the fourteen names. Kabul and Kandahar are hidden +amongst them. I hope he will settle in the autumn with me, and for the +next few years. + +In haste, with hearty thanks for your affectionate and instructive +answers. God bless you. + +P. S. I shall take the liberty of sending you, about the 1st of July, the +first five sheets of my _Aryans_, before they are printed off, and ten +days later the remaining three or four, and beg for your instructive +remarks on them. + + + +[74.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _July 17, 1856_. + +MY DEARLY LOVED FRIEND,—Yesterday evening at half-past seven o’clock I +wrote off my _last chapter_ of “Egypt’s Place” for press, and so the work +is finished, the first sheets of which were sent to Gotha from London in +1843, the chief part of which however was written in 1838-39. You will +receive the two new volumes (Books IV., V. a) in a fortnight; they will be +published to-day. Of the third volume (the sixth of the German editions), +or V. (b), twelve sheets are printed, and the other eighteen are ready, +except a few sheets already at Gotha, including the index to I. to V. (a). +I am in the main satisfied with the work. + +You are the first with whom I begin paying off my debts of correspondence; +and I rejoice that I can take this opportunity to thank you for all the +delightful news which your last dear letter (sent by that most amiable +Muir) conveyed to me; especially for the completion of the _third big +volume of the Rig-veda_, and for the happy arrival of your mother and +cousin, which has doubtless already taken place. You know it was a letter +from the _latter_, which first told me _of you_, and made me wish to see +you. And then you came _yourself_; and all that I prophesied of you after +the first conversation in London and your first visit in the country, has +been richly fulfilled—yes, beyond my boldest hopes. You have won an +honorable position in the first English university, not only for yourself +but for the Fatherland, and you have richly returned the love which I felt +for you from the first moment, and have faithfully reciprocated a +friendship which constitutes an essential portion of my happiness. I +therefore thank you all the more for all the love and friendship of your +last letters. I can only excuse myself _by my book_ for not having sooner +thanked you. I soon perceived that _you were quite right_, that the +chronological researches on Indian antiquity have led to nothing more sure +than the conviction that the earlier views, with few exceptions, were +wrong or without foundation. As soon as I acquired this conviction, +through reading the last works on the subject (Lassen and Roth), I grew +furious, as it happens to me from time to time, and at the same time +reawoke the longing after the researches which I had to lay aside in 1816, +and which I now determined to approach again, in the course of my work, +which is chronological in the widest sense. After I had read all that is +written, I let Haug come to me in the Whitsun holidays. He brought with +him the translation I wished for of the _First Fargard of the Vendidad_; +and you can imagine my delight, when in Books XII. and XIII. he discovered +for me (purely linguistically) the two countries, the non-appearance of +which was the _only_ tenable counter-reason which opposed itself to the +intuition to which I had held fast since 1814—namely, that this document, +so ancient in its primitive elements, contained nothing less than the +history of the gradual invasion, founding of states, and peopling of Asia +by the Aryans. How could Kandahar and Kabul be missing if this were true? +Without the least _suspicion_ of this historical opinion, Haug proved to +me that they are not wanting. Petermann will make the whole clear in a +little map, such as I showed him. You will find it in the sixth volume. +Then he rejoiced my heart by translating some _single hymns of the +Rig-veda_, especially in Book VII., which I found threw great light on the +God-Consciousness, the faith in the moral government of the world. _He +comes to me_: from the 1st of August he is free in Bonn, and goes for the +Zend affairs to Paris, marries his bride in Ofterdingen, and comes here to +me on the 1st of October for _Mithridates_ and the Old Testament, the +printing of which begins in January, 1857, with the _Pentateuch_. With him +(in default of your personal presence) I have now gone through everything +at which I arrived with regard to the period of the entry of the Aryans +(4000 B. C.) in the Indus country (to which Sarasvatî does not belong—one +can as easily count seven as five rivers from the eastern branch of the +upper Indus to the west of the Satadru), and with regard to the difficult +questions of the connection of these migrations with Zoroaster. That is, I +_must_ place Zoroaster _before_ the emigration; on the march (from +5000-4000) the emigrants gradually break off. Three heresies, one after +another, are mentioned in the record itself. The not exterminated germs of +the nature-worship (with the adoration of fire) spring up again, but the +moral life remained. (1.) Therefore the Veda language is to me the +precipitate of the Old Bactrian (as the Edda language of the Old Norse). +(2.) The _Zend language_ is the second step from the Northern Old +Bactrian. (3.) The Sanskrit is one still further advanced from the +Southern Old Bactrian, or from the Veda language. (4.) All _Indian +literature_, except the Vedas, is in the New South Bactrian, already +become a learned language, which has been named the perfect or Sanskrit +language. The _epochs of the language_ are the three _great historical +catastrophes_. + +A. _Kingdom in the region of the Indus._—4000-3000. The Veda language as a +living popular language. + +B. _Second Period._—On the Sarasvatî and in the Duâb. The Veda tongue +becomes the learned language. Sanskrit is the _popular_ language, +3000-2000. + +C. _Third Period._—Sanskrit _begins_ to be the learned language, at least +at the end. + +D. Kali=1150 B. C. Sanskrit merely the learned language. + +Therefore the oldest Vedas, the purely popular, cannot be younger than +3000; the _collection_ was made in the third period, the tenth book is +already in chief part written in a _dead language_. You see all depends on +whether I can authenticate the four periods with their three catastrophes; +for a new form of language presupposes a political change. Forms such as +Har-aqaiti I can explain just as that the Norwegian names of places are +younger than the corresponding Icelandic forms; in the colony the old +remains as a fixed form, in the mother country the language progresses. + +For what concerns now seriously the _Mythology_, your spirited essay +opening the way was a real godsend, for I had just arrived at the +conviction which you will find expressed in the introduction to Book V. +(a): That the so-called nature-religion can be nothing but the _symbol_ of +the primitive consciousness of God, which only gradually became +independent (through misunderstanding) and which already lies prefigured +in organic speech. P——, K—— and Co., are on this point in great darkness, +or rather in utter error. _You_ have kept yourself perfectly free from +this mistake. I however felt that I must proclaim what is positively true +far more sharply, and have drawn the outlines of a method which is to me +the more convincing, as it has stood the test of the whole history of old +religion. For in taking up the Aryan investigations, I closed the circle +of my historical mythological inquiry. What will _you_ say to this? For I +have written the whole especially for you, to come to an understanding +with you. I arrive at the same point which you aim at, but without your +roundabout way, which is but a make-shift. But in the fundamental +conception of nature-religion, we do certainly agree altogether. If you +come to Germany, you will find here with me the proof-sheets of Book V.(b) +(about pages 1-200) which treat of this section, as well as the analysis +of the table of the Hebrew patriarchs. They will be looked through before +Haug’s journey to Paris and mine to Geneva (August 1), and will be +therefore all struck off when I return here on the 23d August. + +Your essay holds a beautiful place in the history of the subject. The work +on that section gave me inexpressible delight, and a despaired-of gap in +my life is filled up, as far as is necessary for my own knowledge; and I +believe too not without advantage to the faithful. + +How disgraceful it is that we do not instinctively understand the Veda +language, when we read it in respectable Roman letters, with a little +previous grammatical practice! Your Veda Grammar will be a closed book to +me, as you print in the later Devanagari goose-foot character. Haug shall +transliterate for me the grammatical forms into _your_ alphabet. He is a +noble Suabian, and much attached to me; also a great admirer of yours. + +My “God-Consciousness” is printed (thirty-two sheets), twenty are +corrected (and fought through with Bernays). This work, too, will be +carried through the second revise before my journey. I wonder myself what +will come of the work. Its _extent_ remains unaltered (three volumes in +six books), but its contents are ever swelling. I hope it _will take_. I +shall strike the old system _dead forever_, if we do not go to ruin; of +this I am sure; therefore I must all the more lay the foundations of the +new structure in the heart, the conscience, and the reason. + +O! what a hideous time! God be praised, who made us both free. So also is +Carl now, through his official efficiency and his happy marriage. The +wedding will take place in Paris between the 9th and 15th October. We +shall go there. + +I take daily rides, and was never better. Please God I shall finish the +“God-Consciousness” (II. and III.) between the 25th August and the end of +October (the third volume is nearly ready), and then I shall take up the +“Biblework,” the proof-sheets of which lie before me, with _undivided_ +energy. The contract with Brockhaus is concluded and exchanged. I shall +perhaps come to England in October, 1857; that is to say _with_ the first +volume of the Bible, but _not without_ it. + +Neukomm and Joachim have been with us for six weeks, which gave us the +greatest enjoyment. Neukomm returns here at the end of August. + +My children promise me (without saying it) to meet here for the 25th +August, to introduce the amiable bride to me. I am rejoicing over it like +a child. + +Why do you not make a journey to the Neckar valley with your mother and +cousin? My people send hearty greetings. With true love, yours. + +I am purposely not reading your Anti-Renan all at once, that I may often +read it over again before I finish it. I think it is admirably written. +Perhaps a distinguished philologist, Dr. Fliedner (nephew of the head of +the Deaconesses), may call on you. He has been highly recommended to me, +and is worthy of encouragement. What is Aufrecht about? I cannot cease to +feel interested about him. + + + +[75.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _October 7, 1856_. + +Yesterday, my dearest friend, I sent off the close of the last volume of +“Egypt,” together with the printed sheets 13-19, and at the same time to +Brockhaus the last two revised sheets of the “God in History,” Volume I.; +and to-day I have again taken up the translation of the Bible (Exodus), +with Haug and Camphausen—that is, Haug arrived the day before yesterday. +(Between ourselves, I hope Bernays is coming to me for three years.) How I +should have liked to show you these sheets, 13-19 (the Bactrians and +Indians and their chronology). You will find in them a thorough discussion +of your beautiful essay (which has been admired everywhere as a perfect +masterpiece), not without some shakings of the head at K—— and B——. In +fact I have gone in for it, and by New Year’s Day you shall have it before +you. This, with the journey to Switzerland and three weeks of +indisposition afterwards, are an excuse for my silence. + +It always gives me great and inexpressible pleasure when you _talk_ to me +by letter and _think aloud_. And this time I have been deeply touched by +it. I am convinced you have since then yourself examined the +considerations which oppose themselves to your bold and noble wish with +regard to the Punjab. What would become of your great work? I will not +here say what shall we in Europe do without you? Also; do you mean to go +_alone_ to Hapta Hendu, or as a married man? There you will never find a +wife. And would your intended go with you? And the _children_? All +Englishmen tell me it is just as unbearably hot in Lahore as in Delhi; in +_Umritsir_ there is no fresh air. No Sing goes to Cashmir because he who +reigns there would soon dispatch him out of the world at the time of the +fever. + +By the by, what has become of your convert? Does he still smoke without +any scruple? + +Your gorgeous Rig-veda at Brockhaus’ frightens people here because of its +extent (they would have given up the Sanhita, satisfied with various +readings) and the exorbitant price. Others would willingly have had your +own Veda Grammar besides the Indian grammatical treatise, especially on +account of the Vedic forms. In fact you are admired, but criticised. You +must not allow this to annoy you. I find that Haug thinks about the +mythology nearly as I do. + +Everything in Germany resolves itself more and more into pettinesses and +cliques, and the pitiful question of subsistence. “The many princes are +our good fortune, but poverty is our crime.” Had not _Brunn_ offered +himself to take Braun’s place, giving up his private tutorship, we must +have given up the Archæological Institute at Rome! With difficulty Gerhard +has found _one_ man in Germany who could undertake the Italian printing of +the “Annali” (appearing, as you know, in Gotha). “Resta a vedere se lo +può!” All who can, leave Prussia—and only blockheads or hypocrites are let +in, with the exception of physical science; whoever can do so turns +engineer, or goes into a house of business, or emigrates. My decided +advice on this account therefore is, reserve yourself for better times, +and stay at present in England, where you have really won a delightful +position for yourself. + +Now for various things about myself. Every possible thing is done to draw +me away from here (my third capitol, the first of my own). The King quite +recently (which I could not in the least expect) received me here at the +railway station, in the most affectionate way, and demanded a promise from +me that I would pay him a visit within a year and a day. But I have once +for all declared myself as the “hermit of Charlottenberg,” and hermits and +prophets should stay at home. I do not even go to Carlsruhe and Coblentz. +_Cui bono?_ What avails good words, without good deeds? But the nation is +not dead. Don’t imagine that. Before this month is out you will see what I +have said on this subject in the Preface to the “God in History.” Within +six to ten years the nation will again be fit to act. Palmerston will cut +his throat if nothing comes of the Neapolitan business, and just the same +if he cannot make “a good case;” the principle of intervention even +against Bomba is self-destruction for England, and disgraceful in the +highest degree. The _fox_ cannot begin war in Italy at _the present +moment_ from want of money, and his accomplices are afraid of losing their +stolen booty. So he tries to gain time. He will still live a few years. + +I have seen ——: he knows a great deal more than he allows to appear, but +is the driest, and most despairing Englishman I have ever seen. He has +suffered shipwreck of everything on the Tübingen sand bank. The poor +wretches! Religion and theology without philosophy is bad; philosophy +without philosophy is a monster! So Comte is a trump-card with many in +Oxford! He is so in London. What a fall of intellect! what a decay of +life! what an abyss of ignorance! Jowett is a living shoot, and will +continue so; but John Bull is my chief comfort, even for my “God in +History.” America is my greatest misery after my misery for Germany; but +the North _will_ prove itself in the right. + +With hearty greetings of truest attachment and love to your mother, truly +yours. + +We expect George on the 18th. Ernst is here. + + + +[76.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _January 29, 1857_. + +You have really inflicted it on me! For though I have but one leg to stand +upon (I cannot _sit_ at all), as the other has been suffering for four +days from sciatica (let Dr. Acland explain that to you, whilst you at the +same time thank him heartily for his excellent book on the cholera), still +I am obliged to place myself at the desk, to answer my dear friend’s +letter, received yesterday evening in bed. The last fortnight I have daily +thought of you incessantly, and wished to write you a dunning letter, at +the same time thanking you for the third volume of the Veda, which already +contains some hymns of the seventh book, as the admiring Haug read it out +to me. Out of this especially he promises me a great treasure for my Vedic +God-Consciousness, without prejudice to what the muse may perhaps prompt +you to send me in your beautiful poetical translation; for my young +assistant will have nothing to do with that. You will certainly agree with +him, after you have read my first volume, that much is to be found in that +Veda for the centre of my inquiries; the consciousness in the Indian +Iranians of the reality of the divine in human life. I find in all that +has yet come before me, almost the same that echoes through the Edda, and +that appears in Homer as popular belief; the godhead interferes in human +affairs, when crime becomes too wanton, and thus evil is overcome and the +good gains more and more the upper hand. Of course that is kept in the +background, when despair in realities becomes the keynote of the +God-Consciousness, as with the Brahmans, and then with the much-praised +apostles of annihilation, the Buddhists. You are quite right; it is a pity +that I could not let the work appear all at once, for even you +misunderstand me. When I say “_we_ cannot pray with the Vedas and Homer +and their heroes, not even with Pindar,” I mean, we as worshippers, as a +community; and that you will surely allow. Of course the thoughtful +philosopher can well say with Goethe, “worship and liturgy in the name of +St. Homer, not to forget Æschylus and Shakespeare.” But that matter is +nevertheless true in history without any limitation. I have only tried it +with Confucius, but it is more difficult; it is as if an antediluvian +armadillo tried to dance. + +But what will my Old Testament readers say when I lead them into the glory +of the Hellenic God-Consciousness? Crossing and blessing themselves won’t +help! My expressions therefore in the second volume are carefully +considered and cautiously used. But the tragedy of my life will be the +fourth book. Yet I write it, I have written it! + +You are quite right about the English translation; all the three volumes +at once, and the address at the beginning. But you must read the second +book for me. It is no good saying you don’t understand anything about it. +I have made it easy enough for you. I have asserted nothing simply, +without making it easy for every educated person to form his own opinion, +if he will only reflect seriously about the Bible. The _presuppositions_ +are either as good as granted, or where anything peculiar to me comes in, +I have in the notes justified everything thoroughly, although apparently +very simply. Take the Lent Sundays for this, and you will keep Easter with +me, and also your amiable mother (from whom you never send me even a word +of greeting). + +But now, how does it fare with “Egypt?” The closing volume, which, as you +know, I wrote partly out of despair, because you would not help me, and in +which I most especially thought of you, and reckoned on your guiding +friendship, must surely now be in your hands (the two preceding volumes, +of course, some time ago). Why don’t you read them? + +I am not at all easy at what you tell me about yourself and your feelings; +even though I feel deeply that you do not quite withdraw your inmost +thoughts from me. But why are you unhappy? You have gained for yourself a +delightful position in life. You are getting on with your gigantic work. +You (like me) have won a fatherland in England, without losing your German +home, the ever excellent. You have a beautiful future before you. You can +at any moment give yourself a comfortable and soul-satisfying family +circle. If many around you are Philisters, you knew that already; still +they are worth something in _their_ own line. Only step boldly forward +into life. Then Heidelberg would come again into your itinerary. + +One thing more this time. I have not received Wilson’s translation. I +possess both the first and second volumes. Has he not continued his useful +work? What can I do to remind him of the missing part? The third volume, +too, must contain much that is interesting for me. + +I cannot forget Aufrecht. Is he free from care and contented? The family +greet you and your dear mother. We expect Charles and his young wife next +week. Ernst is, as you will know, back at Abbey Lodge. With unaltered +affection. + + + +[77.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _April 27, 1857_. + +The month is nearly over, my dear friend, before the close of which I +must, according to agreement, deliver up my revised copy of the amendments +and additions to the English edition of my “Egypt.” (They are already +there.) I hoped that in this interval you would have found a little +leisure (as Lepsius and Bernays have done, who sent me the fruits of their +reading already at the beginning of the month, in the most friendly way) +to communicate to me your criticisms or doubts or thoughts or corrections +on that which I have touched on in your own especial territory, as I had +expressly and earnestly begged you to do. I have improved the arrangement +very much. As you have not done this, I can only entertain one of two +disagreeable suppositions, namely, that you are either ill or out of +spirits, or that you have only what is disagreeable to say of my book, and +would rather spare yourself and me from this. But as from what I know of +you, and you know of me, I do not find in either the one or the other +supposition a sufficient explanation of your obstinate silence, I should +have forced myself to wait patiently, had I not to beg from you alone a +small but indispensable gift for my “God in History.” + +I have again in this interregnum taken up the interrupted studies of last +year on the Aryan God-Consciousness in the Asiatic world, and thanks to +Burnouf’s, yours, Wilson’s, Roth’s and Fausböll’s books, and Haug’s +assistance and translations, I have made the way easy to myself for +understanding the two great Aryan prophets Zaraduschtra and Sākya, and (so +far as that is possible to one of us now) the Veda; and this not without +success and with inexpressible delight. My expectations are far exceeded. +The Vedic songs are by far the most glorious, which in first going through +that fearful translation of Wilson’s, seemed to wish to hide themselves +entirely from me. The difficulties of making them intelligible, even of a +bare translation, are immense; the utter perverseness of Sâya_n_a is only +exceeded by that of Wilson, to whom however one can never be grateful +enough for his communications. I now first perceive what a difficult but +also noble work you have undertaken, and how much still remains doubtful; +even after one has got beyond the collectors and near to the original +poets. It is as if of the Hebrew traditions we only had the Psalms, and +that without an individual personality like David, without, in fact, any +one; on the contrary, allusions to Abraham’s possible poems and the +cosmical dreams of the Aramæans. But yet how strong is the feeling of +immediate relation to God and nature, how truly human, and how closely +related to our own! What a curious similarity to the Edda, Homer, and +Pindar, Hesiod, and the Hellenic primitive times! Nothing however gave me +greater delight than the dignity and solemnity of the funeral ceremonies, +which you have made so really clear and easy to be understood. This is as +yet the only piece of _real life_ of our blood relations in the land of +the five rivers. I have naturally taken possession of this treasure with +the greatest delight, and perfected the description for my problem by the +explanation of Yama (following on the whole Roth, who however overlooks +the demiurgic character), of the Ribhus (departing entirely, not only from +Nève’s mistaken views, but also from what I have read elsewhere, +representing them as the three powers which divide and form matter, +namely, Air, Water, and Earth, to whom the fourth, Agni, was joined under +the guidance of Tvash’ar), and of the funeral ceremonies as the condition +of the laws of inheritance; where I return to my own beginning. And here +it strikes me at once that in the Vedas, so far as they are accessible to +me, there is not a trace to be found of the _joining together of the three +generations_ (the departed and his father and grandfather), and making +them the unity of the race through the sacrificial oblations. And yet the +_idea_ must be older than the Vedas, as this precise, though certainly not +accidental limitation is found with Solon and the Twelve Tables, just as +clearly as with Manu and all the books of laws, and the commentaries +collected by Colebrooke. You would of course have mentioned this in your +account if anything of the sort had existed in the tenth book. But even +the Pitris, the fathers, are not mentioned, but it passes on straight to +Yama the first ancestor. Haug, too, has discovered nothing; if you know +anything about it, communicate it to me in the course of May, for my +second volume goes to press on the 1st June. I shall read it aloud to +George and Miss Wynn here, between the 25th and 31st. + +But my real desire is that you should send me one of your melodious and +graceful metrical translations of _your_ hymn, “Nor aught nor nought +existed.” I must of course give it (it belongs with me to the period of +transition, therefore, comparatively speaking, late); and how can I +venture to translate it? I have, to be sure, done so with about five +poems, which Haug chose for me out of the first nine books, and translated +literally and then explained them to me; as well as with those which I +worked out of Wilson’s two first volumes by the help of Roth and Haug. But +that is _your_ hymn, and I have already written my thanks for your +communication in my MS. and then left a space. That good Rowland Williams +thinks it theistic, or at all events lets one of the speakers say so. + +Rowland Williams’ “Christ and Hinduism” has been a real refreshment to me, +in this investigation of the Indian consciousness of God in the world. The +mastery of the Socratic-Platonic dialogue, the delicacy and freedom of the +investigation, and the deep Christian and human spirit of this man, have +attracted me more than all other new English books, and even filled me +with astonishment. Muir, that good man, sent it me through Williams and +Norgate, and I have not only thanked him, but Williams himself, in a full +letter, and have pressingly invited him for his holidays to our little +philosophers’ room. It is an especial pleasure to me that Mary and John, +whose neighbor he is in summer, have appreciated him, and loved and prized +him, and Henry also. + +Henry will bring me “Rational Godliness.” This book, English as it is, +should be introduced into India, in order to convert the followers of +Brahma and the English Christians! One sees what hidden energy lies in the +English mind, as soon as it is turned to a worthy object, but for this of +course the fructifying influences of the German spirit are required. I +have, on the contrary, been much disappointed by G——’s communication +contained in Burnouf’s classical works, on that most difficult but yet +perfectly soluble point of the teaching of Buddha, the twelve points +“beginning with ignorance and ending with death.” G—— leaves the rational +way even at the first step, and perceives his error himself at the ninth, +but so far he finds Buddha’s (that is his own) proofs unanswerable. How +totally different is Burnouf. He is fresh, self-possessed, and clear. I +can better explain why William von Humboldt went astray on this subject. +But I have already gossiped too much of my own thoughts to you. Therefore +to Anglicis. + +What are you about in Oxford? According to Haug’s account you have abused +me well, or allowed me to be well abused in your “Saturday Review,” which +passes as yours and Kingsley’s mouthpiece. If it were criticism, however +mistaken, but why personal aspersions? Pattison’s article on the +“Theologia Germanica” in the April number of the “Westminster Review” is +very brave, and deserves all thanks. He has learnt to prize Bleek: in all +respects he has opened himself more to me in the last few weeks, and I +like him. But the man who now writes the survey of foreign literature in +the “Westminster Review” might have just _read_ my book: this he cannot +have done, or else he is a thorough bungler; for he (1) understands me +only as representing the personal God (apparently the one in the clouds, +as you once expressed it, _a-straddle_, riding) and leaving out everything +besides; (2) that the last twenty-seven chapters of the book of Isaiah are +not, as one has hitherto conceived, written by one man, but by Jeremiah, +although he is already the glorified saint of the 53d chapter, _and_ by +Baruch. Now thank God that the sheet is finished, and think occasionally +in a friendly way of your true friend. + +I shall to-day finish the ante-Solonic God-Consciousness of the Hellenes. +That does one good. + + + +[78.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _Friday, May 8, 1857_. + +I must at least begin a letter to you to-day, because I feel I must thank +you, and express my delight at the letter and article. The _letter_ +confirms my fears in the highest degree, namely, that _you are not well_, +not to say that you begin to be a hypochondriacal old bachelor. But that +is such a natural consequence of your retired sulky Don’s life, and of +your spleen, that I can only wonder how you can fight so bravely against +it. But both letter and article show me how vigorous are both your mind +and heart. It is quite right in you to defend Froude, though no one better +knows that the general opinion is (as is even acknowledged by members of +the German romantic school) that Shakespeare intentionally counteracted +the corrupt instinct and depraved taste of his nation in the matter of +Oldcastle. Whatever strange saints there have been in all countries, yet +the Wycliffites, true to their great and noble master, were martyrs, and +Milman has insisted on this most nobly. To misapprehend Wyeliffe himself, +that is, not to recognize him as the first and purest reformer, the man +between the Waldenses, Tauler, and Luther, is, however, a heresy more +worthy of condemnation than the ignoring of Germany in the Reformation, +and doubly deplorable when one sees such blind faith in the bloody +sentences of that most miserable court of judgment of Henry VIII. I must +therefore invert your formula thus, “L’histoire romanique (romantique) ne +vaut pas le Roman historique.” (I am not speaking of “Two Years Ago,” for +I only began to read the book yesterday.) _But_ I am very glad that you +think so highly of Froude personally, and therefore this matter does not +disturb me. On the other hand, I rejoice without any _but_, that you have +taken up Buddha so lovingly and courageously. (Do you know that extracts +from the article have found their way into the papers, through “Galignani” +as “Signs of the Times.”) You will soon see how nearly we agree together, +although I cannot say so much of the humanizing influence of Buddhism: it +makes of the Turanians what the Jesuits make of the people of Paraguay, +“praying machines.” In _China_ the Buddhists are not generally respected; +in _India_ they could not maintain their position, and would with +difficulty convert the people, if they tried to regain their lost ground. +But Buddha, _personally_, was a saint, a man who felt for mankind, a +profound man. I have said in my section, “Buddha has not only found more +millions of followers than Jesus, but is also even more misunderstood than +the Son of Mary.” Have you read _Dhammapadam_? What is the authority for +Buddha’s “Ten Commandments?” I have always considered this as an invention +of Klaproth’s, confirmed by Prinsep. I do not find them on Asoka’s +pillars, nor in that didactic poem; on the contrary, four or five _ad +libitum_. I shall, however, now read the sermons of the (really worthless) +convert Asoka at the fountain head, from Sprenger’s library. + +You have represented the whole as with a magic wand. We really _edified_ +ourselves yesterday evening with it. Frances read aloud, and we listened; +and this morning early my wife has made it into a beautiful little book in +quarto, with which I this afternoon made _Trübner_ very happy for some +hours. He is a remarkable man, and is _much_ devoted to you, and I have +entered into business relations with him about my “Biblework,” the first +volume of which goes to press on the 1st of January; the other six stand +before me as far finished as they can be, till I have the printed text of +“The People’s Bible” in three volumes before me, on which the “Biblical +Documents,” three volumes, and the “Life of Jesus and the Eternal Kingdom +of God,” one volume, are founded. He appears to me to be the right +negotiator between America, England, and Germany. He will before long call +on you some Saturday. (Write me word how you think of him as a +bookseller.) The duty you pay for your place, by putting together a +Chresthomathy, is very fair; whether you are obliged to print your +Lectures I cannot decide. I shall curse them both if they prevent you from +tearing yourself away from the Donnish atmosphere and bachelor life of +Oxford, and from throwing yourself into the fresh mental atmosphere of +Germany and of German mind and life. You must take other journeys besides +lake excursions and Highland courses. Why don’t you go to Switzerland, +with an excursion (by Berlin) to Breslau, to the German Oriental Congress? +There is nothing like the German spirit, in spite of all its +one-sidedness. What a _lœta paupertas_! What a recognition of the +sacerdocy of science! And then the strengthening air, free from fog, of +our mountains and valleys! You bad fellow, to tell me nothing of your +mother’s leaving you, for you ought to know that I am _tenderly_ devoted +to her; and it vexes me all the more, as I should long ago have sent her +my “God in History,” had I known that she was in Germany. (Query where? +Address?) Therefore fetch her, instead of luring her away to the walks +under the lime-trees. _George_ is going too at the end of June from here +to the Alps; we expect him in a fortnight. He is a great delight to me. + +Now something more about Yama. I think you are _perfectly_ right with +regard to the origin. It is exactly the same with _Osiris_, the husband of +Isis, the earth, and then the judge of the dead and first man. Only we do +not on this account explain _Anubis_ as a _symbol of the sun_, but as the +watchful Dog of Justice, the accuser. So there are features in Yama (and +Yima) which are not to be easily explained from the cosmogonic conception, +although they can be from the idea of the divine, the first natural +representation of which is the astral one. I think, however, that Yama is +Geminus, that is “the upper and lower sun,” to speak as an Egyptian. _The +two dogs_ must originally have been what their mother the old bitch Saramâ +is; but with the God of Death they are something different, and the lord +of the dead is to be as little explained by the so-called nature-religion +_without returning to the eternal factor_, as this first phase itself +could have arisen without it as cosmical—_therefore_, as first symbol. How +I long for your two translations! The hymn which you give in the article +is _sublime_: the search after the God of the human heart is expressed +with indescribable pathos; and how much more will this be the case in your +hands in a new Indian translation! For we are most surely now the Indians +of the West. I am delighted that you so value Rowland Williams. We must +never forget that he has undertaken (as he himself most pointedly wrote to +me) the difficult task “to teach Anglican theology (and that to Anglican +Cymri).” He has not yet quite promised to pay me a visit,—he is evidently +afraid of me as a German and freethinker, and is afraid “to be +catechised.” He, like all Englishmen, is wanting in _faith_. He seems to +occupy himself profoundly with the criticism of the Old Testament. Poor +fellow! But he will take to Daniel. + +The Harfords are determined to keep him there, in which Henry has already +encouraged them. I, however, think he _ought_ to go to Cambridge if they +offer him a professorship. Muir has written to me again,—an honest man; +but he has again taken a useless step, a prize, for which Hoffmann +(superintendent-in-general) is to be the arbiter; and the three judges +will be named by him, Lehnert as theologian (Neander’s unknown successor), +H. Ritter as the historian of philosophy (very good,—and who as +_Orientalist_)! No magister will touch his pen, _his ducibus_ and _tali +auspicio_. You should perform the Benares vow by a catechism drawn up for +the poor young Brahmans in the style of Rowland Williams, and yet quite +different, that is, in your own manner, telling and short. At all events, +no one in Germany will write half as good a book for the Brahmans as +Williams has done. The Platonic dialogue requires a certain breadth, +unless one is able and willing to imitate the Parmenides. At the same time +the ordinary missionaries may convert the lower classes through the Gospel +and through Christian-English-German life, in which alone they prove their +faith. By the by, it seems that Williams hopes for an article from you in +the “North British Review.” That you intend to read my “Egypt” is +delightful; only not in the Long Vacation, when you ought to travel about. +Have you read the friendly article on “God in History” in the “National +Review” (April), which however certainly shows an ignorance bordering on +impudence. Even the man in the “Westminster Review” pleases me better, +although he looked through my book fast asleep, and puts into my mouth the +most unbelievable discoveries of his own ignorance,—Isaiah chapters +xlix.-lxvi. are written by _Jeremiah_ and _Baruch_, and similar horrors! +When will people learn something? But in four years I hope, with God’s +help, to state this, in spite of them, and force them at last to learn +something through “the help of their masters and mine.” With true love, +yours. + + + +[79.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _Friday Morning, August 28, 1857_. + +See there he remains in the centre of Germany for a month, and lets one +hear and see nothing of him! Had I not soon after the receipt of your dear +and instructive letter gone to Wildbad, and there fallen into +indescribable idleness, I should long ago have written to Oxford; for the +letter was a great delight to me. The snail had there crept out of his +shell and spoke to me as the friend, but now “Your Excellency” appears +again; so the snail has drawn his head in again. + +Now, my dear friend, you ought to be thanked for the friendly thought of +paying me a visit, and writing to me. Therefore you must know that I +returned here on the 19th, in order to greet, in his father’s native +country, Astor, my now sixty-three years old pupil, who proposed himself +for the 20th to the 25th, and who for my sake has left his money-bags in +order to see me once again. And now Astor is really in Europe, and has +called at Abbey Lodge; but his wife and granddaughter have stayed on in +Paris or Brussels, and Astor is _not_ yet here. This, however, has no +effect on my movements, for I do not accompany him to Switzerland, where, +I know, Brockhaus would send a hue and cry after me. + +That the Oxford Don should ask him if I would afford him a “few hours,” +shows again the English leaven. For you well know that my hermit’s life is +dear to me for this reason,—that it leaves me at liberty to receive here +the Muses and my friends. And what have we not to talk over? The “hours” +belong to the Don’s gown; for you know very well that we could in a “few +hours” only figure to ourselves _what_ we have to discuss by turns. So +come as soon as you can, and stay at least a week here. You will find my +house to be sure rather lonely, as Henry has robbed me of the womankind, +and Sternberg of Theodora; and that excellent princess keeps Emilia from +me, who is faithfully nursing her benefactress in an illness that I hope +is passing away. We two old people are, however, here and full of old +life. Perhaps you will also still find Theodore, who, however, soon after +Astor’s departure will be hurrying off to Falmouth for sea-bathing, in +acceptance of his brother Ernst’s invitation. Laboulaye has announced +himself for the 8th; Gerhard and his wife for the first or second week in +September; therefore, if you do find any one, they will be friends. +Besides Meyer, there is Dr. Sprenger, the Arabic scholar, as house friend, +whose library I have at last secured for us,—a delightful man, who is my +guide in the Arabian desert, so that I may be certain of bringing the +children of Israel in thirty months to the Jabbok, namely, in the fifth of +the eight volumes. + +I can give you no better proof of my longing to see you than by saying +that you shall _even_ be welcome without your mother, who is so dear and +unforgotten to us all, although we by no means give up the hope that you +will bring her with you here. For I _must_ see her again in this life. I +ought to have thanked her before this for a charming letter, but I did not +know _where_ she had gone from Carlsbad; her son never sent me the +address. Should she _not_ come with you, you must pay toll for the delay, +which, however, must not be longer than one year, with a photograph, for I +_must_ soon see her. + +So you have looked at my Genesis! I am pleased at this. But I hope you +will look at the chapters once again, when they are set _in pages_, after +my last amendments; also at my discussions on Genesis i. 1-4, ii. 4-7, as +i. and ii. of the thirty thorns (in the Appendix, p. cxxxv.) which I have +run into the weak side of the Bible dragon, though less than one thirtieth +of its heaviest sins. I feel as if I had got over three quarters of the +work since I sent the eleven chapters and the thirty thorns into the +world. My holidays last till the 21st of October. Haug is in the India +House, over Minokhired and Parsi Bundehesh. If you have a moment’s time, +look at my quiet polemic against you and Burnouf in favor of Buddha, in +reference to the Nirvâna. Koeppen has given me much new material, although +he is of your opinion. I am quite convinced that Buddha thought on this +point like Tauler and the author of the “German Theology;” but he was an +Indian and lived in desperate times. A thousand thanks for the dove which +you sent me out of the ark of the Rig-Veda. I had sinned against the same +hymn by translating it according to Haug, as I had not courage enough to +ask you for more. And that leads me to tell you with what deep sympathy +and melancholy pleasure your touching idyl has filled me. You will easily +believe me that after the first five minutes I saw you vividly behind the +mask. I thank you _very much_ for having ordered it to be sent to me. I am +very glad that you _have_ written it, for I would far rather see you +mixing in the life of the present and future, with your innate freshness +and energy. I must end. All love from me and Fanny to your incomparable +mother. So to our speedy meeting. Truly yours. + +George will have arrived in London yesterday with wife and child; his +darling Ella has a serious nervous affection, and they are to try sea air. +He is much depressed. + + + +[80.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _February 17, 1858_. + +Your affectionate letter, my dear friend, has touched me deeply. First +your unaltered love and attachment, and that you have perfectly understood +me and my conduct in this affair. Naturally my fate will be very much +influenced by it. I must be _every year_ in Berlin: this year I shall +satisfy myself with the last three weeks after Easter. In 1859 (as I shall +spend the winter in Nice) I shall take my seat, when I return in April +across the Alps. But later (and perhaps from 1859) I must not only live in +Prussia, which is prescribed by good feeling and by the constitution, but +I must stay for some time in Berlin. They all wish to have me there. God +knows how little effort it costs me not to seek the place of Minister of +Instruction, to say nothing of declining it, for everything is daily going +more to _ruin_. But it could only be for a short time, and +Bethmann-Hollweg, Usedom, and others can do the right thing just as well, +and have time and youth to drag away the heavy cart of a Chinese order of +business, which now consumes nine tenths of the time of a Prussian +minister (who works twelve hours a day). + +What I wish and am doing with my “Biblework,” _you_ will see between the +lines of my first volume; other people, twelve months later, when my first +volume of the Bible documents “comes out:” and even then they will not see +where the concluding volume tends,—the world’s history in the Bible, and +the Bible in the world’s history. Already in the end of 1857 I finished +all of the first volume: the stereotyping goes on fearfully slow. You will +receive one of the first copies which goes across the Channel; and you +will read it at once, will you not? I am delighted that you are absorbed +in _Eckart_: he is the key to Tauler, and there is nothing better, _except +the Gospel of St. John_. For there stands still more clearly than in the +other gospel writings, that the object of life in this world is to _found +the Kingdom of God on earth_ (as my friends the Taipings understand it +also). Of this, Eckart and his scholars had despaired, just as much as +Dante and his parody, Reineke Fuchs. You will find already many pious +ejaculations of this kind in my two volumes of “God in History;” but I +have deferred the closing word till the sixth book, where _our_ tragedy +will be revealed, in order to begin boldly with a new epos. I send you +to-day four sheets by book-post, “The Aryans in Asia;” for I cannot finish +it without your personal help. You will find that you have already +furnished a great portion of the matter. The same hymn which I translated +with difficulty and trouble from Haug’s literal translation (in strophes +which you however do not recognize?) (Ps. li.), you have translated for +me, in your own graceful manner, on a fly-sheet, and sent to me from +Leipzig. Of course I shall use this translation in place of my own. I +therefore venture to request that you will do the same with regard to the +other examples which I have given. If you wish to add anything _new_, it +will suit perfectly, for everything fits in at the end of the chapter: the +number of the pages does not come into consideration in the present stage. +You will receive the leaves on Saturday; it would be delightful if you +could finish them in the course of the following week, and send them back +to me. (We have a contract here with France, which gives us a sort of +book-post.) I expect next week the continuation of the Brahmanism and +Buddha. I should like to send both to you. The notes and _excursus_ will +only be printed at the close of the volume, therefore not before May. The +rest (Books V., VI.) will be printed during the summer, to appear before I +cross the Alps. In this I develop the tragedy of the Romano-Germanic +world, and shall both gain many and lose many friends by it. I have read +your brilliant article on Welcker with great delight. I possess it. Have +you sent it (if only anonymously) to the noble old man? He has deserved +it. The article makes a great noise, and will please him very much. In +fact, everything would give me undisturbed pleasure, did I not see (even +without your telling me, which, however, you have done, as is the sacred +duty between friends) that you are not happy in yourself. Of _one_ thing I +am convinced,—you would be just as little so, _even less_, in Germany, and +least of all among the sons of the Brahmans. If you continue to live as +you do now, you would everywhere miss England,—perhaps also Oxford, if you +went to London. Of this I am not clear: in general a German lives far more +freely in the World-city than in the Don-city, where every English +idiosyncrasy strengthens itself, and buries itself in coteries. +Unfortunately I have neither read “Indophilus” nor “Philindus:” please +tell me the numbers of the “Times.” I can get a copy of the “Times” here +from the library from month to month. Trevelyan is an excellent man, +occasionally unpractical and mistaken, always meaning well and accessible +to reason. But does any one _study_ in London? _Dubito!_ But I don’t +understand the plan of an Oriental College. Perhaps it is possible to +undertake London without giving up Oxford entirely. The power of +influencing the young men, who after ten or twenty years will govern the +land, is far greater in Oxford or Cambridge than in London. I am curious +about your “German Reading Book.” + +I maintain one thing,—you are not happy; and that comes from your bachelor +life. The progress of your Vedic work delights me: but how much in it is +still a riddle! Thus, for instance, the long hymn (2 Ash_t_aka, third +Adhyâya, Sûkta viii. CLXIV.) p. 125. The hymn is first of all, as can be +proved, beyond verse 41 _not genuine_; but even this older portion is +late, surely already composed on the Sarasvatî. The Veda is already a +finished book (verse 39), Brahma and Vish_n_u are gods (35, 36). The whole +is really wearisome, because it wishes to be mysterious without an idea. +(See 4 Ash_t_aka, seventh Adhyâya, vol. iii. p. 463.) Is not Brahma there +a god like Indra? + +I depend on your marking all egregious blunders with a red pencil. Many +such must still have remained, leaving out of view all differences of +opinion. Tell me as much as you can on this point in a letter, for on the +Continent only notes for press are allowed to go as a packet. (But of +these you can bring in as much as you wish: the copy is a duplicate.) At +the end I should much like to write something about the present +impossibility of enjoying the Rig-Veda, and of the necessity of a +spiritual key. But I do not quite know, first of all, whether one can +really enter upon the whole: there is much that is conventional and mortal +by the side of what is imperishable. An anthology in about two or three +volumes would find a rapid sale, and would only benefit a more learned and +perfect edition. If you have arrived at the same conclusion, _I will blow +the trumpet_. + +George greets you heartily, as do his mother and sisters. Perhaps I shall +move in April, 1859, to Bonn; _here_ I shall _not_ stay. _Deus +providebit._ With truest affection, yours. + +Best remembrance to your mother. Have you read my preface to “Debit and +Credit?” I have poured out my heart about Kingsley in the Introduction to +the German “Hypatia,” and told him that everybody must say to himself, +sooner or late, “Let the dead bury the dead.” + + + +[81.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _July 31, 1858_. + +With threefold joy, my loved friend, have I heard the news through your +great admirer Mme. Schwabe, of your charming intention of delighting us in +August with a visit. _First_, on account of the plan itself: _then_ +because I can now compress into a few lines the endless letter I have so +long had in my thoughts, to develop it in conversation according to my +heart’s desire; _thirdly_, because really since yesterday the day has come +when the one half of the concluding volume (iii.) of “God in History” has +gone to press, so that its appearing is secured. A letter to you, and a +like debt to Lepsius, therefore open the list. And now before anything +else receive my hearty _thanks_ for your friendly and instructive letter, +and what accompanied it _in Vedicis_. It came just at the right time, and +you will see what use I made of it in the work. + +And now here first come my _congratulations_. Nothing could be more +agreeable and suitable; it is personally and nationally an honor, and an +unique acknowledgment. I can only add the wish that you may enjoy the +dignity itself as short a time as possible, and take leave as soon as +possible of the Fellow-celibates of All Souls’. Your career in England +wants nothing but this crowning-point. How prosperous and full of results +has it been! Without ceasing to be a German, you have appropriated all +that is excellent and superior in English life, and of that there is much, +and it will last for life. I imagine you will bring your historical +_Chrestomathy_ with you, and propose to you, as you most probably give +something out of the Heliand and Ulphilas, to reserve my Woluspa for the +next edition, as I have just established the first tenable text of this +divine poem, on which the brothers Grimm would never venture. I have had +this advantage, of working on the good foundation of my studies (with a +Danish translation) of 1815 from Copenhagen. Neither Magnusson, nor Munch, +nor Bergmann has given the text of the only MS. (Cod. Regius); one has +disfigured it with the latest interpolations, another with unauthorized +transpositions. I have at last worked out the unity of the Helgi and the +Sigurd songs with each other, and the oldest purely mythological stratum +(the solar tragedy) of both, as an important link in the chain of +evidence, for the reality of the God-Consciousness of mankind and its +organic laws. What people will say to the “results” (Book VI.) which fall +into one’s hands, I do not know. + +I have been obliged to postpone the journey to Italy from September to +November. October (the 23d) is the great crisis for Prussia, and I ought +not to forsake the Fatherland then, and have willingly agreed not to do +so. A brighter, better day is approaching. May God give his blessing. +Every one must help; it is the highest time. + +But nothing disturbs me from the work of my life. The fourth volume of the +“Biblework” goes to press the day after to-morrow; on the 1st of +September, the fifth (Documents I. a). I have now finished _my_ +preliminary work for the Old Testament in the main points, and only +reserved the last word before the stereotyping; so I begin at once on the +New Testament and Life of Jesus. The friendly and clever notice of the +first volume of the “Biblework” in the “Continental Review” gave me and my +whole family _great pleasure_: and Bernays is here since yesterday (for +August and September), which helps the printing of the Pentateuch very +much, as I always sent him a last revise, and now all can be worked off +here. I finish with Haug in the beginning of September; he will go +probably to Poonah with his very sensible bride. Charles and Theodore are +well. I expect George this week with Emilia for a visit. My family greet +you. Bernays sighs. He has again made some _beautiful discoveries_; that +of Aristotle (about the tragedies) I have carried further philosophically. +Suggest to that good Arthur Stanley (to whom I have sent my “Biblework”) +to send me his “Palestine.” I cannot get it here, and should like to say +something about it. + +With most true love, yours. + + + +[82.] + + +CHARLOTTENBERG, _July 23, 1859_. + +My sons knew too well what delight they would give me through their +confidential communication, which has already given us all a foretaste of +the delight of your visit with your bride, and meanwhile has brought me +your expected and affectionate letter. + +I have felt all these years what was the matter with you, and I sympathize +with your happiness as if it concerned one of my own children. I therefore +now, my loved friend, wish you all the more happiness and blessing in the +acquisition of the highest of life’s prizes, because your love has already +shown the right effect and strength, in that you have acquired courage for +finishing at _this present time_ your difficult and great work on the +Vedas. The work will also give you further refreshment for the future, +whilst the editing of the Veda still hangs on your hands. + +Therefore let us all wish you joy most heartily (my wife has received the +joyful news in Wildbad), and accept our united thanks beforehand for your +kind intention of visiting us shortly with your young wife. By that time +we shall all be again united here. Your remarkable mother will alone be +wanting. Beg your bride beforehand to feel friendly towards me and towards +us all. You know how highly I esteem her two aunts, though without +personal acquaintance with them, and how dear to me is the cultivated, +noble, Christian circle in which the whole family moves. I have as yet +carried out my favorite plan with a good hope of success; six months in +Charlottenberg on the true spiritually historical interpretation of the +Old Testament, in the first volumes of the second division of the work +(the so-called documents); six months of the winter on the “Life of +Jesus,” and what in my view immediately joins on to that. The first volume +of the Bible documents is printed, _the Pentateuch_. You will see that I +have handled Abraham and Moses as freely here as I did Zoroaster and +Buddha in my last work; the explanation of the books and the history from +Joram to Zedekiah is as good as finished. + +We shall keep peace; Napoleon and Palmerston understand each other, and +Palmerston is the _only_ statesman in England and Europe who conceives +rightly the Italian question. Russia follows him. I still hope by the +autumn to be able to bless the God of free Italy beside Dante’s and +Machiavelli’s graves. With us (Prussia) matters move fairly forwards; here +they have been fools, and begin to feel ashamed of themselves. So a speedy +and happy meeting. + +Your heartily affectionate friend, + +BUNSEN. + + + + + + +FOOTNOTES + + + 1 This article formed the preface to a collection of extracts + published in 1858, under the title of _German Classics_. The + extracts are arranged chronologically, and extend from the fourth to + the nineteenth century. They are given in the original Gothic, Old + High-German, and Middle High-German with translations, while in the + more modern portions the difficult words only are explained in + notes. A list of the principal works from which the extracts are + taken will be found at the end of the article, p. 44. + + 2 “Ut easdam homilias quisque (episcopus) aperte transferre studeat in + _rusticam romanam_ linguam aut _theodiscam_, quo facilius cuncti + possint intelligere quæ dicantur.”—Conc. Tur. can. 17. Wackernagel, + _Geschichte der Deutschen Literatur_, § 26. + +_ 3 Lateinische Gedichte des X. und XI. Jahrhunderts_, von J. Grimm und + A. Schmeller. Göttingen, 1838. + +_ 4 Reinhard Fuchs_, von Jacob Grimm. Berlin, 1834. _Sendschreiben_, an + Karl Lachmann. Leipzig, 1840. + +_ 5 Poems of Grave Ruodolf von Fenis, Her Bernger von Horheim_; see + _Des Minnesangs Frühling_, by Lachmann and Haupt. Leipzig, 1857. + + 6 Poem of the _Kürenberger_; see _Des Minnesangs Frühling_, pp. 8 and + 230. + + 7 See an account of the _Italian Guest_ of Thomasin von Zerclaria by + Eugene Oswald, in _Queene Elizabethe’s Achademy_, edited by F. J. + Furnivall. London, 1869. This thoughtful essay contains some + important information on Thomasin. + +_ 8 Des Minnesangs Frühling._ Herausgegeben von Karl Lachmann und + Moritz Haupt. Leipzig, 1857. + + 9 Sebastian Brant’s _Narrenschiff_. Herausgegeben von Friedrich + Zarncke. Leipzig, 1857. + +_ 10 Rede auf Schiller_, von Jacob Grimm. Berlin, 1859. (Address on + Schiller, by Jacob Grimm.) + + _Schiller-Buch_, von Tannenberg; Wien. From the Imperial Printing + Press, 1859. + + _Schiller’s Life and Works._ By Emil Palleske. Translated by Lady + Wallace. London, Longman and Co., 1860. + + _Vie de Schiller._ Par Ad. Regnier, Membre de l’Institut. Paris, + Hachette, 1859. + + 11 See _The Times’_ Special Correspondent from Vienna, November 14. + + 12 The Prince of Holstein-Augustenburg was the grandfather of the + present Duke and of Prince Christian of Schleswig-Holstein. + + 13 Preface to a new edition of Wilhelm Müller’s poems, published in + 1868, in the _Bibliothek der Deutschen National-literatur des + achtzehnten und neunzehnten Jahrhunderts._ Leipzig, Brockhaus. + Translated from the German by G. A. M. + + 14 “Free, and strong, and pure, and German, + On the German Rhine, + Nothing can be now discovered + Save alone our wine; + If the wine is not a rebel, + Then no more are we; + Mainz, thou proud and frowning fortress, + Let him wander free!” + + 15 “And let me have my full glass, and let me have my hearty laugh at + these wretched times! He who can sing and laugh with his wine, you + need not put under the ban, my lords: mirth is a harmless child.” + + 16 “Europe wants but peace and quiet: why hast thou disturbed her + rest? + How with silly dreams of freedom dost thou dare to fill thy breast? + If thou rise against thy rulers, Hellas, thou must fight alone, + E’en the bolster of a Sultan, loyal Europe calls a throne.” + + 17 I am enabled through the kindness of Mr. Theodore Martin to supply + an excellent translation of these two poems, printed by him in 1863, + in a volume intended for private circulation only. + + 18 Ptol. ii. 11, ἐπὶ τὸν αὐχένα τῆς Κιμβρικῆς Χερσονήσου Σάξονες. + + 19 Grimm, _Geschichte der Deutschen Sprache_, p. 609. Strabo, Pliny, + and Tacitus do not mention the name of Saxons. + + 20 Grimm, l. c. p. 629. + + 21 See _Poeta Saxo_, anno 772, in Pertz, Monum. I. 228, line 36; Grimm, + l. c. p. 629. + + 22 See Grimm, _Deutsche Sprache_, p. 781. + +_ 23 Germania_, c. 40. Grimm, l. c. p. 604. + + 24 Grimm, p. 641. + + 25 Beda, _Hist. Eccl._ I. 15. “Porro de Anglis, hoc est, de ilia patria + quæ Angulus dicitur,” etc. Ethelwert, Chron. I., “Porro Anglia vetus + sita est inter Saxones et Giotos, babens oppidum capitale, quod + sermone Saxonico Sleswic nuncupatur, secundum vero Danos, + _Haithaby_.” + + 26 Grimm, l. c. p. 630. + + 27 “Guti vero similiter cum veniunt (in regnum Britanniæ) suscipi + debent, et protegi in regno isto sicut conjurati fratres, sicut + propinqui et proprii cives regni hujus. Exierunt enim quondam de + nobili sanguine Anglorum, scilicet de Engra civitate, et Angliei de + sanguine illorum, et semper efficiuntur populus unus et gens una. + Ita constituit optimus Ina Rex Anglorum.... Multi vero Angli + ceperunt uxores suas de sanguine et genere Anglorum Germaniæ, et + quidam Angli ceperunt uxores suas de sanguine et genere Scotorum; + proceres vero Scotorum, et Scoti fere omnes ceperunt uxores suas de + optimo genere et sanguine Anglorum Germaniæ, et itu fuerunt tunc + temporis per universum regnum Britanniæ duo in carne una.... + Universi prædicti semper postea pro communi utilitate coronæ regni + in simul et in unum viriliter contra Danos et Norwegienses semper + steterunt; et atrocissime unanimi voluntate contra inimicos + pugnaverunt, et bella atrocissima in regno gesserunt.” (_Die Gesetze + der Angelsachsen_, ed. Schmid, p. 296.) + + 28 Klaus Groth writes: “The island of Friesian speech on the continent + of Schleswig between Husum and Tondern is a very riddle and miracle + in the history of language, which has not been sufficiently noticed + and considered. Why should the two extreme ends only of the whole + Friesian coast between Belgium and Jutland have retained their + mother-speech? For the Ost Friesians in Oldenburg speak simply + Platt-Deutsch like the Westphalians and ourselves. Cirk Hinrich + Stüremburg’s so called Ost-Friesian Dictionary has no more right to + call itself Friesian than the Bremen Dictionary. Unless the whole + coast has sunk into the sea, who can explain that close behind + Husum, in a flat country as monotonous as a Hungarian Pussta, + without any natural frontier or division, the traveller, on entering + the next inn, may indeed be understood if he speaks High or Low + German, nay, may receive to either an answer in pure German, but + hears the host and his servants speak in words that sound quite + strange to him? Equally strange is the frontier north of the + Wiede-au, where Danish takes the place of Friesian. Who can explain + by what process the language has maintained itself so far and no + farther, a language with which one cannot travel beyond eight or ten + square miles? Why should these few thousand people not have + surrendered long ago this ‘useless remnant of an unschooled + dialect,’ considering they learn at the same time Low and High + German, or Low-German and Danish? In the far-stretching, straggling + villages a Low-German house stands sometimes alone among Friesian + houses, and _vice versa_, and that has been going on for + generations. In the Saxon families they do not find it necessary to + learn Friesian, for all the neighbors can speak Low-German; but in + the Friesian families one does not hear German spoken except when + there are German visitors. Since the seventeenth century German has + hardly conquered a single house, certainly not a village.” + (_Illustrir__te__ Deutsche Monatshefte_, 1869, p. 330.) + +_ 29 Histoire de St. Louis_, par Joinville. Texte rapproché du Français + Moderne par M. Natalis de Wailly, Membre de l’Institut. Paris, 1865. + + _Œuvres de Jean Sire de Joinville_, avec un texte rapproché du + Français Moderne, par M. Natalis de Wailly. Paris, 1867. M. Natalis + de Wailly has since published a new edition of Joinville, _Histoire + de Saint Louis_, par Jean Sire de Joinville, suivie du Credo et de + la lettre à Louis X.; texte ramené à l’orthographe des Chartes du + Sire de Joinville. Paris, 1868. He has more fully explained the + principles according to which the text of Joinville has been + restored by him in his _Mémoire sur la Langue de Joinville_. Paris, + 1868. + + 30 See Paulin Paris, p. 175. + + 31 In his last edition of the text of Joinville, which was published in + 1868, M. de Wailly has restored the spelling of Joinville on all + these points according to the rules which are observed in + Joinville’s charters, and in the best MSS. of the beginning of the + fourteenth century. The fac-similes of nine of these charters are + published at the end of M. de Wailly’s _Mémoire sur la Langue de + Joinville_; of others an accurate transcript is given. The authentic + texts thus collected, in which we can study the French language as + it was written at the time of Joinville, amount to nearly one fifth + of the text of Joinville’s History. To correct, according to these + charters, the text of Joinville so systematically as had been done + by M. de Wailly in his last edition may seem a bold undertaking; but + few who have read attentively his _Mémoire_ would deny that the new + editor has fully justified his critical principles. Thus with regard + to the terminations of the nominative and the oblique cases, where + other MSS. of Joinville’s History follow no principle whatever, M. + de Wailly remarks: “Pour plus de simplicité j’appellerai règle du + sujet singulier et règle du sujet pluriel l’usage qui consistait à + distinguer, dans beaucoup de mots, le sujet du regime par une + modification analogue à celle de la déclinaison latine. Or, j’ai + constaté que, dans les chartes de Joinville, la règle du sujet + singulier est observée huit cent trente-cinq fois, et violée sept + fois seulement; encore dois-je dire que cinq de ces violations se + rencontrent dans une même charte, celle du mois de mai 1278, qui + n’est connue que par une copie faite au siècle dernier. Si l’on fait + abstraction de ce texte, il reste deux violations contre huit cent + trente-cinq observations de la règle. La règle du sujet pluriel est + observée cinq cent quartre-vingt-huit fois, et violée six fois: ce + qui donne au total quatorze cent vingt-trois contre treize, en + tenant compte même de six fautes commises dans le texte copié au + siècle dernier. De ce resultat numérique, il faut évidemment + conclure, d’abord, que l’une et l’autre règle étaient parfaitement + connues et pratiquées à la chancellerie de Joinville, ensuite qu’on + est autorisé à modifier le texte de l’Histoire, partout où ces + règles y sont violées. (D’après un calcul approximatif, on peut + croire que le copiste du quatorzième siècle a violé ces règles plus + de quatre mille fois et qu’il les respectait peut-être une fois sur + dix.)” + +_ 32 Table Méthodique des Mémoires de Trévoux_ (1701-1775), précédée + d’une Notice Historique. Par le Pére P. C. Sommervogel, de la + Compagnie de Jésus. 3 vols. Paris, 1864-65. + +_ 33 Chasot: a Contribution to the History of Frederic the Great and his + Time._ By Kurd von Schlözer. Berlin. 1856. + + 34 Speech delivered at Stratford-on-Avon on the 23d of April, 1864, the + Tercentenary of Shakespeare’s birth. + + 35 Franz Baco von Verulam: _Die Realphilosophie und ihr Zeitalter_. Von + Kuno Fischer. Leipzig. Brockhaus. 1856. + +_ 36 Pauli Hentzneri J. C. Itinerarium Germaniæ, Galliæ, Angliæ, + Italiæ_: cum Indice Locorum, Rerum, atque Verborum commemorabilium. + Huic libro accessêre novâ hâc editione—1. Monita Peregrinatoria + duorum doctissimorum virorum; itemque Incerti auctoris Epitome + Præcognitorum Historicorum, antehac non edita. Noribergæ, Typis + Abrahami Wagenmanni, sumptibus sui ipsius et Johan. Güntzelii, anno + MDCXXIX. + +_ 37 Antiquities, Historical and Monumental, of the County of Cornwall._ + By William Borlase, LL. D. London, 1769. + + _A Week at the Land’s End._ By J. T. Blight. London, 1861. + + 38 Plin. _H. N._ xvi. c. 44. “Non est omittenda in ea re et Galliarum + admiratio. Nihil habent Druidæ (ita suos appellant magos) visco et + arbore in qua gignatur (si modo sit robur) sacratius. Jam per se + roborum eligunt lucos, nec ulla sacra sine ea fronde conficiunt, ut + inde appellati quoque interpretatione Græca possint Druidæ videri. + Enimvero quidquid adnascatur illis, e cœlo missum putant signumque + esse electæ ab ipso deo arboris. Est autem id rarum admodum inventu + et repertum magna religione petitur, et ante omnia sexta luna, quæ + principia mensium annorumque his facit, et seculi post tricesimum + annum, quia jam virium abunde habeat, nec sit sui dimidia. Omnia + sanantem appellantes suo vocabulo, sacrificiis epulisque rite sub + arbore præparatis, duos admovent candidi coloria tauros, quorum + cornua tune primum vinciantur. Sacerdos candida veste cultus arborem + scandit, falce aurea demetit; candido id excipitur sago. Tum deinde + victimas immolant, precantes ut suum donum deus prosperum facial his + quibus dederit.” + +_ 39 Tre_, homestead; _ros_, moor, peatland, a common; _pol_, a pool; + _lan_, an enclosure, church; _caer_, town; _pen_, head. + + 40 Cranmer’s Works, ed. Jenkyns, vol. ii. p. 230. + + 41 Observations on an ancient Manuscript, entitled _Passio Christi_, by + —— Scawen, Esq., 1777, p. 26. + + 42 Borlase’s _Natural History of Cornwall_, p. 315. + +_ 43 Ibid_. + + 44 Her age was certainly mythical, and her case forms a strong + confirmation of the late Sir G. C. Lewis’s skepticism on that point. + Dolly Pentreath is generally believed to have died at the age of one + hundred and two. Dr. Borlase, who knew her, and has left a good + description of her, stated that, about 1774, she was in her + eighty-seventh year. This, if she died in 1778, would only bring her + age to ninety-one. But Mr. Haliwell, who examined the register at + Paul, found that Dolly Pentreath was baptized in 1714; so that, + unless she was baptized late in life, this supposed centenarian had + only reached her sixty-fourth year at the time of her death, and was + no more than sixty when Dr. Borlase supposed her to be eighty-seven. + Another instance of extraordinary old age is mentioned by Mr. Scawen + (p. 25), about a hundred years earlier. “Let not the old woman be + forgotten,” he says, “who died about two years since, who was one + hundred and sixty-four years old, of good memory, and healthful at + that age, living in the parish of Guithian, by the charity mostly of + such as came purposely to see her, speaking to them (in default of + English) by an interpreter, yet partly understanding it. She married + a second husband after she was eighty, and buried him after he was + eighty years of age.” + +_ 45 Specimens of Cornish Provincial Dialects_, by Uncle Jan Treenoodle. + London, 1846: p. 82. + +_ 46 Greece, Ancient and Modern_, by C. C. Felton. Boston, 1867, vol. + ii. p. 314. + +_ 47 The Races of the Old World: A manual of Ethnology._ By Charles L. + Brace. London, 1863, p. 362 _seq._ + + 48 Cornish proverbs have lived on after the extinction of Cornish, and + even as translated into English they naturally continue to exercise + their own peculiar spell on the minds of men and children. Such + proverbs are:— + + “It is better to keep than to beg.” + + “Do good; for thyself thou dost it.” + + “Speak little, speak well, and well will be spoken again.” + + “There is no down without eye, no hedge without ears.” + + 49 A critical edition, with some excellent notes, was published by Mr. + Whitley Stokes under the title of _The Passion_. MSS. of it exist at + the British Museum and at the Bodleian. One of the Bodleian MSS. + (Gough, Cornwall, 3) contains an English translation by Keigwyn, + made in 1682. + + 50 In the MS. in the British Museum, the translation is said by Mr. + Norris to be dated 1693 (vol. ii. p. 440). It was published in 1827 + by Davies Gilbert; and a critical edition was prepared by Mr. + Whitley Stokes, and published with an English translation in 1862. + Mr. Stokes leaves it doubtful whether William Jordan was the author, + or merely the copyist, and thinks the text may belong to an earlier + date, though it is decidedly more modern than the other specimens of + Cornish which we possess in the dramas, and in the poem of _The + Passion_. + +_ 51 Guare_, in Cornish, means a play, a game; the Welsh _gware._ + + 52 According to Lhuyd, _guirimir_ would be a corruption of + _guarimirkle_, _i.e._ a miracle-play. Norris, vol ii. p. 455. + + 53 In some lines written in 1693, on the origin of the Oxford _Terræ + filius_, we read:— + + “These undergraduates’ oracles + Deduced from Cornwall’s _guary_ miracles,— + From immemorial custom there + They raise a turfy theatre! + When from a passage underground, + By frequent crowds encompassed round, + Out leaps some little Mephistopheles, + Who e’en of all the mob the offal is,” etc. + + 54 The following extract from a Cornish paper gives some curious words + still current among the people:— + + “A few weeks since a correspondent in the _Cornish Telegraph_ + remarked a few familiar expressions which we West country folks are + accustomed to use in so vague a sense that strangers are often + rather puzzled to know precisely what we mean. He might also have + added to the list many old Cornish words, still in common use, as + _skaw_ for the elder-tree; _skaw-dower_, water-elder; _skaw-coo_, + nightshade; _bannel_, broom; _skedgewith_, privet; _griglans_, + heath; _padzypaw_ (from _padzar_, four?), the small gray lizard; + _muryan_, the ant; _quilkan_, the frog (which retains its English + name when in the water); _pul-cronach_ (literally pool-toad) is the + name given to a small fish with a head much like that of a toad, + which is often found in the pools (_pulans_) left by the receding + tide among the rocks along shore; _visnan_, the sand-lance; + _bul-horn_, the shell-snail; _dumble-dory_, the black-beetle (but + this may be a corruption of the dor-beetle). A small, solid wheel + has still the old name of _drucshar_. Finely pulverized soil is + called _grute_. The roots and other light matter harrowed up on the + surface of the ground for burning we call _tabs_. The harvest-home + and harvest-feast, _guildize_. _Plum_ means soft; _quail_, withered; + _crum_, crooked; _bruyans_, crumbs; with a few other terms more + rarely used. + + “Many of our ordinary expressions (often mistaken for vulgar + provincialisms) are French words slightly modified, which were + probably introduced into the West by the old Norman families who + long resided there. For instance: a large apron to come quite round, + worn for the sake of keeping the under-clothing clean, is called a + _touser_ (_tout-serre_); a game of running romps, is a _courant_ + (from _courir_). Very rough play is a regular _cow’s courant_. Going + into a neighbor’s for a spell of friendly chat is going _to cursey_ + (_causer_) a bit. The loins are called the _cheens_ (old French, + _echine_). The plant sweet-leaf, a kind of St. John’s wort, here + called _tutsen_, is the French _tout-saine_ (heal all). There are + some others which, however, are not peculiar to the West; as + _kickshaws_ (_quelque chose_), etc. We have also many inverted + words, as _swap_ for wasp, _cruds_ for curds, etc. Then again we + call a fly a _flea_; and a flea a _flay_; and the smallest stream of + water a river.”—W. B. + + 55 Quoted in Petrie, _Eccles. Architecture of Ireland_, p. 107. + + 56 Borlase, _Antiquities of Cornwall_, p. 162. + + 57 Strabo, iv. 197: τοὺς δ᾽ οἴκους ἐκ σανίδων καὶ γέῥῤων ἔχουσι + μεγάλους θολοειδεῖς, ὄροφον πολὺν ἐπιβάλλοντες. + + 58 Cf. Photius, _Bibliotheca_, ed. Bekker, p. 148, 1. 32: περὶ τῆς παρὰ + τὸν ὠκεανὸν Γιγωνίας πέτρας, καὶ ὅτι μόνῳ ἀσφοδειλῷ κινεῖται, πρὸς + πᾶσαν βίαν ἀμετακίνητος οὖσὰ. + + 59 The following extract from a Cornish newspaper, July 15, 1869, shows + the necessity of imperial legislation on this subject to prevent + irreparable mischief:— + + “The ruthless destruction of the Tolmen, in the parish of + Constantine, which has been so much deplored, has had the effect, we + are glad to say, of drawing attention to the necessity of taking + measures for the preservation of the remaining antiquities and + objects of curiosity and interest in the county. In a recent number + of the _West Briton_ we called attention to the threatened overthrow + of another of our far-famed objects of great interest,—the + Cheesewring, near Liskeard; and we are now glad to hear that the + committee of the Royal Institution of Cornwall have requested three + gentlemen who take great interest in the preservation of + antiquities—Mr. William Jory Henwood, F. G. S., etc., Mr. N. Hare, + Jr., of Liskeard, and Mr. Whitley, one of the secretaries of the + Royal Institution—to visit Liskeard for the purpose of conferring + with the agents of the lessors of the Cheesewring granite + quarries—the Duchy of Cornwall—and with the lessees of the works, + Messrs. Freeman, of Penryn, who are themselves greatly anxious that + measures should be taken for the preservation of that most + remarkable pile of rocks known as the Cheesewring. We have no doubt + that the measures to be adopted will prove successful; and with + regard to any other antiquities or natural curiosities in the + county, we shall be glad to hear from correspondents, at any time, + if they are placed in peril of destruction, in order that a public + announcement of the fact may become the means of preserving them.” + + 60 See p. 245. + + 61 See Isaac Taylor’s _Words and Places_, p. 212. The Ock joins the + Thames near Abingdon. + + 62 See the learned essay of M. Rossignol, “De l’Orichalque: Histoire du + Cuivre et de ses Alliages,” in his work, _Les Métaux dans + l’Antiquité_. Paris. 1863. + + 63 There is another Penny come quick near Falmouth. + + 64 Isaac Taylor, _Words and Places_, p. 402. + + 65 It has been objected that _Marchadyon_ could not be called the + original form, because by a _carta Alani comitis Britanniæ_, sealed, + according to Dugdale’s _Monasticon Anglicanum_, by Alan, anno + incarnationis domini MCXL., ten shillings per annum were granted to + the monks of St. Michael, due from a fair held at _Merdresem_ or + _Merdresein_. Until, however, it has been proved that _Merdresem_ is + the same place and the same name as _Marchadyon_, or that the latter + sprang from the former, _Marchadyon_ in the charter of Richard, Earl + of Cornwall, 1257, may for our immediate purpose be treated as the + root from which all the other names branched off. See Oliver, + _Monasticon Exon._ p. 32. + + 66 If a market was held on the “dimidia terræ hida” granted by Robert + to the monks, this difficulty would disappear. + + 67 In the Additional Supplement (p. 4), Dr. Oliver gives the more + correct reading, “_de Markesiou, de parvo Mercato, Brevannek, + Penmedel, Trewarbene_.” It depends on the comma after _Markesiou_ + whether _parvus Mercatus_ is a separate place or not. + + 68 Dr. Bannister remarks that _Markesion_ occurs as early as 1261, in + the taxation of Bishop Walter Bronescombe, as quoted in Bishop + Stapledon’s register of 1313. If that be so, the original form and + its dialectic varieties would have existed almost contemporaneously, + but the evidence that _Markesion_ was used by Bishop Bronescombe is + indirect. See Oliver, _Monast. Exon._ p. 28. + + 69 On the termination of the plural in Cornish, see Mr. Whitley + Stokes’s excellent remarks in his edition of _The Passion_, p. 79; + also in Kuhn’s _Beiträge_, iii. 151; and Norris, _Cornish Drama_, + vol. ii. p. 229. My attention has since been called to the fact that + _marhas_ occurs in the plural as _marhasow_, in the _Cornish Drama_, + vol. i. p. 248; and as _s_under such circumstances may become _j_ + (cf. _canhasawe_, Creat. line 29, but _canhajowe_, Creat. line 67), + _Marhajow_ would come still nearer to _Market Jew_. Dr. Bannister + remarks that in Armorican, market is _marchad_, plural _marchadou_, + corrupted into _marchajou_. + + 70 The following note from a Cornish paper gives some important facts + as to the date of the name of _Market Jew_:— + + “Among the State Papers at the Record Office, there is a letter from + Ralph Conway to Secretary Cope, dated 3d October, 1634, which + mentions the name of _Market-jew_. + + “In another, dated 7th February, 1634-5, Sir James Bagg informs the + Lords of the Admiralty that the endeavors of Mr. Basset, and other + gentlemen in the west of Cornwall, to save the cargo of a wrecked + Spanish galleon which broke from her moorings in Gwavas Lake, near + Penzance, were opposed by a riotous multitude, consisting of the + inhabitants of Mousehole and _Marka-jew_, who maintained their + unlawful proceedings with the cry of ‘One and All!’ threatening with + death the servants of the Crown, and compelling them to avoid their + fury by leaping down a high cliff. + + “In another of the same date, from Ralph Bird, of Saltram, to + Francis Basset, the rebels of Mousehole, with their fellow-rebels of + _Market Jew_, are spoken of, as having menaced the life of any + officer who should come to their houses to search for certain hides + that mysteriously disappeared from the deck of the galleon one + boisterous night, and were probably transferred to Mousehole in the + cock-boat of Mr. Keigwin, of that place; and various methods are + suggested for administering punishment to the outrageous barbarians. + + “In consequence of these complaints, the Lords of the Admiralty + wrote to Sir Henry Marten, on the 12th of February of the same year, + concerning ‘the insolency’ committed by the inhabitants of Mousehole + and _Markaiew_ requesting that the offenders may be punished, and, + if necessary, the most notorious of them sent to London for trial. + + “In _Magna Britannia et Hibernia_, 1720, p. 308, _Merkju_ is + mentioned as being ‘a little market-town which takes its name from + the market on Thursdays, it being a contraction of _Market-Jupiter_, + _i.e._ as ’tis now called _Market Jew_, or rather _Ju_.’ + + “Norden, who was born about 1548, says in his _Specul. Britanniæ_, + which was published in 1728, that _Marca-iewe_ (_Marca-iew_ in + margin) signifies in English, ‘market on the Thursday.’ In an old + map, apparently drawn by hand, which appears to have been inserted + in this book after it was published, _Market Iew_ is given, and in + the map issued with the book _Market Jew_. + + “The map of Cornwall, contained in _Camden’s Britannia_, by Gibson, + 1772, gives _Market-Jew_. The edition 1789, by Gough, states at page + 3, that ‘_Merkiu_ signifies the _Market of Jupiter_, from the market + being held on a Thursday, the day sacred to Jupiter.’ + + “Carew’s _Survey of Cornwall_, ed. 1769, p. 156, has the + following:—‘Over against the Mount fronteth a towne of petty + fortune, pertinently named _Marcaiew_, or _Marhas diow_, in English + “the Thursdaies market.” ’ In the edition published in 1811, p. 378, + it is stated in a foot-note that _Marazion_ means ‘market on the + Strand,’ the name being well adapted to its situation, ‘for _Zion_ + answers to the Latin _litus_.’ ” + + 71 H. B. C. Brandes, _Kelten und Germanen_, p. 52. + + 72 Capgrave, _Legenda Angliæ_, fol. 269. + + 73 “Within the land of Meneke or Menegland, is a paroch chirche of S. + Keveryn, otherwise Piranus.”—Leland. “Piran and Keveryn were + different persons.” See Gough’s edition of _Camden_, vol. i. p. 14. + + 74 Carew, _Survey_ (ed. 1602), p. 58. “From which civility, in the + fruitful age of Canonization, they stepped a degree farder to + holines, and helped to stuffe the Church Kalender with divers + saints, either made or borne Cornish. Such was Keby, son to Solomon, + prince of Cor.; such _Peran_, who (if my author the Legend lye not) + after that (like another Johannes de temporibus) he had lived two + hundred yeres with perfect health, took his last rest in a Cornish + parish, which there-through he endowed with his name.” + + 75 Hunt’s _Popular Romances_, vol. ii. p. 19. + +_ 76 Saxon Chronicle_, ed. Earle, p. 14, and his note, Preface, p. ix. + + 77 This _how_, according to Professor Earle, appears again in the + _Hoe_, a high down at Plymouth, near the citadel; in _Hooton_ + (Cheshire), in _How-gate_, _Howe of Fife_, and other local names. + See also Halliwell, _s. v._ Hoes, and Hogh; Kemble’s _Codex + Diplomaticus_, Nos. 563, 663, 784. + + 78 Hunt, vol. i. p. 187. + + 79 Matthew Paris, _Opera_, ed. Wats, p. 902. + + 80 See _Reymeri Fœdera_, A. D. 1255, tom. i. p. 543. + + 81 See Adam Bremensis’ _De Situ Daniæ_ ed. Lindenbruch, p. 136; + Buckle’s _History of Civilization_, vol. i. p. 275. + + 82 Carew, _Surrey_ (ed. 1602), p. 8: “and perhaps under one of those + Flavians, the Jewish workmen made here their first arrival.” + + 83 Gibbon, chap. i. “The name which, used by Ptolemy and Pliny in a + more confined, by Ammianus and Procopius in a larger sense, has been + derived, ridiculously, from Sarah, the wife of Abraham, obscurely + from the village of Saraka, more plausibly from the Arabic words, + which signify a _thievish_ character, or _Oriental_ situation. Yet + the last and most popular of these etymologies is refuted by + Ptolemy, who expressly remarks the western and southern position of + the Saracens, then an obscure tribe on the borders of Egypt. The + appellation cannot therefore allude to any _national_ character; + and, since it was imported by strangers, it must be found, not in + the Arabic, but in a foreign language.” + + 84 See R. Williams, _Lexicon Cornu. Britannicum_, s. v. + + 85 “It may be given as a rule, without exception, that words ending + with _t_ or _d_ in Welsh or Briton, do, if they exist in Cornish, + turn _t_ or _d_ to _s_.”—Norris, vol. ii. p. 237. + + 86 “The frequent use of _th_ instead of _s_ shows that (in Cornish) the + sound was not so definite as in English.”—Norris, vol. ii. p. 224. + + Another explanation of _Attal Sarazin_ has been suggested by an + eminent Cornish scholar: “I should explain _sarazin_,” he writes, + “as from _saratin_, a Med. Lat. _saritinus_, cf. _ex-saritum_, + _ex-saritare_ in Diez, E. W. ii. 283, s. v. _Essart_. _Atal_ cannot + be W. _adhail_. I would identify it with the Fr. _attelle_, splint. + It occurs in O. 427, meaning ‘fallow.’ _Atal sarazin_ I should + explain as ‘dug-up splinters or shingle,’ and _towle_ (_toll_) + _sarazin_ as a ‘dug-up hole or excavation.’ ” + + 87 See p. 311, l. 30. + + 88 “History of the Exchequer,” London, 1711, p. 168: “Et quod nullus + Judæus receptetur in aliqua Villa sine speciali licentia Regis, nisi + in Villis illis in quibus Judæi manere consueverunt” (37 Henry III). + + 89 Read before the Ashmolean Society, Oxford, November 25, 1867. + + 90 In Gough’s edition of Camden the name is given “Careg cowse in + clowse, _i.e._ the heavy rock in the wood.” + +_ 91 Baronii Annales_, anno 493. + +_ 92 Baronii Annales_, anno 709. + + 93 I have added _church_, for Mr. Munro, who kindly collated this + passage for me, informs me that the C. C. C. MS. gives distinctly + _ædem_ where the editor has left a lacuna. + + 94 Thomas Crammer sends a dispensation, in 1537, to the Rev. John + Arscott, archpresbyter of the ecclesia St. Michaelis in Monte Tumba + Exoniensis diocesis. (_Monasticon Dioc. Exon._ p. 30.) Dr. Oliver + remarks, “It may be worth while to observe, that when St. Michael + ‘in procella,’ or ‘in periculo maris,’ is named in the old records, + the foreign house is meant. But St. Michael ‘in Tumbâ,’ or ‘Monte + Tumbâ,’ is a name occasionally applied to both houses.” It would + have been interesting to determine the exact date when this latter + name is for the first time applied to the Cornish Mount. + +_ 95 Passion_, ed. W. S. p. 95. Coth, Bret. kôz=O. Celtic cottos + (Atecotti “perantiqui”). + + 96 It was suggested to me that the _opacissima sylva_ may even have a + more distant origin. There seems as little evidence of a dense + forest having surrounded Mont St. Michel in Normandy as there was in + the case of St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall. Now as the first + apparition of St. Michael is supposed to have taken place in Mount + Garganus, _i.e._ Monte Gargano or Monte di S. Angelo, in Apulia, may + not “the dense forest” have wandered with the archangel from the + “querceta Gargani” (Hor. _Od._ ii. 9, 7) to Normandy, and thence to + Cornwall? + +_ 97 A Memoir of Baron Bunsen_, by his widow, Baroness Bunsen. 2 vols. + 8vo. Longmans, 1868. + + _Christian Carl Josias Freiherr von Bunsen_. Aus seinen Briefen und + nach eigener Erinnerung geschildert, von seiner Wittwe. Deutsche + Ausgabe, durch neue Mittheilungen vermehrt von Friedrich Nippold. + Leipzig, 1868. + + 98 Translated by G. A. M. + + 99 No date, but about December, 1849. + + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHIPS FROM A GERMAN WORKSHOP. VOL. III.*** + + + +CREDITS + + +September 10, 2008 + + Project Gutenberg TEI edition 1 + Produced by Geetu Melwani, Chuck Grief, David King, and the + Online Distributed Proofreading Team at + <http://www.pgdp.net/>. 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