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Title: Pictures of German Life in the XVIIIth and XIXth Centuries, Vol. I. Author: Gustav Freytag Translator: Georgiana Malcolm

Release Date: September 29, 2010 [EBook #33818]

Language: English

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*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PICTURES OF GERMAN LIFE V. 1 ***

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PICTURES

OF

GERMAN LIFE

In the XVIIIth and XIXth Centuries.

Second Series.

BY

GUSTAV FREYTAG

Translated from the Original by

MRS. MALCOLM.

COPYRIGHT EDITION.--IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

LONDON:

CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193 PICCADILLY. 1863.

LONDON:

BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.

CONTENTS.

SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES.

Introduction.--The nation and the individual--Aim of the book--Peculiarities in the development of the German people since the Thirty Years' War

CHAPTER I.

Life of the German Peasant (1240-1790).--The duration of modern nations--German agriculture in the time of the Romans, the Carlovingians, and the Hohenstauffen--Description of the peasants by Neidhart von Reuenthal--Narrative of young Helmbrecht, by Wernher the Gardener--The fifteenth century--The Peasant War--Eberlin von Günzburg--Condition of the peasants after the war; their service and burdens; their different condition according to districts, and deterioration by oppression--First signs of improvement--Description of the German peasant by Christian Garve--Insurrection of the peasantry in 1790, and their present position

CHAPTER II.

The Life of the Lower Nobility (1500-1800).--The country nobles in the sixteenth century--The court nobles--The detrimental effects of the Great War--Description of a wealthy nobleman from 1650-1700--Patents of nobility--Description of the life of the newly-ennobled merchants from 1650-1700--The country nobles and Krippenreiters from 1660-1700--Description of the same from "The Nobleman," by Paul Winckler--Better condition after 1700--Privileges of the nobles--Introduction of a new culture--Gellert--Union of the nobles with the citizens

CHAPTER III.

The German Citizen and his Shooting Festivals (1300-1800).-Gradual development of the citizen class--Decline after the Thirty Years' War--The prize shooting as an example of their former wealth and importance--May feasts of the old citizens--Prize shooting before 1400--Preparations for the festival--The Pritschmeister and procession--Prizes and fortune's urn--Hospitality, and conclusion of the festival--Zurich and Strasbourg--Differences of the festivals according to districts--Their decline--Description of the Breslau "Königschiessens" of 1738, by Kundmann

CHAPTER IV.

The State Policy and the Individual (1600-1700).--The dissolution of the German Empire--The Prince's parties--The despotic official administration--The statesmen after the war--The insecurity of the subject; its influence on the character--Characteristics of the State system in a flying sheet of 1678--Tendencies up to 1740

CHAPTER V.

The "Stillen im Lande," or Pietists (1600-1700).--Tendencies of Protestantism till 1618--Consequences of the war--The older Pietism--Spener--Hatred of worldly pleasures--The women--Self-contemplation and social intercourse--Good effects on morals--The revival--Characters of Petersen and his wife--Narrative of Johanna Eleonora Petersen--Narrative of Dr. Johann Wilhelm Petersen--Fate of this couple, and their revelations--The later Pietism and its aberrations--Opposition--Lamentations of the student, Ernst Johann Semler--Progress of the people through Pietism

CHAPTER VI.

The Dawning of Light (1750).--Changes in the human mind from the invention of printing--Mathematical discipline and natural science--Law--Philosophy and its position with respect to theology--The leaders--Change of literature by Wolf and his disciples--Description of a German city about 1760, its police and artisans--The gentry--Merchants and their commerce--Ecclesiastics, teachers, and schools--Post and travelling--Dress and manners--Sentimentality, tears, and self-contemplation--Marriage a business matter--Women and house duties--Narrative of Johann Salomo Semler--Letter from a bride to her bridegroom in the year 1750

PICTURES OF GERMAN LIFE.

Second Series.

INTRODUCTION.

The Man and the Nation! The course of life of a nation consists in the ceaseless working of the individual on the collective people, and the people on the individual. The greater the vigour, diversity, and originality with which individuals develop their human power, the more capable they are of conducing to the benefit of the whole body; and the more powerful the influence which the life of the nation exercises on the individual, the more secure is the basis for the free development of the man. The productive power of man expresses itself in endless directions, but the perfection of all powers is the political development of the individual, and of the nation through the State. The mind, the spirit, and the character are influenced and directed by the political life of the State, and the share which the individual has in the State is to him the highest source of honour and manly happiness.

If in the time of our fathers and grandfathers the German contemplated his own position among other men, he might well question whether his life was poor or rich, whether hope or sorrow predominated; for his earthly position was in every way peculiar. Whilst he felt with pleasure that he was in the enjoyment of a free and refined cultivation, he was daily oppressed by the harsh despotism, or the weak insignificance of his State, in which he lived as a stranger without the protection of the law; he looked with pride on the gigantic workings of German science, but he perceived, with bitter sorrow, that millions of his countrymen were separated by a deep chasm from the highest results of scientific labour. He found himself amidst the working of a popular energy, which ventured with heroic courage on the boldest conclusions in the realm of mind; and, on the other hand, saw around him narrow-hearted obstinacy, where simple and close results ought to have been the aim. He felt with thousands an eager desire for an object of life which would exalt and animate him, and again he found himself surrounded and shackled by narrow-mindedness and by provincial and local exclusiveness. Whoever should thus feel, may well inquire whether we Germans are old or young, whether it is destined by fate that the German nature should only find expression in the individual virtuosoship of art and science, or whether an harmonious development of the nation in its practical and ideal tendencies, in labour and enjoyment. State, church, science, art, and industry, lies before us in the future: whether we shall ever again, as members of a great State, play the part of masters in Europe, which old records inform us our ancestors, in remote ages, won by their swords and the energy of their natures. There is still a time in our memory when hope was so faint, that one may be excused for giving a doubtful answer to such questions.

After the War of Freedom, the decay of the old method of culture became the characteristic of the time; but we now approach, with youthful vigour, new ideas and an energetic will, to a new and higher climax. In the characters of that past time we find, only too frequently, isolation, hopelessness, and deficiency in political morality; in the new time we have a sharper vision, a higher interest for the nation as a whole, and a power of viewing things in a practical light which makes us feel the need of close union between all of like mind. The realism, which is called, either in praise or blame, the stamp of the present time, is in art, science, and faith, as in the State, nothing but the first step in the cultivation of the rising generation, which endeavours to spiritualise the details of present life in all directions, in order to give a new tendency to the spirit.

But, though it may be no longer necessary to cheer the soul with hope, yet it is a pleasing task to demonstrate the point to which we have attained in comparison with the past, and in comparison with other civilised nations; why we were obliged to remain behind in many things which our neighbours possess in abundance, and why we have made other acquisitions in advance of them. It is instructive for us to make such inquiries, and the answer that we shall find may be instructive to other nations. No individual can give a satisfactory solution to each single question; even the strongest mind can but imperfectly comprehend the great life of his nation: the clearest eye and the most ingenuous judgment is contracted in comparison with the great unity of the people. But, however imperfect may be the portrait given by individuals of the life of their nation, yet each contemporary will discover some main features of the picture lying in his own soul, more especially he who stands in the same grade of cultivation with the delineator.

This kind of delineation of the period of the Reformation and the Thirty Years' War, was the object of the former series of pictures of the past life of Germany; the following will be a sketch of some of the phases of development of German character during the last century up to the present day. Again shall the narratives of those who are gone, as well as the living, portray the times in which they figure; but the nearer we approach the present, the less do the records of individuals give an impression of the nature of the general community. First, because from the greater proximity we are able more accurately to distinguish the individual from the community, and also, because the diversity of character and the difference of culture become ever greater the further the German mind advances in profound investigation; therefore these examples will probably lose for the reader some of the charm afforded by those of former centuries. And in addition to this, the records of these latter times are far more known and realised by our popular writers. Lastly, the political history, as well as the development of the German mind, since the time of Frederick the Great, has, through copious works, become the property of the nation. It is not therefore intended here to enter upon a representation of the scientific mind, or of the political condition of the nation; but only to represent those phases of the spirit and social circumstances, which more especially define the character of a people. By these the continuity and many peculiarities of our present cultivation will be illustrated.

The new time began in Germany, after the invention of printing, by a struggle in which Germans broke the fetters of the Papal Church of the Middle Ages, and passed from submissive belief in authority, to an energetic, independent search after truth. But they did not at the same time succeed in building up a compact monarchy out of the unsymmetrical feudalism of the Middle Ages. The Imperial House of Hapsburg became the zealous opponent of the national development. Owing to this opposition arose the power of separate territorial princes, and the political weakness of Germany became the more perceptible, the more the rising vigour of the nation demanded an answering development of political energy. From this the German character suffered much. Ecclesiastical disputes were for a long period the only national interest; there was but too great a deficiency in Germans of that pride and pleasure in a fatherland, and of that whole circle of moral feelings, to which political independence gives life, even in the most obscure individual.

After the Reformation it became the fate of the German nation to develope its character under conditions which were materially different from those of the other civilised people of Europe. In France, the Protestant party was struck down with bloody zeal by the crown under the despotic government of Louis XIV.; and the Revolution was the growth of this victory. In England, the Protestant party gained the dominion under the Tudors; the struggle against the Stuarts and the completion of the English constitution was the result. In Germany, the opposition of parties was not followed either by victory or conciliation; the result was the Thirty Years' War, and the political paralysis of Germany, from which it is only now beginning to recover.

This Thirty Years' War, the worst desolation of a populous nation since the national exodus, is the second period of German history which gave a peculiar tendency to the character of the people. The war shattered into ruins the popular strength, but it also certainly removed the dangers which threatened German cultivation, by the alliance of the Imperial House with the Roman Hierarchy. It also separated the Imperial State, politically, from the rest of Germany; what was lost to France in the west by the Hapsburgers, was gradually regained to Germany in the east by another Royal House. The great destruction caused by the war, changed the State life of Germany to a hollow form; it threw the Germans almost two centuries back, in comparison with their English kinsmen, in wealth, population, and political condition. It must again be repeated that it destroyed at least two thirds, probably three fourths of the population, and a still greater portion of their goods and cattle, and deteriorated the morals, arts, education, and energies of the survivors. Out of these remains of German life, the modern character of Germans was slowly and feebly developed--individual life under despotic government.

It is this period, in which our popular strength was slowly raised from the deepest degradation, which will be here portrayed by the narratives of contemporaries. Again a great time, but a period of German development of which the last and highest results have not yet become history.

The way in which the people raised themselves from this abyss is peculiar to the Germans. Marvellous as was the destruction, so also was the revival. More than one nation has been overpowered by outward enemies or cast down under political oppression, each of which has had to undergo special trials which have given them from time to time a hopeless aspect, but through the whole course of history a renovation has been effected, so that the strengthening of the State has gone hand-in-hand with intellectual progress. When the Greeks during the Persian war felt their own political worth, their science and art blossomed almost simultaneously; when Augustus had given a new support and constitution to the declining Roman republic, there began forthwith a new Imperial culture in enjoyment-seeking Rome: the intellectual life, from Horace and Virgil to Tacitus, followed the destiny of the State; the increased expansive power of the Empire ever gave a wider stretch and stronger independence to individual minds. And again in England,--when the war of the Red and White Roses was ended, when the people peacefully danced round the maypole, and a brilliant court life enforced courtly manners upon the wild Barons, when daring merchants and adventurers waylaid the Spanish galleons, and conveyed the spices of India up the Thames,--then the popular energies found expression in the greatest poetic soul of modern nations. Even in France the splendid despotism of Louis XIV., after the wars of the Huguenots and the Fronde, gave suddenly to the tranquillised country a brilliant courtly bloom of art and literature. It was quite otherwise in Germany. Whilst everywhere else the State might be compared to the body whose abundant energy calls forth the creative development of the nation, in Germany, since the Thirty Years' War, owing to the awakening popular energy, a new national civilisation has gradually arisen in a shattered, decaying government, under corrupting and humiliating political influences of every kind,--first dependent upon strangers; then independent and free; finally, a shining pattern for other people, producing blossoms of poetry, and blossoms of science of the greatest beauty, of the highest nobility, and the greatest inward freedom: it was developed by individuals who were deficient in just that discipline of the mind and character, which is only given to them when they are members of a great State. The German culture of the eighteenth century was indeed the wonderful creation of a soul with out a body.

It is still more remarkable that this new national cultivation helped, in an indirect way, to turn the Germans into political men. From it the enthusiasm and struggle for an endangered German State, passions, parties, and at last political institutions were developed. Never did literature play such a part or solve such great problems, as the German, from 1750 to the present day. For it is thoroughly unlike the modern endeavours of other nations, who from patriotism, that is to say, from the need of political progress, mature an objective literature. In these cases art and poetry serve, from the beginning, as handmaids to politics; they are perhaps artificially fostered, and the artistic and scientific worth is probably less than the patriotic aim. In Germany, science, literature, and art only existed for their own sake: the highest creative power and the warmest interests of the educated classes were engrossed with them alone; they were always German and patriotic, in opposition to the overpowering French taste; but, with the exception of a few outbreaks of political anger or popular enthusiasm, they had no other aim than to serve truth and beauty. Nay, the greatest poets and scholars considered the political condition under which they lived, as a common reality out of which art alone could elevate mankind.

As therefore in Germany art and science desired nothing but honourable exertion within their own sphere, their pure flames refined the sensitive disposition of Germans till it was hardened for a great political struggle.

Before giving pictures of the German character during the last two centuries, we will endeavour to portray the peculiarities which are developed in the family relations of the different classes of ancient Germany, both the peasantry, the nobility, and the citizens. But the aim of the book is to show how, by means of the Hohenzollern State, Germans changed gradually from private to public men; how dramatic power and interest entered into lyrical individual life; how the Burgher class was strengthened by increasing education, and the nobility and peasantry submitted to its influence; finally, how it cast aside the specialities of classes, and began to form characters according to its own needs and points of view.

CHAPTER I.

THE LIFE OF THE GERMAN PEASANT.

(1240-1790.)

In seven hundred years the independent life of the Greeks terminated; about a thousand embraces the growth, dominion, and decline of the Roman power; but the German Empire had lasted fifteen hundred years from the fight in the Teutoburg Forest,[1] before it began to emerge from its epic time. So entirely different was the duration of the life of the ancient world to that of the modern; so slow and artificial are our transformations. How rich were the blossoms which Greek life had matured in the five centuries from Homer to Aristotle! How powerful were the changes which the Roman State had undergone, from the rise of the free peasantry on the hills of the Tiber to the subjection of the Italian husbandmen under German landlords! But the Germans worked for fifteen centuries with an intellectual inheritance from the Romans and the East, and are now only in the beginning of a development which we consider as peculiar to the German mind, in contradistinction to the Roman, of the new time, to the ancient. It is indeed no longer an isolated people which has to emerge from barbarism by its own creations; it is a family of nations more painstaking and more enduring, which has risen, at long and laborious intervals, from the ruins of the Roman Empire, and from the intellectual treasures of antiquity: one nation reciprocally acting on the other, under the law of the same faith.

The Romans from free peasants had become farmers, and they were ruined because they could not overcome the social evil of slavery. The German warriors also, in the time of Tacitus, took little pleasure in cultivating their own fields, and were glad to make use of dependents. It was only shortly before the year 1500, that the German cities arrived at the conviction that the labour of freemen is the foundation of prosperity, opulence, and civilisation. But in the country, even after the Thirty Years' War, the mass of the labourers--more than half of the whole German nation--were in a state of servitude, which in many provinces differed little from slavery. It is only in the time of our fathers that the peasant has become an independent man, a free citizen of the State: so slowly has the groundwork of German civilisation and of the modern State been developed.

All earthly progress does not take the straight course which men expect when improvement begins; thus the position of the German husbandman in 1700 was worse in many respects than a hundred years before; nay, even in our time it is not comparatively so good as it was 600 years earlier, in the time of the Hohenstaufen.

The German peasant for centuries lost much that was valuable in order to attain a higher condition; his freedom and elevation to citizenship in our State was effected in an apparently indirect way. At the time of the Carlovingians more than half the peasants were free and armed, and the pith of the popular strength; at the time of Frederick the Great, almost all the country people were under strict bondage,--the beasts of burden of the new State, weak and languishing, without political object or interest in the State. Somewhat of the old weakness still clings to them.

We shall therefore first take a short review of an earlier period, comparing it with the peasant life of the last two centuries.

What the Romans mention of the condition of the German agricultural districts, is only sufficient to give us a glimpse of ancient peasant life. According to their accounts, the Germans were long considered to be a wild warrior race, who lived in transition from a wandering life to an uncertain settlement, and it was seldom inquired how it was possible that such hordes should for centuries carry on a victorious resistance to the disciplined armies of the greatest power on earth. When Cheruskers, Chattens, Bructerers, Batavers, and other people of less geographical note, occasioned terror, not only to single legions, but to large Roman armies, not once, but in continual wars for more than one generation,--when a Markomannen chief disciplined 70,000 infantry and 4000 cavalry after the fashion of legions; when a Roman, after a century of devastating wars between the Rhine and the Elbe, puts before us with great emphasis the powerful masses of the Germans,--we may conclude that single tribes which, with their allies, could sometimes bring into the field more than 100,000 warriors, must have counted a population of hundreds of thousands. And we equally approach to a second conclusion, that such a multitude in a narrowly limited space, surrounded by warlike neighbours, could only exist by means of a simple, perhaps, but regular and extensive cultivation of field products. That the agriculture of the Germans should appear meagre to the Romans, after the garden cultivation of Italy and Gaul, is comprehensible; nevertheless they found corn, millet, wheat, and barley; but the common corn of the country was oats, the meal of which they despised, and rye, which Pliny calls an unpalatable growth of the Alpine country, productive of colic. But in the year 301, the corn which made the German black bread, was introduced as the third article of commerce in the corn bourse of Greece and Asia Minor. And from barley the German brewed his home drink, beer; he also brewed from wheat.

Now we know that in the time of the Romans, most of the German races lived in a condition similar to that in which it appears from records they lived shortly after their great exodus, in the early centuries of the Christian era: sometimes on single farms, but generally in enclosed villages, with boundaries marked out by posts. They had a peculiar method of laying out new village districts, and the Romans found it difficult to understand the mode of farming customary to the country. Probably the dwellers in the marshes near the North Sea had, as Pliny writes, made the first simple dykes against the encroachments of the water; already were their dwellings built on small hillocks, which, in high tides, raised them above the water, and their sheep pastured in the summer on the grass of the new alluvial soil;[2] but further from the coast the peasant dwelt in his blockhouse, or within mud walls, which he then loved to whitewash. Herds of swine lay in the shadows of the woods,[3] horses and cattle grazed on the village meadows, and long-woolled sheep on the dry declivities of the hills. Large flocks of geese furnished down for soft pillows; the women wove linen on a simple loom, and dyed it with native plants, the madder and the blue woad; and made coats and mantles of skins, which had already borders of finer fur introduced from foreign parts. Well-trod commercial roads crossed the territory from the Rhine to the Vistula in every direction. The foreign trader, who brought articles of luxury and the gold coins of Rome in his wagon to the house of the countryman, exchanged them with him for the highly-prized feathers of the goose, smoked hams, and sausages, the horns of the ure ox and antlers of the stag, fur skins, and even articles of toilet, such as the blonde hair of slaves, and a fine pomade to colour the hair. He bought German carrots, which had been ordered as a delicacy by his Emperor Tiberius; he beheld with astonishment in the garden of his German host, gigantic radishes, and related to his country-people that a German had shown him honeycombs eight feet long.

The warlike householder, it is true, held his weapons in higher esteem than his plough, not because agriculture was unimportant or despised, but because in the free classes there was already an aristocratic development. For, although the warrior did not employ himself in any field labour, he insisted upon his household cultivating his ground, and his bondmen had to pay a tribute in corn and cattle. The bondman dwelt with his wife and child near his master in special huts, which were erected on the land that was allotted to him for cultivation. Freemen were not only associated in communities, but several races were joined in one confederacy, being by the old constitution knit together by religious memories and public worship. The boundaries of the province were marked out, like those of the village, by casts of the holy hammer, and consecrated by processions of divine cars. Notwithstanding the numerous feuds of individual tribes, there were many points of union which served to reconcile and keep them together,--blood relationship and marriage alliances, similitude in customs and privileges, and, above all, the feeling of the same origin, the same language, and those pious rites which keep alive the memory of ancient communion.

Although the German of Tacitus appears to us as a fierce warrior, who, clothed in skins, watched with spear and wooden shield over the abatis which guarded his village against the assaults of enemies; yet this same German is shown, by the results of new researches, to have been a householder and landlord. He looked with satisfaction on the great brewer's copper which had been wrought by his neighbour, the skilful smith; or he stood in coloured linen smock-frock before the laden harvest wagon, on which his boy was throwing the last sheaf of rye, and his daughter placing the harvest wreath with pious ejaculations.

The German is incomprehensible to us, when, according to the Roman, he worshipped Mercury as the highest god; but we can realise the figure of the Asengott Woden, when we see the connection, of the wild hunter of our traditions and the sleeping Emperor of Kyffhäuser, with German antiquity. Now, we know how lovingly and actively the gods and spirits hovered round the hearths, farms, fields, rivers, and woods of our forefathers. From this tendency also the old Chatte or Hermundure has been transformed into a Hessian or Thuringian householder, who in the twilight looks wistfully up to his rooftree, on which the little household spirit loves to sit, and who, when the storm rages, carefully covers the window-openings, in order that a spectral horse's head from the train of the wild god who rides on the blast may not look into his hall.

Even from the productions of the Germans in that century that were most full of heart and soul, their songs, which no careful hand transcribed on parchment, we may draw some conclusions. Their oldest kind of poetry is not entirely unknown to us,--the native epic verse, with its alliterations--and in some of the popular songs and proverbs which have been preserved, we still find the ancient love of contests of wit and of enigmas, with which a troubadour delighted his hearers by the hearth of the Saxon chief.

After the great national exodus, written records begin slowly to appear in Germany. They came, together with that irresistible power which changed so much of the whole spirit of the German people,--with Christianity. However energetically religion turned the mind into new paths, and however fearful was the destruction occasioned by popular tumults at that period of immigration, the changes in the Germans arising from both sources were not sufficient to shatter everything ancient into ruins. We are too apt to consider the national exodus as a chaotic process of destruction. It is true that it drove from their homes many of the most powerful German nationalities that were located in and beyond East Germany, and the depopulated domiciles were filled with the Sclavonians who followed. The Bavarians migrated from Bohemia to the Danube; the Suevi, Allemanni, and Burgundians, southwards to their present localities. The names of old nationalities have disappeared, and new ones have spread themselves far across the Rhine. But nearly half the Germany which was known to the Romans--the wide territory from the North Sea to the Thuringian woods and the Rhone, from the Saal to near the Rhine--retains, on the whole, its old inhabitants; for the Thuringians, the Chattens, and indeed most of the races of Lower Saxony, only came in partial swarms; they probably greatly diminished in marching through foreign lands, and by emigrations of their kinsmen; they were also, as for example the Thuringians, frequently intermingled with foreign hordes, who settled among them. But the nucleus of the old inhabitants remained through all fluctuations, and maintained their own old home traditions, peculiarities of speech, customs, and laws.

About the year 600 the oldest law books and records in the new Franconia, afford us the richest insight into the life of the German countryman. Each had a right to a holding, generally of 30 morgans, on the common land, the morgan being decided according to the nature of the soil. On each holding there was a yard fenced round, closed by a gate, within which was the dwelling-house with stables and barn, and by the side of it a garden; and in the southwest of Germany frequently a vineyard. These homesteads formed villages divided by lanes; it was only in part of Lower Saxony that the inhabitants of the marsh and hilly country lived in separate farms, in the midst of their holdings. But amongst most Germans the holding is not a connected tract of land. The collective arable land of the village was divided into three portions--winter, summer, and fallow fields; each of these fields, according to soil and situation, again into small parcels; and in each of these parcels in every field each holder had his share. Thus the arable land of every holding consisted of a number of square acres which, lying dispersed through the three principal divisions of the village district, gave, as far as possible, an equal measure of land in each. Besides this, a share of the pastures, meadows, and wood of the community belonged to the holding; for round the arable land lay the meadow land of the community, and its woods, in which were the treasured acorns. Already the boundaries were carefully marked, and on the boundary hills boys received blows on their cheeks and had their ears pulled, and already was it called an old custom to set up a small bundle of straw as a warning on a forbidden footway. Already we find the property not unfrequently divided, where the vassals dwell in the house and farm, the grades of their vassalage and their burdens being various. The households of freemen also contained bondservants, who differed little from Roman slaves; only in the service of God could they be equal with the free; they shared in all the holy usages of the Church; they could become priests and perform marriages with the permission of their masters, but the master had a right over their life.

Among the farms of freemen and vassals might be found the farm of a larger landed proprietor, who had a manor house with a hall, and a great number of huts for domestics and labourers. For as yet, artisans, wheelwrights, potters, armourers, and goldsmiths were most of them bondmen; as the number of markets and cities were small, their influence in the country was still unimportant. All kinds of grain were cultivated in the fields, which are now used in our succession of crops, and in the gardens, almost all the vegetables of our markets, also gherkins, pumpkins, and melons; the laws were vigilant for the protection of the orchards. The clergy brought from Italy costly grafts, and peaches and apricots were to be found in the gardens of the wealthy. Already the old Bavarian house began to appear, formed of beams, with galleries outside, and its flat projecting roof; and it may be assumed also, that the old Saxon house with its heathen horses' heads on the gable ends, its thatched roof over the porch, its hearth, sleeping cells, and cattle stalls, spread widely over the country, and that the Thuringians, even then, as in a century later, lived in the unfloored hall, in the background of which a raised daïs--the most distinguished part of the house--separated from the hall the women's apartments and the sleeping-rooms. Dwellings were seldom without a bathhouse; for their winter work the women descended into their underground chamber, which had already astonished the Romans, where stood the loom; the places for the mistresses and servants were separated. In the court-yard fluttered numerous poultry, amongst them swans and even cranes, which, up to the Thirty Years' War, were treasured as masters of the German poultry yard. The greatest pleasure of the countryman was the training of his horse, and the steeds which were used in war were of great value. They pastured with their feet hobbled; any one was severely punished who stole them from their pasture; the impositions of horse dealers also were well known, and the laws endeavoured to afford protection against them. All the South Germans fastened bells round the necks of their cattle, and the Franconians round the swine in the woods.

Every means of ascertaining the relative number of bond and freemen in the time of Charles V. is deficient, even in that part of the country which had for a long time been won over to Christianity; yet we see distinctly that the whole strength of the nation lay in the masses of free yeomen. But even in his time, larger landed proprietors, tyrannical officials, and the not less domineering Church, eagerly endeavoured to diminish the number of the free by obtruding upon them their protection, and thus placing them under a gentle servitude. The position of the free peasant must have been frequently insupportable; the burdens laid upon him by the monarchy were very great, such as the tithes, the military service, and the supply of horses and vehicles for the journeys of the king and his officials. There was no law to protect him against the powerful, and he was especially tormented by robber hordes and the violence of his neighbours. Therefore he found safety by giving up his freedom, surrendering his house and farm into the hands of a powerful noble, and receiving it back again from him. Then he delivered to his new master as a symbol of his service, a fowl from his farm yard, and a portion of the produce of his field or of his labour as a yearly tax. In return for this, his new master undertook to defend him, and to perform his military service for him by means of his own followers.

Thus began the diminution of the national strength of Germany, the oppression of the peasants, the deterioration of the infantry, and the origin of the feudal lords, and of their vassal-followers, from which arose in the next century the higher and lower German nobility. Every internal war, every invasion of foreign enemies,--of Normans, of Hungarians, or of Sclaves,--drove numerous freemen into servitude, and without ceasing did the Church work to recommend itself or its saints as feudal lords to repentant sinners.[4]

Yet about the year 1000, under the great Saxon emperors, the free peasant had still some consciousness of strength. The bondman, indeed, was still under severe oppression; he was slightly esteemed, and obliged to give outward proof of the difference between himself and the freeman, by bad dress and short hair. The free peasant then wore the long linen or cloth dress of a similar cut to the Emperor himself; with his sword by his side he went to the assembly under the tree, or to the judgment stone of his village. And if he descended from four free ancestors, and possessed three free hides, he was, according to Saxon law, higher in rank than some of the noble courtiers who had serf blood in their veins, and whoever injured him had to make atonement as to one of princely blood. It was then he began to cultivate his fields more carefully; it appears to have been about this time that the practice arose of ploughing a second time before sowing the summer seed. In the neighbourhood of rich cloisters, fine garden-culture progressed, vineyards were carefully cultivated, and in the low countries of the Rhine, in Holland and Flanders, there was a husbandry of moor and marsh grounds, which in the next century was carried by numerous colonists of these races, into the Elbe country, and far into the east.

The peasant in the time of Otto the Great, had become a good Christian, but the old customs of the heathen faith still surrounded him in his house and fields, his phantasy filled nature, beasts, and plants with warm life. Whatever flew or bounded over his fields, whether hare, wolf, fox, or raven, were to him familiar forms, to whose character and fate he gave a human turn, and of whom with cheerful spirit he used to sing in heroic terms, or tell beautiful tales. In his house were numerous trained birds; and those were valued the highest which could comport themselves most like men. The starling repeated in a comic way the paternoster; the jackdaw welcomed him on his return home; and he rejoiced in the dance of the trained bear. He loved his cattle with all his heart, he honoured his horses, oxen, cows, and dogs with the names of the ancient gods, to whom he still continued to attach ideas of dignity and sanctity. This craving for familiar intercourse with all that surrounded him was the peculiar characteristic of the German peasant in the olden time. This great love of beasts, tame birds, dogs and horses continued long, as late as Luther's time, a few years before the great peasant war. A true-hearted peasant having in the fullness of his joy kissed his decorated foal upon the neck, a lurking monk who happened to see it, cited him before the ecclesiastical court, and inflicted a heavy fine upon him, because it was unseemly. On this account Karsthans clenched his fists at the priests.[5] In the eleventh century, the countryman still sang by his hearth the stirring heroic songs, the subject-matter of which is in part older than the great exodus,--those of Siegfried and the Virgin of Battle Brunhild, of the treachery of the Burgundian King, Gunthar; of the struggle of the strong Walthar with Hagen, and of the downfall of the Nibelungen. Though his language was clumsy in writing, it flowed from his lips solemn and sonorous, with full terminations and rich in alternations of the vowels. Still had the solemnly spoken word in prayer, in forms of law, and in invocations, a mysterious power of magic effect: not only is the meaning of the speech, but also its sound full of significance. A wise saw was the source of great good fortune to him who possessed it; it could be bought and sold, and the buyer could return it again if it was useless to him.

About the beginning of the twelfth century there was a change in the life and position of the peasant. The disquiets and passions of the Crusades reached him also by degrees. To the serf, who lived in an insecure possession of his hut, from which the landed proprietor could eject him and his children, it was very attractive to obtain, by a sign affixed to his shoulder by the hand of a priest, freedom for himself, exemption from rent and other burdens, and the protection of the Church for his family left at home. From this the Lord of the Manor was himself in danger of losing his husbandmen, and becoming a beggar by the departure of his serfs; in order therefore to avert this danger bondmen had often the inheritance of their possessions given to them, and greater personal freedom, thus the position of serfs became more favourable. Besides this, the distinction between the old freemen and bondmen, both in the agricultural districts and the cities, was obliterated by the new societies of citizens and officials. In the cities bond and free-men were under the same law; in the palaces of princes, freemen claimed the same privileges which were originally for the advantage of the vassal retinue of territorial lords, and both bond and free-men bore, as serving men, the knightly shield.

We can obtain an insight into the spirit of the country-people of this period, and many details of their life. Since the middle of the twelfth century, the manuscripts of the Hohenstaufen time have handed down to us many invaluable features of the life of the lower orders. We discover, with astonishment, from these sources, that the countryman of that time formed a portion of the national strength, very different from what he did some centuries later. The thriving peasant lived on his farm; the young people gambolled about, blythesome and fond of enjoyment, on the village green and in the lanes; the countryman passed through life in the calm consciousness of strength, the preserver of old customs, in contradistinction to the nobleman, with his new-fangled modes, who adorned himself with foreign discourse and language, and with great pretentions set up distinguished court usages in opposition to country manners. Great was the pleasure of the country people in the awakening of nature: impatiently did the maidens await the breaking forth of the first catkins on the willow and hazel; they look for the leaves that burst from the buds, and search the ground for the first flowers. The earliest summer game is with the ball, in the village streets or on the tender grass of the green,--it is thrown by old and young, men and women. Whoever has a coloured feather ball to throw sends it with a greeting to her he loves. The agile movements, the powerful throw, the short cheer to friends and opponents, are the pleasures both of players and spectators. When sunny May comes, then the maidens get their holiday attire from the press, and twine wreaths for their own hair and that of their friends. Thus they go, crowned with garlands and adorned with ribbons, the hand-glass as an ornament by their sides, with their playfellows to the green; full a hundred maidens and women are there assembled for the dance. Thither also hasten the men, smart also is their dress, the waistcoat trimmed with coloured buttons, perhaps even with bells, which for a long time had been the most choice attire of persons of distinction; there is no want of silk, nor in winter of fur trimmings. The belt is well inlaid with shining metal, the coat of mail is quilted in the dress, and the point of the sword, in walking, clinks against the heel. The proud youths are defiant, take great pleasure in fight, and are jealous of their own importance. Vehement is the energy displayed in the great dances, they are venturesome in their springs, jubilant in their joy; everywhere there is the poetry of enjoyment of the senses. The chorus of bystanders sing loudly to the dance, and the maidens join softly in the melody. Still greater becomes our astonishment when we examine closer the rhythm and words of these old national dances, there is a grace not only in the language but in its social relation, which reminds us much more of the ancient world than of the feelings of our country people. Introductory strophes, which extol in countless variations the advent of spring, are followed by others which have little coherence, and are, as it were, improvised, like the schnader hüpflen, which is still retained in Upper Germany among the popular dances. The subject is often a dispute between mother and daughter, the daughter dressing herself for the festivity, the mother wishing to keep her back from the dance; or it is the praise of a beautiful maiden, or droll enumerations of dancing couples; often the text conveys attacks upon opposite parties amongst the dancers, who are depicted and turned into ridicule. Parties are easily formed amongst the dancers, the opponents are challenged in caustic verses; the glory of the young lad is not to put up with any slight, and to be the most vigorous dancer, cheeriest singer, and the best fighter. The dances are followed by feasting, with loud and boisterous merriment. The winter brings new pleasures; the men amuse themselves with dice, and with sledging on the ice, and the people assemble in a large room for the dance. Then stools and tables are carried out; the music consists of two violins; the conductor begins the melody, and the head dancer leads off. The rondes and other dances are various in character; more antique and popular is the measure and text of the chain dance in the old national style of two parallel rows; the winter dances are more artistic and modish. For in the song dances, which we may consider as the beautified copy of the old rhythm and text, the courtly law of triplets in the strophes is everywhere followed; one perceives in them the imitation of Romanesque knightly customs. Among the different kinds of dances may be mentioned the Sclave Reidawac. The noble dances and drinks with the peasants in these village diversions, though with the pride of more refined manners; but however much he may be inclined to ridicule those around him, he fears them, not only their fists and weapons, but also the strokes of their tongues. The long-haired and curly peasant offers the goblet to the Junker, and snatches it back as he attempts to grasp it, places it then according to court custom before drinking, on his head, and dances through the room, then the knight rejoices if the goblet falls from the lout's head and is spilt over him; but the knight has no scruple in making use of contemptuous oaths, when the indignant village youths call him to account for having shown too much attention to their wives and sweethearts.

Such is the aspect of village life given us in the songs of Neidhart von Reuenthal, the most witty and humorous songster of the thirteenth century. All his poetry dwells on the joys and sufferings of the peasantry, and the greater part of his life was spent amongst them. He has the complete self-dependence of a refined and cultivated man, but in spite of that, he had not always the advantage over the country people. A peasant youth, Engelhard, occasioned him the greatest sorrow of his life. It appears that he had made his love Friderun, a peasant girl, unfaithful to him; the thorn remained in the heart of the knight as long as he lived; but afterwards, also, in his courtship of the village maidens, the nobleman had much to fear from the wooing of the young peasants, and was frequently tormented by bitter jealousy.

This connection of the knight, Neidhart, and the peasantry was no exception in the beginning of the thirteenth century; for though in the period that immediately followed, the pride of the nobles, with respect to the citizen and peasant, quickly hardened into an exclusive class feeling, yet in 1300, when knightly dignity was in great request, and pride in noble quarterings had risen high, at least in Swabia, Bavaria, and Upper Austria, still the knight married the daughter of the rich peasant, and gave him his daughter in marriage; and the rich peasant's son became vassal and knight, with one knightly shield.[6] Even in the sixteenth century this state of things continued in some provinces--for example, in the Isle of Rügen. After the Reformation also, the wealthy peasants put themselves on an equality with the nobles. They lived, as a nobleman of that time relates, arrogantly and contentiously, and these lamentable marriages were not unfrequent.

Some score of years after Neidhart, in the same districts of Germany, the idealism of knighthood, its courtly manners and refined form, were lost; a large portion of the nobles had become robbers and highwaymen. The ceaseless and sorrowful complaints of the better sort of the nobility testify how bad were the doings of the greater part. In comparison with such fellows, in spite of their privileges, the peasant might well regard his own life with pride. It was still with a sense of wealth and power that he entered on the beginning of a hard period. At this time a travelling singer, Wernher, the Gardener, gave a portraiture of the life of the peasantry, particularly rich in characteristic features--a picture of the times of the highest value, and a poem of great beauty. Unfortunately only an abstract of the contents can be given here; but even in extracts, his narrative gives a surprising insight into the life of the country people in 1240. The poem, "Helmbrecht," is edited by Moriz Haupt, according to the manuscripts in volume iv. of the Zeit periodical on German antiquity.

"The old former, Helmbrecht--in Bavaria, not far from the Austrian frontier--had a son. The blonde locks of the young Helmbrecht hung upon his shoulder; he confined them in a beautiful silk cap, embroidered with doves, parrots, and many figures. This cap had been embroidered by a nun who had run away from her cell on account of an amour, as happens to so many. From her, Helmbrecht's sister, Gotelind, learned to embroider and sew; the maiden and her mother deserved well of the nun, for they gave her a cow, much cheese, and eggs. The mother and sister attired the boy in fine linen, a doublet of mail and a sword, with a pouch and mantle, and a beautiful surcoat of blue cloth, adorned with gold, silver, and crystal buttons, which shone bright when he went to the dances; the seams were trimmed with bells, and whenever he bounded about in the dance, they tinkled in the ears of the women.

"When the proud youth was thus attired he said to his father, 'Now I will go to court; I pray you, dear father, give me somewhat to help thereto.' The father answered, 'I could easily buy you a swift steed that would leap hedge and ditch; but, dear son, desist from your journey to court. Its usages are difficult for him who has not been accustomed to it from his youth. Take the plough and cultivate the farm with me, thus will you live and die in honour. See how I live--true, honourable and upright. I give my tenths every year, and have never experienced hatred or envy throughout my life. Farmer Ruprecht will give you his daughter in marriage, and with her many sheep and pigs, and ten cows. At court you will have a hard life, and be deprived of all affection; there you will be the scorn of the real courtiers,--in vain will you endeavour to be like them; and, on the other hand, you will incur the hatred of the peasants, who will delight in revenging on you what they have lost by the noble robbers.' But the son replied, 'Silence, dear father. Never shall your sacks graze my shoulders; never will I load your waggon with dung; that would ill suit my beautiful coat and embroidered cap; and I will not be encumbered with a wife. Shall I drag on three years with a foal or an ox, when I may every day have my booty? I will help myself to strangers' cattle and drag the peasants by their hair through the hedges. Hasten, father, I will not remain with you any longer.' Then the father bought a steed, and said, 'Alas, how this is thrown away!' But the youth shook his head, looked at himself and exclaimed, 'I could bite through a stone so wild is my courage; I could even eat iron. I will gallop over the fields, without care for my life, in defiance of all the world.' On parting from him his father said, 'I cannot keep you--I give you up; but once more I warn you, beautiful youth, take care of your cap with the silken birds, and guard your long locks. You go amongst those whom men curse, and who live upon the wrongs of the people. I dreamt I saw you groping about on a staff, with your eyes out; and again I dreamt I saw you standing on a tree, your feet fall a fathom and a half from the grass. A raven and a crow sat on a branch over your head, your curly hair was entangled; on the right hand the raven combed it, and on the left the crow parted it. I repent me that I have reared you.' But the son exclaimed, 'Never will I give up my will as long as I live. God protect you, father, mother and children.'

"So he trotted off and rode up to a castle, whose lord lived by fighting, and was glad to retain any who would serve him as a trooper. There the lad became one of the retainers, and soon was the most nimble of robbers. No plunder was too small for him, and none too great; he took horses and cattle, he took mantles and coats, what others left he crammed into his sack. The first year everything went according to his wishes; his little vessel sailed with favourable winds. Then he began to think of home; he got leave of absence from the court, and rode to his father's house. All flocked together--man and maid-servant did not say, 'Welcome, Helmbrecht;' they were advised not to do so. But they said, 'Young gentleman, God give you welcome!' He answered, 'Kindeken, ik yunsch üch ein gud leven'[7] (Children, I wish you a good life). His sister ran and embraced him; then he spoke to her, 'Gratia vestra!' The old people followed, and oft embraced him; then he called to his father, 'Dieu vous salut!' and to his mother he spoke in Bohemian, 'Dobraybra!' The father and mother looked at one another, and the latter said to her husband, 'Goodman, are we not out of our senses? it is not our child; it is a Bohemian or a Wend.' The father exclaimed, 'It is a foreigner; he is not my son whom I commended to God, however like he may appear to him.' And his sister Gotelind said, 'He is not your son, he spoke Latin to me; he must truly be a priest.' And the servant, 'From what I have seen of him he must belong to Saxony or Brabant; he said ik and Kindeken; he must, undoubtedly, be a Saxon.'

"Then the master of the house spoke in homely phrase, 'Are you my son Helmbrecht? Show your respect for your mother and me by speaking a word of German, and I myself will rub down your horse--I, and not my servant.' 'Ei wat segget ihr Gebureken? min parit,[8] minen klaren Lif soll kein bureumaun nimmer angripen' (What are you boors saying? my steed and my fine body shall be touched by no boors). Then the master of the house, quite horrified, replied, 'Are you Helmbrecht, my son? In that case I will this very night boil one hen and roast another; but if you are a stranger--a Bohemian or a Wend--you may go to the winds. If you are of Saxony or Brabant, you must take your repast with you; from me you will receive nothing, though the night should last a whole year. For a Junker, such as you, I have no meal or wine; you must seek that from the nobles.'

"Now it had waxed late, and there was no host in the neighbourhood who would have received the youth, so, having weighed the matter, he said, 'Truly I am your son, I am Helmbrecht; once I was your son and servant.' The father answered 'You are not him.' 'But I am so.' 'Tell me the four names of my oxen.' Then the son mentioned the four names, 'Auer, Räme, Erke, Sonne. I have often flourished my switch over them; they are the best oxen in the world; will you recognise me now? Let the door be opened to me.' The father cried out, 'Gate and door, chamber and cupboard, shall all be opened to you now.'

"Thus the son was well received, and had a soft bed prepared for him by his sister and mother, and the latter called out to her daughter, 'Run, fetch a bolster and a soft cushion.' That was put under his arm and laid near the warm stove, and he waited in comfort till the meal was prepared. It was a supper for a lord; finely minced vegetables with good meat, a fat goose as large as a bustard, roasted on the spit, roasted and boiled fowls. And the father said, 'If I had wine it should be drunk to-day; but drink, dear son, of the best spring that ever flowed out of the earth.'

"The young Helmbrecht then unpacked his presents for his father, a whetstone, a scythe, and an axe, the best peasant-treasures in the world; for his mother, a fur cloak, which he had stolen from a priest; to his sister, Gotelind, a silk sash and gold lace, which would have better suited a lady of distinction,--he had taken it from a pedlar. Then he said, 'I must sleep, I have ridden far, and rest is needful for me to night.' He slept till late the next day in the bed over which his sister Gotelind had spread a newly washed shirt, for a sheet was unknown there.

"So the son abode with his father.

"After a time the father inquired of his son what were the court customs where he had been living. 'I also,' he said, 'went once when I was a boy, with cheese and eggs to court. The knights were then very different from now, courteous, and with good manners; they occupied themselves with knightly games, they danced and sang with the ladies; when the musician came with his fiddle, the ladies stood up, the knights advanced to them, took them elegantly by the hand, and danced featly; when that was over, one of them read out of a book about one Ernst;[9] all was carried on then with cheerful familiarity. Some shot at a mark with bow and arrows, others went out hunting and deer shooting; the worst of them would now be the best. For now those are esteemed who are liars and eaves-droppers, and truth and honour are changed for falsehood; the old tournaments are no longer the custom, others are in vogue instead of them. Formerly one heard them call out in the knightly games "Hurrah, knight, be joyful!" There now only resounds through the air, "Hunt knight, hunt; stab, strike, and mutilate this one, cut off this man's foot for me, and the hands of that one, and hang the other for me, or catch this rich man who will pay us a hundred pounds." I think, therefore, things were better formerly than now. Relate to me, my son, more of the new manners.'

"'That I will. Drinking is now the court fashion. Gentlemen exclaim "Drink, drink; if you drink this, I will drink that." They no longer sit with the ladies, but at their wine. Believe me, the old mode of life which is lived by such as you, is now abjured both by man and woman. Excommunication and outlawry are now held in derision.'

"'Son,' said the father, 'have nothing to do with court usages, they are bitter and sour. I had much rather be a peasant than a poor courtling, who must always ride for his living, and take care that his enemies do not catch, mutilate, and hang him.'

"'Father,' said the young man, 'I thank you, but it is more than a week that I have drank no wine; since then I have taken in my girdle by three holes. I must capture some cattle before my buckle will return to its former place. A rich man has done me a great injury. I saw him once riding over the standing crops of my godfather the knight; he shall pay dear for it. I shall trot off his cattle, sheep, and swine, because he has trampled over the fields of my dear godfather. I know another rich man who has also grievously injured me; he eat bread with his tartlets; by my life I will revenge that. I know yet another rich man who has occasioned me more annoyance than almost any other; I will not forgive it him, even if a bishop should intercede for him, for once when he was sitting at table he most improperly dropped his girdle. If I can seize what is called his, it shall help me to a Christmas dress. There is yet another simple fool who was unseemly enough to blow the froth of his beer into a goblet. If I do not revenge that, I will never gird sword to my side, nor be worthy of a wife. You shall soon hear of Helmbrecht.'

"The father answered 'Alack! Tell me who are the companions who taught you to rob a rich man if he eats pastry and bread together.' Then the son named his ten companions; 'Lämmerschling (lamb devourer), Schluckdenwidder (ram swallower), Höllensack (hell sack), Ruttelshrein (shake press), Kühfrass (cow destroyer), Knickekelch (goblet jerker), Wolfsgaumen (wolf's jaw), Wolfsrüssel (wolf's snout), and Wolfsdarm (wolf's gut)[10]--the last name was given by the noble Duchess of Nonarra Narreia--these are my schoolmasters.'

"The father said, 'And how do they name you?'

"I am called Schlingdengau. I am not the delight of the peasants; their children are obliged to eat porridge made with water; what the peasants have is mine; I gouge the eyes of one, I hack the back of another, I tie this one down on an ant-hill, and another I hang by his legs to a willow.'

"The father broke forth. 'Son, however violent those may be whom you have named and extolled, yet I hope, if there is a righteous God, the day will come when the hangman may seize them, and throw them off from his ladder.'

"'Father, I have often defended your geese and fowls, your cattle and fodder, from my associates, I will do it no more. You speak too much against the honour of my excellent companions. I had wished to make your daughter Gotelind the wife of my friend Lämmerschling; she would have led a pleasant life with him; but that is over now, you have spoken too coarsely against us.' He took his sister Gotelind aside, and said to her secretly, 'When my companion, Lämmerschling, first asked me about you, I said to him; you will get on well with her; if you take her do not fear that you will hang long upon the tree, she will take you down with her own hands and carry you to the grave on the cross-road, and she will fumigate your bones with frankincense and myrrh for a whole year. And if you have the good fortune to be only blinded, she will lead you by the hand along the highways and roads through all countries; if your foot is cut off, she will carry your crutches every morning to your bed; and if you lose your hand, she will cut your bread and meat as long as you live. Then said Lämmerschling to me, "I have three sacks, heavy as lead, full of fine linen, dresses, kirtles, and costly jewels, with scarlet cloth and furs. I have concealed them in a neighbouring cave, and will give them to her for a dowry." All this, Gotelind, you have lost, owing to your father; now give your hand to a peasant, with whom you may dig turnips, and at night lie on the heart of an ignoble boor. Go to your father, for mine he is not; I am sure that a courtier has been my father, from him I have my high spirit.'

"The foolish sister answered, 'Dear brother Schlingdengau, persuade your companion to marry me, I will leave father, mother, and relations.' The parents were unaware of the conversation held secretly by the brother and sister. The brother said, 'I will send a messenger to you, whom you are to follow; hold yourself in readiness. God protect you, I go from hence; the host here is as little to me as I to him. Mother, God bless you.' So he went on his old way, and told his companion his sister's wish. He kissed his hands for joy, and made obeisance to the wind that blew from Gotelind.

"Many widows and orphans were robbed of their property when the hero Lämmerschling and his wife Gotelind sat at their marriage feast. Young men actively conveyed in waggons and on horses stolen food and drink to the house of Lämmerschling's father. When Gotelind came, the bridegroom met her, and received her with, 'Welcome, dame Gotelind.' 'God reward you, Herr Lämmerschling.' So they gave each other a friendly greeting. And an old man, wise of speech, rose, and placing both in the circle, asked three times of the man and the maiden, 'Will you take each other in marriage, yea or nay?' So they were united. All sang the bridal song, and the bridegroom trod on the foot of the bride.[11] Then was the marriage feast prepared. It was wonderful how the food disappeared before the youths, as if a wind blew it from the table; they eat incessantly of everything that was brought from the kitchen by the servants, and there remained nothing but bare bones for the dogs. It is said that any one who eats so immoderately approaches his end.[12] Gotelind began to shudder and to exclaim, 'Woe to us! Some misfortune approaches; my heart is so heavy! Woe is me that I have abandoned my father and mother; whoever desires too much, will gain little; this greediness leads to the abyss of hell.'

"They had sat awhile after their meal, and the musicians had received their gifts from the bride and bridegroom, when a magistrate appeared with five men. The struggle was short; the magistrate with his five, was victorious over the ten; for a real thief, however bold he may be, and willing to confront a whole army, is defenceless against the hangman. The robbers slipped into the stove and under the benches, and he who would not have fled before four, was now by the hangman's servant alone dragged out by the hair. Gotelind lost her bridal dress, and was found behind a hedge terrified, stripped, and degraded. The skins of the cattle which the thieves had stolen were bound round their necks, as the perquisite of the magistrate. The bridegroom, in honour of the day carried only two, the others more. The magistrate could sooner have been bribed to spare a wild wolf than these robbers. Nine were hung by the hangman; the life of the tenth was allowed to the hangman as his right, and this tenth was Schlingdengau Helmbrecht; the hangman revenged the father, by putting out his eyes, and the mother, by cutting off a hand and a foot. Thus the blind Helmbrecht was led with the help of a staff, by a servant, home to his father's house.

"Hear how his father greeted him: 'Dieu salue, monsieur Blindman, go from hence, monsieur Blindman; if you delay, I will have you driven away by my servant; away with you from the door!'

"'Sir, I am your child.'

"'Is the boy become blind, who called himself Schlingdengau? Now do you not fear the threats of the hangman or all the magistrates in the world! Heigh! how you 'ate iron' when you rode off on the steed for which I gave my cattle. Begone, and never return again!'

"Again the blind man spoke. 'If you will not recognise me as your child, at least allow a miserable man to crawl into your house, as you do the poor sick; the country people hate me; I cannot save myself if you are ungracious to me.'

"The heart of the host was shaken, for the blind man who stood before him was his own flesh and blood--his son; yet he exclaimed with a scornful laugh, 'You went out daringly into the world; you have caused many a heart to sigh, and robbed many a peasant of his possessions. Think of my dream. Servant, close the door and draw the bolt; I will betake me to my rest. As long as I live, I had rather take in a stranger whom my eyes never beheld, than share my loaf with you.' Thus saying, he struck the servant of the blind man. 'I would do so to your master, if I were not ashamed to strike a blind man; take him, whom the sun hates, from before me!' Thus did the father exclaim, but the mother put a loaf in his hand as to a child. So the blind man went away, the peasants hooting and scoffing at him.

"For a whole year he endured great hardships. Early one morning when he was going through the forest to beg bread, some peasants who were gathering wood saw him, and one of them from whom he had taken a cow called to the others to help him. All of them had been injured by him, he had broken into the hut of one and stripped it; he had dishonoured the daughter of another; and a fourth, trembling like a reed with passion, said, 'I will wring his neck; he thrust my sleeping child into a sack, and when it awoke and cried, he tossed it out into the snow, so that it died.' Thus they all turned against Helmbrecht. 'Now take care of your hood.' The embroidery which the hangman had left untouched was now torn, and scattered on the road with his hair. They allowed the miserable wretch to make his confession, and one of them broke a fragment from the ground and gave it to the worthless man as gate money for hell fire. Then they hung him to a tree.

"If there be still any children living with their father and mother who feel disposed to be jovial knights, let them take warning from the fate of Helmbrecht."

Thus ends the story of young Helmbrecht, who was desirous of becoming a knight. And such on the whole we may consider was the condition and disposition of the free peasantry at the beginning of the long period of decline, which loosened the connection of the German Empire, founded the power of the great princely houses, made the burgher communities of fortified cities rich and powerful, and which was also the beginning of that wild time of self-help and free fraternization of cities, as of nobles. But the details of the changes which the German peasant underwent from 1250 to 1500, can no longer be accurately discerned by us. The wild deeds of violence and oppression of the robber-nobles, drove the helpless into the cities, and the enterprising into foreign countries. There were always opportunities of fighting under the sign of the cross against Sclavonians, Wends, and Poles, and on the east of the Elbe, broad countries were opened for the weapons and the plough of the German countryman. There was agitation also in the minds of men. The new despotism of the Roman papacy and of the fanatical Mendicant friars, drove the Katharers on the Rhine, and the Stedingers in Lower Saxony, to apostacy from the church. Where the free peasants were thickly located and favoured by the nature of their country, they rose in arms against the oppression of feudal lords. In the valleys of Switzerland and in the marsh lands on the German ocean, the associated country people gained victories over the mailed knights, which still belong to the glorious reminiscences of the people. But in the interior of Germany, the peasantry under the increasing oppression of the nobles and a degenerate church, became weaker, more incapable, and coarser; ever more powerfully did the barons lord it over them. Even the resident free peasant of Lower Saxony was cast down from the place of honour, which he once maintained above the knightly serving man. The consciousness of a higher civilisation and more refined manners caused the citizen also to despise the countryman,--his love of eating, his rough simplicity, and his crafty shrewdness were treated with endless derision.

And yet the countryman in the fifteenth century still retained much of his good old habits and somewhat of his old energy. He still continued to extol his own calling in his songs, and was inclined to view with ridicule the unstable life of others. In a well-known popular song, three sisters married--one a nobleman, another a musician, and the third a peasant. Both brothers-in-law came with their wives to pay a visit at the peasant's farm. "There the gay musician played, the hungry nobleman danced, and the peasant sat and laughed." At the end of the fifteenth century a dancing scene in a Hessian village is described in a city poem, the same customs as in the time of Neidhart, only wilder and coarser. The proud labourers come from different villages, armed with halberds and pikes, to dance under the Linden tree; the parties are divided by distinctive marks, willow and birch twigs and hop leaves on the shoulder and on the cap. From one village the whole four-and-twenty labourers are clothed in red plush, with yellow waistcoat and breeches. A gaily-attired maiden, a favourite dancer, will only dance with one party, sharp words follow, and weapons are drawn, the citizen, being a clerk, is persecuted with such forcible, pungent words, that he is obliged to withdraw himself by ignominious flight from the wild company.[13]

The life of the countryman within the village gates was still rich in festivals and poetical usages, his privileges--so far as they were not interfered with by deeds of violence--were valuable, and interwoven with his life; and all his occupations were established by customs and etiquette, by ceremonies and dramatic co-operation with his village association.

But the oppression under which he lived became insupportable. After the end of the fifteenth century he began to make a powerful resistance to his masters.

It is probable that the great agitation in the European money-market contributed to the excitement of the countryman. The sinking of the value of metal since the discovery of America, was considered by producers at first as a lasting rise in the price of corn. To the peasant every sheffel of corn, and his labour also, became of higher value; and, in the same measure, both were of higher importance to the landed proprietor. It was natural, therefore, that the peasant should take a proportionate view of his freedom, and here and there think of relief from his burdens, whilst it became the interest of the landed proprietor to maintain his servitude--nay, even to increase it. Yet, one need not ascribe the great movement to such reasons. The pride of victory of the Swiss who had prostrated the Knights of Burgundy, the self-dependence of the new Landsknechts, and, above all, the religious movement, and the social turn which it took in South Germany, made a deep impression on the mind of the peasant. For the first time his condition was viewed by the educated with sympathy. The countryman was almost suddenly introduced into the literature as a judge and associate. His grievances against the priesthood, and also against the landed proprietors, were ever brought forward in popular language with great skill. A few years before, he had played the standing rôle of a clown in the shrove-tide games of the Nürembergers, but now even Hans Sachs[14] wrote dialogues full of hearty sympathy with his condition, and the portraiture of the simple, intelligent, and industrious peasant, called Karsthans,[15] was repeatedly assumed, in order to show the sound judgment and wit of the people against the priests.

But, dangerous as the great peasant insurrection appeared for many weeks, and manifold as were the characters and passions which blazed forth in it, the peasants themselves were little more than an undulating mass; the greater part of their demagogues and leaders belonged to another class; on the whole, it appears to us that the intelligence and capacity of the leaders, whether peasants or others, was but small, and equally small the warlike capacity of the masses. Therefore here where the peasant for the first time is powerfully influenced by the literary men of the period, more pleasure is experienced in the contemplation of the minds that roused up his soul. It was the case here, as it always is in popular insurrections, that the masses were first excited by those who were more influential and far-sighted, nobler and more refined; then they lost the mastery, which was seized by vain, coarse demagogues, like Andreas Karlstadt and Thomas Münzer. But the way in which, in this case, the more rational lost their control is specially characteristic of that time.

Next to Luther, no individual before the war exercised so powerful an influence on the dispositions of the country people of Southern Germany, as a barefooted Franciscan, who came among the people at Ulm from the cloisters of the Franciscan monastery, Johann Eberlin von Günzburg. He had many of the qualities of a great agitator, and was one of the most amiable among those that figure in the early period of the Reformation. More than any other, he took up the social side of the movement. In the year 1521, he published, anonymously, in the national form of a small popular flying sheet, his ideal of a new state and a new social life. The old claims which were subsequently drawn up by a preacher, in twelve articles, for the peasantry, are to be found, with many others, collectively in the fifteen "Bundesgenossen."[16] The eloquence of Eberlin irresistibly influenced the listening multitudes; a flow of language, a poetical strain, a genial warmth, and at the same time a vein of good humour and of dramatic power, made him a favourite wherever he appeared. To that was added a harmless self-complacency, and just sufficient enjoyment of the present moment, as was necessary to make his success valuable and the persecutions of his opponents bearable. And yet he was only a dexterous demagogue. When he left his order from honourable convictions, with a heart passionately excited by the corruption of the church and the distress of the people, he could hardly pass, even according to the standard of the time, for an educated man; it was only by degrees that he became clear on certain social questions; then he conscientiously endeavoured to recal his former assertions; with whatever complacency he may speak of himself, there is always a holy earnestness in him concerning the truth. He had, withal, a quiet, aristocratic bias; he was the child of a citizen; his connections were people of consideration, and even of noble origin; coarse violence was contrary to his nature, in which a strong common sense was incessantly at work to control the ebullition of his feelings. He clung with great devotion to all his predecessors who had advanced his education, especially to the Wittemberg reformers. After he had restlessly roamed about the South of Germany for many years, he went to Wittemberg; there Melancthon powerfully influenced the fiery southern German; he became quieter, more moderate, and better instructed. But later he belonged--like his monastic companion, Heinrich von Kettenbach--to the preachers who collected round Hutten and Sickengen. This personal union, which lasted up to Sickengen's catastrophe, kept the national movement in a direction which could not last. For a short time it appeared as if the religious and social movement of South Germany, even if not led, could be made use of, by the noble landed proprietors; it was an error into which both the knights and their better friends fell; neither Hutten nor Sickengen had sufficient strength or insight to win the country people really to them. This came to light when Sickengen was overpowered by the neighbouring princes. The peasants became the most zealous assistants of the princes in persecuting the junkers of the Sickengen party and burning their castles; this warfare may, indeed, be considered as the prelude to the present war. It had unshackled the country people in the neighbouring provinces, and accustomed them to the pulling down of castles. A dialogue of the year 1524 has been preserved to us, in which the fury of the country people against the nobles already breaks forth.[17]

From that period the decided demagogues gained the ear of the peasants, and the moderate amongst the popular leaders lost their supremacy. Eberlin had once more, at Erfurt, an opportunity of showing, as a mediator, the power of his eloquence over the revolted peasant hosts; under its influence the assembled populace fell on their knees, pious and penitent; but the weakness of his advice made this last endeavour fruitless. He died the following year, and with him passed away most of the poetry of the Reformation.

Cruelly was the revolt against the terrified princes punished, and the smaller tyrants were the most eager to bring the conquered again under their yoke. Yet in South Germany and Thuringia there was a real improvement in the condition of the country people; for it happened at a period in which a learned class of jurists spread over the country, and the working of Roman law in Germany became everywhere perceptible. The point of view taken by the jurists of the Roman school, of the relations between the landed proprietors and their villeins, was indeed not always favourable to the latter; for the lawyers were inclined to fix every kind of subjection upon the peasant from the deficiency in his right of property in his holding; but they were equally ready to recognise his personal freedom. Thus, in the first half of the sixteenth century, the old serfdom which still existed in a very harsh form in many provinces was mitigated, and villeinage substituted. Besides this, a more patriarchal feeling began to prevail among the higher German Sovereigns, and in the new ordinances which they projected in conjunction with their clergy, the welfare of the peasantry was taken into consideration. This was the case above all with the Wettiner princes in Franconia, Thuringia, and Meissen; and, lastly, with Elector August. The authority, also, of the Saxon chancery, which had been established in Germany since the fifteenth century, contributed essentially to this, by making the Saxon laws a pattern for the rest of Germany.

But some ten years before the Thirty Years' War, an advance in the pretensions of the nobles became apparent, at least in the provinces beyond the Elbe; for example, in Pommerania and Silesia. Under weak rulers the courtly influence of the nobility increased, the constant money embarrassments of the princes raised the independence of the States, which granted the taxes; and the peasants had no representatives in the States, except in the Tyrol, East Friesland, the old Bailiwick of Swabia, and a few small territories. The landed proprietors indemnified themselves for the concessions made to the princes by double exactions on the peasantry. Serfdom was formally re-established in Pommerania in 1617.

It was just at this period of reaction that the Thirty Years' War broke out. It devastated alike the houses of the nobles and the huts of the peasants. It brought destruction on man and beast, and corrupted those that were left.[18]

After the great war--in the period which will be here portrayed--a struggle began on the part of the landed proprietors and the newly established Government against the wild practices of the war time. The countryman had learned to prefer the rusty gun to handling the plough. He had become accustomed to perform court service, and his mind was not rendered more docile by disbanded soldiers having settled themselves on the ruins of the old village huts. The peasant lads and servants bore themselves like knights, wearing jack-boots, caps faced with marten's fur, hats with double bands, and coats of fine cloth; they carried rifles and long-handled axes when they came together in the cities, or assembled on Sundays. At one time perhaps these had been useful against robbers and wild beasts; but it had become far more dangerous to the nobles and their bailiffs, and still more insupportable to their villeins,--it was always rigorously forbidden.[19] The settlement of disbanded soldiers, who brought their prize money into the village, was welcome; but whoever had once worn a soldier's dress revolted against the heavy burdens of the bondsman. It was, therefore, established that whoever had served under a banner became free from personal servitude; only those who had been camp-followers continued as bondsmen. The inhabitants of the different States had been interspersed during the war; subjects had wilfully changed their dwellings, and established themselves on other territories, with or without the permission of the new lords of the manor. This was insupportable, and a right was given to the landed proprietor to fetch them back; and if the new lord of the manor thought it his interest to protect them, and refused to give them up, force might be used to recover them. Thus the noblemen rode with their attendants into a district to catch such of their villeins as had escaped without pass-tickets.[20]--The opposition of the people must have been violent, for the ordinances even in the provinces, where villeinage was most strict--as, for example, in Silesia--were obliged to recognise that the villeins were free people, and not slaves. But this remained a theoretical proposition, and was seldom attended to in the following century. The depopulation of the country, and the deficiency in servants and labourers, was very injurious to the landowner. All the villagers were forbidden to let rooms to single men or women; all such lodgers were to be taken before the magistracy, and put into prison in case they should refuse domestic service, even if they maintained themselves by any other occupation--such as labouring for the peasant for daily hire, or carrying on business with money or corn.[21] Through a whole generation we find, in the ordinances of the territorial lords, bitter complaints against the malicious and wilful menials who would not yield to their hard conditions, nor be content with the pay assigned by law. It was forbidden to individual proprietors to give more than the tax established by the provincial States. Nevertheless, the conditions of service shortly after the war are sometimes better than they were a hundred years later; in 1652 menials in Silesia had meat twice in the week; but in our century there are provinces where they get it only three times in the year.[22] The daily pay also was higher immediately after the war than in the following century.

Thus was an iron yoke again bound slowly round the necks of the undisciplined country people, closer and harder than before the war. During the war small villages, and still more the single farms, which had been so favorable to the independence of the peasants, had vanished from the face of the earth; in the Palatinate, for example, and on the hills of Franconia, they had been numerous, and even in the present day their names cling to the soil. The village huts concentrated themselves in the neighbourhood of the manor house, and control over the weak community was easier when under the eye of the lord or his bailiff. What was the course of their life in the time of our fathers will be distinctly seen when one examines more closely the nature of their service. A cursory glance at it will appear to the youth of the present generation like a peep into a strange and fearful world. The conditions under which the German country people suffered were undoubtedly various. Special customs existed, not only in the provinces, but in almost every community. If the names by which the different services and imposts were designated were arranged they would form an unpleasant vocabulary.[23] But, notwithstanding the difference in the names and extent of these burdens, there was an unanimity throughout the whole of Europe on the main points, which is, perhaps, more difficult to explain than the deviations.

The tenths were the oldest tax upon the countryman--the tenth sheaf, the tenth portion of slaughtered beasts, and even a tenth of wine, vegetables and fruit. It was probably older in Western Germany than Christianity, but the early church of the middle ages cunningly claimed it on the authority of scripture. It did not, however, succeed in retaining it only for itself; it was obliged to share it with the rulers, and often with the noble landed proprietors. At last it was paid by the agricultural peasant, either as a tax to the ruler or to his landlord, and besides as the priest's tithe to his church. However low his harvest yield might be valued, the tenth sheaf was far more than the tenth share of his clear produce.

But the countryman had, in the first place, to render service to the landed proprietor, both with his hands and with his team; in the greatest part of Germany, in the middle ages, three days a week,--thus he gave half of the working time of his life. Whoever was bound to keep beasts of burden on his property was obliged to perform soccage, in the working hours, with the agricultural implements and tools till sunset; the poorer people had to do the same with hand labour--nay, according to the obligations of their tenure, with two, four, or more hands, and even the days were appointed by the landlords: they were well off if during such labour they received food. These obligations of ancient times were, in many cases, increased after the war by the encroachments of the masters--chiefly in Eastern Germany. These soccage days were arbitrarily divided into half or even quarter days, and thereby the hindrance to the countryman and the disorder to his own farm were considerably increased. The number of the days was also increased. Such was the case even in the century which we, with just feelings of pride, call the humane. In the year 1790, just when Goethe's "Torquato Tasso" made its first appearance in the refined court of Saxony, the peasants of Meissen rose against the landowners, because they had so immoderately increased the service that their villeins seldom had a day free for their own work.[24] Again in 1799, when Schiller's "Wallenstein" was exciting the enthusiasm of the warlike nobility of Berlin, Frederick William III. was obliged to issue a cabinet order, enjoining on his nobility not to lay claim to the soccage of the peasants more than three days in the week, and to treat their people with equity.

The second burden on the villeins was the tax on change of property by death or transfer; the heriot and fine on alienation. The best horse and the best ox were once the price which the heir of a property had to pay to the landowner for his fief. This tax was long ago changed into money. But though in the sixteenth century, even in countries where the peasant was heavily oppressed, the provincial ordinances allowed that peasant's property might be bought and sold, and that the lord of the peasant who sold could take no deduction upon it,[25] yet in the same province in 1617, before the Thirty Years' War, it was established that landlords might compel their villeins against their will to sell their property, and that in case no purchaser should be found they themselves might buy it at two-thirds of the tax. It was under Frederick the Great that the inheritance and rights of property of villeins were first secured to them in most of the provinces of the kingdom of Prussia. This ordinance helped to put an end to a burden on the country people which threatened to depopulate the country. For in the former century, after the landowners had resolved to increase the revenue of their estates, they found it advantageous to rid themselves of some of their villeins, whose holdings they attached to their own property. The poor people, thus driven from their homes, fell into misery; and the burdens became quite unbearable to the remaining villeins, for they were expected by the landed proprietor to cultivate those former holdings, whose possessors had hitherto by their labour assisted in the cultivation of the whole estate. This system of ejection had become particularly bad in the east of Germany. When Frederick II. conquered Silesia there were many thousand farms without occupiers; the huts lay in ruins, and the fields were in the hands of the landed proprietors. All the separate homesteads had to be reformed and reoccupied, furnished with cattle and implements, and given up to the farmer as his own heritable property. In Rügen this grievance occasioned a rising of the peasantry, in the youth of Ernst Moritz Arndt; soldiers were sent thither, and the rioters were put in prison; the peasants endeavoured to revenge themselves for this by laying in wait for and slaying individual noblemen. In the same way in Electoral Saxony as late as 1790 this grievance occasioned a revolt.

The children also of villeins were subject to compulsory service. If they were capable of work they were brought before the authorities, and, if these demanded it, had to serve some time, frequently three years, on the farm. To serve in other places it was necessary to have a permit, which must be bought. Even those who had already served elsewhere had once a year--frequently about Christmas--to present themselves to the lord of the manor for choice. If the child of a villein entered into a trade or any other occupation, a sum had to be paid to the authorities for a letter of permission. It was considered a mitigation of the old remains of feudalism, when it was decided that the daughters of peasants might marry on to other properties without indemnifying their lord. But then the new lord had to greet the other in a friendly letter in acknowledgment of this emancipation.[26] The price which the villein had to give for the emancipation of himself and his family varied extremely, according to the period and the district. Under Frederick II. it was reduced in Silesia to one ducat per head. But this was an unusually favourable rate for the villein. In Rügen, at a still later date, the emancipation was left to the valuation of the proprietor; it could even be refused: a fine-looking youth had there to pay full a hundred and fifty, and a pretty girl fifty or sixty, thalers.

But the peasant was employed in other ways by the landed proprietor. He was bound to aid, with his hands and teams, in the cultivation of the estate; he was also bound to act as messenger. Whoever wished to go to the town had first to ask the bailiff and lord of the manor whether they had any orders. No householder could, except in special cases, remain a night out of the village without the previous sanction of the magistrate of the place. He was obliged to furnish a night watch of two men for the nobleman's mansion. He had, when a child of the lord of the manor was to be married, to bring a contribution of corn, small cattle, honey, wax, and linen to the castle; finally, he had almost everywhere to carry to his lord his rent-hens and eggs, the old symbol of his dependence for house and farm.

But what was still more repugnant to the German peasant than many greater burdens, was the landlord's right of chase over his fields. The fearful tyranny with which the right of chase was practised by the German princes in the middle ages, was renewed after the Thirty Years' War. The peasant was forbidden to carry a gun, and poachers were shot down. Where the cultivated ground bordered on the larger woods, or where the lord of the manor held the supreme right of chase, a secret and often bloody war was carried on for centuries betwixt the foresters and poachers. As long as wolves continued to prowl about the villages, the irritated peasant dug holes round the margin of the wood which he covered with branches, and the bottom of them was studded with pointed stakes. He called them wolf-pits, but they were well known to the law as game-traps, and were forbidden under severe penalties. He ventured to let such portions of ground as were most exposed to be injured by game, to soldiers or cities, but that also was forbidden him; he endeavoured to defend his fields by hedges, and his hedges were broken down. In the Erzgebirge of Saxony the peasants, in the former century, had watched by their ripening corn; then huts were built on the fields, fires were lighted in the night, the watchers called out and beat the drum, and their dogs barked; but the game at last became accustomed to these alarms, and feared neither peasant nor dog. In Electoral Saxony, at the end of a former century, under a mild government, where a moderate tax might be paid as indemnity for damage to game, it was forbidden to erect fences for fields above a certain height, or to employ pointed stakes, that the game might not be injured, nor prevented seeking its support on the fields, till at last fourteen communities in the Hohnstein bailiwick in a state of exasperation combined for a general hunt, and frightened the game over the frontier. The logs which the sheep dogs wore round their necks were not sufficient to hinder them from hurting the hares, so they were held by cords on the fields. But the countrymen were bound, when the lord of the manor went to the chase, to go behind the nets and, as beaters, to swing the rattles. The coursing, moreover, spoilt his fields, as the riders with their greyhounds uprooted and trampled on the seed.

To these burdens, which were common to all, were added numerous local restrictions, of which only some of the more widely diffused will be here mentioned. The number of cattle that villeins were permitted to keep was frequently prescribed to them according to the extent of their holdings. A portion of the pasture land upon his holding before seed time, and of the produce after the harvest, belonged to the landowner. This right, to which pretensions had been already made in the middle ages, became a severe plague in the last century, when the noblemen began increasing their flocks of sheep. For they made demands on the peasants' fields generally, when fodder for cattle was failing: how, then, could the peasants maintain their own animals?

As early as 1617 it was held as a maxim in Silesia, that peasants must not keep sheep unless they possessed an old authorisation for it. The keeping of goats was altogether forbidden in many places. This old prohibition is one of the reasons why the poor in wide districts of Eastern Germany are deprived of these useful animals. Elector August of Saxony in 1560 denounced in his ordinances the pigeons of the peasants, and since that time they have been prohibited in other provincial ordinances. Other tyrannies were devised by the love of game. Shortly after the war it was held to be the duty of peasants to offer everything saleable, in the first instance, to the lord of the manor,--dung, wool, honey, and even eggs and poultry: if the authorities would not take his goods, he was bound to expose them for a fixed period in the nearest town; it was only then that the sale became free. But it was truly monstrous, when the authorities compelled their subjects to buy goods from the manorial property which they did not need. These barbarisms were quite common, at least in the East of Germany, after 1650, especially in Moravia, Bohemia, and Silesia. When the great proprietors drew their ponds and could not sell the fish, the villeins were obliged to take them, in proportion to their means, at a fixed rate. The same was the case with butter, cheese, corn, and cattle. This was the cause of so many of the country people in Bohemia becoming small traders, as they had to convey these goods into neighbouring countries, often to their own great loss.[27] In vain did the magistrates in Silesia in 1716 endeavour to check this abuse.[28]

We will only mention here the worst tyranny of all. The nobleman had seigneurial rights: he decreed through the justices, who were dependent on him, the punishments of police offences: fines, imprisonment, and corporal punishment. He was also in the habit of using the stick to the villeins when they were at work. Undoubtedly there was already in the sixteenth century, in the provincial ordinances, a humane provision, which prohibited the nobles from striking their villeins; but in the two following centuries this prohibition was little attended to. When Frederick the Great re-organized Silesia, he gave the peasants the right of making complaint to the government against severe bodily punishment! And this was considered a progress!

But other burdens also weighed upon the life of the peasant. For, beside the landowner, the territorial ruler also demanded his impost or contribution, a land-tax or poll-tax; he could impress the son of the peasant under his banner, and demand waggons and gear for relays in time of war. And again, above the territorial ruler, was the Holy Roman Empire of the German nation, which claimed in those parts of Germany where the constitution of the circles was still in force, a quota for their exchequers.

The peasants, however, were not everywhere under the curse of bondage. In the old domain of the Ripuarian Franks, the provinces on the other side of the Rhine from Cleves to the Moselle, and the Grafschaft of Mark, Essen, Werden, and Berg, had already in the middle ages freed themselves from bondage: those who had not property as landowners were freemen with leases for life. In the rest of Germany, freedom had taken refuge in the southern and northern frontiers, on the coasts of the North Sea and among the Alps. East Friesland, the marsh lands on the coasts of the Weser and the Elbe up to Ditmarschen,--those almost unconquerable settlements of sturdy peasant communities,--have remained free from the most ancient times. In the south, the Tyrol and the neighbouring Alps, at least the greatest portion of them, were occupied by free country-people; in Upper Austria also the free peasantry were numerous; and in Steiermark the tenths, which was the chief tax paid to the landed proprietors, was less oppressive than soccage was elsewhere. Wherever the arable land was scarce, and the mountain pastures afforded sustenance to the inhabitants, the legal condition of the lower orders was better. On the other hand, in the countries of old Saxony from the time of the Carlovingians, with the exception of a few free peasant holdings, a severe state of bondage had been developed. The Brunswickers, the dwellers on the Church lands of Bremen and Verden, were in the most favourable condition, those of Hildesheim and the Grafschaft of Hoya in the worst. In the bishopric of Münster the soccage service of villeins was generally changed into a moderate money payment; the only thing that pressed heavily on them was the compulsory leading, and the necessity of buying exemption from their burdens. On the other hand, the right of the landed proprietor over the inheritance of villeins existed to the greatest extent. As late as the year 1800 the country-people, who--exceptionally--desired to save money, endeavoured to preserve their property to their heirs, by fictitious transactions with the citizens; consequently more than a fourth portion of the Münster land remained uncultivated. A similar condition, in a somewhat milder form, existed in the bishopric of Osnabruck. Among the races of the interior, Hessians, Thuringians, Bavarians, Suabians, and Allemanni, the number of free peasants was continually decreasing during the whole of the middle ages: it was only in Upper Bavaria that they still formed a powerful part of the population. In Thuringia also the number of freemen was not inconsiderable. There the rule of the princes over the serf peasantry was lenient.

Far worse, except in a large part of Holstein, was the condition of all the countries east of the Elbe,--in fact wherever Germans colonized Sclave countries, that is almost half present Germany; but worst of all was the life of the villeins in Bohemia and Moravia, in Pomerania and Mecklenberg: in the last province villeinage is not yet abolished. It was in these countries that villeinage became more oppressive after the Thirty Years' War; only the free peasants, and the "Erb-und Gerichtsscholtiseien," as they were still called in memory of the circumstances of the old Germanization, formed themselves into a pauper aristocracy.

In the last century it might easily be perceived, from the agriculture and the prosperity of the villagers, whether they were freemen or serfs; and even now we may sometimes still discover, from the intelligence and personal appearance of the present race, what was the condition of their fathers. The peasants on the Lower Rhine, the Westphalian inhabitants of the marshes, the East Frieslanders, the Upper Austrians and Upper Bavarians, attained a certain degree of prosperity soon after the war; on the other hand, the remaining Bavarians, about the year 1700, complained that the third portion of their fields lay waste, and we learn of Bohemia in 1730 that the fourth part of the ground which had been under culture before the Thirty Years' War was overgrown with wood. The value of land there was lower by one half than in the other provinces.

Undoubtedly those freemen were to be envied who felt the advantage of their better position, but only a small portion were so fortunate. Generally, even in the eighteenth century, freemen with little or no land of their own, preferred being received as villeins on some great landed property. When Frederick I. of Prussia, shortly after 1700, wished to free the serfs in Pomerania, they refused it, because they considered the new duties imposed upon them more severe than what they had hitherto borne. And in fact the free peasants were scarcely less burdened with new service than those who had been the villeins of the old time.

It is difficult to judge impartially of the human condition which developed itself under this oppression. For such a life looks very different in daily intercourse, to what it does in the statute-book. Much that appears insupportable to us was made bearable by ancient custom. Undoubtedly the kind-hearted benevolence of the nobles, of old families who had grown up with their country-people through many generations, mitigated the severity of servitude, and a cordial connexion existed between master and serfs. Still more frequently the brutal selfishness of the masters was softened and kept within bounds by that prudence which now influences the American slaveholders. The landed proprietor and his family passed their lives among the peasants, and if he endeavoured to instil fear, he also had cause for fear. Easily on a stormy night might the flames be kindled among his wooden farm buildings, and no province was without its dismal stories of harsh landlords or bailiffs who had been slain by unknown hands in field or wood. However much we may admit the goodness or prudence of masters, the position of the peasants still remains the darkest feature of the past time. For we find everywhere in the scanty records of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries an unhealthy antagonism of classes. And it was the larger portion of the German people which was ruined by this oppression.[29]

Men even of uncommon strength and intelligence seldom succeeded in extricating themselves from the proscribed boundaries by which their life was fenced in. Ever greater became the chasm which separated them from the smaller portion of the nation, who, by their perukes, bagwigs, and pigtails, showed from afar that they belonged to a privileged class. Up to the end of the seventeenth century these polished classes seldom entertained a friendly feeling towards the peasant; on all sides were to be heard complaints of his obduracy, dishonesty, and coarseness. At no period was the suffering portion of the people so harshly judged as in that, in which a spiritless orthodoxy embittered the souls of those who had to preach the gospel of love. None were more eager than the theologians in complaining of the worthlessness of the country people, among whom they had to live; they always heard hell-hounds howling round the huts of the villeins; their whole conception of life was, indeed, dark, pedantic, and joyless. A well-known little book, from the native district of Christopher von Grimmelshausen, is especially characteristic. This book, entitled "Des Bauerstands Lasterprob"--the exposure of the vices of the peasant class[30]--never ceased to point out from the deeds of the villagers, that the lives of the peasantry, from the village justice to the goose-herd, were worthless and godless; that they were in the habit of representing themselves as poor and miserable, and of complaining on all occasions; that they were rude and overbearing to those whom they did not fear; that they considered none as their friends, and ungratefully deceived their benefactors. This book is much more cruel than "The Lexicon of Deceit," by the hypochondriacal Coburger Hönn, which some centuries later analysed the impositions of all classes,--and amongst others, those of the peasants,--alphabetically, morosely, and with apt references.

To such defects, which are peculiar to the oppressed, others must, indeed, be added, the consequences of the long war and its demoralization. In the rooms of the village inns, about 1700, neither candlesticks nor snuffers were to be seen, for everything had been pilfered by the wayfarers; even the prayer-book had been stolen from the host; a small looking-glass was a thing not to be thought of, though 500 years earlier the village maiden, when she adorned herself for the dance, took her little hand-glass with her as an ornament; and if a householder lodged carriers, he was obliged to conceal all portable goods, and to lock up all barns and hay-lofts. It was even dangerous sometimes for a traveller to set foot in an inn. The desolate room was filled, not only with tobacco-smoke, but also with the fumes of powder; for it was a holiday amusement of the country people to play with powder, and to molest unlucky strangers by throwing squibs or small rockets before their feet or on their perukes; this was accompanied by railery and abuse.[31] We are frequently disposed to observe with astonishment, in these and similar complaints of contemporaries, how the German nature maintained, amidst the deepest degradation, a vital energy which, more than a hundred years after, made the beginning of a better condition possible; and we may sometimes doubt whether to admire the patience, or to lament the weakness, which so long endured such misery; for, in spite of all that party zeal has ever said in excuse of these servile relations, they were an endless source of immorality both to the masters, their officials, and to the people themselves. The sensuality of landed proprietors, and the self-interest of magistrates and stewards, were exposed to daily temptation at a period when a feeling of duty was weak in all classes. More than once did the sluggish provincial governments exert themselves to prevent bailiffs from compelling the peasant to feed cattle, sow linseed, and spin for them; and foresters were in ill repute who carried on traffic with the peasants, and winked at their proceedings when the stems of the lordly wood were felled.[32] What was the feeling of the country people against the landed proprietors, may be concluded from the wicked proverb which became current about 1700, and fell from the mouth of the rich Mansfeld peasant--"The young sparrows and young nobles should have their heads broken betimes."[33]

Slowly did the dawn of a new day come to the German peasant. If we would seek from whence arose the first rays of the new light, we shall find them, together with the renovation of the people, in the studies of the learned, who proclaimed the science, which was the most strange and most incomprehensible to the country-people, then called philosophy. After the teaching of Leibnitz and Wolff had found scholars in a larger circle of the learned, there was a sudden change in the views held about the peasant and his state. Everywhere began a more human conception of earthly things, the struggle against the orthodox errors. We find, again, in the scholars and proclaimers of the new philosophy, somewhat of the zeal of an apostle to teach, to improve, and to free. Soon after 1700 a hearty interest in the life of the peasant appears again in the small literature. The soundness of his calling, the utility and blessings of his labour, were extolled, and his good qualities carefully sought out; his old songs, in which a manly self-consciousness finds graceful expression, and which had once been polished by the single-minded theologians of the sixteenth century, were again spread in cheap publications. In these the poor countryman modestly boasts that agriculture was founded by Adam; he rejoices in "his falconry"; the larks in the field, the swallows in the straw of his roof, and the cocks in the farm-yard; and amidst his hard labour again seeks comfort in the "heavenly husbandman, Jesus."[34]

On the other hand, there was even help in the severity of a despotic State. The oppressed peasant gave, through his sons, to the ruler the greater part of his soldiers, and, through his taxes, the means of keeping up the new State. By degrees it was discovered that such material ought to be taken care of. About 1700 this may everywhere be perceived in the provincial laws. The Imperial Court, also, was influenced in its way by this awakening philanthropy. In 1704 it even gave a grand privilege to the shepherds, wherein it declared them and their lads honourable, and graciously advised the German nation to give up the prejudice against this useful class of men, and no longer to exclude their children from being artisans, on account of magic and plying the knacker's trade. A few years afterwards it gave armorial bearings; it also granted them the rights of a corporate body, with seal, chest, and banner, on which a pious picture was painted.[35] More stringent was the interference of the Hohenzollerns, who were themselves, during four generations, the princely colonists of Eastern Germany. Frederick II. made the most fundamental reforms in the conquered provinces; many examples are cited of the blessings resulting from them. When he took possession of Silesia, the village huts were block-houses, formed from the stems of trees, and roofed with straw or shingles, without brick chimneys; the baking ovens, joined on to the houses, exposed them to the danger of fires; the husbandry was in a pitiful plight; great commons and pastures covered with mole-hills and thistles, small weak horses, and lean cows; and the landed proprietors were for the most part harsh despots, against whom the clumsy Imperial and magisterial administration could scarcely enforce any law. The King carried on three severe wars in Silesia, during which his own soldiers, the Austrians, and the Russians, consumed and ravaged the province. Yet, only a few years after the Seven Years' War, 250 new villages and 2000 new cottages were erected, and frequently stone houses and tiled roofs were to be seen. All the wooden chimneys and all the clay ovens had been pulled down by the conqueror, and the people were compelled to build anew; horses were brought from Prussia, and the sheep shorn once in the year; peat cutters from Westphalia, and silkworm-breeders from France, were introduced into the country. Oaks and mulberries were planted, and premiums were given for the laying out of vineyards. At his command the new potato was introduced; at the beginning of the Seven Years' War, by the celebrated patent of the Minister of Justice, von Carmer, commons and general pastures were abolished, and divided among separate holders. With far-sighted forethought, a state of things was introduced which has only recently been carried out. The inheritance of property, also, was secured by law to the villeins. The peasant obtained the right of complaint to the royal government, and this right became for him a quick and vigorous law, for, however much the King favoured the nobility when it was serviceable to the State, yet he was constantly occupied, together with his officials, in elevating the mass of tax-payers. The most insignificant might present his petition, and the whole people knew, from numerous examples, that the King read them. Many of this great Prince's attempts at civilization did not succeed; but on all sides the pressure of a system was felt which so assiduously raised the strength of the people, in order to utilise them to the utmost in the State. Nowhere is the work of this mighty ruler so thankfully acknowledged by contemporaries as by the peasantry of the conquered province. When, on his numerous journeys through Silesia, the country-people thronged round his carriage with respectful awe, every look, every fleeting word that he addressed to a village magistrate was treasured as a dear remembrance, handed down carefully from generation to generation, and still lives in all hearts.

Ever greater became the sympathy of the literary classes. It is true that poetry and art did not yet find in the life of the peasant, material which could foster a creative spirit. When Goethe wrote "Hermann and Dorothea," it was a new discovery for the nation that the petty citizen was worthy of artistic notice; it was long, however, before any one ventured lower among the people; but the honourable philanthropists, the popular promulgators of enlightenment in the burgher classes, preached and wrote with hearty zeal upon the singular, uncouth, and yet numerous fellow-creature, the peasant, whose character frequently only appeared to consist of an aggregate of unamiable qualities, but who, nevertheless, was undeniably the indispensable foundation of the other classes of human society.

One of the most influential writings of this kind was by Christian Garve, "Upon the Character of the Peasants, Breslau, 1786," taken from lectures given shortly before the outbreak of the French revolution. The author was a clear-sighted, upright man, who was anxious for the public weal, and was listened to with respect throughout the whole of Germany, whenever he spoke upon social questions. His little book has a thoroughly philanthropic tendency; the life of the peasant was accurately known by him as it was by many others who were then occupied with the improvement of the country people. The propositions which he makes for the elevation of the class are sensible, but unsatisfactory; as indeed are almost all theories with respect to social evils. Yet, when we scan the contents of this well-meaning book, we are seized with alarm; not at what he relates concerning the oppression of the peasant, but at the way in which he himself seems necessitated to speak of two-thirds of the German people. They are strangers to him and his contemporaries: it is something new and attractive to their philanthropy to realize the condition of these peculiar men. There is an especial charm to a conscientious and feeling mind in ascertaining clearly, what is the exact nature and cause of the stupidity, coarseness, and evil qualities of the country people. The author even compares their position with that of the Jews; he discusses their condition of mind much in the same way that our philanthropists do those of gaol prisoners; he sincerely wishes that the light of humanity may fall on their huts; he compares their sloth and indolence with the energetic working power which, as was even then known, the colonists developed in the ancient woods of the new world. He gives this well-meaning explanation of the contrast, that in our old and as it were already becoming antiquated state, the many work for the one, and a multitude of the industrious go without remuneration, therefore zeal and desire are extinguished in a great portion of them. Almost all that he says is true and right, but this calm kindliness, with which enlightened men of the period of Immanuel Kant and the poetic court of Weimar regarded the people, was unaccompanied by the slightest suspicion, that the pith of the German national strength must be sought in this despised and ruined class; that the condition of things under which he himself, the author, lived, was hollow, barbarous, and insecure; that the governments of his time possessed no guarantee of stability, and that a political state--the great source of every manly feeling, and of the noble consciousness of independence--was impossible, even for the educated, so long as the peasant lived as a beast of burden; and little did he think that all these convictions would be forced upon the very next generation, after bitter sufferings in a hard school, by the conquest of an external enemy. His work, therefore, deserves well to be remembered by the present generation. The following pages depict not only the condition of the peasantry, but the literary class. Garve speaks as follows:--

"One circumstance has great influence on the character of the peasantry: they hang much together. They live far more sociably one with another than do the common burghers in the cities. They see each other every day at their farm work; in the summer in the fields, in the winter in the barns and spinning-rooms. They associate like soldiers, and thus get an esprit de corps; many results arise from this: first, they become polished after their fashion, and more acute through this association. They are more fit for intercourse with their equals; and they have better notions than the common artisan of many of the relations of social life; that is to say, of all those which occur in their class and in their own mode of life. This constant intercourse, this continual companionship, is with them, as with soldiers, what lightens their condition. It is a happy thing to hare much and constant companionship with others, if they are your equals; it gives rise to an intimate acquaintance and a reciprocal confidence, at least in outward appearance, without which no intercourse can be agreeable. The noble enjoys this advantage; he associates for the most part only with his equals, being separated by his pride from those below him, and he and his equals live much together, as leisure and wealth enable him to do so. The peasant enjoys singular advantages from opposite reasons. His insignificance is so great that it prevents his having the wish, still more the opportunity, of associating with those above him; he hardly ever sees anything but peasants, and his servitude and his work bring him frequently in companionship with these his equals.

"But this very circumstance causes the peasants to act in a body; thus the inconveniences of a democratic constitution are introduced, so that a single unquiet head from their own body exercises great power over them, and often influences the whole community. It is, moreover, the reason why persons of another class have so little influence over them, and can only sway them by authority and compulsion. They seldom see or hear the judgments, conceptions, and examples of the higher orders, and only for a brief space.

"I have long studied the special signification of the word tückisch, which I have never heard so frequently as when the talk has been of peasants. It denotes, without doubt, a mixture of childish character, of simplicity, and weakness, with spite and cunning.

"Every one, without doubt, remembers having seen faces of peasant boys, in which one or both eyes leer out, as if by stealth, from under the half-closed eyelids, with the mouth open and drawn into a jeering yet somewhat vacant laugh, with the head bent down, as if they would conceal themselves; in a word, faces which depict a mixture of fear, shamefacedness, and simplicity, with derision and aversion. Such boys, when one speaks to or requires anything of them, stand dumb and motionless as a log; they answer no questions put to them by the passersby, and their muscles seem stiff and immovable. But as soon as the stranger is a little way off, they run to their comrades, and burst out laughing.

"The low condition of the peasant, his servitude, and his poverty produce in him a certain fear of the higher orders; his rearing and mode of life make him on the one hand unyielding and insolent, and on the other, in many respects, simple and ignorant; the frequent antagonism of his own will and advantage, to the will and the commands of those above him, implants in his mind the germs of animosity. Thus, if the failings of his class are not counteracted by his personal qualities, he becomes such as the boy described, especially in his demeanour to his superiors. It is these superiors and lords of the peasants who are to blame for his tückischen character. He will use dissimulation in place of open resistance; he will be humble and yielding, nay, even appear devoted in their presence; but when he thinks he can act secretly, he will do everything against their will and interest. He will think of tricks and intrigues, which, nevertheless, are not so finely woven but that they may be easily seen through.

"One may discover two main differences, both in the fate and the character of the peasantry. He who is entirely under subjection, who sighs under the yoke of a complete slavery, will, under usual circumstances, submit to everything with apathy, without attempting the least resistance, and even without a wish to lighten his own lot; he will throw himself at the feet of any one who will tread on him. But if he is roused from this torpor by special circumstances, by agitators, by a cunning and bold leader, then he will become like a raging tiger, and will lose at once, with the humility of the slave, all the feelings of humanity.

"The half-serf who has property, and enjoys the protection of the laws, but under more or less burdensome conditions, is bound to the glebe, and at the same time to the service of the proprietor, to whose jurisdiction he is amenable; this peasant does not usually bear his burdens without wincing. There is no fear that he will endeavour to throw them off his neck by open violence as a rebel; but he will carry on a continual secret war with his master. To diminish his profit, and to increase his own, is a wish that he has always at heart, and an object which covertly, and as often as is practicable, he endeavours to pursue. He practises crafty and small thefts on the property of his master, and does not consider them so disgraceful as if he did the same by his equal. He is not the entirely humble slave, nor yet the dreaded enemy of his master, but he is not an obedient dependent, from free will and a good heart; he is that which probably has been intended to be expressed in some sort by the word tückisch.

"One may add, as an ingredient or as a consequence of the 'tückischen' nature, a certain amount of stubbornness which distinguishes the peasant when his mind is agitated, or when a prejudice is once rooted in him. His soul in this case appears to become stiff, like his body and his limbs. He is then deaf to all representations, however obvious they may be, or however capable he might be, in an impartial state of mind, of seeing their justice. The lawyers employed in the lawsuits of peasants will sometimes have known such individuals, in whom it is doubtful whether the obstinacy with which they cling to an obviously absurd idea, arises from their blindness or from determined malice. Sometimes whole communities become thus addle-headed. They then resemble certain crazy people, who, as it is expressed, have a fixed idea, that is, a conception which their mind takes up incessantly or returns to on the slightest occasion, and which, however false it may be, can neither be removed by the evidence of the senses nor by the representations of reason, because it is not really in the mind, but has its foundation in the tenor of their organization."

Thus speaks Christian Garve. His final counsel was: "Better village schools." Some among the landed proprietors acted with a similar philanthropic feeling. We would gladly say that their number was great; but the frequent complaints to the contrary, and the zeal with which benevolent commentators bring forward individual examples--like one Rochow, of Rekahn, who established village schools at his own cost--justify the conclusion that such benevolence would have been less striking had it been more frequent. In fact it required individuals to be very prudent in showing their good feeling for the peasants in deeds, as it was often observed that they gave their service far more willingly to strict nobles than to citizen proprietors; and that when these, with a warmer feeling for the peasant, wished to show him kindness, their goodwill sometimes met with a bad return. Thus a citizen proprietor, taking possession of his property, gave each of his peasants a present in money, and showed consideration for them in many ways; the not unnatural consequence was, that they renounced all service to him, and broke out into open resistance.

Whilst the German philanthropists were anxiously thinking and writing for the countryman, a storm was already brewing on the other side of the Rhine which in a few years was to destroy in Germany also, the servitude of the peasants, together with the old form of government. About 1790 the peasants began to occupy themselves eagerly with politics. The schoolmaster read and explained the newspapers to them; the hearers sat motionless, amidst thick tobacco smoke, all ears. In Electoral Saxony some already made use of the new circulating library in the neighbouring city.[36] In the Palatinate, and in the Upper Rhine, the country people became disturbed, and refused service. In the same year, in the richest part of Electoral Saxony, in the Lommatzscher district, and on the property of the Graf von Schönburg, a peasant revolt once more broke out. Once more did the insurgents seize the weapon of the slave, the wooden club with iron hoops. The peasants, by a deputation, renounced all villein service to the landholders; they sent to the neighbouring communities; from village to village hastened the secret messengers; the magistrates, in the service of noblemen, were expelled or beaten with sticks; the quiet parishes were threatened with fire and sword; in every village saddled horses were standing to send information to the neighbours of the march of the military. There were the same secret conspiracy, the same outbreak, spreading with the speed of lightning, the same union of measureless hate, with a natural feeling of their rights, as in the peasant war of the sixteenth century. Reciprocal agreements were laid before the landed proprietors, which most of them subscribed amicably; and severe nobles were threatened with the worst. Their demands quickly increased; soon they required, not only exemption from tenths and soccage service, but also the reimbursement of fines that had been paid. The peasants collected in troops of more than a thousand men; they threatened the town of Meissen, and attacked small detachments. But they never withstood larger divisions of military. The most daring bands threw their caps and clubs away, as soon as the cavalry were ordered to charge through them. One of the chief leaders, a stubborn, daring old man of seventy years of age, while still in chains, complained of the faintheartedness of his bands. The movement was suppressed without much bloodshed. It was characteristic of the time, that the landowners, from fear, did everything in their power to bring about a mutual forgiveness and forgetfulness, and that the condemned, during their penal labour, were separated from other criminals and treated with leniency; they were also excused the prison dress. From records of that period it may clearly be seen how general was the feeling among the higher magistrates, that the position of the peasant did not come up to the requirements of the times.

Two years later, also, the German peasants in the Palatinate and in the Electorate of Mainz danced round the red cap on the tree of freedom. Incessantly did French influence overspread Germany. The State of the Great Frederick was shattered; Germany became French up to the Elbe. In the new French possessions, villeinage and servitude were abolished, with a haste and recklessness which was intended to win the people to the new dominion. The Princes of the Rhine Confederation followed this example, with greater consideration for those whom they patronised; but still under the strong influence of French ideas. In Prussia the Governments and people saw, with alarm, how insecure was the constitution of a State which employed so much the bodies and working powers of the peasants, and took so little account of their souls. In the year 1807 the great change in the relations of the country people began in Prussia; the definition of the rights of the landowners and peasants has lasted there, with many fluctuations and interruptions, for half a century, and has not yet arrived at a full conclusion.

At this period the position of the countryman throughout Germany has so improved, that no other progress of civilization can be compared to it. The villein of the landowner has--with the exception of Mecklenburg, where the condition of the middle ages still exists--become the free citizen of his State; the law protects and punishes him and the landowner alike; he sends representatives, not of his class only, but of the nation, in union with the other classes of voters, to the capital; he has legally ceased everywhere to be a separate order in the State--in many provinces he has laid aside, with his present dress, his old frowardness; he begins to dress himself à la mode, and--sometimes in a clumsy, unpleasing form--to take his share in the inventions and enjoyments of modern civilization. But, however great these changes may be, they are not yet great enough generally, in Germany, to give the countryman that position which, as a member of the State, a citizen, and an agriculturist, he must attain, if the life of the people is to give an impression in all respects of perfect soundness and power. His interest in, and comprehension of, that highest earthly concern of man--the State--is much too little developed; his craving for instruction and cultivation, considered on the whole, is too small; and in the larger portion of the Fatherland his soul is still encumbered by some of the qualities which are nurtured by long oppression, hard egotism, distrust of men differently moulded, litigiousness, awkwardness, and a deficient understanding of his rights and position as a citizen. The minds which have shaken off the old spell are still in the form of transition which gives them a specially unfinished and unpleasing aspect.

The agriculture of the German peasantry may still be considered as not having, on the whole, reached that point which is necessary for an energetic development of our national strength; nevertheless, we have reason to rejoice in having made great progress in this direction. Intellect is everywhere incessantly occupied in introducing to the simple countryman new discoveries--machines, seeds, and a new method of cultivation. In some favoured districts the agriculture of the small farmer can scarcely be distinguished from the well-studied system of the larger model farms. Nor has the German peasant, in the times of the deepest depression, like the oppressed Slavonian, ever lost the instinct of self-acquisition. For the very qualities which are his characteristics, enduring systematic industry and strict parsimony, are the groundwork of the highest earthly prosperity. There still subsists, however, in wide districts, the old thraldom of the three-course system with rights of common, and all the pressure which this system entails on individuals. Even well-tested improvements are therefore difficult to the countryman; because, with all his perseverance, he is yet wanting in enterprising activity, and because the great scantiness of his youthful instruction and technical education makes it difficult for him to comprehend anything new. Thus the development of the German peasant to greater inward freedom and capacity is steady, but slow. The noble landed proprietor also, from entirely different reasons, frequently neglects to raise the culture of the soil by energy, technical knowledge, and the utmost exertion of his power; and, in like manner, we find in other branches of production--in manufactures, trade, commerce, and political life--a corresponding slowness of progress. It places us still at a disadvantage in comparison with the better-situated countries of Europe. For the position of Germany among the States of Europe is such, that all other progress depends on the development of its own agriculture, that is, on the degree of intelligence and productive power which is perceptible in this primeval manly occupation. We have no command of the sea; we have no colonies, and no subjected countries, to which we can export the produce of our industry. If this circumstance is perhaps a surety for our stability, on the other hand it raises the vital importance which the German countryman and the system of his agriculture exercise on the other classes of the German people.

If therefore it is allowable to compare two very different phases of human development, one may well say that the peasant of 1861 has not yet gained, comparatively with the other classes of the people, the independence and the conscious power which existed six centuries ago in the provinces of Reithart von Reuenthal and Farmer Helmbrecht. And whoever would teach us from the life of the past, how it has happened that the strength of the nation has passed from the rural districts into cities, and that the nobleman has raised himself so much above his neighbour the peasant, must beware of asserting, that this depression of the country-people is the natural consequence of the establishment of a higher culture and more artistic forms of life by the side of the simple agriculture of the lower class. He who follows his plough will seldom be a member of a company which extend their speculations to the distant corners of the earth; he will not read Homer in the original, he will hardly read the work of a German philosopher upon logic, and the easy intercourse of a modern salon will scarcely be enlivened by his wit. But the results of the collective culture, of that which the learned find, which the artist forms, which manufacturers create, must, at a period when the nation is vigorous and sound, when accessible to the simple countryman of sound judgment, be comprehended and valued by him.

Is it necessary that our neighbour the countryman should so seldom read a good book, and still less often buy one? Is it necessary that he should, as a rule, take in no other newspaper than the small sheet of his own district? Is it necessary that it should be unknown to him, and unfortunately sometimes also to his schoolmaster, how an angle is determined, a parallelogram measured, and an ellipse drawn? Whoever would now place a poem of Goethe's in the hand of a peasant woman, would probably do a useless thing, and raise a dignified smile in a "well-educated spectator." Must all that we possess of most beautiful be incomprehensible to half our nation? Six hundred years ago, the poem of Farmer Helmbrecht was understood in the village parlour, and the charm of his sonorous verse, the poetry and the warm eloquence of his language, were appreciated; and the rhythm and measure of those old songs that accompanied the dances of the thirteenth century are just as elegant and artistic as the finest verses now in the poems of the greatest modern poets. There was a time when the German peasant had the same lively susceptibility for noble poetry which we now assume as the privilege of the highly educated. Is it necessary that the peasant of the present day should be deficient in it? The Bohemian village musician still plays with heartfelt delight the harmonious tones produced by the genius of Haydn and Mozart; is it necessary that few other musical sounds should be permitted to the German peasant than the stale measures of spiritless dances? All this is not necessary; something of the same barbarism benumbs our life which we perceive with astonishment in the time of Christian Garve.

What, however, we consider at first as one of the still remaining weaknesses of the peasants, is also the characteristic weakness of our whole culture, which has become too artificial, because it has bloomed in comparatively small and isolated circles of society, without the regulation and ever-increasing invigoration which the collective popular mind would have afforded it by cordial reciprocity and warm sympathy. The peasant's having for so many centuries been a stranger to social culture has, in the first place, made him weak, and also made the culture of the other classes too unstable, over-refined, and sometimes unmanly and impracticable.

CHAPTER II.

THE LIFE OF THE LOWER NOBILITY.

(1500-1800.)

The lot of the German peasant and of the German noble are closely bound together; the sufferings of the one become the disease of the other: the one has been lowered by servitude; the capacity, cultivation, and worth of the other to the State have been impaired by the privileges of a favoured position. Now both appear to be convalescent.

The lower German noble, before the beginning of the Thirty Years' War, was experiencing an important transition; he was about to forget the traditions of the middle ages, and on the point of gaining a new importance at court. The predatory Junkers of the saddle had become quarrelsome, drink-loving landed proprietors.

At the end of the sixteenth century it was still difficult for the sons of the old robber associates to keep the peace. Whilst they were fighting with the pen, and intriguing at the Kammergericht,[37] they were frequently tempted to take forcible revenge; not only the turbulent knights of the Empire in Franconia, Suabia, and on the Rhine, but also the vassals of the powerful princes of the Empire who were under the strong law of the land. Even where they were in the exercise of their rights, they preferred doing it by violence, from pride in their own power. Thus George Behr, of Düvelsdorf, in Pomerania, shortly before the storm of the Thirty Years' War broke upon his province, hired an armed band in order to obtain club law in a private quarrel; he also claimed supreme jurisdiction on his property, in 1628 he caused a former secretary of his family who had forged the seal of his master and drawn a false bond, to be hung on a gallows without any further ado, and at his leisure gave a laconic account of it to his duke.[38]

Much of the old roistering remained in the daily life of the country noblemen; they were still prone, as once in the middle ages, to excite quarrels in the inns and under the village lindens. The young wore embroidered clothes with concealed weapons, an iron ring in the hat, and low morions; besides this, very long rapiers and stilettoes, and in the eastern frontier countries, also Hungarian axes. Thus they went in crowds to the popular festivals and marriages, especially when these took place in the households of the hated citizens. There they began quarrels with the populace and invited guests; they behaved with offensive petulance, and sometimes committed grievous outrages; they burst open the doors of the houses, broke into the women's rooms when they had gone to rest, and into the cellars of the householders. It was not always easy to obtain justice against the offenders, but in some provinces the complaints were so loud and general that, as for example in the Imperial hereditary lands, numerous ordinances appeared enforcing the duty of giving information of such villanies. Those most complained of were the rovers who settled here and there in the country. They were, in the worst cases, compelled to serve at their own cost against the hereditary enemy,[39] so difficult is it to eradicate old evil habits. The quarrels also of the country nobles among themselves were endless. In vain were they denounced by the ordinances of the rulers, in vain did they declare that it was not necessary for the person challenged to come forward.[40] The language of the Junker was rich in strong expressions, and custom had stamped some of these as unpardonable offences. At this period, after the termination of tournaments, armorial bearings and ancestors became of great importance; marriages with ladies not of noble birth became less frequent; they were eager to blazon coats of arms and genealogies, and endeavoured to show a pure descent through many generations of ancestors, in which there was frequently great difficulty, not only from the want of church books and records, but from other causes. Whoever endeavoured, therefore, to force a quarrel with another, found fault with his pedigree, his knightly position, name, and armorial bearings, and questioned his four descents. Such an offence could only be appeased by blood. To diminish these brawls, shortly before the Thirty Years' War, courts of honour were here and there introduced. The ruler of the country or feudal lord was president; the assessors, noblemen of distinction, formed the court of honour. The parties chose three companions, through whom letters of challenge and apologies were transmitted; and in order to make these subtle formalities easy to those who had little practice in writing, a form was accurately prescribed for such letters of summons.

Whilst thus the poorer nobles of the country struggled at home against the new régime, the more enterprising were led by the old German love of travelling into foreign parts. The noble youths willingly followed the drum, and even before 1618 it was a frequent complaint that the Junkers of the nobility had everywhere promotion in the army, whilst it was difficult for a man of worth and capacity, from the people, to rise from the ranks. Even before 1618 the heirs of rich families of pretension, travelled to France, there to learn the language and the art of war, and to cultivate their minds. Not only in Paris, but in other great cities of France, they congregated in such numbers, as do now the idle Russians and English; they only too often endeavoured to resemble the French in immorality and duels, and were even then notorious as awkward imitators of foreign customs. Even before 1618 most of the western German courts were so devoted to French manners, that French was considered the elegant language for conversation and writing. Thus it was in the court of Frederick the Palatine, the winter king of Bohemia.

The cleverest of the nobility, however, sought for fine manners, pleasures, and office in the courts of the numerous German princes. After the abdication of Charles V. a jovial life prevailed not only at the Imperial court, but also in those of the greater princes of the Empire, above all in Electoral Saxony, Bavaria, Würtemberg, and the Palatinate. Besides great hunting parties and drinking bouts, there were also great court festivals; masquerades, knightly exercises, and prize-shooting had become the fashion, especially at coronations, marriages, christenings, and visits of ceremony. The old tournaments were sham fights, fine scenic representations, in which the costume and the dramatic show were of more importance than the passage of arms itself. As early as 1570 they were arranged according to the Spanish custom, when the new fashion of running at the ring was introduced. Great stages, with mythological and allegorical figures, were drawn in procession on these occasions. The contending parties appeared in wonderful attire; they strove together for prizes, as challengers and knight-errants--manuten adoren and avantureros--or married men against bachelors, man against man and troop against troop, not only on horse but on foot But the weapons were blunt, the spears so prepared that they must break at the weakest shock, and the number of thrusts and passes which one could make against another was accurately prescribed. The whole was announced to the spectators by a cartel--written invitation or challenge: it was printed and posted up, and explained to the public. Some of these specimens of the composition of educated people of the court have been preserved to us; for example, a cartel of 1570, when the Emperor Maximilian II. had assembled a large circle of nobles around him, in which a necromancer, Zirfeo, announced that he knew of three worthy heroes enchanted in a mountain,--King Arthur and his companions, Sigestab the Strong, and Ameylot the Happy,--whom he would disenchant, and arouse to a struggle against adventurers. At the festival itself a great wooden structure was presented to view, which represented a rock with an infernal opening, ravens flew out of it, devils danced busily round its summit, and scattered fire about them; at last the magician himself appeared, made his incantations, the hill opened, the knights sprang up into daylight in ancient armour, and awaited the foreign combatants, who in equally strange costume encountered them. Even before 1600, gala days, including pastoral fêtes, were announced with a flourish by similar cartels, sometimes in verse, as, after the great war, were the common village weddings and fairs. These were especially welcome to the authorities and nobles, because in them etiquette was suspended, and many opportunities given for free pleasantry and confidential familiarity.

In some courts, as at that of the Anhaltiners, the Landgrave of Hesse, and the Duke Philip of Pomerania, the nobles had opportunities of turning their attention to education, and the acquisition of knowledge; at these courts they began already to take pleasure in the possession of objects of art. The Emperor Rudolph collected the pictures of Albert Dürer, and the princes and some of the wealthy nobles around them collected rare coins, weapons, drinking-cups, and the works of the goldsmiths of Nüremberg and the cabinet makers of Augsburg. The patricians of the great Imperial cities, superior in education to the court nobility, as political agents and managers of the Imperial princes, were the purveyors of these novelties of art to the German courts and their cavaliers. It was not an unheard-of thing to find a courtier who avoided long drinking bouts, and knew how to value a conversation upon the course of the world; nay, could even compose a Latin distich, and leave to his heirs a collection of books; and it was even considered honourable among the better sort to concern themselves about their households, and to increase, as far as possible, the revenues of their property.

On the whole, the importance of the nobility at court had increased even before the war, as well as the oppression which they exercised over their dependent country-people; yet, in an equal degree--nay, indeed, beyond them--the free strength of the nation irresistibly developed itself. The new culture of the Reformation period, introduced by burgher theologians and professors, brought into contempt the coarseness of the country Junkers. The business affairs of the princes and their territories, the places in the Kammergericht, the Spruch Collegien, or (consultative legal boards) of the Universities; indeed almost the whole administration of justice and government ceased to be in the hands of the nobles; the greatest opulence and comfort were introduced into the cities by trade and commerce. Thus, up to the year 1618, the nation was in a fair way to overcome the egotistical Junkerdom of the Middle Ages, and of putting down pretensions which had become incompatible with the new life.

It was one of the ruinous consequences of the great war, that all this was changed. It broke the strength of the burgher class, and the weakness of the nobility was fostered, under the protection which was secured to it in most of the provinces by the new military discipline of the princes and, above all, of the Imperial court, to the prejudice of the masses. As the income of the landed proprietor was diminished, he drew his chief advantage from the labour of the working peasant. The families of the country nobility being decimated, the Imperial court was very ready to procure a new nobility for money. In the course of the war the captain or colonel had willingly bought with his booty a letter of nobility and some devastated property. After the peace, these nobles by patent became a hateful extension of the order. A childish offensive tuft-hunting, a worship of rank, servility and a greed for titles and outward distinctions, were now general in the cities. The commercial cities on the North Sea were those that suffered least, and those countries most which were immediately dependent on the Imperial court. It was customary then in Vienna to accost as noblemen all those who appeared to have a right to social pretensions.

Among the mass of privileged persons who now considered themselves as a peculiar ruling class, in contradistinction to the people, there was undoubtedly the greatest difference in culture and capacity; but no injustice is done to many honourable, and some distinguished men, when the fact is brought forward, that the period from 1650 to 1750, in which the nobility ruled, and were of most importance, was the worst in the whole of the long history of Germany.

Undoubtedly, in the time of weakness since 1648, a most comfortable life was led by the wealthy scion of an old family, who possessed large property, and was protected by old alliances with influential persons and rulers. His sons gained profitable court appointments, or high military places; and his daughters, who were well dowered, increased the circle of his influential "friends." The landed proprietor himself had served in the army, had travelled to France or Holland, and brought with him from thence a number of curiosities; arms and painted articles from the Eastern nations, a hollow ostrich-egg, polished shells, artistically carved cherry-stones, and painted pottery, or marble limbs that had been dug up in Italy. He had, perhaps, somewhere favoured a learned man with his acquaintance, and received from time to time a ponderous legal treatise, or a volume of poems, with a respectful letter. He might have visited in his travels the courts of Anhalt or Weimar, and been created, by letters patent, a poet or author; he was member of the Frucht-bringende Gesellschaft[41] (the Fruit-Producing Society), had a beautiful medal attached to a silk ribbon, on which his herb, sage or, mint--or, if he had been sarcastic at court--a radish, was represented; he bore the surname of "Scarifier," and comforted himself with the motto--"Sharp and Nutritious;"[42] and he sometimes wrote letters on the improvement of the German mother tongue, unfortunately with many French phrases. For his own information he, with other cavaliers of education, took in, at considerable cost, a written newspaper, which a well-instructed man in the capital secretly sent to good customers; for it was revolting to him to read the common, superficial scribbling of the printed newspapers. He spoke some French, perhaps also Italian; and if he had been at a University, which did not frequently happen, he might be able to recite a Latin lucubration. In this case he was probably commissary of the ruler of the country, a dignitary of his province; then he had business journeys, and occasionally negotiations, and he managed, to the best of his power, what was intrusted to him, with the help of his secretaries. He was courteous, even to those who were beneath him, and was on good terms with the citizens. He looked down upon the people with confident self-complacency; he was, in fact, high bred, and knew right well that his nobility did not rest on many titles, nor on the knightly ensigns on his escutcheon; and he smiled at the Lions, Bears, Turks'-heads, and Wild men, which were painted on the coats of arms, and bestowed by the heralds' office at Vienna. He regarded with contempt the French nobility, among whom, through Paris merchants and Italian adventurers, too much foreign blood had been intermingled; on the Hungarians, who complacently allowed their nobility to be conferred for a bow and a chancery fee by the Palatine; on the Danes, whose noblemen had a monopoly of the cattle trade; and on the Italians, who made unceasing mésalliances. The fine-gentleman airs, also, of the greater part of his German equals annoyed him: for even at the meeting of his States he had frequent contentions for precedence, especially with the prince's councillors, who were not of the nobility, but wished to assert the privileges of their rank. If there were citizens and noble councillors in the same board, to these in the sittings, a higher position and seniority in office, gave the priority; but at banquets and all representations, according to Imperial decision, the nobleman, as he well knew, had the precedence. It was his usual complaint, that the nobles themselves assumed their titles, armorial bearings, and dignities, or sought them in foreign countries; also that, whoever had received the diploma of count or baron from the Imperial chancery, expected to be called Reichsgräfliche or Reichsfreiherrliche Gnaden, literally Countly or Baronial Grace, and speaks of himself in the royal plural.[43] The worthy gentleman still retained some of the traditions of knighthood; a valiant officer was treated by him with respect, and he valued arms and horses much. The best adornment of the walls of his well-built house, besides the great family pictures, were beautiful weapons, pistols, couteaux-de-chasse, and every kind of hunting implement. By the side of the flower-garden, kitchen-garden, and orchard, lay a riding-ground, where were to be found apparatus for riding at the ring, or for breaking light wooden lances at the faquin, or quintin, a wooden figure. His horses had still Italian or French names,--Furioso, Bellarina, &c., for as yet the English blood had not been introduced; they had been bred from Neapolitan and Hungarian horses. Turkish nags, as now the pony, were much sought after; thoroughbred horses bore a comparatively higher price than now, for the long war had shamefully lowered the breed of horses throughout Europe. His dog-kennel was well furnished, for, besides bulldogs, he required hounds, pointers, and terriers; to these influential companions of his life he also gave high sounding names--Favour, Rumour, &c. It is true, the chase of the higher game was the right of his sovereign; but the hateful custom of baiting the game had been long ago introduced into the country from France. Thus he rode eagerly with his hounds after hares and foxes, or, by invitation, he accompanied[44] some great lord deer-hunting, and received visits from some friendly court official, who had the command of some falcons, which were flown at crows. In October he was not ashamed of going after larks, and inspecting the sprynges. He began the day decorously, and ended it with pleasure; he regularly took an aperient, was bled, and went to church; he held every week his magisterial or justice days. After the morning greetings with his family, on leisure days he had his horses exercised; in the harvest week he rode to the fields, and looked after the reapers and the inspector. A great portion of his time was passed in visits which he received or made in the neighbourhood. At his repast, which took place soon after twelve, game played the principal part; if he had guests, seven or eight dishes were served generally at the same time. If conversation took a high flight, politics were cautiously touched upon, matters of faith very unwillingly; many fine sentences and maxims were still in vogue with people of the world; it was considered refined to quote writers of antiquity or elegant French authors without pedantry; the peculiarities of foreign nations, and also the curiosities of natural history, as known from reading and observation, were gladly discussed. It was considered good taste to inquire the opinions of individuals by turns. Such conversation, even among cavaliers of the highest quality, would appear to us more formal and pedantic than what we should meet with now in the society of poor schoolmasters; but even from this conversation, of which some accidental specimens remain to us, we may discover, in spite of a narrow point of view and numerous prejudices, the striving of the time for enlightenment and understanding of the world. Usually, indeed, the conversation runs on family stories, compliments, doubtful anecdotes, and coarse jokes. There was much deep drinking, and only the most refined withdrew from drinking bouts.

Sometimes a social meeting with ladies was arranged in another place, at an hotel or inn; then each lady provided some dishes, the gentlemen wine and music. If there was a bath in the neighbourhood, a journey to it was seldom neglected. Shooting matches were arranged, with appointed prizes, "the first was, then, an ox or a ram;" the gentlemen shot either together or with the populace. The dress, also, of the landed proprietor was splendid; his rank might be recognised from afar, for the old ordinances respecting dress were still maintained, and a value was placed upon their wardrobe, both by men and women, which we can now scarcely comprehend. Before the war no insignificant portion of the property was vested in velvet and gold embroidery, in rings and jewels; the greater portion of this was lost, but pleasure in such possessions remained, and the jewels of the daughter long continued an essential part of her dowry.

Numerous were the members of the household, amongst whom there were frequently some original characters. Perhaps, besides the tutor, there might be an old soldier of the great war, addicted to drinking, who knew how to relate many stories about Torstenson, or Jean de Worth; he taught the nobleman's son to fence, and "to play with the Banner."[45] There seldom failed to be a poor relation of the family, who ruled over the kennel by the title of "Master of the Chase;" the preserver of mysterious hunting customs, he knew how to charm the gun, and had greater acquaintance with the infernal night-hunter than the pastor of the place thought right; he was considered as a trusty piece of old household furniture, and would assuredly have sacrificed his life without hesitation for his cousin; but he did not scruple to procure more wood for the peasant, with whom he drank at the inn, than was right; and if the old Junker had his couteau-de-chasse ornamented with silver, the origin of which was doubtful, the landed proprietor was obliged to wink at it.[46]

Thus passed the life of a wealthy landowner between 1650 and 1700. It was perhaps not quite so worthy as it might have been, but it may have transmitted to the next generation family feeling and kindliness of heart. Yet it must be observed that it was only a very small minority of the German nobility who were in so favoured a position in the seventeenth century.

Those who wished to make their fortunes in foreign lands far from their families, were threatened with other dangers, from which only the most energetic could escape. The wars in Hungary and Poland, the shameful struggle against France, and a long residence in Paris, were not calculated to preserve good morals. The vices of the East, and of the corrupt court of France were brought by them into Germany. The old love of quarrelling was not improved by the new cavalier cartel, the profligate intercourse with peasant women and noble ladies of easy virtue, became worse by the nightly orgies of fashionable cavaliers, at which they represented festive processions with mythological characters, and draped themselves as Dryads, and their ladies as Venuses and nymphs.[47] The old Landsknecht game of dice was not worse than the new game of hazard, which became prevalent at the baths and courts, and which foreign adventurers now added to those of the country.

But there are two more classes of nobles of that period who appear to us still more strange and grotesque, both numerous, and both in strong contrast to one another. They were designated as city nobles and country nobles, and expressed their mutual antipathy by the use of the ignominious terms Pfeffersäcke and Krippenreiter.[48]

Vain and restless citizens strove to exalt themselves by acquiring the Emperor's patent of nobility. These patents had of old been a favourite source of income to needy German emperors. Wenzel and Sigismund had unsparingly ennobled traders and persons of equivocal character: in short, every one who was ready to pay a certain amount of florins. On the other hand, in 1416, at the Council of Constance, the princes and nobles of the Rhine, Saxony, Suabia, and Bavaria, had set up their backs, made a revision of their own circle, and cashiered the intruders. But the Emperor's patents did not cease on that account. Charles V. himself, who sometimes looked down on the German lords with galling irony, and willingly gave to his chancellor and secretaries the chance of perquisites, had the sad repute "of audaciously raising, for a few ducats, every salt-boiler to the order of nobility." Still more business-like were these proceedings under Ferdinand II. and his successor. For after the Thirty Years' War, not only the living, but the bones in the graves of their ancestors were ennobled, nay, the dead ancestors were even declared worthy of being admitted into noble foundations and to tournaments. At last, after 1648, this traffic of the Imperial court was carried on to such an extent that the princes and states at the breaking up of the Imperial Diet of 1654, and a hundred years later at the election of Charles VII., protested against the detriment which accrued to their own rights of sovereignty and revenues from such a privilege. The newly ennobled in the cities were therefore not to be exempt from the burdens of citizens, and the possessor of a property by villein tenure was not to be invested with the privileges attached to a noble estate. In vain did the Imperial court threaten those with punishment who would not concede the purchased privileges to its patents of nobility. Those also who were declared fit for tournaments and noble benefices, were not on that account received into any knightly order, or noble endowment, nor in any old noble provincial unions. The noble benefices generally did not take patents of nobility, as proofs of noble extraction; it was only the members of old noble families possessing no such patents who were admissible into these endowments. It was only exceptionally that these corporations gave way to a high recommendation. Even the court offices, those of chamberlain, groom of the bed-chamber, equerry, hunting and other noble pages, were privileges of the old nobility. The patents of nobility never forgot to celebrate the virtues and the services rendered both to the prince and commonwealth by the newly ennobled and his ancestors; but, as a zealous defender of the old nobility complains, it was too well-known that, in general, it was only for the "Macherlohn" (pay, for the making) that nobility was given.

In the larger cities, which were not the residence of princes, the position of the nobility was very different. In Hamburg, Lübeck, and Bremen, the nobles had no political weight; on the other hand, at Nüremberg, Frankfort-on-the-Maine, Augsburg, and Ulm, the old race of nobility lived in proud isolation from the rest of the citizens. Worst of all were the Nürembergers, who considered it even degrading to carry on commerce. Of two noble societies of Frankfort-on-the-Maine, one, the house of Alten-Limpurg, required of every member who presented himself for admission, eight ancestors, and that he should keep out of trade; the other society, of the house of Frauenstein, consisted mostly of newly-ennobled merchants "of distinction." In Augsburg, the old patricians were more indulgent to merchants: he who had married the child of a patrician family, could be received into the noble society. The remaining commercial cities of note, Prague and Breslau, were most amply supplied with newly ennobled merchants. There was bitter complaint that, under the Emperor Leopold, even a chimney-sweeper, whose trade was then in particularly low esteem, could for a little money procure nobility, and that frequently tradesmen, with patents of nobility in their pockets, might be found packing up herrings for their customers in old paper.

After the Thirty Years' War, officers also sought for patents of nobility, and they were often granted to them for their services, as also to the higher officials and members of the city administration in the larger cities.

It was through families who had taken part in the literary and poetical culture of the time, that patents of nobility in this and the following century entered into our literary class. Many poets of the Silesian school, nay, Leibnitz, Wolf, and Haller, were placed among the privileged of their time by patents of nobility, which they themselves or their fathers had acquired.

Wholesale traders were never esteemed in Germany, nor held in that consideration by the privileged classes of the people, which the great interest they frequently represented deserved. They had of old been mistrusted and disliked; this originated, perhaps, in the time when the astute Romans exchanged, among the simple children of Tuisko, the foreign silver coin, for the early products of the country. The feudal system of the Middle Ages required this disregard of wealth, and not less so Christianity, which commanded men to despise the riches of this world, and granted to the wealthy so little prospect of the Kingdom of Heaven. Since the time of the Hohenstaufen, after the nobles were constituted as a privileged order, the antagonism between the rich money-makers of the city and the needy warriors of the country, was more and more strongly developed. In the Hanse Towns of the north undoubtedly the warlike merchant obtained dominion and respect by his armed vessels, even in distant countries. But the rich and highly cultivated gentlemen of Nüremberg and Augsburg, were scarcely less distasteful to the people than to the princes and nobles who dwelt in predatory habits on the frontiers of their domain; it was not the Fuggers alone who were accused by the Reformers of usury and un-German feeling. After the Thirty Years' War, this enmity bore new fruit, and one can easily believe that the great merchants gave no little occasion to keep alive such antipathy. No human occupation requires such free competition and such unfettered intercourse as trade. But the whole tendency of the olden time was to fence in from the outer world, and to protect individuals by privileges; such a tendency of the time could not fail to make the merchant hard and reckless; his endeavours to obtain a monopoly, and to evade senseless laws with respect to the interest of money, gave the people, frequently with justice, the feeling that the gains of the merchant were produced by the pressure they exercised on the consumer. This feeling became particularly vigorous after the Thirty Years' War. Whilst in Holland and in England the modern middle classes were pre-eminently strengthened by widely extended commerce, German commerce--except in the larger sea-port towns--was prevented from attaining a sound development by the subdivision of territory, the arbitrary dues, the varying standard of money, and, not least, by the poverty of the people; on the other hand, there was constant temptation to every kind of usurious traffic. The diversity of German coinage, and the unscrupulousness of the rulers, favoured an endless kipperei: to buy up good coin at an advantage, to clip gold of full weight, and to bring light money into circulation, became the most profitable occupation. As now, multifarious stockjobbing, so then, illegal traffic in coined metal, was to a great extent the plague of commercial towns. It was not to be exterminated. If sometimes the scandal became too great, then indeed the governments tried a blundering interference: but their courts were hoodwinked. Thus, in Frankfort-on-the-Maine, the clipping of ducats was carried on to such an extent, that a special commission was sent from Vienna to the free Imperial city; Jews had been the colporteurs of Christian commercial houses, among which many great firms, whose names are still in existence, were the great culprits. The only result was that the Imperial commissaries pocketed the larger portion of the illicit gains.

Such wealth, acquired rapidly, and contrary to law, had, as now, all the characteristics of an unstable acquisition: it seldom lasted to the third generation. It turned the culprits into spendthrifts and pleasure-seekers; their arrogance and deficiency of culture, and their ostentation, became especially offensive to their own fellow-citizens. It was more particularly such individuals who bought patents of nobility; and it was assuredly no accident that, of the numerous noble families of this kind, many in proportion have become extinct.

One of the newly ennobled of such a circle kept his real name in the firm, but among his fellow-citizens he adhered jealously to the privileges of his new order. He liked to have his coat of arms carved in stone and richly gilt on the outside of his large house, but the stone did not guarantee long duration to its possessor. It was striking, for example, to observe in Breslau, how quickly the houses on the great crescent, which then belonged almost exclusively to the new patent nobles, changed their possessors. In the interior of the house ostentatious luxury was displayed, which in this period of misery was doubly grating to the people. The rooms were decorated with costly carpets, with Venetian mirrors of immense size, with silk hangings and tapestry, which on festive occasions were fixed on the walls or on a special framework, and afterwards removed. The women sewed diamond buckles on their shoes, and it was a subject of complaint that they would wear no lace that was not brought from Venice or Paris, and did not cost at least twenty thalers the ell; nay, it was reported of them that their night utensils were of silver. Great was the number of their lackeys; their carriages were richly gilt, the coachmen drove from a high box four horses, which were then harnessed abreast; but when the splendid equipage rattled through the streets, the people called out deridingly, "That the pot always tasted of the first soup." The rich man could well keep fine horses, as he at the same time traded in them; and the workmen in the business, the porter, carpenter, and apprentice, were put into the costume of lackeys, but the page who went behind the lady was generally a child from the poor school. In such houses there was also the most luxurious living. The invited guest was received with a formality that was then characteristic of the highly educated; the host met him on the staircase, and to one of the highest distinction went even to the house door; verbose were the compliments on receiving precedence or the higher place at table, and yet the greatest value was attached to not humbling themselves too much. As soon as they were seated at table, the buffet was opened, in which was a mass of costly plate. The dishes were large and the viands in keeping, but out of all proportion to the number of guests; the most expensive things were procured, with a refinement that still astonishes us; great pies, filled with various game, black game, pike liver, and Italian salad. The pheasants and partridges were caponed and fed, a brace cost as much as a ducat; it was thought horrible that these spendthrifts gave a gulden for a fresh herring, and from eight to ten thalers for a hundred oysters. To these were added the costly wines of the seventeenth century, Tokay, Canary, Marzenin, Frontignac, Muscat, and finally wine of Lebanon; at dessert there was no longer marchpane, but candied citron, the fashionable delicacy. The ladies sat adorned and silent. It was complained that their principal anxiety in the choice of a husband was, that their intended should be of rank, that they might follow near to the corpse at funerals, and have a high place at weddings. On such occasions they went little short of boxing each other's ears for precedence. So far was the eagerness for rank carried, that he considered himself materially better whose new patent of nobility dated ten years earlier than that of another; and these city nobles considered fresh creations in nowise their equals. Whoever had been lately ennobled was only called "Wohledel" (just ennobled), but he who had for some time been in possession of his patent, was called, "Hoch-and-edelgeborne Gestrengigkeit" (high and noble-born worship). Every effort was made to obtain a title in addition to their city dignity.

The military dignities also of the city were often occupied by the greenhorns of such families; a poor wight who had never been on a battle-field, with a staff thickly set with silver, with armed jäger behind him, might be seen passing daily from city gate to city gate, in order to parade before the people, and to receive the salute of the guard.

Only one thing was required of him, he must know how to handle his sword, for duels were part of the existence of the nobleman. It was desirable for him to have been at least once called out by cartel. He then rode with his second to the nearest village; behind a hedge he pulled off his riding-boots, put on light fencing shoes, fastened his long curly hair under his cap,[49] took off his upper garments, and had to choose one of the rapiers which were presented to him. They fought in rounds, by cut and thrust, and a well-settled duel never failed to be followed by a reconciliatory drinking bout. They liked to boast of such heroic deeds.

Such were the "Pfeffersäcke," who were called also by the country nobles, "Heringsnasen" (flatnoses). This country nobility was of quite another stamp.

They were more numerous two centuries ago than at present. Besides the family seat, they possessed village-houses, and small farms. Sometimes a family had increased so much, that in the neighbourhood of an old estate, many villages were occupied by relatives; and still more frequently did branches of different families dwell indiscriminately in a village, in every grade of authority. Even in our century there have been middle-sized villages, enclosing ten, twelve, and more gentlemen's seats. In such districts, each little despot exercised dominion over a few miserable villagers, and had a seigneurial right to a portion of the village district; but the poorest had no real property, and sometimes only rented their dwellings. Thus it was in almost all the provinces of Germany, more especially east of the Elbe, in the colonised Sclavonian countries; also in Franconia, Thuringia, and Swabia. Many of the Junkers only differed from the other country people in their pretensions, and their contempt for field labour. Even before the war, most of them had been impoverished, and when peace came at last, they were in still worse plight. War and pestilence had made havoc among them, and the survivors had not become better. The more powerful had tried their luck as soldiers and partisans, differing little sometimes from highway robbers. During the war they had laid out their booty in the purchase of some small estate, on which they dwelt, restless and discontented. These fortunate individuals received frequent visits from old comrades, and then ventured to make raids from their property on their own account, which seldom ended without bloodshed. After the war they ceased plundering; but the lawlessness, the craving for excitement, the restless roving, and the inclination for wild revelry and quarrels remained in the next generation. They united themselves into a large company, which, in spite of endless brawls, continued to hold together, like entangled water-plants on a marsh. This family connection became a ceaseless plague to the better disposed, and a misfortune for the whole class; and more than any other evil retarded, during the following century, the culture, civilisation, and prosperity of the landed nobility.

The sons of these poor landowners learnt to ride, dance, and fence, and perhaps the first rudiments of Latin from a poor candidate; then, if the father had connections, they served as pages at some small court, or to a distinguished nobleman. There they learnt, to a certain extent, good manners; and, more certainly, the weaknesses and vices of the higher orders. If they remained some years in noble service they were, according to old usage, declared capable of bearing arms, and released as Junkers with a gracious box on the ear. Then they returned to the parental estate, or the parents sold what they could spare to procure them an outfit befitting a gentleman, and sent them as aspirants for subaltern places in the Imperial army. Few of them prospered in the inglorious wars of that period; most returned home, after some campaigns, corrupted and poor both in honour and booty, to share with their sisters the paternal inheritance. Soon they differed little from the relations who had remained at home.

These landowners dwelt in buildings of clay and wood, roofed with straw or shingles,--a sufficient number of casual descriptions and drawings have been preserved to us; across the roof lay the great fire-ladders; the front and back doors of the hall were provided with crossbars for closing them at night. On the ground-floor was the large sitting-room; near it the spacious kitchen, which was a warm abode for the servants; next the sitting-room there was a walled vault, with iron gratings to the window, and if possible with iron doors, as a protection against thieves and fire,--whatever valuables a landowner possessed were kept there, and if a sum of money was deposited there, a special watchman was placed before the house. Above this vault, in the upper floor, was the bedroom of the master of the house; there was the marriage-bed, and there also was a concealed safe, either in the wall or floor, wherein some plate and the jewellery of the women were kept. The children, the tutor, and the housekeeper slept in small closets, which could not be warmed, divided by trellis-work. Sometimes a wooden gallery was attached to the upper floor, the "little pleasure walk;" there the linen was dried, the farmyard inspected, and the work of the women done. The house was under the special care of some old trooper, or poor cousin, who slept within as watcher. Wild dogs roamed about the farmyard and round the house during the night; these were specially intended to guard against beggars and vagrants. But all these measures of precaution could not entirely hinder the inroads of armed bands. Even a good-sized estate was an unsatisfactory possession. Most of the landowners were deeply in debt; ruinous lawsuits, which had begun during the war, were pending over hearth and hill. The farm was carried on wretchedly under the superintendence of a poor relation or untrustworthy bailiff; the farm-buildings were bad and falling into ruins, and there was no money, and frequently no good wood wherewith to renew them. For the woods had suffered much from the war; where there was an opportunity of sale, the foreign commanders had caused large forests to be felled and sold. In the neighbourhood of fortified places the stems were employed for fortifications, which then required large quantities of wood; and after the peace much was felled for the necessary erection of villages and suburbs. The farm also bore little produce. Not only teams, but hands, were wanting for the tillage; and the average price of corn, after the war, was so low that the product hardly paid for the carriage, and in consequence they kept few horses. New capital was difficult to acquire; money was dear, and mortgages on the properties of nobles were not considered an advantageous investment. They, undoubtedly, gave a certain amount of security; but the interest was too often irregularly payed, and the capital could not easily be recovered. The acquisition of mortgaged goods, also, by the creditor, was possible only in certain cases, and by tedious proceedings; it was sometimes even dangerous, for the friends and neighbours of the debtor would threaten the new possessor with their hatred. In the eastern frontier countries the dissatisfied creditors endeavoured to indemnify themselves by selling their bonds to Polish nobles. These procured the money by making reprisals on travellers from the district of the debtor, and taking the sum from the first comers. This had, indeed, happened before the great war; and repeated prohibitions show how much commerce suffered from those deeds of violence.[50] By such evils even a sensible landed proprietor was soon easily thrown into a desperate position. A bad harvest, or a mortality among the cattle, would probably ruin him. But the chief evil was that a great number had not sense enough to occupy themselves perseveringly with their farming, and to limit their expenses within the certain income of the property. Thus few were prosperous. Most of them passed their lives amidst embarrassments, lawsuits, and endless debts; even those who had entered on the possession of their property with better hopes, became at last, like the greater number of those of their own class, members of the great association which the people nicknamed "Krippenreiter."

These impoverished gentlemen rode in bands from farm to farm; they invaded the neighbourhood like troublesome parasites whenever a feast was celebrated, whenever they scented the provisions in the kitchen and cellar. Woe to the new acquaintance whom they picked up at the houses of others; they immediately volunteered to accompany him home for a day or week. Where they had once quartered themselves it was very difficult to get rid of them. Not select in their intercourse, they drank and brawled with the peasants at the tavern; when drunk, they would do a citizen, with a full purse, the honour of receiving him into their brotherhood. Then kneeling amid broken glasses and flasks, the brotherhood was sealed, eternal fidelity sworn, and generally, he, was denounced as the worst scoundrel, who did not preserve unbroken friendship. Such brotherhood did not, however, prevent a great fight the very next hour. But, common as they made themselves on these occasions, they never forgot that they were "wild noblemen of ancient family." Citizens, and those who had patents of nobility from the Emperor might, indeed, become brothers. This kind of familiarity was after the way of the world, but he could not obtain the acknowledgment of family association conveyed by the terms "uncle" and "cousin;" and even if allied to them by marriage, he was not admitted to their relationship unless he were of noble race. Their children went about in tatters; their wives sometimes collected provisions from relations, and they themselves trotted over the stubble on shaggy horses, in old greatcoats, with a bit of carved wood instead of a second pistol in the old holster. Their usual place of rest was at the village tavern, or, if they came to a town, in the worst inn. Their language was coarse, full of stable expressions and oaths. They had adopted many of the usages of the rogues, both in language and habits; they smelt of "finckeljochen" (a bad kind of spirit) more than was agreeable to others. They were, indeed, ragamuffins; and, with all their pugnacity, without real courage. They were considered the pest of the country, and those who had anything to lose compared them to bluebottle-flies; more than once sharp decrees[51] were issued against them by the different rulers, and even from the Imperial court, but they were, notwithstanding, haughty and thoroughly aristocratic-minded fellows. Their genealogy, their escutcheons, and their family connection were to them the highest things upon earth. Unbounded was the hate and contempt with which they regarded the rich citizens; they were always ready to begin a quarrel with the newly ennobled, if they did not give them their full titles, or presumed to bear a coat of arms similar to their own.

The following account will make us better acquainted with these fellows, and their mode of intercourse. It carries us to the right bank of the Oder in Silesia, a corner of Germany where "Krippenreiterei" was particularly bad. There, according to an old popular jest, the devil burst the sack when he endeavoured to carry off in the air a number of "Krippenreiters," and thus emptied out the whole rubbish on this district.

The following description is taken from the narrative entitled "The Nobleman," written a few years before his death, by Paul Winckler, a Silesian, political agent and councillor at Breslau of the great Elector; he died 1686. The narrative was first published after his death in two editions, and finally at Nüremberg, 1697-8. There is no great skill or invention in it, but it is the more useful here on that account. Winckler was a well-educated man of the world, and an eminent jurist, and his numerous travels and alliances, and accurate knowledge of the condition of the German landed proprietors, made him particularly capable of forming a sound judgment. He possessed also qualities which are not rarely found in a Silesian; he knew how to accommodate himself easily to the world, was a cheerful companion, impartial in judgment, and a lively narrator. His being a member of the "Fruchtbringende," or literary society, probably contributed to keep alive his interest in German literature, and encouraged him to modest attempts at authorship. But he was too sensible a man not to regard with contempt the purist pedantry with which the associates of his society endeavoured to raise the German poetry. "They sit behind the kitchen of Parnassus, and satisfy themselves with the odour of the roast." He was about fifty when he wrote his narrative, confined to his room by the gout. His object was to point out by a portraiture, what a right sort of nobleman ought to be; for it had been his fate, throughout his whole life, to live in business relations and personal intercourse with the nobles of different provinces. His wife was a descendant of the poet Von Logau, and he himself was nephew of Andreas Gryphius. His own experience undoubtedly gave him a peculiarly sharp eye for the absurdities of the privileged classes, but he was the true son of his time, and preserved at heart a deep respect for genuine nobility. His narrative, therefore, is not by any means a satire, though it has indeed been called so, and the delineations here imparted give a peculiar impression of being accurate portraits. That which has been a hindrance to modern narrators who have a moral tendency, has indeed been the case with him. He has clearly depicted what the nobles ought not to be; but his good characters fail in sharp outline and colouring, nay, they become tedious, because he brings forward their education and principles in lengthy conversations. His narratives may be compared with the tale Simplicissimus, but in creative power, fancy, and fulness of detail the Silesian is incomparably inferior. Grimmelshausen, however, though possessing greater poetic talent, has an inclination for the strange and fantastic, which reminds one of the style of the romance writers, and leaves an impression that what is there represented is not a thoroughly true picture of the time. From this defect the Silesian is entirely free; he narrates, in a lively and frank style, what he has himself seen, not much, nothing particular, but plainly and precisely.

The events of the narrative are very simple. The Dutch then held in German society about the same position in the German courts that was accorded to Englishmen not long ago, the importance of their nation being almost equal to a letter of nobility. A rich young Dutchman comes to Breslau, becomes witness of a duel between one of the new nobles and a country Junker, hears from his landlord a description of country life, visits the house of an extravagant "Pfeffersack," is invited by a young Herr von K., an acquaintance of former times, to a country seat, gains thereby much knowledge of the "Krippenreiters" from personal observation, hears an account of an adventure of a Silesian with an English officer, and passes the rest of the time of his country visit, in grave but very prosy conversation (in which the author introduces much of his own views and learning), upon the education of the soldier, upon the nobles by birth and those risen from trade, upon the state of politics, and upon the culture of the ancients in comparison with that of the present day, &c. On his return to Breslau, the Dutchman learns that the rich merchant who had before invited him to dinner, had become bankrupt and secretly absconded; his life is then related, and the hero leaves Breslau. Thus the whole long narrative contains only five descriptions which would be interesting: two of them will be given. Some coarse expressions are softened; they are a little shortened, and the language, only where it appears indispensable, modernised. First the landlord relates how he studied as the son of a tailor, then married a wealthy "Kretschmerin" (or landlady), and after her death, from an unfortunate striving to become great, bought a patent of nobility in order to settle in the country. He then continues thus:--

"A not very trusty friend advised me to settle in a part of the country where certainly the noble estate was at a low price, but of which the income also was small; another friend, it is true, advised me against this, and pointed out to me what vexations and crosses I should be exposed to from the 'Krippenreiters;' but this did not disturb me, as I knew I was a match for them with the sword, so I dismissed the useful warning from my mind. In short, I bought an estate for 6000 thalers, but soon discovered that I had exposed myself to the lightning, in avoiding the thunder, and that my good friend with his prophecy had shot very near the mark. For when I had scarcely half settled myself, a certain Junker, Vogelbach, with a couple of his associates, were the first to victimise me, as they call it. He lived about half a mile off; not that he had any property of his own, for he only rented a peasant's farm worth about 100 Imperial thalers, and spent his life, like others of the same sort, in 'Krippenreiterei.' How he maintained his wife and child I know not, but only that I frequently saw his wife with a cart and two ragged children on the estate of opulent nobles, collecting corn, bread, cheese, butter, and the like. They generally came once a month to beg all such articles of me. This Vogelbach was, as has been mentioned, the first who, with two of his associates, came to have a 'housewarming.' The first and second time they behaved themselves with some degree of discretion, wherefore I put before them what was best in the house. But this, in their opinion, was abundantly balanced by the honour of the noble brotherhood into which they had admitted me, and at last they could no longer refrain from their shabby tricks. 'It would become you, brother Kretschmer,' he began one day that he had filled himself with beer and brandy up to the eyes. But I made him remember these words by an unexpected box on the ear in such a sort that the good fellow was tumbled over into the middle of the room with his stool. My groom, a robust man who had been a soldier, and whom I had taken chiefly as a guardian spirit for the like cases of need, when he saw this, seized the other Junker W. by the collar, so that he could not stir. 'What,' said he, 'you villain, is it not enough for you to come here so constantly, to fill your hungry body and to fatten your meagre carcass? Do you choose to give my master this Deo gratias? The devil take me if one of you stir; I will so trim his Junker jacket, that there shall be a blue fringe on his bare back for six weeks.' 'We have nothing to do with these quarrels,' answered the two; 'if brother Vogelbach has begun one, he will know how to carry it out like a true cavalier.' The latter had meanwhile picked himself up, and was about to seize his sword. 'Keep your miserable blood-drawer in its scabbard,' I said, 'or I will assuredly stick the broken leg of this stool into you if you are not satisfied yet.' Thereupon he held his tongue, and went away with a black eye, accompanied by his noble companions. They mounted their horses and rode out of the gate. But as soon as they considered themselves safe, then they began to rail; they nicknamed me a hundred times a trade-fallen ostler. One of them tried to fire his pistol, but could not succeed; doubtless because there was neither cock nor trigger to the lock. At last they perceived that I was coming after them with half-a-dozen peasants; so they, hastened off, and sent me, about a fortnight afterwards, all three at the same time, a challenge, in the belief that I should never have the courage to meet them sword in hand in the open field; but they found themselves much mistaken.

"Being fearful, however, that the whole swarm of surrounding Krippenreiters would fall upon me, and unite in giving me a good drubbing, I took with me two troopers who were then in the country, and in the first pass gave V. such a good cut over the shoulder, that his sword fell from his hand, which he could no longer use. W. therefore lost at once all courage, so that on my second fight he was fain to make peace. No one conducted himself better than Michael von S., whom I had before considered the most faint-hearted. He fought well enough, till at last this threefold duel ended thus: the two companions were reconciled to me, but Vogelbach stipulated to have two more passes on horseback as soon as his arm should be healed, which, nevertheless, he has not carried out up to the present day.

"Thus I obtained rest from the brawls of 'Krippenreiters,' though there was no diminution of their visits; nevertheless, I soon experienced a much greater and more costly annoyance. My vendor had not only cheated me a good deal in the sale itself, but had concealed from me also an important redeemable interest; besides which, he had not given up all that was set down in the inventory. So I was obliged to bring a complaint against him before the government, and to employ an advocate. It was long beginning I was little disposed to do so; it was my wish to obtain the daughter of some good citizen with a few thousand thalers, and thereby to improve my housekeeping. But the false friend who over-persuaded me to the purchase, advised me to marry no one that was not of the old nobility, and also in the neighbourhood. 'In the first place,' said he, 'it is very uncertain whether the gentleman will meet with a rich party in Breslau, although he has got ennobled. But further, such city ladies as these have so little knowledge of country housekeeping that they do not even know a cow or an ox, nor what cheese or curds are. But the gentleman's household requires a mistress who has been brought up to it from her youth; such a marriage also is the only means of forming his children in time into country nobles.' With this view he proposed a lady of the neighbourhood, and offered himself to be the wooer. 'She is pretty, a good housekeeper, has some fortune, and is of old family; it will be impossible for the gentleman to find all that together in the city.' When I asked him what was the extent of her means, he boasted that it was 2000 thalers. I certainly doubted this, even then, as it was so large a marriage dower for the country, that any baron would have snapped at it; yet I let myself be persuaded at last, as the lady was not ill-educated, and my new nobility had driven all sound sense out of my brain. I soon found that the above pretended 2000 thalers sank to 400; even these were pending in a doubtful lawsuit, which would scarcely leave as much as would amount to the costs incurred, or as would pay for nuptials suitable to my position. Nevertheless, in the beginning I loved her on account of her good looks, and everything was knocked out of my head. As she had brought with her, however, no jewels, clothes, or other female ornaments, I inquired once of my lady mother-in-law where the chains, rings, and two taffeta dresses were, in which I had found my love dressed when I wooed her. But she answered me with a jeering smile, that if I had got her only in her shift I ought to be content, and feel thankful that such a noble family had demeaned itself so far as to give me their child, and they would still have trouble enough to wipe off this disgrace among their friends, who would decidedly not have consented to this marriage. But as concerned the dresses and ornaments, I must know that they had other daughters to think of and provide for. It was, besides, the custom in the country to procure a dress and ornaments which might do for two or three daughters; when one of them was smartly attired, it was the duty of the others to attend to the housekeeping, or if guests arrived, to feign illness, and content themselves with bed, till it was their turn. Therefore I must be satisfied, and if I would not let my wife appear so as to be a disgrace to me, I should, out of my own means, provide her with dress and ornaments befitting a noble lady. Thus all my ready money went, especially as the wedding had cost me much, for almost the whole province, with their wives, children, servants, and horses, fastened themselves upon me for a fortnight, and I could not rid myself of them so long as anything was to be found in the kitchen and cellar. Also what I procured for my wife was never rich and costly enough to please her and her mother; they always found some deficiency, and wished to have everything more perfect.

"Nevertheless, I controlled myself, and would have minded no expense, if I had only gained the smallest thanks for it; but what most pained me, was to feel that neither my wife nor any of her friends held me in the slightest consideration. Moreover my dear mother-in-law was a thoroughly malicious, proud, false woman, and as, according to the root of the tree, so are the leaves, her daughter followed in her footsteps. And as on this account I could no longer be fond of her, my groom often met with more friendly looks than I did. I had no reason to complain of her relatives not visiting me, for they did so oftener than I liked, and they did their best to consume all that they found. They thought that the devil would take them if they called me brother-in-law or uncle; the brotherhood must be considered all allegorical, and my mother-in-law took care, that the word 'son' should not escape her lips, especially if strangers were present. Never were they so comfortably together as when I was absent at Breslau or elsewhere; then they had the best opportunity to make themselves jolly at my expense, and they did so with some wine of which I kept three or four bottles in my cellaret for myself and my wife, and I found it quite empty when I returned home. Yet even that might have passed, if they had only not taken from me the corn from the ground, nay, even the cows and calves without my knowledge, and conveyed them away secretly for their noble relatives. But he who receives four thalers, and has to spend six, has no reason to care for a purse. So that I could easily calculate that in a short time I should become as good a Krippenreiter as my neighbours.

"But it pleased God to deliver me from this danger by the death of my beloved, who died in childbirth. Even under these circumstances I had to undergo a severe storm from my vexatious noble mother-in-law. She filled heaven and earth with her lamentations over the decease of her daughter, and wished to persuade all the world that the good woman had died of grief, that she had not married suitably to her position, and that it had been her (the mother-in-law's) fault I bore with her folly for a time, in hopes that the game would some day come to an end; but at last she broke out still further, and desired to have the ornaments and dresses I had bought for her daughter, and whatever else she had in her keeping, for another daughter. I threw at her feet some rags she had brought with her, and caused the corpse to be placed in a respectable coffin in the family vault, without inviting the mother-in-law or any other relations. I then determined to sell the property at the first good opportunity and betake myself again to the city.

"Sitting one evening thoughtfully at the window, looking at the servant doing his work, I accidentally observed that some one was at the gate defending himself with naked sword against the assault of the dog. I called out to the servant to hold back the dog, whereupon I was accosted by a well-dressed man with many compliments. 'My lord uncle,' he said, 'will not take it amiss if, according to knightly fashion, I do myself the honour of calling on you for a night's lodging in order to have the honour of making your acquaintance.' 'Not in the least,' I replied, 'if the noble gentleman will please to be satisfied.' I invited him in, and as the cavalier was so free with his cousinship, I could easily perceive that he was not of the neighbourhood. He soon let me know that he was a free knight of the Empire, from Alsace, and had been so ruined by the French, that he preferred turning his back upon his burnt property to submitting to their sway; now he was going to the Imperial court to seek military service. I could perceive the emptiness of this braggadocio from his knowing none of the noble families with whom I had made acquaintance in a former residence in Alsace. Therefore I dealt cautiously with the fellow, and the good lord and brother of the Imperial nobility was obliged to be satisfied with a straw mattress and pillow for his head. When I rose the next morning, I found neither Junker nor bedclothes, and missed, besides, my sword and pistols, which I had left in the sitting-room. I forthwith ordered my servants to mount and pursue him with clubs, and if they found the rascal, to knock him down and then let him escape, but bring back my things; for I was convinced that the man was a pickpocket, and that I should gain no advantage by his capture, but an expensive penal process, and have at last to pay for his hanging. The servants found him with his booty in the nearest wood, and executed my orders thoroughly. They brought my things back, but these cost me dear in the end; for, scarcely four days after, my place was burnt over my head in the night, without doubt by this rascal, so that I could hardly save the dwelling-house, but was obliged to look on at the destruction of the barns and stables, which with corn and cattle were burnt to the ground.

"This misfortune disgusted me so with country life, that I only built a couple of stalls for the remaining cattle, and shortly afterwards sold for 4000 thalers the property for which I had given 6000. After that I betook myself to the city."

Such is the narrative of the country householder to the young Dutchman. A few days after, the stranger had an opportunity himself of observing the life of an impoverished Silesian country noble. A young Herr von K., an educated and travelled cavalier, invited him to the property of his parents, and asked him to take a ride with him from thence to a neighbouring property where a christening was to be celebrated. The Herr von K. begged our hero to consent to allow himself to be introduced as a major in the Dutch service, "For I know," he said, "that otherwise these noble peasants will have no scruple in giving you the last place, and will show you no consideration, in spite of your superior education, and although, without impoverishing yourself, you might easily buy the whole of their property put together." What the Dutchman then observed he relates as follows:--

"The entertainment was of such a nature that there was no danger of the table breaking down under the weight of the dishes: a good dish of small fish with onion sauce, calf's head and trimmings, the whole interior of a pig in as many various dishes as there were parts, a couple of geese, and two hares; besides this, such rough watery beer, that one was soon obliged to have recourse to not much better brandy. In spite of this the society, which consisted of some twenty persons, was right merry, and the ladies more lively than the affected mercantile ladies of the city nobility. When the table was removed, a portion of the cavaliers danced about merrily to a couple of fiddles, and the room was filled with the fumes of tobacco. Then Frau von K. began, 'I have taken a fancy for this foreign cavalier, and have hopes that my son, who is also an officer, will be as much loved and esteemed in other places.' Frau Ilse von der B. answered, 'I, dear and honoured sister, am quite of another opinion. I could never exercise such tyranny on those belonging to me as to thrust them among these fierce soldiers, for I hear that they sometimes fare badly enough--have no warm beds for many nights, and besides, have no one to make them a mug of warm beer or bring them a glass of brandy. If I should hear that my son had been devoured by a long-necked Tartar, such as I have lately seen painted at Kretschem, I should be choked with grief. Therefore, I have thought it better to maintain my Junker Hans Christoph as well as I can on our little property at home. I must acknowledge that he has already cost me more than enough; for when I fitted him out as became a noble, my two best cows went, and I have not been able to replace the loss. But what does that matter; I see with pleasure that he knows how to behave himself like a nobleman. Only see, dear honoured sister, does he not dance nimbly, and hasn't he got a capital knack of whirling round with the ladies; he does not refuse to drink a glass of beer or brandy with any one; tobacco is his only pleasure in life; in all societies he makes himself so agreeable, that he sometimes does not come home for three weeks, possibly with a black eye. From that I can quite believe that he lays about him, and defends himself valiantly like a cavalier. Such also shall my Junker Martin Andres become.' The Junker who was standing by her, laid his head on the lap of his dear mother. 'The wild lad knows already that he is a Junker, therefore he does not desire to learn, but prefers riding in the fields with the young horsemen; he has already got into his head that he must wear a sword. This is a new anxiety to me, for I well know that in the end it will cost me a horse, and without special help from God, I shall have to part with a couple more cows. I must, however, buy him an alphabet, for his father always wished him to become a thorough scholar, as he himself was. Yes, if it cost nothing, and it were not necessary to buy so many expensive books for the learned lad, it would delight me. My eyes run with tears when I think how beautifully his honoured father said grace after meals, and did it as well as the pastor; also how he once recited before the prince, for a whole half hour, something, I know not what, in pure Latin. One thing pleases me much in my Martin Andres, that he has such a subtle, reflecting head. He himself suggested to me to help him sometimes to gain money, by allowing him to keep the redemption money for the stray cattle impounded on my fields. He is so intent upon this that he lurks the whole day in the corn to catch a couple of pigs or the like, whereby he has already gained as much as half a thaler. But, nevertheless, if I only knew for certain that my Junker Hans Christoph would prosper in this war business, like your noble sons, honoured sister, I would not let another year pass without endeavouring to persuade him to go. If he would but become for certain an officer or a baron, and obtain a rich wife. She, however, to suit me, must be of true, real, noble blood, for otherwise, I swear she should never be permitted to appear before me, even though she were up to her ears in gold. And who knows, dear honoured sister? I have all my life long heard that in other countries the nobility are not so good as with us, and that in Holland, from whence this officer comes, the women are driven to the market naked as God has created them, just like the cows. For my deceased honoured mother's sister, the dear Frau Grete von T. lived to see her son devil-ridden, and he brought home just such a wild woman. This so grieved her that she did not live much longer, and she could not be persuaded to see this wild woman more than once. But to return to my son. Junker Hans Christoph, if it should so happen that he were not sent among the Tartars, nor obliged to be a sentinel, I would try to persuade my old maid, who altogether reared and waited upon him, to accompany him for a year, and look after him, to wash his shirts and keep his head clean, and I would provide for her by sowing a half peck of flax seed on her account.'

"The Frau von K. would, probably have given a good answer to this nonsense, if she had not been led off to dance by Herr von K. Thus she left the old lady alone, with whom the Junker Vogelbach, who was present, and had a tobacco-pipe of a finger's length in his mouth, held this discourse:--'How are you--how fares it with you, my honoured and dear cousin? I observe that you rejoice to see Junker Hans Christoph enjoy himself. My word for it, he is an honest lad; I could have wished that he had been with me some days ago, when I had a tussle with a 'Peppersack' of Breslau; he would have seen with wonder how I belaboured the fellow; he had to beg for life, and afterwards to give a stately banquet in the best style to me and my seconds, at which we so enjoyed ourselves, that the good wine flowed like a river.' To this the old lady Von der B. replied: 'It is truly to your honour that, for the sake of a drinking bout, you make yourself so common with the citizens; and, above all, you, Junker Martin Heinrich, who are always hankering after wine, if only you can catch a glass, you drink in brotherhood with all sorts of people, be they citizens or nobles. Yes, you, indeed, as I have heard, call these Peppersacks uncle or cousin. If I could be sure of this, I swear that all my life long I will never call you cousin. Tell me, what is that scar you have on your forehead? Without doubt you have got it in another quarrel with them. That would do well enough if you would only not mix with the citizens.'

"'Do you take me for a fool,' said Junker Vogelbach, 'that I should call these fellows uncle or cousin, though the Emperor should have given them ever so grand a patent? Brother is well enough, so long as they give good wine; but we say, henceforth we will let the knaves alone.'

"Meanwhile the guests made themselves merry with tobacco, drinking, and varied converse, during which the Dutchman remarked, that, of the two tolerably well educated daughters of the host, one only was to be seen at a time at the dance, and each was dressed from head to foot the same as the other; from which he concluded that these good maidens were obliged to content themselves with one and the same dress, and that whilst one danced in the room, the other, who had retired, had to wait patiently without till her turn came again. 'Are not those dear children?' said their mother, who had seated herself with the other ladies, to Frau von der B.; 'they do all in so noble and suitable a style, it does my heart good to see how everything becomes them. If the Peppersacks in the city were to hang ever so much finery about them, the citizen would still peep out.' 'You say rightly,' said the other; 'my heart leaps within me when I see these city people swagger about in such fine dresses and ornaments, in their gilded carriages. Think I to myself, be as ostentatious as you will, were you every day, even to drink pearls instead of your best wine, you are still citizens, will remain citizens, and can never become equal to us.'

"Amidst such woman's prattle, laughing, shouting, dancing, and jumping, the night wore away, and as Von K. could well anticipate, that this entertainment would be concluded with the usual brawls and quarrels, he gave our Dutchman a wink, and retired with him to the house of a peasant of his acquaintance, where they passed the night on straw. The groom of the Herr von K. awoke them the following morning, saying, if they desired to witness a three-fold fight, in which Vogelbach would be the most distinguished combatant, they must rise quickly and betake themselves to a spot near the village, on the Polish frontier. Neither of them having any desire to do so, Von K., who felt ashamed that his countrymen were such ragamuffins, made a sign to his groom to be silent; they then mounted, and rode away conversing together pleasantly."

Here we conclude the narrative of Paul Winckler. About the year 1700, the habits of the country nobles became more civilised, their life more comfortable, and the bands of Krippenreiters became rarer. Still, however, individuals were sometimes tempted to defy the weak laws of the country, and repeatedly did the governments exert themselves against the cunning and violence by which unlawful possession was taken of the property of the deceased. Still did the greater part of the country nobles suffer from the burden of mortgages; frequent were the complaints about the rashness with which they were given and sold; and, as it is usually the custom to cheat in drawing up such mortgage-deeds, they far exceeded the value of the estate. Under these circumstances, there were everywhere legal auctions, where they were not prevented by feudal tenure or family regulations; only too frequently were the wax lights again seen burning, which, according to old custom, were burnt on the morning of an auction, and the duration of their flame marked the time during which the bidding of those who were desirous to purchase would be accepted.[52]

In most of the districts of Germany the acquisition of a nobleman's estate depended on the Ritterrecht, or laws and usages prevalent among the nobility in that district. Undoubtedly this custom was not in accordance with common law, but almost everywhere the noble proprietors of the district formed a powerful corporation, which excluded those who were not noble from the fall enjoyment of seigneurial rights of Standschaft, and from their assemblies. Even where those who were not noble were capable of holding a fief, they were so only under limitations. Sometimes the citizens of certain privileged cities had the right of acquiring the properties of noblemen, but this expired as soon as they ceased to belong to the favoured city. An exception, also, was sometimes made in favour of the city councillors forming part of the government of the country, and members of the universities. But the general rule was that those not noble, could only occupy a property as a mortgage, not with seigneurial rights as a possession. Even those who had been ennobled were not free to acquire a nobleman's estate as a possession; it required the consent of the rulers of the country or of the noble States. In the Imperial hereditary provinces this right could only be obtained by those noblemen who were raised to some rank of the higher nobility; and even then this right had to be purchased in each individual case, and from the sovereign ruler, and secured by a diploma. The Emperor endeavoured to obtain money even from the old families by obliging them to renew this right by the purchase of a general diploma for all their members.

But the Imperial Court imposed other limitations, dividing, up to the most modern times, the last escutcheon of its nobility into Edle, nobles, Herren, gentlemen, and Ritter, knights. Whoever was transferred from the order of citizens to that of nobles or knights, could not be buried with mourning horses and escutcheons if he continued his vocation as a citizen. And so far did Imperial administration reach, that even in 1716 a noble lady was forbidden to marry a Lutheran ecclesiastic, because that would be unbecoming a noble.[53]

But the approach of a new time may be clearly perceived, soon after 1700, in the life of the noble, as well as that of the peasant. It consisted in a better tone of feeling, both as head of a household and as a landed proprietor. A new literature started up suddenly, large and copious compilations, in which were introduced systematically the duties and secrets of agriculture, husbandry, and housekeeping; also of domestic and gentlemanlike education and training; they are respectable folios, handsomely bound and adorned with copper-plates, and it was considered meritorious to educate yourself from them. In 1682, von Hochberg had already dedicated his "Country Life of the Noble" to the landed proprietors of Upper Austria Soon after, the Count Palatine, Franz Philipp, under the name of Florinus, wrote a similar work, "To the Prudent Householder versed in the Law." Already, in Holstein, and soon after in Mecklenburg, the system of double rotation was introduced on the properties of the nobility. At the same time there was in most of the wealthy old families an increasing interest in art and science; it was thought becoming to have some historical and legal knowledge, to be acquainted with family traditions, and well versed in the aids to history, numismatics, and heraldry. The wives of the country nobles were benefitted by the deeper earnestness of the new pietism, and also, after 1700, from the sensible, sober character of the new culture. They were so often told that it was praiseworthy for a lady of rank to concern herself about her household affairs, and to bring up her children as Christian gentlemen in the fear of God, that one may well believe that these views entered into their daily life. About 1750, a travelled nobleman describes with pleasure what the daily work of the housewife ought to be. Indeed, a nobleman, in the middle of the last century, who lived peaceably on his property, and was tolerably wealthy, had a right to consider himself as one of the most fortunate representatives of his time. He lived uprightly, concerned himself about the great world no more than was necessary, lived in familiar family intercourse with the whole nobility of the neighbourhood, was only occasionally tipsy, reared his foals, sold his wool, and disputed with his pastor; by moderate strictness he got on tolerably well with his villeins, and had but rarely a suspicion how detrimental even to himself was the servitude of his labourers. If an old family was in danger of becoming impoverished, they were advised by the aforementioned zealous and well-meaning coadjutor of the noble, to marry with a rich heiress of the respectable citizen class, in case of necessity the family of the lady might be ennobled, and provided with ancestors on both father's and mother's side; the business, it is true, caused a small blot on their escutcheons, but it would be folly to regard that much.

But the old families were saved from sinking again into the people by numerous lucrative privileges. Very large was the number of benefices and prebends, and of sinecures in the cathedral church, in the orders of Malta and St. John, and in the monasteries of the nobles and other ecclesiastical endowments; and there was hardly an old family that had not some connection with them. Very general was the feeling among the nobility, that the Roman Catholic nobles were better off, because they could more easily provide for their sons and daughters; whilst the Protestant princes had seized most of the foundations. With pride, therefore, did the so-called knights of the Empire in Franconia, Swabia, and on the Rhine, look down upon the landed nobility; the Imperial capitulation not only assured them privileges, dignity, and greatness, but they were also closely united with the ecclesiastical princes and the foundations in their territories, and their families lived, with almost heritable right, to numerous ecclesiastical benefices. But, unfortunately, this support had not the effect of ensuring lasting prosperity to their families; nay, it was a chief cause of many becoming impoverished and corrupted in their isolation.

But still more fatal to the lower nobility was a privilege to which, even in the present day, they cling fast as a valuable advantage, and the lowering effect of which is not confined to them,--their right of admittance at court. The principle that any of the old nobility must have free access at court, and that it was not befitting a prince to have social intercourse in any other circle, acquired great importance after the year 1700. At this period the German courts gradually developed the tendencies which they have maintained up to the present day. The Imperial Court, and that of Louis XIV., were the pattern; but, at the same time, old home usages were continued at particular courts. Ever greater became the number of court appointments; needy princes even sold them for money.[54] The lord steward was over the whole court. There was a marshal, called "Hofmarschall" who had charge of the royal household; on occasions of ceremony he marched in front, with his gold staff and keys, and at the festive table he stepped behind the chair of his gracious sovereign as soon as the confectionery was served. The lord high-chamberlain really superintended the wardrobe of his royal master; sometimes with the advice of the royal lady, his wife, and distributed the cast-off clothes, not only to the valet, but to poor cavaliers.[55] His office also was important, for the costumes at most of the courts were numerous and various; it was only at the Prussian Court, and those connected with it, that the simple military coat of home-made cloth was the usual dress. Elsewhere, not only the gala dresses, but also the special costumes and fancy dresses for the high festivals, were subjects for great consideration, and it was no trifle for the chamberlain to ascertain accurately how the wardrobe at the different entertainments should be fittingly arranged; as when, for example, at the Turkish garden near Dresden the whole court appeared as Mussulmen, or when an extraordinary coronation dress was to be invented, as for the Elector Friedrich August of Saxony at the coronation at Cracow.[56] Even the stable became noble; it was under the master of the horse, as the hunt was under the grandmaster of the chase. As ceremonial had become the peculiar science of court, it was represented at most of the great courts by a grandmaster of the ceremonies. None watched more jealously than the princes themselves the marks of honour which they were to give and receive at visits; if on a visit sufficient respect was not shown to them, they rode away in anger, and threatened reprisals. Endless, therefore, were the complaints and grievances laid before the Emperor and Aulic Council; and yet this jealous watch over externals was not the result of self-respect, for in dealing with the powerful they were but too deficient in this. Regulations concerning precedence were always being renewed; almost every new ruler had pleasure in thus showing his supremacy, but, in spite of all ordinances, the disputes about rank, offices, and titles were endless--worse than the men, were the ladies. In 1750, at one of the royal courts, all the ladies of the nobility left their places in church because the daughter of one of the newly ennobled officials--a "wirklichen Geheimerath"--sought for a place in their choir.

This wide sphere of trifling interests gave great importance to the nobility, calculating from the Imperial Court at Vienna down to the household of the baron of the Empire, who always maintained one or more poor Junkers in his circle; together with the collateral and lateral branches of the greater families, it might be estimated that there were somewhere about 5 or 600 court households in Germany, besides 1500 households of "Knights of the Empire;" so that, undoubtedly, there were more than 5000 court offices and employments. The enormous number of these court places was not advantageous to the manly character of the noble. To be able to endure with smiles the humours and roughness of an unbridled sovereign, to be complaisant as the pliant servant of the despot's licentious desires, and of the mistresses' establishment, was not the worst effect. He was in imminent danger of becoming so base that the coarseness of the poor Krippenreiter appeared comparatively virtuous. It was a period when the noble mother gave her daughter with pleasure into the arms of the profligate prince; and when the courtier gave up his wife to him for money. And it was not only done by poor nobles, but also by the offshoots of royal houses. The nobles in some German provinces took the opportunity of practising similar complaisance, even in our century, towards Napoleon's princes and marshals. But the worst was that the great mass of the court nobility drew also the families of landed proprietors, who were related to them, to their residences. Sensible men were never weary of complaining that the country nobles no longer dwelt on their properties to the great damage of their coffers and morals; but thronged to the neighbourhood of the princes to ruin themselves, their wives and daughters in the pestilential atmosphere of the court. But these were fruitless warnings in the greater part of Germany till the middle of the eighteenth century.

Those who had more manly ambition filled civil or military offices. There was a peculiar aspect, also, about these nobles that bore office. If the son of an old family studied law, he easily gained by his family connection the situation of councillor; and rose from thence, if clever and well informed, to the highest offices, even to be de facto a ruler of states, or political agent and ambassador at foreign courts. Besides divers rogues who were drawn forth in these bad times, there were also some men of education, worth, and capacity, among the German nobility of this class, who already in the time of Leibnitz formed the real aristocracy of the order. It became gradually customary for nobles to occupy the highest official positions and the posts of ambassadors, after they had become an established court institution; also the appointments of officers in the army. Whilst the Imperial armies, to which the young nobles from the greater part of Germany were attracted, retained, even after the reforms of Prince Eugene, somewhat of the aspect of the old Landsknecht army under the Hohenzollerns; the new organization of the Prussian army formed the ground-work of an excellent education for the officers. The Elector Frederic William had perceived that the wild country nobles of his devastated realm could be best turned to account in the army which he created amid the roar of cannon in the Thirty Years' War. He restrained their love of brawls by military discipline; regulated their rude sense of honour by esprit de corps and military laws; and gave them the feeling of being in a privileged position, by raising none but nobles to the rank of officers. Thus was effected one of the most remarkable changes in the civilization of the eighteenth century, especially when King Frederic William I. and Frederic II. had so emphatically declared that every prince of the Hohenzollern house must be both soldier and officer, wear the same coat, be under the same subordination and the same law of honour as the most insignificant Junker from the country.

Thus it happened that the descendants of many families that had lived as drones in the Commonwealth became closely bound up with the fondest recollections of the people. But this political privilege of the nobility became, it is true, even in the State of the Hohenzollerns, a source of new danger to the families of the nobility, and, which was still more important, to the State itself. We shall have occasion to speak of this later.

Thus the nobility, about 1750, were at their highest point--everywhere the ruling class. Thousands of their sons did homage, in both the great and small courts; scarcely a less number established themselves in the stalls of ecclesiastical endowments, occupied prebends and carried Imperial "panisbriefs"[57] in their pockets. The softest seats in the senate, the foremost places in the State carriages of diplomats, were taken by them; almost the whole of the State domains were in their hands. But it was just at this period that a great change took place in the minds of the German people; a new culture arose, and new views of the value of the things of this world spread themselves, quietly, gradually, imperceptibly, no one knew how or from whence. The German sentences received a new cadence; German verses became less majestic, and soon even simple. This new seeking after simplicity spread still further. Certain bold enthusiasts ventured to despise powder, and perukes; this was contrary to all etiquette, but new ideas and new feelings came into circulation. Beautiful tender hearts, and the dignity of man were spoken of. Soon, also, distinguished personages among the nobility caught the infection, even Sovereigns; the Duchess of Weimar went with a certain Wieland in a carrier's cart; two Reichsgrafen von Stolborg were not disinclined to bend the knee to one Klopstock, and embraced by moonlight the citizen students.

Among the bel-esprits of the citizens who now gained an influence, none was more adapted to reconcile the nobles to the new times than Gellert. He was not genial: he knew well what was due to every one, and he gave every one his proper place; he had a refined, modest disposition, but was rather a pessimist; he was very respectable, and had a mild and benevolent demeanour towards both ladies and gentlemen. Great was the influence that he exercised over the country nobles of Upper Saxony, Thuringia, and Lower Germany. The culture of the new time soon got a footing in these families. The ladies especially opened their hearts to the new feeling for literature, and many of them became proud of being patronesses of the beautiful art of poetry, whilst the gentlemen still looked distrustfully on the new state of things. As in Germany, poetry had the wonderful effect of bringing the nobility into unprecedented union with the citizen class, so at the same time in Austria, music had for a time a similar effect.

But there were greater results than the mere poetical emotions with which Kalb, Stein, and the loveable Lengfelds received the German poets. Science now began to speak more earnestly and more powerfully. What she commended or condemned became, as if by magic, among hundreds of thousands, the law of life or the object of aversion. Not many years after 1750, in a wide circle of highly cultivated minds, which included the most vigorous of the burgher class, together with the noblest spirits among the nobility, the privileges which gave the nobles a position among the people, were considered as obsolete; and the State ordinances which preserved them were regarded with coldness and contempt.

Again there came a stern period; the noble generals of the Prussian army could not maintain the State edifice of the old Hohenzollerns; they were the first to give up the State of Frederick the Great, and pusillanimously to surrender the Prussian fortresses to a foreign enemy. One of the necessary conditions for the preservation and restoration of Prussia and Germany was, that the nobility must renounce their valued privileges in civil offices, and officers' appointment.

Since the rising of the people in 1813, the life and prosperity of the State has mainly rested on the power and progress of culture in the German citizen. The citizens are no longer, as in the middle ages, a class confronting the other classes; they form the nation. Whoever would place himself in opposition to it by egotistical pretensions, begins a hopeless struggle. All the privileges by which the nobility up to the present day have sought to maintain a separate position among the people, have become a misfortune and fatality to themselves. Many of the best among them have long comprehended this; they are in every domain of intellectual and material interests, in art, science, and State, the representatives of the new life of the nation. Even the country noble, who within the boundary of his village district holds faithfully and lovingly to the recollections of the olden time, has in some degree made friends with the new time, and in some sort yielded unwillingly to its demands. But among the weaker of them there remains even now somewhat of the hearty disposition of the old mounted rovers. The modern Junker is an unfavourable caricature of the nobility; if one observes closely, he is only a pretentious continuation of the old Krippenreiter. Under uniforms and decorations are concealed the same hatred of the culture of the times, the same prejudices, the same arrogance, the same grotesque respect for decaying privileges, and the same rough egotism with regard to the commonwealth. Not a few of these court and country nobles still consider the State like the full store-room of a neighbour, as their ancestors did two centuries ago; against these rise the hatred and contempt of the people.

CHAPTER III.

THE CITIZEN AND HIS SHOOTING FESTIVALS.

(1300-1800.)

It is on the simple truth, that every man is only valuable to his nation and State in proportion to his work, that the power and pride of citizenship rests; that is to say, in so far as he contributes to the welfare of others. But eighteen hundred years were necessary to establish this principle, and to make it perceptible to Germans, and still does the struggle continue to realize it, to introduce into the cities free competition instead of the corporate privileges of guilds, and into the State the right of personal character against the rights of birth. And yet it is only since this truth has penetrated into society, morals and legislature, that a sure, and as far as man can judge, indestructible foundation has been formed for the vitality of the nation. So slow has been the progress here of modern development.

It was from the capacity and the pride of the working citizen that the conviction arose in the German mind of the value of work. It first made the serf a free labourer of the commonalty; then it created a wealthy citizen class which spread itself firmly between the other classes; then it helped to add science to the mechanical labour and art of the citizen, and thus made him the representative of intellect, the guardian of civilisation, and the centre of the national strength. By this he ceased to be one of a class, and formed the essential element of the nation.

Nothing is more instructive than to observe the way in which the power of the German citizen became effective. However great was the industry, and however much developed the technical skill of handicraft under the Roman supremacy, the collective industrial activity lay under the ban of disregard. In the cities indeed at the beginning of the great migration, the remains of a sumptuous life still continued amidst marble columns and the vaulted halls of costly baths; and the guilds of the old handicrafts, with their chapels and exchanges were not only the casual forerunners of the later guilds of the middle ages, but perhaps their real progenitors, from whom the Germans acquired numerous handicraft implements and technical dexterities; nay, even many noble customs. But a great portion of the handicraft of antiquity was not the work of freemen: at least where anything of the nature of manufactures paid well, slave labour increased. Nevertheless, many freed men entered the old guilds; having been furnished by their masters with a small capital, they bought themselves into a Roman corporation: but it must be observed, that not only was such handicraft held to a certain degree in contempt by the full citizens up to the latest time, but the artizans, according to Roman tradition, were allowed little share in the government of the city; they had, together with undeniable local patriotism, a deficiency of the political culture, the self-respect, and the capacity of self-defence of free-born citizens.

Even among the ancient Germans, who came with the great migration, manual labour was not considered the most honourable occupation of the warrior; the poor alone used to cultivate the fields or to forge weapons at the smithy; long did the feeling remain, that there was less honour in earning money than in taking the property of others, in the shape of imposts or booty. Under such a condition of insecurity and violence did the cities arise. They were surrounded by strong walls, and shut out from the country, as once were the cities of old Latium; they were the refuge of oppressed country people, not only from the incursions of enemies, but also from the numerous small tyrants of the open country. For centuries they were governed by privileged free-born citizens, merchants, and speculators, similar to the Roman Empire; but under the patricians, the guilds were strengthened in the course of long and often bloody struggles within the walls; they acquired a share in the government, with essentially equal rights and equal duties. As a free man capable of bearing arms, the German citizen found that he could obtain riches, consideration, and affluence by means of his handicraft and his art. At the end of the middle ages, it became clear that the intellectual life of Germany had taken root in the cities.

Undoubtedly handicraft was under different conditions to what it is now. Whilst the common produce of individual mechanical labour was accurately defined in respect to material, form, and price, and the creative energy of individuals was entirely restrained by the traditions of their city and guild, a creative tendency appeared in all that required more delicate handling. The painter still rubbed his colours himself, and melted the varnish, but he also carved in wood, and engraved copper-plates. Albert Dürer still sold in the market stalls picture sheets with woodcuts, for which perhaps he himself made the letter-press, Whilst the arrangements of houses and churches frequently remained fixed, even in respect to size, in all fundamental points, the countless and often too florid details of the arabesques in the stonework showed the inward satisfaction with which the builder, when permitted the free exercise of his own fancy, followed the impulse to give expression to his own mind. The goldsmith was also designer and modeller; he took pleasure in making every article of value a work of art, into which he threw his whole soul. But it was just this union of restrictive tradition and free invention which was so beneficial to the handicraft of the cities, developing everywhere greater wealth, higher morality and culture. Throughout the whole country the cities became like the knots of a net of free societies, to which the gentry of the rural districts, far behindhand in civilisation, were in constant hostility. Long did an active hatred continue betwixt the money-getting citizen and the predatory landed proprietor; and on both sides there was bitter animosity. It is true that the noble order of Landowners were held in greater consideration; they were sustained by the pride of noble blood and of military skill, and by a multitude of prerogatives and privileges; but in fact the money-making citizen had already acquired the best rights, for so completely did he engross the whole culture and wealth of his time, that without him the country would have relapsed into barbarism.

Thus he became the aid of the Reformation, and the victim of the Thirty Years' War. But even after the devastation of that period, he, the weak and impoverished artizan of the city, felt himself a privileged man, whose prosperity depended on the superior rights he possessed. He endeavoured carefully to guard against strangers the privileges of his guild, of his patrician chamber, and of his community; he was only helpless in his relations with his sovereign. He was still an order in the new state, from which other orders were excluded. His work had lost much of its excellence, and this weakness has lasted up to the present day. Not only were trade and commerce impeded, but the technical skill of most of the artizans became less. Wood carvings and painted glass had almost perished, the arts of stone and wood carving were at the lowest ebb, and the houses were built small, tasteless, and bare. Printing and paper, which the small printing presses had deteriorated already before the war, continue poor even in our century. Equally so were the arts of the metal workers, goldsmiths, and armourers. The works of the cabinet-maker alone maintained their excellence through the rococco time, though even the chef d'œuvres of the celebrated Meister von Neuwied could not compare with the artistic chests of the Augsburgers about 1600; the art of weaving also, especially damask, came into fashion soon after 1650, but not in the cities preeminently. The new trades which attained to great importance, like that of peruke-maker, were of doubtful value to the national industry.

Equally great was the change which took place after the Thirty Years' War in the social life of the citizens, in their intercourse with each other and with strangers. In a former volume it was shown to what an extent individuals withdrew into their families. It is worth the trouble of examining more nearly what they lost by this. First, that feeling of self-dependence which the most diffident man acquires by frequent intercourse with strangers, the capability of co-operating with others in a larger sphere, of representing a conviction, acting in a manly way, and not submitting to any affront or unjust treatment, but at the same time yielding up pride and pretensions to the common weal; added to this the skill to organise themselves in new positions and more extended society, and to accommodate themselves to these altered circumstances. Such a tone of mind, the groundwork of all man's political capacity, was to be found in abundance at an earlier period. The power of the Empire and of the princes having become very weak, the aptitude of individuals to act in masses was strongly developed, but after the war the laws of the newly-formed states pressed with such an iron hand, that all the art and practice of self-government was lost.

This change shall be here shown, in a single phase of citizen life--the great prize shooting festivals. They are more especially adapted to give a picture in detail of the stately and splendid public life of the German citizen in olden times, and to show that we are only now beginning--though certainly with higher aims--again to attain to what our ancestors had already found.

It has been a German custom, older than Christianity, to celebrate the awakening life of nature in May. This has always been a martial feast, in which the fundamental idea of the old heathen faith, the victory of the awakening divinities of nature over the demons of winter, was dramatically represented. In the rising cities it was the warlike youth of the freeborn citizens who lead the May sports, and in the Hohenstaufen time these sports assumed the form of fashionable knightly festivals. Thus in the year 1279, at Magdeburg, on the borders of the Rhine, where Saxon blood had formed one of the strongest fortresses of German life against the Sclavonian, the Whitsuntide feast was celebrated quite in knightly style. The young mounted yeomen arranged a great tournament in their Elbe island "the Marsh," under their Maigraf, Bruno von Stövenbecke; the arrangements were all written down, and the merchants of Goslar, Hildesheim, Braunschweig, Halberstadt, and Quedlinburg invited. They came splendidly-equipped, and courteously broke a lance with two young comrades of Magdeburg in front of the city, and then rode festively through the gates to the island on which many tents were pitched. The prize settled by the Magdeburgers for this May tilt was, like the figure on their coat-of-arms, a maiden.[58] An old merchant from Goslar won the beautiful Sophie; he took her with him and married her, giving her so good a dowry as to enable her to live ever afterwards honourably.

A century later, in May 1387, the Magdeburgers celebrated a great festival on the "Marsh," and again they contended for a maiden; but the combat was no longer in the style of a tournament, such as their bishop held at the same time on the other side of the city, but it was in a great archery court. To this archery meeting they again invited the friendly cities of Brunswick, Halberstadt, Quedlinburg, Aschersleben, Blackenberg, Kalbe, Salza, and Halle. A citizen of Aschersleben won the maiden.

During this century there was a great change in the life and constitution of the German cities; the patrician youth with their knightly customs were no longer the representatives of the power of the burgher class, the commonalty of the city already began to feel themselves masters, and their weapon, the cross-bow, gained the prizes. Soon after 1300, the societies of Archers arose in the German cities, with their regulations, archery houses, and yearly shooting festivals; as a brotherhood they erected an altar or built a chapel, and obtained from the Pope's Legate absolution for all who attended the mass, which they established on the day of their patron saint, the holy St. Sebastian. These guilds were favoured by the city magistrates, who helped to arrange the great prize shootings of their city. But however much the citizen bow superseded the knightly lance at the feasts of arms of the cities, some of the terms of knightly language continued long in use. The prizes were still in the sixteenth century called "ventures;" still longer did the term "tilting" denote the contention between individual marksmen who had shot into an equal number of circles, and a "course" signified a certain number of shots.

After the time of that archery court of the Magdeburgers, mutual shooting festivals are mentioned by the chronicles of other cities. They were quite common, at least in southern Germany, about 1400; for example, Munich sent its archers almost every second year to contend in the neighbouring cities, and the "customs" of the public shootings were already at that period firmly established. Thenceforward they spread over the whole of Germany, increasing in magnitude and splendour. They, as well as the German burgher-class, were at their highest acme about 1500; in the century of the Reformation they became more extensive and costly, and more diversified in customs and characteristics, but shortly before the Thirty Years' War they showed many symptoms of decline. The increasing power of the princes, and the commencement of modern court splendour, were mixed up with the old customs--the festivals became very costly, and a refined love of pleasure began to appear.

Prize-meetings were not only established in the cities, they were held sometimes by the princes and wealthy nobles, as early as the fifteenth century, and still more frequently when in the century of the Reformation armour and lances declined in importance. The great landed proprietors of the neighbourhood, or the princes of the country, were received as honoured guests at these meetings of the cities. Still the archers were for the most part citizens, and the occasional princes and nobles were placed under their banners. At an early period even free peasants were allowed to enter the lists, but this became rare in Germany after the Peasant War, though they continued to do so in Switzerland, where a powerful peasantry have never ceased to exist. The equal right of all, without distinction of ranks, both as to prizes and penalties, is a citizen characteristic, and by far the greatest number of associations, as well as the most important, came from the cities.

During so long a period many of their usages altered, and others were developed in different provinces, but yet the unity of their proceedings from the Oder to the Rhine, from the Alps to the Vistula, is very striking. They represent during this whole period a brilliant phase of German life, the noble hospitality exercised by martial city communities towards other friendly cities. The self-respect of the citizen found in them its most powerful expression. Many characteristic qualities of our forefathers are more especially perceptible in them; pride in their own city, a lively and sensitive feeling of honor even with respect to friends, satisfaction in appearing in processions, whether on serious occasions or in sport, and in representing with dignity, and above all, pleasure in showing, on public occasions, among many thousands, their manliness, worth, and charity in word and deed.

If a prize shooting was determined upon in a city, messengers bore the proclamation of the council, and frequently also of the archery association, to their good neighbours far in the country. The number of cities invited was sometimes very great. In 1601, 156 cities were invited to one shooting festival, held at Halle, and archers came from fifty, though the weather was bad and the prizes not high. At Strasburg seventy places were represented in 1576, in 1573 there were 187 cross-bow men sent from thirty-nine places to Zwickau, amongst them were three Swabian peasants from Göppingen, all of whom, to the great vexation of the proud citizens, won prizes. At the cross-bow shooting at Ratisbon, in 1586, thirty-five towns were represented by 210 cross-bow men. At the costly prize-shooting in 1614, at Dresden, twenty-one of the invited cities sent representatives, but eleven did not. But the hospitality was not limited to those alone who were invited: at an earlier period special prizes were, assigned to those who came from greater distances; thus the Augsburgers, in 1508, rejoiced that a German marksman came even from Paris, and another time a marksman, who came from Striegau, in Silesia, obtained a golden ring, the prize for strangers. Sometimes it was expressly denoted in the invitation that every qualified man was welcome, or the places invited were requested to spread the notice among the nobles and archers of their neighbourhood. When the feasts became very costly, the uninvited guests were, though allowed to shoot, not entitled to a share in the chief prizes which had been assigned by the giver of the feast. That such limitations were, however, not usual is shown by the grief of the two Amstädters, who, at the cross-bow shooting at Coburg in 1614,[59] were excluded by the Duke Johann Casimir from his principal prizes; they wished to return home, and were with difficulty persuaded to remain.

In the programme all the conditions of the prize-shooting were accurately enumerated; with fire-arms the weight of the ball, and with the cross-bow the length of the bolt was accurately defined; for the latter the size was generally established by a parchment ring, the distance from the stand to the target was given in feet, and the length of the usual foot was expressed by black lines in the programme. Sometimes they measured by paces, in that case two of the stranger competitors, a neighbour from the nearest city, and one from the most distant, stepped the distance and settled it together.

The number of shots also allowed to each was affixed on the butt and target. At the smaller meetings in ancient times, they were about twelve, fifteen, or sixteen; later, at the great meetings, they rose to thirty, forty, or even more shots. With fire-arms the shooter sometimes fired three shots in succession from his place, but with the cross-bow only one, and they shot in divisions, quarters, and standards, sometimes arrayed under banners according to the towns. At the grand cross-bow shooting at Ratisbon, in 1586, a pattern meeting of moderate size, the Protestant and Catholic places were carefully divided. Then each of the three, four or five standards had to shoot in a definite time; when all the standards had shot once, it was called one shot, or one course, the best shot of each standard of each course was called the bull's eye.

The most ancient weapon was the cross-bow, with steel bow and bolt, which was stretched by a pulley; it began to supplant the hand bow and arrow shortly before 1400, but the latter was still used in the army for some time, for example, in the Burgundian War, nay, it was sometimes used in the sixteenth century, at the shooting games.[60] The cross-bow, after 1400, became shorter and more handy, and at the end of the prize-shooting festivals, a smaller one was used with a trigger for amusement. The cross-bow was drawn in braces, or secured in a network, so that no accident might arise if it sprung; the bolt with an iron point and a feather shaft was provided for the popinjay, with filed iron teeth, which, in hitting, split the joints of the wood; the pointed or, later, the blunt bolt served for target practice; the archer shot without a rest. The cross-bow, up to the Thirty Years' War, was considered by the prize-shooters as the most distinguished weapon, and continued so, even long after it had been supplanted by fire-arms in war and in the chase; it was more especially retained by the aristocratic party, the princes and patricians. If a prize-shooting with crossbow and fire-arms was announced, the competition between the cross-bow and the arbalat was at the beginning, the fire-arms at the conclusion with inferior prizes; much of the fun of the festival was attached to the cross-bow shooting. But at the beginning of the sixteenth century, at all the prize shootings, the use of fire-arms had increased at least twofold.

About the year 1400, fire-arms began to be heard at the prize-shooting festivals. At Ausgburg, in 1429, hand-guns and muskets were used, and guns with small lead balls. In 1446 the first prize shooting with arquebuses and muskets was held; afterwards the hand-gun in its various forms always prevailed. The practical Swiss were among the first to give the preference to fire-arms. As early as 1472, at the great prize shooting at Zurich, only guns were announced; after that, at important festivals, both weapons had prizes assigned to them, but at smaller ones frequently only fire-arms. The gun of the prize-shooter, up to 1600, was the smooth hand-gun for one ounce balls, with a straight or crooked stock,--all grooves were forbidden.[61] The shooter fired without a rest; the gun when fired was not to rest upon the shoulder; it was not to be supported by any strap in the sleeve or round the neck; it was only to be loaded with one ball; the gun was only to have a small round sight at the end. After 1600 rifled weapons, for the first time, received prizes at special meetings. At Basle, in 1605, a prize shooting for arquebuses was announced, the distance 570 feet, the target two and a half feet round the nail; and for muskets with crooked or straight grooves and balls of one ounce--distance, 805 feet; target, three and a half feet. It must be mentioned, by the way, that sometimes at great shooting festivals heavy guns were also used, such as arquebuses, falconets and serpents, as in Strasburg 1590, at Breslau in 1609, and frequently at Leipsic, where these exercises were preferred; however splendidly these festivals, after the pattern of the old prize shootings, were appointed, they had more especially a practical aim, and were not generally attended by strangers.

Different as the weapons so was the mark. The bird on the pole was very ancient. But when guests began to appear in numbers the bird was inconvenient. The duration of the shooting could not be reckoned upon; a violent wind easily diverted the course of the bolts. At last the pole fell altogether, or the bird broke off, before it was shot into splinters; the falling splinters also gave occasion to much quarrelling and discontent. The consequence was, that in the greater part of Germany, the more convenient shooting butt very soon supplanted the bird at all large cross-bow meetings; this was the case in Switzerland and Suabia. On the other hand, the Thuringians, Meisseners and Silesians, long adhered to the bird. In Breslau the popinjay shooting was practised in great perfection; there, after 1491, a heavy bird of silver, richly gilded, with gold chains and golden shield, and the city arms on the breast, was carried before the king of the shooters. But at the prize shooting of the Silesians many birds were set up of different colours and with prizes of different value. Thus in Breslau, in 1518, they set up three birds--red, green, and black; each person who knocked off one of the forty joints of the birds gained a silver spoon; but, besides this, there was also cross-bow shooting at a mark, a small square target. In the year 1560 there were again three at Breslau; and at the grand shooting at Löwenberg, in 1615, there were five birds. The fallen splinters which had not brought special prizes were weighed, and only those of half an ounce were of value.

But the butt targets, also for cross-bows and fire-arms, were various. For the cross-bow a small circular plate, sometimes plated, and the outer circle painted with a garland, was fixed on the dark shooting butt, and after each course exchanged for a new one; for the fire-arms there was almost always a hanging target, and in 1518 at Breslau a shield--that is to say, a painted wooden table. The distance from the shooting stand to the mark for the cross-bows was 340, and later 300 feet; for the fire-arms from 650 to 750 feet. These are wide distances for weapons so imperfect in comparison with our times. On special occasions, when any young princes attended the festival, nearer marks were prepared for them--a half distance,--and other prizes. At such shooting feasts the whole of the adjoining Court took part.

The preparations in the city began some months before the feast. The lodgings were prepared for the guests; the safety of the city was provided for; the goldsmiths worked in silver the prize cups and vases, and struck also medals and show specimens; the tailors stitched incessantly at new festival dresses for halberdiers, pages of honour, and motley personages; the shield painters drew arms, garlands, and ciphers, on more than a hundred standards. On the shooting ground the lists were marked; wooden boards brightly coloured, and adorned with representations of fir-trees, garlands, and colonnades; the interior of the shooting-house was newly painted, and later carpeted; shooting-stands and pavilions erected for the shooters, and clerks booths; outside the lists there were kitchens, bowling-grounds and booths; also a spring for the water-drinkers, which, in case of need, was newly dug. Especial care was taken, at these cross-bow meetings, of the small target where the bull's-eye was. As these cross-bow meetings were in all respects arranged in the most finished style, and were a pattern for other similar shooting-meetings, we will describe many of their usages. The target place was a large wooden building, that represented the front of a house with doors and many stories, or looked like a triumphal arch, or a temple with cupola towers, or sometimes like the high wooden altar of the sixteenth century, all beautifully painted with the colours of the city or country, ornamented with coats of arms and figures. At Strasburg, in 1576, there stood great sculptures, a griffin and a lion keeping watch on each side; beneath, in the middle of the building, was the butt, either covered with some dark colour or canvas. It could be turned round by mechanism, in order that after each course the bolts might be drawn out without danger, and the butt provided with a new circular plate, for the next shooting meeting of the society. Sometimes the whole heavy building which rose above it was movable, and turned to face the rows of seats for the different divisions of shooters. Beside the butt itself, there were in the building sometimes small projecting guard-houses, or little turrets, for the markers, from which they could watch the target without being hit. At the top of the building there was a complicated clock, with the ciphers from one to four on the dial-plate, and over it a bell. On the highest point stood generally a movable carved figure, often Fortune on a ball (for example, in 1576, at Strasburg; 1586, at Ratisbon; in 1614, at Dresden), which after a bad shot turned her back on the shooter; or as at Coburg, in 1614, a mannikin on a tower, who after a good shot waved a banner, or for a bad shot mockingly bit his thumb.

When these preparations of the honest citizens approached their completion, it became necessary for the council to search out some of those minor officials of the festivities whose occupation is not what can be called very noble, but was quite indispensable, the Pritschmeister.[62] For a great festival, four, five, or more of these fellows were desirable; but they were not to be found in every city. If they were not at the place, they were sent for to Nüremberg and Augsburg, or wherever else in the country they happened to be wandering. It was a very ancient vocation that they followed At the same time that the fantastic city tournaments of the young patrician were transformed into the useful shooting exercises of the martial citizen, this tomfoolery had changed into a peaceful civic occupation, which retains something of the duties of the old herald, and not less of the old festive jesting of the roving fool. They were criers, improvisatori, police-officers, and buffoons of the prize shooters; they understood accurately the convenance, manners, and every ceremonial of the shooting-ground; gave good counsel to hesitating regulators of the festival; delivered the poetical festival speeches; punished light transgressions against the rules of the shooting-ground with the fool's baton; and even helped at the festive banquet, when necessary, by a rough joke, or even by serving. They had come from far, and knew how to deal with proud princes and strict councillors. When it was not festival time, they carried on a modest trade that did not require much perseverance. But sieve-making or the wool trade did not please them in the long run: at least they describe themselves, in the numerous verses they have left behind them, as poor devils,[63] who eagerly looked out for the rumour of some great festival at Court, and went many days' journey, speculating whether perhaps they might have an opportunity to exercise their office at some prize shooting. If they did not succeed in that, there still remained to them the pleasure, during the festival, of waiting upon old patrons among the shooters, and, by dint of toadying, of obtaining wherewith to fill their hungry stomachs; finally, they had the old consolation of poets, to describe in verses the occupation they had no longer the pleasure of joining in, and collecting remuneration for these verses. It is true that their descriptions of friendly and distinguished prize shootings are almost always in very bad rhyme; but they are very valuable to us, because they introduce us to the smallest details of those festivals. The office, too, of pritschmeister is worthy of observation.

It is only in accordance with German nature to make the fool the police-officer of the festival. The blow of his baton strikes the lord as well as the peasant boy, and his irony lashes the arrogant prince's son, and brings the colour into the cheeks of the most impudent. The sensitive pride of the Junker,--every offence to which, from a yeoman of the guard, would have been resented as a deadly affront,--unresistingly suffered the pritschmeister, in the exercise of his office, to seize and drag him to the place of punishment. But even the jests of the pritschmeister are deserving of observation, for they are lasting; an endless variety of tricks and pleasantries, a definite hereditary art of being merry, typical forms of foolery many hundred years old; and they were earned on with a certain earnestness,--nay, even pedantry. Undoubtedly these stale tricks had their irresistible effect only when men were disposed to be in a merry humour, but their antiquity makes them to us like woodcuts, in the angular lines of which there lies a certain charm. When, for example, at the end of the shooting, the unfortunate shooter, who had won the last prize, received this prize,--a sow with six young ones,--from the pritschmeister, who wished him happiness, and calculated at length the increase of the porcine family in his house from year to year, and that he would after three years become master of 2401 head, the hearers of the joke were not the less amused because they had heard the same reckoning made ever since their childhood on similar occasions; for it acts like a melody, that exercises its greatest magic on the hearer when it has become familiar to him.

The pritschmeister knew well that it was his duty to be a fool. It is true, there were some proud fellows among them who were ashamed of their cap; but they were derided by their own companions. Thus in 1573, the pritschmeister of Zwickau was serious and haughty; but he suffered for it under the contemptuous shrugging of the shoulders of his colleague, Benedict Edelbeck, who had wandered from Bohemia to the prize shooting, and knew better what became a pritschmeister. They bore also certain tokens of the fool,--the cap, and a striking variegated dress, in the colours of the city, which they kept as a festival present. At particularly distinguished shooting feasts they were very grandly attired; for example, at Coburg in 1614, there were five of them who wore the colours of the royal house,--yellow silk waistcoat, black hosen, yellow English stockings, long black and yellow knee ribands, beautiful Cordova shoes with silk ribands, a Spanish velvet hat with yellow feathers, a kasseke with loose sleeves, red, yellow, and black embroidery before and behind, with coats of arms; besides all this, the large club, and round the knee a string of bells, which rattled loud.

Their batons, often preposterously large, of leather or of split clacking wood, and sometimes gilded, had much to do on the shooting-ground. With them they cleared the lists of the thronging people, and punished those who transgressed the rules. Anyone who ran between the shooter and his mark after the clock was set, anyone who disturbed the shooters at their stand, who misbehaved from drunkenness or insolence, or who injured the weapons of strangers from wantonness or spite, fell under their jurisdiction without respect of rank; and this jurisdiction was exercised in a remarkable way. Far on one side of the shooting-ground was erected a conspicuous scaffold, on which were two coloured benches. This building was called, according to an old bitter jest, "the gallows;" and later, the "pritschmeister's pulpit;" to it the culprit was led with many grotesque ceremonies, there laid upon the bench, and belaboured with the baton in a way which was neatly expressed in the old technical language by this sentence, "His head was cut off at the tail." At the same time the pritschmeister delivered a discourse, which did not make his position more agreeable. One may conceive how attractive this practice of the law was to all who did not partake of it. The custom was carried on through the whole of Germany, most moderately by the serious Swiss, and decorously and impartially in the cities. At a later period, when great princes arranged shooting festivals, traces of royal humour are to be found, which enjoined the performance of this scene on minor personages for insignificant misdemeanours. Thus, after the prize shooting in 1614, Elector Johann Georg diverted himself by having not only some scullions, but even one of his bears cudgelled; the bear had to be chained to the bench. The pritschmeister obeyed his Electoral Grace, but in his inward heart he felt that such things were not in his office.

As assistants to the pritschmeister, some of the most idle boys of the city were chosen, and they also were put in fool's attire. Among this insolent brood the most zealous guardians of the law were to be found; they easily learnt some of the tricks of their master, and they carried goose wings, wooden clappers, and short pipes. They fell like a pack of hounds on any peasant child that ran across the shooting-ground, and greeted such as had shot ill with grimaces and monkey gestures. At Coburg they went in procession in a great band, dressed in black linen with white seams and patches, following a tall dark man, who wore a similar dress, and trousers after the old Landsknecht fashion. He was the head shoemaker, Martin Pauker, a gloomy, haggard fellow, who never spoke a word, but during the whole shooting was incessantly assuming grotesque disguises. In the procession he trailed along an enormous linen banner, the doubtful badge of honour for those who had shot worst of all; but on the return home he bore the great kettle drum, which he allowed to be beat upon his back; on the shooting-ground he appeared as a wild man, enveloped in straw and brushwood; then as a monk or nun; but soon he came in a splendid dress, riding on an ass, and at last waddled about in bearskin; he was always disguising himself, always drunk and dismal, but he had his own quiet enjoyment in the whole affair.[64]

If pritschmeisters were engaged by the givers of the feast, and the city was in repute for doing its duty, possessed good friends, and had announced grand prizes, there was sure to be a great concourse. The invited cities had the festival announced to their citizens by affixing public notices, or by proclamations. It was with them an affair of honour to be represented by good marksmen, and these frequently received money for their journey out of the city coffers, in return for which, when they went home, they handed over the silk banners they had won to the council or shooting society. These deputies were generally men of distinction; but besides these there were other citizens who went to the meeting at their own cost. Thus at Coburg in 1614, besides the four shooters who were sent by the city of Schweinfurt, one Hans Schüssler, a small, insignificant man, had come on his own account. His fellow-citizens looked askance at him and excluded him from their society, but he hit the bull's-eye at the first shot: then he jumped for joy, and exclaimed, "I was not good enough for my country people to bring me with them; now, God willing, I will do better still." He made the most bull's-eye shots, and won a beautiful goblet.

A day or two before the festivities, the strangers who came to shoot arrived from all parts. The council had to provide them with cheap quarters, and it was enjoined on the citizens that they were to abstain from annoying them. Many of the strangers met with a hospitable reception from some of the cities. If royal persons were invited, their arrival was announced by a courier; they were received by the council, lodged, and provided with the usual gift of honour,--wine, beer, and fish. Sometimes a preliminary shooting trial took place with the guests who had arrived before the first day of the festival; on such an occasion at Ratisbon in 1586, a beautiful large goat, covered with red Lund cloth, together with a beautiful banner, was presented by the council to the best shot. In Suabia and Bavaria a goat thus attired was often given at these smaller shooting trials.

On the morning of the festival the pritschmeister, with the city band, went through the streets, calling the strangers to the meeting at the shooting-ground. The givers of the festival marched in solemn procession, the pritschmeister in front; behind, the markers, equally in new dresses and the colours of the city, their marking rods in their hands; then the trumpeters and fifers; next the dignitaries and marksmen of the city, followed by a train of young boys of the city, all dressed alike in festal attire, sons of families of distinction, who bore the small target banners; after them perhaps, led by a pritschmeister or some other jovial personage, the boys with the contumelious banners, the derisive distinction of the bad shots. Then came other boys, who bore coloured chests, in which were the bolts and the principal prizes of the shooting. The large and small goblets were either brought out during the procession, or placed in a special pavilion on the shooting-ground, under the care of the city police.

On the shooting-ground the drum was again beat, and the marksmen called together by the pritschmeister. The deputy of the city then delivered a solemn address of greeting, in which he called to mind the old friendship of the invited cities, and expressed his best wishes for the festival. The pritschmeisters went again with music round the shooting-ground, and one of them proclaimed aloud once more the programme of the invitation, and admonished the marksmen to collect together by cities, and choose their "siebeners" or "neuners." These were magistrates of the shooting-ground, the higher judges of shooting law; they were chosen out of the most distinguished men of the town, some by the givers of the feast, others by the shooters according to their districts. If the larger cities, Nüremberg, Augsburg, or Magdeburg, were among the guests at the beating of the drum, it was decided by them which should be chosen as representatives of the strangers. The free Imperial cities were more particularly designated for this, equally so any royal personages present, who often even undertook the wearisome task of "neuner." These were treated with particular distinction at the entertainment. Among them were the secretaries, frequently three, who noted down in special tents the announcements of the shooting. Every marksman had to show beforehand his bolts and bullets, cross-bow and gun; each bolt was examined, whether its iron point could pass through the opening of the parchment ring, for the thicker bolts made a larger opening in the target, and the measurement being taken from the edge of the hole to the centre point, the difference of thickness in one bolt would be prejudicial to the others. If the bolt was proof-worthy, the name of the possessor was written on the shaft, and only bolts so inscribed could be used. Every shooter had, besides, to make his money deposit before he was allowed to shoot. These preparations occupied many hours, often the greater part of the first day. The time was frequently filled up by a collation, given by the city council to the strangers who shot: in the earlier and more moderate period it consisted of wine, good beer, and simple food, fruit, cakes, butter and cheese. When the marksmen were inscribed and had made their deposits, they were divided into "quarters" or banners,--three, five, and more banners; frequently each "quarter" had its special stand.

Now at last began the great shooting in "courses," or "shots with the cross-bow," so that the "quarter" shot one after the other, each shooter one shot.

Opposite to the place of the target, in a special wooden building, were the stands of the shooters. But their method of shooting appears striking to us. Before the beginning of the course, a pritschmeister went over the shooting-ground with fifes and drums, and called the marksmen by divisions to their stands. They pressed forward to it in haste, and sat in rows, according to regulation, by lot, each in the stand to which his name was affixed. As long as the division was shooting, no one left his stand, and none of the neighbours must disturb them by word or movement. Thus they sat, cross-bow in hand; then the pritschmeister called out, "Marker, set the clock going." At the signal the hand was set in motion, each "quarter" being signified by the striking of the clock. During this time each marksman was to shoot; he shot sitting, at least such was the custom in the interior of Germany after the middle of the sixteenth century, but they were not allowed to support either themselves or their crossbows. When the hand had finished its circuit round the clock, the bell sounded, a steel mirror was lowered by a hempen cord, and covered the dial-plate, and a grating either rose from the earth, or descended from the wooden building in front of the butt, in order to guard it from the eager shooters. Then began the labours of the neuner, secretaries and markers. If the butt was movable, it was turned round. Behind it stood a table for the secretaries, the inscribed bolts were drawn out, the bull's-eye shot and those in the circles were transcribed, the farthest shot also was noted down. But the marker filled up the holes made by the bolts, blackened the injured places in the butt, and put on a new plate. In this way the collective divisions of marksmen having fired one shot, the bolts were borne in solemn procession with the pritschmeister, fifes and drums, to the shooting-house: there the less successful bolts were placed in the box of their owner, but those which had been distinguished shots were laid in an ornamental wooden Attrape; in Zwickau, in 1573, it was a large white swan, the city arms. The bolt of the bull's-eye had a place of honour, and the most distant had also a distinguished place. After this first course the distribution of prizes began.

They endeavoured to give marks of distinction in every direction, and to provide as many marksmen as possible with prizes; but our ancestors did not object to humiliate by bitter jests those who had performed ill. Prizes were awarded to those who hit the bull's-eye, also to those who had shot oftenest near it, and if his remaining shots were not near enough for him to gain a chief prize, he had a special present. But the great prizes were for the marksmen who, at the end of the shooting, scored the greatest number of shots in the circles. All who could not obtain a prize within the prescribed number of shots, had the right, before the end of the meeting, to contend among themselves for smaller prizes. All the prizes of the festival, were settled by the givers of the feast, and they were reckoned in the programme collectively with their worth in silver. Every shooter at the beginning of the festival before his name was inscribed, had to make a deposit of money; this deposit was not insignificant, and became higher in proportion to the pretensions of the festival. Whilst at a former period two gulden had been deposited, it rose to six and eight Imperial gulden in the last fifty years of the prize shootings; indeed they deposited as much as twelve Imperial thalers at the cross-bow shooting given by the elector Johann Georg at Dresden in 1614, which, according to the value of silver and corn, would answer to about thirty thalers of our money. But undoubtedly all prize shootings were not so aristocratic. A portion often of the deposits at these festivals was voluntary. The obligatory deposits were turned into secondary prizes, and these were distributed in small sums among as many of the shooters as possible. With the voluntary deposits, small articles of plate were frequently bought for an after-shooting. Sometimes also the giver of the feast spent something for this; in that case these deposits of the shooters were employed as small money prizes for the after-shooting.

With all the prizes at the great shooting feasts large and small banners were presented, with the colours of the town or country, and the arms or garlands, painted on them, and often also the value of the prize. To bear away such a banner was a great honour. The strangers took them proudly to their homes, and delivered them to the council of their city, or to their shooting brotherhood, who had paid the costs of their journey. Very modest at first were the prizes of the victors: they were long designated as "ventures:" a romantic charm still attached to the foreign word, which originated in the jargon of the old tournaments. A fine ram was the first prize at Munich about 1400, and at Kelheim in 1404. Soon afterwards an ox, a horse, or a bull, and the animals often covered with a valuable cloth: thus, in 1433, at Nüremberg, a horse covered with a red cloth was the best. The secondary prizes were small goblets, silver vases, girdles, cross-bows, swords, or a prize which has always been a special object of preference with the inferior shooters, and everywhere, up to modern times, has clung to shooting societies--material for a beautiful pair of small-clothes. He who came from the greatest distance to the shooting, received, at Augsburg, in 1425, a golden ring. But at the same place, in 1440, the first prize was already a sum of money, forty gulden; and the horses and cattle were the last. They rose rapidly in value at Augsburg in 1470; 101 gulden was the best, and about 1500 this sum became usual: in 1504, at Zurich, 110 gulden was the chief prize, 90 the second, and so in succession down to one gulden, all doubled for cross-bows and guns, and, which is not rare at the Swiss shooting meetings, all in money. The prizes continued to rise in value; at Leipzig, in 1550, for the cross-bow 300 gulden; at the great shooting meeting at Strasburg, in 1576, the first prize for rifle and gun was 210 Imperial gulden; at Basle, in 1603, for muskets (with rifled barrels), a goblet worth 300 gulden. This sum, according to the value of silver and corn, answers to 666 thalers of our money.

The chief prizes then, were money or plate, goblets and vases of all forms and sizes, of that elegance and taste which distinguished the work of the goldsmith in the sixteenth century. The deposits also were frequently paid in special coins and medals, which were coined for the festival, large and small, and also gilt,--often klippen.[65] Sometimes a bull's-eye shot was rewarded by a klippe, which was hung to the victorious banner. At the costly cross-bow meeting at Dresden, for each bull's-eye shot was given on the banner a gilt medal, weighing five Imperial thalers--almost exactly a quarter of a pound of our customs weight. Smaller towns also coined medals and klippen; they continue as choice rarities in our collections of coins, and show the greatest diversity of emblems and devices, of size, form, and value. Small silver pieces were coined for children and the poor, and distributed in remembrance of the festivals.

But besides these good prizes, there were also tantalising prizes. The last shot who could make any pretence to a prize was honoured with a doubtful distinction,--he received, according to old custom, as has been already mentioned, amidst many derisive congratulations from the pritschmeisters the smallest money prize, and an animal of the pig tribe, great or small, sow or sucking-pig, according to the humour of the giver of the feast; besides that, a good prize banner, but with satirical figures on it. At the Coburg shooting, in the year 1614, it is reported that this banner was particularly and beautifully embroidered, but one may assume that its emblems did not occasion any great pleasure to the possessor. The banners and presents to the worst shots were a caricature of the prizes for the bull's-eye; and he who had made the worst shot of all was obliged, at least at the last period of the prize-shootings, to carry at the end of the festival, surrounded by the fools, a gigantic coarse banner of sackcloth. When the bolts of the bull's-eye shots and of the most distant shots were placed after the first course in their attrape, the pritschmeister went up to his pulpit; he then called forth with a loud voice the best shooter of the first course, and greeted him with a short extempore speech in doggerel rhyme, wherein he extolled his deserts and his prizes; he then announced to him that, as a memento of the shooting, he will receive a beautiful silk banner, to which was appended a silver klippe; besides this, a tin plate with a fried trout on it, a roll of bread, and a glass of wine, together with an orange. Skilful musicians, trumpeters or pipers, went before, and conducted him to his seat. Thus did the fortunate marksman march amidst music; the officials of the city delivered to him the banner and the coins, with the jovial plate of honour. Afterwards the pritschmeister distributed to the other circle shots, and finally he called to the unfortunate who had made the widest shot; he did not advance willingly; the pritschmeister bowed himself before him and said, "Look to it, you fine shot, that you learn your art better. I have here some lads who will teach you how to hit. You need pay them no money. Franz Floh, take the brush and sprinkle him with holy water; it is very possible that he is bewitched. Come, Hans Hahn, and ring your wooden bells about his ears! Yet I observe that you are a good Christian; you wish to leave something to others; therefore, dear tantalisers, take him under your protection; the man has deserved well of others; pipe a beautiful dance before him, and bite your thumbs at him, but be decorous, and do it behind his back. Bring him his gift of honour. First, a banner of the kind of satin in which peasants bring their oats to the city. The klippe which hangs on it is unfortunately only of tin; besides, there is a plate of wood, and on it a fine whey cheese; instead of the orange an apple, and in an earthen bowl a drink of light beer." Thus did the pritschmeister deride him, and at last presented him with a fool's cap and cock's feathers. Meanwhile the pritschmeister's boys yelled, rattled, and piped around the marksman, cut summersaults, and followed him with their grimaces up to his stand, whilst a bagpipe-player preceded him, and forced from his bags their most dissonant tones. It was afterwards seriously maintained by the marksmen that in this buffoonery those with the highest pretensions did not come off better than the rest. But to the person concerned it was very painful. He seldom succeeded in concealing beforehand the widest bolt, which always excited general displeasure. To princes who were present some consideration was shown: at least, the words of the pritschmeister to them, which are printed, sound very mild. If the sovereign himself had made the widest shot, one of his suite took it upon himself, as at Zwickau in 1573.

Thus was the festival carried on, round after round, each succeeded by the rewards. These interludes took not a little time; thus it happened that not more than seven or eight courses of shots took place in a day, still less at the great meetings.

At the end of the festival, in most of the districts in Germany, the shooting was interrupted by a pleasing custom which shall here be described as it took place, in the second half of the sixteenth century, in the cities of Suabia, Franconia, Thuringia, and Meissen. Many of the most distinguished maidens of the city went in procession, festively clad, accompanied by councillors, city pipers, and yeomen of the guard, to the shooting-ground. One of them carried, in an ornamental box, a costly garland--sometimes of silver and gold, with pearls and precious stones--another bore a beautiful banner. Their procession stopped on the ground; then the shooters of a friendly city were summoned, a herald of the city delivered an address, the maidens handed over to them, as a gift of honour from their city, the garland and banner, and invited them to a dance of honour. The invited thanked them in choice language in the name of their city; one of them placed the garland on his head, and they led the maidens in a stately dance over the shooting-ground. Such a garland imposed upon the city which received it the agreeable duty of giving the next prize-shooting. It was carefully kept, and mentioned in the programme of the garlanded city as the principal ground of the prize-shooting, in order that the garland might not wither. Afterwards, when the princes participated eagerly in the shooting, they also received garlands; if the prince was the giver of the feast, he bestowed the garland on one of the princesses. This old custom bound together the cities of a district in one great festive brotherhood. The dances on the open shooting-ground ceased about the year 1600.

But these great citizen festivals offered other opportunities of display of strength and art. When they were in their full vigour in the fifteenth century, there were public games arranged for the marksmen, and prizes appointed for the conquerors. In these games ancient traditions were maintained. They were prize contentions similar to that in the Niebelung, of Siegfried against Brunhild, hurling the stone, leaping, and running. They were in the programme in the prize-shooting of 1456; the Zuricher, Hans Waldmann, carried off the prize for leaping, who, later as Burgomaster, lost his proud head on the block. At the cross-bow shooting at Augsburg in 1470, a golden ring was prepared for him who could hurl furthest a stone of forty-five pounds weight, at an easy run, with three throws, according to the laws of the game; a knight, Wilhelm Zaunried, won the prize. Thus also at Zurich, in 1472, there were three prizes for hurling stones of fifteen, thirty, and fifty pounds. Christoph, Duke of Bavaria, won the golden ring at Augsburg in 1470, for leaping. The task was three springs on one leg with a run, afterwards a jump with both feet, then again three springs on the other leg, and a second jump. In Zurich, in 1472, leaps of three different kinds were prescribed: from the spot with both feet, in the run with both feet, and in a run three springs on one foot. All this was done with great earnestness, and was actually notified to the guests in the programme of the council. In prize races in 1470, at Augsburg, the course measured 350 paces; Duke Christoph, of Bavaria, won the gold ring also for running. At Zurich, in 1472, the length of the course was 600 paces. At Breslau, in 1518, the prizes for running were articles of the favourite pewter. Besides the men, sometimes horses ran: as at the rifle-shooting at Augsburg, in 1446, fourteen horses appeared in the lists; the prize was a piece of scarlet cloth; the conqueror was a horse of Duke Albrecht's, which he had sent from Munich for the races.[66] At the races at the same place, in 1470, a horse of Duke Wolfgang's, of Bavaria, won a prize of forty-five gulden. Wrestling, and even dancing, obtained prizes, as in 1508 again, at Augsburg. And at the same place a whimsical prize was won by the person who could amuse the people with the greatest lies.

To these national popular amusements were added others not less old, but from the traditions of foreign life. The descendants of the Roman gladiators, whose rough struggles had once caused great scandal to strict Christians, led a despised life as roving fighters[67] through the whole of the Middle Ages. In the fifteenth century they had taken refuge behind the city gates and in the guardrooms of the royal court, in various mercenary service, as fencing-masters, soldiers, police, valets, and messengers. Out of the secret brotherhoods which were formed by these strolling fighters had arisen associations which were openly tolerated; they were arranged in two societies, as Marxbrüder (the fraternity of St. Mark), and Federfechter (champions of the feather), which cherished a violent antipathy to each other. The Federfechter displayed a winged griffin on their armorial shield; they boasted of having received privileges from a Duke of Mecklenburg, and found later a mild patron in the Elector of Saxony. At the lists, when they raised their swords, they called out, "Soar aloft, feather; mark what we do; write with ink which looks like blood."[68] The Marxbrüders, on the other hand, had for their armorial bearings a lion, and cheered themselves by the defiant rhyme, "Thou noble lion, elevate thy curly hair; thou perceivest the griffin; him shalt thou hew down and tear his feathers." They were privileged by King Maximilian in 1487. These masters of the long sword were under a captain, and their meetings were held at the harvest fair of Frankfort-on-the-Maine. Thither resorted any one who wished to receive the freedom of their company; he had to fence with four masters, then in public meeting to accept a challenge from any one who chose to fight with him. If he stood the trial, he was struck with the sword of ceremony crosswise over the loins; he then took the oath of fellowship, and laid two golden guldens on the sword; then he received the secret sign of recognition of the brotherhood, and the right to instruct others in his art, and to hold fencing schools, that is to say, to arrange public fights. For a long time these public fights were a pleasure to princes and citizens; after the battle of Mühlberg, they enlivened the imprisoned Elector of Saxony during the great Imperial Diet at Augsburg. It was considered by the people an especial privilege for Frankfort, that it was the only town in which one could become a prize-fighter.[69] The fighters made their way into the prize-shootings--already at Augsburg in 1508--especially when princes took a part in the civic pleasures. The procession, and many of the usages of the fighters, remind one strongly of the Roman gladiatorial games, though the combats seldom came to so bloody an end. The princes and cities hired whole bands of fighters, who attended at the prize-shootings and other great festivals. Thus at Stuttgardt, in 1560, the fighters strove in pairs on the shooting-ground; the royal ladies also drove out to see this combat; the first victor received a beautiful waistcoat of taffety; every other prize consisted of two thalers. At a cross-bow meeting at Zwickau, 1573, the Margrave of Anspach introduced a fighting band of forty men, against whom the Elector August of Saxony arranged his Federfechters. They contended for two days, in pairs, with the long sword, the wooden sword, the long spear, and the short lance, bareheaded, according to old custom, and some made many passes without conquering the other. There was much bravado in these combats, but they gave rise to great jealousy, violent blows, and bad wounds.

The society of fencers outlived the prize-shootings and the great war. They lost the old expressions for their art, but substituted French words, and maintained their position in the larger cities in spite of the foreign fencing-masters. In Nüremberg their public combats were forbidden shortly before 1700; but parties long ran high among the people for the two factions: there was no boy in the city who did not contend for the Marxbrüder or Federfechter, who frequently gave their performances in private houses. The last great fencing match took place, in 1741, at Breslau, in the churchyard of Magdalena. On the day when the young King of Prussia, with careless mien and dishevelled hair, and his small parade sword, came to receive the homage of the conquered Silesia on the throne of the Emperor Matthias, when the dawn of a new time broke over Germany, the old fencers, like shadowy figures of a distant time, performed once more their antics over the graves of a past generation, and then passed away.

Other popular amusements intruded themselves into the prize-shootings; the pleasures became more noisy, more abundant, and excited; and whoever takes a view of the shooting-ground at the end of the sixteenth century will see, from the proceedings of spectators, that times had altered. Formerly the marksmen, among them princes and nobles, had taken part in the public gymnastics; the Wittelsbacher had hopped on one leg among the citizens of the imperial town, and had hurled the heavy stone. At the end of the sixteenth century the nobles looked on, so also did the already genteel citizen-marksmen; but the peasant lads came in their Sunday attire, with their lasses, and performed their country dance for the amusement of others. There was great pleasure in seeing the peasant maidens compete in running for a camisol or a stomacher; high springs, fluttering dresses, and sometimes a tumble in their haste, excited especial satisfaction, and their village demeanour contributed to increase the enjoyment of others. It was more particularly the princes who took pleasure in all this; there seldom failed to be grotesque processions and dances of the country people, when a prince made the programme of the festival. The pert waggery of the pritschmeister to the country people excited a laughter on the shooting-ground which would be offensive to us. The dancers, in couples, garlanded with the red berries of the mountain ash, or with carrots, advanced on the ground; men threw themselves on unsaddled horses, and galloped past a goose which was hung above them, and the joke was, that they slid off their nags, and the like.

The amusement of the children, also, was provided for. There was a jesting fool, who, armed with a shield and short leather club, challenged any one to assail him with a lance. If the challenge was accepted, the fool knew so well how to parry the lance, throw his opponent on his back, and belabour him with his club, that the laugh was always on his side. Beside him stood (as at Ratisbon, in 1586) a wild man, who threw balls into his open mouth, nine balls for a kreuzer. A little mannikin was set on a pony: they threw at him with a ball, and whoever hit oftenest won something. Spirited boys climbed up a smooth pole to fetch a cock out of the basket which was hung at the top.

The shooting-ground was fenced in by barriers or ropes, but alongside it stood the tents and booths, where goldsmiths laid out their goblets, vases, spoons, and chains. The pewter-booths were great favourites, before which they gambled for household utensils, throwing dice in the brente, which was painted red and white, similar to our backgammon board; anxious faces thronged round the gambling-booths; vagrants and vagabonds staked more on the game than their last stolen penny; but they were not unobserved, for the city police in their festal attire paced gravely along these booths to see that no offence was committed to disturb the peace of the shooting-ground. Special attention was paid by the giver of the feast to the bowling-ground, which was then not so frequently found in town or country, as now. There were often two, indeed three, prepared for the festival; here, also, there were prizes affixed. Thus, at Breslau, 1518, an ox and pewter utensils were bowled for, on two grounds. In Silesia, Saxony, and Thuringia, they were favourite additions to the festival.

But of all that made the festival agreeable to the people, and attained to the greatest development, was an entertainment of a most doubtful character,--the fortune's urn, the modest ancestor of the state and other lotteries. As early as 1467 it made its appearance at the cross-bow meeting at Munich. In 1470, at the great prize-shooting at Augsburg, it was a well-known part of the programme; the prizes were goblets, materials for dress, velvet girdles, and weapons; there were twenty-two prizes, and more than 76,000 tickets, at eight pfennigs each; a cook won the best prize, which was an agreeable evidence to the people that it had been carried on honourably. By means of the rifle-shooting at Zurich, in 1472, the urn was introduced into Switzerland; the tickets there cost one shilling each. The drawing was much the same as now. There was scaffolding erected in the public place, before the council-house, and thereon a booth, in which the prizes were placed; beside it, the secretaries and the urns. There were two urns, into one of which the names of those were thrown who had drawn a ticket, in the other were the prizes and blanks; a boy of sixteen, who was placed between the urns, drew from both at the same time. First, the name was called out, then the prize or blank. The first ticket and the last in the urn with the names, won something; at Zurich, a ram; those who took many tickets got them cheaper. In 1504, at Zurich, the prizes were already in money; but in Germany the pleasant custom still continued at the prize-shootings for another century, of playing for artistic objects of value; the love of gambling was great, the women especially thronged round the urn; and, if one may judge from the lists of prizes that have been preserved, the inferior clergy of the old church amused themselves with fortune's um. Seldom, in the sixteenth century, did the urn fail to appear at the greater prize-shootings; it was an important concern, and the chroniclers recorded assiduously the prizes and fortunate winners. Thus, only to mention one year, there were, in Central Germany alone, in 1540, two urns of fortune; for there were prize-shootings at Frankenhausen and Hof; at the latter the drawing lasted five days; in both cities the last prize from the urn was the jocose prize--a sow, which had been introduced from the shooting-ground into the urn of fortune. In 1575, at Strasburg, the urn of fortune was very considerable; there were 275 prizes--the first, value 115 gulden; the sale of the tickets was so rapid that they were obliged to increase the number and the prizes in equal proportion. Count Palatine Casimir, an enterprising prince, had bought 1100 tickets, but did not gain much. The Zuricher guests also, with their pot of porridge, took some thousand tickets--in the name of the fortunate ship and of their native city--which, together, cost 101 gulden; for this they won silver to about half the amount. The drawing lasted fourteen days, and the throng of people about the urn was so troublesome that at last they were obliged to use force to secure the urn.

From these beginnings arose the lottery in Italy and Holland, in the sixteenth century; first, they played for wares, but soon for money, and it was used as a source of income by individuals, and then by communities. The first money lottery at Hamburg was established in 1615.

Such was the course of the great feasts of arms of our ancestors. For weeks did the multitude buzz about the shooting-ground and booths, and in the streets of the hospitable city. When the society of marksmen had finished the prescribed number of shots, all those to whom an equal number of circle shots had been scored had to shoot for their prize at a special target, and he who made the worst shot had the smallest prize. In the same way all shot for the knightly prize who had carried away no prize from the great shooting. The chief and the knightly prizes were solemnly delivered with the banner; the money prizes were in coloured silk purses, which hung to the banner; prizes and banners were arranged beforehand in long rows for show, for in the olden days they knew well how to make a grand display of such distinctions. Then followed generally an after shooting for the voluntary deposits of the shooters, more simple and unrestrained, and sometimes at other distances. Last, on the shooting-ground, came the great farewell oration of thanks from the giver of the feast, expressing once more to the guests the pleasure it had given to the city. Finally, there was the great march from the shooting-ground to the city. This was an important ceremony. All the splendour of the festival was again displayed in the long procession. Trumpets and pipes were blown, the big drum and the kettle-drums thundered, the pritschmeisters clattered with their bats; the dignitaries of the festival, councillors, and neuners, marched in front with their long silk scarfs; behind them the fortunate winners of the great prizes, each with his prize borne before him, and accompanied by two men of distinction. The other shooters followed under the banner of their "quarter," and proudly did each carry his prize banner; but the mocking banners also were sometimes to be seen in the procession, and humbly were they carried by their bearers; behind them came the young tomfools. Our ancestors were right when they moved with a feeling of elation in such processions. The dress was already rich in colour; men of even moderate income endeavoured to wear rich materials, silk and velvet, on such occasions. All were accustomed to show themselves before others, and knew well how to maintain a stately pace. With a feather on the cap or hat, the weapon by the side, and one arm supported on the hip under the mantle, they strode along in march time, placing their feet wide apart, as is the custom now, thus moving the body in an easy way, now towards the right, now the left.

Thus they went to the last evening entertainment; those who were departing had often the escort of their friends, for protection and honour, far into the country.

There is something very attractive to our feelings in this hospitality given to the shooters. Not only were they frequently provided with drink on the shooting-ground during the shooting-hours, and refreshed by a collation, but they were at least once, and generally oftener, entertained in the city, sometimes daily, by the councillors; besides this, there were evening dances, in which the daughters of the most distinguished families partook. These hospitalities to the guests, in the fifteenth century, though very hearty, were also very simple; but at a later period they became sometimes profuse, and when such a festival lasted a fortnight, or, as at Strasburg, as much as five weeks, they must have been very expensive to the givers of the feast; more than once did critical chroniclers complain of the immoderate demands on their city coffers. Loud reproaches were made even at Strasburg, and it was reported of the Löwenbergers, after their bird-shooting in 1615, that the city had exerted itself far beyond its powers; for all had been very costly and splendid. In the fifteenth century, they knew better how to calculate. The great cross-bow shooting at Augsburg, in 1470, cost the city more than 2200 gulden, a high sum according to the then value of corn; and yet the influx of strangers was so great that the Augsburgers afterwards said they had suffered no loss. But, indeed, the entertainment of the 466 stranger guests was very simple.

The number of marksmen at the earlier cross-bow shootings was not large. At Augsburg, in 1425, there were only 130; in 1434, 300; and in 1470, 466. After fire-arms had been introduced, at the great country meetings, the number of marksmen was double. Thus, in 1485, at St. Gallen, there were collected 208 cross-bows and 445 guns; and in 1508, at Augsburg, there were 544 cross-bows and 919 guns. According to the old arrangements of the shooting, this large number of men protracted the festival to a great length; consequently, in the sixteenth century, we find efforts sometimes made to limit the number of invitations, but to increase the deposits of the shooters; and it appears that a festival, with from 200 to 300 shooting-guests, was considered most agreeable; in that case it lasted a week; the individual became of more importance, and the body of men was easier to guide. Even with a moderate number of marksmen, the concourse of strangers was incomparably greater than it would be now. Each marksman was accompanied by a lad, who waited upon him with cross-bow or gun; if princes or nobles were invited, they arrived with a large retinue of junkers, servants, halberdiers, and horses; a large rabble of beggars and rogues also flocked together, and the watchmen of the city had to guard against theft, robbery, and fire.

It was not always easy for the givers of the feast to keep order between the inhabitants and the strangers, for, together with a natural heartiness and wish to adapt themselves to their guests, there was in many haughty minds a very sensitive pride of home and self-confidence, which inclined them, more than would be the case now, to turn into ridicule the unusual dress, manners, and language of strangers. Betwixt certain districts there always floated, like small thunder-clouds, certain old satirical sayings and ironical stories. Swiss and Suabians, Thuringians and Franconians, Hessians and Rhinelanders, reported laughable things of each other. But a word spoken when drinking, or a mocking reminder, might disturb the peace of the festival, or excite parties to sudden anger; and words of conciliation and redoubled friendliness were not always successful. Thus the "Seehasen"[70] and the "Kühmelker" had a severe quarrel at the cross-bow shooting at Constance in 1458. A man from Constance, who was playing at dice with one from Lucerne, called the Bernese coin plappart, which he had won, a cow-plappart; the Lucerner fired up, blows and uproar followed. The Lucerne marksmen remained to the end of the festival; but they complained loudly that the laws of hospitality were broken, and their honour wounded. After their return home the people of Lucerne and Unterwalden raised the war-banner and fell on the territory of Constance, the inhabitants of which had to pay 5000 gulden as an expiation. Yet, in general, it was provided that such disturbances should be reconciled on the spot, or satisfaction given to the guests. Strictly were the shooting regulations administered by the chosen judges, and zealously did hosts and guests endeavour to enhance the feeling of duty in those belonging to them. Among the numerous specimens of city hospitality of that time the most pleasing is the kindly connection which existed for more than 100 years betwixt Zurich and Strasburg, frequently interrupted by many passionate ebullitions, but always renewed. In 1456, six years after the Swiss had established the first great shooting-feast at Sursee, in the country of Lucerne, some young Swiss, in the early dawn of morning, conveyed a large pot of hot millet porridge, in a vessel, from Zurich to Strasburg; they arrived in the evening; threw the famed Zurich rolls among the people, and delivered the still warm millet porridge to the council of the friendly city, as a token of how quickly their Swiss friends would come to their aid if they ever needed it in earnest; they danced the same night with the Strasburg maidens. After that, the excitement and sufferings of the Reformation knit new spiritual ties betwixt Zurich and the great imperial city. Bucer and the Swiss reformers, the literati and artists of both cities, had been in close alliance; though differences of confession had for a short time produced alienation. The Strasburgers had often experienced the hospitality of the Swiss. Now when, 150 years after the first journey of the porridge-pot, the city of Strasbourg had again announced a brilliant prize-shooting for crossbow and gun, and a strong detachment from Zurich had celebrated with them the first fortnight of the cross-bow shooting, then a number of young Zurichers, under the lead of some gentlemen of the council, determined to repeat the old voyage. Again, like their ancestors, they placed the great metal pot, weighing 120 pounds, filled with hot porridge, in the ship, and voyaged in the early dawn of morning, all dressed alike in rose and black, from the Limmat into the Aar, from the Aar into the Rhine, with trumpeters and drummers. The places by which the ship flew, in the sunny mid-day, greeted the jolly fellows with acclamations; in the evening they reached Strasburg, having been long before announced from the towers. The citizens thronged to meet them; delegates from the council greeted them; they carried the pot on shore and delivered it to the councillors; they scattered amongst the children of Strasbourg 300 strings of Zurich rolls, and again were the manly words spoken: "Quickly as we have come to-day in sport, we will come to help in earnest." And at the abundant supper the old homely dish, still warm, was enjoyed with pleasure. The Strasburger Fischart has described with hearty satisfaction the journey of the porridge-pot, and we find in his verses the warmth which then animated both hosts and guests. The course of the voyage of the porridge-pot, and even the sums which the Swiss deposited in the urn of fortune--"In the name of the fortunate ship and of the parent town"--were paid by the city of Zurich. In return they received the small silver utensils which were won in the urn by the Zurichers. The collective costs of the journey which Zurich then paid for its marksmen amounted to 1500 gulden.

It is of great interest to consider these brotherly festivals of the city communities, according to districts. In the middle of the sixteenth century, a journey from Nuremburg to Augsburg was neither so easy nor free from danger, as now from Leipsig to Zurich. The birds of prey of the country gladly flew from their castellated eyries into the woods which surrounded, in wide circles, the hospitable city; more than once was the fortunate marksman waylaid and robbed, by noble horsemen, of the beautiful purse with the guldens he had won, and his banner broken. Even to greater companies the road was insecure, and the travelling toilsome; the inns at small places were frequently very bad, without meat or drink. It is easily understood that at the largest prize-shooting, to which every unexceptional man was welcome, persons from a distance only took a part when accident had brought them into the neighbourhood. Therefore it is matter of surprise that the district to which cities sent their invitations was so large. The Wittenburghers were welcome guests at Ratisbon and the men of Stuttgart at Meissen. Sometimes accident or the friendship of distinguished citizens, knit these bonds of hospitality betwixt far-distant cities; then the invitations went forty, fifty, or one hundred miles. But, on the whole, we may divide these hospitable cities into groups. The Swiss, Suabians, and Bavarians were in close union. Augsburg, more than Nuremberg, was long the centre and pattern of these groups. To it belonged the Rhine as far as Strasbourg. The greatest and most splendid prize-shootings were for two centuries celebrated in this part of Germany. In Bavaria, about 1400, all the more powerful places were in firm intercommunion. There, the city whose marksmen, at one shooting, had won the first prize, was bound at the next shooting festival to produce the same first prize. Thus Kehlheim, which had won the ram at Munich, invited the Munichers, in 1404, to contend for it again.[71] But smaller festivals also comprehended a wide circle. At Ratisbon, for example, the Bavarians and Suabians shot with the larger cities of Thuringia and Meissen; also with Lindau, Salzburg, and some places in Bohemia. The Tyrolese and Salzburghers collected more especially at small shooting meetings of their districts; so also the Franconians north of the Maine. A lasting union of middle-sized and smaller places existed there. This Franconian union comprehended in the sixteenth century, together with Würzburg and Schweinfurt, forty-one cities and forty-two villages with free peasants, particularly from the bishopric of Würzburg and the royal county of Henneberg.

The chief prize was a neck chain--"The Jewel of the Country"--which the victor wore round his neck for a year, and which imposed upon the victorious place the duty of giving the next shooting meeting. If the community of the union who had to give the feast was small and poor, the meeting was badly attended. Thus at Neustadt, on Saale, in 1568, only delegates from eighteen cities and three villages appeared. The small participation of the village communities, at this period, is a proof that their strength was diminished in comparison with the former period. Another group comprehended the possessions of the House of Saxony; the Thuringians and many Franconians and Meisseners who sent the garland to one another. These also zealously maintained the cross-bow at their prize-shootings; the popinjay was seldom erected, except at smaller meetings, where it was long upheld. At these festivals the Franconians, up to and beyond Nuremberg, were regular guests; some of the Suabians and more of the German Bohemians. But, on the frontiers of this group, at Halle, another association began, the centre of which was Magdeburg; here the popinjay was more frequent. Thus at the great prize-shooting at Halle, in 1601, the expression "shooting court" appears, and many special usages. This circle embraced the Harz cities up to Brunswick, and the Altmark, and reaches further to the east and north, for the people of Halle sent their invitations as far as Berlin, Brandenburg, and even Griefswald. Again, the cities of the great province of Silesia were in close union, with Breslau for their centre point; there the popinjay shooting attained to its highest development, and the festivals were very frequent. Competition was not unfrequent between two cities; thus, in 1504, between Liegnitz and Neisse, when the Breslauers said, in answer to the invitation of Neisse, that they had already accepted the invitation of Liegnitz, and therefore could not go. The chief places of meeting of the cities of middle Rhine were Cologne and Aix-la-Chapelle; but the great prize-shootings of this country, which flourished at the end of the fifteenth century, were embittered by religious discord. It is remarkable that in the countries of Lower Saxony, on the North Sea and Baltic, where the old Hanse towns had founded such noble city unions, the prize-shootings were less frequent and distinguished. The most zealous supporters of them were the Swiss, Suabians, Thuringians, Meisseners, and Silesians. With the Swiss these great festivals attained the character of exercises of arms; they were practical and serious; the waggish humour and the tricks of the pritschmeister flourished in Middle Germany.[72] It is not accidental that in the whole of the Protestant portion of the German empire, the power and comfort of the citizen have been most nobly developed.

If these particulars give only a very imperfect picture of the splendour, the opulence, and the independence which were developed in these festivals by the German cities in ancient times, yet they will succeed in making the reader feel, that though we have gained much in comparison with those times, we have also lost something. Only very lately it would have appeared hazardous to the greatest city communities to arrange festivals which, according to our rate of money, would cost perhaps more than fifty thousand thalers; not to do honour to the visit of some sovereign, but for the pleasure of German fellow-citizens, and which would last three or even five weeks, and commit many hundreds, or even thousands of guests during this period to the friendly hospitality, partly of individuals and partly of the city community. It is true that time has become more valuable to us, life is enjoyed more rapidly, and we compress into days what would have employed our ancestors for weeks. It is true that modern men seek recreation in summer in ways which were almost unknown three centuries ago. They isolate themselves from the bustle and hard daily labour of the world among mountain woods and alpine valleys; whilst our ancestors, on the contrary, sought pleasure and refreshment in large societies of men, and left the narrow boundaries of their walls,--the guild room and the council hall,--for those great re-unions in which they could gain honour and prizes by their own exertions. But it must not be forgotten that it was just in those last two centuries in which the great civic festivals became impossible, that many general interests were developed in German citizen life, which, however unsatisfactory they may be, form an immeasurable step in advance of the olden time. There is also a fundamental difference in culture which distinguishes us from our ancestors; but this difference does not rest on the necessary progress of a later race. We feel that the old brotherhood of cities and districts had something noble in it, in which our life is very deficient. The joyful self-assertion of man in social intercourse with others, the facility with which common usages unite together hundreds and indeed thousands, and, above all, the imposing vigour with which cities asserted their position, all this has been too long wanting to us. If it was seldom granted to our forefathers to feel, on the great occasions of life, the unity of German interests in Church and State, and through a common action and great triumph to ennoble the life of every individual, yet they knew at least how to open, by their fellowship, a domain in which expression was given to the German nature, to human relations and to community of spirit.

It is only within a few years that it has become a necessity to Germans to expand their life in this direction. It was no mere accident that made German men of science, in their wandering meetings, the first to give significant expression to some of the noblest interests of the nation by national association. They were followed by the singers and others, then the gymnasts, finally the shooters. We are now, after more than two centuries of preparation, again treading in the same path in which our ancestors so grandly trod, but with a freer and nobler feeling. It has been a long-denied pleasure for us thus to be able to vaunt ourselves. But we should at the same time be mindful, and it is the object of these pages to remind us, that the citizen-class of Germany has striven, for more than two centuries since the Thirty Years' War, to become again as powerful and manly in this respect as their ancestors were.

But even of that time of weakness, the century that followed the great war, a picture shall be given. But it must be short. The hospitable prize-shootings of the cities had ceased; here and there a ruler gave a family festival, or, as a special act of grace, a large country shooting meeting, at which prizes were awarded, and their subjects allowed to participate. In the cities the old shooting associations still existed, though in many cases robbed of their prize cups, chains, and jewels; even the cautious Leipzigers had not preserved the silver statue of their holy Sebastian. Many old customs were maintained in their desolate shooting houses; the cross-bow, at the popinjay and target, had dragged on a miserable existence; it lasts in a few cities as a curiosity up to the present day; the rifled weapon became naturalised; in larger communities the new Imperial nobility favoured shooting guilds and their old "Königsschiessen,"[73] and these festivals acquired a stiff pretentious character of pedantic state action. This great change in the city festival,--the only meagre feast of arms which remained to the German citizen in the eighteenth century,--is apparent in a description of the Breslau shooting in the year 1738. It is found where one would hardly look for it, in the laborious work of the physician Johann Christian Kundmann, entitled "Beruhmte Schlesier in Müntzen," 1738, i., p. 128, and is given as follows, literally, with few omissions:--

"At this time the following solemnities were observed at the 'Königsschiessen.' On Whitsunday the king of the preceding year went with the elders, the Zwinger brotherhood, also with some invited friends, in some twenty carriages, out to the Zwinger.[74] By the side of the carriage went the secretaries as servants, two outriders, the markers, and the king's own servant; they were received with kettle-drums and trumpets. After that, the perquisites of the king were read aloud to the shooters in the room, and those who wished to shoot for the kingdom were to sign their names with their own hand. Then appeared two gentlemen, commissaries of the worshipful and illustrious council, who are usually the two youngest councillors of the nobility; they wore Spanish mantles, trimmed with lace or fringe, and placed themselves opposite to the king in the room,--who stayed there in his kingly attire, bearing the great golden bird. The councillors state that they, as commissioners, have to be present at this shooting. After this the king goes to the shooting ground, accompanied by the commissioners, the elders, and shooters.

"As, according to old usages, a popinjay was to be the mark, a large carved bird with outspread wings was set up, instead of a target, and at this there were six courses, that is, each shooter fired six times. A small silver bird, or a large klippe, was attached to the king as a badge of honour, instead of the large gilt bird, which was too heavy and incommodious to carry. He kept the badge till one of the others had made the winning shot with a bullet. The king shoots always first, amidst the sounding of kettle-drums and trumpets. After these shots the new king is presented to the commissaries, by the zwinger-orator,--usually an advocate, with a well composed speech,--and the usual presents are presented to the king. The first gentleman of the council answers with a similar speech. After that they go to the zwinger repast, and when they rise from table the king is accompanied with kettle-drums and trumpets home. Or the king and the brotherhood march with music and wine round the city, and do honour thereby to their patrons and good friends. The Wednesday after, the king gives his usual silver shooting, at which there are six prizes of silver, that consist of cups and spoons. After the completion of this, the king gives his first entertainment.

"The Saturday following, early in the morning, about eight o'clock, the king is conducted, with his retinue, in his costly attire, before the illustrious and worshipful council in the council room, where the zwinger-orator again delivers an oration, and begs for the king all the immunities; the president answers with a similar speech, confirms him in his kingdom, conveys to him the regal dues, and concludes with congratulations. Then the day for the king's benefit is solicited, generally some Monday a few weeks later. This is a pleasure shooting of twelve courses. He who makes the best shot, and he who with gun and dice (the equally bad shots cast lots by dice), fails most, must both place themselves in front of the shooting-house. To the first a large orange will be delivered on a pewter plate, together with a glass of wine and a garland of roses, and some verses will be recited in his praise, when the kettle-drums and trumpets will sound. But he who has failed gets a whey cheese in a wreath of nettles on a wooden plate, together with a glass of beer, upon which the bagpipes and a small fiddle are played; the verses are generally very pungent, and the zwinger poets are frequently wont to recite truths in jest to their dear friends. Besides this, for each shot on the outer circle of the target in all the courses, a citron is given, and in like manner to every one who hits, a citron, an orange, or a curd cheese, which are painted on the target, together with other pictures characteristic of the time. Then they go to another meal, when the zwinger-orator and the first deputy of the council deliver speeches, and distribute the banners and prizes to the best shots and the victors in the twelve courses, with the sounding of kettle-drums and trumpets. Then the king gives a costly repast, which often lasts nearly till daybreak. Over the king hangs the great king's bird: he himself sits in a large arm chair. From thence the king is accompanied to the patrons and then home, and this solemnity generally finishes with some merriment. Finally, the king gives, the following day, a sausage shooting, and appoints a prize of silver and gold; this is again concluded by an entertainment, followed by dice playing for pewter."

Here ends the account of Kundmann. Of how little importance was such a "Königsschiessen" of the seventeenth century may be gathered from the description. The popular festival of the olden time had become a pretentious solemnity. To do everything in a genteel way was the great desire; only the wealthy could become kings; to drive in carriages, to be accompanied by servants, to give costly meals and expensive prizes, were the main objects; the shooting was a minor point: and it was very significant that the king was no longer expected to speak publicly before his fellow-citizens; he represented in dumb show; the advocate spoke for the citizen at the festival also. Lastly, it may be perceived that the remnants of some of the old jovial customs had still been retained; they stand out in contrast to the prudery and susceptibility of the time; the improvisation of the pritschmeister had ceased, and even the ironical verses on bad shots had to be prepared; gradually the reminiscences of a more vigorous time were laid aside as obsolete and absurd.

It was not, however, the wretchedness of the people alone,--the bitter fruit of the war,--that destroyed the great brotherly feasts of the citizen, nor yet the ruling tendency to haughty exclusiveness against all who held a modest position in life, but equally injurious was the peculiar stamp impressed upon even the best and most highly cultivated, after that period of humiliation.

It is time now to observe the great change in the German popular mind, which turned the martial citizen, who knew how to use powder and shot and to direct a gun, into the shy, timid gentleman, who hastened his steps when he heard near him the thump of the butt end of a musket, and feared lest his son should grow too tall, and come into the horrible position of having to shoulder a weapon in rank and file.

This change was effected by the new polity of the princes.

CHAPTER IV.

STATE POLICY AND THE INDIVIDUAL.

(1600-1700.)

The last stage of the process of dissolution which the holy Roman empire passed through occupies the hundred and fifty years from Oxenstern to Napoleon. The mortal disease began in 1520, when Charles V., the Burgundian Hapsburger, was crowned Emperor of Germany; the death struggle itself did not begin till the election of Ferdinand II., the Jesuit protector, in 1620. The peal of bells that celebrated the Westphalian peace was a death-knell; what followed was the last slow destruction of an expiring organism. But it was also the beginning of a new organic formation. The rise of the Prussian state coincides precisely with the end of the Thirty Years' War.

Whether joy or sorrow ought to predominate in the consideration of such a period depends not only on the political point of view, but on the culture and character of those who form a judgment on it. To those who love to depict with poetic warmth the glories of a German empire, such as perhaps might have been, the advent and character of a time so poor in great men and in national pride can only be repugnant; whoever is in the unfortunate position of considering the interests of the Hapsburgers or those of the Order of Jesus as essentially German, will form an imaginary picture of the past, which will be as far removed from the reality, as the relique worship of the ancient church is from the free man's worship of God. But whoever investigates temperately and sensibly the connection of events, should be careful, in writing the history of this period, not to forget, in the hatefulness of appearances, to do justice to what was legitimate in the reality, and equally so, not for the sake of what, is good, to throw a veil over that which is odious. It is not purely accidental that it is only easy to one who is both a Protestant and a Prussian, to regard with conscious pride and a cheerful heart the historical development of the last two centuries.

Immediately after the peace of Münster and Osnabruck, two views of German politics confronted one another, the one which, in spite of the diminution of the Hapsburg influence and the decision of the Westphalian peace, still maintained the old traditions of Imperial supremacy, and the other that of the great territorial princes who sought to secure full freedom of action and independence for themselves, and who had, in fact, become sovereigns. The history of these opposing principles comprehends, in the main, the history of the political development of our fatherland up to the present day. Still do the two parties remain, but the aims and the means of agitation of both are changed, for above them has arisen a new formation, a third party. After 1648 it was the Imperial party who strongly proclaimed the unity of Germany; the political supremacy was claimed for the House of Hapsburg, and that was desired which is almost precisely what is at present termed the diplomatic and military lead Then weak public opinion, in which there was still a lively recollection of the old connection with the Empire, was for the most part, even among the Protestants, on its side, and the Imperial politicians endeavoured to enlist supporters through the press. If a few literary men, who stood up for German nationality in opposition to foreign influences, murmured at the weakness of the fatherland, the conclusion always presented itself to them, that the Emperor was pre-eminently entitled to revive the old supremacy of the Empire. At that time the strength of this party lay in the fact, that the only German state power of any magnitude was that of the House of Hapsburg, but their weakness consisted in this, that the policy of the Emperor was not in the main German, and that the bigotry and intrigues of the Vienna court did not inspire either the princes with fear, or the estates with confidence. On the other hand, the opposition party of princely politicians, looking to their own advantage, with very little consideration for the Empire, sought the isolation of individual states, the weakening of the connection of the Empire, the policy of the free hand and temporary alliances of the courts among themselves, instead of submitting to the power of the Diet; and their mutual union at the Diet, and in all diplomatic negotiations, tended to counteract the influence and policy of the Emperor. In the midst of this struggle betwixt two adverse principles, a new state arose in Germany, the princes of which, allying themselves sometimes with one party, sometimes with the other, endeavoured to make use of both, and collected round them a nation, which at the end of the eighteenth century appeared capable of a more vigorous development of German strength than the inheritance of the Hapsburgers. And so completely has the situation of Germany changed, that now the Imperial party acts with most of the German princes against the party of the new State. The old opponents have united in a struggle against the new party, both in the difficult position of having to uphold what is unsatisfactory, both under the fatal necessity of working against a long-cherished desire of the nation.

It was a desperate political situation which placed the centre of gravity of German power in the hands of individual German princes, and gave them the almost unlimited disposal of the property and lives of their subjects. The political weakness of Germany, the despotic sway and corruption of the rulers, the servility of the subjects, the immorality of the courts, and the dishonesty of officials, was the sad result, and has often been sufficiently pourtrayed. But with this time begins also the modern State life of Germany. The progress of a nation is not always understood and valued by contemporaries, the necessary changes are not always effected by great men; sometimes the good genius of a nation requires the bad, the insignificant, and the shortsighted, as instruments in a powerful reconstruction. Not in the French revolution alone has a new life proceeded from evil deeds: in Germany also, iron necessity, despotism, and contempt for old rights, have produced much that we now consider as the necessary groundwork of well-regulated State life.

The school of diplomats and statesmen who had been trained during the war in Germany, defended the interests of the German sovereigns up to the time of the French revolution. The endless peace negotiations brought together in Germany the most distinguished politicians of Europe. Pupils of Richelieu, able Netherlanders, countrymen of Macchiavelli, and the proud followers of Gustavus Adolphus. The struggle of antagonisms gave to a large number of talented Germans superabundant opportunities of forming themselves; for around the representatives of the great powers were more than a hundred political agents, writing and haranguing. From the passionate struggle which was brought to a conclusion at Münster and Osnabruck amid the constraint of ceremonials and with an appearance of cold tranquillity, from the chaotic confusion of numberless contending interests, and from the mountains of acts, controversial writings, replications, and projects of treaty, a generation of politicians was, after the peace, spread over the country, hard men, with stubborn will and indomitable perseverance, with gigantic power of work and acute judgment, learned jurists and versatile men of the world, with great knowledge of human nature, but at the same time sceptical despisers of all ideal feelings, unscrupulous in the choice of means, dextrous in making use of the weak point of an opponent, experienced in demanding and giving honour, and well inclined not to forget their own advantage. They became the leaders of politics at the courts and in the Imperial cities, quiet leaders or dextrous tools of their lords--in fact, the real rulers of Germany. They were the creators of the diplomacy and bureaucracy of Germany. Their method of negotiating may appear to us very prolix and pettifogging, but it is just in our time, when a superficial dilettanteism is to be complained of in diplomacy and State government, that the legal culture and sagacious dexterity of the old school should be looked back upon with respect. It was not the fault of these men that they were obliged to spend their lives in a hundred little quarrels, and that only few of them found themselves in the happy position of promoting a great and wise policy. But it will always be to their honour, that under unfavourable circumstances they more than once preserved the esteem and respect of the external enemies of Germany, for German diplomacy, where they no longer felt it for the power of German armies.

They regulated also the internal concerns of the devastated provinces of the new "State." According to their model was formed the official class, also the colleges of judges and administrators; often, it is true, more awkward and pedantic, but just as tenacious of rank, and not unfrequently as corruptible, as the chancellors and privy councillors on whom they depended. The new politicians carried on also important negotiations with the provincial Diets, and had no easy task to render them pliant or harmless. Ever since the end of the fifteenth century there existed, in almost all the larger territories of Germany, State representatives of the country, who voted the taxes, attaching conditions to such votes, and also giving their opinion on the application of the taxes; in the sixteenth century they had attained to increased importance, as they superintended a provincial bank, which assisted the Government in raising money. At the end of the great war, these provincial banks became the last and most important help, for they had strained their credit to the uttermost to provide a war contribution to rid the country of foreign armies. Thus after the peace they were most influential corporations, and the existence of the great portion of creditless sovereigns depended, in fact, upon them. Unfortunately the provincial States were ill fitted to be the true representatives of the country; they consisted for the most part of prelates, lords, and knights, all of them representatives of the nobility, who were, as regarded their own persons and property, exempt from taxes: under them were the deputies of the desolated and deeply involved cities. Thus they were not only inclined to lay the burden of these money grants upon the mass of the people, but it also became possible for the Government, through the preponderance of the aristocratic element, to exercise every kind of personal influence. Whilst the ruler drew the nobles of his province to his court, in order to divert himself in fitting society, his chief officials knew how to take advantage of their craving for rank and titles, and through offices, dignities, and gifts, and lastly by threats of royal displeasure, to break the resistance of individuals. Thus in the eighteenth century the States in most of the principalities sank into insignificance, in some they were entirely abolished. Still some continued to exist, and did not everywhere lose their influence and importance.

The sums, however, which they were able to grant did not by any means suffice for the new state--to maintain a costly court, numerous officials and soldiers. Regular imposts had to be devised which would be independent of their grants. The indirect taxes quickly increased to a threatening extent. The necessaries of life--bread, meat, salt, wine, beer--and many other things, were taxed to the consumers, at the end of the seventeenth century. The custom and excise officials were stationed at the city gates, and custom-houses were placed at the frontiers, for the merchandise which passed in and out. Commercial intercourse was made use of through stamped paper, even the pleasures of the subject were made available for the state; for example (in 1708 in the Imperial hereditary lands), not only public but private dances were taxed, and also, in 1714, tobacco. At last the poor comedians were likewise obliged to pay a gulden for each representation, and even the quack and eye doctors paid at each yearly market a few kreuzers, and heavy claims were made on the Jews. It was long before either people or officials could accustom themselves to the pressure of the new imposts; the tariff and the mode of levying it were always being altered, and frequently the governments saw with dissatisfaction their expectations disappointed. On the impoverished people the pressure of the new taxes fell very severely; loud and incessant were the complaints in the popular literature.

Meanwhile the subject worked with the plough and the hammer; he sat at the writing-desk, and saw around and over him everywhere the wheels of the great state machine; he heard its clicking and creaking, and was hindered, tormented, and endangered by its every movement. He lived under it as a stranger, timid and suspicious. In about six hundred great and small courts, he saw daily the splendid households of his rulers, and the gold-embroidered dresses of the court people; the lace of the lacqueys and the tufts of the footmen were to him objects of the highest importance, his usual topic of discourse. When the ruling lord kept a grand table, the citizens had sometimes the privilege of seeing the court dine. When the court, forming a sledge party, or a so-called wirthschaft,[75] drove through the streets in disguise, the subjects might look on. In winter they might even themselves take a share in a great masquerade, but a barrier was erected which separated the people from the sports of the court. Once the prince had contended with the citizens, shooting at the same target, and was only treated in the jokes of the pritschmeister with somewhat greater consideration. Now the court were entirely separated from the people; and if a courtier condescended to notice a citizen, it was generally no advantage to the purse or family peace of the privileged one. Thus the poor citizen acquired an abject feeling. To obtain an office or title which would give him somewhat of this courtly power, became the object of his ambition, and the same even with the artisan. In the five or six hundred court establishments the desire for titles spread from the nobles and officials down to the lowest class of the people. Shortly before 1700 began the monstrous custom of giving court titles to the artisans, and with these an order of precedence. The court shoemaker tried by petitioning and bribery to obtain the right of nailing the coat of arms of his sovereign over his door; and the court tailor and court gardener quarrelled bitterly which should go before the other, for the tailor, according to the letter of the rule of precedence, went as a matter of course before the gardener, but the latter had obtained the right of bearing a sword.[76] Wealth was the only thing besides rank that gave a privileged position. Whoever calls ours a money-seeking time, should remember how great was the influence of money in former times, and how eagerly it was sought by the poor. The rich man could, it was thought, effect everything. He could be made a nobleman, provided with a title, or by his presents put his rulers under an obligation to him. These presents, were in general received willingly. Greedily did the chancellor, the judge, or the councillor accept them, and even the most sensitive rarely withstood a delicately offered gift. The protection, however, obtained by the citizen in the new state was still very deficient; it was difficult for him to obtain justice against people of distinction and influence. Lawsuits in most of the German territories were endless. A difficult case of inheritance, or a bankruptcy business, would go on to the second and third generation. Government, with the best will, could not always punish even violent injury to property from burglary or robbery. It is instructive to investigate the proceedings against the bold robber bands; even when they succeeded in catching the delinquent, the stolen goods could seldom be restored to the owners. The neighbouring governments sometimes delivered up, on requisition and petition, the criminal who had found an asylum in their country, but such deliveries were generally preceded by special influence, and frequently by presents of money; but the confiscated possessions of the criminal were in many cases retained, and disappeared in the hands of the officials. When in 1733, at Coburg, a gold and silver manufactory was robbed, and strong suspicion fell on a wealthy Jewish trader, the proceedings were often stopped and interfered with, in consequence of the relations the Jew had with the court; and even after he was known to be in intimate connection with a band of robbers and murderers, the proceedings against his assistants could not be pursued further, because the magistrates of the place in Hesse where the robbers dwelt, helped their flight; and the further ramifications of the band, which spread to Bavaria and Silesia, could not be traced on account of the unwillingness of the tribunals. And yet this trial was carried on with great energy, and the person who had been robbed had made distant journeys and offered large sums. Everywhere the multiplicity of rulers, and the dismemberment of territories, were productive of weakness. The Margravate of Brandenburg and a portion of Lower Saxony formed almost the only great connected unity, except the Imperial possessions. In the rest of Germany lay interspersed many thousands of large and small domains, free cities, and parcels of land appertaining to the nobility. But even a modest pride in their own province could not be cultivated in individuals. For each of the countless frontiers occasioned far more isolation than in the olden time. Even in the larger cities, excepting in the cities on the Northern Ocean, municipal spirit had disappeared. Besides his own interests, the German had little to occupy him but the tittle-tattle of the day concerning family events and any remarkable news. It may be seen from many examples how trifling, pedantic, and malicious was the talk of the city for three generations, and how morbidly sensitive, on the other hand, men had become. Anonymous lampoons in prose and verse, an old invention, became ever more numerous, coarse, and malicious; they stirred up not only families, but the whole community of citizens; they became dangerous for the propagators, if they ever ventured to, attack any influential person or royal interests. Yet they increased everywhere; no government was in a position to prevent them; for an artful publisher easily found opportunity to print and distribute them on the other side of the frontier.

Under such circumstances some qualities were developed in the German character which have not yet quite disappeared. A craving for rank and title, servility to those who, whether as officials, or as persons of rank, lived in a higher position, fear of publicity, and above all a striking inclination to form a morose, mean, and scornful judgment of the character and life of others.

This gloomy, hopeless, discontented, and ironical disposition showed itself everywhere, after the Thirty Years' War, by individuals giving vent to their thoughts about the state within whose jurisdiction they lived. It is true that the Germans continued after the great war to take an interest in politics: newspapers of all kinds increased gradually, and bore the news to every house; confidential reports from the seats of government and great commercial cities were circulated; the half-yearly reports of fairs comprised an abstract of the occurrences of many months; and numberless flying sheets, representing party interests, appeared upon every weighty event, both internal and external. The execution of the king, in England, was generally condemned by German readers as a frightful crime, and the sympathies of the whole nation were long with the Stuarts; but shortly before William of Orange put to sea against James II. it was read and believed that James had ventured to substitute a false child as heir to the throne. No one, however, excited public opinion so strongly against himself as Louis XIV. If ever a man was hated by the whole of Germany, he was. It is remarkable, that whilst the manners of his court and the fashions of his capital were everywhere imitated by the upper classes, and even the people could not escape from their influence, his politics were from the first rightly estimated by them. Countless were the flying sheets which were scattered about from all sides against him. He was the disturber of the peace, the great enemy, and in the lampoons also the proud fool. After the Palatinate was laid in ashes, the people called their dogs Melac and Teras; after the taking of Strasburg, a deeper cry of woe passed through the land. Finally, when in the great War of Succession the German armies long kept the upper hand, a feeling of self-respect was excited, which appeared in the small literature of the day. Had there been a German prince who could have awakened an energetic patriotism in the weak people, this hatred would have helped him. But a powerful outburst of patriotic feeling was hindered by the political condition of the country; in Cologne and Bavaria, French printing-presses were at work, and German pens wrote against their own countrymen.

One cannot, therefore, say that the Germans were deficient altogether in political feeling in the century from 1640 to 1740, for it burst forth everywhere; even in works of imagination, in novels, and also in the drama, political conversation found a place, as did aesthetic talk in Goethe's time. But it was unfortunate that this feeling vented itself on the political quarrels of other countries, and that the transactions in Germany itself, excited less interest than the daily occurrences of the Parisian court, or the abdication of the Queen of Sweden. The indifferent public still continued to occupy itself as earnestly about comets, witches, appearances of the devil, a quarrel amongst ecclesiastics, disputes between councillors and citizens of some Imperial city, or the conversion of some small prince by the Jesuits, as about the battle of Fehrbellin. The preparations of the Turks and the war in Hungary were, perhaps, spoken of with a shake of the head; but to pay money for it, or render assistance, was seldom thought of; even after the siege of Vienna by the Turks, in 1683, Count Stahremberg was scarcely as interesting to the great German public as the spy Kolschitzky, who had brought the account from the city to the Imperial main army; his figure was engraved in copper in Turkish dress, and sold in the market. It is true he shared this glory with every distinguished thief and murderer who had ever been executed anywhere, to the great diversion of the public. Sometimes, indeed, the attention of the Germans was fixed with deeper interest on one man, the Elector of Brandenburg. In Southern Germany, also, he was spoken of respectfully; he was a powerful-minded prince, but, unfortunately, his means were small. This was the general opinion; but, as upon his character, so, likewise, upon other vital questions, did the German people give their opinion with as much tranquillity as if it were a question of the Muscovite Czar, or of the distant Japan, concerning which Jesuit accounts had been narrated centuries before. And this was not the result of the trammels of the press, though it certainly was much fettered; for, in spite of all the recklessness with which the ruling powers sought to revenge themselves on its unruly spirit, the multiplicity of states, and the mutual hatred of neighbouring governments, made it difficult to crush an unbridled press. It was other causes which made the people so indifferent to their own interests.

Neither was it deficiency in judgment. If the numberless political discourses of that time are clumsy and diffuse in composition, without any sufficient knowledge of facts and persons, yet they deserve credit for much sound sense and frequently a surprising comprehension of the condition of Germany. The Germans, even before 1700, were not deficient in political discernment; nay, before the Thirty Years' War, much progress was apparent. But it was their peculiar characteristic that, with this comprehension of their dangerous situation, of the helplessness of the Empire, and of its miserable, dislocated state, the people calmly and quietly recognised it with a shake of the head; even their literary teachers were rarely roused to manly indignation, still less to determined will, nor even to form fruitless projects. Thus, the nation in the seventeenth century might be compared to a hopeless invalid, who, free from the excitement of fever, soberly, calmly, and sensibly contemplates his own condition. We know, indeed, that it is our own century which has cured this morbid state of the German people; but we also perceive the cause of the singular, cold, and gloomy objectiveness which became so peculiar to our nation, and of which traces are yet to be discovered in many individuals. It is the disease of a rightly-gifted, genial nature, whose volition has been crushed by the horrors of war and the struggles of fate, and whose warm heart has been benumbed. A clear, circumspect, just spirit remains to the German; noble political enthusiasm is lost to him. He no longer finds pleasure and honour in being the citizen of a great State; he has no nation that he loves, no State that he honours; he is an individual among individuals; he has well-wishers and detractors, good friends and bad enemies, scarcely any fellow-citizens as yet, scarcely yet any countrymen.

As characteristic of such a frame of mind, a flying-sheet will here be given, which, in the allegorical style of the seventeenth century, makes bitter observations on the new State policy. Even during the great war, Bogislaw Philipp Chemnitz, one of the most zealous and talented adherents of the Swedish party, made a prodigious sensation by a book, in which he complains of the Imperial house as the principal cause of the misery of Germany, and finds the only salvation of the country in the independence and complete power of the German princes. From the title of the book,[77] "Staatsraison," this expression became the usual term for denoting the new system of government which, after the peace, began to prevail in the German territories. Since that, this Staatsraison was through half a century condemned in numerous moral treatises from the popular press; it was represented as double and triple headed, and in books, pictures, and satirical verses, always accused of being arbitrary, hard, and hypocritical. To this effect are the contents of the following work, which is here given with some abbreviations and alterations which are indispensable for its easier comprehension[78]:--

"As the ratio status is now not only honoured in the world, but held to be an irrevocable law, so are truth and honesty, on the other hand, no longer valued. When a situation in the service of the state is vacant, there is, indeed, no want of candidates; but out of nine the prince finds scarcely three that will suit him. Therefore, they must be examined. And if, in the examination, any one, in answer to the question, what should be the first and most distinguished virtue of a prince's councillor, should say: 'The men of the olden time teach that a prince should be none other than a servant for the general welfare; therefore, it is his duty to rule according to law and justice, for God and nature have implanted in the heart of every one a true balance for weighing the gold; do to others as you would they should do unto you;' then the prince would give him a courteous dismissal.

"Such a candidate had not long ago got through an examination at a certain court, by shrewd and cautious answers; he was nominated councillor, and as the prince was kindly disposed towards him, he gave him in marriage the daughter of his vice-chancellor. After the new councillor had taken the oath of fidelity and secresy, the vice-chancellor got the keys of the state apartments, and took his son-in-law in to initiate him into state secrets.

"In the first room hung many state mantles of all colours, on the outside beautifully trimmed, but badly lined inside, a portion of them having wolf or fox skins in addition to the bad lining. The son-in-law expressed surprise at this, but the chancellor answered: 'These are state mantles, which must be used when one has to propose anything suspicious to subjects, in order to persuade them that black is white; then must one disguise the matter in the mantle of state necessity, in order to induce the subjects to submit to contributions, rates, and other taxes. Therefore, the first mantle, embroidered in gold, is called the welfare of the subject; the second, with fringe, the advancement of the commonwealth; the third, which is red, the maintenance of divine service: it is used when one desires to drive any one, whom one cannot otherwise catch, from house and home, or give him a bloody back, under pretence of false teaching. The fourth is called zeal for the faith; the fifth, the freedom of fatherland; the sixth, the maintenance of privileges.' Last of all, there hung one very old and much worn, like an old banner or horse cover, concerning which the son-in-law laughed, wondering much; but the father-in-law said--'The daily and too great misuse of this has worn the hair off, but it is called good intentions, and is oftener sought after at the courts of the great than daily bread. For, if one lays insupportable burdens on subjects, and reduces them to skin and bone with soccage service, and if one cuts the bread from their mouths, it is said to be done with the best intentions; if one begins an unnecessary war, and plunges the country and its inhabitants in a sea of blood under fire and sword, it is done with the best intentions. Who could know that it would turn out so ill? If one sends innocent people to prison or to the rack, or drives them into utter misery, and their innocence comes to light, still it must have been with good intentions. If one passes an unjust judgment from hatred, envy, favour, bribery, or friendship, it is only done with a good intention. It comes at last to such a point, that one shall make use of the help of the devil with the best intentions. If one or other of these mantles are too short to disguise the roguery, one may cloak it with two, three, or more.' This room appeared very strange to the new councillor; he, nevertheless, followed his noble father-in-law into another; there they found all sorts of masks, so ingeniously formed both in colour and features that they might be the natural faces of men. 'When the mantles,' said the chancellor, 'do not suffice to the attainment of the above-mentioned object, one must make a change; for if one appears too often in one or the other mantle successively before the States, or subjects, or before neighbouring potentates, they at last learn to understand it, and say: "It is the old story; we know what he wants, he wishes to obtain money; but how can we always get it? One might at least be informed to what these repeated taxes are applied." The masks serve to meet this discontent One is called the oath; another, calumny; a third, deceit; these delude people, be they good or bad, and effect more than all the arguments of logic. But, above all, the oath is the masterpiece of court logic; for an honourable man always thinks that another is like-minded with himself; he holds more to an oath and good faith than to all temporal goods; but if a man is a knave, he must still give credence to an oath, otherwise he puts himself under suspicion that he neither values oaths nor duty. If both the others fail, calumny must be resorted to, to relieve subjects from the burden of some thousand gulden according to their means.'

"In the third chamber were hanging, in all directions, razors and brass basins; the shelves were covered with cupping-glasses and sponges. There were many vessels containing strong alkalies, tourniquets, and pincers, and shears lay on the tables and window-seats. The young councillor crossed himself; what could they have to do at court with this surgical apparatus, as even many artisans hesitate to admit bath-keepers, shepherds, millers, and trumpeters into their guilds? 'It is not so ill imagined,' said the old man; 'this is the least deceptive handiwork of the state policy, and is more profitable than pen and ink. It is so necessary, that no prince, without this handiwork, can long maintain with dignity his state and his reputation; and its use is so general, that even the country nobles practise it in a masterly way on their peasants; hence the maxim comes, that "If a nobleman draws too much blood from the peasants' veins, he himself is ruined." Of what use to the prince are his land and people, if he cannot shear their wool for the rents that are due, and draw contributions with cupping-glasses, and cleanse disobedient leaders by the alkali of sharp punishment? Nay, the potentates shave, pinch, and cup one another, also, whenever they can. Thus did the generals in the last war draw, now from the Imperial cities, now from the benefices, much of their best blood; and the Holy Roman Empire has been as severely pinched by foreign crowns as if it had been done by born bath-servants, only they have made the lie too hot. Many have held the basin to the foreigners, and things have gone so far, that insignificant cavaliers have ventured to shear other princes. But what the princes do not do in person is performed by their councillors, treasurers, and other officials, who allow themselves to be used as the sponge, and where they have attached themselves to an office, a city, or a village, and have sucked up so much moisture that they well-nigh burst asunder, then comes the prince, and gives them such a squeeze of the hand, that they are obliged to disgorge all that they have absorbed, and become as empty as cast-off serpent skins.'

"Silently did the young councillor listen, and entered the fourth chamber. There lay many cases of state spectacles of different kinds. 'Some, when they are put on, make a thing ten times larger than it is, so that a midge appears like an elephant--a thread like a rope--and a farthing like a rose-noble; they serve to blind the eyes of subjects. If the prince presents them with a couple of timber-trees, remits somewhat of their contribution, or gives them the liberty to appear before him in velvet and silk, they prize this as highly as if he had given them many thousand ducats. These spectacles so injure the eyes of the unfortunate courtiers, that the least favour, such as the prince laying his hand upon their shoulder, or even looking upon them, is valued more highly than if they had received from him a rent of 500 gulden. Nay, the prince has, through his most august understanding, discovered a special profitable use of these spectacles. If he finds the States unwilling to give him contributions, he gets up a cry that the enemy is at hand; that we need thus much and more of provisions, money, and men to meet the barbarous enemy, otherwise all would fall into his jaws. By these exaggerations the people are rendered willing, and give as much as they possibly can. But so soon as the fish is caught, then it is found that God has roused up great princes, who, for the sake of peace, have mediated, and the contributions are used for other purposes. Another kind of spectacles have, on the contrary, the property of making a mountain appear not greater than a hazel-nut or bean; they are fixed on the cities and frontier lands, right in the face of which the princes have built castles and fortresses; in order to persuade them that these are only pleasure and garden houses, custom-houses and hunting-boxes. The third kind of spectacles, through which the white appears black, and the black snow white, will always be used when one wishes anything bad to have a glittering appearance; they serve also for those who are induced to marry--under the supposition that they are virtuous ladies--the females who wait upon the royal household, make their beds, and curl their hair.'

"After this the chancellor reached down a box of brown powder, and desired his son-in-law to guess what it was. 'It is eye-powder or dust,' said the old man, 'which rulers sprinkle in the eyes of their subjects. It is one of the principal tricks to keep the populace quiet; for when there arise among them turbulent spirits, who open the eyes of subjects by certain political doctrines, and lead them to inquire into the secrets of government, to read the hearts of princes, bring together their grievances, and attach themselves to lynx-eyed agitators, then insurrection and war are at the door.' After this a vessel of court-peas was produced. The old man stated that this was one of the most noxious expedients employed at court, not indeed used by the rulers, but by their false courtiers. 'How so?' said the son. 'I regret that I must explain it to you,' answered the father, 'for I fear, if I teach it you too well, you may sometime try the art upon myself; where gain is to be made one puts even a father's nose out of joint. The peas are strewed in the council-room and chancery, on the stairs, here and there, in the hope of tripping up those whom you cannot otherwise get rid of, especially if they are conscientious, and think they can make their way by good intentions.

"'As most of the potentates know little themselves of these political tricks, unless Machiavellian councillors make them acquainted with them, who can blame the councillors if they make use of their secret to enrich and elevate themselves? Then follows the state policy of private persons, for where God builds a church the devil will have a chapel also; thus I have, by the side of my sovereign's principality, made myself a small one, and as I am now becoming old I will reveal to you, my son-in-law, these tricks, that you may be able to follow in my steps. But to the point I have never soiled myself with peasants and their dung-carts, but preferred great assemblages. Imperial, electoral, and princes' diets; for the larger the pond, the better it is to fish in. Yet have I so far acted with moderation that I have never intermeddled too far nor tied myself to one party alone; but have always remained a free man. Like the sleek fox, I adapted myself to every one's humour and business, and turned to the best account my jests. I led the various parties by the nose, so that they always had recourse to me, followed and trusted me; and, moreover, allowed themselves to be fooled. Thus I did from the beginning. When my prince discovered these qualities in me, he made me his councillor and then chancellor. Now the nobles must bring with them whole cartloads of wine, whole waggons full of corn, and the like gifts, if they would obtain a favourable decision in chancery, or wish to procure a bill of feoffment or decree of court. All the citizens and peasants, too, must make presents, or their causes lie in a heap undecided. But especially the following trick brought me good luck: When a rich man, having committed an evil deed, has been ill spoken of by the prince, &c., then I gave him to understand how great was the anger of the prince against him, and that it might cost him his life if he did not employ me in the business. If he agreed, I concealed his guilt; or, at least, helped him out of it. But if he did not, I would institute a suit against him, and he was exposed to danger and death. If he endeavoured to succeed, through the means of attorneys, in spite of me, I would make use of all my cunning to prevail against and ruin him. When the fox's skin did not answer, I assumed that of the lion; what I could not acquire by wiles and cunning, I usurped de facto, and discovered how I could obtain by violence. If any one complained of the old chancellor, and wished to bring a suit against him at court, I offered to submit myself to a judicial action, for the councillors, as colleagues, were on my side. I displaced in village and field the boundary stone, made other ditches and frontier lines, squeezed out of my neighbours some hundred morgens of arable land, meadows, and woods. In like manner I laid hands on the property of rich widows, orphans, and wards; bought rents and perpetual leases, and lent out money which, in three years, was doubled. It would be tedious to relate the gains I made by assignments, bills of exchange, wine, corn, and salt traffic.'

"All this the son-in-law listened to with great attention, and said, 'Noble father, you have well administered for your family, and brought it into prosperity; but the question is whether your descendants will prosper so as to inherit it in the third or fourth generation; for "ill-gotten gains seldom prosper."'

"'That signifies as little to me as a midge on the wall. Let any one say what he will, I, on the other hand, have what I will. He who would gain something must venture something, and not mind what people say. I have revealed and confided to you more than to my own wife and children. Now come home with me to supper.'"

Such is the purport of the sad irony of the flying sheet, which is peculiarly appropriate here, as it evidently gives expression to the common sentiments of the time. At the conclusion of it one particular intrigue of a small German court is more alluded to than related.

Even after 1700, this cold, bitter way of speaking of the political condition of Germany continued generally; for the "aufklärungs" literature, which sprang up at this period, altered the style more than the spirit. Indeed, from the end of the War of Succession till 1740, during the longest period of peace which Germany had experienced for a century, a diminution of political interest is discernible in the small literature. It is always the extraordinary destinies of individuals which more specially interest the public--the prophecies of a Pietist, the trial of a woman for child murder, the execution of an alchymist, and such like. When on Christmas night, 1715, two poor peasants were suffocated by coal vapours in a vineyard-hut at Jena, whilst they, together with a student and a torn copy of Faust's book of necromancy, were endeavouring to raise a great treasure, this misfortune gave rise to full a dozen flying sheets--clerical, medical, and philosophical--which fiercely contended as to whether the claw of the devil or the coals had been the cause of death. All the battles that had been fought, from that of Hochstädt to Malplaquet, had not made a greater sensation. Even in the "Dialogues from the Kingdom of the Dead,"--a clumsy imitation of Lucian, in which opinions were given of the public characters of the day,--it is evident that it is more particularly the anecdotes and the private scandal which attracted the people. Once more an interest was powerfully excited by the expulsion of the Protestant Salzburger; but in the year 1740 a great political character impressed itself on the soul of Germany, and announced by the thunder of his cannon the beginning of a new time.

But it was not the "State system" alone which loosened the connection of the burgher class, and turned the German into an isolated individual: the powers which usually confirm and strengthen the united life of individuals, faith and science, worked to the same effect.

CHAPTER V.

"DIE STILLEN IM LANDE," OR PIETISTS.

(1600-1700.)

The contrast between the epic time of the Middle Ages, and the new period which has already been often called the lyrical, is very perceptible in every sphere of human life, and not least in the realm of faith.

The Roman Catholic Church of the Middle Ages had consecrated the life of every individual by a multitude of pious usages, and shut it up in an aristocratic spiritual state, in which the spirit of the individual was fast bound in rigid captivity, with little spontaneous action. The Reformation destroyed in the greater part of Germany these fetters of the popular mind; it set freedom of decision and mental activity in opposition to the outward constraint and splendid mechanism of the old Church. But Protestantism gave a system of doctrine, as well as freedom and depth, to the German mind. In the great soul of Luther, both these tendencies of the new faith were in equilibrium; the more passionately he struggled for his explanation of holy writ and the dogmas of his school, the stronger and more original was the mental process through which, after his own way, he sought his God in free prayer. It is, nevertheless, clear that the great progress which accrued to the human race from his teaching, could not fail to result in forming two opposite tendencies in Protestantism. The two poles of every religion, knowledge and the emotions of the soul, the intellectual boundaries of religious knowledge and the fervid resignation of self to the Divine, must prevail in the soul with varying power, according to the wants of the individual and the cultivation of the period; now one, now the other will preponderate, and the time might arrive when both tendencies would come into strife and opposition. At first Protestantism waged war against the old Church, and against the parties that arose within itself,--a necessary consequence of greater freedom and independence of judgment.

It is difficult to judge how far this liberal tendency of Protestantism would have led the nation, if adversity had not come upon them. The great war, however, gave rise to a peculiar apathy even in the best. Each party engaged bore a token of their faith upon their banners, each brought endless misfortune upon the people, and in all, it was apparent how little baptism and the Lord's Supper availed to make the professors of any confession good men. When the flames of war were dying away, men were much inclined to attribute a great portion of their own misery and that of the country to the strife of the contending persuasions. It naturally followed that the colder children of the world attached little value to any religion, and turned from it with a shrug of the shoulder when the old ecclesiastical disputes, which even during the war had never been entirely silenced, began to rage with loud bluster in the pulpit and the market-place. In many districts the mass of the people had been compelled, by dragonades and the most, extreme methods of coercion, to change their persuasion three and four times, and the formulas of belief were not more valued by them, from their having learnt them by rote. Thus waste and empty had become the inward life of the Church, which, together with the coarseness and vices introduced among men by the long war, gave to the ten years after it an aspect so peculiarly hopeless. There was little to love, very little to honour upon earth.

Yet it was just at this period, when each individual felt himself in constant fear of death, that a kind Providence often interposed to save them from destruction. Sudden and fearful were the dangers, and equally sudden and wonderful the rescue. That the strength of man was as nothing in this terrible game of overwhelming events, was deeply imprinted on the soul of every one. When the mother with her children hid herself trembling in the high corn whilst a troop of horsemen were passing by, and in that moment of danger murmured a prayer with blanched lips, she naturally ascribed her preservation to the special protection of a merciful God. If the harassed citizen, in his hiding-place in the woods, folded his hands and prayed fervently that the Croats who were plundering the town might not find his concealed treasure, and afterwards, upon raking up the cinders of his burnt house, found his silver pieces untouched, he could not help believing that a special Providence had blinded the greedy eyes of the enemy. When terrible strokes of fate overtake individuals in rapid succession, a belief in omens, forebodings, and supernatural warnings is inevitably fostered. Whilst the superstition of the multitude fixes itself on the northern lights and falling stars, on ghosts and the cry of the screech-owl, more polished minds seek to discover the will of the Lord from dreams and heavenly revelations. The long war had, it is true, hardened the hearts of men against the miseries of others; it had also deprived them of all equability of mind; and the vacant gaze into a desolated world, and cold indifference, were in most only interrupted by fits of sudden weakness, which perhaps were produced by insignificant causes, and a reckless sinner was suddenly plunged into sorrow and contrition. Life was undoubtedly poor in love and elevation, but the necessity of loving and honouring which lies so deep in the German nature, after the peace, sought painfully for something high and steadfast, in order to give an aim and an interest to his poor wavering life. Thus the mind clung to the holy conceptions of faith, which it again with quiet reverence endeavoured to realise heartily, affectionately, and confidingly.

From such longings in the hearts of the people, a new life was developed in the Christian Church. It was not only among the followers of Luther, but equally in the Calvinistic persuasion, and almost as much in the Roman Catholic Church; it was also not only in Germany and the countries which then partook of German cultivation, Denmark, Sweden, Eastern Sclavonia, and Hungary, but almost at the same time in England, and even earlier in France and Holland, where religious schism and political faction have rent asunder the souls of men in bitter controversy for centuries. Nay, even among the Jesuits we may find the working of this same craving after a new ideal in a cheerless life. In the history of the Christian Church, this Pietism--as the new tendency has been called by its opponents since 1674--has been a transitory impulse, which blossomed and withered in little more than a century. The effect it has exercised on the culture, morals, and spirit of the German people may still be perceived. In some respects it has been an acquisition to the nation, and a short account of it shall now be given.

As this Pietism was no new doctrine proclaimed by some great reformer, but only a tendency of the spirit which burst forth among many thousands at the same time, the greater number of its professors remained firm at first in the dogmas of their church. In fact, in the beginning it only expressed wide-spread convictions, to which the best natures had already, before the Thirty Years' War, given utterance; that the points of union of religions parties, and not the deviations of doctrinal opinions, were the main objects of faith; that personal communion with God was independent of dogmas; that it availed little to hear sermons and take the sacrament, to confess that one was a great sinner and relied on the merits of Christ only and not on our own works, nor to refrain from great sins and to say a few lifeless prayers at appointed hours. And yet this was the usual Christianity of both ecclesiastics and laity: a dead faith, a mere outward form of godliness, the letter without the spirit. Little did the baptism of children signify without conversion on arriving at maturity, little also did communionship with the church avail, by which the laity only received passively the gifts of salvation: each individual ought to establish the priesthood of the Lamb in his own heart. Such was the feeling of thousands. Of the many in Germany that followed this tendency of the heart, none exercised for many years so great an influence as Jacob Spener, between 1635 and 1705. Born in Alsace, where for more than a century the doctrines of Luther and of the Swiss reformers flourished conjointly and contended together, where the learning of the Netherlands and even the pious books of England were harboured, his pious heart early imbibed a steadfast faith through the earnest teaching of schools, and under the protection accorded to him by ladies of distinction in difficult times. Even as a boy he had been severe upon himself and when he had once ventured to a dance he felt obliged to leave it from qualms of conscience. He had been a tutor at a prince's court, and also studied at Basle. At Geneva he saw with astonishment how Jean de Labadie, by his sermons on repentance, had emptied the wine-houses, caused gamblers to give back their gains, and stamped upon the hearts of the children of Calvin the doctrines of inward sanctification and of following after Christ with entire self-renunciation. From thence Spener went to Frankfort-on-the-Maine as pastor, and by his labours there produced a rich harvest of blessing, which assumed ever-increasing proportions, and soon procured him followers throughout Germany. Happily married, in prosperous circumstances, peace-loving and prudent, with calm equanimity and tender feelings, a loving, modest nature, he was specially adapted to become the counsellor and confidant of oppressed hearts. Over women especially this refined, kind-hearted, dignified man had great influence. He established meetings of pious Christians in a private dwelling; they were the far-famed Collegia pietatis, in which the books of the holy Scriptures were explained and commented upon by the men, whilst the women listened silently in a space set apart for them. When later he had to deliver these discourses in the church, they lost, for the zealous, the attractive power which in the calm exclusiveness of the select society they had exercised; parties arose, and a portion of his scholars separated from the church. He himself, after twenty years of active exertion, was called from Frankfort to Dresden, and from thence soon after to Berlin.

Spener himself was disinclined to sectarianism, the mysticism of Arndt, and still more of Jacob Böhme, was repulsive to him, and he disapproved when some of his friends abandoned the church; he struggled incessantly against the enemies who wished to drive him out of it, and during the last half of his life maintained a quiet struggle against his own followers, who publicly showed their disrespect to the dogmas of the church. He was decidedly no enthusiast; that the Christian religion was one of love, that in one's own life one was to imitate that of Christ, and value little the transitory pleasures of the world, that, after his example, one was to show love to one's fellow-creatures: this was always the noble keystone of his teaching. And yet there was something in his nature, without his wishing it, which was favourable to the isolation and seclusion in which, in the following century, the religious life of the Pietists wore away. The stress which he laid upon private devotion, and the solitary striving of the soul after God, and, above all, the critical distrust with which he regarded worldly life, could not fail to bring his followers soon into opposition with it. The insignificance and shallowness of many pretenders to sanctity who clung yearningly to him, made it inevitable that a similar mode of feeling and of judging life would shortly become mere mannerism, which would show itself in language, demeanour, and dress.

God was still the loving Father who was to be stormed by the power of prayer, and might be moved to listen. But this generation had learnt resignation, and a gentle whisper to God took the place of the urgent prayer in which Luther had "brought the matter home to his Lord God." The inscrutable ways of Providence had been imprinted by fearful lessons on the soul, and the progress of science gave such presage of the grandeur of the world's system, that the weakness and insignificance of man had to be more loudly proclaimed. The sinner had become more in awe of his God, the naïve ingenuousness of the Reformation was lost. The craving for marvels had therefore increased--increased in this generation--and zealously did they endeavour in indirect ways to fathom the will of the Lord. Dreams were interpreted, prognostics discerned; every beautiful feeling of the soul, every sudden discovery made by the combinations of the mind, were considered as direct inspirations from God. It was an old popular belief, that accidental words which were impressed on the mind from outward sources were to be considered as significant, and this belief had now become a system. As the Jutlander Steno--the Roman Catholic Bishop of Hanover, and acquaintance of Leibnitz--suddenly became a fanatic, because a lady had spoken out of the window some indifferent words, which he in passing by conceived to be a command from Heaven, so did accidental words sway the minds of the Pietists. It was a favourite custom in cases of doubt to open suddenly upon some verse in the Bible or hymn book, and from the tenor of the words to decide these doubts--the sentence on which the right-hand thumb was set was the significant one--a custom which to this day remains among the people, and the opponents of which, as early as 1700, called deridingly "thumbing." If any one had a call from the external world, the system was to refuse the first time, but, if repeated, then it was the call of the Lord. It may easily be conceived that the believing soul might, even in the first refusal, unconsciously follow a quiet inclination of the heart which had secretly said yes or no.

That in a period of unbridled passions, the reaction against the common lawlessness should overstep moderation is natural. After the war, a crazy luxury in dress had begun; the women loved to make a shameless display of their charms, the dances were frivolous, the drinking carousals coarse, and the plays and novels often only a collection of impurities. Thus it was natural that those who were indignant at all this should choose to wear high dresses, simple in style and dark in colour, and that the women should withdraw from dances and other amusements; the drinking wine was in bad repute, the play not visited, and dances esteemed a dangerous frivolity. But zeal went still further. Mere cheerful society also appeared doubtful to them--men should always show that they valued little the transitory pleasures of the world; even the most harmless, offered by nature to men's outward senses, its smiling blossoms and the singing of birds, were only to be admired with caution, and it was considered inadmissible, at least on Sunday, to pluck flowers or to put them in the hair or bosom. That praiseworthy works of art should not find favour with the holders of such opinions was natural. Painting and profane music were as little esteemed as the works of the poets by whom the anxieties of earthly love are portrayed. The world was not to be put on an equality with the Redeemer. Those who follow not the ways of "piety," live in conformity with the world.

He who thus withdraws himself from the greater portion of his fellow-men, may daily say to himself that he lives with his God in humility and resignation, but he will seldom preserve himself from spiritual pride. It was natural that the "Stillen im lande," as they early called themselves, should consider their life the best and most excellent, but it was equally natural that a secret conceit and self-sufficiency of character should be fostered by it. They had so often withstood the temptations of the world, so often made great and small sacrifices; and as they had the illumination of God's grace, they were his elect. Their faith taught them to practise Christian duties in a spirit of benevolence to man, to do good to others, like the Samaritan to the traveller, in the wilderness of life. But it was also natural that their sympathy and benevolence to others should be chiefly engrossed by those who had the same religious tendencies. Thus their mutual union became, from many circumstances, peculiarly firm and remarkable. It was not, in the first instance, particularly learned ecclesiastics who were Pietists; on the contrary, the greater portion of the clergy in 1700 stood firm to the orthodox point of view in opposition to them. But they lived more by the Gospel than the law; they sought carefully to avoid the appearance of exercising, as preachers, dominion over the consciences of the community. This captivated the laity--the strong minds and warm hearts of all classes, scholars, officials, not a few belonging to the higher nobility, and, above all, women.

For the first time since the ancient days of Germany--with the exception of a short period of chivalrous devotion to the female sex--were German women elevated above the mere circle of family and household duties; for the first time did they take an active share as members of a great society in the highest interests of humankind. Gladly was it acknowledged by the theologians of the Pietists, that there were more women than men in their congregations, and how assiduously and zealously they performed all the devotional exercises, like the women who remained by the cross when the Apostles had fled. Their inward life, their struggle with the world, their striving after the love of Christ and light from above, were watched with hearty sympathy by all in their intimacy, and they found trusty advisers and loving friends among refined and honourable men. The new conception of faith which laid less stress on book-learning than on a pure heart, acted on them like a charm. The calm, the seclusion, and the aristocratic tendency of the system, attracted them powerfully; even their greater softness, the energy of their impulsive feelings, and their excitable, nervous nature, made them more especially subjects for emotions, enthusiasm, and the wonderful workings of the Godhead. Already had the gifted Anna Maria von Schurmann, at Utrecht--the most learned of all maidens and long the admiration of travellers--been separated from the church through Jean de Labadie; and the pious and amiable lady had, in 1670, in her holy zeal, withdrawn all her works, though they contained nothing unchristian. Like her, many other women endeavoured to be the representatives of their priesthood to the people; many of these pious theologians could boast of strong-minded women, who prayed with and comforted them, ever strengthening them amid the difficulties of faith, and partaking of their light. Thus it came to pass that women of all classes became the most zealous partisans of the Pietists. There was scarcely a noble or rich family which did not count among its ladies one that was pious, nor who, though they might at first be angered, were not gradually influenced by their intrinsic worth and moral exhortations. To such noble ladies there was a great charm in being able to protect persons of talent in their community. They became zealous patronesses, unwearied proselytisers, and trustworthy confidants, and helpers in the distresses of others. But whilst they laboured for the interests of their faith, their own life was subject to many influences. They came into contact with men of different classes, they were accustomed to correspond with those who were absent, and they learnt to give vent to the secrets of the heart, and to the tender feelings of their souls. Although this was often done in the canting expressions of the community, yet it produced in many a deepening of the inner life. There was, indeed, something new added to the spirit of the people.

The habit of reflecting on their own condition, of judging themselves under strong inward emotions, was quite new to the German mind. It is very touching to observe the child-like pleasure with which these pious people watched the processes of their mental activity, and the emotions of their hearts. Much was strange and surprising to them which we, from greater practice in the observation of our own inward life and that of others, only find common. Every train of conceptions which rapidly formed themselves into an image, a thought, or an idea, every sudden flash of feeling, the mainspring of which they could not discover, appeared to them wonderful. The language of the Bible, which, after long groping, they began to understand, was unfolded to them. Their visions, which, owing to their assiduous application to the Scriptures, assumed frequently the form of Bible figures, were carefully, after their awakening, brought into rational coherence, and, unconscious of the additions of their imagination, were polished into a small poem. Their lyrical tendencies gave a new form to their diaries, which hitherto had been only a register of casual occurrences; the confidential pages became now clumsy attempts to express in grand words, impassioned feelings, and were filled with observations on their own hearts. When a Pietist, shortly after 1700, writes: "There were so many deep thoughts in my heart, that I could not give expression to them," or, "I had a strong feeling about these thoughts," this sounds to us like the utterance of a later time, in the style of Bettine Arnim, who undoubtedly was, in many respects, an echo of the excited women who once prayed, under the guidance of Spener, on the banks of the Maine. This same facility of self-contemplation found its way into poetry, and later into novels.

Together with Pietism there began also in Germany a new style of social intercourse. Seldom was a quiet life the lot of the heads of the pious communities; they were transplanted, driven away, and moved about hither and thither. The disciples, therefore, who sought for instruction, comfort, and enlightenment, were often obliged to travel into distant countries. Everywhere they found souls in unison, patrons and acquaintances, and often a good reception and protection from strangers. Those who did not travel themselves, loved to write to kindred spirits concerning their dispositions, temptations, and enlightenment. Such letters were carried about, copied, and sent far and wide. Thus arose a quiet communion of pious souls throughout Germany, a new human tie, which first broke through the prejudices of classes, made women important members of a spiritual society, and established a social intercourse, the highest interest of which was the inward life of the individual. And this social tendency of the pious, determined the form and method of intercourse of the finer minds for a hundred years later than the time of Spener; indeed, the social relations between our great poets and German princesses and ladies of rank, was only rendered possible because the "Stillen im lande" had lived at courts in a similar way. The whole system was the same: the visits of travellers, the letters, and the quiet community of refined souls. The sentimentality of the Werther period was only the stepdaughter of the emotional mania of the old Pietism.

The beneficial influence, also, exercised by the Pietists on the manners and morals of the people should not be under-rated, although much of this influence was undoubtedly lost by their proneness to separate from the multitude. But, wherever the labours of Spener, as shepherd of souls, had found imitators, especially where Pietism had been recognised by the church of the State, the practical Christianity of the new teaching was perceptible. Like Spener, his followers felt the importance of religious instruction for the young, and gladly availed themselves of the opportunities when the youthful souls of the parish and the parents opened themselves to them, to counsel them on the more important occurrences of the day, and give a practical turn to their teaching. It was they who, with warm hearts, first, after the devastating war, provided schools for the people; and to them must be attributed the first regular supervision of the poor in the large cities. It is known that the German orphan-houses were established through them; the example of Franke, in Halle, was followed in many other cities--these great institutions were looked upon as a wonder by contemporaries. Throughout all ages these foundations of our pious ancestors ought to be regarded with special interest by our nation; for they are the first undertakings for the public welfare which have been formed by the voluntary contributions of individuals from the whole of Germany. For the first time did the people become conscious how great may be the results of many with small means working together. It is not surprising that this experience seemed then to the people like a fabulous tale, when one considers that in the ten years before and after 1700, the "Stillen" must have collected in the countries where the German tongue is spoken, far more than a million of thalers for orphan-houses and other similar benevolent institutions; this was, undoubtedly, not from private sources alone, but in that poor and depopulated country such sums are significant.

Thus did Pietism prepare men for rapid progress in many directions, and its best offering to its votaries, a more elevated sense of duty, and a greater depth of feeling, passed from the "Stillen im lande" into the souls of many thousands of the children of the world; it contributed scarcely less than science to the beginning of that period of enlightenment, by mitigating the wild and rough practices which everywhere prevailed in the second half of the seventeenth century, and by giving to the family life of Germans, at least in the cities, greater simplicity, order and morality. The families from whom our greatest scholars and poets have sprung, the parental houses of Goethe and Schiller, show the influence which the Pietism of the last generation exercised on their forefathers.

That many of the Pietists might lose themselves in extravagancies and dangerous by-ways, is easily comprehensible.

It was natural that with those who, after inward struggles and long strivings, had obtained strength for a godly life, the delivery of man from sin should become the main point; and as they were yearning, above all, for the direct working of God on their own life, it followed that they ascribed this awakening to the special grace of God; that they sought earnestly in prayer for the moment when this special illumination and sanctification should take place by a manifestation of the divinity; and that when, after severe tension of the soul, they reached a state of exaltation, they considered this as the beginning of a new life to which the grace of God was assured. Luther, also, had striven for this illumination; he also had experienced the transports of exaltation, inward peace, repose, certainty, and a feeling of superiority to the world; but it had been with him, as with the strong-minded among his contemporaries, an ever-enduring struggle, a frequently-repeated victory, a powerful mental process which appeared sometimes, indeed, wonderful to himself, but in which with his sound, strong nature, there was nothing morbid, and of which the special form, the struggles with the devil, were the natural consequences of the naïve, simple-hearted popular faith, which had changed the old household spirits and hobgoblins of our heathen ancestors into Christian angels and the devil. The Pietists, on the other hand, lived in a time when the life both of nature and man was more rationally viewed as to cause and effect, when a multitude of scientific conceptions were popular, when a practical worldly mind prevailed which made itself few illusions; and when the hearts of men were seldom elevated by enthusiasm and great ideas. Already we begin to trace the beginnings of rationalism. In such a time this regeneration, this moment of awakening, was not a frame of mind easily produced--not a condition in which, with a sound mental constitution, one could place oneself without a certain degree of violence. It was necessary to wait for it--to prepare oneself strenuously, and constrain body and soul to it, by a self-contemplation, in which there was something unsound; one must watch anxiously one's own soul, to discover when the moment of awakening was nigh. And this moment of awakening itself was to be entirely different from every other frame of mind. In order to arrive at the conviction of its presence, that was not sufficient for them, which, after severe struggles, had given a happiness to the great reformers that rested on their countenances like a reflection of the Godhead; the peace and serenity which come after the victorious end of a struggle betwixt duty and inclination. This outpouring of grace with the Pietists was frequently accompanied by ecstasies, visions, and similar pathological phenomena, which at no period have been wanting, but which were then sought after as the highest moments of human life and recounted with admiration. It will shortly be shown that this was the rock on which Pietism struck.

With such tendencies, even the reading of the Scriptures was fraught with special danger. When they explained the holy Scriptures, being under the conviction that God favoured them with a direct influence, they were in the unfortunate position of considering every accidental incident that presented itself to them in any part, as an unerring manifestation. Now, the yearning of a weak age for a better condition, and the inclination of the pious for special illumination, rendered the prophetic books of the Old and New Testament particularly attractive. Thus it came to pass that the Pietists drew from them a multitude of revelations and prophecies. It is of no importance at what results they arrived; but this engrossing attention to the dark passages of the prophets, and especially the Revelation of St John, did not contribute to render their judgment clearer, nor their scientific culture more solid: for in their time the key to the better understanding these records had not been found. Moreover, the knowledge of languages even among scholars was generally unsatisfactory, although, after the example of Schurmann, there was already here and there a pious maiden who began to learn Hebrew. It was not long before all worldly knowledge appeared, to most of them, useless and detrimental.

Thus, Pietism was threatened with great dangers immediately after its rise; but the life of the early Pietists, who from Frankfort spread themselves all over Germany, was more simple and harmless than the later proceedings at Halle, under the separatists of the eighteenth century.

Two autobiographies of pious individuals of Spener's school have been preserved to us, which throw light on other phases of German life. It is a husband and wife who have bequeathed them to us,--kind-hearted people, with warm feelings, some learning and no particular powers of mind,--the theologian, Johann Wilhelm Petersen, and his wife, Johanna Eleanor, born von Merlau. After they were united in marriage, they led together a spiritual life, in perfect unanimity, and, like a pair of birds, flitted through the temptations and troubles of this earthly valley. Heavenly consolation and manifestation came to them alike. The world considered them as enthusiasts, but they were held in honour to the close of their life by the best among the Pietists, undoubtedly because of the goodness of their hearts, which were not choked up with spiritual pride. The husband was industrious and faithful to his duties, a man with poetical feeling and some philosophical culture; but he needed another to lean on, and was evidently much influenced by his more decided wife, whose worldly position, as being noble, gave her consideration even among the pious. It was soon after his marriage that a restless excitement, and sometimes an immoderate zeal, became visible in him. His wife, who was some years older than himself, had attained to a rigid piety, whilst struggling against the worldly life of the small prince's court, where she had lived. One may conclude from her biography, that she was not free from ambition and love of power, with a slight touch of asperity. Her long, quiet struggle had made her over-zealous, and she and the pious Frau Bauer von Eyseneck, with whom she lived later at Frankfort, both belonged to the enthusiastic members of the community, who were inclined to conventicles, and caused great sorrow on that account to their pastor, Spener. It may therefore be assumed that it was chiefly the influence of the wife that drove her husband on in the course which at last removed him from his office, and gave him the repute of being an enthusiast and millennarian. But the hatred of the orthodox party has done injustice to both; they were honest even when predicting marvels. We will first give the youthful years of the wife, then some characteristic traits from the life of the husband, related in their own words. Johanna Eleonora Petersen, by birth von Merlau, was born at Merlau the 25th of April, 1644. She narrates as follows[79]:--

"The fear of the Lord has guarded me, and His goodness and truth have led me.

"I have felt the quieting of his good Spirit from childhood, but have resisted it from ignorance. My high position in the world has been a great hindrance to his working; because I loved the world equally with Him, till I came to a right understanding, and till the saving Word wrought powerfully in me to conviction. For when I was about four years old it came to pass that my dear parents, who had lived at Frankfort on account of the troubles of war, returned into the country, as peace was established. They brought many things into the country, and my now deceased mother lived with me and both my sisters on a property at Hettersheim, called Philippseck, where she believed herself to be out of harm's way. Then came the servants and told her that a troop of horsemen were coming, whereupon every one quickly put away what belonged to them and left; my now deceased mother, with three little children, alone, of whom the eldest was seven and I four years old, and the third at the breast. Then did my deceased mother take the youngest in her arms, and both of us by the hand, and went without a maid-servant to Frankfort, which was distant a long half-league. But it was summer, the corn was standing in the fields, and one could hear the noise of the soldiers, who were marching about a pistol's shot from us. Then did my deceased mother become much alarmed, and bade us pray. But when we came to the outermost gate of the city, where we were in security, my deceased mother sat herself down with us, and exhorted us to thank the Most High God who had protected us. Then said my eldest sister, who was three years older than I, 'Why should we pray now? now they cannot come to us.' Then was I grieved to the heart at this speech, that she would not thank God, or thought that it was no longer necessary. I rebuked her for this, having fervent love for the Lord, whom I thanked with my whole heart--Item, as I was persuaded that the midwife had brought the children from heaven, I had a great desire to talk to her; I charged her to greet heartily the Lord Jesus, and desired to learn from her whether the dear Saviour loved me. These were the first childish emotions that I can distinctly remember.

"When I was nine years old we became motherless orphans, and matters went ill with us; for our father dwelt at a farm five miles from our property, and brought the widow of a school-master into the house to take care of us. She had her own children to help on, and spent upon them what should have been ours, leaving us in want, so that we often gladly took what others would not have. It happened too through her artifices that she left us alone in the house in the evening. Then came certain people, dressed in white shirts, and their faces rubbed with honey and sprinkled with flour; they went about the house with lights, broke open chests and coffers, and took from out of them what they wished. This gave us such a fright that we huddled together behind the stove, and perspired with fear. This went on till the whole house was emptied. As our father was very severe with us, we had not the heart to complain, but were only glad when he left us; so we bore with this annoyance till von Praunheim, who is now married to my sister, visited us,--he was then very young. To him we complained of our distress, and he undertook to remain concealed in the house till evening, to see whether the spirits would come again. When they did come, and one went straight to the cupboard to break it open, then he sprang out, and found that they were people from the country town--sons of a wheelwright, who were intimate with the widow who had charge of us. But, as he was alone, they rushed away and would not allow that it was them; but the spirits did not return, and we recovered much that they had left on the floor of the kitchen.

"This widow was discharged by my deceased father, and it was proposed to him to take a captain's wife, who was in repute for her housekeeping and cleverness in other ways; then my deceased father thought he had provided well for us. But she was an unchristian woman, and did not forget her soldier tricks. For once, when she saw some strange turkeys on the road, she had them driven to the house; seized the best, and drove the others away. To cook this stolen roast she wished to have some dry wood, and in order to obtain this sent me to a square tower, five stories high. There had been a pigeon-house under the roof, where loose dry boards were lying, some of which I was to fetch. When I had thrown down some, and was trying to tear away one that was still firm, I was thrown back and fell down two stories on to a flight of steps, and had I turned myself round I should have fallen two stories more. I lay there about half an hour in a swoon, and when I came to myself did not, at once, know how I came there; I stood up and felt that I was very faint. I went down the staircase, and laid myself on a bed that stood in a room in this same tower, on which my deceased father used to sleep when he was at home. There I slept some hours, and when I got up was quite fresh and sound. But during the whole of this time there were no inquiries made after me; and when I said that I had fallen I was only scolded for not having been more prudent. I sat apart, for I would not eat of the stolen roast; it appeared to me truly disgraceful, and yet I had not courage to say so.

"When I was in my eleventh year my deceased sister, who was three years older than me, was sent to the pastor to be instructed for her confirmation. Then a strong desire came over me to go with her, but my deceased father would not allow me, as I was only ten years old. I persisted, however, till my father gave his consent, if his reverence the pastor should consider me fit for it. This latter had me brought to him, questioning me not only as to the words, but also concerning the sense of what I read. But God gave me such grace in answering that his reverence the pastor was well content, and admitted me.

"Some time afterwards my sister went to Stuttgart, and I had to take upon me the housekeeping, and to render an account of everything, which was very difficult for me; because my deceased father, whenever he came home, treated me with great severity, and called me to account for all that was broken, or in any way not to his mind, and I was often severely punished when I was innocent.

"Owing to this, such servile fear took possession of me, that I shuddered whenever I heard a voice that resembled that of my father. Concerning this I breathed forth many sighs to my God; but, when he was away again, I became in good spirits, and sang and danced in gladness of heart. I had at the same time a thorough aversion to everything that was unseemly or childish, and would not have anything to do with the games of marriages and christenings, and the like, of other girls, for I was ashamed of them.

"When twelve years old I was taken to court to the Countess von Solms-Rödelheim. She was about to be confined, and was sometimes not right in her mind; when I went, however, she was tolerably well. But soon after, she was confined and had two children, a young gentleman and a lady, and became worse from day to day, so that she often took me for her dog, which was a little lion-dog, called me by his name, and beat me like him. It happened frequently that we drove in the water, for in the winter time the meadows between Frankfort and Rödelheim were quite overflowed with water, so that it entered the carriages; then the carriages were driven empty, but we went in a boat and got in again when we came to the end of the water. When we thus drove she often pushed me into the water; I was to swim as her little dog, but the Most High preserved me. Once I discovered that she had taken a knife with a sheath out of her cupboard, and put it in her pocket. I mentioned it to the maidservant, who was rather elderly, but she would not listen to me; and thought the countess had no knife, and it was childishness in me. There was a door from the bedroom of the countess into our room, and another into that of the count. Now when night came I would not lie down for thinking of the knife; but the maid was angry with me, and threatened to tell the count how childishly I behaved; but I would only lie down on the bed with my clothes on. In the night, hearing a great disturbance, I woke up every one and rose from bed. Then the count was heard running out of the room; and forth came the countess, with a night-light and the bare knife in her hand. When she saw us all awake, she became terrified and let the knife fall; then I sprang towards her as if I wished to reach her the knife, but I ran with it out of the door and down the stairs in the dark. When I was on the stairs I heard the count call out, 'Where is my wife?'--to whom I answered that I had got the knife; but I was so frightened that I would not trust myself to turn back again, but went into a hall, which is called the giant hall and is very gloomy, and there I remained. But the maid, who was a serf of the countess's mother, from Bohemia, went off and did not return. So I was left some weeks alone with the countess, and had to dress and undress her, which was very hard upon me.

"But my deceased father happened to hear from others that I was in such danger, and took me away. After this I went at about fifteen years old to the Duchess of Holstein, born Landgravine of Hesse, who had married Duke Philipp Ludwig, of the Suderburg family. The duke had by a first marriage a daughter, who had just married the Count von Zinzendorf, president of the Imperial chamber. I was taken as maid of honour to this royal bride; her woman of the bedchamber was a von Steinling, who was thirty years of age. Immediately after my arrival, the journey to Lintz, where the marriage was to take place, was begun. We went by the Danube, and very jovial it was; the drums and trumpets sounded beautiful on the water, and everywhere throughout the journey we were splendidly received; the preparations having been made by those who had been sent to fetch the bride. It was very joyful to me after my former terror, and I had no anxieties except the thought that my soul might suffer, because I was going to a popish place. Whenever we came to a resting-place, I looked out for a chamber where there was no one else, fell on my knees and prayed that God would prevent everything that might be injurious to my salvation. The chamber-maid of the bride remarked how I retired apart, and slipt after me once to see what I did alone, for she still looked upon me as very childish, because I was small. When, however, she found me praying on my knees, she went quietly back without my knowing that she had seen me. But once, when the royal bride inquired whether I ever prayed, the woman of the bedchamber answered that they need have no anxiety about me. Now when we came to Lintz, the marriage took place at the Imperial castle, and everything went off grandly. The following day the royal bride went to the chapel of the castle, and there a blessing was pronounced upon her, and a goblet full of wine was given; this was called the Johannis blessing, and of this she and the count were to partake. Now, after the marriage was celebrated, when every one was to settle down in their proper places, there arose a dispute among the authorities concerning me. The Count von Zinzendorf said that he would only admit the lady of the bedchamber (as the noble maidens were then called) to his table; that the others must have their meals with the 'hoffmeisterin.' This the duke would not consent to, as he said that she was only from the burgher class, whereas I was of an old family, and not inferior to the others, and he could not permit that such a distinction should be made between us, especially as I was his wife's goddaughter.

"As this, however, was of no avail, it was determined that I should return with the duchess, and when the reason was explained to me, it appeared to me quite wonderful, for it was my wish to have my meals along with the 'hoffmeisterin,' rather than at the prince's table. But I did not know that God had so ordained it in his mercy, and that my poor prayers had been so graciously listened to; for after the course of some years the princess and all the persons who had accompanied her, fell away to the Popish religion. But at the time I was much troubled to be obliged to return; I thought they might imagine I had not comported myself right, and I also feared to be brought again under the severe discipline of my father.

"But the Duke of Holstein had obtained Wiesenburg from Saxony, which was about ten miles from Leipzig and one from Zwickau, and dwelt there, so it pleased the duchess to keep me with her. I practised myself in all kinds of accomplishments, so that I was much liked; in dancing, too, I excelled others, so that these vanities were dear and pleasing to me; I had also a real liking for splendid dress and the like trifles, because it became me well, and I was much commended by every one. Never did any one tell me that it was not right, but, on the contrary, praised me for these vanities, and considered me godly because I liked to read and pray, and went to church and was often able to give a good account of all the main points of the sermon; I even knew what had been preached upon the same text the preceding year. I was looked upon as a godly maiden both by spiritual and worldly persons, yet I pursued my course with worldly thoughts, and was not really a true follower of Christ.

"Then it was ordained by God's mercy that the son of a lieutenant-colonel, of the family of Brettwitz, fell in love with me; and when, through the medium of his father, he asked me in marriage of my royal master and mistress, and of my deceased father, they all replied yes; but that he must first serve a year as a cornet, and then have his father's company, who was lieutenant-colonel under the Elector of Saxony. Now when he went forth to the war, I heard from others that he did not lead a godly, but a worldly life; then I was secretly troubled and threw myself on my face before God, and prayed that either his spirit or our engagement might be changed. But I did not know that the Most High had brought this to pass, that I might be preserved from other noble marriages, for I was then still very young, and had many opportunities of marrying, all of which I escaped through this betrothal, though on his side he had thought of many others, and engaged himself here and there in that foreign country. This lasted several years, during which I experienced much secret sorrow, which threw a damp over the pleasures of the world. In the course of these years, Brettwitz was always changing his mind, fixing his thoughts upon others, and when nothing came of it, he turned again to me, and wrote about constancy, all which I committed to the Most High, and sought to unite myself closer to God. Hence much refreshment from the Holy Scriptures was imparted to me, sometimes in sleep through holy dreams, in which I powerfully spoke out the words of Scripture, and thereupon awoke, so that my companion, who had a godly heart, was often sore troubled that she could not experience the like. I always comforted her by saying that she should regard me as a child that required to be enticed by her father, but that she was so confirmed in faith she would have no need of such enticement. And this came from my heart, for I saw well that my joyous spirit drew me to the world, but my God drew me again to Him by his love.

"At last he who had been so changeable came home and visited our Court. But my spiritual condition did not please him, because he thought so much Bible reading would not befit a soldier's wife: he would have been glad if I would have renounced him, as his father knew of a rich marriage for him in Dresden, if he could with decency free himself from me; but he did not like to be called faithless, so he would fain have thrown the blame upon me. I remained quiet, however, and did not mind him, but trusted to my Heavenly Father, who would order all aright. Now there was one, named von Fresen, who would fain have warned me, thinking I did not observe that the said Brettwitz was not acting uprightly; so he wrote me a letter, for he had no opportunity of speaking to me, as I was always with my duchess in her room. This letter fell into the hands of the said Brettwitz, who thought to find therein great evidence upon which to accuse me, either of having an affection for another, or of courting others. His father, who was then present, also thought that it would be a good opportunity, and that they might with a good grace enter upon the rich marriage; so he went to the duke and showed him the letter as proof that others were wooing me, and therefore his son neither could nor would entertain any further hopes of me, but would seek happiness elsewhere. It vexed the duke much to hear such things of me, who had hitherto, to their great astonishment, repelled all advances. It grieved me much that my royal master and mistress should thus think of me. But when I went to my room weeping, the words came into my mind, 'What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter;' from these I derived consolation. When on the following day the letter was read correctly, it appeared that in it the writer complained that he had never been able to gain an opportunity of speaking with me, and declaring his honourable love, and that I kept myself in reserve for a person who was false, rejecting the love of others. Thus it became known that I was innocent, and the Brettwitzes could not get out of it in that way. The duke and duchess then asked me what my wishes were, as it must now be decided. Then I begged that Brettwitz might not be driven to marry me. Thereupon the said von Brettwitz sent two cavaliers to me in order to learn how I was minded towards him, and whether he was still to wait some time for his happiness. But I gave him liberty, as far as I was concerned, to seek his happiness where he liked; for I felt no longer bound to retain my affection for one so faithless, who, if possible, would have made me out guilty of want of fidelity. Thereupon he paid me the false compliment of saying that he regretted the misunderstanding: and it was then settled that he was to make no further pretensions to me. The rich marriage, however, did not take place, and later he became paralytic.

"Thus I was relieved from this burden, and I had become so strong in spirit that I did not entertain any further thoughts of marriage. I always felt that amongst the nobility there were many evil habits which were quite contrary to Christianity--first, because they had more opportunities of drinking; and secondly, that for every thoughtless word they must endanger body and soul, if they would not be disgraced. I reflected deeply on this, that they should dare to imagine themselves Christians, and yet live quite contrary to the doctrines of Christ; and that it never occurred to them once to abstain from such proceedings. This took away from me all disposition to marry; for although I knew some fine natures that had a horror of all these vices, yet I thought that one's descendants would be exposed to the same dangers. Still I felt I ought not to take a husband from another class, as my deceased father thought much of his ancient family.

"But God continued to impart more grace to me; and I became acquainted in Frankfort with a truly godly man. For when my noble master and mistress were travelling to the baths at Emser, a stranger was on board the vessel in which we went. By God's special providence he seated himself next me, and we fell into a spiritual discourse which lasted some hours, so that the four miles from Frankfort to Mayence, where he disembarked, appeared to me only a quarter of an hour. We talked without ceasing, and it seemed just as if he read my heart. Then I gave vent to all, concerning which I had hitherto lived in doubt. Indeed I found in this friend what I had despaired of ever finding in any man in the world. Long had I looked around me to discover whether there might be any true doers of the Word, and it had been a stumbling-block to me that I could find none. But when I perceived in this man such great penetration, that he could see into the very recesses of my heart, also such humility, gentleness, holy love, and earnestness to teach the way of truth, then I was truly comforted and much strengthened.[80] Then was my heart filled with godly convictions, and I felt an ever-increasing distaste to the world: and I said to myself, 'Shall I defraud my spiritual nature for the sake of contemptible transitory pleasures? No; I will by God's help prevail, let it cost what it may.' I wrote thereupon to the friend who had imparted to me so many godly gifts, that I loved him as a father, and that I purposed to loosen myself from all worldly ties. He was, moreover, fearful that I should not have strength enough to bear all that I should meet with. But the parable of the five foolish virgins and other similar salutary passages of Holy Writ were ever in my heart, and they impelled me to give up the pleasures of the world; yet I felt a fear of my master and mistress which I could not conquer. Then I frequently danced with tears in my eyes, and knew not how to help myself. 'Ah,' thought I frequently, 'if I were but the daughter of a herdsman, I should not be blamed for living in the simplicity of Christ's teaching. No one would mind me.' But when I became conscious that no position could excuse me, I determined that nothing should be a hindrance to me either in life or death. I therefore went to my duchess, and begged for my dismissal. This was refused; but, as she wished to know what had moved me to this, I told her openly, that the life I was obliged to lead at court was against my conscience. Then did my dear duchess try to divert my mind from this, looked upon it as a fit of melancholy, and said, 'You always live like a virtuous maiden, and read and pray assiduously; you see also that others who are good Christians do the like things; they are not forbidden if the heart is not set upon them.' But I pointed out to her the example of Christ and his word; I did not judge other men, but could not be content to follow their example. As now my dear duchess saw that she could not change my mind, she promised to excuse me everything that I felt to be contrary to my conscience, only she would have me remain with her and perform my duties in all other respects as before. But I represented that she would be deprived of much service by this, especially when strangers came, when it might easily happen that the other maiden should fall sick, then she would be without attendance, because I would not be present at appointed gaieties, and that would give occasion for ridicule. She would not, however, be deterred from her object, but promised me faithfully that I should be relieved from all attendance at mere amusements. Then she mentioned it to the duke, who contended with me sharply, and said it was the suggestion of the devil, that I, who was a young lady, beloved by high and low, should expose myself to so much contempt, that I should be considered a fool; besides, what would my relatives say? Now, when all this persuasion was of no avail, they sent several clergymen to me, who tried to persuade me that I did not rightly understand the words of Scripture. But I put it to their consciences which of these two ways was safest: to follow after the footsteps of Christ in all simplicity, or, while enjoying worldly pleasures, merely to talk of it and treat it with respect, yet doing otherwise. Then they said that the first would certainly be the best; but who could so live?--we were all sinful men. Then I replied, 'It is commanded me to choose the better way, and as to the power of doing it, I left that to my God,' Then they left me in peace.

"They now tried to move me in another way, by ridicule. For at the royal table they often looked at one another, and then at me, laughing amongst themselves; they often said also that it was not becoming a woman of the bedchamber to read the Bible so much, she would become too clever. But I let them jeer. When this had gone on almost a year, during which I was treated with contempt by even the most insignificant at the court, excepting some pious souls, whilst I thought little of suffering for Christ's sake, there was a sudden change. The great and glorious God brought such fear into all hearts, the highest as well as the lowest, that they did not venture to say or do anything wrong in my presence; although they did not fear the court preachers, yet before me they were quiet, and the otherwise wild young people controlled themselves when they saw me coming. Then did tears come into my eyes, whilst I thought within myself, 'Oh, wonderful God, with what power have I been enabled to bring it to pass, that both great and small fear to do wrong in my presence!' This thought did not puff up my heart, but led me to humility; I poured out my soul before God, as I had experienced his power, and saw that He could turn the hearts of princes like the waters of a rivulet. In this condition of things I continued yet three years at court, and I can truly say that I experienced much kindness, not alone from my dear master and mistress, but from every one: but by God's grace I did not accept many favours from the great, nor employ them upon temporal things.

"Having then for three years lived at court in all simplicity, and rejected all transitory pleasures, whereby the body, and not the spirit, is recreated, it came to pass that my deceased father required me to keep his house, as my stepmother had died in childbed, and the child was still alive, and so I was called from court. It was, however, very difficult for me to obtain my dismissal, as my dear duchess loved me as if I were her child, and lamented my departure with many tears: she even sent after me to beg I might return, and did not desist till I promised that if I ever returned to court I should consider myself bound to them before all others. But when I came home I found that the child had meanwhile died, and my father had determined to become high steward of the Princess von Philippseck. Thus I was free to settle myself with a noble and godly widow, Baurin von Eyseneck--her maiden name was Hinsbergen--whose manner of life was known to every one in Frankfort, and whose end was blessed. With her I was six years, and we loved one another as though of one heart and soul.

"About this period, being in danger of shipwreck, the Lord so mightily strengthened me, that I was joyful while others trembled and desponded. It happened that I was on the passage-boat from Frankfort to Hanau going to visit my sister; there were divers people on board, among them some soldiers, who were carrying on very coarse and improper jokes with poor women. I was sorrowful that these people were so entirely unmindful of their souls, and, leaning against the side of the vessel, endeavoured to sleep that I might not hear such talk. In my sleep I dreamt of the sentence in Psalm xiv., 'The Lord looked down from heaven upon the children of men.' Upon this I awoke, and in waking it appeared to me as if a great storm of wind turned the ship round; then was I terrified and thought within myself, 'Art thou really awake? What is thy state of mind?' Not a quarter of an hour afterwards there came a mighty whirlwind which took hold of the ship. We were in very great danger, so that all cried out with anguish, and called upon the name of Jesus for help--He whom they had so often before named carelessly in their frivolous jesting. Then did God open my mouth, to make them feel how good it is to walk in the fear of the Lord, and that He is a refuge in the time of trouble. When now the Most High mercifully laid the unexpected storm, one of the women was so impudent as to say jestingly, that our ship would have been overwhelmed by the waves, 'but, as there is a saint on board, we have been saved;' so saying she laughed loud, whereupon I became much excited, and said, 'You impudent woman, think you that the hand of the Lord could not reach us?' And scarcely had I closed my mouth, when the former wind rose again, a leak appeared in the boat, and all gave up hope of life; but I felt an unusual joy, and thought, 'Shall I now see my Jesus? What will now remain in the water? Nothing but the mortal--that which has so often hindered me. That which has been life in me will never die,' &c., &c. The ship was already filling with water; all the caulking and pumping was of no avail; the storm also held on, so that it was impossible to turn to the land, either on the right or left hand, and we thought that the ship would sink; but all at once the wind was lulled, and the ship reached the shore. Then did all spring out of the ship, and the wild soldiers who had been moved by my words, looked after me with great care, so that I came well to land, and thanked God that I had been able to speak to their hearts.

"When I had been about a year with the widow Baurin, my dear master and mistress heard that my father no longer needed me, so my dear mistress wrote, herself, to me to return and resume my service; she would send the carriage for me and give me double salary, and I was to be called mistress of the robes; but I excused myself by saying that I must take charge of my father's property, and therefore be often present there. But when I had passed six years with dear Frau Baurin, it was ordained by the Most High God that my dear husband, who had seen me some years before at Frankfort, began to think of marrying me; he gave at Lübeck a commission to a certain person to speak to me concerning it, who did it, but after some time had passed, for want of an opportunity. But when I first heard it, I could not think of marrying, and after offering up my prayers to God, I sat down and wrote to this effect, and suggested to him another very excellent person. But my dear husband would not be deterred, and wrote to my dear friend, also to sundry distinguished ecclesiastics, and to my deceased father. This letter I at first retained, till my conscience constrained me to deliver it to my father, as it had no other aim than to serve to the glory of God. Then I wrote and sent him the letter, and at the same time remained as calm as if it were nothing concerning myself. All the contents of the letter to my father were unknown to me, and I did not think that my deceased father would give his consent. But when his answer came--wherein he wrote that he had many reasons for not wishing me so far from him in his old age, and had never yet made up his mind to allow his child to marry below her station, yet he could not withstand the will of God,--it went to my heart, and I thought it must be of God, because my father's heart had been touched beyond all expectation. He left the matter to my disposal, which I did not, however, agree to, but submitted it entirely to his will. My brother-in-law, von Dorfield, high steward at the court of Hanau, was much against it, but my deceased father answered him in a most Christian spirit,[81] that it was not good for us, of the evangelical faith, to esteem the clergy so little, as the Papists held their priests so high; further, that his daughter was not suited to a worldly man; that she would not marry inconsiderately out of her class, as was known to every one. But God had called me to this vocation. They were therefore obliged to be quiet, and my father gave his consent.

"Thereupon my dear husband came to Frankfort, and we were married on the 7th September, 1680, by D. Spener, in the presence of her Highness the Princess von Philippseck, my father, and some noble persons of distinction; there were about thirty, and everything went off in such a quiet and Christian manner, that every one was pleased. But the demon of calumny could not refrain from his malice; it vexed his tools that the marriage was not accompanied by eating and drinking and wild doings, after the manner of the world. Then they invented this lie, that the Holy Spirit had appeared in the chamber in which we were married, in a form of fire, and that we had interpreted the Revelation of St. John. Such lies were also reported to the Rev. Dr. Heiler, who had been himself at our wedding. But when he contradicted them, and stated that he had been present, that nothing had passed but what was truly Christian, they were ashamed of their lies."

Thus far the wife. The narration of the husband forms a supplement to hers. But first we will give his account of his youth, and of his experiences as shepherd of souls. Dr. Johann Wilhelm Petersen begins thus:--

"I was born in the renowned city of Osnabrück, on the 1st of June, 1649, after the conclusion of the peace of Westphalia, where my father, George Petersen, had been sent from Lubeck on business concerning the peace. When I grew older, my parents sent me to the Latin school at Lubeck. They never had to force me to study, for I paid attention to all my lessons, and concealed candles, in order that I might thus study whilst others slept. I then also copied divers small books, as I could not obtain printed copies. But I more especially applied myself to prayer, as I had seen my mother do, after I had heard from her that one could obtain everything from God through prayer, on which account I always, before I began my studies, called upon God to bless them. And once, when I was in want of money to buy a certain book, I went to St. Mary's Church, placed myself on the long stools before the altar, and prayed to God to grant me wherewith to buy the desired book. Now when I had knelt down and finished my prayer, behold there lay a heap of money on the bench before which I had knelt; this strengthened me much. But when, in consequence, I wished to make a custom of it, and again sought to obtain money by prayer, through the wise guidance of God I found nothing, for He only hears us when in childlike simplicity we appear before Him without any after-thought. But yet once, when about to be punished, I turned to God in prayer, and punishment was averted.

"Now when I came to the third class, I had been very diligent; therefore the Herr Conrector put the others to shame by my example, and said that I had surpassed them all and gained the crown, and, as he expressed himself, would throw sand into their eyes. This vexed the scholars much, and excited their envy; they painted a crown in my book, and strewed it thick with sand, with this inscription: 'This is Petersen's crown, and the sand he would cast in our eyes.' At last I was afraid to repeat my lesson too readily, though I had learnt it thoroughly, lest I should be beaten by the other scholars. When I was removed into the first class, I found there excellent preceptors. At this period I put many verses in print, especially on the death of my dearly beloved mother. I also delivered two orations on the restoration of peace at Lubeck; and the Choice of Hercules. In 1669 I went to the University of Giessen.

"When I had become master of arts at Giessen, I was much loved by the professors, and also was, as far as lay in my power, on terms of friendship with every one. Then was Dr. Spener, of Frankfort, strongly recommended to me; therefore I resolved to go to Frankfort to visit him, in order to see whether the reality came up to the praise. I found him far superior to what I had heard; his was quite a different life and character to what I had seen in general I had indeed, after my fashion, feared God and loved the Holy Scriptures; but by the light of my merely worldly learning these were very obscure to me, so that when I presided at a disputation I feared many passages of Scripture which were brought against me by others. Now I became aware how important it was to understand rightly the spiritual meaning of the Holy Scriptures, and that the learning was not worth much which could be obtained by mere human industry.

"There came at that time to Frankfort, for the purpose of enjoying the friendship and intercourse with the Rev. Dr. Spener, a noble lady, who had formerly been maid of honour at a court; and as I desired much to have, if only for once, some talk with her, I begged the reverend doctor to give me her address in a note. This he did, and I went to her, and presented her with my last disputation, under the impression that it would not be disagreeable to her, as she had learnt Hebrew and had much acquaintance with the Holy Scriptures. But she told me that I had therein glorified 'the god Petersen,' and that, for a true knowledge of God in Christ, far more was required than such worldly learning, which produced generally a boastful spirit, and whereby one could hardly attain to the godly simplicity of heavenly things. This speech sank deep into my heart, and I was at once convinced of the truth of it. After that I began to write a little book, wherein I noted down what I heard from pious people concerning the way to true godliness; and I began to practise what I had thus learnt, for without this effectual working all else would be fruitless.

"Now when I had been strengthened in this course, I went back to Giessen, where the change in me was soon perceived; and they began to ridicule me on account of my 'piety.' But I cared little for it."

(Petersen afterwards returned to his home, at Lubeck, and became there professor of poetry, but met with great enmity from the Jesuits. In 1677 he became preacher at Hanover; and was called from thence, in 1678, to Cutin, as the court preacher to the Duke of Holstein.)

"But I had not been long court preacher at Cutin, when it happened that 500 thalers were stolen out of the room of one of the gentlemen of the bedchamber. In order to recover his money he went to a hereditary blacksmith,[82] at the village of Zernikaw, that he might 'knock out the thief's eye;' and in order that the smith might do it better he let him know, through an einspänner,[83] that the bishop desired it, which was not the case. When the smith is to perform a work of this kind he must prepare a nail three successive Sundays, and on the last Sunday strike this nail into a head made for the purpose; whereupon the thief, as they say, will lose his eye. He must, also, at midnight rise up naked, and go backwards to a hut which he has newly built in an open field, and go up to a large new bellows; take it and blow out the fire with it; upon this two large hell-hounds will appear. This performance having taken place in the night of the first Sunday, the villagers of Zernikaw came to me to complain, as the whole village had no rest for this terrible howling, which they had heard in the smithy, and said I ought to make it known to the duke, that he might stop this wicked work. I told them that these were important things which they had related to me; and asked, seriously, whether the affair was really such as they represented it. They answered that the whole village could bear witness of it, and that the einspänner had empowered the smith to do it. Thereupon I went to the bishop[84] (with whom, as it so happened, the gentleman of the bedchamber then was), and I told him I wished to say something to him privately. When I had related all to him he was horrified, sought for further information concerning the matter, and learnt that the einspänner had enjoined the smith to do this in the bishop's name; then he inquired of me what was to be done. I replied that, as his name had been misused for these public wicked proceedings, it was necessary that the hut, which had been built in honour of the devil, should be destroyed in the name of God; this was approved of. Thereupon I proceeded to do it; the boys from the school, noble pages, and many noblemen accompanied me to destroy the work of the devil. The smith had already run away, but his wife came and begged that she might be allowed to keep the new bellows and the iron utensils. But I said she ought to be ashamed of herself to desire to keep among her things what the devil had handled; whereupon she desisted from her petition. But the noble pages set fire to and burnt the hut and bellows, and cast the iron work into deep water. Now there came some merchants, travelling from Hamburgh, who looked on and listened to my discourse. It was just during the period of Christmas, so I took the passage, 'Behold a house of God among men,' and explained it shortly, but said in direct application: 'Behold a house of the devil among the Zernikawers. This is the place where formerly the idol of the Holsteiners, Zernebog, was worshipped, who wishes again to install himself; but has been driven away by the injunction of the bishop.' At the catechising, also, at which the duke, with his court, were in the habit of attending, I made an impressive speech, saying that the thief must be among the court; also that there were conjectures afloat as to who it was, and that if the thief would bring me this money, I called God to witness, I would not betray him. So the thief, at night, would have laid down the stolen money in the churchyard near my house, but could not because the gentleman of the bedchamber had placed his people there to catch the thief. Thus he himself prevented the restoration. The bishop was very angry with the gentleman of the bedchamber, who was obliged to leave the court. But he uttered menaces against me, because I had disgraced him in my sermon, having said that his name, which the smith must have mentioned in his proceedings, would be known by the devils in hell, and that he should take care not to get there himself. But I did not care for his threats, but trusted myself to my God and my office.

"The courtiers, however, leagued themselves against me; they sided almost all with the court mareschal, a Mecklenburger. But the mareschal sought out all kinds of occasions against the duchess and her maid of honour, Naundorf, and made the duke imagine that the duchess followed the advice of Naundorf in everything, and thereby the duke was irritated against the duchess. But, as I was not in their league, the court mareschal asked me in the public saloon, to which party I belonged, the great or the little. By the great party, they meant themselves. I answered that I was on the side of God and justice. The mareschal replied, that they would soon shorten my cloak for me. Now as I perceived that the ill will of the duke to the duchess continued increasing, I went to him, and spoke persuasively to him, that he should not be so alienated from his wife, as those who desired it sought only their own interests. Thereupon the duke went with me to the duchess, and they became reconciled in my presence; and I, as it were, united them again. The bishop told me to keep this secret; but from this time he noted the intrigues of the court mareschal and dismissed him.

"There was also another evil business, for a nobleman of the illustrious court of Plön quarrelled with a nobleman of our court, and they challenged one another. As soon as I discovered this I went to this sheep of my flock, and pointed out to him what an unchristian thing duelling was, as Christ had commanded us to love our enemies. He told me he would take care the quarrel was adjusted, so I was in some measure reassured. But at dawn of day on the morrow, I heard a troop of horses passing by my house, and it occurred to me that the devil was going to have his pastime with this sheep of my flock. I rose, awoke my servant, and as, from my great haste, I could not get a carriage, I went after them on foot. When I had gone a mile I heard some shots at a distance, the signal of the arrival of both parties at their respective places. But I thought that they had already exchanged shots, so I fell down on my knees and prayed God that neither of them might murder the other. Then I ran on, guided by the footprints of the horses, which I could easily see, as many of the Holstein junkers had accompanied my sheep; and as I found them both ready to commence the duel, I went up to my sheep and advised him to abstain from this evil deed. But his opponent thought that he had settled with me to do this, which I denied most solemnly; I also spoke persuasively to the others from the Plönish court. But neither of them would be reconciled. Then said I, 'Now, if you will not, may God make such an example of you both, together with the others that have come here for this duel, as may show his wrath in the eyes of the whole world.' Yet in my heart I wished that they might be preserved from it. Then God so ordained, that the seconds persuaded them and they became reconciled; and I got a carriage which conveyed me back to the house. Who could be more joyful than I, who had deprived the devil of a roast? Nevertheless, the Holstein noblesse were disposed in their hearts to speak evil concerning it, and observed to my lord that in future he would get no honourable cavalier to sit at his table. He, also, in the beginning, was inclined to speak ill of me; and for this reason, because I had followed them on foot. Then one of the equerries came to me and said that my lord had been so offended by my bad conduct that he had taken to his bed. I answered, by the time he rises from his bed he will find that I have done nothing but what was required of me by my duty as a faithful shepherd. Thereupon my lord sent for me, and I showed him that his table could not be adorned by those who opposed themselves to Christ. If I was so watchful and faithful towards a servant, how much more would I be so towards my lord himself. Then was my lord, who truly feared God, quite softened. Soon after, the Duke von Plön visited our court; and my heart feared his reproaches on account of what I had done; but he commended me, and, on the other hand, blamed his court preacher, who had been so near the duellists and had known the affair, yet had not stirred a foot in it. This pleased my lord much, and he thereupon caused a severe edict to be published against duelling.

"Up to this period I remained unmarried, and should have continued so if my dear father had not exhorted me to marry. A patrician lady had already been suggested to me at Lubeck, who met me in her smartest attire, and whom my father would have been glad for me to marry; but she was too fine for me, and I said that she would hardly suit a clergyman. If I was to marry, no one would suit me better than Fräulein von Merlan, who would not be a hindrance to me in my office; but I was shy about paying my addresses to her, lest she should think I had on this account sought her acquaintance at Frankfort. But some one who was going to Frankfort undertook to tell her my wishes; my love, however, would not give an answer to him who wooed her for me; but she wrote to me, that, though she had no engagement, still she was not at liberty to answer yes; and she proposed to me another young docterin in Frankfort, who was more highly gifted, and would suit me well; but I answered, either she or none, and wrote immediately to Herr Doctor Spener, that he might persuade her to consent. I wrote also to her noble father, who knew me, as I had once been at the Philippseck court, where he was high steward, and preached before his duke. He answered me, that though he had never had an idea of giving his daughter to one who was not of noble family, yet, he did not know how it happened, he was so troubled in mind when he wished to refuse his consent, that he thought it must be the will of God that he should entrust his daughter to the Superintendent Petersen; therefore, he sent herewith his fatherly yes. This letter was sent me by my love, Johanna, and Doctor Spener congratulated me. Who could be more joyful than I when I found that my prayer had been heard? for I had knelt in prayer to my God, that he might interpose to prevent the marriage if it were not his will, but if it were, that he would so trouble the father's mind that he could not withstand it. When, therefore, I read in the father's letter that he had been thus troubled, I perceived that this was what God had intended from all eternity. Then did I travel joyfully by Hamburg to Frankfort, where the bans were published, and I was afterwards married by Herr Doctor Spener.

"In 1685, the holy Revelation which God made through his angel in certain visions to the Apostle and Evangelist John was disclosed in a wonderful way to me and my love. Formerly I had always feared to read such a book, because it was generally considered that it was a sealed book, which no one could understand. But on a certain day I was powerfully moved, and led by my God to read this book, and on the same day and at the same hour, without my knowing it, my love felt the same impulse, and began to read the book, equally not knowing that I had felt a like impulse. Now, when I had gone to my study to note down something that I had discovered, from the accordance of the prophet Daniel with the thirteenth chapter of the Book of Revelation--what the beast and the little horn were--behold, my love came there and told me how she had seriously undertaken to read the holy book, and what she had found therein, and this harmonised with mine, which I showed her, as I had written it down, and the ink was not dry. Then were we mutually amazed, and agreed we would confer together at the end of a month, and observe what we had further found; but we could not withhold it, when we discovered anything singular and of undoubted truth; and it so happened that what she and I found was always precisely the same. We rejoiced much thereat, and thanked God in all simplicity that He had so invigorated us both by his enlightening spirit, as to be able to know the future fate of the church, and to bear witness thereof. For a long time we kept it to ourselves, till we made acquaintance with the Fraulein Rosamunda Juliana von der Asseburg, who, in her testimony, had borne witness to the same, yet not from searching the Holy Scriptures, but by extraordinary grace vouchsafed her from above. Herewith I must also note what happened to my love when she was eighteen, which I here set down in her own words:--'I dreamt that the numerals 1685 were written in golden ciphers on the heaven; on my right I saw a man who pointed to the numbers and said to me, "See at that time will great things happen, and somewhat shall be revealed unto you." Now, it was in this year, 1685, that the great persecution took place in France, and in the same year was the blessed millennial kingdom of the Apocalypse revealed to me and my dear husband, at the same hour; and, without one knowing of the other, did both our treatises so coincide, that we were ourselves amazed at it We were therefore, by divine guidance, convinced of the truth of what we had discovered in Holy Scripture concerning the kingdom of our King. And later we imparted to others in all simplicity our discovery, not caring when learned and unlearned alike gainsaid it.'"

Here we end the narrative of Petersen. They passed the first years of their marriage in peace. He had once accidentally placed his thumb on the passage--"Sarah shall bear a son;" the year following he was made happy by Johanna Eleonora bringing a son into the world, who was, indeed, small at his birth, but who shortly afterwards raised his head in a wonderful way out of his little bed and gave other delightful signs that he would become something remarkable and pleasing in the sight of the Lord. He did actually become, later, a Royal Russian Councillor, and was able to protect his dear parents when the millennial kingdom made their life full of cares; for, alas! it was not granted to them to keep the great light which had been kindled at the same time in both, under a bushel. It would have been better for their earthly comfort had they done so.

What the worthy couple learned from the Revelation, combined with numerous passages from the Bible--in reading which they were assisted by earnest prayer, followed by divine inspiration--was remarkable. The Millennium was not already come, but was approaching. It was to begin, at no very distant time, by the return of Christ on earth; when this should take place, a portion of the dead would rise; in great periods of thousands of years, the whole human race, living and dead, were to attain salvation; the Calvinists and Lutherans were to be united, and all Jews and heathen converted; then all even the worst sinners would be redeemed from hell; and, last of all, the devil himself brought out of his miserable condition, and, through repentance and penance, changed again into an angel; but this last would only be at the end of 50,000 years: from that time there would be endless bliss, love and joy. They were inclined to think that the beginning of this glorious time would be from 1739 to 1740.

In the year 1688, Petersen accepted the appointment of Superintendent at Luneburg. They considered it as a special providence that he had been called there, because once, in passing through on a journey, he had preached a beautiful sermon which had given much satisfaction; but in Luneburg he found many orthodox opponents who vexed and irritated him, and some mocked him on account of the opinions which he held concerning the millennial kingdom. They were, besides, injured by the intimacy with the Fraulein Rosamunda von der Asseburg, whose violent excitement and nervous exaltation had created a great sensation. The tender and innocent character of the maiden captivated both the Petersens; they supported the divine nature of her revelations, and defended her in the press, especially as the dear maiden revealed exactly the same concerning the already-mentioned return of the Lamb of God which had been disclosed to them. The private devotions which they held with the sick maiden gave great offence to the worldly-minded, and they were maliciously calumniated. When Petersen once was in great danger of drowning on the Elbe, he thought himself like the prophet Jonas, who was cast by the Lord into the body of a whale because he would not proclaim the secret of the Lord's word; and in this hour of danger he vowed that henceforth he would no longer conceal from the world his great secret. And he honestly kept his word. The millennial kingdom, and the return of the Lamb, were brought forward incessantly in his sermons. His hearers were amazed, his opponents denounced him, and he was removed from his office in 1692. They both bore this misfortune with love and trust in God.

From that time they passed their life in travelling about and writing books, in visits to those who were like-minded, and in constant disputes with the orthodox. They became to the multitude like persons of evil repute, to whom calumny and ill-natured gossip seemed to cling; they were obliged usually to keep their names secret on their journeys; but never were they wanting in warm patrons and friends. In the castles of princes, in the houses of the nobles, among the city authorities, and in the rooms of artisans, they found admirers. More than all others was Kniphausen, the President of the Supreme Court of Justice, their protector. The year Petersen was dismissed, he obtained for them a pension from the court of Berlin, and granted them a house at Magdeburg; other patrons also sent them money, and gave them recommendations, so that they were in a position to buy a small property at Magdeburg. They were, nevertheless, annoyed by the peasants and the clergymen of the place, and by denunciations in Berlin; but the Queen herself maintained intercourse with the proclaimer of a revelation so full of hope, and rejoiced that he promised salvation finally to the wicked. Thus he remained safe, though, indeed, the harmless proclaimer of a coming kingdom of glory was in danger of being deceived by wolves in sheep's clothing for among the pious people travelling about there were many deceivers. Once there came a troop of mendicant students, who maintained that they were Pietists, and demanded donations; then an adventurer desired instruction, having heard that every one who allowed himself to be converted would receive ten thalers. At last there came a false officer, who, in the absence of the husband, under the pretence of being a follower of the Lamb, insinuated himself into the confidence of the Frau Doctorin, who, probably from an indelible recollection of her noble birth, was disposed to bear special goodwill to the distinguished believer; but the husband returned home, just in time to prevent the foreign deceiver persuading his guileless wife to give him a letter of recommendation. On a journey to Nuremberg, they were received into the Pegnitzer Blumen order--he as Petrophilus, she as Phœbe. Such success comforted them amid the flood of flying sheets that surged up against them. The true-hearted Petersen complained that every one rose up in controversy against him, to prove themselves orthodox, and be made doctors of theology; and when even the pious stumbled at his doctrine of the seven trumpets, or if they reproached him, that he had once, when the opportunity offered, reappeared in the character of the old professor of poetry, and had celebrated the coronation of Frederick I. of Prussia and other worldly events in Latin verses which flowed from him like water, he bore it with resignation. The last years of their life they dwelt in the pious district of Zerbst at Thymern, where they had obtained a property, as their former property at Nieder-Dodeleben had been too unquiet for them, and the peasants had become too hostile. In 1718, Petersen succeeded, by victorious disputations, in restoring to the Evangelical communion the Duke Moritz Wilhelm von Sachsen-Zeitz. They died at a great age--she in 1724, he in 1727.

After Spener had been removed to Berlin, the University of Halle became the intellectual centre of Pietism; it was there that the impassioned Franke, with his companions Breithaupt and Anton, led the theological party. Henceforth the youth were systematically trained in the faith of the Pietists; immense was the concourse of students; only Luther had collected a greater number at Wittemberg. At Halle the dangers of the new tendency were evident: the colleges became mere schools for the propagation of their views; industrious, patient labour in the paths of human science appeared almost superfluous; not only the controversial points of the orthodox, but all the dogmas of the Church were treated by many with indifference and contempt. The mind was overstrained by intense prayer and spiritual exercises. Instead of unruly lads who sharpened their backswords on a stone, and drank immense glasses of beer, "fioricos or hausticos," in one draught, pale fellows crept through the streets of the city in a state of inward abstraction, with vehement movements of the hands, and loud outcries. All the believers rejoiced over this wonderful manifestation of divine grace; but their opponents complained of the increasing melancholy, and of distractions of the spirit, and of nefarious proceedings of the worst kind. Vain were the warnings of the moderate Spener.

From Halle, Pietism spread to the other Universities. Wittemberg and Rostock withstood it long, and were for many years the last bulwarks of orthodoxy. Even at the courts this faith gained influence: it forced its way among the governments, and after 1700 filled the country churches of most of the German territories. And its dominion was not confined to Germany: an active intercourse with the pious of Denmark and Sweden, and the Sclavonian East, contributed to maintain the inward communion of these countries with the spiritual life of Germany, which lasted till the end of the century. Even the orthodox opponents were, without knowing it, transformed by this Pietism; the old scholastic disputes were silenced, and they endeavoured to defend their own point of view with greater dignity and learning.

Meanwhile the defects in the faith of the Pietists became greater, the deterioration more striking. Since the process of spiritual regeneration had become the secret act of a man's life, after which the whole soul morbidly strained, all the bliss of salvation depended on his admittance into the community of the pious. He who by a special act of God's grace was brought into the condition of regeneration, lived in a state of grace; his soul was guarded from all sin by the Lord; he breathed a purer and more heavenly atmosphere, secure of the mercy of the Lamb, already redeemed from sin here. But it was difficult for the more cultivated minds to go through this spiritual process: it did not prosper with all conscientious men, as it did with the jurist Johann Jacob Moser. Touching are the accounts delivered to us of the strivings of individuals, of the anguish and self-torture which fruitlessly ground down body and soul. Among the weaker we find every kind of self-delusion and hypocrisy. Very soon it became doubtful whether the regenerate was an enthusiast or a deceiver: occasionally he was both at the same time.

After Pietism had won the favour of persons of distinction and the governing powers, it became a remunerative concern, a fashionable thing, an assistance to very worldly objects. Generally those who received the holiest revelations were tender, weak natures, whom one could not suppose capable of the strenuous work which is necessary for worldly service; they lived at the cost of their patrons. The artisans were received into the society of the upper classes in order to assure their spiritual progress, and whoever desired protection, hastened as penitents to attend the meetings for edification, of some great lord, which they preferred holding in special chambers prepared for the purpose, rather than in the chapels of their castles. Sighs, groans, wringing the hands, and talk about illumination, became now here and now there a lucrative speculation. In the regenerate clergy, who held the souls of weak nobles and gentry in their hands, might be found all the faults peculiar to ambitious favourites, pride and mean selfishness. Soon also the morality of many came into ill repute, and when, after the decease of a devout lord, a society of ambitious Pietists were expelled, a feeling of malicious pleasure was generally excited.

Thus an opposition to Pietism arose on all sides, equally among the orthodox, the worldly, and the learned, and finally in the sound common sense of the people. How the judgment of the thoughtful against it was expressed in the first half of the eighteenth century shall here be shown by a short example.

The worthy Semler, of whom more details will be given later, relates among his youthful reminiscences the sorrowful fate of his brother Ernst Johann, who returned in a distracted state to his parental home, from the regenerate circle of Magister Brumhardt and of Professor Buddeus at the University of Jena. The passage gives such a good insight into the period of decaying Pietism, that it shall be given here with a few abbreviations.

"My brother was so habitually upright that he even mistrusted his own feelings. Easy though it was to many of the brotherhood to declare the day and the hour of their being sealed to redemption, which warranted their living in a state of pure, spiritual, heavenly joyfulness, and raised them to the rank of God's children, yet little could my brother forgive himself this spiritual falsehood; he could not coincide in what was so lightly and so repeatedly spoken of by others. He therefore fell into immoderate grief over the greatness of his sins, which were alone his hindrance; he not only prayed, but he moaned half the night before the Lord, but there was no change in his feelings. He seldom eat meat, no white or wheaten bread; he considered himself quite unworthy even of existence. Every night, when I had gone to sleep, he stole secretly out of bed, crept into the small adjoining library, knelt or lay down on the floor, and gradually lost, in his passionate emotions, all caution as to speaking softly and gently. His moaning and lamenting awoke me. I sought him out, and small confidence as I had in myself to produce any great effect--being as yet little advanced in conversion,--yet I repeated to him at intervals such beautiful lines and verses, both Greek and Hebrew, that he often embraced me and sighed, Haying, 'Ah, if this would but begin in me.' I answered sometimes hastily, that this was perversion instead of conversion, and how impossible it was for that way to be right and true, wherein one acted contrary to the intentions of God, and made one's-self into an utterly useless, helpless creature. 'Yes,' he said, 'that is what I am, and cannot sufficiently acknowledge it.' I talked with my mother, who wept over her son, who might now have been our mainstay, if he had not been spoilt by these false ideas. My father disapproved of all this still more strongly, and expatiated at such length from dogmatic and polemical divinity, that I could well see in what account he held these new spiritual institutions. Meanwhile he was obliged to be on his guard, for the whole Court were in favour of this party; many were undoubtedly very well-meaning Christians, but there were also undeniably many idlers and adventurers, who entered these institutions, and found their good, comfortable life very easy. All the evidence of their life in the flesh--which evidence was not rare nor imperceptible--was of no avail; who could succeed here? Occasionally there was a convert who lived in shame with his maidservant; it was not investigated, it was a calumny, and in case of necessity they placed him elsewhere, if his peasants were too Lutheran. By degrees my brother insinuated that my father also had not yet entered the narrow way, and that he could not be helped to it. They roamed about the woods day and night, so that moonlight devotion, which many now again recommend, is nothing new. They sang the new hymns together; the Duke often indeed gave the conveyances for these meetings, together with refreshments; nay, he often himself was the coachman, when he wished publicly to do honour to some old shoemakers' wives who had much faith, for the Saviour's sake. I am so far from wishing to exaggerate the state of things, that indeed I have not said all. The period for the annual pilgrimage came, for this custom had been retained from the old times and institutions of the monks. In many places the grace of the Saviour was supposed to dwell abundantly, almost visibly, and thither did the brothers and sisters make their pilgrimages, in reality contrary to the principle laid down by Christ, that neither Jerusalem nor Samaria was the special abiding-place of His spirit. Many of them brought their provisions with them. My brother assuredly did not travel to Ebersdorf without money, but brought nothing back, for he had bought this or that little book to give to the brothers as a memento. This enthusiasm had its real views, that aspired to great ends, although directly afterwards they were moderated, because the Philadelphian reckoning did not coincide with them. During these my brother's pious journeys, my mother died, for the remembrance of whom I daily bless my God. My brother found her in her coffin when he returned; he felt all the grief of a son, threw himself upon her, and lay there long, crying aloud, 'Ah, if I, useless creature, had but died in my mother's stead!' Now we obtained an entrance to his heart; this journey on foot had much weakened his hypochondria; the exhortations of the brotherhood called forth some ideas which he could not himself realize; he was to a certain extent calmed, or began to believe himself so. We represented to him that he must make his gifts serviceable to his fellow-men, however small they might be. He first took a situation as preceptor in a small orphan-house, and afterwards with Herr von Dieskau, who dwelt in a castle of that name, in the most beautiful country that one could select for oneself One portion of this old castle stands upon the city wall; under the wall there is a small footpath with a hedge planted as a protection against slipping, but just under this fragment of rock flows the Saale, sometimes very full and broad, but always deep enough to allow the passage of rafts and boats; from the castle the eye falls upon a half circle of wood and hills. Here my brother might perhaps have found rest and refreshment, but he did not live much longer."

Here we close Sender's narrative. He himself became infected later by the prevailing spiritual tendency, and he strove, whilst still a youth, after regeneration, but the powerful tone of his mind enabled him to recover. The state of the times also helped to bring this about.

The year 1740 was fatal to Pietism. The new King of Prussia was as averse to the Pietists, as his father had been favourable to them. Almost at the same time they ceased to prevail in the Saxon courts. The time of enlightenment now began; the nation pursued another path; the "Stillen im lande" only existed as an isolated community. The association of brothers, of Count Zinzendorf, for a longer period developed a praiseworthy missionary activity in foreign countries, but they ceased to influence the stream of German life, which now began to flow on with a deeper and more powerful current.

Pietism had drawn together large numbers of individuals; it had raised them from the narrowness of mere family life, it had increased in the soul the longing after a deeper spiritual aim, it had introduced new forms of intercourse; here and there the strong distinctions of classes had been broken through, and it had called forth greater earnestness and more outward propriety in the whole nation, but it had not strengthened national union. He who gave himself up to it with zeal, was in great danger of withdrawing himself, with those who were like-minded, from the great stream of life, and of looking down from his solitude, like the shipwrecked man from his island, on the great waste of waters around him.

The new scientific development also produced, at first, only individual men of learning; then a free culture; after that a nation, which dared to struggle and to die, and finally to live, for its independence.

CHAPTER VI.

THE DAWNING OF LIGHT.

(1750.)

From the German cities, on the boundaries betwixt guild labour and free invention, did the art of printing come into the world--the greatest acquisition of the human race, after that of the alphabet. The mind of man could now be conveyed, bound up in wood and leather, upon a thousand roads at the same time, all over the earth; the powers of man in church and state, in science and handicraft, were unfolded, not only more powerfully, more variously, and more richly, but in a totally different manner from the quiet plodding of the past. A change was produced in nations in one century which formerly would have taken a thousand years. Every individual was bound together in one great intellectual unity with his contemporaries, and every nation with other civilized nations. For the first time a regular connection in the intellectual development of the human race was secured. The mind of the individual will continue to live upon earth perhaps many thousand years after he has ceased to breathe; but the soul of each individual nation gains a capacity of renovating itself which will, we hope, remove its decease, according to the old laws of nature, to an incalculable distance.

The black art had not been invented many years when a spring-tide arose in the soul. From the study of the Latin writers, the humanitarians proclaimed, with transport, how much there had been of the beautiful and the grand in the ancient world. Eagerly did they maintain the treasure of noble feelings, which had fallen on their souls from the distant past, against the coarse or corrupt life that they beheld around them. With the holy book in their hands, pious ecclesiastics contended for the words of Scripture, against the despotism of Rome and the false traditions of the Church. By thousands of books written by themselves, they raised the consciences of the people, for the greatest spiritual struggle that had ever taken place since the Star of Bethlehem had appeared to the human race; and again through thousands of books, after the first victory, they consecrated anew for their people all earthly relations, the duties and rights of men, of the family, and of the governing powers, as the first educators and teachers of the great multitude.

But it was not the pleasure derived from the ancient poets and statues, nor the mighty struggle which was carried on concerning the teaching of the Church, nor the theologians and the philologists of the sixteenth century, that were the greatest blessings bestowed by the new art; it is not they alone that have given richness to thought, and security to judgment, and made love and hatred greater. This was brought about in yet another way--through the medium of types and woodcuts; slowly, imperceptibly, to contemporaries, but to us wonderfully.

Men learnt gradually a different mode of seeing, observing, and judging. Sharp as was the mental activity of individuals in the middle ages, the impressions which were conveyed to their minds from the outer world were too easily distorted by the activity of their imagination, which united dreams, forebodings, and immature combinations with the object. Now the distinct black upon white was always at work, to give a durable, unvarying report of multitude of new conceptions upon the mutual relations of the State, and the position held in it by the individual man. How various have been the lawgivers who have dominated over the lives of individuals--the Jewish priests, the community of apostles, the Jurist schools of ancient Rome, the Longobard kings and the ambitious popes; and, again, together with laws which had originated in past ages and nations, there were the reminiscences from German antiquity--legal decisions, ordinances, codes of law, regulations and privileges. According to their decisions a man preserved or lost his house and farm, wife and child, and his property, either inherited or acquired. And just after the great war, the despotic will of the ruler, and the tyrannical power of a heartless system, had exalted itself above all law. Amid such a chaos of laws, and the suppression of rights by the power of the State, the minds of men sought a firm support. And as the Pietists demanded of the Church a worthier conception of human rights and duties, the Jurists also began, after the great war, to place the natural law of men in opposition to the injustice of despotic States, and to vindicate the reasonable law of States against intriguing politicians. Together with mathematical discipline and natural philosophy, the science of law became the laboratory in which minds were reared to ideal requirements. From them sprang a new philosophy.

After the Thirty Years' War there began, in the great civilized nations, a systematic exposition of those convictions which Science, from its then standing-point, was able to give concerning God, the creation and the government of the world. The French Descartes, the English Locke, the Dutch Spinoza, and the German Leibnitz, Thomasius and Wolf, were the great exponents of this philosophy.

They all, with the exception of the free-thinker Spinoza, sought to keep their system, concerning the divine rule in nature and in the soul of man, in unison with the doctrines of Christian theology.

After Descartes had put forth his propositions, nothing appeared fair or true to the inquiring spirit of man but what could be proved by unanswerable demonstration,--all belief in authority passed away; science assumed a new dominion. The divines, also, once her severe rulers,--even Luther had placed the words of Holy Scripture above the human reason,--now found that natural theology was the ally of revelation. Young theologians eagerly sought in this philosophy new supports to their faith. The necessity and wisdom of a Creator were demonstrated from the movements of the stars, the volcanic fires, or the convolutions of a snail's shell. On the other hand, there was no lack of men who denied the creating power of a personal God and the immortality of the soul. But against such isolated deists and atheists, most of the philosophers, and the Christian piety of the great mass of the people, rose in arms.

The great German philosophers who, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, were the leaders of this movement, carried a holy fervour into the various circles of German life. Leibnitz, the great creative intellect of his time, a wonderful mixture of elastic pliancy and firm tranquillity, of sovereign certainty and tolerant geniality, worked, by his countless monographs and endless letters, especially on the leaders of the nation and on foreigners, on princes, statesmen, and scholars, opening a path on all sides, and hastening forward to disclose the widest prospects. Besides him, Thomasius, spiritual, emotional, combative, and greedy of approbation, excited even the indifferent and insignificant, by his noisy activity, to take a part in the struggle. As the first German journalist, he contended through the press, both jestingly and in earnest--now in alliance with the Pietists against intolerant orthodoxy, now as opponent of fanatical revivals, for toleration and pure morality against every kind of superstition and fanaticism. Lastly, the younger Christian Wolf, the great professor; he was a methodical, clear, and sober teacher, who, during long years of useful activity, drew up a system and founded a school.

A period such as this, in which the great discoveries of individuals inspired their numerous disciples with enthusiasm, is a happy period for millions who perhaps have no immediate share in the new acquisition. Somewhat of apostolical consecration seems to rest upon the first efforts of a school. What has been progressively formed in the soul of a teacher, painfully amidst inward struggles, works on young souls as something great, firm, and elevating. With enthusiasm and Pietism is united the impulse to work out by self-exertion the new acquisition. Rapid is the spread of theorems among the people; they work not only on the individual sciences, but on all the tendencies of the practical mind, on lawgiving, statesmanship, household regulations, and family training; in the studio and workshop of the artist, and handicraftsman.

This new scientific light was first kindled in 1700. Academies, learned periodicals, and prizes were established. The leaders adjusted the German language to the exigencies of science, and thus placed it victoriously on an equality with Latin; and this glorious deed was the first step towards bringing the mass of the nation into a new relation with the learned.

Thus a new life forced its way, about 1720, with irresistible power into the houses, writing-rooms, and workshops of the citizens. Every sphere of human activity was searchingly investigated. Agriculture, commerce, and the technicalities of trade were made accessible by hand-books of instruction, which are still in the present day the groundwork of our technological literature. Books were written on raw materials, and the method of working them; on minerals, colours, and machines; in many places popular periodicals appeared, which endeavoured to make the new discoveries of science available to the artizan and manufacturer. Even into the hut of the poor peasant did some rays of bright light penetrate; for him, also, arose a small philanthropic literature. The moral working of every earthly vocation was also exhibited; much that was elevating was said concerning the worth and importance of operatives and of officials; the inward connection of the material and spiritual interests of the nation were proclaimed; incessantly was the necessity pointed out of abandoning the beaten track of old customs, of taking interest in the progress of foreign countries, and of learning their character and requirements. Men wrote upon dress and manners in a new style, with humour, irony, and reproof, but always with the wish of remoulding and improving. The spiritual failings of the various classes and professions, the weakness of women, and the roughness and dishonesty of men were incessantly criticised and chastised, undoubtedly in an uncouth style, and sometimes with pedantry and narrow-mindedness, but in an earnest and upright spirit.

The whole private life of Germany was thrown into a state of restless excitement; new ideas struggled everywhere with old prejudices; everywhere the citizen beheld around and within him a change which it was difficult to withstand. The period was still poor in great phenomena, but everywhere in smaller events an impulsive power was perceptible. Only a few years later, the new enlightenment was to bear blossoms of gladness to the whole world. Still is philosophy and popular culture of the people dependent on mathematics and natural science; but since Johann Matthias Gesner, the knowledge of antiquity, the second pole of all scientific culture, has begun to bear upon the historical development of the popular mind. A few years after 1750, Winkelmann travelled to Italy.

And how did the citizens live, from whose homes the greater part of our thinkers and discoverers, our scholars and poets have gone forth, who were to carry out the new culture further and bolder, more freely and more beautifully?

Let us examine a moderate-sized city about 1750. The old brick walls are still standing, with towers, not only over the gates, but here and there upon the walls. A temporary wooden roof is placed on many, the strongest have prisons in them, others that were decayed, having been riddled with shot, are pulled down. The city walls also are repaired; projecting angles and bastions still lie in ruins; blooming elder and garden flowers are planted behind, and trail over the stones; the city moat lies for the most part dry, the cows of some of the citizens pasture within it, or the clothmakers have their frames set up with rows of small iron hooks, and quietly spread their cloths over them. The usual colour since the Pietists, is pepper and salt, as it was then called; the old favourite blue of the Germans is also seen, though no longer made from German woad, but from foreign indigo. The narrow openings in the doors have still wooden planks, often two behind one another, and they are closed at night by the city watchmen, who stand at their post, but have often to be awakened by knocking and ringing, when anyone desires admission. On the inner side of the city wall, fragments of wooden galleries are still to be seen, on which once the archers and arquebuziers stood; but the passage along the wall is no longer free through its whole length, there are already many poor cottages and shops built on it.

In the interior of the city, the houses are unadorned, and not so numerous as in former centuries; there are still some waste spaces between, but most have been bought by people of rank and turned into gardens. Perhaps there is already a coffee garden, laid out after the pattern of the famed one of Leipzig; it contains some rows of trees and benches, and in the coffee-room, near the bar, are arranged the clay pipes of the habitués; but the maple head and the costly meerschaum are just coming into fashion. In the neighbourhood of the chief market-place, the houses are more stately, the old arcades are not preserved; these covered passages, which existed once throughout the greater part of Germany, led through the basement story to the market-places, protecting the foot passengers from rain, and acted as a communication from the house to the street. The old pillars and vaults are attached to the massive edifice of the council-house by coarse rough-cast cement and intermediate walls; in the dim poorly lighted rooms of the interior hang cobwebs, gray piles of records raise their heads amidst layers of dust; in the council-room, in a raised space, the railing of which separates the councillors from the citizens, are stiff-cushioned chairs, covered with green cloth, and fastened with brass nails; everything is unadorned, even the whitewash neglected, and everything poor and tasteless, for in the new State money is deficient, and no pleasure is felt in adorning public edifices, which are considered by the citizens as a necessary evil. Most of the houses in the market-place have pointed gables; they look out on the street, and betwixt the houses broad rushing gutters pour their water on the bad pavement, which is made of rough stones. Among the houses stands an occasional church or abandoned monastic buildings, with buttresses and pointed arches. The people look with indifference on these remains of the past, bound up with which there is scarcely any fond remembrance, for they have lost all appreciation of ancient art; owing to this, the edifices of the ancient times are everywhere ruined, as the castle of Marienburg was by Frederic of Prussia. The magistrates have carefully turned the empty space into a parsonage-house or schoolroom, knocked out the windows, and made a plaster ceiling; and the boys look from their Latin grammar with admiration on the stone rosettes and delicate work of the chisel,--remains of a time when such inutilities were still erected; and in the crumbling cloisters where once trod monks with earnest step, they now spin their humming tops; for the "Circitor susurrans," or "Monk," is still the favourite game of this period, which gentlemen of rank also, in a smaller form, sometimes carry in their pockets.

There is already much order in the city: the streets are swept, the dung-heaps, which fifty years before, even in towns of some calibre, lay in front of the doors--the ancient cleanliness having disappeared in the war--are again removed by an ordinance, which the councillors of the sovereign have sent to the superior officials, and these to the senate. The stock of cattle in the streets is also much diminished; the pigs and cattle, which not long before 1700 enjoyed themselves amidst the children at play, in the dirt of the street, are strictly kept in farmyards and out-houses, for the government does not like that the cities should keep cattle within the walls, for it has introduced the octroi, and a disbanded non-commissioned officer paces backwards and forwards near the gate, with his cane in his hand in order to examine the cans and baskets of the country people. Thus the rearing of cattle is carried on in the needy suburbs and farms: it is only in the small country towns that citizens employ agriculture as a means of support. There is a police also now, that exercises a strict vigilance over beggars and vagabonds, and the passport is indispensable for ordinary travellers. Constables are visible in the streets, and watch the public-houses. At night a fire watchman is posted near the council-house, and the warders of the towers by means of flags and large speaking trumpets, give danger signals. The engine-house is also kept in good order; clumsy fire-barrels stand beside the council-house under open sheds, and above them hang the iron-cased fire-ladders. The night watch are tolerably watchful and discreet; after the great war they here and there sang offensive verses, when they called out the hours, but now the pious parson has insisted upon both words and melody being spiritual.

The artisan continues to work in the old way, each one adheres steadily to his guild; the painters also are incorporated, and execute as a masterpiece a crucifixion with the usual number of prescribed figures. In the Roman Catholic districts they live by very moderate performances of the pictures of the saints; in the Protestant, they paint shields and targets, and the coats of arms of the sovereigns, which are to be seen in numbers on public buildings and over the doors of artisans. Most of the artisans adhere strictly to their old customs, and especially to their guild rights. Any one who enters the guild not according to artisan law, is treated as a bungler, and persecuted with a hatred, the intention of which is to exclude him from their society. Serious business is still transacted in front of the open shops; apprentices are taken, fellows receive the freedom, quarrels are accommodated, and the formula "By your kind permission," which introduces every speech, sounds unceasingly at all the meetings of the masters and the fellows; but the old colloquies and sayings of the middle ages are only half understood, rough jests have been introduced, and the better class already begin not to attach much value to the guild; indeed there are those who consider the old constitution of the guild as a burden, because it stubbornly resists their endeavours to enlarge their manufacturing activity; such was the case with the clothmakers and iron-workers. And the jovial annual feasts which were once the joy and pride of almost every artisan have nearly ceased. The processions in masks, and the old peculiar dances, are incompatible with the culture of a time in which the individual fears nothing so much as to lose his dignity, in which it is preached from the pulpit, that noisy, worldly amusements are sinful, and the learned men of the city find no adequate reason for such disturbance in the streets.

The gentry of the city are separated from the citizens by dress and titles. As much as the nobles look down upon them, so do they upon the citizens, and these again upon the peasants. A merchant has already a place among the gentry, especially if he occupies some city office or has wealth. In the families also of merchants of distinction, as the first wholesale houses are denominated, and in those of traders of consideration, as the possessors of large retail shops are called, a pleasing change may be observed in the mode of life. The coarse luxury of a former generation is restrained, better training at home and greater rectitude in business are everywhere perceptible. It is already a subject of boast that the members of old solid commercial houses are not those who sue for patents of nobility; nay, such vain new nobles are despised by the high commercial class.[85] And the unprejudiced cavalier is brought to confess, that in fact there is no difference between the wife of the landed proprietor, who goes with dignity into the cow-house to overlook the skimming of the cream, and the wife of a merchant of distinction at Frankfort, who during the fair sits in the warehouse; "she is well and handsomely dressed, she gives orders to her people like a princess, she knows how to behave to people of rank, commoners, and those of the lower classes, each according to their class and position; she reads and understands many languages, she judges sensibly, and knows how to live, and bring up her children well." Other circumstances, besides the intellectual energy of the time, contributed to elevate the German merchant. The influx of the expelled Huguenots had not in some respects been favourable to our German character, yet the influence that they exercised on German commerce must be highly estimated. About 1750 their families dwelt in almost all the larger commercial cities; they formed there a small aristocratic community, lived in social seclusion, and maintained carefully their relations with their connections in France, who, up to the present day, form an aristocracy of French wholesale traders, serious and strict, and rather of the old-fashioned aristocratic school. It was among the German Huguenots that the puritanical character of the Genevan and Flemish Separatists found many adherents, their staid demeanour had exercised an influence on other great houses both in Frankfort and along the Rhine. But German commerce had now acquired new vigour, and healthy labour raised the tone of its character. The impoverished country again took an honourable share in the commerce of the world. Already did the Germans export their iron and steel wares from Mark, Solingen and Suhl, cloth from all the provinces, fine cloth also of Portuguese and Spanish wool from Aix-la-Chapelle, damask from Westphalia, linen and lawn from Silesia; to England, Spain, Portugal, and the colonies, whose products in return had a great market in Germany; while the whole of the east of Europe, up to the frontiers of Turkey and the steppes of Asia, were supplied by German merchants. The poverty of the people, that is to say, the low rate of wages, made the outlay of many manufactures light and remunerative. In Hamburg and the cities of the Rhine, from Frankfort to Aix-la-Chapelle, the wholesale trade throve, and equally so in the frontier lands towards Poland, though in a ruder form, as it was one of barter. Goods and travellers were still conveyed down the Danube in rough wooden boats, which were built for a single voyage, and taken to pieces at the end of it, and sold as planks. And at Breslau the bearded traders from Warsaw and Novogorod sold the carts and horses of the steppes, on which they had brought their wares in long caravans to barter them for the costly products of western civilisation.

Already do the Silesian merchants begin to complain that the caravans come less often, and foreigners are dissatisfied on account of the new Prussian red-tapism and customhouse regulations of a strict government. At the same time travelling traders, with their sample cases of knife-blades, and needles, began to find their way from Lennep and Bartscheid to the Seine and the Thames, and the younger sons of great manufacturers met together with Hamburghers in London, Lisbon, Cadiz, and Oporto, and there, as bold and expert speculators, founded numerous firms. As early as 1750, cosmopolitanism had developed itself in the families of great merchants, who looked down with contempt on the limited connections of home. And something of the enterprising and confident character of these men has been communicated to their business friends in the interior. A manly, firm, and independent spirit is to be found about this time pervading all classes.

But most of the gentry in every city belonged to the literary classes--theologians, jurists, and medical men. They represented probably every shade of the culture of the time, and the strongest contrasts of opinion were to be found in every great city. Now, the clergy were either orthodox or Pietist. The first, generally pleasant in social intercourse; not unfrequently bon vivants, able to stand a good bottle of wine, and tolerant of the worldly jokes of their acquaintances. They had lost a good deal of their old pugnacity and inquisitorial character; they condescended sometimes to quote a passage from Horace, occupied themselves with the history of their parish church and school, and already began to regard with secret goodwill the dangerous Wolf, because he was so striking a contrast to their opponents, the Pietists. Where Pietist clergy resided they were probably in better relations with other confessions, and were especially reverenced by the women, Jews, and poor of the city. Their faith, also, had become milder; they were, for the most part, worthy men--pure in morals, faithful shepherds of souls, with a tender, lovable character. Their preaching was very pathetic and flowery; they liked to warn people against cold subtleties, and recommended what they called a juicy, racy style, but which their opponents found fault with as affected tautology. Their endeavours to isolate their parishioners from the bustle of the world was even now regarded with distrust by a great majority of the citizens; and in the taverns it was usual to say, mockingly, that the pious sat groaning over leather aprons, shoemakers' lasts, and tailors' geese, and were on the watch for regeneration.

The teachers of the city schools were still learned theologians, and, for the most part, poor candidates; the Rector, perhaps, had been appointed from the great school of the Halle Orphan Asylum. They were an interesting class, accustomed to self-denial, frequently afflicted with weakly bodies, the result of the hard, necessitous life through which they have had to work upwards. There were original characters among them; many were queer and perverse, and the majority had no comprehensive knowledge. But in very many of them was hid, perhaps, under strange forms, somewhat of the freedom, greatness, and candour of the ancient world; they had been, since the Reformation, the natural opponents of all pious zelots, even those that came from the great orphan asylum, from the training of the two Frankes and of Joachim Lange were generally more moderate than was satisfactory to the Pietist pastors. The leaves of their Cornelius Nepos were from constant use frightfully black; their lot was to rise slowly from the sixth or fifth form to the dignity of conrectors, with a small increase in their scanty salary. The greatest pleasure of their life was to find sometimes a scholar of capacity, in whom they could plant, besides the refinements of Latin syntax and prosody, some of their favourite ideas--a heathenish view of the greatness of man, influences on which the scholar, perhaps, in his manhood, looked back with a smile. But in this thankless and little esteemed occupation they laboured incessantly to form in the Germans a feeling for the beauty of antiquity, and a capacity for comprehending other races of men. And the unceasing influence exercised by thousands of them on the living generation was increased when Gesner naturalised the Greek language in the schools, and established an entirely new foundation for the instruction of scholars, which was spread by the teachers with enthusiasm; the spirit of antiquity, a thorough comprehension of the writers, not the merely grammatical construction, became the main object.

The school of every important town was a Latin one. If it attained to so high a point as to prepare the upper classes for the University, the boys who were to become artisans left when they got to the fourth form. This arrangement contributed to insure a certain amount of education to the citizen, which is now sometimes wanting. It was certainly in itself no great gain for the guild master to have some knowledge of Mavor, and of Cupid and Venus's doves, which were brought forward in all the poems of the learned, and embellished even the almanacks and gingerbread; but, together with these conceptions from antiquity, his mind imbibed also the seed of the new ideas of the time. It is owing to this kind of school culture that enlightenment of mind has so rapidly spread among intelligent citizens.

Strict was the school discipline; the usual words of encouragement which the poor scholars then wrote in one another's albums were--"Patience! joyfully onward!" But strictness was necessary, for in the under classes grown-up youths sat beside the children, and the bad tricks of two generations were in constant conflict. Through a great part of Germany there existed a custom which has been retained up to the present day, that the boys who were on the foundation must, under the lead of a teacher, sing as choristers. If they did not walk in funeral processions behind the cross, in their blue mantles, it was a grievous neglect, which much disturbed the discipline of the school, and as early as 1750 was complained of as an irregularity.

The followers of Wolf were to be found everywhere among the gentry, as the scholars of the new "enlightenment," the watchmen of toleration, and the friends of scientific progress. In the course of this year they were in anxious discussion on some old controversial points, for the Leipziger, Crusius, had just published his "Introduction to the Rational Contemplation of Natural Occurrences;" and, with this work, and a cosmos of the year 1749, in their hands, they were once more taking into consideration whether they were to assume that space was a plenum or a vacuum, and whether the final cause of movement was to be sought in the active force of elastic bodies. Indignantly did these men of progress regard the theological faculty at Rostock, who had, just at this period, compelled a young Herr Kosegarten to make a recantation, because he had dared to maintain that the human nature of the Redeemer on earth had only been to a certain degree supported by his Divine nature; that he had learnt like others, and had not in all things a perfect foreknowledge. On the other hand, they accorded a benignant smile to the physico-theological contemplations of those who proved the possibility of the resurrection, in spite of the continual change of matter--or, to use the language of the time, in spite of the change of particles of the body--or took pains to show wisdom and foresight in the white fur of the hare in Livonia.

They could also prize German poetry and eloquence. Herr Professor Gottsched and his wife were then at Leipzig. Like others, they had their weaknesses; but there was a noble nature in them, decorum of character, dignity, and knowledge. They also belonged to this school, and they wished, through the medium of German poetry, to introduce greater refinement and better taste into the country. They met with much enmity, but their periodical, the "Neuen Büchersaal," could scarcely be dispensed with by those that followed the course of the belles lettres. Beside this elder generation, a younger one was already springing up in the cities, who no longer considered the fine arts merely as agreeable ornaments, but looked to their influence for noble feelings and a freer morality, at which the literary party disapprovingly shook their heads. And thus these disciples--it was only a small number--conducted themselves for two years with an excitement which led them into great exaggerations; they carried books in their pockets, they gave them to the women of their acquaintance, they declaimed loudly, and pressed one another's hands. It was the first dawn of a new life which was hailed with so much joy. In the monthly journal, the "Bremer Beiträge," appeared the first cantos of the "Messiah," by Herr Klopstock; the perplexity which, in the beginning, was excited by its ancient metre, was now followed, in a small circle, by unreserved admiration. In the preceding year another poem, "The Spring," by an unknown writer, had been published; no one knew who had written it, but it was supposed to be the same agreeable poet who, under the armorial bearings of Breitkopf, had contributed, together with Kästner, Gellert, and Mylius, to the monthly journal "Belustigungen des Verstandes und Witzes" ("Diversions of Wit and Intellect"). And just at this time, also, the beginning of another heroic poem, "Noah," by another unknown writer, had been published by Weidmann; it was supposed to be by a Swiss, because the name Sipha appeared in it, which had formerly been used by Bodmer. All these poems were in Roman metre, and this new style caused an excitement of mind such as had never before been known. There appeared to be a regular rebellion among the bels-esprits; and there was shortly to be a still greater uproar.

The cities were still deficient in such theatrical representations as could satisfy a thoughtful mind. But any one who then travelling in northern Germany had met the Schönemannsche troop, would still remember a young man of disadvantageous figure, with a short neck, of the name of Eckhof, who afterwards became the most refined and finished actor of Germany. And just within these weeks a new book had come from the Leipzig fair, "Beiträge zur Historie und Aufnahme des Theaters" ("Contributions to the History and Rise of the Theatre"), which had been written by two young literati of Leipzig; of whom one was called Lessing. In the same batch of books was "Pamela," by Richardson, who, the year before had written "Clarissa."

But what was then read in the houses of the citizens was of quite another quality. As yet there were no circulating libraries; only the small second-hand booksellers sometimes lent books to trustworthy acquaintance. But there sprang up a voluminous literature of novels, which were eagerly bought by unassuming readers. They were narratives, slight and carelessly put together, in which strange events were related.

These adventures were represented in the seventeenth century in various ways: either in dull imitations of the old chivalrous and pastoral novels, with a phantastic background, and without the advantage of detailed description; or a coarse copy of real life, without beauty, often common and vulgar. There was then a concurrence of a decaying style and of the beginning of a new one. After 1700, the realistic tendency became the ruling one. From the Amadis novels, arose loose court and tourist adventures. "Simplicissimus" was followed by a great number of war romances, Robinsonades, and stories of adventurers; the greater part of them are very carelessly composed, and German gossip or newspaper information of extraordinary occurrences abroad, partly diaries, are worked in. "Fassmann's Dialogues from the Kingdom of the Dead," are collected in a similar way from flying-sheets and story-books, which that disorderly character, who then resided in Franconia, had gathered together from the pastor of the place. Those who wrote thus were thoroughly despised by literary men, but they exercised a very great influence--one difficult to estimate--on the mind of the people. They were two separate spheres that revolved together. And this contrast between the reading of the people and that of the educated class, exists but too much, even in the present day.

Among the gentry of the town, however, there were in 1750 still other literati. No town of any importance failed to possess a patriotic man, who examined old chronicles, church documents, and records from the council archives, and could give valuable contributions towards a history of the place and district. As yet little was known of the monuments of antiquity; but they, as well as old inscriptions and the false idols of our primeval ancestors, were copied as curiosities.

Still greater was the interest excited by physical science. It continues the most popular branch of knowledge in the smaller cities. Not inconsiderable is the number of respectable periodicals which give information concerning the new discoveries of science. We also revert to them with respect; the representations and style are sometimes admirable; as, for example, in "Kästner's Hamburg Magazine;" and they are unweariedly occupied in presenting the scientific discoveries of commerce, trade, and agriculture to every circle of practical interests. Their rational influence, however, did not entirely displace all that was untenable. The old inclination for alchemy was not conquered. Still did men, sensible and upright men, continue this kind of work; earnestly was the great secret sought for, and ever did something interpose to hinder final success. This work was carried on secretly, but well did the city know that the councillor or the secretary still used his chemical apparatus to make gold. But a pleasure in chemical processes, distillations in retorts, and cold solvents was prevalent among many; powerful tinctures were distributed to acquaintances, and housewifes loved to distil various artificial waters; in advertisement sheets, medicaments were recommended, pills for the gout, powders for the scrofula, &c., charlatanry was comparatively greater than now, and lies, equally barefaced. A zeal for scientific collections became general; boys also began to pin butterflies and beetles, and to examine dendrites and minerals in their father's microscope; and the more wealthy rejoiced over "Rösel's Insect Recreations," and the first number of "Frischen's Representations of Birds."

The well educated, even in the humblest places, prided themselves on collecting a library. Twice a year, at Easter and Michaelmas, the lover of books made his regular purchases; then the bookseller brought from the Leipzig Fair the "novelties" which he had either bought with money or exchanged for other works published by himself. These new books he laid in his shop for inspection, as a trader now does his drapery. This was an important time for literary amateurs; the shops were the focus of literary intercourse; the chief customers seated themselves there, gave their opinions, chose and rejected books, and received the lists of new works of the great firms,--as, for example, that of Breitkopf,--and obtained information of other novelties from the literary world, such as, that in Göttingen a new scientific society had been founded; that Herr Klopstock had received a pension of 400 thalers from the King of Denmark, without any duties attached to it; and that Herr von Voltaire had been appointed chamberlain at Berlin. About this period many other desirable purchases made their way through the country in the bales of books.

There were many opportunities also of acquiring old as well as new books. An interest had already been excited in the old editions of the classics. Besides those of Aldus, those of Elzivir were sought after with especial curiosity. But the second-hand book trade was as yet inconsiderable, except in Halle and Leipzig; it was not easy, unless by accident or at some auction, for individuals to acquire books which, in the last century, had been collected by the patricians of the Imperial cities whose families had gradually died out, or perhaps from monastic libraries, the books of which had been sold in an underhand way by unscrupulous monks. An ecclesiastic in the neighbourhood of Gräfenthal in Franconia sold, for twenty-five gulden, which were to be paid by instalments, many ells of folios and quartos beautifully bound; the ells of the larger-sized books were somewhat dearer than those of the smaller ones; many works were of course incomplete, because, the measurement being precise, the ell was shorter than the number of volumes. There was no choice allowed. It was generally the backs that were measured. This barbarism, however, was an exception.

Those authors who wrote books, if in high repute, obtained from the booksellers an amount of compensation far from insignificant. Their position, in this respect, had much improved since the beginning of the century. As the predilection for theological and legal treatises still continued, they were sometimes more highly paid than they would be now. He, nevertheless, who did not stand, as university teacher, on the vantage-ground of science, gained but a small income. When the Right Rev. Herr Lesser, in 1737, made an agreement with his publisher for the publication of "the Chronicle of Nordhausen," he was "satisfied" to take as payment for each sheet of that conscientious work, the sum of sixteen gute groschen, which he was to receive in the shape of books, but at the same time to promise that, in case the contents of his work should involve the publisher in any troubles with the authorities, he would indemnify him.

In the latter part of the morning the apothecary's shop became a pleasant rendezvous for the city gentry. There, politics and city news were discussed along with small glasses of eau de vie; and from the ceiling and upper cornice, the old frippery attire of exploded quacks and worm doctors, also skeletons of sharks, stuffed apes, and other horrors, looked down goggle-eyed upon the eager disputes of the society. Besides the city gossip, politics had already become a favourite subject of discourse, which was carried on no longer with the calm of mere wise maxims, but with heartfelt interest. Whether King or Empress, whether Saxony or Prussia, were principally discussed, it could be discovered to which party each individual present belonged. A few years later, these kind of disputes became so vehement that they destroyed family life and the peace of households. Meanwhile the imaginations of the lesser citizens, the servants and children, were filled with other ideas, for the old superstition wove its web round their life. There was scarcely an old house that had not its haunted room; ghosts showed themselves on the graves and within the church doors; even the engine-house was haunted before a fire broke out; still was the mysterious wail of lament heard, a variation of the belief in the wild army which had entered into the souls of the people through the great war; still were old cats considered as witches; and apparitions, presentiments, and significant dreams were discussed with anxious faith. Ever yet was the search after concealed treasures an affair of importance; no city was without a credible story of a treasure trove which had taken place in the neighbourhood, or had been frustrated by untimely words. But the prudent father of a family already tries earnestly to enlighten his children and servants on such points. The enlightened man does not deny unqualifiedly the possibility of a mysterious connexion with the other world, but he regards every single case with distrust; he admits that behind the ruined altar of the old church and in the ruins of the neighbouring castle something curious may be concealed, and that it might well repay a person to dig for it; but he holds in sovereign contempt the flames and the black dog, and he recounts with special pleasure numerous instances where this faith of the "olden time" had been misused by deceivers. Seldom do the months pass without bringing a periodical containing well-written treatises, in which the mountain sprite is entirely put out of the question, fiery meteors are explained, and thunderbolts are considered as petrifactions. In no city are excited people wanting who are tormented by apparitions; the clergy still continue to pray for these poor people; but not only physicians and literary laymen, but also clever citizens, maintain that such kinds of devils are expelled by medicine and fasting, and not by prayer, as they are only produced by the morbid fancies of hypochondria.

Among the daily events is the interesting arrival and departure of the mail-coach. About this time all the promenaders like to move into the vicinity of the post-office. The usual land-post is a very slow, clumsy means of conveyance; its snail pace was notorious even fifty years later. Of made roads there are as yet none in Germany; soon after the Seven Years' War the first chaussees were formed,--still very bad. Whoever wishes to travel comfortably takes the extra post; for greater economy, care is taken that all the places shall be occupied, and in the local papers which have existed for some little time in most of the larger cities, a travelling companion is sometimes advertised for. For long journeys, private carriages are bought, which are sold again at the end of the journey. The badness of the roads gives the postmaster the right to put four horses to a light carriage, and it is a privilege to the traveller if the Government will give him a licence to take only two horses extra post. He who is not sufficiently wealthy for this, looks out for a return carriage, and these opportunities are announced several days beforehand. If there is much intercourse between two places, besides the ordinary post and the more speedy mail, a licensed stagecoach goes on specified days. These more especially facilitate the personal intercourse of the lower orders. In 1750 there was one from Dresden to Berlin every fortnight; to Altenburg, Chemnitz, Freiberg, and Zwickau, once a week; to Bautzen and Görlitz, the number of passengers was not sufficiently certain for the coachman to be able to go on a specified day; the green and the red passage-boats went between Dresden and Meissen, each once a week. Even with the best drivers, travelling was very slow. Five German miles a day, at the rate of a mile in two hours, seems to have been the usual rate of travelling. A distance of twenty miles could not be accomplished by a carriage under three days, and generally four were necessary. When, in the July of the year which is here described, Klopstock travelled with Gleim, in a light carriage drawn by four horses, from Halberstadt to Magdeburg, six miles in six hours, the rapidity appeared to him so extraordinary that he compared it with the races at the Olympic games. But when the country roads were very bad, which was always the case in the rainy season of the spring and autumn, a journey was avoided unless it was inevitable, as it was considered as a risk not to be encountered without grievous adventures. In the year 1764, it was still thought remarkable by the Hanoverians, that their ambassador had succeeded in reaching Frankfort-a-M., for the coronation of the Emperor, in spite of the bad roads, without any other damage than a broken axle. Thus we find that a journey at this period is an undertaking to be well considered, which can hardly be carried through without long preparation; the arrival of travelling strangers in a city is the event of the day, and the curious multitude collect round the carriage during its detention. It is only in the larger commercial towns that the hotels are fashionably arranged; Leipzig is in great repute in this respect. People were glad to be accommodated at the house of an acquaintance, ever taking into consideration the expenditure; for he who travels must make accurate calculations. A person of any pretensions avoids a journey on foot, on account of the bad roads, dirty inns, and rough encounters. Well-dressed pedestrians in search of the picturesque are, as yet, unheard of.

The traveller was not only accompanied by the lively sympathy of his friends, he was also employed in their business, as then among acquaintances there was more mutual accommodation than now. He was amply supplied with clothes, letters of recommendation, cold meat, and prudent precepts; but he was also burdened with commissions, purchases of every kind, and delicate business; also with the collecting of debts, the engaging of tutors, nay, even with reconnoitring and mediating in affairs of the heart. If he travelled to some great fair, he must take care of certain special coffers and chests to satisfy the wishes of his acquaintances. This kind of reciprocal service was absolutely needful, for the conveyance of money and packages by the post was still very dear and not always very sure. Betwixt neighbouring cities therefore a regular messenger service was established, as for example in Thuringia, where it continues to the present day. These messengers--frequently women--carried letters and errands on fixed days, alike through snow and under a scorching sun; they had charge of all kinds of purchases, and, as trustworthy persons, enjoyed the confidence of the magistrates, who entrusted them with official letters and public papers, and when they arrived at their destination had an appointed place, where letters and return parcels for their native home were delivered to them. If the intercourse between two places was very active, a goods conveyance, with compartments with drawers in it, of which sometimes two associated families had the key, was sent backwards and forwards.

Scanty and spare was the housekeeping of the citizens; few of them were sufficiently wealthy to be able to invest their household arrangements and their life with any polish; and the rich were always in danger of falling into unseemly luxury, such as corrupted the courts and the families of the nobility. Those who had a comfortable competency lived very simply, only showing their wealth by their hospitality and the adornment of their house and table on festive occasions. Therefore feasts were ungenial state affairs, for which the whole household was deranged. Nothing distinguishes the man of the world more than the easy style of his society. Strict were the regulations in the citizen's household: everything was precisely defined, even on the smallest points, as to what one was to render to or receive from another. The interchange of good wishes and compliments, that is to say, the courtesies of conversation, and even the trinkgeld, all had their accurately prescribed form and amount. Through these innumerable little regulations, social intercourse acquired a stiff formality which strongly contrasts with the freedom from constraint of the present day. It was still customary to be bled and take medicine on appointed days, to pay your bills and make visits at stated intervals. Equally fixed were the enjoyments of the year: the cake which was suitable to every day, the roast goose, and, if possible, the sledge-drives. Fixed was the arrangement of the house: the massive furniture which had been bought by the bridal couple on their first settling down, the stuffed chair which had perhaps been bought at an auction by the husband as a student, the folding-table for writing, and the cupboards, had been the companions of many generations. But underneath this network of old customs freer views began to germinate: already did the troublesome question arise--wherefore? even with respect to the most trifling usages. Everywhere might individuals be found who set themselves with philosophic independence against these customs, which appeared to them not to be founded on reason; in many more did there work a deep impulse to freedom, self-dependence, and a new purport of life, which they held apart from the multitude and from society, which had the effect of giving them an appearance of originality. The interiors of the houses were still undecorated; the ground-floor, with its polished boards, had no other ornament than the bright colour of the wood, which was preserved by incessant washing, which made the dwelling at least once a week damp and uncomfortable. The stairs and entrance-hall were still frequently strewn with white sand. But they liked to have their rooms nicely fitted up; the furniture, among which the commode was a new invention, was carefully worked and beautifully inlaid. Painting was still uncommon on the walls; but the distempered plaster walls were in little esteem: papers were preferred. The wealthy liked to have the stamped leather, which gave the room a particularly comfortable aspect; leather was also much liked as covers for furniture. Copper and tin utensils were still the pride of the housewife. They were used on "state" occasions: this new and significant word had penetrated into the kitchen. At Nuremberg, for example, there were in wealthy families state kitchens, which used to be opened to small societies for morning collations, at which cold meats were served. In such kitchens pewter and copper glittered all around like bright mirrors; even the wood for burning, which lay there piled up in great heaps, was covered with bright tin, all only for show and amusement, as now the kitchen of a little girl. But porcelain had already begun to be placed alongside the pewter; in refined Saxony, more especially, the wealthy housewife seldom failed to have a table set out with china cups, jugs, and little ornamental figures. And the fashionable pet of the ladies, the pug, might by a wayward movement produce a crash which endangered the peace of the house. Just at that time this curious animal stood at the height of his repute; it had come into the world no one knew from whence, and it passed away from it again equally unperceived. But the heart of the housewife was attached to her weaving as well as her pewter and porcelain. The linen damask was very beautifully prepared, with artistic patterns which we still admire; to possess such damask table-covers was a most particular pleasure, and great value was also set upon fine body-linen; the ruffled shirt which Gellert received as a present from Lucius was not forgotten in the description of his audience.

The dress worn in public was still regarded by serious men as a matter of station; the Pietists had accustomed the citizen to wear dark or sober colours; but fine textures, buttons, unpretending embroidery and linen, demonstrated not less than perukes and swords the high-bred man. This was the dress to be worn in public, and must especially be put on when going out; and as it was inconvenient and--at least the perukes--difficult to put on and to powder without the help of others, a contrast wan produced by this between home and society which proscribed social intercourse at certain hours in the day, and made it formal and elaborate. At home a dressing-gown was worn, in which literary men received visits, and the "best" dress was carefully spared. Many things which appear to us as common necessaries were still quite unknown, and the absence of many comforts was not felt. In the year 1745 an Austrian non-commissioned officer begged of an imprisoned officer, from whom he had taken a watch, to wind it up for him; he had never had one in his hands. The worthy Semler had become a professor before he obtained by the aid of a bookseller his first silver watch; and he complained, about 1780, that then every master of arts, nay, every student thought he must have a watch; now, in every family of similar station, the third-form boy has a silver, and the student a gold watch.

Besides the landed nobility, only the highest state officials and the richest merchants kept their own carriage and horses, and this more rarely than fifty years before. But literary men were then often advised by physicians not to fear the dangers of riding; schools were established, and riding-horses let out for hire. It did not indeed happen to every one as to the invalid Gellert, to have as a present for the second time, after the death of his renowned Dapple, a horse from the Elector's stables, with velvet saddle and housings embroidered in gold, which the dear professor, much moved after his manner, accepted, though with the greatest distrust as to the good temper of the horse, and was never weary of speaking of it to his acquaintance, whilst his groom showed the prodigy for money to the Leipzigers. As the dress of that day made people very sensitive to damp, sedan-chairs came into fashion; they were as frequently used as now the droschky; the bearers were known by a kind of livery, had their appointed stations, and were to be found wherever the nobility and the public appeared in numbers: at great dances, on Sunday at the church doors, and at the theatres.

Strict was the discipline of the house. In the morning, even in those families that were not Pietists, short prayers were read with the children and servants, a verse was sung, a prayer or exhortation followed, and then a hymn. They rose and retired to bed early. The intercourse at home was formal: extreme respect, with ceremonious forms, was required of both children and servants; and husbands and wives among the gentry still continued generally to speak to each other in the third person plural.

All who appertained to the family, whether friends or distant acquaintance, in their simple and often needy life, were invested with great importance. Still were advancement, interest, and favours sought for and expected, through the friends of the family. To protect and become a partisan was a duty; therefore it was considered great good fortune to have noble and influential acquaintances; and in order to secure this it was necessary to be mindful of congratulations on birthdays and verses at family festivals. Under such protection people sought their fortunes in the world. Devotion to the great was immense: it was still correct to kiss the hand of a patron. When Count Schwerin, on the 11th of August, 1741, received the oath of allegiance for his sovereign in the royal salon at Breslau, the Protestant church inspector, Burg, on shaking hands with him, wished to kiss his hand. The Breslauers were not astonished at this obsequiousness, but only that a field-marshal should have embraced and kissed a citizen theologian.

Sponsorship was, among the citizens, the foundation of a still nearer relation: the godfather was bound to provide for the advancement of his godchild; and this parental relation lasted to the end of his life. If he was wealthy, the parents gladly allowed him a decisive voice as to the future of their child, but it was also expected that he should show his goodwill by his last testament.

This life of citizens in humble circumstances developed certain peculiarities of character and education. First a softness of nature which, about 1750, was called tender and sentimental. The foundation of this remarkable softness was implanted in the soul by the great war and its political results, and Pietism had strikingly developed it. Almost every one had the habit of exciting and stirring up themselves and others. In the last century, family prayer had been heartless and formal; now, the edifying contemplations and moral reflections of the father of a family gave occasion for dramatic scenes within it. Extemporary prayers especially, accustomed the members of a family to express openly what was really in their hearts. Vows and promises, solemn exhortations and pathetic reconciliations betwixt husbands and wives, parents and children, sentimental scenes, were as much sought after and enjoyed as they are now avoided. Even in schools the easy excitability of that generation frequently came to light. When a worthy teacher was in trouble, he caused the scholars to sing verses which harmonised with his frame of mind, and it was agreeable to him to feel that the boys understood him and showed their sympathy in their devotions. In the same way the preacher in the pulpit loved to make his congregation the confidants of his own struggles and convictions; his sorrows and joys, repentance and inward peace, were listened to with respect and consecrated by prayer.

The generation of 1750 had more especially a craving for excitement and exaltation of feeling. A feeling, an action, or a man was easily reckoned great; grand epithets were heaped upon friends; and, again, your own sorrows and the misfortunes of others were enjoyed with a certain gloomy satisfaction. Tears flowed readily both over your own sufferings and those of others; and also from joy, gratitude, devotion, or admiration; but it was not through foreign literature, not by Gellert, nor by the literary worshippers of Klopstock, that this sentimentality was implanted: it lay deep in the national character. When, in 1749, the young Doctor Semler took leave of the University of Halle, he was very sorrowful, for he had secretly adored the daughter of his dear teacher, Professor Baumgarten, notwithstanding he had at his home, Saalfeld, another love of his youthful days; this sorrow affected him so powerfully, that with difficulty he took his Doctors degree. He, however, succeeded, and after having done so, he delivered, before his model Baumgarten--who was in the chair as president--an extempore Latin gratulatory oration, so impassioned, that not only he himself, but also most of his hearers, wept. Again, at home he sat down and wept over his fate, and his truehearted comrade wept with him almost the whole afternoon. That he should shed tears at his departure was natural, but he still wept when in the course of his long journey he arrived at Merseburg; and when, on reaching home, he gave the laudatory letter of Baumgarten to his father, the latter wept also for joy.

In this case the emotion was justifiable, and tears flowed from the heart; but it could not fail to happen that the habit of self-consciousness, and of watching each inward emotion, degenerated into acting a part, and admiration of noble affections, into affectation.

This soon showed itself in the German language. The higher emotions still found no adequate expression. The language of books still dominated, and all the nobler feelings of men had to adapt themselves to its forms and periods. Just at that time however this language had gained a certain degree of aptitude in expressing clearly and simply the calm, methodic work of the reflecting mind; but when passionate feelings sought expression in words, they were still restrained within the threadbare forms of the ancient rhetoric, and nestled in the dry leaves of old phrases. The Pietists had to invent a phraseology of their own for their peculiar feelings, and these expressions soon degenerated into mannerism. It was the same case with those new turns of expression by which highly-gifted individuals sought to enrich the language of the heart. If a poet spoke of feeling the soft tremor of a friendly kiss, hundreds imitated him, delighted with the high-flown expression. Thus, also, tears of sorrow and of gratitude, and the sweets of friendship, became stereotyped phrases, which at last had little meaning in them.

And this poverty of language became general. Almost everywhere, when we expect the simple expression of an inward feeling, we find a display of reflections which is as repulsive in letters and speeches, as in poems. This speciality of the old time becomes insupportable to us, and we readily accuse it of hypocrisy, callousness, and hollowness. But our ancestors have a sufficient excuse. They could not do otherwise. Still did there remain in their souls somewhat of the epic constraint of the middle ages, the yearning for an outpouring of greater passion, for enthusiasm, and for the melody of feeling: it becomes almost morbid; everywhere there is an aspiration after a higher self-development; everywhere a seeking and a longing; but still do their feelings lack power, and their increased knowledge the corresponding free culture of the character; and so do the poets, who have always been the leaders of the people. Even in the amiable character that figures in the dawn of a higher life, in Ewald von Kleist, the lyrical strivings are very remarkable. Already are his descriptions rich in beautiful details, and an abundance of poetical conceptions group themselves spontaneously around the leading idea of his poem, which almost always rests on an honourable and deep-seated feeling; but, amid all his poetical imagery, he could not give utterance to an elevated poetical frame of mind, and still less cause the full harmony of a beautiful feeling to echo in the listener's heart. For his tones were not yet powerful enough, nor were those of his older contemporaries who, so painfully sought after all that was beautiful and noble in the soul, and so often boasted to have found it.

But the self-contemplation of the educated did not extend to the inward life alone: they were equally watchful of their outward appearance, and of the impression which they made on others. In this respect they appear to us ridiculously refined. The tight dress and powder, the fact of being unusually smart, put men in a state of agitation and formal cheerfulness which easily became affectation. The stereotyped forms of social intercourse, and the rhetorical compliments, were so artificial, that society became like a play, and the Germans of 1750 actors who made themselves laughable if they did not act cleverly. When any one approached a patron, he had to take care that his pace was not too quick, nor too bold, nor too shy--that his voice was properly subdued, and that he held his hat in his left arm, so that it formed a proper angle; he had to prepare himself beforehand, that his address of salutation might not be too long and too commonplace, and just respectful enough to awaken goodwill; he had to pay much attention to the intonation of his voice, so that what had been well considered before might have the effect of being natural. If any one wished to kiss the hand of a lady or gentleman of distinction, he took pains even in this act to express a feeling suitable to the occasion; whether, as a sign of confidential respect, he pressed it against his eyes and brow, as well as to his mouth, how long he kept the hand, and how slowly he released it, all this was very important, and, if possible, well considered beforehand; any mistake committed, occasioned afterwards probably great trouble to the guilty party. He who had to exhibit himself before a larger assembly, took into serious consideration the position and demeanour by which he could produce an effect. However troubled was the young Semler when he stood before the professor's chair for his doctor's degree, yet he did not forget "to take a peculiar but not offensive attitude," in which he answered his opponents so rapidly, that he scarce waited for the end of their speech; nor did he forget to tell, how indifferent the "tender emotions of his heart" had made him to every possible objection of his antagonist. The women had also to study well, not only the motions of their fans, but their smiles and the casting-down of their eyes; it was required that they should do it unaffectedly, with grace and tact.

Undoubtedly this pressure of convenance was frequently, with the Germans, broken through by characteristic rectitude and firmness. But the stedfast enduring power of will, which we honour as man's highest quality, was then very rare in Germany. It was to be gained by experience and necessity, by the labour and practice of arduous duty; then it broke forth with surprising energy. But this quality was deficient in some manly characteristics. The pressure of a despotic state had continued for a century; it had made the citizen shy, dull, and fainthearted. This frame of mind had been promoted by Pietism. A continual contemplation of their own unworthiness diminished in more finely organized minds the capacity of enjoying themselves heartily, or of giving frank expression to their own nature. The severe training and immoderate exertions of memory of literary men, and their many night watches in close rooms amid the fumes of tobacco, only too often implanted disease. We may gather from many examples how frequently consumption and hypochondria destroyed the life of young scholars. And we find generally among the citizen families of that time, sentimental, irritable, sensitive natures, helpless and feckless in respect of all that was unusual to them. But that was not the worst. Not only the will, but the certainty of their convictions and the feeling of duty were easily extinguished by external influences. Of that quiet self-respect which we look for in a good and highly educated man, little is as yet to be seen. Money and outward honour still exercise too great a power even over the most upright Gellert, who was a pattern to his contemporaries of tender feeling and unselfishness, when a professor at Leipzig, was joyfully surprised that a foreign nobleman from Silesia, whom he did not personally know, but with whom he had once exchanged a few letters, offered his mother a yearly pension of twelve ducats. In his answer the assurance of tears of gratitude did not fail. He never felt a scruple in accepting sums of money from persons unknown to him. And one may venture to maintain that in 1750, throughout the whole of Germany, there was scarcely a man, even among the best, who would have refused an anonymous present.

When Frederick William the First called upon the professors of his University at Frankfort, to engage in a public disputation with his reader, Morgenstein, who stood on the lecturer's platform in a grotesque attire, with a fox's brush by his side, no one dared to gainsay the tyrannical whim, except Johann Jacob Moser, who considered himself in the relation of a stranger to the Brandenburgers, and preserved the proud consciousness of being in high consideration in the Imperial Court. And even he was so excited by the occurrence, that he fell dangerously ill. Where there exists such a deficiency of self-respect in men engaged in the struggle of life, their vanity grows exuberantly. It so clouded the minds of most men of that period, that but few leave an agreeable impression behind them; and it was no wonder that only the strongest were free from it. Men were sentimental and sensitive; it was a matter of decorum to pay compliments; respect for truth was less than now, and the necessity for politeness greater. He who exercised an influence on others by his intellectual labours, or by his own powers had won consideration in his sphere, was accustomed to receive much praise and honour, and missed it if withdrawn. He who had no rank or title, had acquired no office in the State, and did not enjoy the privileges of a superior position, was recklessly crushed and oppressed. Not merit, but the approbation of influential persons was of value; not learning alone availed with publishers and readers: a position at the University, and a great circle of auditors who bought and spread the works of the teacher, were necessary. Insecure was every earthly position; everywhere strong and arbitrary power prevailed. Even the greatest reputations trusted far more to the support of personal admirers, than to the sound dignity of merit. Thus every individual expression of praise and blame obtained an importance which we can now hardly comprehend. Every one was therefore careful to oblige others, in order to be approved of by strangers. German life was still deficient in an enlightened daily press, and many individuals were entirely without the discipline and restraint which is produced by a powerful public opinion.

Nothing is so difficult as to form a correct judgment of the morality in families of a far-distant period. For it is not sufficient to estimate the sum of striking errors, which in itself is very difficult; it is equally necessary to understand the individual injustice in particular cases which is often impossible. Among the citizens, the intercourse of both sexes was almost entirely confined to the family circles: larger societies were rare. In the houses of intimates, the habits of the young people were lively and unrestrained; the friends of the sisters and the comrades of the brothers became part of the family. The custom still continued of making confidences in jest which would now be considered objectionable. Embracing and kissing were not restricted to games of forfeits. Such a custom, however harmlessly and innocently carried on by the young people, was calculated to give rise to feelings of levity which we should view with regret, and it frequently gave birth to a certain bold freedom in the intercourse between the young men and maidens. Tender liaisons were quickly formed in families between the unmarried members; no one thought them wrong, and they were as speedily dissolved. These transient liaisons, full of sentiment, seldom increased to a deeper passion, nay, in general, the poetry of youth was extinguished by them. They seldom led, either, to betrothal or marriage; for marriage at that period, about 1750, was still as much an affair of business as of the heart. And the endless blessing of love and faithfulness, which just then began to dawn upon them, rested generally on other grounds than on the glow of a pure passion, or a deep-seated communion of feeling preceding the betrothal.

The behaviour of the parties interested in the conclusion of a marriage strikes us as remarkable. If the man had the prospect of an employment which would enable him to keep a family, his acquaintances, men and women, exerted themselves to devise, propose, and negotiate a marriage for him. Match-making was then a duty which no one could easily escape. Grave scholars, distinguished officials, rulers and princesses of the country, assiduously transacted the like disinterested business. A marriageable man in a respectable position had to endure much from the admonitions, the mischievous hints, and numerous projects of his acquaintances. When Gellert first exchanged a few letters with Demoiselle Caroline Lucius,--whom he had never seen,--he asked her, in the first long letter with which he had favoured her, whether she would marry an acquaintance of his, the Precentor at St. Thomas's school. When Herr von Ebner, chancellor of the University of Altorf, spoke for the first time to the young Professor Semler, he made him the kind offer of providing a rich wife for him. The young Professor Pütter, who was at Vienna in his travels, had the offer of a wealthy merchant's daughter as a good partie, from a count, who was his neighbour at table, but entirely a stranger to him. This proposal, however, was declined. But, equally cool as the offers, were the decisions of the parties interested. Men and women decided upon marrying each other often after a passing view, or after they had exchanged a few words, never having had any affectionate intercourse. On both sides a good recommendation was the main point. The following is an example of a similar betrothal, which appeared to the parties interested as especially vehement and impassioned. The assessor of the Supreme Court of Judicature, von Summermann, became acquainted at the Schwalbach baths, in 1754, with a Fräulein von Bachellé, an amiable lady of the court of a disagreeable Langravine; he saw her frequently at country parties, to which both were invited by a married acquaintance. Some weeks later he revealed his wish to marry the Fräulein, to an acquaintance at Wetzlar, after he had cautiously collected information concerning the character of the young lady. The confidant,--it was Pütter--visited the innocent court lady: "After some short common-place conversation, I said that I had to make a proposal to her, to which I must beg for an answer. She replied shortly, 'What kind of proposal?' I equally shortly and frankly asked, 'Whether she could make up her mind to marry the Herr von Summermann?' 'Ah, you joke!' was her answer. I said, 'No, I do not, I am quite in earnest; here I have already a ring and yet another present (a silk purse with a hundred carlines), by which I can verify my proposal.' 'Now, if you are in earnest, and bring the proposal from Herr von Summermann, I do not hesitate a moment.' Thus she took the ring, but refused to accept the hundred carlines, and empowered me to convey her assent." The further course also of this very exciting business was extraordinary and dramatic. The happy lover had settled that his wooer should obtain for him more certain information. Now, it is true that a written line in this scribbling age might have been possible, but it appears that written information was considered too prolix, and it was undoubtedly then difficult to give it in one line without titles and congratulations; so it was determined that, as in "Tristan and Isolde," the result of an undertaking was telegraphed by a black or a white seal, so here by the transmission of a certain volume of a valuable legal work of the state chancery, it was to be signified that the proposal was accepted; another volume of the same work would have intimated the contrary. And the difference of the new conscientious period from the old one of Queen Isolde consisted only in this, that no false signal would be given.

But though in this union the heart to a certain degree asserted its rights, it was less often the case with men of education and capacity. Professor Achenwall, a distinguished law teacher at Göttingen, made an offer to a daughter of Johann Jacob Moser without ever having seen her, and she in like manner accepted; after her death he married a Demoiselle Jäger, of Gotha, to whom he proposed after he had seen her accidentally on a journey, passing some days in the house of an acquaintance. Thus it was generally the position and the household which was the object of women, as it still is in many circles of the people. The quiet dreams of the candidates for matrimony were frequently exactly as portrayed by the sober-minded Pütter: "The meals at the restaurant did not answer to their wishes; to eat alone was not to their mind; fellow-boarders were not to be reckoned upon; the household cares concerning the wash, beer, and sugar were disagreeable occupations; and in the evening, when tired after work, to pay visits to others when one did not know whether it was opportune, or to await the visits of others who were themselves in the same dilemma,--all these were circumstances of consideration, experience, and observation, which seemed to prove that one could not be happy continually in one's present position." Undoubtedly also the importance of this step was not all underrated: quiet deliberation lasted long, and a secret wavering between eligible parties was frequent. Therefore in general the matter was left to a benevolent Providence; and an accidental meeting, or the pressing recommendation of a certain person, was still always considered as a sign from above.

Those who so thought, were then the spiritual leaders of the people, the scholars and followers of Leibnitz, Thomasius, and Wolf,--estimable, good, and perhaps very learned men; and also the maidens and wives of the best families. It was certainly an ancient German custom to subordinate the individual; in this most important concern of life, to the judgment and interests of the family; undoubtedly marriage was considered more especially the great business of life which was to be arranged with strict adherence to duty, and not according to the delusive ideas of the fancy. But these sober, sensible views were beginning in 1750 to give way to the higher requirements of the individual Already were men inclined to indulge themselves with a richer mental life and greater independence. When Caroline Lucius modestly but firmly declined the offered hand of the Precentor of Thomas's Church, Gellert felt a little ashamed that he had judged his correspondent by the ordinary criterion, and in his letters afterwards a sincere respect may be observed.

But, however frequently the wooing was deficient in the magic of the most beautiful of earthly passions, the marriages, as far as we can judge, were not on that account the less happy. That one must suit oneself in life is a very popular rule of wisdom. The man who proposed to share a respectable position and a certain income with the object of his choice, offered her much, according to the views of that time; she was to show her gratitude by unceasing faithful service, and to lighten his arduous, laborious life--nay, already had a more exalted feeling taken root in the souls of women, which we may well call the poetry of home. The amount of knowledge acquired by a German woman was on the whole small. If people of rank could not spell, this may be explained by the fluctuations in education between French and German,--by a mongrel culture which spoilt the style even of men, not only of Frederic II. and other rulers, but also of the highest officials, like the Imperial ambassador who wrote to Gellert, and begged him to send back his letter with corrections, that he might thereby learn the secret of good writing. But even the German trained daughter of a well-educated citizen family was generally deficient both in style and correctness of writing. Many women, indeed, learnt French, and in Protestant Germany Italian was more frequently studied than at present; even the students of Halle, under the guidance of their teacher, caused Italian treatises to be printed. In other respects education appears to have done little for women; even instruction in music, beyond the practice of light airs on the harpsichord, was rare.

But so much the more was the practice of house duties inculcated. To look after the welfare and comfort of those around them, of parents and brothers, and afterwards of husbands and children, was the task of the grown-up daughters. That this should be the object of their life was unceasingly impressed upon them; it was understood according to every one's own views. And this care was no longer limited, as in the sixteenth century, to giving orders in the kitchen, the preparation of electuaries, and the arrangements of the linen: women were, during the last century, brought imperceptibly into a worthier position with respect to their husbands--they had become their friends and confidants. Although with perhaps scanty knowledge, many of them could boast of firm minds, clear judgment, and depth of feeling; concerning some of these, information has accidentally remained to us. We find it, also, in the wives of simple artisans. If the men, under the influence of the State and of Pietism, became more timid and less independent, the women of the same period were manifestly more elevated. We will draw a comparison with the past. Let us remember Kate Bora, who begged of the laborious Luther to suffer her to be near him. She sits there for hours silent, holds his pen for him, and gazes with her large eyes on the mysterious head, of her husband; and, anxiously gathering, together in her own mind all her poor knowledge, suddenly breaks out with the question, which, transposing it into the position of 1750, would run thus: "Is the Elector of Brandenburg brother to the King of Prussia?" and when Luther laughingly replies, "He is the same man," his feeling, notwithstanding all his affection, is--"poor simplicity."[86]

On the other hand, in 1723, Elizabeth Gesner, sits opposite her husband in the sitting-room of the Conrectorat at Weimar; he is working at his "Chrestomathie des Cicero," and writes with one hand while he rocks the cradle with the other. Meanwhile Elizabeth industriously mends the clothes of her children, and playfully disputes with the little ones, who object to the patches, till at last the mother proposes to them to cut out the new pieces as sun, moon, and stars, and to sew them on in this beautiful form. The bright light which then shone from the heart of the housewife through the poorly furnished room, and the cheerful smile that played on the countenance of the husband, may be discovered from his account. When she died, after a long and happy union, the grey-headed scholar said: "One of us must remain alone, and I had rather be the forlorn one myself than that she should be so." He followed her a few months later. Again, soon after 1750, we find Frau Professorin Semlerin at Halle, sitting with her industrious husband, some feminine work in her hand; both rejoice that they are together, that he uses his study only as a receptacle for his books, and that she considers all society as a separation from her husband. He has so accustomed himself to work in her presence, that neither the play and laughter, nor even the loud noise, of his children disturb him; he has an unbounded respect for the discretion and judgment of his wife. She rules with unlimited sway in her household; if the excitable man is disquieted by any adverse occurrence, she knows how to smooth it down quickly, in her gentle way. She is his true friend and his best counsellor, even in his relations with the University; his firm support, always full of love and patience, yet she has learnt little, and her letters abound in errors of writing. There will be farther notice of her.

Similar women, simple, deep-feeling, pious, clear-headed, firm and decided, sometimes also with extraordinary vigour and cheerfulness, were at this period so frequent that we may truly reckon them as characteristic of the time. They are the ancestresses and mothers, to whose worth the literary men, poets, and artists who have sprung up in the following generations may attribute a portion of their success. It was not able men, but good housewives,--not the poetry of passion, but the home life of the family,--to which we owe our training during the first half of the last century.

And if we, the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of those who lived when Goethe and Schiller grew up, smile at the constraint of the feelings which appears in the wooings and betrothals of 1750; at the want of genuine tenderness, in spite of the general yearning for tender and pathetic feelings; and at the incapacity to give full expression in language and demeanour to the most exquisite of passions, we must remember, that just then the nation stood at the portals of a new time which was to change this poverty into wealth. The reign of Pietism had introduced a mild sentimentality into the nation; the philosophy of mathematics had spread over language and life a calm brightness, and the following fifty years of intense political activity and powerful productiveness in every realm of science were to bring the nation a richer development of the mental life. After this took place, the German was so far fortified by the good spirit of his home, that, even after the most horrible devastation and destruction, his soul was strengthened, through the interests of private life, for greater tasks and more manly labours. After Spener, Wolf, and Goethe came the volunteers of 1813.

But here we will verify what has been said of the condition, character, and wooing of Germans about the year 1750 by the record of a contemporary. He who speaks has already been mentioned several times in the preceding pages; he is one of whom science will ever preserve a kindly remembrance. Johann Salomo Semler, Professor of Theology at Halle, who lived from 1725 to 1791, was one of the first who broke loose from the orthodox faith of the Protestant Church; and, following their own investigations, ventured, with the help of the scientific culture of the period, to form a judgment on the origin and changes of the church dogmas. His youth was passed in struggle with Pietism, but at the same time, under its dominion, his warm heart clung, as long as it continued to beat, like Luther and the Pietists, to the child-like relation to his God and Father; but, as a scholar, this same man who, in respect to the daily occurrences of life, was so often yielding, uncertain, and dependent on those around him, became bold, decided, and sometimes radical. With him began the criticism of holy traditions; he was the first who ventured to handle systematically the historical development and changes of Christianity, and exhibited theology as an historical process, and as a momentum in the gradual development of the human mind, not logically, and with very deficient understanding of ancient times, but yet according to the laws of science. He veiled from himself the opposition between his faith and his researches in science, by making a rigid distinction, like the Pietists, betwixt religion and theology--betwixt the eternal cravings of human nature, which were satisfied by the old revered forms of revealed faith, and the eternal impulse of the mind to understand every earthly phenomenon. He has been called the Father of Rationalism; in truth he was only an enlightened Pietist, one of those who seem called to prepare, by the union of opposite conceptions, a new life. He was born in Saalfeld, the son of an ecclesiastic, a scholar at Halle of the learned Baumgarten; then for a year the rédacteur of the newspaper at Coburg, and for a year professor of history and poetry at the Nuremberg University of Altorf. He was called back by Baumgarten to Halle, where he, for nearly forty years, combated the old Pietists victoriously, and died one of the most worthy heads of the great University. The following is the account which he himself gives of his love and wooing; it cannot be given here without some small alteration in the language, for Semler has--what is characteristic of him--little in his style of the broad, sure method of his philosophical contemporaries, but much of the indistinct mode of speech of the Pietists. He does not use figurative language nor primitive phrases, but he loves, like them, a certain mysterious circumlocution and remote allusions, that sometimes make the meaning almost incomprehensible and require slow reading. Yet it is necessary to remember one thing, that the following narrative may not disappoint expectation: he who here narrates was in fact a man of worth and refined feeling, who rightly enjoyed the full esteem and veneration of those who lived with him.

Semler has gone through the separation from the family of Baumgarten, has returned as Master of Arts from Halle to his father's house at Saalfeld, and has there renewed his acquaintance with a young lady friend. He relates thus:--

"My residence in Saalfeld did not last long, but was not quite satisfactory to me. I saw, it is true, that worthy friend very often, and we enjoyed ourselves together as much as with our virtuous gravity we could; but there was nothing in it of the rapture or of the great joy which our new contemporaries[87] describe as superhuman in so many novels, or, still more, paint poetically and represent quite sentimentally. It was truly as if we anticipated that this rare harmony of two souls and characters was something too elevated for such a union to fail to our lot. This improbability seemed to me to arise from her situation; to her, from mine, from very different grounds. My prospects were remote, as I could not attain the great happiness of becoming 'Conrector,' to which position even, she was prepared to lower herself. I saw also that I must shortly incur some debts which I could not mention to so estimable a person. Thus I found myself unavoidably dependent, as it were, on any chance prospect. But her parents were rather old, and her brothers and sisters entirely unprovided for: how could she think of pledging herself to me on an uncertainty, and, by making it known, render herself inaccessible to more fortunate admirers? Meanwhile, with tender sadness, we promised each other everything we could, and were convinced of our mutual integrity, but also determined not to place each other in a difficult position.

"My father had written to an old friend at Coburg, Kammerrath, Fick, and begged of him to make some friendly efforts for getting me a situation. This he did honourably and with the best intentions."--(Semler travelled to Coburg, obtained there the title of professor, but without salary; became editor of the "Coburg State and Literary Gazette," and lodged with the widow of Doctor Döbnerin, a cheerful, lively woman, who was glad to converse with him, and put many theological and historical questions to him. It was a quiet, respectable household: one daughter, the Demoiselle Döbnerin, was still at home, about whom the professor, who had much work and little income, concerned himself little. Thus he lived for a year; then he learnt from an acquaintance that a professor was wanted at the University of Altorf, which he could easily obtain, but he must present himself there. This information excited him much; he was powerfully attracted towards the University; he had seen no possibility of it; now a prospect was open to him, but he had no money for the journey--nay, he was in debt to his landlady for rent and board; he long pined away in silence.)

"The doctor's widow, my landlady, remarked that for some days I had not conversed with the cheerfulness that had before pleased her so well, because it gave her the opportunity of introducing her usual complaints and old tales; I was no longer of use to her in this, and, still worse, was always withdrawing from them. So she asked me what was the reason? I was so surprised, that I confessed I had a proposal to be professor at Altorf; it required a quick decision, and I must take it into serious consideration. This information, that I might soon leave, appeared to excite both mother and daughter, and I now began to be sharper in my observations than I had been formerly. Hitherto I had thought nothing about the daughter, who took care of everything in the house, and seldom remained after we had finished our meals, and only treated her according to the laws of civility; and I did not consider it a part of this civility, either to kiss her hand, or to indulge in small talk. The mother, with all her gay vivacity, had kept her daughter very strictly, as she was not quite pleased with the free mode of life which already began to prevail among her sex at Coburg. She maintained the old principles, in which she had herself been brought up in Saalfeld; she had few visitors at her house, as indeed she had not much time for it, so orderly was the manner in which the household was managed. It is true it was called avarice and parsimony, but for a city such housekeeping is very necessary; and those who so willingly spend their money, that they must borrow, should at least not judge ill of the indispensable benefactors from whom they borrow. I knew the daily tranquil enjoyment that pervaded this home, and I found therein assuredly far more happiness than in many others where there were splendour and bustle.

"Now I called to mind that some persons in Coburg had already warned me against this acquaintance, which I nevertheless found so uniformly blameless. I watched more narrowly, and it appeared to me as if I was regarded favourably; only when I came to draw my conclusions, whether I should endeavour to help myself by means of this quiet and virtuous daughter, my heart fell within me. What reason had I to entertain any hopes, as I had for nearly a whole year been guilty of marked inattention? She had already refused a professor, and I knew other proofs of her acting with independent and not over hasty deliberation, where many others, from an inclination to vanity, would have decided hastily. It was the less probable that she would accept me, as I had no outward advantages to offer. I nevertheless showed greater attention, both to mother and daughter, than I had done hitherto, but still undecided in my mind.

"At this time I wrote to my sister at Saalfeld; the contents of this letter were sad enough; it was to this effect, that on account of some small debts, merely caused by the difficulty of raising money, I should be obliged to renounce altogether the dear friend of that place, who nevertheless, I honoured profoundly. I was not in a position to follow the bent of my affections.

"If I was to attempt to borrow money in Saalfeld, my father would certainly prevent it, as I had clearly remarked, that he had always endeavoured to dissuade me from my plans, and admonished me not to run counter to Providence by over haste. I passed many sorrowful hours before I received an answer from Saalfeld, and still more when I did receive it, and found that this separation was finally settled. Very serious reflections upon many similar cases tranquillised me by degrees, although my high esteem for that worthy young person was unalterable.

"But so much the more I felt my very insignificant position; and, thus truly humiliated, I reproached myself continually. I asked myself whether I was to call upon this dutiful and virtuous daughter to give so much money for me, of which she certainly had as little thought as her mother; for it was undoubtedly not with this view that she had shown me so many courtesies. She had long considered me as having a decided inclination for some one; she often reminded me in a friendly way about Halle, and how I had often praised openly and with such great feeling the incomparable Dr. Baumgarten; and just because I had shown so much diffidence and lively feeling with regard to Halle, she had thought favourably of me, and had assumed that I had a settled engagement there. How was I now all at once to convince her that it was otherwise, without giving an open field for divers detrimental thoughts and observations on myself? I alone know how entirely depressed was my spirit at this time; how I spent my days and nights restless and dejected, till at last I learnt to bow myself to the universal law of God's government.

"I more than once perplexed myself again with strong doubts whether I was important enough for Divine Providence to occupy Himself with me, and whether all my anxieties were not the consequences of my faults and my inconsiderate conduct; in short, I could no longer continue in this depressing condition, as I had no time to lose in complaints. I must announce myself at Nuremberg so many days before Petri Pauli. Now I wrote two letters, one to the mother, and inclosed in it another to the daughter, wherein I revealed my views, but at the same time distinctly showed my present position, and appealed to their own knowledge and judgment of my principles, and confided myself to them. It was impossible for me by word of mouth to express so carefully and clearly all the necessary details.

"This letter I took with me when I went to supper, and placed it in the mother's prayer-book, which always lay by her place, so that the letter must, without fail, come into her hands this same evening. I did not otherwise allow anything to be perceived, but went away somewhat earlier than I had hitherto done, that there might be more time left for the discovery, and for their deliberation.

"In the letter I begged of the mother, if she found what I proposed was decidedly objectionable, that she would not lay the letters before her daughter, but would send them both back to me, and then would kindly ascribe my too great confidence to her indulgence. In proportion as my life had been hitherto solitary, the deeper was the impression made in my soul by my anxious and uncertain wishes; my spirit now began to raise itself more earnestly to God in a deep and entire submission, that I might more and more be weaned from the trivial occurrences of life and their results, by looking to eternity. I found an increase of tranquillity, and a contented submission to all the dispensations of Providence, which I had long so vainly endeavoured to create in myself.

"Three days passed, during which we met as inmates of the same house, as though nothing had passed between us which required an answer, and I was persuaded that it was a kind way of sparing my feelings, that my proposal was to be buried in silence, as they wished to relieve me from an unpleasant explanation. As usual, I was always too desponding. The following Sunday--it was the 10th of June, 1751--as I was leaving the table after dinner, the Frau Doctorin asked me to drink a cup of coffee with her that afternoon. Still she kept her countenance so completely, that I could not promise myself much advantage from this invitation. The next two hours I spent promenading in the open air, in a very composed state of mind, recalling many vanished ideas and wishes, and in much sorrow at the prospect of my shortly impending journey, which must now take me far from Saalfeld and Halle.[88] Thus I did not return very soon, and went straight to her room. I immediately discovered such an expression of natural, earnest, and approving friendship in the countenance of the mother, who came forward to meet me, that I could no longer doubt the success of my proposal, and my feelings also became equally visible when I began to speak. The feelings of all three were similar and showed themselves perceptibly in our eyes, a kind of joyful solemnity ensued, and we all three returned thanks to God. The mother laid before me the two letters, and asked, 'Do you confess that you have written these?' 'Oh, yes,' I said, and kissed her hand. She kissed me warmly, and assured me of her most hearty approbation.

"The daughter very soon after lost her heretofore shyness, and raised her eyes pleasantly, because she knew it did not displease her mother, and she had now a right to make herself pleasant. We had neither of us had any romantic training, otherwise she would not have waited for this till I had spoken and had obtained the mothers consent. Thus this affair, which was so difficult and so important for me, took a smooth course, without the intervention of any other person, or the employment of those arts or intrigues with which brides are entrapped by many.

"It is not necessary for me to tell the holy and humble thankfulness of my soul to God, nor how much I endeavoured to preserve my inward peace and tranquillity, in spite of the gossip that followed upon this my resolution.

"I immediately investigated the character of my bride; she had an agreeable aspect, although the smallpox, which she had passed through after she was grown up, had materially injured her complexion. Her education had been carried on partly under the eyes of a grandmother and an excellent aunt, partly by the mother, who kept a tutor for her and her brother. After the death of the father, the mother and daughter had lived in great retirement. But she had only the more cultivated all those qualifications which are most advantageous to her sex; her judgment was so good, that her mother generally preferred it to her own in household arrangements. The style of her letters was good, the handwriting pretty and even, and there were very few faults of orthography. In this she excelled all her many relations. Accounts she understood far better than her mother, and had, when scarcely fifteen years of age, during a long absence of her mother, so accurately reckoned up the details of an income of 1800 gulden, that there was nothing missing. She had for some years kept her own accounts in respect of a property which she had inherited from an uncle at Coburg, amounting to a thousand gulden or more. She had learned to dance, and held herself well, but was not particularly fond of it; her head-dresses she made herself, and many of her clothes, and always in good taste. This pleasure in the work of her own hands was considered by others of her own age, who had no such pleasure in it, as the result of great parsimony, which it certainly was not, as I shall presently show.

"We now associated more freely, and during the few remaining days of my stay, often walked together, especially in the great garden on the Lossau. There we sat, sometimes under the trees overlooking the city. She was so frank with me, that she said to me of her own accord, 'Now you must exert yourself, and take some control over me, to wean me from the faults which long solitude has engendered in me. I may, by my devotion perhaps, and by my pure good heart, recommend myself to you; but, as we must mix with many people and become a portion of the so-called great world, you must help me, that I may not then appear to disadvantage, till I can myself judge rightly with respect to externals. For you are superior to me in understanding and in the refinements of language and social intercourse.' This honesty brought tears into my eyes. She wept with me, asking whether I now repented, and whether I had not long known these defects of hers?

"In answer to this, I said, 'I have more cause to be uneasy than you, lest you should repent of having given your hand and heart to a Professor, whom you will soon find deficient in all external means, although very laborious. And now I will lay before you all my anxieties, entirely without reserve. You know it is true that my father can give me nothing; but you do not know that I cannot at present pay you for board and lodging, and that I must incur many small debts, that we may leave Coburg in suitable style.'

"She looked at me tenderly, and said: 'If you have really no other cause for uneasiness, I am truly very happy to say that I can help to place you in a better position. Think, therefore, only of making me more worthy of you, that I may not injure you in society. I am mistress of my own fortune, in the management of which I have hitherto sometimes asked advice of Dr. Berger, as my guardian. He esteems you too highly, for him to put the least obstacle in the way of my serving you when I wish to do so.'

"Thus this worthy person has always evinced an unselfish, honourable manner of thinking, and relieved me from all shame and uneasiness about my position.

"Now I began to think about my journey, that I might not arrive too late at Nuremberg.

"At Nuremberg there were still very many features of great antiquity, which made much impression on me. Birkmann, preacher at the church of St. Giles, had kindly offered that I should take up my quarters with him. I was received by him very lovingly, and he gave me a room up-stairs, in which were his books; a neighbourhood which was very useful to me, as I was able in the evening to search out some accounts of Nuremberg, that everything might not be so entirely strange to me. As soon as I possibly could I presented myself before the gentlemen of the council, in the great hall of the Council-house, at the hour when they entered the hall from their separate rooms. The great impression made on me by this grand building, and the unusual circumstances in which I was placed, had a good effect upon me, so that I with modesty and emotion spoke out freely, which, together with my pressing recommendations, obtained me the gracious approbation of these venerable persons. Herr von Ebner, whose own learning and noble manner of thinking filled every one with respect, desired me afterwards to be told that he expected me in the afternoon at his house. I sought to recover the composure of my mind, that I might be distracted as little as possible by so many unexpected events, and turn this visit the more to my advantage. As this gentleman was almost blind I was deprived of much assistance, for by an unaffected modest attitude, which I always liked, I had elsewhere frequently procured myself a hearing, even from those who hitherto had been prepossessed against me. After I had stood some minutes, and had expressed my feelings of gratitude in the best sentences I could utter, avoiding equally bombast and common-place, he said: 'Herr Professor, your voice and speech please me so much that I regret not being able to see you distinctly. Seat yourself near me; I must speak to you on various things. The great man whom we have lost, Professor Schwarz, has especially and confidentially recommended you to me; but there is truly no want of competitors for the place which he has vacated.' Now he came to my 'miscellaneas lectiones' parts of which had been read to him, and asked so many particulars that the conversation resembled an examination. At last he said to me, with evident pleasure, 'You are just the man; if I say it you will be chosen. I heartily wish you happiness for yourself and Altorf.' Then he caused Trident wine to be brought, and the servant was not to allow the glass to stand empty. Now he was so gracious, that when I rose he said, 'If I can provide you with a rich wife, tell me so straightforwardly.' I kissed his hand reverently, pressed it with my forehead, and said at once, with great feeling, 'I thank you.' 'I shall be all the better pleased,' he said, 'if you have no disquiet in your outward life.' He desired me, when I returned again from Altorf, to ask for him; meanwhile he took me into his garden, and wished to talk on other matters with me, which afterwards took place. I must say that such noble affability, and active regard, as were shown by the gentlemen of Nuremberg to their men of learning, I have seldom met with elsewhere.

"The preacher Birkmann travelled with me to Altorf. On the way I thought it right to give the excellent man to understand that Herr von Ebner had wished to make a good marriage for me; but I had found it necessary already at Coburg to discharge this duty, and free myself from the anxiety, so that all other well-meant arrangements were useless. Meanwhile I revolved many new thoughts in my mind.

"I arrived safely at Coburg, and brought the vocation with me. On the 26th August, 1751, the amiable Döbnerin was married to me in the sacristy."--

Thus far we give the account of the husband, who, in the further course of his autobiography, takes every opportunity of expressing his love and admiration for the wife of his choice, and composed a special eulogy on her after death. Unfortunately no letter has been preserved from the Frau Professorin, whose style was so much praised by the Professor. But a love-letter will be given of the year 1750, from one of her circle of Coburg acquaintance,[89] which one may presume gives pretty accurately the style of the Demoiselle Döbnerin; the same customary forms and artificial tenderness under which the warm feelings of a human heart are only occasionally perceptible. This letter, from a betrothed to her intended in Coburg, runs thus:--

"Chosen one of my heart! As I do not doubt that the holy Christmas season will have brought with it to my loved child all its best and most desired blessings, so do I hope that the good God will mercifully hear my fervent prayers, and pour upon him in rich measure so much health, bliss, and all pleasures, that I may continually have cause to praise Him. I also send my congratulations on the approaching new year, and will express my sincere heartfelt wishes in these few words: 'Most Highest, hear my prayer! for the sake of my dearest child take the half of my life and add it to his years, so will my temporal welfare which germinates through his goodness soon develope the ripe fruit of bliss, in spite of the foaming of envy and malevolence.'

"My love has given me very great pleasure by his agreeable letter, as I have seen that he, whose frequent occupations might easily cause me to be forgotten, has not been hindered from thinking most kindly of me, therefore I return my beloved my most bounden thanks. He was pleased in his dear letter to mention that the ring is ready, but it is not stated what I am to pay for it, I therefore expect in the next a few lines concerning this, and also touching the honourable brother-in-law.

"If my beloved desires that I should know or look after aught else, may it please him to speak out freely: his orders shall at all times be commands to me. To the most highly-esteemed Frau Mamma and the Frau Schwester I send my dutiful congratulations on this new year, and request of them further their gracious favour. My papa and mamma send equally their compliments, and wish my beloved to enjoy in undisturbed contentment all blessings and prosperity. We expect with great desire a kind answer, and my papa is the more desirous to receive one, as he himself dictated mamma's letter. I am anxious to learn what resolution his honour has come to touching this matter. I beg leave, my heart, to send with this a bad specimen of my workmanship for a waistcoat, humbly requesting his honour not to regard the smallness of its value, but rather the goodwill with which it is given, for I assure him there are not as many stitches in it, as there are good wishes accompanying it. In conclusion, I remain, with constant esteem,

"My beloved one's

"Most affectionate

"C. C. K.

"A. Monsieur, Monsieur ... at Coburg."

So cautious, formal, and florid were the love-letters of a true-hearted frank maiden, like the dear wife of Professor Semler.

But he himself, Johann Salomo Semler,--the father of modern theology, long the highly-honoured head of the University, who, in his scientific views, was a bolder, rasher man than his older contemporaries,--how should we judge him, if measured by the standard of our time? Because he has no money for his journey, and some debts in Coburg, he determines to marry; he informs his love in Saalfeld of his situation, and woos the daughter of his wealthy landlady, to whom hitherto he had appeared indifferent. The like of this in our time, speaking mildly, would be called--pitiful. And yet when the aged Professor gave his narrative to the public, he plainly assumed that his conduct would not appear dishonourable in the eyes of his contemporaries. There is no reason to doubt that the friends of his youth thought exactly the same, perhaps somewhat less conscientiously. When he was young, what rights had the heart of a poor scholar against a cold, tyrrannical world? Little as yet. What was the aim and object of his life? To learn and labour from early mom till dead of night, in order to instil his painfully gained knowledge into other souls, to spread by writings and teaching, all that was important and new that he searched out, descried, or conceived. Therein lay his highest duty and honour, the object and pride of his earthly days; to this must his private life be adapted and accommodated. Thus it was not only the few, that felt a burning ambition, it was a general feeling, as with Semler, in many hundreds who starved, bowed themselves before the powerful and changed their faith, in order to be able to live for science. There is nothing noble in this, but it is nevertheless a seeking after something nobler; it is the old German yearning for something to be devoted to, which is immeasurably more estimable than devotion to self. Let manly power be united with such a tone of mind, together with the feeling of being a ruler upon earth, and something will arise which all following ages will call great and good.

FOOTNOTES:

Footnote 1: In this battle (A.D. 9) Armin defeated the Romans, and freed Germany.

Footnote 2: J. Arends, in "East Friesland and Jever" (vol. ii. p. 190), has collected traces of ancient culture on the excavated ground. The coast of the North Sea, from Borkum to Schleswig, stretched, in the time of the Romans, probably farther to the north; the encroachment of the sea had already begun at the time that Pliny wrote, and since that it has taken more than it has given. The Dollart and the Zuyderzee (1164) were formed by several great inundations after the Crusades, and the Jahde in the fifteenth century.

Footnote 3: The smoked meats of Germany were named as an article of traffic under Diocletian.

Footnote 4: Thus, for example, in the monastery of Alpirspach, in the Black Forest, from which Ambrosius Blaurer escaped in 1622, a certain holy Pelagius and John the Baptist had both their vassals, who rejoiced in peculiar privileges.

Footnote 5: Dialogue of "New Karsthans." This is the fictitious name assumed by Ulrich von Hutten, the author of a political squib at that period.

Footnote 6: Seifried Helbling, viii., in Moriz Haupt, periodical for German Antiquity, Vol. iv., p. 164. The Austrian knight laments the intrusion of the peasant into his order as an abuse. He wrote, according to Karajan, the eighth of his little books about 1298.

Footnote 7: The quaint way in which the old language is here mixed with foreign dialects cannot be rendered.

Footnote 8: Our word pferd (horse), then the Roman elegant word for the German horse.

Footnote 9: Duke Ernst of Swabia, a celebrated poem of the middle ages.

Footnote 10: These names could hardly have been invented by Helmbrecht, to characterise the robbers; it is probable, from what follows, that the like wild nicknames were humorously given by the nobles themselves, and used as party names.

Footnote 11: The old German wedding custom. In the thirteenth century the Church had seldom any concern in the nuptials of country people and courtlings. It was only in the fourteenth century it began to be considered unrefined not to have the blessing of a priest. When our junkers declaim against civil marriages they forget that it was the fashion of their forefathers.

Footnote 12: An ancient popular superstition. It was similar with the wooers in the "Odyssey" before their end.

Footnote 13: This song is to be found in Kornmann's "Frau Veneris Berg," 1614 p. 306. Similar songs in Uhland.

Footnote 14: The great poet for the people, a native of Nuremberg.

Footnote 15: Means Hoejack, which was adopted by Ulrich von Hutten as a characteristic title of a political squib in defence of the peasantry.--Trans.

Footnote 16: Quaint title of a series of pamphlets denouncing abuses in Church and State, published about 1521.--Trans.

Footnote 17: A colloquy between a fox and wolf, in the "Staigerwaldt," 1524, p. 6. Under the similitude of a wolf and fox two fugitive junkers of the Sickingen party discourse together. The plundering of the nobles having been strongly spoken of, the wolf says: "By this voracity, we have made enemies of many citizens and peasants, who have lately bound themselves to take away all our lives, if they can catch us." Fox: "Who are these citizens and peasants?" Wolf: "Those who live in Upper Swabia, Augsburg, Ulm, Kempten, Bibrach, Memmingen, and by the Neckar, and the Nurembergers and Bavarians on the frontier."

Footnote 18: Full details of the sufferings of the country people during the war will be found in the second volume of "The Pictures of German life."

Footnote 19: "Imperial Privileges and Sanctions for Silesia," vols. i., p. 166; iii., 759.

Footnote 20: Ib., vol. i., pp. 150-59.

Footnote 21: "Imperial Privileges and Sanctions for Silesia," vol. i., p. 125.

Footnote 22: Ib., vol. i., p. 138.

Footnote 23: Seven hundred and fifty of these have been reckoned by C. H. von Lang, in his "Historical Development of German Taxation," 1793.

Footnote 24: F. von Liebenroth: "Fragments from my Diary," 1701, p. 159. The writer was a Saxon officer, a sensible and loyal man.

Footnote 25: District regulations for the Principalities of Oppeln and Ratibor of the year 1561.

Footnote 26: The provincial ordinances for the Principalities of Oppeln and Ratibor, year 1561.

Footnote 27: Von Hohberg: "Country Life of the Nobles," 1687. See the Introduction.

Footnote 28: Imperial Privil. and Sanct., vol. iv., p. 1213.

Footnote 29: One may nearly estimate the proportion of the peasants to the collective population of Germany, about 1750, at from 65 to 70 per cent.; of these four-fifths were villeins, thus more than half the people.

Footnote 30: "The Exposure of the Vices, Morals, and Evils of the thick-skinned, coarse-grained, and wicked Peasantry," by Veroandro, of Truth Castle, 1684. The author appears to have been the same clergyman who added verses to the later editions of the Simplicissimus, and pointed the moral.

Footnote 31: "The Happy and Unhappy Peasantry," p. 178. Frankfort, s. a. About 1700.

Footnote 32: "Lasterprob," p. 82.

Footnote 33: "The Happy and Unhappy Peasant Class." p. 155.

Footnote 34: "Kurtze Beschreibung, der Acker-Leuthe und Ehrenlob," p. 33. Hof. 1701.

Footnote 35: "Imperial Privil. and Sanct.," vols. ii., p. 584; v., 1511.

Footnote 36: F. von Liebenroth, p. 146.

Footnote 37: Supreme Court of the Empire.

Footnote 38: J. V. Bohlen; "Georg von Behr; A picture of Pomeranian Life," p. 24, 1859.

Footnote 39: Imp. Priv. and Sanct., 1577, 1602, 1617, vols. i., 93, 100; iii., 1108.

Footnote 40: Even in the years 1602 and 1617; Ib., vol. iii, 1107.

Footnote 41: A well-known literary society.--Tr.

Footnote 42: Dietrich von Kracht, the Brandenburg colonel, was called in this society "the Biter;" his herb was the horseradish.

Footnote 43: This complaint may be found in "Imp. Sanct.," 9th Feb., 1684.

Footnote 44: For most of these details from the manuscript diary of an Austrian, Baron von Teuffel, in 1672 and the following years, the Editor has to thank the kindness of Graf Wolf Baudissin.

Footnote 45: Compare this with the Silesian Robinson, Oct. 8, 1723, vol. i., p. 16. The first part of this Robinsonade is a vivid sketch from the diary of a Silesian noble, which appears to be lost.

Footnote 46: P. Winckler, "The Nobleman," p. 510.

Footnote 47: We are averse to quoting the erotic books which corrupted German readers; we shall only mention a short and scarce tale, wherein some such orgies are described after the Dutch original: "The Perverted, but at the same time Converted, Soldier Adrian Wurmfeld von Orsoy," by Crispinus Bonifacius von Düsseldorp, p. 4. 1675. 4to.

Footnote 48: Pfeffersäcke, Pepper-sack, and Krippenreiter, a poor country Squire, who rides about living on the bounty of the gentry.--Tr.

Footnote 49: The Student's cap used in sham fights.

Footnote 50: In 1603 this was already denounced from Vienna; the abuse became very bad during the war.--Kais. Privil. und Sanct., vol. i., p. 117.

Footnote 51: Kais. Privil. und Sanct., vol. iv., p. 1125.

Footnote 52: Kais. Privil. und Sanct., vol. i, p. 377, year 1712.

Footnote 53: Kais. Privil. und Sanct., vol. iii., pp. 989 and 1021.

Footnote 54: J. B. von Bohr, "Ceremoniel Wissenschaft," p. 229.

Footnote 55: J. B. von Bohr, ibid., p. 33.

Footnote 56: For when the splendid prince had arrived at the object of his wishes by countless bribery to the Polish grandees, and after he had proved his new Catholicism to his party--less through the enforced testimony of the Pope than by the expenditure of some thalers and a half measure of brandy to each noble elector--then, at his eventful coronation on the 5th of September, 1697, the inventive powers of the chamberlain were strained to the uttermost, for the costume was to be antique, at the same time Polish and also fashionable and suitable to a cavalier. Therefore the king wore on his well-powdered head a Polish cap with a heron's plume; on his body a strong golden breastplate, over his short French breeches a short Roman tunic, on his feet sandals, over all a blue ermine cloak; the whole dress covered with splendid precious stones. He became faint at the coronation, and it was doubtful whether it was owing to the uncomfortable costume or to shame. The Poles ate on this day three roast oxen, while at the Emperor's coronation at Frankfort only one was customary.--Compare Förster, "Höfe und Cabinette Europas," vol. iii., p. 51.

Footnote 57: Letters of recommendation entitling the holder to sustenance in some ecclesiastical foundation.--Tr.

Footnote 58: She certainly was not a girl of loose character, as Hüllmann in the "Städtewesen," vol. ii., assumes; on the contrary, she passed in the sports as the symbol of a city which was supposed to be under the protection of the Holy Virgin, and, till the time of Tilly, boasted of never having been taken. It is possible that the maiden may have been a serf, but this is not certain.

Footnote 59: Wolffgang Ferber, Prietzschenmeister--jest maker--"Gründliche Beschreibung eines fürnehmen fürstlichen Armbrustschiessens zu Coburg," 1614.

Footnote 60: On a Franconian gem of the sixteenth century an archer and a crossbow are portrayed.--Bechstein Museum, II., figure 4.

Footnote 61: For example, in the circular of the Meiningens, 1579, "crooked or straight rifled barrels are forbidden." Quarrels must have arisen sometimes concerning this at the public shooting meetings, for in 1563 Elector August of Saxony decided that rifled barrels should only be allowed, if all the shooters agreed to it.

Footnote 62: Pritschmeister, a species of Merry Andrew--master of the ceremonies and provost marshal.--Tr.

Footnote 63: The favourite preamble of their poem. They wander poor and full of cares into the free expanse of nature; then comes joyful news of a shooting meeting. It was undoubtedly traditional, and it was a fitting and refined beginning, which one learned from the other.

Footnote 64: Wolfgang Ferber. "Gründliche beschreibung eines Armbrust Schiessens zu Coburg." 1614.

Footnote 65: A square coin.

Footnote 66: Welser-Gasser, "Chronika von Augspurg," p. 182.

Footnote 67: Compare vol. ii of "Pictures of German Life," chap. "Rogues and Adventurers."

Footnote 68: Benedict Edlbeck, pritschmeister: "Ordentliche beschreibung des grossen Schiessen in Zwickau," 1574, p. 82.

Footnote 69: Even the valiant Quad von Kinkelbach counts this as one of the wonders of Frankfort: "Teutscher Nation Herlichbuit," 1609, p. 171. Compare it with Christoff Rösener: "Ehren Tittel der Ritterlichen Freyen Kunst der Fechter," 1589, p. 4. The Federfechter gave their freedom to their scholars at princes' courts; also, for example, at Dresden, 1614, at the great Schaufechter which followed the prize-shooting, where a Fechter was stabbed by a rapier.--Wolffgang Ferber's "Relation eines fürnehmen Stahlschiessens zu Dresden," 1614.

Footnote 70: Derisive terms applied to certain localities.--Tr.

Footnote 71: Invitation circular of the Kehlheimers in "Bairische Annalen."

Footnote 72: The Swiss also were subject to the pritschmeister. In the woodcut on the title-page of the curious poem "Aussreden der Schützen von Hans Heinrich Grob, Zürich, 1602," there is delineated a rifle shooting, in which the pritschmeister, in complete fool's dress, is castigating two Shooters in the way above described.

Footnote 73: Called Königsschiessen, as a king was elected for the occasion.--Tr.

Footnote 74: An open space round the town.--Tr.

Footnote 75: A court entertainment, representing life in an inn.--Tr.

Footnote 76: Von Rohr, "Ceremoniel-Wissenschaft," p. 261.

Footnote 77: "De ratione status in Imperio nostro Romano-Germanico, 1640." The expression is not invented by Chemnitz, it had been introduced before him in diplomatic jargon by the Italians--their ragione di Dominio, or di Stato (in Latin, ratio status; in French, raison d'estat; in German, Staatsklugheit) denotes the method of dealing in the finesses of politics, a system of unwritten maxims of government in which only practical statesmen were versed.

Footnote 78: The title runs thus: "Idolum Principium, that is, the rulers' idol, which they worship in these days and call Ratio Status, described in a not fabulous fable, after the manner of history."

Footnote 79: "Lebens Beschreibung Johannis Petersen," 1717; 2nd edit. 1719, 8. "Leben Frauen Johanna Eleonora Petersen," 1718; 2nd edit. 1719, 8.

Footnote 80: The stranger was Spener.

Footnote 81: The father now held a situation at a pious court; the princess, whose attendant he was, was an active promoter of the match.

Footnote 82: A special virtue was ascribed by the superstitious not only to inherited metal but to inherited knowledge, particularly of smiths, shepherds, and executioners.

Footnote 83: Mounted mercenaries who had no groom boy. The einspänner performed in peace the service of gensdarmes.

Footnote 84: The Duke of Holstein is Bishop of Lubeck. The court preacher called him, according to the case, his duke or bishop. This double position of the weak prince, and his conduct, denote the helpless condition of the Protestant Church.

Footnote 85: J. M. von Loen, "Der Adel," 1732, pp. 133-4.

Footnote 86: He related the story later with glee; his wife, from living with him, had become quite different. But Kate's question, whether the German Commander-in-Chief was brother of the Prussian Duke, appeared so extraordinary to Luther, because just then, 1526, all details concerning Albrecht of Prussia were discussed in the circle of the Wittenbergers; and she, the most closely united to Luther, knew nothing of him. Katherine had then already lived in the families of friends at Wittenberg two years, so that it was not entirely the fault of the convent that she sat so quiet and helpless in the house of her husband.

Footnote 87: Dr. Johann Salomo Semler's "Lebensbeschriebung," drawn up by himself, 2nd part, appeared in 1781. The here-mentioned lady friend is not named; she appears to have been noble, or of the higher official class.

Footnote 88: He sought for composure by thinking of both the demoiselles, in Halle and Saalfeld.

Footnote 89: The letter is given, because its purport is almost identical with one written by the beautiful Ursula Freherin to her bridegroom in 1598, in vol. i. of "Pictures of German Life," p. 233. For the letter here published the Editor has to thank Baron Ernst von Stockmar.

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