Ridicule majis hoc dictum, quam verè æstimo,Quando et formosos sæpe inveni pessimos,Et turpi facie multos cognovi optimus.Phædrus.
Ridicule majis hoc dictum, quam verè æstimo,Quando et formosos sæpe inveni pessimos,Et turpi facie multos cognovi optimus.
Phædrus.
Pittschaft.--Ah, if we could but first rightly understand the changes in the brain itself. But a great visible change in the brain may be a very little change for the soul, andvice versa. And how will people draw conclusions from the very vault of the brain?
Mr. Traveller.--But, gentlemen, recollect how often phrenologists, from the outward form of the skull, have drawn correct conclusions. Recollect the allocation of distinguished heads as they are to be seen in plaster in the English and German museums.
Freisleben.--Yes, they have drawn some very neat conclusions, but we know very well how that stands. The false conclusions have been carefully put out of sight; and yet sufficient of them have come to the daylight to render the phrenologists ridiculous. They are, indeed, often still more innocent, the worthy demonstrators only seeing that which they knew very well before. Recollect also what a sagacious German naturalist says:--"The proof of the demonstration which the phrenologist makes is, in most cases, as superficial as the demonstration itself. Let a man eat a shovelful of salt, according to the prescription of Aristotle, with the person upon whose head and heart he makes so superficial a judgment, and he will then find what will become of his former judgment. But to err is human, and that not exclusively, for it is sometimes the fate of angels." Talent, and the endowments of the spirit, generally have no signs in the solid portion of the head. To prove this, let the selected casts of thinking heads, and selected ones of fools and not-thinking men, be placed side by side; and not the head of the learned man, of a careful education, be placed in opposition to that of the worst specimen of the totally uneducated country booby. Bedlam is peopled with inhabitants, who, if they did not stand staring as if chilled into stone, or smiling at the stars, or listening to the song of the angels, or would blow out the dog-star, or stood trembling with folded arms,--if, in fact, they were not judged by these aberrations, but by the shape of their heads alone, would command the highest respect. Still less can we draw correct conclusions from the shape of the living head than from the bare skull itself. A skilful artist, without exceeding the bounds of the probable, would be able to cast in wax a covering of muscles and skin for the head of any skeleton, and give it an expression which should possess any aspect that he pleased. And thus may the skull of a living person be, in reality, so covered with an irregular mass of muscular and cuticular integuments, as shall give an equally delusive effect.
Von Kronen.--whose attention had become excited by this illustration--here interposed. What an immeasurable leap from the exterior of the body to the interior of the soul! Had we a sense which enabled us to discover the inner quality of bodies, yet would such a leap still be a daring one. It is a well established fact, that the instrument does not make the artist; and many a one with a fork and a goosequill would make better sketches than another with an English case of instruments. Sound manly sense soon sees into this; it is only the passion for innovation, and an idle sophistry, soothing itself with false hopes, which will not see it. If a ship-captain answered a fellow who offered himself to his service with enthusiasm--"Thy will is good, but, nevertheless, thou art of no use to me. Thy shoulders are too narrow, and thou art too small altogether for the service," then must the good fellow probably put his hand on his mouth; but if the captain said, "Thou actest like a worthy fellow, but I see by thy figure that thou constrainest thyself at this moment, and art a scamp in thy heart;" in truth, such an address would, in any place, to the end of the world, be answered by any honest fellow with a box on the ear.
Mr. Traveller.--You will make me in the end suspicious of the whole circle of physics, or otherwise I must believe that you allow no place to the phrenologist amongst natural philosophers.
Freisleben.--I permit him freely to class himself amongst the naturalists; but he must attempt to take no greater rank amongst them than thesoi-disantpolitical prophet does amongst subtle statesmen. But one can by no means class the genuine natural philosopher and the phrenologist and physiognomist together. The first err often humanly, the others err continually and monstrously.
While this discussion had grown warm, amongst the others a lively conversation had arisen on recent literature. They gave their opinions on the recent English romances of Bulwer and Marryat, which then were the order of the day. They condemned some of the later productions of the French. They contended for and against the influence of the young Germany; criticised Gutzhow's newest romance; and soon were upon a general theme, the different tendency of the public in England and Germany. There the preference for popular representation; the neglect of scientific reading, together with the very superficial school education; here, on the contrary, reverence for science, and over-driven grasping after scientific things, and a passion to be learned, which especially shows itself repulsively in the ladies, when they are carried away into the scientific vortex; they bewailed the wretched mass of rubbish that was now read, and especially that the Germans by reading too much did themselves injury. That, in particular, in the schools the children were held more to learning by rote than to thinking; at the same time thankfully acknowledging that it was sought with all diligence, to correct this error in the new Folks' Schools. "In England," says Freisleben, "one finds more original character in company, and amongst the common people, as may be seen in the English writings. In Germany it is totally different. And if any one stumbles on an original discovery, how long it continues, till his discovery, and till he himself become known. In Germany the greatest discoveries have been made, but they weighed them, and doubted so long whether they were new and would be useful, that their neighbours the French or the English seized on them, and secured the advantages of them to themselves."
Eckhard.--No nation feels so much the worth of other nations as the Germans; and yet is, alas! so little regarded by most of them, even for this obeisance.
Enderlin.--I think the other nations are quite in the right. A nation that would please all, deserves to be despised of all. This has been pretty much the case with Germany, and it is only just now that other people have learned to estimate her properly.
Von Kronen.--Lichtenberg in his time said justly--"The character of the Germans lies in two words: patriam fugimus."--Virgil.
Hoffmann.--Yes, Lichtenberg--thatis an original character! I have learned to prize him properly from Von Kronen. Yesterday, for the first time, I read his famous essay on the state of the German Romance of his time. It pleased me so much that I must read it out to you. It is short, and will at least be finished before the Phrenologists and Anti-Phrenologists there have finished their discussion.
Our mode of living is become so simple, and all our customs so little mysterious; our cities are, for the most part, so small, the land so open; all is so simply true, that a man who is desirous to write a German romance, hardly knows how he is to bring the people together, or to lay his plot. Then, as the mothers now in Germany suckle their own children, there is an end of all exchanging them, and a fountain of emotion is thus stopped, that is not to be purchased with money. If I would persuade a maiden to come out in man's clothes, that is immediately discovered, and the servants betray it, before she can get out of the house; and besides, our ladies are educated in such housewifely notions that they have not the heart in them to do any thing of the kind. No, to sit fine by mamma, to cook and to sew, and to become themselves cooks and sewing mothers, that is their business. It is undoubtedly very convenient for them, but it's a shame to the Fatherland, and an invincible obstacle to the romance writer.
In England, people think that if two persons of the same sex sleep in the same room, a fever is unavoidable, on which account the people in one house are by night, for the most part separated, and a writer has only to take care that he sets open the house-door, and he can let who he will into the house, and need not fear that any body will awake sooner than he would have them. Furthermore, in England the chimneys are not merely the channels of smoke, but the especial windpipes of the chambers, and afford at the same time such an excellent way to come down into any room of the house, at once and unheard, that I have often been told that he who had once gone up and down a chimney would prefer it to a staircase.
In Germany a lover would make a pretty journey if he were to come down a chimney! Yes, if he had a mind to fall into a fire-hearth, or into a wash-kettle with lye, or into an anti-chamber with two or three stoves, which one probably could not open from within at all. And suppose one should let the lover come down into the kitchen, the question then is, which way would you bring him first upon the roof? The cats in Germany can take this way to their loves, but not men. On the contrary, in England, the roofs make a kind of street which sometimes are better than those on the ground; and when a man is upon one, it costs him then no further trouble to get upon another than to run across a village street in winter.
People will say that those contrivances have been hit upon on account of fires; but as these scarcely occur once in one hundred and fifty years in any house, so I conceive that they have rather been found advantageous to lovers driven to extremity and to thieves, who very often take this way, when they might have chosen others, and certainly always when a hasty retreat is necessary, exactly as the witches and the devil are wont to do in Germany. Finally, a right powerful prevention of intrigues is that otherwise fine and praiseworthy conceit of the post-directors in Germany, by whom a vast amount of the virtues of the times are preserved, since instead of the English coaches and chaises, in which a princess in the most delicate condition would neither fear nor be ashamed to travel, they have substituted those so-beloved open Rumpelwagen. For what mischief the convenient coaches and the most excellent highways of England may occasion, is not to be expressed by words.
For, in the first place, if a maiden goes out of London with her lover of an evening, they may be in France ere the father awoke, or in Scotland ere he has come to resolve with his relations what he shall do; therefore, a writer has need of neither fairies, conjurors, nor talismans in order to bring the beloved into security, since if he can only bring them to Charing-Cross or Hyde-Park Corner, they are as safe as if they were in Weaver Melek's chest in the Persian Tales.
On the contrary, in Germany, if the father misses but his daughter on the third day; if he only knows that she is gone by post-wagon, he can mount his horse and seize her again at the third station. Another mischievous circumstance is the, alas! much too good company in the commodious stage-coaches of England, which are always filled full of beautiful and well-dressed ladies, and where--a thing which parliament ought not not to suffer--the passengers so sit, that they must gaze upon one another; whereby is endangered, not only a highly dangerous bewilderment of the eyes, but sometimes a highly shameful, and on both sides a smile-exciting bewilderment of the legs of the opposite traveller; and finally, as frequently as dissolving a bewilderment of souls and thoughts arises, so that many an honourable young man who was proposing to travel from London to Oxford, has instead of that travelled to the devil. Such things, thanks to heaven, are impossible in our post-wagons; since, in the first place, no genteel ladies could possibly seat themselves in such a conveyance if they had not in their youth been after climbing hedges, magpie-nesting, apple-gathering and battering down of walnuts; since the spring over the side-ladder requires a remarkable nimbleness, and no lady can do it without setting the coach-master and the ostler-fellows that are standing round, laughing. In the second place, the passengers so seat themselves, when they at length do seat themselves, that they cannot look each other in the face, and in such a situation, whatever may be said to the contrary, cannot very well begin an intrigue. Conversation loses all its spice, and one can at the most only understand what another says, but not what he desires to say. In short, one has something else to do in a German post wagon than to gossip; one must hold one's-self fast when we come to holes, hold ourselves in readiness for a spring in case of accident; must keep an eye on the boughs, and duck at the proper time, that one's hat or one's head may be left in its place; keep an eye to the windy side, and keep strengthening the clothing on that quarter from which the attack comes; and if it rains, why then one has the property common to other creatures that live neither in the water nor on the water, of being silent when it is wet; and thus the conversation stands at once stock still. If one at length reaches a Wirthshaus (inn,) thus passes the time amongst other things--one dries himself, another shakes himself, one sucks his lozenge, another blows up his cheeks, or enacts whatever other child's megrim he may be in the habit of on such occasions. And hereby comes a circumstance into notice which makes all friendly intercourse in a Wirthshaus impossible; to wit,--that since so many miseries are bound up with post-wagon travelling, so care has been taken that the Wirthshauses shall be made so much worse than is necessary, in order to render a return to the post-wagons the more tolerable. And nobody can imagine to himself what an effect that has too. I have seen people who were pounded and knocked to pieces, and sighed ardently for repose, that when they saw the Wirthshaus in which they were to refresh themselves, with the courage of heroes, have resolved to travel on, which was similar to the fortitude of Regulus, which drove him back to Carthage, although he knew that they would there put him into a sort of German post-wagon, and so let him roll down the hill.
So fall through altogether the stage-coach intrigues with the stage-coaches themselves, those true hot-houses of episodes and declarations. But, it will be said, there is now a stage-coach in Hanover. Good, I know it; and one quite as good as an English one. And must we, therefore, begin all our romances on the way between Haarburg and Minden, which we now leave so swiftly behind us that we have hardly time to see it? All that the travellers do there, is to break out in praise of the king who has ordered this coach, and to sleep; for they are generally so wearied before they get into this coach, that they then fancy they are got home, or that they lie in bed. But those are proper objects truly to fill a romance with! To introduce five sleeping merchants, all snoring; or to fill out a chapter with the praises of the king! The first is by no means a fit subject for any book, and the latter for no romance.
But through this exception, I have wandered from my proper business. Yes, if there were not left yet a monastery or two, to which we can bring a loving couple for refuge, I should not know how to carry on a German romance to the third page; and when, in fact, there shall no longer be a cloister left, there is an end of German romance.
The majority of the company paid their tribute of approbation to this satire. The observations which they made upon it were interrupted in good time by the appearance of a steaming bowl of punch. When the guests had filled their glasses, Hoffmann seized his guitar, and accompanied the voices of the rest, who sung Schiller's famous song.
THE FOUR ELEMENTS.Four Elements all thoroughly blent,Build up the world, our being cement.Press ye the juice of citrons, and pour;Harsh is of life the innermost core.Now let the sugar's tempering juice,Softly the fiery harsh strength reduce;Now let the water bright gushing fall;Peacefully water embraceth all.Let drops of spirit therein be thrown;Life to the life it giveth alone.Quaff it off quickly ere virtue goes,Only revives the well while it glows.
Four Elements all thoroughly blent,Build up the world, our being cement.
Press ye the juice of citrons, and pour;Harsh is of life the innermost core.
Now let the sugar's tempering juice,Softly the fiery harsh strength reduce;
Now let the water bright gushing fall;Peacefully water embraceth all.
Let drops of spirit therein be thrown;Life to the life it giveth alone.
Quaff it off quickly ere virtue goes,Only revives the well while it glows.
Freisleben arose, and said, "Let us drink to the prosperity of our friend. May many happy years find him still young in his spirit, and in the love of his art. May future generations lament that he did not live amongst them. May he be continually surrounded by friends who love him as we do! May he only know sickness that he may learn more vividly to enjoy health. May so much earthly good fall to his lot, that he may live contented. To his prosperity let us give a three times thundering Live-hoch! Vivat!--vivat!--vivat!"
Hoffmann.--To the prosperity of my dear friends! May you--if in the autumn of our lives we should meet again--say to me, "All that we once wished thee on thy birthday, has had its fulfilment in ourselves. But may there never come a winter in your lives!" Let us sing something in company.
THERE TWINKLE THREE STARS.There twinkle three stars, oh! so friendly!I' the darkness of life do they shine,These stars, oh! they sparkle so kindly,We call them love, music, and wine,We call them love, music, and wine.There lives in the sweet voice of singing,A heart sympathizing and true;Song giveth new youth to rejoicing,And barreth the heart to all rue!But wine unto song is united,A joyous and wondrous thing;With glowing rays clothes itself brightly,--To earth a perpetual spring!But glitt'ring and joyfully winking,When brightly the third star doth shine;It sounds in the spirit like singing,It glows in the bosom like wine.Then fill, ye three cordial planets,Our breasts with your glory divine;In life and in death our companions,Be love, and sweet music, and wine!And wine, and sweet love, and singing,They honour the festival night;Then live! who in kissing and loving,In wine and in singing delight!In wine and in singing delight!
There twinkle three stars, oh! so friendly!
I' the darkness of life do they shine,
These stars, oh! they sparkle so kindly,
We call them love, music, and wine,
We call them love, music, and wine.
There lives in the sweet voice of singing,
A heart sympathizing and true;
Song giveth new youth to rejoicing,
And barreth the heart to all rue!
But wine unto song is united,
A joyous and wondrous thing;
With glowing rays clothes itself brightly,--
To earth a perpetual spring!
But glitt'ring and joyfully winking,
When brightly the third star doth shine;
It sounds in the spirit like singing,
It glows in the bosom like wine.
Then fill, ye three cordial planets,
Our breasts with your glory divine;
In life and in death our companions,
Be love, and sweet music, and wine!
And wine, and sweet love, and singing,
They honour the festival night;
Then live! who in kissing and loving,
In wine and in singing delight!
In wine and in singing delight!
Hoffmann.--Gentlemen, don't drink yet. I must yet once more animate you; so then sing:--
Roundelay and barley-wine,Love we them for ever;Grasp them bravely where they shine,--Cup's exhausted never!
Roundelay and barley-wine,
Love we them for ever;
Grasp them bravely where they shine,--
Cup's exhausted never!
(To Mr. Traveller.) Brother, thy beloved is called?--
Mr. Traveller.--Georgina.
All.--Georgina, she shall live-o! shall live-o!Georgina, she shall live-o!All.--Roundelay and true grape wine,Love we them for ever.Grasp them bravely where they shine,--Cup's exhausted never.
All.--Georgina, she shall live-o! shall live-o!
Georgina, she shall live-o!
All.--Roundelay and true grape wine,
Love we them for ever.
Grasp them bravely where they shine,--
Cup's exhausted never.
(To Von Kronen). Brother, thy beloved is called?--
Von Kronen.--Rapunzel.
All.--Rapunzel, she shall live-o! shall live-o! shall live-o!Rapunzel, she shall live-o!
All.--Rapunzel, she shall live-o! shall live-o! shall live-o!
Rapunzel, she shall live-o!
So goes the song in this manner round; and each one names the actual or feigned name of his lady.
Mr. Traveller.--Where, then, have you found the name of Rapunzel, Von Kronen?
Von Kronen.--Look into Grimms' "Kinder und Haus-Märchen;" there you may read the moving history of Rapunzel, which has so seized upon me that I have without further ado made the poor Rapunzel my beloved.
Enderlin.--I hope that thou correspondest with her. How touchingly must the subscription of the letters sound:--"Thy faithful Rapunzel," or "Thy affectionate Rapunzel."
Pittschaft.--But do procure me the favour of thy Rapunzel writing something in my Stammbook.
Von Kronen.--In thy bore of a Stammbook? But O yes! yes! for she is quite at liberty to write in what she will.
Pittschaft.--And what, I wonder, will she write?
Von Kronen.--Instead of an answer, which perhaps after all may not come, I will give thee an anecdote.
Every body knows how great was at one time the rage in the universities to have Stammbücher. Every student kept one; and all the inmates of the house, the numerous members of the landsmannschaft, the whole body of the teachers and other acquaintances who approached him, each and all found their place in it. A student even came once to Dr. Semmler in Halle, with the request that he would have the goodness to write in his Stammbuch. Semmler, who, spite of his well-known and highly praiseworthy economy of time, could not repress his curiosity to turn over the leaves of the Stammbuch, found, to his great amazement, almost on every page such sentences and sayings as were not the most calculated to give him a high idea of the morality of the friends of the gentleman Stammbuch-holder. Finding a clear page, he therefore wrote--Matt. viii. 31. "Lord, suffer me, that I go amongst this herd of swine."
Pittschaft.--If Rapunzel could say such stupid things as thou dost, I should set her down for a very conceited person, and would not trouble her with my Stammbuch, more particularly that she might not get a wicked notion of the morality of my friends, and amongst them of her beloved.
Hoffmann.--Away with all personalities. Let us have a roundelay.
There goes a drinking-law our table all around, around--There goes a drinking-law our table all around:--Three times three are nine-a,Ye know well what I opine-a.There goes a drinking-law our table all around.What a jolly time the damsels have though--They're not compelled to the war to go.[Here he drinks out his glass, as each one does in his turn, after having song.]
There goes a drinking-law our table all around, around--There goes a drinking-law our table all around:--
Three times three are nine-a,Ye know well what I opine-a.
There goes a drinking-law our table all around.
What a jolly time the damsels have though--They're not compelled to the war to go.
[Here he drinks out his glass, as each one does in his turn, after having song.]
THE KRÄHWINKLER LANDSTURM.But march you slow there before, but still march slow there before,Or the Krähwinkler Landsturm can follow no more.What a jolly time the maidens have though,--They're not compelled to the war to go.
But march you slow there before, but still march slow there before,Or the Krähwinkler Landsturm can follow no more.
What a jolly time the maidens have though,--They're not compelled to the war to go.
Hoffmann(forMr. Traveller)--The cavalry stout doth charge amain,And is always in when the dumpling's slain.
Hoffmann.--Still farther goes our Lumpitus yet once more around!
At Hamburgh burst a dreadful bomb,Potz Wetter! how ran we there all and some!And as the foe came galloping fast,We hid in the grass till they were past.The Krähwinkle Landsturm hath courage high,The baggage it always standeth by.Our Captain is a most valiant wight,'Tis only a pity he can not fight.They gave us a banner moreover to show,Which way the wind did chance to blow.Run, run, brave comrades, run left and right--A French sentry-box stands there in sight!
At Hamburgh burst a dreadful bomb,Potz Wetter! how ran we there all and some!
And as the foe came galloping fast,We hid in the grass till they were past.
The Krähwinkle Landsturm hath courage high,The baggage it always standeth by.
Our Captain is a most valiant wight,'Tis only a pity he can not fight.
They gave us a banner moreover to show,Which way the wind did chance to blow.
Run, run, brave comrades, run left and right--A French sentry-box stands there in sight!
This song was written originally in ridicule of the Austrian Landwehr. It has almost endless strophes, of which a few only are here given. It is very frequently used as a Round-song or roundelay, in which each person must sing a fresh verse, and when the known verses are at an end, some one extemporizes, so that every day it becomes richer in strophes. The sixth strophe is then usually sung as the conclusion.
Hoffmann.--I fill the glasses, and then let us sound a still greater Lumpitus.
My brethren, when no more I'm drinking,But faint with gout and palsy lie,Exhausted on the death-bed sinking,Believe it then, my end is nigh. [Repeated as a Chorus.
A lordly life the Pope doth hold,He lives on absolution gold;The best of wines still drinketh he--The Pope, the Pope I fain would be.
Brothers! in this place of festive meeting,God in goodness hath us thus combined;Let us every trouble now defeating,Drink here with the friend of honest mind.There, where nectar glows--Valleralla!Sweetest pleasure blows--Valleralla!E'en as flowers when the spring hath shined.
So crown with leaves the love-o'erbrimming beakers,
And drain them o'er and o'er;And drain them o'er and o'er;
In Europe far and wide, ye pleasure seekers,--
Is such a wine no more!Is such a wine no more!Is such a wine no more!Is such a wine no more!
Ca, ça, carouse it!
Let us not fiery-heads become;--
Who won't here now sit,
Let him stay at home!
Edite bibite, collegialesPost multa secula, pocula nulla!
God greet thee, Brother Straubinger,
I'm glad to meet thee, tho-ough;
Perhaps it is unknown to thee,
That from Heidelberg I go-o.
The master and the misteress,
Of them I cant complai-en;
But with these gents, the studi-ents,
No mortal can conta-ien
Hoffmann, in the mean time, had seated himself at the harpsichord, and drew a quodlibet from the most varied Burschen songs, leaping from one to the other, and interweaving phantasy-pieces between them. The platform in the chamber enabled the company to sing the Bavarian Folks'-song, "The Binschgauer." One chorus placed itself on the platform with the punch-glasses, the other remained by the steaming bowl. Hoffmann accompanied them on the harpsichord.
THE BINSCHGAUER'S PILGRIMAGE.The Binschgauer would a pilgrimage go,Fain would they go singing, but how they did not know,Zschahi! Zschahe! Zschaho! etc. etc.The Binschgauer have got there,Now take heed that ev'ry one his knapsack bear,Zschahi! Zschahe! Zschaho! etc. etc.The Binschgauer far from their homescenes have gone;They saw many cities, and far around were known.Zschahi, Zschahe, Zschaho! etc. etc.The Binschgauer long through joy and sorrow run,Till high the holy pinnacles glanced i' the evening sun.Zschahi, Zschahe, Zschaho! etc. etc.The Binschgauer wended about that dome renowned,The vane-staff was broken, yet still the vane turned round.Zschahi, Zschahe, Zschaho! etc. etc.The Binschgauer entered the holy dome within,The saints were all asleep, and woke not with their din.Zschahi, Zschahe, Zschaho! etc. etc.
The Binschgauer would a pilgrimage go,
Fain would they go singing, but how they did not know,
Zschahi! Zschahe! Zschaho! etc. etc.
The Binschgauer have got there,
Now take heed that ev'ry one his knapsack bear,
Zschahi! Zschahe! Zschaho! etc. etc.
The Binschgauer far from their homescenes have gone;
They saw many cities, and far around were known.
Zschahi, Zschahe, Zschaho! etc. etc.
The Binschgauer long through joy and sorrow run,
Till high the holy pinnacles glanced i' the evening sun.
Zschahi, Zschahe, Zschaho! etc. etc.
The Binschgauer wended about that dome renowned,
The vane-staff was broken, yet still the vane turned round.
Zschahi, Zschahe, Zschaho! etc. etc.
The Binschgauer entered the holy dome within,
The saints were all asleep, and woke not with their din.
Zschahi, Zschahe, Zschaho! etc. etc.
The song was ended. The company became continually more jovial, and began, on the platform, to dance a most singular quadrille, to which their musician played on the harpsichord in the most extraordinary style. Von Kronen, of a tall and strong figure, stood there exactly as if he had been turned in wood, but an electrical stream seemed to run now through this, and now through that limb, and twitched him hither and thither. His motions were those of a puppet which is drawn by strings attached to every member. When the dance was become right wild, then darted he suddenly forwards, so that no one knew whence the movement came, and all squandered in astonishment His partner, the little Enderlin, made a graceful spring, and, as the tall fellow stretched wide his legs, darted boldly between them, and then danced round him with the newest steps. The other dancers had again seized each other's hands, and made such a desperate leap that they sprang almost to the top of the room. The music rushed on more wildly--the dance grew madder and madder, and with more ringing laughter of the spectators, as the pair, suddenly making a high side spring, sent a pane of glass from the window jingling down into the street. Great snow-flakes came whirling into the room through their new-made way. "It struck two!" cried several voices. "It is time to break up!" exclaimed others. All prepared themselves for departure, even the host himself, who would accompany his guests a little way.
The glasses were emptied--"To a speedy and as happy an evening!" and the farewell cigars lit.
The wind without had laid itself, but the snow-flakes chased each other rapidly through the air, and a deep snow covered the silent streets. In a few moments the merry home-goers were clad in a thick covering of snow; and being once thus besnowed, they separated themselves into two parties, and began to bombard each other with snowballs. One party prevailed and put the other into flight. The fleers espied a Bauer's sledge; one jumped in, the other two seized its pole, and thus rushed rapidly along the Hauptstrasse, pursued by the other party with snowballs. When they now reached one of the principal squares, the madcap chase came to an end. The sledge remained standing in the square to the amazement of the Bauer, who the next morning, after much hunting, found it there.
Now sounded a general "good-night," and every one hastened home. Hoffmann reached his chamber, which filled him with that feeling of desolation, so often felt in places which a moment before were all alive with the presence of those we love. But the delightful consciousness of having enjoyed an evening to the uttermost, the still more delightful consciousness of having afforded such an one to his friends, absorbed all other thoughts. He called to mind again the good wishes of his friends, and his last thoughts in the night were, "May God, if he denies me every thing else, never, to my life's end, deprive me of the sense which renders me capable of enjoying worthily such delightful hours."
DRINKING SONG.Ye brothers, when no more I'm drinking,But faint with gout and palsy lie,Exhausted on the sick bed sinking,Believe it then, my end is nigh.And die I this day or to-morrow,My testament's already made;My funeral from your care I'll borrow,But without splendour or parade.And as for coffin, that remanding,A Rhenish cask for it shall pass;Instead of lemon placed each hand in,Give me a brimfull Deckel-glass.Into the cellar then convey me,Where I have drunk whole hogsheads dry;With head unto the tap then lay me,My feet towards the wall may lie.And when you're to the grave me bringing,As follow all then, man by man;For God's sake let no bell be ringing,And clinking glasses be your plan.Upon my gravestone be inscribed,This man was born, grew, drank, and died,--And now he rests where he imbibedIn lifelong joy, the purple tide.
Ye brothers, when no more I'm drinking,
But faint with gout and palsy lie,
Exhausted on the sick bed sinking,
Believe it then, my end is nigh.
And die I this day or to-morrow,
My testament's already made;
My funeral from your care I'll borrow,
But without splendour or parade.
And as for coffin, that remanding,
A Rhenish cask for it shall pass;
Instead of lemon placed each hand in,
Give me a brimfull Deckel-glass.
Into the cellar then convey me,
Where I have drunk whole hogsheads dry;
With head unto the tap then lay me,
My feet towards the wall may lie.
And when you're to the grave me bringing,
As follow all then, man by man;
For God's sake let no bell be ringing,
And clinking glasses be your plan.
Upon my gravestone be inscribed,
This man was born, grew, drank, and died,--
And now he rests where he imbibed
In lifelong joy, the purple tide.
THE POPE.A lordly life the Pope doth hold,He lives on absolution gold;The best of wines still drinketh he;The Pope, the Pope I fain would be.But no! 'tis but a wretched lot,A German maiden loves him not.Alone in his great house lives he--The Pope, the Pope, I would not be.The Sultan lives full blithe and crowse,He liveth in a golden house,With lovely ladies liveth he--The Sultan then I fain would be.But no! he is a wretched man,He liveth by the Alcoran.No drop of wine may drink--not he;The Sultan then I will not be.Their separate fortunes, howe'er fine,I'd wish not, for one moment, mine,But would to this right glad agree,Now Pope, now Sultanus to be.Come, lovely maiden, yield a kiss,For this my reign as Sultan is.And faithful brother send a fee,For now I choose the Pope to be.
A lordly life the Pope doth hold,
He lives on absolution gold;
The best of wines still drinketh he;
The Pope, the Pope I fain would be.
But no! 'tis but a wretched lot,
A German maiden loves him not.
Alone in his great house lives he--
The Pope, the Pope, I would not be.
The Sultan lives full blithe and crowse,
He liveth in a golden house,
With lovely ladies liveth he--
The Sultan then I fain would be.
But no! he is a wretched man,
He liveth by the Alcoran.
No drop of wine may drink--not he;
The Sultan then I will not be.
Their separate fortunes, howe'er fine,
I'd wish not, for one moment, mine,
But would to this right glad agree,
Now Pope, now Sultanus to be.
Come, lovely maiden, yield a kiss,
For this my reign as Sultan is.
And faithful brother send a fee,
For now I choose the Pope to be.
DRINKING SONG.Brothers! in this place of festive meeting,Let us every trouble now defeating,God, in goodness, hath us thus combined;Drink here with the friend of honest mind.There, where nectar flows,Sweetest pleasure blows,E'en as flowers when the spring hath shined.Golden time! oh revel we it through,Hanging on the friend's devoted breast;From the friend a blissful warmth we'll borrow;Of our pleasure cool in wine the zest.In the grapes pure blood,Drink we German mood,Feel we of a higher strength possessed.Sip ye not when Bacchus' fountain floweth,With full beakers to lips faintly bent;He who life by drops yet only knoweth,Knoweth not of life the full intent.Lift it to thy mouth,Drain it in thy drouth,For a God from heaven it hath sentOn the spirit's light accustomed pinion,In the world the youngling plunges bold;Friends to win him, as his best dominion,And whom fast and faster he will hold.So remain mine all,Till the world shall fall;Round their friend truth's arms eternal fold.Let ye not the strength of youth be wasted;In the wine-cap doth the gold-star shine;From sweet lips be honeyed sweetness tasted,For of life is love the heart divine.Is the strength gone forth?Lose the wine its worth?Follow we, old Charon, nor repine.
Brothers! in this place of festive meeting,
Let us every trouble now defeating,
God, in goodness, hath us thus combined;
Drink here with the friend of honest mind.
There, where nectar flows,
Sweetest pleasure blows,
E'en as flowers when the spring hath shined.
Golden time! oh revel we it through,
Hanging on the friend's devoted breast;
From the friend a blissful warmth we'll borrow;
Of our pleasure cool in wine the zest.
In the grapes pure blood,
Drink we German mood,
Feel we of a higher strength possessed.
Sip ye not when Bacchus' fountain floweth,
With full beakers to lips faintly bent;
He who life by drops yet only knoweth,
Knoweth not of life the full intent.
Lift it to thy mouth,
Drain it in thy drouth,
For a God from heaven it hath sent
On the spirit's light accustomed pinion,
In the world the youngling plunges bold;
Friends to win him, as his best dominion,
And whom fast and faster he will hold.
So remain mine all,
Till the world shall fall;
Round their friend truth's arms eternal fold.
Let ye not the strength of youth be wasted;
In the wine-cap doth the gold-star shine;
From sweet lips be honeyed sweetness tasted,
For of life is love the heart divine.
Is the strength gone forth?
Lose the wine its worth?
Follow we, old Charon, nor repine.
RHINE-WINE.So, crown with leaves the love o'er-brimming beakers,And drain them o'er and o'er,In Europe far and wide, ye pleasure-seekers,Is such a wine no more!It comes not out of Hungary nor Poland.Nor where they French do speak.St. Vitus, he may fetch wine from such wo-land,Ours there we do not seek.It is from Fatherland's abundance rendered,How were it else so good!How could in it such noble peace be blended,And yet such bravest mood!Yet it grows not upon all German mountains;For many hills we trace,Like the old Cretans, dull and sluggish fountains,Which are not worth their space.The Ertzgebirge, ye need not explore there,If wine ye would behold;Thüce spring but silver and the cobalt ore there,And mischief-making gold.Thüringia's mountains, for example, bringing,A growth which looks like wine,But it is not; o'er that there is no singing,No glad eyes round it shine.The Blocksberg is the lengthy Sir Philister,As windy and as drear;Dance the cuckoo and his wild sacrister,Upon him here and there.The Rhine! the Rhine! 'tis there our vines are growing!O blessed be the Rhine!The slopes by which that noble stream is flowingThey give this precious wine.So drink! so drink! let us all methods trying,For joyous hours combine.And if we knew where one in wo were lyingWe'd give him of this wine!
So, crown with leaves the love o'er-brimming beakers,
And drain them o'er and o'er,
In Europe far and wide, ye pleasure-seekers,
Is such a wine no more!
It comes not out of Hungary nor Poland.
Nor where they French do speak.
St. Vitus, he may fetch wine from such wo-land,
Ours there we do not seek.
It is from Fatherland's abundance rendered,
How were it else so good!
How could in it such noble peace be blended,
And yet such bravest mood!
Yet it grows not upon all German mountains;
For many hills we trace,
Like the old Cretans, dull and sluggish fountains,
Which are not worth their space.
The Ertzgebirge, ye need not explore there,
If wine ye would behold;
Thüce spring but silver and the cobalt ore there,
And mischief-making gold.
Thüringia's mountains, for example, bringing,
A growth which looks like wine,
But it is not; o'er that there is no singing,
No glad eyes round it shine.
The Blocksberg is the lengthy Sir Philister,
As windy and as drear;
Dance the cuckoo and his wild sacrister,
Upon him here and there.
The Rhine! the Rhine! 'tis there our vines are growing!
O blessed be the Rhine!
The slopes by which that noble stream is flowing
They give this precious wine.
So drink! so drink! let us all methods trying,
For joyous hours combine.
And if we knew where one in wo were lying
We'd give him of this wine!
All our educational institutions form, of many members, an existing ring, which embraces the inhabitants of Germany so thoroughly, that every one of them must, according to his station and capacity, receive the benefit of a humane education. The university beams on this ring like a noble jewel set in gold, and while it closes the ring, as the noblest member of the whole, it touches again on the commencing portion, over which its beneficent splendour shall be diffused. So Mr. Traveller regarded these institutions, and regarded them therefore with approval and admiration. Von Kronen, who had already delivered to him a short history of the universities, promised to give him a brief notice of the general German educational system, which he had prepared, at another opportunity:--and here it is.
A glance into the evolution periods of the continually ascending spiritual and material interests of an age; a glance at the state of improvement even of this time, and our latest posterity, must unite in the judgment,--with truth was the nineteenth century called "the enlightened!" The spirit of man lies no longer in a lethargic sleep; the nations of thetempus noviappear no more the slaves of superstition and of absurdity; manhood feels its worth; discerns its destiny; and strains towards the highest limit,--towards an ennobled humane accomplishment, with all that strength which nature so affluently pours out upon it. Art and science embrace with giant arms the awakened spirit of man; they will be, and they are become, the common property; and every one seeks to make himself a partaker of them, according to the measure of his individual ability. Trade and commerce flourish; the activity of the common man, of the greater part of mankind, has therethrough acquired a nobler direction. Increasing population brings new necessities; and these, again, elicit a zealous wrestling for the means of satisfying them, whereby the spirit of man sees itself compelled continually to a persistence in the most strenuous activity. And does not all this contribute to a perpetually advancing improvement of our human heart and mind most essentially?--Does a thistle here and there thrive amongst the wheat? still the field is well cultivated, and the farmer knows very well how to separate it from the crop.
If we seek now the ground, the cause, of the condition of our time in all its connexions, we find the germ laid in the primordial point of union of every kind of cultivation--in education and instruction. Where and at what time has more been done for the education of the people than now? Where and when have the Folk's-schools, those primary institutions for the accomplishment of manhood, acquired a higher and more beautiful position than at present? This interesting circumstance we shall observe somewhat more closely in these pages.
Perhaps nowhere can a close inquiry into the innermost essence of a thing be more entwined with the historical developement of the same, than exactly here, when treating of schools, and their peculiar conduct and condition; and although it is by no means our intention to give here a regular history of such developement, yet we cannot avoid casting a hasty retrospective glance on the schools of a former age, since we shall thereby, on the one hand, most securely arrive at the position whence we can, as already observed, best learn to judge properly and perfectly of the nature of Folk's-schools; and, on the other hand, learn best to know the real rank of the schools of our times, and to prize their advantages. "The world's history is the world's judgment," said Schiller, and certainly he therein pronounced an important truth, of which truth where do we find a more evident testimony than here, where the most momentous portion of the intellectual cultivation of the human race is concerned? But to come to the matter.
In far antiquity education was the business of domestic life; and how imperfect it was, under such circumstances, we may easily conceive. The parents, uninformed themselves, could impart to their children but very scanty information; the whole of life was rather a vegetation, a physical rather than an inward and intellectual existence. It was then first, as population increased and state compacts were organized, that a kind of schools arose, because men then learned to see that it was only by intellectual ascendency that it was possible to work upon the rude mass. The teachers of such schools were the priests; but the scholars were such alone as, according to their custom, were destined to some high office. We thus see that real Folk's schools were not then in existence; there was, in fact, no conception of them; and what more was necessary to say on the subject of the schools of former ages, we have already given under the head, Universities. Those institutions were calculated rather for the higher range of education, and are to be regarded as the forerunners of our universities, on which account we may here pass them over.
It is only with the time of Charlemagne that we can begin to talk of Folk's-education and Folk's-schools. Besides the Scola Palatii, founded by him, and which was placed under the management of his friend Alcuin, he also originated and promoted in the convents the idea of a female education. He and Alfred of England are the true founders of village and country schools. National education owes to them an improvement the most excellent and rich with blessings; alas! that the age was not ripe enough to give a ready hand of co-operation to these noble reformers. Before this time, ay, from the very promulgation of the Christian religion, the priests had striven incessantly to monopolise the instruction of the people, and to throw it entirely into the hands of their order; a fact most prominently testified by the catechetical schools of the second and third centuries, the later episcopal and cathedral schools, and, after the sixth century, those most influential cloister schools. And as it had thus been their constant policy to secure the absolute possession and direction of popular instruction, this became the case again, after the death of these noble monarchs, when every thing had fallen once more into the old track, and these very institutions, which they had planned and founded, became still more effectual tools in their hands. What might and would result from such a predominating hierarchical tendency, experience has taught us. The selfish interests of a form of religion, degraded to the most crafty state-policy, were made the motives for keeping mankind in darkness. The understanding was oppressed by the diffusion of superstition; and under the hypocritical cloak of sanctity, beneath which the most unhallowed fanaticism concealed itself, the priesthood compelled humanity to wander on in blindness and error. The reforms of Charlemagne were as good as forgotten, and the proper Folk's-schools were swallowed up in the darkness of the Middle Ages. What was done in course of time through the exertions of such men as the Emperor Frederick I. took the direction of the high educational institutions, and wholly concerned the universities, which had for a long period been striving to make themselves independent, and, in fact, were so. In the fourteenth century a ruddy streak of dawn showed itself, which though but faintly pervading the darkness, yet at a later period harbingered the sun. Gerhardus Magnus first spoke out the idea of a free education with perspicuity. In 1379 he founded an educational institution at Deventer, in this spirit, and thereby led to the creation of similar institutions in the Netherlands, on the Rhine, and in North Germany. Montaigne, Bacon, and Lord Verulam, were powerful advocates of this idea, which, being only more and more stimulated by the reaction-system of the hierarchy, lead to the epoch of the fifteenth century.
The well-to-do Bürger-class began to erect city-corporation, or writing-schools, as they were called, and found themselves obliged to appoint masters to them at their own cost, as the clergy more and more neglected their office of teaching. The clergy, however, exerted all their power against these schools, on grounds which touched them nearly, for they feared a diminution of their income and their power through a greater enlightenment of the people. Under these circumstances the Folk's-schools could not prosper; they either fell speedily, or totally degenerated. The city-schools which were founded in the sixteenth century, and called Latin-schools, were scantily enough endowed, and the proper Folk's-schools were in a still more miserable condition most of those in the villages falling to decay, and those which did still exist scarcely being worthy of the name.
But the dawn of a new era soon broke, and the arduous and holy warfare of the Reformation threw light into the darkness of the human mind. Men were now seen to contend for knowledge, and strove to rend asunder the dishonourable bonds which, in a more animal condition, had been riveted upon them. Luther arose, and with him a new order of things in the conduct of schools was called forth. Many worthy schoolmasters, who had already gone forth from the pedagogic brotherhood of Gerhardus Magnus at Deventer, and from the Rhenish Society of Learned Men, founded by Conrad Celtes for the restoration of classical antiquity, had prepared the way for the great Reformers. How illustriously shine out in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the names of Desiderius Erasmus, Johann Reuchlin, Johann Dalberg, Rudolph Agricola, Wilibald Pirkheimer. They are like sacred signs of an approaching better time for the school affairs of the civilized world; and they all strengthened powerfully the hands of Luther, Melancthon, Zuinglius, since they treated schools, and the whole business of education, in a magnanimous spirit. To point out the active services of these men would lead us too far; it must suffice simply to remark that continually more, and fresh, and faithful teachers came forth, amongst whom, Johann Sturm, Valentin Friedland, also called Trotzendorf, Michael Neander, Johann Casselius, and Christian Hellwich, were especially distinguished. If a great want was still here and there visible, yet the path being once broken open, a retreat was by no means to be thought of, and the discovery of Guttenberg contributed not a little to make this impossible. The labours of Wolfgang Ratich and Johann Amors Comenius are of peculiar importance, whose works are known, and in which they treat of the natural and complete developement of all the powers of the human mind, especially of the understanding and the imagination. Pestalozzi's ideas here lie in embryo before us.
Soon after the appearance of these men, and the springing up of schools framed according to their views, the Jesuits made every exertion to draw the management of education to themselves; and they succeeded to a certain extent, since with their usual political acumen, they easily saw that it was necessary for them entirely to imitate the form and matter of the evangelical schools. But the stratagem of these satellites of the hierarchy was soon seen through, and the best consequences were to be hoped, had not the storms of the Thirty Years' War crushed so many promising germs and scattered so much beautiful fruit. School economy, during such an epoch, could only wearily maintain itself; the miserable management of ignorant teachers, the simple consequence of that fanatical rage, made the prosperity of schools a thing beyond hope. Yet this reaction actually hastened the entrance of a better spirit, which soon found its warmest advocates in Fenelon, Ph. T. Spener, but especially in A. H. Franke.
The activity of the last worthy man had an eminently auspicious influence; and other zealous characters soon enrolled themselves in the list of the friends of knowledge; as Godfried Zeidler, who simplified the mode of spelling; Valentin Hein, and Sulzer, who, 1700-1799, introduced an improved mode of teaching arithmetic. But, unfortunately, there soon grew in the Folk's-schools a deadly poison of all good--Mysticism, which was carried by the teachers to a most mischievous length. Equally blighting lay the pharisaical constraint of evangelical orthodoxy on the school system, not less influentially than that of the Romish hierarchy. It was not till philanthropy raised its head in the middle of the eighteenth century, through the influence of Locke, Rousseau, and Bassedow, that the school system appeared earnestly to seek to improve itself. Locke was the first to treat with a philosophical spirit educational tuition, as a connected whole. T. P. Crousatz followed in the same path. In Germany, the fiery Bassedow, in 1768, took up the Rousseau enthusiasm, and sought to plant the ideas of this philosopher in his native soil.
We imagine that we have so far conducted the reader that he can easily follow the description of the institutions for popular education of our time. We have arrived at the position we recently alluded to, and have with it reached also, that exact point of union whence all that succeeds diverges. Although it yet remains to be shown how the various kinds of schools have gradually developed themselves, we believe we may pass over this part of the subject, as on the one hand all that is necessary may be inferred from what has just been said, and on the other, they are too much a part of the present not to be well known to all. Let us therefore proceed to an illustration of the system of our Folk's-schools, which divide themselves into higher and lower; and in the first place notice the lower, as