The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Vol. VII. by Various
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Various >> The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Vol. VII.
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QUEEN.
Never!
KING.
You defy me? You set yourself in opposition to the King?
QUEEN.
Yes. I feel within me the power to do it. Ladies, hear now why I invited
you to these rooms tonight--why I asked you to appear before your queen.
Yes, Sire, the purpose of this hour was that the threads of your
political scheming might be torn apart by two hands destined to be
united for life.
WILHELMINE.
_Two_ hands!
QUEEN.
Wilhelmine, I freed you from a captivity unworthy the daughter of a
King. Open that door, Sire; you will find there my nephew, my future
son-in-law, the Prince of Wales.
ALL.
The Prince of Wales!
KING (_when he has gained control of himself_).
Madame, you have achieved your purpose. You have torn asunder the ties
that bound me to my family, that bound me to life. You know that my
honor, that my good name, are more to me than all political
calculations. You know that this scene here at night, this secret
understanding with one who in my eyes is merely an adventurous stranger,
has ruined Wilhelmine's reputation forever. You may enjoy your triumph
at your future widow's-seat, Oranienbaum, to which place I now banish
you, according to our House's laws, for the few remaining years of my
life.
WILHELMINE (_hurrying to the_ KING's _side_).
No--no, not that.
KING.
Madame, admit the Prince of Wales.
SCENE V
_The_ QUEEN, _breathing heavily, staggers to the door. After a moment's
upward glance she opens it. The_ PRINCE OF BAIREUTH _comes in, wrapped
in a white cloak_. HOTHAM _follows, carrying a pointed metal helmet,
such as belonged to the Prussian uniform of that day. The helmet must
not be seen at first_.
WILHELMINE.
What? Whom do I see?
ALL.
The Prince of Baireuth?
QUEEN.
Baronet, what does this mean? Where is the Prince of Wales?
HOTHAM.
Your Majesty, I am all astonishment. I have but just learned that the
prince is now on a journey to Scotland.
ALL.
What's that?
QUEEN.
The Prince is not in Berlin?
HOTHAM.
While some trustworthy witnesses insist that the Prince was actually
here, others again assert that he returned to England the very moment in
which he realized that his patriotic interests--the interests of the
cotton industry--could not be reconciled with the inclinations of his
heart.
KING.
And what is the Prince of Baireuth doing here?
HOTHAM.
He seeks, as we do, the Prince of Wales, with whom he desires a duel to
the death.
[_All exclaim_.]
KING.
A duel? And why?
HOTHAM.
Because this poor Prince of a tiny country does not begrudge the heir to
a World-Power his fleet, his army, nor his treasures; but he refuses to
yield _one_ treasure to him except at the price of his heart's
blood--and that treasure is the hand of Princess Wilhelmine, whom
he loves. [_General emotion_.]
KING.
Whom he loves? My daughter's hand? But does the Prince of Baireuth
understand sword-craft?
[HOTHAM _takes off the_ PRINCE'S _cloak and places the helmet on his
head. The_ PRINCE _stands there in the uniform of a grenadier of the
period. His hair is braided into a long pigtail. He stands motionless in
a military attitude_.]
KING.
What's this I see? The Prince of Baireuth a grenadier?
With--_pigtail--and--sword_--?
HOTHAM.
The equipment of the young recruit of the Glasenapp Regiment. I have the
honor to present him to Your Majesty before his departure for Pasewalk.
KING.
A German Prince, who deems it an honor to serve up from the ranks in my
army? [_Commands_.] Battalion--left wheel! Battalion--forward march!
[PRINCE _executes manoeuvers and marches to_ WILHELMINE.]
KING.
Halt! [_To_ WILHELMINE] Is the enemy yonder disposed to accept the
capitulation on this side?
WILHELMINE.
Until death!
KING.
Entire regiment--right wheel! Forward march--right, left, twenty-one,
twenty-two--
[_All three march over to the_ QUEEN _who stands to the left of the
room_.]
KING.
Halt!
WILHELMINE AND THE PRINCE (_kneeling at the_ QUEEN'S _feet_).
Mother!
KING.
There was no such order given.
PRINCE.
But it was the hearts' impulse.
HOTHAM (_good-naturedly, whispering to the_ QUEEN).
Your Majesty, won't you correct the mistakes of these two young
recruits?
QUEEN.
Out of my sight, you traitor to your Royal House! Arise, Wilhelmine.
[_To the_ KING, _hesitating_.] But we still have Austria....
KING.
But Austria hasn't us. The minions--eh, prince! Tomorrow there'll be
dismissals--dismissals and pensionings! Well, mother, shall we take him
for a son-in-law?
QUEEN.
On the condition that I--that I fix the amount of the dowry.
KING.
And also that you [_embracing the_ QUEEN] remain close to my heart. Now
only Friedrich is lacking. And all this is the result of your--your
cotton industries! Baronet Hotham? Thanks for this splendid recruit.
[_In_ HOTHAM'S _ear, audibly_] How did he sober up so soon?
PRINCE.
I crave your forgiveness Your Majesty--I am still drunk with joy.
KING.
Forgiveness? For your speech, my son? If that which you have said shall
one day be written into the book of history, then my old heart is quite
content, and has but the wish that they might add: "With his Sword he
would be King, but with his Pigtail--merely the first citizen of his
State."
* * * * *
GERMAN LYRIC POETRY FROM 1830 to 1848
BY JOHN S. NOLLEN, PH.D.
President of Lake Forest College
The years from 1830 to 1848 were distinctively revolutionary years in
Germany, which until then had remained strongly conservative. The spirit
of political and social reformation, which had caused the great upheaval
of the French Revolution late in the eighteenth century, had made itself
felt much more slowly across the Rhine. Even the generous enthusiasm
that animated the German people in the War of Liberation against
Napoleon in 1813 had ebbed away into disappointment and lethargy when
the German princes forgot their pledges of internal reform. The policy
of the German and Austrian rulers was dominated by the reactionary
Austrian Prime Minister, Prince Metternich, a consistent champion of
aristocratic ideas and of the "divine right of Kings." The "Revolution
of July," 1830, however, which overthrew the Bourbon dynasty in France,
had its counterpart in popular movements that forced the granting of
constitutions or other liberal concessions in several German states;
and, though the policy of Metternich still remained dominant, the
liberal sentiment grew in power until the February revolution of 1848 in
Paris inspired similar upheavals in all Germany. Metternich himself was
now compelled to retire, Frederick William IV. of Prussia granted his
people a constitution, and the other German states seethed with revolt;
but the great liberal plan to unify Germany under the leadership of
Prussia was nullified by Frederick William's refusal to accept the
imperial crown from a democratic assembly.
The lyric poetry of Germany in these years inevitably reflected the
liberal sentiment of the time; it is always the radical emotion of any
revolutionary period that finds the most effective lyric expression, the
conservative state of mind being more characteristically prosaic. For
the group of ardent spirits who made themselves the heralds of the new
day, one of their number, the novelist and dramatist Karl Gutzkow, found
the name "Young Germany." Just as the "Storm and Stress" of 1770 to
1780, and the Romantic movement of the opening nineteenth century,
represented a spirit of sharp revolt against the then dominant
pseudo-classicism and rationalism, so "Young Germany" reacted
passionately against the moonlight sentimentality of the popular
romantic poets, as well as against the stupid political conservatism of
the time. The aim of the Young Germans was to bring literature down from
the clouds into vital contact with the immediate problems of the day.
Thus there was developed a body of literature strongly polemic in
purpose, quite hostile to the ideals of detachment and disinterested
worship of beauty that Goethe and Schiller in their classical period had
preached and practised. This literature took the form of fiction, drama,
and journalism, as well as of poetry. Indeed, the only important lyric
poet of the Young German group was HEINRICH HEINE (1797-1856), who had
begun his career with the most intimate poetry of personal confession,
in which the simplicity of the folk-song and the nature-feeling of the
romanticist are strongly tinged with wit and cynicism. Heine's
impatience with German conditions led him to expatriate himself, and
from his retreat in Paris to aim venomous shafts of satire at his native
land, with its "three dozen masters" and its philistine conservative
nightcaps and dumplings. This brilliant poet, with his marvelous mastery
of German lyric tones, expressed a wide range of poetic inspiration; but
he loved particularly to conceive of himself as an apostle of liberty,
an outpost of the revolutionary army, and none so well as he could tip
the barb with biting sarcasm and satire. Heine's personality was full
of seemingly inconsistent traits. He was both fanciful and rational,
serious and flippant, tender and cynical, reverent and impious; and he
could be at once a patriot and an alien. He was, to use his own phrase,
an "unfrocked romanticist"--at once a brilliant representative of the
poetry of self-expression and personal caprice, and an exemplar and
prophet of a new ideal, the "holy alliance of poetry with the cause of
the nations."
The different attitudes of thoughtful men toward the influences of the
time were variously reflected in the work of three leading poets, all
older than Heine, who contributed largely to the lyric output of the
period. ADELBERT VON CHAMISSO (1781-1835), of aristocratic French
descent, and using all the familiar romantic forms and motives, was yet
thoroughly democratic and prophetically modern in his unalloyed sympathy
with the impoverished victims of the social order. It was something new
for German poetry to find inspiration in the wrath of a beggar who
cannot pay his dog-tax, the sardonic piety of an old widow reduced to
penury by the exactions of the "gracious prince," or the laborious
resignation of an aged washerwoman.--The Silesian nobleman JOSEPH VON
EICHENDORFF (1788-1857), Prussian officer and civil official, was a
consistent conservative in his political attitude, a pious Catholic, and
a romanticist in every fibre of his poetic soul. His lyrics are the
purest echoes of folk-song and folk-lore, and the simplicity and
genuineness of his art give an undying charm to his songs of idyllic
meadows and woodlands, post-chaises, carefree wanderers, and lovely
maidens in picturesque settings; all suffused with gentle yearning and
melting into soft melody. Eichendorff's patriotism was of the
traditional type, echoing faintly the battle-hymns of the War of
Liberation. For the great liberal movement of the thirties and forties
he had neither sympathy nor comprehension.--FRIEDRICH RUeCKERT
(1788-1866), endowed with a fatal facility of lyric expression, a
virtuoso for whom no _tour-de-force_ was too difficult, lived most of
his life aloof from the political and social movements of his time. In
his youth his _Sonnets in Armor_ had done sturdy service in the national
awakening against Napoleon, but his maturer years were devoted to
domestic and academic interests. Every impression of his life, whether
deep or fleeting, was material for a poem or a cycle. He handled with
consummate skill the odd or complicated metres of eastern and southern
lyric forms, and he was most versatile as a translator of foreign
poetry, ancient and modern, occidental and oriental. His unusual formal
talent and mastery of language were a constant temptation to rapid and
superficial versifying; but there are in the vast mass of his production
many genuine poems of great beauty.
Two other poets of quite distinctive quality stood aloof from the
political interests of the time. The talented Westphalian Catholic
poetess ANNETTE VON DROSTE-HUeLSHOFF (1797-1848) has a place apart in her
generation, not only for the fine religious poems of her _Christian
Year_ (similar in plan to Keble's cycle), but also for her nature-lyrics
and songs of common life, which are marked by minute realistic detail
and refreshing originality of observation and sentiment. This pious
gentlewoman, usually so maidenly in her reserve, nevertheless expressed
something of the spirit of emancipation in her quiet protest against the
narrow conventional limits of the feminine life. But she would have
recoiled with horror from the reckless propaganda for sex-freedom that
was a part of the Young German campaign, as she also repudiated the
violence of the revolutionists of 1848.--If there is something masculine
in Fraeulein von Droste's firm and plastic touch, there is something
almost feminine in the finely-chiseled lyrics of the Protestant pastor
EDUARD MOeRIKE (1804-1875), whose _Poems_ appeared in the same year
(1838), and blended the folk-song simplicity and melody of an
Eichendorff with the classical form-sense of a Keats. This Suabian
country vicar, the youngest member of the group about Uhland, lived in
the utmost serenity amid the troubles of revolutionary agitation,
devoted to his art, turning the common experiences of every day into
forms of beauty, or reviving with charming naivete the romantic figures
of medieval poetry.
We emerge completely from the quietude and piety of these individualists
when we come to a group of men who were distinctively political poets.
Here we find the direct lyric expression of the revolutionary movement.
The first in the field was ANASTASIUS GRUeN (the pen-name of Count Anton
von Auersperg, 1806-1876). This Austrian nobleman boldly attacked the
reactionary policy of Metternich in his _Saunterings of a Viennese Poet_
(1831); with biting irony he pictures the fate of the Greek patriot
Hypsilantes, broken in health by the "hospitality" of Austrian
prison-fortresses, or describes the all-powerful minister-of-state
enjoying his social triumphs in the palace ball-room, while Austria
stands outside the gate vainly pleading for liberty. In another
collection entitled _Debris_ (1836) there are whole-hearted protests
against the political martyrdom of the best patriots, and the oppressive
despotism under which Italy groaned, with which Gruen contrasts the
blessings of liberty in America.
Anastasius Gruen was the forerunner. The period of the real dominance of
political poetry began with 1840, when a petty official in a Rhenish
village, Nikolaus Becker, electrified Germany with a martial poem, _The
German Rhine_, inspired by French threats of war with Prussia and of the
conquest of the Rhine territory. The same events inspired Max
Schneckenburger's _Wacht am Rhein_, which at the time could not compete
in popularity with Becker's poem, but in later years has quite
supplanted it as a permanent national song. German officialdom, which
had looked askance at all political poetry, easily saw the value to the
national defense of such patriotic strains, and now encouraged these
national singers with gifts and honors. But political poetry could not
be kept within officially recognized bounds. Inevitably it became
partisan and revolutionary in character. HEINRICH HOFFMANN (who styled
himself VON FALLERS-LEBEN after his birthplace; 1798-1874), one of the
most prolific lyric poets of Germany, had the knack of expressing the
common feeling in poems that became genuine national songs; the most
famous of these, _Deutschland, Deutschland ueber alles_ (1841), is still
sung wherever those who love Germany congregate. But from this
expression of the common German tradition Hoffmann went on to espouse
the liberal cause, and he had his taste of martyrdom when he lost his
professorship at Breslau because of his ironical _Unpolitical Songs_
(1840-42). Hoffmann was essentially an improviser, and sang only too
copiously in all the tones and fashions of German verse.
FERDINAND FREILIGRATH (1810-1876) gained immediate fame with the
brilliant color and tropical exuberance of his early oriental lyrics, of
which the much-declaimed _Lion's Ride_ is an excellent example. But
Freiligrath's strongest work was in the field of political poetry. He,
too, made sacrifices for the faith that was in him; he gave up a royal
pension and twice went into voluntary exile in order to be free to
express his liberal sentiments. He began, indeed, with the denial of any
partisan bias; but when the Revolution of 1848 broke, no other poet
found more daring and eloquent words for the spirit of revolt and of
democratic enthusiasm than Freiligrath. And when the war of 1870 again
brought new hope of German unity, Freiligrath sang in stirring measures
this national awakening.
GEORG HERWEGH (1817-1875), also driven into exile by his opposition to
the government, created a sensation with his _Poems of the Living_
(1841), which in ringing refrains incited to revolutionary action. But
when the deed followed the word, and Herwegh led an invading column of
laborers into Baden in 1848, he lacked the courage of the martyr and
fled from the peril of death. _GOTTFRIED KINKEL_ (1815-1882) also took
part in the insurrection in Baden, was captured, and condemned to life
imprisonment, but escaped with the aid of Carl Schurz in 1850. FRANZ
DINGELSTEDT (1814-1881), on the other hand, found his sarcastic _Songs
of a Political Night-Watchman_ (1842) no bar to appointment as director
of the theatres of Munich, Weimar and Vienna.
While the poets of the revolution were busily at work, the conservatives
were not altogether voiceless; nor were the notes of the romantic lyric
silenced. Indeed, men like Hoffmann, Herwegh, and Kinkel could not deny
the strong influence of the romantic motives and tones upon much of
their best poetry. One lyrist greater than any of them was dominated by
the romantic tradition--an Austrian nobleman of mingled German, Slavonic
and Hungarian blood, NIKOLAUS LENAU (the pen-name of Nikolaus Franz
Niembsch Edler von Strehlenau, 1802-1850). A gifted musician, Lenau was
also a master of the melody of words, and his nature-feeling was
unusually deep and true. Abnormally proud, self-centred and sensitive as
he was, Lenau was born to unhappiness and disillusionment; his journey
to America, begun with the most generous anticipations, ended in
homesickness and bitter disappointment. Before he had reached middle
life, his genius went out in the darkness of insanity. The picturesque
and the tragic fascinated Lenau; he could sing with genuine sympathy the
fate of dismembered Poland, or the lawless freedom of Hungarian rebels
and gipsies; but for the great political movements of the day he had
little regard. In the melodious interpretation of nature in sad and
quiet moods he had no rival.
Very different was the wholesome and chivalrous nature of the young
Moravian Count MORITZ VON STRACHWITZ (1822-1847), whose ballads are
unmatched in German literature for spirit and fire. Strachwitz despised
the democratic agitation of the revolutionists, and sang with fine
enthusiasm the coming of the strong man, who, after all the intrigues of
the demagogues, like another Alexander should cut the Gordian knot with
the sword.
With EMANUEL GEIBEL (1815-1884) we come to the voice of fair compromise
between the extremes. Geibel was a conservative liberal, honestly
patriotic without partisanship. Thus his _Twelve Sonnets for
Schleswig-Holstein_ (1846) were broadly German in inspiration, and his
love of liberty was matched by his aristocratic hatred of the mob.
Geibel succeeded in once more gaining the widest popularity, in days
filled with partisan clamor, for the pure lyric of romantic inspiration.
He was in a true sense the poet-laureate of his generation. Lacking in
real originality, he was yet sincere in the expression of his emotion,
and his faultless form clothed the utterance of a soul of rare purity
and nobility.
As in the days after the War of Liberation, so in the years following
the revolutionary movements of 1848, the generous hopes of the people
seemed doomed to perish in weariness and disappointment, and the voice
of democratic poetry was silenced. In the reaction that followed the
intoxication of liberal enthusiasm, with the failure of the attempt to
unify Germany under Prussian leadership, the German lands relapsed into
dull acquiescence in the old regime. But the seed of the new day had
been sown, and the harvest came in due time. Strachwitz's intuition was
justified; the strong man did appear, in the person of Bismarck, and the
"Gordian knot" was cut with the sword of the war of 1870. But the
liberal dream of 1848 was realized, also, in the creation of a unified
and powerful German Empire on a constitutional basis.
* * * * *
[Illustration: ANASTASIUS GRUeN]
ANASTASIUS GRUeN
A SALON SCENE[14] (1831)
Evening: In the festive halls the light of many candles gleams,
Shedding from the mirrors' crystal thousand-fold reflected beams.
In the sea of light are gliding, with a stately, solemn air,
Honored, venerable matrons, ladies young and very fair.
And among them wander slowly, clad in festive garments grand,
Here the valiant sons of battle, there the rulers of the land.
But on one that I see moving every eye is fixed with fear--
Few indeed among the chosen have the courage to draw near.
He it is by whose firm guidance Austrians' fortunes rise or sink,
He who in the Princes' Congress for them all must act and think.
But behold him now! How gracious, courteous, gentle he's to all,
And how modest, unassuming, and how kind to great and small!
In the light his orders sparkle with a faint and careless grace,
But a friendly, gentle smile is always playing on his face
When he plucks the ruddy rose leaves that some rounded bosom wears,
Or when, like to withered blossoms, kingdoms he asunder tears.
Equally enchanting is it, when he praises golden curls,
Or when, from anointed heads, the royal crowns away he hurls.
Yes, methinks 'tis heavenly rapture, which delights the happy man
Whom his words to Elba's fastness or to Munkacs' prison ban.
Could all Europe now but see him, so engaging, so gallant,
How the ladies, young and old, his winning smiles delight, enchant;
How the church's pious clergy, and the doughty men of war,
And the state's distinguished servants by his grace enraptured are.
Man of state and man of counsel, since you're in a mood so kind,
Since you're showing to all present such a gracious frame of mind,
See, without, a needy client standing waiting at your door
Whom the slightest sign of favor will make happy evermore.
And you do not need to fear him; he's intelligent and fair;
Hidden 'neath his homely garments, knife nor dagger does he wear.
'Tis the Austrian people, open, honest, courteous as can be.
See, they're pleading: "May we ask you for the freedom to be free?"
* * * * *
[Illustration: NICOLAUS LENAU]
NIKOLAUS LENAU
PRAYER[15] (1832)
Eye of darkness, dim dominioned,
Stay, enchant me with thy might,
Earnest, gentle, dreamy-pinioned,
Sweet, unfathomable night.
With magician's mantle cover
All this day-world from my sight,
That for aye thy form may hover
O'er my being, lovely night.
* * * * *
SEDGE SONGS[16] (1832)
I
In the west the sun departing
Leaves the weary day asleep,
And the willows trail their streamers
In these waters still and deep.
Flow, my bitter tears, flow ever;
All I love I leave behind;
Sadly whisper here the willows,
And the reed shakes in the wind.
Into my deep lonely sufferings
Tenderly you shine afar,
As athwart these reeds and rushes
Trembles soft yon evening star.
II
Oft at eve I love to saunter
Where the sedge sighs drearily,
By entangled hidden footpaths,
Love! and then I think of thee.
When the woods gloom dark and darker,
Sedges in the night-wind moan,
Then a faint mysterious wailing
Bids me weep, still weep alone.
And methinks I hear it wafted,
Thy sweet voice, remote yet clear,
Till thy song, descending slowly,
Sinks into the silent mere.
III
Angry sunset sky,
Thunder-clouds o'erhead,
Every breeze doth fly,
Sultry air and dead.
From the lurid storm
Pallid lightnings break,
Their swift transient form
Flashes through the lake.
And I seem to see
Thyself, wondrous nigh--
Streaming wild and free
Thy long tresses fly.
* * * * *
[Illustration: EVENING ON THE SHORE HANS AM ENDE]
SONGS BY THE LAKE[17] (1832)
I
In the sky the sun is failing,
And the weary day would sleep,
Here the willow fronds are trailing
In the water still and deep.
From my darling I must sever:
Stream, oh tears, stream forth amain!
In the breeze the rushes quiver
And the willow sighs in pain.
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