PERIOD FIRST
FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE REFORMATION (360-1517).
1. EARLY LITERATURE.—Previous to the introduction of Christianity the Germans had nothing worthy of the name of literature. The first monument that has come down to us is the translation of the Bible into Moeso- Gothic, by Ulphilas, bishop of the Goths (360-388), who thus anticipated the work of Luther by a thousand years.
As the art of writing was unknown to the Goths, Ulphilas formed an alphabet by combining Runic, Greek, and Roman, letters, and down to the ninth century this version was held in high esteem and seems to have been in general use. For nearly four hundred years after Ulphilas, no trace of literature is discovered among the Teutonic tribes. They, however, had their war-songs, and minstrel skill seems to have been highly prized by them. These lays were collected by Charlemagne, and are described by Eginhardt as "ancient barbarous poems, celebrating the deeds and wars of the men of old;" but they have nearly all disappeared, owing, probably, to the refusal of the monks, then the only scribes, to transmit to paper aught which tended to recall the rites and myths of Paganism. Only two relics of this age, in their primitive form, remain; they are rhymeless, but alliterated,—a kind of versification common to the German, Anglo- Saxon, and Scandinavian poetry, and which, early in the ninth century, gave place to rhyme. Of these two poems, the Hildebrand Lied Is probably a fragment of the traditions which had circulated orally for centuries, and which, with many modifications, were transcribed by the Scandinavians in their sagas, and by Charlemagne in his collection. None of the other poems which have come down to us from this period bear an earlier date than the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, when they were remodeled and appeared in the form of the Heldenbuch and Nibelungen Lied. The Hildebrand Lied belongs to the cycle of Theodoric the Great, or Dietrich of Bern or Verona, as he is called in poetry, from that town being the seat of his government after he had subdued the Empire of the West. This poem, though rude and wild, is not without grandeur and dramatic effect.
2. CHARLEMAGNE AND HIS SUCCESSORS.—The era of Charlemagne, in all respects so memorable, could not be without influence on the literature of Germany, then in a condition of almost primitive rudeness. The German, language was taught by his command in the schools and academies which he established in all parts of the empire; he caused the monks to preach in the vernacular tongue, and he himself composed the elements of a grammar for the use of his subjects. He recompensed with imperial munificence the learned men who resorted to his court; Alcuin, Theodophilus, Paul Winifred, and Eginhardt were honored with his peculiar confidence. Under his influence the monasteries became literary as well as ecclesiastical seminaries, which produced such men as Otfried (fl. 840), the author of the rhymed Gospel-book, and Notker Teutonicus, the translator of the Psalms.
After the death of Charlemagne the intellectual prospects of Germany darkened. The empire was threatened by the Normans from the west, and the Hungarians from the east, and there were few places where the peaceful pursuits of the monasteries and schools could be carried on without interruption.
The most important relic of the last part of the ninth century is the "Ludwig's Lied," a hymn celebrating the victory of Louis over the Normans, composed by a monk with whom that monarch was on terms of great intimacy. The style is coarse and energetic, and blends the triumphant emotions of the warrior with the pious devotion of the recluse. Towards the close of the tenth century, Roswitha, a nun, composed several dramas in Latin, characterized by true Christian feeling and feminine tenderness.
The eleventh century presents almost an entire blank in the history of German literature. The country was invaded by the Hungarian and Slavonic armies from abroad, or was the scene of contest between the emperors and their vassals at home, and in the struggle between Henry IV. and Pope Gregory VII., the clergy, who had hitherto been the chief supporters of their literature, became estranged from the German people.
A series of lays or poems, however, known as the Lombard Cycle, belongs to this age, among which are "Duke Ernest," "Count Rudolph," and others, which combine the wild legends of Paganism with the more courtly style of the next period.
3. THE SUABIAN AGE.—A splendid epoch of belles-lettres dates from the year 1138, when Conrad III., of the Hohenstauffen dynasty, ascended the throne of the German Empire. The Crusades, which followed, filled Germany with religious and martial excitement, and chivalry was soon in the height of its splendor. The grand specimens of Gothic architecture produced during this period, the cathedrals of Ulm, Strasbourg, and Cologne, in which ponderous piles of matter were reduced to forms of beauty, speak of the great ideas and the great powers called into exercise to fulfill them. The commercial wealth of Germany was rapidly developed; thousands of serfs became freemen; large cities arose, mines were discovered, and a taste for luxury began to prevail.
In 1149, when the emperor undertook a crusade in concert with Louis VII. of France, the nobility of Germany were brought into habitual acquaintance with the nobility of France, who at that time cultivated Provençal poetry, and the result was quickly apparent in German literature. The poets began to take their inspiration from real life, and though far from being imitators, they borrowed their models from the romantic cycles of Brittany and Provence.
The emperors of the Suabian or Hohenstauffen dynasty formed a new rallying-point for the national sympathies, and their courts and the castles of their vassals proved a more genial home for the Muses than the monasteries of Fulda and St. Gall. In the Crusades, the various divisions of the German race, separated after their inroad into the seats of Roman civilization, again met; no longer with the impetuosity of Franks and Goths, but with the polished reserve of a Godfrey of Bouillon and the chivalrous bearing of a Frederic Barbarossa. The German emperors and nobles opened their courts and received their guests with brilliant hospitality; the splendor of their tournaments and festivals attracted crowds from great distances, and foremost among them poets and singers; thus French and German poetry were brought face to face. While the Hohenstauffen dynasty remained on the imperial throne (1138-1272) the Suabian dialect prevailed, the literature of chivalry was patronized at the court, and the Suabian minstrels were everywhere heard. These poets, who sang their love-songs, or minne songs (so called from an old German word signifying love), have received the name of Minnesingers. During a century and a half, from 1150 to 1300, emperors, princes, barons, priests, and minstrels vied with each other in translating and producing lays of love, satiric fables, sacred legends, fabliaux, and metrical romances. Some of the bards were poor, and recited their songs from court to court; but many of them sang merely for pleasure when their swords were unemployed. This poetry was essentially chivalric; ideal love for a chosen lady, the laments of disappointed affection, or the charms of spring, formed the constant subjects of their verse. They generally sang their own compositions, and accompanied themselves on the harp; yet some even among the titled minstrels could neither read nor write, and it is related of of one that he was forced to keep a letter from his lady-love in his bosom for ten days until he could find some one to decipher it.
Among the names of nearly two hundred Minnesingers that have come down to us, the most celebrated are Wolfram of Eschenbach (fl. 1210), Henry of Ofterdingen (fl. 1250), and Walter of the Vogel Weide (1170-1227).
The numerous romances of chivalry which were translated into German rhyme during the Suabian period have been divided into classes, or cycles. The first and earliest cycle relates to Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table; the are of Anglo-Norman origin, and were probably derived from Welsh chronicles extant in Britain and Brittany before the poets on either side of the Channel began to rhyme in the Langue d'oui. Of all the Round Table traditions, none became so popular in Germany as that of the "San Graal," or "Sang Réal" (the real blood). By this was understood a cup or charger, supposed to have served the Last Supper, and to have been employed in receiving the precious blood of Christ from the side-wound given on the cross. This relic is stated to have been brought by Joseph of Arimathea into northern Europe, and to have been intrusted by him to the custody of Sir Parsifal. Wolfram of Eschenbach, in his "Parsifal," relates the adventures of the hero who passed may years of pilgrimage in search of the sanctuary of the Graal. The second cycle of romance, respecting Charlemagne and his twelve peers, was mostly translated from the literature of France. The third cycle relates to the heroes of classical antiquity, and exhibits them in the costume of chivalry. Among them are the stories of Alexander the Great, and "Aeneid," and the "Trojan War."
But the age of German chivalry and chivalric poetry soon passed away. Toward the end of the thirteenth century the Crusades languished, and the contest between the imperial and papal powers raged fiercely; with the death of Frederic I. the star of the Suabian dynasty set, and the sweet sounds of the Suabian lyre died away with the last breath of Conradin on the scaffold at Naples, in 1268.
During this period there was a wide difference between the minstrelsy patronized by the nobility and the old ballads preserved by the popular memory. These, however, were seized upon by certain poets of the time, probably Henry of Ofterdingen, Wolfram of Eschenbach, and others, and reduced to the epic form, in which they have come down to us under the titles of the Heldenbuch and the Nibelungen Lied. They contain many singular traits of a warlike age, and we have proof of their great antiquity in the morals and manners which they describe.
The Heldenbuch, or Book of Heroes, which, in its present form, belongs to the close of the twelfth century, is a collection of poems, containing traditions of events which happened in the time of Attila, and the irruptions of the German nations into the Roman Empire. The principal personages who figure in these tales of love and war are Etzel or Attila, Dietrich or Theodoric the Great, Siegfried, the Achilles of the North, Gudrune, Hagan, and others, who reappear in the Nibelungen Lied, and who have been already alluded to in the heroic legends of the Scandinavian Edda. The Nibelungen Lied (from Nibelungen, the name of an ancient powerful Burgundian race, and Lied, a lay or song) occupies an important place in German literature, and in grandeur of design and beauty of execution it far surpasses any other poetical production of this period. The "Horny Siegfried," one of the poems of the Heldenbuch, serves as a sort of prelude to the Nibelungen. In that, Siegfried appears as the personification of manly beauty, virtue, and prowess; invulnerable, from having bathed in the blood of some dragons which he had slain, save in one spot between his shoulders, upon which a leaf happened to fall. Having rescued the beautiful Chriemhild from, the power of a giant or dragon, and possessed himself of the treasures of the dwarfs, he restores her to her father, the King of the ancient city of Worms, where he is received with regal honors, and his marriage with Chriemhild celebrated with unparalleled splendor.
In the Nibelungen, Chriemhild is represented as the sister of Günther the King of Burgundy; the gallant Siegfried having heard of her surpassing beauty, resolves to woo her for his bride, but all his splendid achievements fail to secure her favors. In the mean time tidings reach the court of the fame of the beautiful Brunhild, queen of Isenland, of her matchless courage and strength; every suitor for her hand being forced to abide three combats with her, and if vanquished to suffer a cruel death. Günther resolves to try his fortune, and to win her or perish, and Siegfried accompanies him on condition that the hand of Chriemhild shall be his reward if they succeed.
At the court of Brunhild, Siegfried presents himself as the vassal of Günther, to increase her sense of his friend's power, and this falsehood is one cause of the subsequent calamities. In the combats, Siegfried, becoming invisible by means of a magic cap he had obtained from the dwarfs, seizes the arm of Günther and enables him to overcome the martial maid in every feat of arms: and the vanquished Brunhild bids her vassals do homage to him as their lord. A double union is now celebrated with the utmost pomp and rejoicing. The proud Brunhild, however, is indignant at her sister-in-law wedding a vassal. In vain Günther assures her that Siegfried is a mighty prince in his own country; the offended queen determines to punish his deception, and ties him hand and foot with her magic girdle, and hangs him upon a nail; Siegfried pitying the condition of the king, promises his aid in depriving the haughty queen of the girdle, the source of all her magic strength. He successfully accomplishes the feat, and in a luckless hour presents the trophy to Chriemhild, and confides the tale to her ear. A dispute having afterwards arisen between the two queens, Chriemhild, carried away by pride and passion, produces the fatal girdle, a token which, if found in the possession of any save the husband, was regarded as an almost irrefutable proof of guilt among the nations of the North. At this Brunhild vows revenge, and is aided by the fierce Hagan, Günther's most devoted follower, who, having induced Chriemhild to confide to him the secret of the spot where Siegfried is mortal, seizes the first occasion to plunge a lance between his shoulders, and afterwards bears the body to the chamber door of Chriemhild, who is overwhelmed with grief and burning with resentment. To secure her revenge she at length marries Etzel, or Attila, king of the Huns, who invites the Burgundians to his court, and at a grand festival Chriemhild involves them in a bloody battle, in which thousands are slain on both sides. Günther and Hagan are taken prisoners by Dietrich of Berne, and put to death by Chriemhild, who in turn suffers death at the hands of one of the followers of Dietrich.
Such is an imperfect outline of this ancient poem, which, despite all its horrors and improbabilities, has many passages of touching beauty, and wonderful power. Siegfried, the hero, is one of the most charming characters of romance or poetry. Chriemhild, at first all that the poet could fancy of loveliness, becomes at last an avenging fury. Brunhild is proud, haughty, stern, and vindictive, though not incapable of softer emotions.
In the Scandinavian legend we find the same personages in grander outlines and more gigantic proportions. The mythological portion of the story occupies the most prominent place, and Brunhild is there represented as a Valkyriur.
The time in which the scene of this historical tragedy is laid is about 430 A.D. From the thirteenth to the sixteenth century it was widely read, and highly appreciated. But in the succeeding age it was almost entirely forgotten. It was brought again to light in the beginning of the present century, and since that time, it has been the subject of many learned commentaries and researches.
4. THE FOURTEENTH AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES.—The period from the accession of the House of Hapsburg to the beginning of the Reformation was crowded with events of great social importance, but its literature was remarkably poor. The palmy days of the minstrels and romancists had passed away. Rudolph was an economical prince, who mended his own doublet to spare money, and as he had no taste for minstrelsy, the composers of songs who went to his court found no rewards there. The rank and influence of the metropolis were transferred from Frankfort to Vienna, and the communication with the southern and southwestern parts of Europe was greatly impeded. The Germans were occupied in crusades against the Huns; the court language was changed from west Gothic to an east Gothic dialect, which was less national, and much of the southern culture and the European sympathies which had characterized the reign of the Suabian emperors disappeared.
Some inferior princes, however, encouraged versification, but the prizes were so reduced in value that the knights and noblemen left the field in favor of inferior competitors. A versifying mania now began to pervade all classes of society; chaplains, doctors, schoolmasters, weavers, blacksmiths, shoemakers—all endeavored to mend their fortunes by rhyming. Poetry sank rapidly into dullness and mediocrity, while the so-called poets rose in conceit and arrogance. The spirit of the age soon embodied these votaries of the muse in corporations, and the Emperor Charles IV. (1346-1378) gave them a charter. They generally called twelve poets among the minnesingers their masters, and hence their name Mastersingers. They met on certain days and criticised each other's productions. Correctness was their chief object, and they seemed to have little idea of the difference between poetical and prosaic expressions. Every fault was marked, and he who had fewest received the prize, and was allowed to take apprentices in the art. At the expiration of his poetical apprenticeship the young poet was admitted to the corporation and declared a master.
Though the institution of the Mastersingers was established at the close of the thirteenth century, it was not until the fifteenth and sixteenth that it really flourished, particularly through the genius of Hans Sachs. The institution, survived, however, though languishing, through the seventeenth century, and the calamities of the Thirty Years' War. At Ulm it outlasted even the changes which the French Revolution effected in Europe, and as late as 1830 twelve old Mastersingers yet remained, who, after being driven from one asylum to another, sang their ancient melodies from memory in the little hostelry where the workmen used to meet in the evening to drink together. In 1839 four only were living, and in that year these veterans assembled with great solemnity, and declaring the society of Mastersingers forever closed, presented their songs, hymns, books, and pictures to a modern musical institution at Ulm.
While the early Mastersingers were pouring forth their strains with undiminished confidence in their own powers, a new species of poetic literature was growing up beside them in the form of simple and humorous fables, or daring satires, often directed against the clergy and nobility, which were among the most popular productions of the Middle Ages. Such were "Friar Amis" and the "Ship of Fools." Indeed, from the year 1300 to the era of the Reformation, we may clearly trace the progress of a school of lay doctrine which was opposed to a great part of the teaching of the church, and which was yet allowed to prevail among the people.
Among the fables, "Reynard the Fox" had a very early origin, and has remained a favorite of the German people for several centuries. After many transformations it reappeared as a popular work at the era of the Reformation, and it was at last immortalized by the version of Goethe.
5. THE DRAMA.—We find the first symptoms of a German drama as early as the thirteenth century, in rude attempts to perform religious pieces like the old Mysteries once so popular throughout Europe. At first these dramatic readings were conducted in the churches and by the priests, but when the people introduced burlesque digressions, they were banished to the open fields, where they assumed still greater license. Students in the universities delighted to take part in them, and these exhibitions were continued after the Reformation. There is no reason to suppose that the early Christians objected to these sacred dramas or mysteries when they were compatible with their religion. They were imported into Europe from Constantinople, by crusaders and pilgrims, and became favorite shows to an illiterate populace. Indeed, Christianity was first taught throughout the north of Europe by means of these Mysteries and miracle plays, and the first missionaries had familiarized their rude audiences with the prominent incidents of Biblical history, long before the art of reading could have been called in to communicate the chronicles themselves.
The most important writings of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries are the works of the monks of the mystic school, which form the connecting link between the great era of the Crusades and the greater era of the Reformation. They kindled and kept alive a new religious fervor among the inferior clergy and the middle and lower classes, and without the labors of these reformers of the faith, the reformers of the church would never have found a whole nation waiting to receive them, and ready to support them. While the scholastic divines who wrote in Latin introduced abstruse metaphysics into their theology, the mystics represented religion as abiding in the sentiments of the heart, rather than in doctrines. Their main principle was that piety depended not on ecclesiastical forms and ceremonies, but that it consisted in the abandonment of all selfish passions. The sentiments of the mystic writers were collected and arranged by Tauler (1361), in a well-known work, entitled "German Theology." Luther, in a preface to this book, expresses his admiration of its contents, and asserts that he had found in it the doctrines of the Reformation.
Another celebrated work of this school is "The Imitation of Christ," written in Latin, and generally attributed to Thomas à Kempis, a monk who died 1471. It has passed through numberless editions, and still maintains its place among the standard devotional works of Germany and other countries.
Two other events prepared the way for the German reformers of the sixteenth century—the foundation of the universities, (1350), and the invention of printing. The universities were national institutions, open alike to rich and poor, to the knight, the clerk, and the citizen. The nation itself called these schools into life, and in them the great men who inaugurated the next period of literature were fostered and formed.
The invention of printing (1438) admitted the middle classes, who had been debarred from the use of books, to the privileges hitherto enjoyed almost exclusively by the clergy and the nobility, and placed in their hands weapons more powerful than the swords of the knights, or the thunderbolts of the clergy. The years from 1450 to 1500 form a period of preparation for the great struggle that was to signalize the coming age.