INDEX

[1]. See M. M., “Vedic Hymns,” S.B.E., vol. xxxii., p. 96.

[2]. Autobiographie, p. 224.

[3]. “Neugriechische Volkslieder,” gesammelt von C. Fauriel, übersetzt von Wilhelm Müller, Leipzig, 1825.

[4]. See J. Kerner, “Die Seherin von Prevorst,” 1829.

[5]. The metre used in his volume of “Tragödien nebst einem lyrischen Intermezzo,” Berlin, 1823. I possess a copy of it with Heine’s dedication: “Als ein Zeichen seiner Achtung und mit dem besonderen Wunsche, dass der Waldhornist das lyrische Intermezzo seiner Aufmerksamkeit würdige, überreicht dieses Buch der Verfasser.”

[6]. As many of my unknown friends have come to my assistance and sent me Herwegh’s poem I feel bound to give it here in its entirety:—

STROPHEN AUS DER FREMDE.

Ich möchte hingeh’n wie das Abendroth,

Und wie der Tag mit seinen letzten Gluthen—

O! leichter, sanfter ungefühlter Tod!—

Mich in den Schoosz des Ewigen verbluten.

Ich möchte hingeh’n wie der heitre Stern,

In vollstem Glanz in ungeschwächtem Blinken;

So stille und so schmerzlos möchte gern

Ich in des Himmels blaue Tiefen sinken.

Ich möchte hingeh’n wie der Blume Duft,

Der freudig sich dem schönen Kelch entringet

Und auf dem Fittig blüthenschwangrer Luft

Als Weihrauch auf des Herrn Altar sich schwinget.

Ich möchte hingeh’n wie der Thau im Thal,

Wenn durstig ihm des Morgens Feuer winken;

O wollte Gott, wie ihn der Sonnenstrahl,

Auch meine lebensmüde Seele trinken!

Ich möchte hingeh’n wie der bange Ton,

Der aus den Saiten einer Harfe dringet;

Und, kaum dem irdischen Metall entfloh’n,

Ein Wohllaut, in des Schöpfers Brust verklinget.

Du wirst nicht hingeh’n wie das Abendroth,

Du wirst nicht stille, wie der Stern, versinken,

Du stirbst nicht einer Blume leichten Tod,

Kein Morgenstrahl wird deine Seele trinken.

Wohl wirst du hingeh’n, hingeh’n ohne Spur,

Doch wird das Elend deine Kraft erst schwächen

Sanft stirbt es einzig sich in der Natur,

Das arme Menschenherz muss stückweis brechen.

[7]. See Brugsch, “Mein Leben,” p. 104.

[8]. “Literature and Dogma,” 1873, pp. 305, seq.

[9]. “Literature and Dogma,” p. 143.

[10]. Schiller’s “Wallenstein,” Prolog, vv. 48, 49.

[11]. This was written in 1851, and here in 1897 that Welcome has never ceased to be a blessing to me.

[12]. I had written some articles in The Times to show that when we meet with jade tools in countries far removed from the few mines in which jade is found, we must admit that they were carried along as precious heirlooms by the earliest emigrants from Asia to Europe, by the same people who carried the tools of their mind, that is the words of their language, from their original homes to the shores of the Mediterranean, to Iceland, to Ireland, and in the end to America.

[13].

(“Professor” I would fain have said,

But the pinched line would not admit it,

And where the nail submits its head,

There must the hasty hammer hit it!)

[14]. “Lectures on the Science of Language,” vol. ii., p. 343.

[15]. Ascania seems to have been the Latin rendering of Asgaria, which appears on the map as Ascharien, and is now called Aschersleben. It must have been very tempting for a mediæval Latin scholar to see in Asgaria or Ascharia a trace of Ascanius, the son of Aeneas. Old local names, however, are difficult to explain, particularly if they occur on German soil that was formerly occupied by Slavonic tribes, because the Germans often mispronounced and then misinterpreted Slavonic names. It is easy to guess, but often difficult to prove their original form and meaning. If, as seems but fair, we admit a German origin for Asgaria or Ascharien, it is most natural to see in it a modification of the well-known word As-gard, i.e., the home of the gods. Âs (or ass), plus-aesir, was a name of the gods in Old Norse; in Gothic it would have been, as Grimm has shown (“Deutsche Mythol.,” p. 22), Anses, and this is found in several proper names such as Ansgâr, AS. Oscar, god-spear. The Swedish åska, lightning, thunder, if it stands for ás-ekja, meant originally the driving of the god, i.e., of Thor, thunder being supposed to be due to the rattle of his chariot. Proper names such as Ásbjörn, Ásmodr display the same element. Asgard is the abode of the gods, by the side of Mitgart, the abode of men, or the earth, and would have supplied a very natural name either for a sanctuary or for any place sacred to the gods. But though our way seems easy from Asgard to Asgaria, Ascania, Ascharien and even Aschersleben, and though in Esics also, the name of a Prince of Asgaria, we may recognise a derivation of Âs, meaning divine or beloved by the gods, Gottlieb, there is another word that may put in a claim on Askanius if that was not a more learned corruption of Asgaria. For Askr in German mythology (Grimm, l.c., p. 327) is the first man, and means ashtree, and from him the Iscaevones, mentioned by Tacitus, derived their name (Grimm, l.c., p. 324). According to tradition the first King of the Saxons also was called Aschanes, and he is said to have sprung from a rock in the midst of a wood (Grimm, l.c., p. 537). We must admit therefore the possibility that our Ascanius was a German word Aschanes, and in that case had nothing to do with Âs, aesir, the ancient gods of the Scandinavians. Having met with these various traces of the gods as the names of men and places in Anhalt, one feels tempted to see in the An of Anhalt too a remnant of the same name. Anhalt is explained as the place ane holt, without wood, but as it seems to have stood in the very midst of a wood, or an der halde, near the precipice, this derivation is not very likely. Others take it in the modern sense of Anhalt, a firm hold or safe refuge. All this is possible, but it is likewise possible to take An for Ans, so that Anhalt might have been the wood or grove of the gods. We must not lay too much stress on the loss of the s, particularly if by a popular etymology Anhalt had been made to convey the meaning of support or stronghold. All these are and can only be guesses, and certainty could only be gained, if at all, from old historical documents giving the original forms of all these names and trustworthy indications as to how they arose. The whole question is one for the historian rather than for the philologist, and I gladly leave it to them to solve the riddle if they can.

[16]. Dr. Meyer was a most interesting character. He had been for years in Bunsen’s house, formerly private secretary to Schelling, the philosopher. He was a poet and a scholar, very strong in Welsh, having spent many years travelling about in Wales. He certainly was not cut out for life at court. After leaving England he spent the last years of his life as reader to the old Emperor of Germany; a most faithful soul, and full of varied information. Some of his occasional poems were beautiful, his “Bellone Orientalis” a masterwork; but they are all forgotten now. Dr. Meyer was devoted to the Prince, and much that the world does not know of him, and never will know, I learnt at the time from Dr. Meyer.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

  1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling.
  2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.