lark, in the lowest furrow; nay, to mount | here wandering in deep thickets, or even therefrom singing, and soar above all mere sinking in moist bogs, there panting over earthly heights. How many potentates, and mountain-tops by narrow sheep tracks; but principalities, and proud belligerents have for most part jigging lightly on sunny greens, evaporated into utter oblivion, while the poor accomplishes his wonderful journey. Thürstadt Schoolmaster still holds together! This Renner, which seems to be his final work, probably comprises the essence of all those lost Volumes: and indeed a synopsis of Hugo's whole Philosophy of Life, such as his two hundred books and long decades of quiet observation and reflection had taught him. Why it has been named the Renner, whether by Hugo himself, or by some witty editor and Transcriber, there are two guesses forthcoming, and no certain reason. One guess is that this Book was to run after the lost Tomes, and make good to mankind the deficiency occasioned by want of them; which happy thought, hidebound though it be, might have seemed sprightly enough to Hugo and that age. The second guess is that our author, in the same style of easy wit, meant to say this book must hasten and run out into the world, and do him a good turn quickly, while it was yet time, he being so very old. But leaving this, we may remark, with certainty enough, that what we have left of Hugo was first printed under this title of Renner, at Frankfort on the Mayn, in 1549; and quite incorrectly, being modernized to all lengths, and often without understanding of the sense; the Edition moreover is now rare, and Lessing's project of a new one did not take effect; so that, except in Manuscripts, of which there are many, and in printed Extracts, which also are numerous, the Renner is to most readers a sealed book. In regard to its literary merit opinions seem to be nearly unanimous. The highest merit, that of poetical unity, or even the lower merit of logical unity, is not ascribed to it by the warmest panegyrist. Apparently this work had been a kind of store-chest, wherein the good Hugo had, from time to time, deposited the fruits of his meditation as they chanced to ripen for him; here a little, and there a little, in all varieties of kind; till the chest being filled, or the fruits nearly exhausted, it was sent forth and published to the world, by the easy process of turning up the bottom. "No theme," says Bouterwek, "leads with certainty to the other; satirical descriptions, proverbs, fables, jests, and other narratives all huddled together at random, to teach us in a poetical way a series of moral lessons. A strained and frosty Allegory opens the work: then follows the chapter of Meyden, (Maids ;) of Wicked Masters; of Pages; of Priests, Monks, and Friars, with great minuteness: then of a young Minx with an Old Man; then of Bad Landlords, and of Robbers. Next come divers Virtues and Vices, all painted out, and judged of. Towards the end, there follows a sort of Moral Natural History; Considerations on the dispositions of various Animals; a little Botany and Physiology; then again all manner of didactic Narratives; and finally a Meditation on the Last Day." Nevertheless, as we ourselves can testify, there is a certain charm in the worthy man; his work, such as it is, seems to flow direct from the heart, in natural, spontaneous abundance; is at once cheerful and earnest; his own simple, honest, mildly-decided character is everywhere visible. Besides, Hugo, as we said, is a person of understanding; has looked over many provinces of Life, not without insight; in his quiet, sly way, can speak forth a shrewd word on occasion. There is a genuine though slender vein of Humour in him; nor in his satire does he ever lose temper, but rebukes sportfully; not indeed laughing aloud, scarcely even sardonically smiling, yet with a certain subdued roguery, and patriarchal knowingness. His fancy too, if not brilliant, is copious almost beyond measure; no end to his crotchets, suppositions, minute specifications. Withal he is original; his maxims, even when professedly borrowed, have passed through the test of his own experience; all carries in it some stamp of his personality. Thus the Renner, though in its whole extent perhaps too boundless and planless for ordinary nerves, makes, in the fragmentary state, no unpleasant reading: that old doggerel is not without significance; often in its straggling, broken, entangled strokes some vivid antique picture is strangely brought out for us. As a specimen of Hugo's general manner, we select a small portion of his Chapter on The Maidens; that passage where he treats of the highest enterprise a maiden can engage in, the choosing of a husband. It will be seen at once that Hugo is no Minnesinger, glozing his fair audience with madrigals and hypocritical gallantry; but a quiet Natural Historian, reporting such facts as he finds, in perfect good nature, it is true, yet not without an under-current of satirical humour. His quaint style of thought, his garrulous minuteness of detail, are partly apparent here. The first few lines we may give in the original also; not as they stand in the Frankfort edition, but as professing to derive themselves from a genuine ancient source: Whereby it would appear clearly, as hinted, that Hugo's Runner pursues no straight course; and only through the most labyrinthic mazes, s. 44. Kortzyn mut und lange haar *Horn, Geschichte, und Kritik der deutschen Poest, "Wo's me," continues Hugo, "how often this same is repeated; till they grow all confused how to choose, from so many, whom they have brought in without number. First they bethink them so: This one is short, that one is long; he is courtly and old, the other young and ill-favoured: this is lean, that is bald, here is one fat, there one thin; this is noble, that is weak; he never yet broke a spear: one is white, another black; that other is named Master Hack, (hartz ;) this is pale, that again is red; he seldom eateth cheerful bread;" and so on, through endless other varieties, in new streams of soft-murmuring doggerel, whereon, as on the Path it would represent, do travel thoughts a throng, whomso these fair irresolutes will have or not. Thus, for Hugo, the age of Minstrelsy is How Master Dietrich fought with Ecken, This last is one of Hugo's darker strokes; for commonly, though moral perfection is ever the one thing needful with him, he preaches in a quite cheerful tone; nay, ever and anon, enlivens us with some timely joke. Considerable part, and apparently much the best part, of his work is occupied with satirical Fables, and Schwänke (jests, comic tales;) of which latter classes we have seen some possessing true humour, and the simplicity which is their next merit. These, however, we must wholly omit; and indeed, without farther parleying, here part company with Hugo. We leave him, not without esteem, and a touch of affection due to one so true-hearted, and, under that old humble guise, so gifted with intellectual talent. Safely enough may be conceded him the dignity of chief moral Poet of his time; nay, perhaps, for his solid character, and modest manly ways, a much higher dignity. Though his Book can no longer be considered, what the Frankfort Editor describes it in his interminable title-page, as a universal vade mecum for mankind, it is still so adorned with many fine sayings, and in itself of so curious' a texture, that it seems well worth preserving A proper Edition of the Renner will one day doubtless make its appearance among the Germans. Hugo is further remarkable as the precursor and prototype of Sebastian Brandt, whose Narrenschiff (Ship of Fools) has, with perhaps less merit, had infinitely better fortune than the Renner. Some half century later in date, and no less didactic in character than Hugo's Renner, another work, still rising visible above the level of those times, demands some notice This is the Edelstein (Gem) of Bonefrom us. rius, or Boner, which at one time, to judge by the number of Manuscripts, whereof fourteen are still in existence, must have enjoyed great popularity; and indeed, after long years of oblivion, it has, by recent critics and redactors, been again brought into some circulation. Boner's Gem is a collection of a Hundred Fables done into German rhyme; and derives its proud designation not more perhaps from the supposed excellence of the work, than from a witty allusion to the title of Fable First, which, in the chief Manuscript, chances to be that well-known one of the Cock scraping for Barleycorns, and finding instead there a precious stone (Edelstein) or Gem: Von einem Hanen und dem Edelen steine, whereupon the author, or some kind friend, remarks in a sort of Prologue: Dies Büchlein mag der Edelstein Wol heiszen wand es in treit (in sich trägt) "This Bookling may well be called the Gem, sith it includes examples of many a prudence:"-which name, accordingly, as we see, it bears even to this day. Boner and his Fables have given rise to much discussion among the Germans: scattered at short distances throughout the last hundred years, there is a series of Selections, Editions, Translations, Critical Disquisitions, some of them in the shape of Academic Program; among the labourers in which enterprise we find such men as Gellert and Lessing. A Boneri Gemma, or Latin version of the work, was published by Oberlin, in 1782; Eschenburg sent forth an Edition in modern German, in 1810; Benecke a reprint of the So that now a antique original, in 1816. faithful duty has been done to Boner; and what with Bibliographical Inquiries, what with vocabularies and learned collations of Texts, he that runs may read whatever stands written in the Gem. Of these diligent lucubrations, with which we strangers are only in a remote degree concerned, it will be sufficient here to report in few words the main results,-not indeed very difficult to report. First then, with regard to Boner himself, we have to say that nothing whatever has been discovered: who, when, or what that worthy moralist was, remains, and may always remain, entirely uncertain. It is z 2 merely conjectured, from the dialect, and other more minute indications, that his place of abode was the north-west quarter of Switzerland; with still higher probability that he lived about the middle of the fourteenth century; from his learning and devout pacific temper, some have inferred that he was a monk or priest; however in one Manuscript of his Gem, he is designated, apparently by some ignorant Transcriber, a knight, ein Ritter gotz alsus: from all which, as above said, our only conclusion is, that nothing can be concluded. it is cleaned and laid out before us, that though but a small seed-pearl, it has a genuine value. To us Boner is interesting by his antiquity, as the speaking witness of many long-past things; to his contemporaries again he must have been still more interesting as the reporter of so many new things. These Fables of his, then for the first time rendered out of inaccessible Latin* into German metre, contain no little edifying matter, had we not known it before: our old friends, the For with the musical Raven; the Man and Boy taking their Ass to market, and so inadequate to please the public in their method of trans porting him: the Bishop that gave his Ne phew a Cure of Souls, but durst not trust hin with a Basket of Pears; all these and many more figure here. But apart from the mate rial of his Fables, Boner's style and manne has an abiding merit. He is not so much a Translato" as a free Imitator: he tells the story in his own way; appends his own moral and except that in the latter department he is apt to be a little prolix, acquits himself to high satisfaction. His narrative, in those old limp ing rhymes, is cunningly enough brought out artless, lively, graphic, with a spicing of inno cent humour, a certain childlike archness, which is the chief merit of a Fable. Such is the German Esop; a character whom, in the North-west district of Switzerland, at that time of day, we should hardly have looked for. Johann Scherz, about the year 1710, in what he called Philosophia moralis Germanorum medii avi Specimen, sent forth "ertain of these Fables, with expositions, but apparently without naming the Author; to which Specimen Gellert in his Dissertatio de poesi apolo gorum had again, some forty years afterwards, invited attention. Nevertheless, so total was the obscurity which Boner had fallen into, that Bodmer, already known as the resuscitator of the Nibelungen Lied, in printing the Edelstein from an old Manuscript, in 1752, mistook its probable date by about a century, and gave his work the title of Fables from the Minnesinger Period, without naming the Fabulist, or guessing whether there were one or many. In this condition stood the matter, when several years afterwards, Lessing, pursuing another inquiry, came across the track of this Boner; was allured into it; proceeded to clear it; and moving briskly forward with a sure Could we hope that to many of our read'rs eye, and sharp critical axe, hewed away innu- the old rough dialect of Boner would be intel merable entanglements; and so opened out aligible, it were easy to vindicate these praises. free avenue and vista, where strangely, in remote depth of antiquarian woods, the whole ancien Fable-manufactory, with Boner and many others working in it, becomes visible, in all the light which probably will ever be admitted to it. He who has perplexed himself with Romulus and Rimicius, and Nevelet's Anonymus, and Avianus, and still more, with the false guidance of their many commentators, will find help and deliverance in this Of him that striveth after more honour than he light, thorough-going Inquiry of Lessing's.t Now, therefore, it became apparent: first, that those supposed Fables from the Minnesinger Period, of Bodmer, were in truth written by one Boner, in quite another Period; secondly, nat Boner was not properly the author of them, but the borrower and free versifier from certain Latin originals; farther, that the real title was Edelstein and strangest of all. that the work had been printed three centuries before Bodmer's time, namely, at Bamberg, in 1461; of which Edition, indeed, a tattered copy, typographically curious, lay, and probably lies, in the Wolfenbüttel Library, where Lessing then waited and wrote. The other discoveries, touching Boner's personality, and locality, are but conjectures, due also to Lessing, and have been stated already. As to the Gem itself, about which there has veen such scrambling, we may say, now when Koch also, with a strange deviation from his usual accuracy, dates Boner, in one place, 1220; and in another, "towards the latter half of the fourteenth century. Ser his Compendium, p. 28, and p. 200, vol. i. + Sammtliche Schriften, B. 8. As matters stand, we can only venture on one translated specimen, which in this shape claims much allowance; the Fable, also, is nowise the best, or perhaps the worst, but simply one of the shortest. For the rest, we have rendered the old doggerel into new, with all possible fidelity: THE FROG AND THE STEER. should. A Frog with Frogling by his side The two originals to whom Lessing has traced all his Fables are Avianus and Neveler's Anonymus; conJörden (Lericon, i. 161) may be inserted here: "Flacerning which personages the following brief notice by vins Avianus (who must not be confounded with another Latin Poet, Avienus) lived as is believed, under forty-two Fables in eleriac measure, the best Editions of which are that by Kanneriesser, (Amsterdam, 1731,) that by," &c., &c. With respect to the AnonTMmus the two Antonines in the second century: he has left us again: "under this designation is understood the halfbarbarous Latin Poet, whose sixty Fables in elegiac measure, stand in the collection, whi b Nevelet, under 1610, and which directly follow those of Avianus in that the title Mrthologia sopica, published at Frankfort in work They are nothing else than versified translations of the Fables written in prose by Romulus, a noted Fabu'ist, whose era cannot be fixed, nor even his name made out to complete satisfaction.”—The reader who wants deeper insight into these matters may consult Lessing, as cited above. To other creatures far and near, Come follow me and leave this strife; And let thy boastful blowing be.' Frog said: "Thou need'st not beck and nod, The like hath oft been seen of such Readers to whom such stinted twanging of the true Poetic Lyre, such cheerful fingering, though only of one and its lowest string, has any melody, may find enough of it in Benecke's Boner, a reproduction, as above stated, of the original Edelstein; which Edition we are authorized to recommend as furnished with all helps for such a study: less adventurous readers may still, from Eschenburg's halfmodernized Edition, derive some contentment and insight. Hugo von Trimberg and Boner, who stand out here as our chief Literary representatives of the Fourteenth Century, could play no such part in their own day, when the great men, who shone in the world's eye, were Theologians and Jurists, Politicians at the Imperial Diet; at best, Professors in the new Universities; of whom all memory has long since perished. So different is universal from temporary importance, and worth belonging to our manhood from that merely of our station or calling. Nevertheless, as every writer, of any true gifts, is “citizen both of his time and of his country," and the more completely the greater his gifts; so in the works of these two secluded in dividuals, the characteristic tendencies and spirit of their age may best be discerned. Accordingly, in studying their commentators, one fact, that cannot but strike us, is the great prevalence and currency which this species of Literature, cultivated by them, had obtained in that era. Of Fable Literature, especially, this was the summer tide and highest efflorescence. The Latin originals which Boner partly drew from, descending, with manifold transformations and additions, out of classical times, were in the hands of the learned; in the living memories of the people, were numerous fragments of primeval Oriental Fable, derived perhaps through Palestine; from which two sources, curiously intermingled, a whole stream of Fables evolved itself; whereat the morally athirst, such was the genius of that time, were not slow to drink. Boner, as we have seen, worked in a field then zealously cultivated: nay was not Æsop himself, what we have for Æsop, a contemporary of his; the Greek Monk Planudes and the Swiss Monk Boner might be chanting their Psalter at one and the same hour! Fable, indeed, may be regarded as the earli est and simplest product of Didactic Poetry, the first attempt of Instruction clothing itself in Fancy: hence the antiquity of Fables, their universal diffusion in the childhood of nations, so that they have become a common property of all: hence also their acceptance and diligent culture among the Germans, among the Europeans, in this the first stage of an era when the whole bent of Literature was Didactic. But the Fourteenth Century was the age of Fable in a still wider sense: it was the age when whatever Poetry there remained took the shape of Apologue and moral Fiction: the higher spirit of Imagination had died away, or withdrawn itself into Religion; the lower and feebler not only took continual counsel of Understanding, but was content to walk in its leading-strings. Now was the time when human life and its relations were looked at with an earnest practical eye; and the moral perplexities that occur there, when man, hemmed in between the Would and the Should, or the Must, painfully hesitates, or altogether sinks in that collision, were not only set forth in the way of precept, but imbodied, for still clearer instruction, in Examples and edifying Fictions. The Monks themselves, such of them as had any talent, meditated and taught in this fashion: witness that strange Gesta Rominorum, still extant, and once familiar over all Europe;—a Collection of Moral Tales, expressly devised for the use of Preachers, though only the Shakspeares, and in subsequent times, turned it to right purpose. These and the like old Gests, with most of which the Komuns had so little to do, were the staple Literature of that period: cultivated with great assiduity, and so far as mere invention, or compilation, of incident goes, with no little merit; for already almost all the grand destinies, and fundamental, ever-recurring entanglements of hu man life, are laid hold of and depicted here; so that, from the first, our modern Novelists and Dramatists could find nothing new under the sun, but everywhere, in contrivance of their Story, saw themselves forestalled. The bound less abundance of Narratives then current, the singular derivations and transmigrations See an account of this curious Book in Douce' learned and ingenious Illustrations of Shakspears of these, surprise antiquarian commentators: | graf given up the reins of his imagination into but, indeed, it was in this same century that his author's hands, he might have been pleased Boccaccio, refining the gold from that so copi- he knew not why; whereas the meshes of ous dross, produced his Decamerone, which still Theology, in which he kicks and struggles, indicates the same fact in more pleasant fash- here strangle the life out of him; and the Ten ion, to all readers. That in these universal Virgins at Eisenach are more fatal to warlike tendencies of the time the Germans participated men, than Eschylus' Furies at Athens were to and co-operated, Boner's Fables, and Hugo's weak women. many Narrations, serious and comic, may, like two specimens from a great multitude, point out to us. The Madrigal had passed into the Apologue; the Heroic Poem, with its supernatural machinery and sentiment, into the Fiction of practical Life: in which latter species a prophetic eye might have discerned the coming Tom Joneses and Wilhelm Meisters; and with still more astonishment, the Minerva Presses of all nations, and this their huge transit-trade in Rags, all lifted from the dunghill, printed on, and returned thither, to the comfort of parties interested. The Drama, as is well known, had an equally Didactic origin; namely, in those Mysteries contrived by the clergy for bringing home religious truth, with new force, to the universal comprehension. That this cunning device had already found its way into Germany, we have proof in a document too curious to be omitted here: "In the year 1322, there was a play shown at Eisenach, which had a tragical enough effect. Markgraf Friedrich of Misnia, Landgraf also of Thuringia, having brought his tedious warfares to a conclusion, and the country beginning now to revive under peace, his subjects were busy repaying themselves for the past distresses by all manner of diversions; to which end, apparently by the Sovereign's order, a dramatic representation of the Ten Virgins was schemed, and at Eisenach, in his presence, duly executed. This happened fifteen days after Easter, by indulgence of the Preaching Friars. In the Chronicon Sampetrinum, stands recorded that the play was enacted in the Bear-garden, (in horto ferarum,) by the Clergy and their Scholars. But now, when it came to pass that the Wise Virgins would give the Foolish no oil, and these latter were shut out from the Bridegroom, they began to weep bitterly, and called on the Saints to intercede for them; who, however, ever with Mary at their head, could effect nothing from God; but the Foolish Virgins were all sentenced to damnation. Which things the Landgraf seeing and hearing, he fell into a doubt, and was very angry; and said, 'What then is the Christian Faith, if God will not take pity on us, for intercession of Mary and all the Saints?' In this anger he continued five days; and the learned men could hardly enlighten him to understand the Gospel. Thereupon he was struck with apoplexy, and became speechless and powerless; in which sad state he continued, bedrid, two years and seven months, and so died, being then fifty-five."* Surely a serious warning, would they but take it, to Dramatic Critics, not to venture beyond their depth! Had this fiery old Land Flögel, (Geschichte der Romischen Literatur, iv. 287,) who founds on that old Chronicon Sampetrinum Erfurtense, contained in Menke's Collection. Neither were the unlearned People without their Literature, their Narrative Poetry; though how, in an age without printing and bookstalls, it was circulated among them; whether by strolling Fiedelers, (Minstrels,) who might recite as well as fiddle, or by other methods, we have not learned. However, its existence and abundance in this era is sufficiently evinced by the multitude of Volksbücher (People'sBooks) which issued from the Press, next century, almost as soon as there was a Press. Several of these, which still languidly survive among the people, or at least the children, of all countries, were of German composition; of most, so strangely had they been sifted and winnowed to and fro, it was impossible to fix the origin. But borrowed or domestic, they nowhere wanted admirers in Germany: the Patient Helena, the Fair Magelone, Blue-Beard, Fortunatus; these, and afterwards the Seven Wise Masters, with other more directly sopic ware, to which the introduction of the old Indian Stock, or Look of Wisdom, translated from John of Capua's Latin, one day formed a rich accession, were in all memories, and on all tongues. Beautiful traits of Imagination and a pure genuine feeling, though under the rudest forms, shine forth in some of these old Tales: for instance, in Magelone and Fortunatus; which two, indeed, with others of a different stamp, Ludwig Tieck has, with singular talent, ventured, not unsuccessfully, to reproduce in our own time and dialect. A second class distinguish themselves by a homely, honest-hearted Wisdom, full of character and quaint devices; of which class the Seven Wise Masters, extracted chiefly from that Gesta Romanorum above mentioned, and containing "proverb-philosophy, anecdotes, fables, and jests, the seeds of which, on the fertile German soil, spread luxuriantly through several generations," is perhaps the best example. Lastly, in a third class, we find in full play that spirit of broad drollery, of rough, saturnine Humour, which the Germans claim as a special characteristic; among these, we must not omit to mention the Schiltbürger, correspondent to our own Wise Men of Gotham; still less, the far-famed Tyll Eulenspiegel, (Tyll Owlglass,) whose rogueries and waggeries belong, in the fullest sense, to this era. This last is a true German work; for both the man Tyll Eulenspiegel, and the Book which is his history, were produced there. Nevertheless, Tyll's fame has gone abroad into all lands: this, the narrative of his exploits, has been published in innumerable editions, even with all manner of learned glosses, and translated into Latin, English, French, Dutch, Polish; nay, in several lan In 1483, by command of a certain Eberhard, Duke of Würtemberg. What relation this old Book of Wisdom bears to our actual Pilpay, we have not learned. |