GERMANY: ANCIENT, MEDIÆVAL, AND MODERN.
Long before the northern barbarians had descended into the plains of
Italy as conquerors, and whilst they were still the tributaries of
Rome, they had earned the reputation of being brave, but indolent and
intemperate. Pliny, who has already enlightened us concerning the habits
of his own countrymen, tells us that the chief drink of the Germans was
beer, or, as he calls it, “corn steeped in water,” which, he says, was
capable of being kept until it had attained a great age. They, however,
soon learned the superiority of the wines of Italy and Gaul, and those
are said to have been not the least of the inducements which tempted them
to make incursions into their neighbours’ territories. Tacitus describes
the Germans as a primitive, savage, and warlike race, much addicted to
intemperance in drink, but chaste and virtuous in their relations with
women, whom they treated with great respect.[178] He says that they
slept late into the day, and on rising they proceeded to bathe, after
which they partook of a meal, each sitting on a distinct seat and at a
separate table. They then went armed to business, and not less frequently
to convivial parties, in which it was no disgrace to pass whole days
and nights without intermission in drinking. The frequent quarrels which
arose amongst them when intoxicated seldom terminated in abusive language
only, but more frequently in bloodshed. Their drink, he also says, was
a liquor prepared from barley or wheat, brought by fermentation to a
certain resemblance of wine, but those who bordered on the Rhine also
purchased wine. They fed on fresh venison (some writers say they ate
it raw), wild fruits, and coagulated milk, and their intemperance in
eating and drinking was such as to give great advantage to the Romans in
their wars, or, as Tacitus puts it, “intemperance proves as effectual in
subduing them as the force of arms.”
A modern German writer, who has devoted considerable attention to
the rise, progress, and subsidence of the passion for drink in his
native land, attributes the love of drink in his ancestors to the damp
climate, and to their being constantly engaged in war or in hunting wild
beasts.[179] They appear, however, to have regarded the use of wine at
first with some apprehension, as it affected their physical powers more
injuriously than beer; and although vineyards were planted at an early
period, it is said, by Roman soldiers, the production and use of wine was
long of a limited character.[180]
It is to Christianity, or at least to its professors, that the credit
belongs of having caused the growth of the grape and the consumption
of wine to extend in Germany, and in the neighbouring countries of
the West.[181] The holy sacrament necessitated its use, and so we
find that the first vineyards of any importance were planted around
the great monasteries, such as those in the neighbourhood of Mayence
and Würzburg,[182] of which, amongst others, special mention was made
about the middle of the ninth century. Beer and mead were, however, the
national drinks of the ancient German tribes,[183] and their drinking
habits affected their whole character as well as the destinies of their
descendants. They held counsel on matters of importance over their
potations, and verified the adage which was referred to by Pliny, and
has descended to us, that “in wine” (or, with them, in beer) “there is
truth.” So there were no diplomats, no Bismarcks nor Gortschakoffs, in
that age; the warriors were outspoken and frank in their expressions,
hasty and daring in their subsequent undertakings. Drinking to excess
soon gained a firm hold upon the whole nation, and took the form of
healths and toasts, of drinking for wagers, and pledging strangers and
wayfarers. These customs at once stamped the Germans as an hospitable
people, and although “guest-friendship,” as it is still called, was a
conspicuous characteristic of the Middle Ages all over Europe, it seems
to have been pre-eminently the quality of the Germans.
Very early in the history of the nation, it is an admitted fact that all
classes and both sexes indulged freely in potations, so much so, that as
far back as the middle of the eighth century systematic attempts were
made to legislate against drunkenness. Charlemagne, whose character has
been variously judged by different historians, and who was undoubtedly
a Henry the Eighth in his conjugal relations, in the matter of drink
presented an example worthy of imitation. If not a total abstainer, he
was at least an extremely temperate drinker, and both in that respect
as well as by imperial edicts he endeavoured to reform the drinking
habits of his subjects. He forbade suitors or witnesses to appear in
court intoxicated, earls to sit in judgment unless perfectly sober, and
priests to offer drink to penitents.[184] If any one of his soldiers
was found drunk in camp, he was restricted to water as a beverage
until he admitted the heinousness of his offence and publicly implored
forgiveness.[185] But these edicts were of no avail. They, along with
others, which were directed not only against the common people, but also
against princes, rulers, and their following, were enacted again and
again in later times; as, for example, that of the Emperor Frederick III.
at a Reichstag in Worms, 1495, which ordered “all electors, princes,
prelates, counts, knights, and gentlemen to discountenance and severely
punish drunkenness;” and that of Karl IV., which stated in the preamble
that the vice is greatly on the increase, that it leads to blasphemy,
murder, and manslaughter, and that such vices and crimes have rendered
the Germans, “whose manliness was so famous in olden times, despised and
contemned of all foreign nations.”
Neither were the orders of temperance which were established in the
Middle Ages much more successful. Those were not mere associations of
the “moral suasion” class. Some of them were founded and governed by
emperors, princes, and counts, others by ecclesiastics or burghers. They
were levelled not only at drinking, but at its companion sins, cursing
and swearing; and the records of some of them would delight the heart of
a modern suppressor of the liquor traffic, from the severity with which
they show the rules to have been enforced. In some, the fines which were
inflicted upon the members for breaches of discipline were moderate, the
transgressor having to pay, “through the will of God, three kreuzers to
the poor.” In other cases a Rhenish florin was the forfeit. Those seem
to have been high-class societies. Occasionally, however, we meet with
such punishments as “three days and three nights in gaol,” but that
was for a miserable “knecht” (a serf); gentlemen were not so rudely
handled. In their case it was “five shillings and costs,” not “fourteen
days’ imprisonment.” But if these enactments and associations for the
suppression of drunkenness testified to its widespread prevalence, how
much more significant is the undoubted fact that there were orders of
_in_temperance, with formal codes of rules. The drinking-songs of the
students, and the drinking-code (_Jus potandi_), which is believed
by some writers to have been a genuine collection of rules for the
regulation of drinking, and by others to be merely a satire levelled
against drunkenness, reveal the situation to all who care to peruse
them.[186] Here is a description of the habits of the time as given by
the students:[187]—
“Bibit hera, bibit herus,
Bibit miles, bibit clerus,
Bibit ille, bibit illa,
Bibit servus cum ancilla,
Bibit velox, bibit piger,
Bibit albus, bibit niger,
Bibit constans, bibit vagus,
Bibit rudis, bibit magus.
...
Bibit pauper et ægrotus,
Bibit exul et ignotus,
Bibit puer, bibit canus,
Bibit præsul et decanus,
Bibit soror, bibit frater,
Bibit anus, bibit mater,
Bibit iste, bibit ille,
Bibunt centum, bibunt mille.”
In short, everybody, man, woman, and child, drank to their heart’s
content. Drinking formed part of the education of youth. “Now, let us
see,” said the fond parent to his little son, “let us see what you can
do. Bring him a half-measure;” and later on, “Bring him a measure.”[188]
And men told one another in high glee how they had succeeded in making
all their guests drunk the evening before, and how long each had managed
to hold out before he succumbed. Drunken tournaments were held, and Hans
Sachs, the national poet, gives an account of one of them which he had
witnessed, where twelve “beer heroes” succeeded in drinking from “pots
and cans” a tun of beer in six hours! Of course, it was necessary to
introduce something like order into this drinking world; and just as we
have found religious beliefs, and laws, and ceremonies accumulate through
ages, and handed down by tradition until the master-mind appeared to
codify the whole and reduce it to writing, so “Jus Potandi” was the grand
outcome of the wise drinking legislation of generations of topers. As
already remarked, whether it be a serious production or merely a satire,
its significance remains the same. It described the liquors of the age,
the beers especially. Rostocker, Hamburger, Dantzger duppelbier (equal to
our XX), Preussing, Brunswick mumme, Hanoverian broyhan, English beer,
which, along with many more, were, we are told, infinitely preferable to
such rubbish as Wittemburg cuckoo, Buffalo, or “_Leipzig herb-flavoured
body-rending Rastrum_,” whatever that may have been.[189]
It must have been a highly edifying spectacle a mediæval German
drinking-feast, comprising a mixed company of guests, who acknowledged
and obeyed the drinking-code (_Zech-recht_). There was no promiscuous
hobnobbing, and caste was duly respected then as now. Nobles were not
permitted to drink with tradespeople, but they might raise their glass to
a student, and he in like manner might condescend to notice a tradesman,
for there was no knowing of what advantage such a recognition might be
to a student.[190] A case is cited where a merchant (pedlar, we presume)
actually gave a poor “studiosus” a pair of beautiful silk stockings the
morning after a carouse, for which he had expressed a longing during the
entertainment. Young maidens were permitted to drink platonically with
virtuous young men, but they are warned in droll and not very modest
terms against “pseudo-prophêtes,” who are “lupi rapaces” in sheep’s
clothing, and the evils of drinking “sisterhood” with such ravening
wolves are duly and circumstantially set forth in the code.[191] One
clause is devoted specially to the expressions in vogue amongst ladies,
who may find it necessary, whilst at table, to protect themselves against
the too gross familiarities of their gallant neighbours.[192]
As a rule, guests might not pledge persons who were present, unless it
were a sweetheart, and that toast must be drunk “_ad unguem_”[193]—that
is to say, in a bumper—the drinkers afterwards reversing their goblets
and ringing them on the thumb-nail, to show that not a drop was left
therein. This has been a common drinking custom in several countries.
Toasts were drunk in various ways: sometimes one man drank from two
glasses at once; at others, when virtuous young ladies sat by the side
of respectable young men, they were allowed to drink simultaneously
from the same goblet, and it was deplored that such a mode of drinking
could not become more general, on account of the wild behaviour of the
youth of the period.[194] Regular penalties were inflicted for sneezing
and coughing into the goblets, and for certain other offences against
decency and propriety, which, although they seem to have been everyday
occurrences at those carousals, are unfit to be spoken of in genteel
society. When newcomers arrived, the goblet was offered to them, with
sundry compliments and orations, and to refuse to drink was a mortal
offence, usually followed by a bloody encounter. When a guest found it
difficult to keep pace with the company, or could not empty his goblet
at a draught, he might avail himself of the aid of any _young_ lady who
sat by his side, but _old_ ladies were not allowed to render assistance
under such circumstances, for they were too fond of their liquor
themselves.[195]
When men became riotous, gentle means were first to be employed to quiet
them; if they still persisted, warnings followed; and should they then
remain contumacious, they were to be well thrashed and sent home “as
cheaply as possible.” Table and window breaking were severely punished,
and certain acts of indecency, if practised before ladies, were to be
resented by seizing the offender and pitching him neck-and-crop into the
street.[196]
Should the reader be desirous of studying this remarkable code[197]
(whatever view he may take of its authenticity as a serious production),
he will find it composed in mediæval German, interspersed with Latin
and Greek phrases, as though it had been collated by some learned
ecclesiastic, which is more than probable—that is to say, by some
drunken hanger-on at a monastery; and he will see how the German youth
of bygone days studied as “vini et cerevisiæ candidatus,” and eventually
graduated in the courts of Bacchus. But if he imagines that the picture
is overdrawn, we should recommend him to consult the historical records,
and he will find that no language can adequately portray the state of
morals in Germany in those days, at least so far as drunkenness was
concerned.[198]
As already stated, in the highest as in the lowest ranks drinking to
excess was the universal practice. Kings set the example and subjects
followed it. One of the most temperate of the old Kaisers, Rudolph of
Hapsburg, is said to have called out in a loud voice in the streets of
Erfurt, holding a glass of beer up to the light, “Well! well! (Wohlan!
wohlan!) What splendid beer! I am sure it comes from Conrad of Bustede,”
and by this exclamation to have made himself extremely popular amongst
the Erfurters; just as our own Prince of Wales is believed by some to
have won the hearts of all true Britons by asking for a glass of bitter
beer on recovering consciousness during a dangerous illness. The stories
which are told of excesses in noble families, and of cruelties practised
in their indulgence, are not fit to be narrated in these pages. In some
noble households registers were kept from generation to generation,
called drink-albums, in which not only the men entered their exploits,
but—_O tempora, O mores_—the Gräfin von Schwillensaufenstein was allowed
to inscribe her name and sentiments (if she was able to write) side by
side with those of the Baron von Saus und Braus.[199] To be considered
of gentle blood, a man must of necessity be capable of draining off his
bumper at a draught. The goblet was an essential part of all ceremonies;
when the vassal swore fealty to his lord; at christenings, funerals,
tournaments, archery meetings; wherever knight met knight or burghers
congregated, there drinking followed. Bargains were concluded over the
goblet; indeed, a certain stipulated quantity of beer, to be drunk there
and then, formed part of the contract. The language of modern Germany,
and of England, for that matter, bears testimony to the universal thirst.
“Trink-geld” or drink-money—“allowance” with us—means a gratuity for
services rendered or not rendered. The “thirst” for gold, for glory,
or for fame; “intoxicated” with success or with love; “drinking” one’s
fill of some sensual delight, and many more such expressions, serve to
remind us of the paramount influence of drink in bygone days. German
intemperance had really become a byword amongst nations, as the edict
of Karl IV. declared. Antonius Campanius, an official witling who
represented the Pope at the Court of Frederick III., wrote to his master,
“Nil hic est aliud vivere, quam bibere,”—“Living here is nought but
drinking.” He might have gone further, and have said that even snoozing
was nought but boozing; for not only had each hour of the day and each
occasion its appropriate drink, but even the “schlaf-trunk,” _i.e._, the
sleeping-draught, was taken to the bedside of guests at night.[200]
The cheapness and varieties of intoxicating drinks, too, had something
to do with the prevailing drunkenness. Besides mead and beer, there were
numerous kinds of wine and liquors made from the grape, mulberry, apple,
pear, &c., and a favourite spiced wine called “Lütertrank.”[201] The low
price of wines at that time has been commemorated in a proverb of the
year 1539:
“Tausendfünfhundertdreissig und neun,
Galten die Fässer mehr als der Wein.”
Anglicised—
“In Fifteen hundred and thirty-nine,
The casks were valued at more than the wine.”
It was about that time that the enormous casks which are still so famous
were erected; that at Tübingen was twenty-four feet long and sixteen
feet in height, and the one at Heidelberg is of similar proportions. The
goblets which were used resembled the gigantic cups of ancient Rome, and,
like them, were made of various materials. Husbands presented their wives
with goblets of gold on their wedding mornings, and no greater compliment
could be paid by a vassal to his lord than to offer him a handsome gold
drinking vessel. Such goblets were often covered with narratives of the
drunken exploits of their owners. Nor were the clergy any better than
their flocks, although they preached against and denounced drunkenness
loudly enough. We shall have an opportunity of studying their ways later
on, but for the present one or two extracts from the ecclesiastical
chronicles and canons must suffice. In the monastery of St. Gall, during
the tenth century, each monk received daily five measures of beer,
besides occasional allowances of wine, which were consumed at breakfast,
dinner, and supper; and healths were often pledged by the abbots.[202]
“Amongst these vices,” said a preacher in Germany in the ninth century,
“feasting and drunkenness especially reign, since not only the rude and
vulgar people, but the noble and powerful of the land, are given up to
them. Both sexes and all ages have made intemperance into a custom; ...
and so greatly has the plague spread, that it has infected some of our
own order in the priesthood, so that not only do they not correct the
drunkards, but become drunkards themselves.”[203]
Again, the writer here quoted tells us of the penalties attached to
drunkenness amongst priests:—“1. If a bishop or any one ordained has a
habit of drunkenness, he must either resign or be deposed. 2. If a monk
drinks till he vomits, he must do thirty days’ penance; if a priest or
deacon, forty days. But if this happens from weakness of stomach or from
long abstinence, and he was not in the habit of excessive drinking or
eating, or if he did it in excess of joy on Christmas or Easter days, or
the commemoration of some saint, and if then he did not take more than
has been regulated by our predecessors, it is not to be punished. If the
bishop urged him, the fault is not to be imputed to the monk, unless he
gladly consented. 4. If a priest gets drunk through inadvertence, he must
do penance seven days; if through carelessness, fifteen days; if through
contempt, forty days; a deacon or monk, four weeks; a sub-deacon, three;
a layman, one week.”[204]
These quotations need no comment; the inferences to be drawn from them
may safely be left to the reader’s own judgment.[205]
But what neither legislative enactments, nor orders of temperance, nor
priestly admonitions, nor the pen of the satirist could accomplish, was
brought about insensibly and without an effort during the eighteenth
century, when various circumstances conduced to transform the Germans
from one of the most drunken to one of the soberest nations in Europe.
The introduction of Italian and French fashions into the rude courts of
Germany had something to do with the change; but this chiefly affected
the uppermost ranks of society. The importation of innocuous beverages
from the East—tea, coffee, and chocolate—and their extended use by all
classes, as well as the substitution of a milder but more palatable
kind of beer for the strong drink of the preceding centuries, were the
principal agents in the reform.[206] Moreover, the consumption of brandy,
which was very great before the Thirty Years’ War, had considerably
diminished, and by slow degrees the love of strong drink ceased to
characterise the various sections of society, from the denizens of the
court to those of the workshop. The last to relinquish their old depraved
habits were the students of the universities. It was not until after
the revolution of 1848, which reconstituted European society, that the
German “Bursche” forsook his evil ways; and although there is still great
room for improvement, he now compares favourably in his habits with the
students of other countries. But there is still another factor in the
modern civilisation of Germany which has been too little considered by
moralists, namely, the influence of compulsory education upon the masses.
This is the true corrective of the evil results which must always be
feared from the increasing affluence of the working classes, and it is
to be hoped it may operate favourably in Germany as well as in our own
industrial community.
But one of the writers whom we have quoted seems rather to have regretted
the good old toping days which were departing, and to have thought
that with the introduction of Oriental beverages all the manliness
and intellect of his countrymen would vanish. Indeed, he exclaims
despairingly, “And thus we see that it is with whole nations as with
individuals. One wicked, vehement passion is seldom exterminated
excepting by another. An old demon is rarely expelled otherwise than by a
new one.”[207]
This was written towards the close of the eighteenth century. What would
he have said if he had lived to witness Gravelotte, Metz, and Sedan?
* * * * *
We are all too prone to look upon the rose-coloured side of the national
life whilst we are travelling abroad, and it may be that a German tourist
whilst in England would be so impressed with the indications of industry
and prosperity which meet his eye wherever he goes, that the heinousness
of our national vice would be mitigated or partially lost from his view
in the surrounding glare. So, too, it is possible that, in judging the
German people of to-day, the author has been too favourably impressed
with those aspects of life which are presented to the holiday-seeker.
His observation has not, however, been quite superficial, and his
impressions of the moral and intellectual condition of the Germans is not
now stated for the first time.[208] Drunkenness appears to have given
place to sobriety, coarse sensual pleasures to intellectual enjoyments
resulting from the cultivation of music and the fine arts. The very
temperance societies of Germany bear witness to the sobriety of the
working classes, and present a strange contrast to our own, for they
deem it unnecessary to do more than enjoin moderation in drinking.[209]
The old writer must, indeed, himself have been imbued with that passion
which for centuries made Germany the scorn and byword of Europe (although
some of her neighbours, forsooth, had little to boast of in the matter
of temperance), a vice which threatened eventually to hand her over to
the same fate as ancient Rome had suffered at the hands of her ancestry.
If only her people are as successful in securing political freedom[210]
as they have been in emancipating themselves from the besetting sin of
their forefathers, there is a great and happy future in store for the
“Fatherland.”