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Transcriber's notes:
1. Page scan source: Google Books
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IxnPQ6cC
2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
PICTURES OF GERMAN LIFE
IN THE
FIFTEENTH, SIXTEENTH, AND SEVENTEENTH CENTURIES.
* * * * *
VOL. I.
PICTURES
OF
GERMAN LIFE
In the XVth XVIth and XVIIth Centuries.
BY
GUSTAV FREYTAG
Translated from the Original by
MRS. MALCOLM.
_COPYRIGHT EDITION.--IN TWO VOLUMES_.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193 PICCADILLY.
1862.
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET.
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
The great interest which these graphic Pictures of Life in Germany have
created in that country, has induced me to translate them. The object
of the distinguished author seems to have been, to convey a lesson, a
warning, and at the same time an encouragement to his countrymen,
derived from the experience of the past; whilst he demonstrates to
other nations how it is, that a people so superior in intellectual
power, has remained so far behind in social and political development.
I have also felt as an additional reason, that at the present moment,
the British public must take a deep interest in everything connected
with the past, and future, of the country in which the daughter of our
beloved Queen has cast her lot, and which was the Fatherland of the
revered Prince, who has been a source of blessing to England for so
many years, and whose irreparable loss we now so deeply deplore.
GEORGIANA MALCOLM.
CONTENTS.
FIFTEENTH AND SIXTEENTH CENTURIES.
Introduction.--Life of a German proprietor, 300, 200, and 100 years
ago--In what respect the life of the past appears alien to us--Greater
repression of the individual mind--Significance of the last four
centuries
CHAPTER I.
Scenes From The Hussite War (1425)--Emigration of Germans to
the east after the thirteenth century--Silesia and its Sclave
Princes--Colonization, the blessing of free labour recognized--
Character and fate of the German Silesians--Contrast of the
Bohemians--Narrative by Martin von Bolkenhain--Consequences of the
Hussite war and subsequent fate of the Silesians
CHAPTER II.
A German Lady Of The Royal Court (1440)--Development of the
popular mind in the Hussite time--Life at Court--The last of
the Luxemburgers--The Hungarian Crown--Narration of Helen
Kottanner--Struggles of conscience in the fifteenth century
CHAPTER III.
A Travelling Student (1509)--Characteristics of the fifteenth
century--Introductions in the sixteenth century--Excitement in
the people, wandering propensities, exciting news, Landsknechte,
art of printing--German learning; the Humanitarians--The Latin
schools, the children of the people as scholars--Narrative Of Thomas
Platter--Influence of the Latin schools upon the people
CHAPTER IV.
The Mental Struggles of a Youth, and his Entrance into a Monastery
(1510)--The wants of the popular mind--The church--Brotherhoods;
Indulgences--Opposition to them--Narrative Of Friedrich Myconius
CHAPTER V.
Out of the Cloister into the Struggle (1522)--The storm among the
people--Luther's popularity--Narration of Ambrosius Blaurer--The knight
from the Wartburg--Narrative of Johann Kessler
CHAPTER VI.
Doctor Luther (1517 to 1546)--His importance to us--The tragic in his
life--Distinct periods in it--His father--Mental struggle in the
monastery, and how he delivered himself from it--His character in
1519--Three letters to the Pope--An inward struggle--Luther as a
writer--At the Wartburg--Adherence to Scripture, and defects in his
method--The marriage of priests--Return to Wittenberg--His political
position--The crisis--How he married--Activity of his latter years--His
spirit, his family, his God, his temptations, and ideas of the end of
the world--From the funeral discourse of Melancthon--Letter of Luther
to the Elector Friedrich the Wise, March, 1522
CHAPTER VII.
German Princes At The Imperial Diet (1547)--Luther and Charles
V.--The Roman Empire--Possibility of a new confirmation--The man
wanting--Princes of the sixteenth century--Charles V.--Narrative of
Bartholomaeus Sastrow--Weakness of the Imperial power--Alliance of the
German opposition with France--Internal disorganization of the empire
CHAPTER VIII.
A Burgher Family (1488)--Insight into the lower circles of German
life--Increasing popular strength--Social superiority of the Protestant
provinces (1542)--Insecurity of life--Family History Of Bartholomaeus
Sastrow
CHAPTER IX.
The Marriage and Housekeeping of a Young Student (1557)--The female sex
among the Germans--Position of women in the middle ages--Marriage
considered as an alliance between families--The betrothal--Narrative of
Felix Platter
CHAPTER X.
Of a Patrician House (1526 to 1598)--The patricians rich and
educated--Hans Schweinichen's account of the riches of the
Fuggers--Their women--Clara Pirkheimer and Argula von Grumbach--Letters
of a Lady of the Glauburg Family
CHAPTER XI.
German Nobility In The Sixteenth Century (1500)--False position
in the nation--Unproductiveness--Gradual change--Character of Goetz
von Berlichingen--Extract from his Autobiography--Character of
Schaertlin--Narrative Of Schaertlin--Hans von Schweinichen and Duke
Heinrich von Liegnitz--Narrative Of Schweinichen--Transition to modern
life
CHAPTER XII.
German Ideas of the Devil in the Sixteenth Century (1500)--The
introduction of German traditions concerning him; change in the middle
ages--Luther spiritualizes the ideas regarding the devil--Activity of
the devil in the new Church--Compacts with the devil after Luther's
time--Favourable position of the possessed--The money devil at
Frankfort--Satan exorcised from one possessed--Witches--Dreadful
persecutions--Gloomy state of men's minds at the end of the sixteenth
century
DEDICATION.
To my dear Friend Solomon Hertzel.
Without your knowledge I dedicate this work to you, who have taken so
kind an interest in it, whose excellent library has so often helped
when other sources failed, and where, as industrious collectors, we
have examined so many old flying sheets and manuscripts.
To you also these records of the olden times, in which the private life
and feelings of the writers are portrayed, are especially valuable, for
by them a clear light is thrown on events in our political history
which till now have been only occasionally noticed, and we may discover
from them how the German people have felt, suffered, and lived.
If these records of individuals can be judiciously arranged according
to periods and their position in life, it appears to me that an
instructive insight may be obtained into the gradual development of the
mind of the German people.
I have endeavoured to carry this out from the middle ages to the
beginning of the present era.
What I have added of my own is simple explanation: I have avoided
saying anything where it could be given in the original; only where the
old records fail to give a complete picture have I supplied the
deficiency.
As there are very few who can read the language of the fifteenth, or
even the seventeenth, century with ease, I have thought it necessary to
translate the records into modern German, but at the same time to
preserve something of the old style.
Accept kindly then, my friend, what of right belongs to you, for your
flag waves on every vessel that I launch; and I trust that the freight
that I have this time prepared, may meet with your hearty approbation.
GUSTAV FREYTAG.
_Siebleben, 8th October_, 1859.
INTRODUCTION.
In vain does the German seek for "the good old times." If even the
pious zealot who condemns Hegel and Humboldt as the greatest of
Atheists, or the conservative proprietor who is struggling for the
privileges of his order, were to be thrown back into one of the last
centuries, he would feel first unmitigated astonishment, then horror,
at the position in which he would find himself placed. What now appears
to him so desirable would make him miserable, and he would be driven to
despair at the loss of all the advantages of that civilization which he
at present so little appreciates.
Let a German proprietor endeavour to realize to himself the position
of one of his ancestors in the year 1559. Instead of the house he
has now, built in the old German style, surrounded by its English
pleasure-grounds, he would find himself shut up in a gloomy, dirty, and
comfortless building, placed either on a height destitute of water, and
exposed to the cutting blasts of the wind, or else surrounded by the
f[oe]tid smells of stagnant ditches. It is true that three generations
back dim panes had been added to the small windows,[1] and large stoves
of Dutch tiles, which were fed with logs from the neighbouring forest,
kept the cold out of the sitting-rooms; but the accommodation was
limited, as it was occasionally necessary to defend the house against
attacks from the citizens of the nearest town, roving bands of
marauders, or reckless soldiers bent on revenge because they had been
cheated of half their pay by the neighbouring prince.
Comfortless and dirty is the house, for it is occupied by many others
beside the family of the owner: younger brothers and cousins, with
their wives and children, numberless servants, amongst them many of
doubtful character, men-at-arms, labourers, and in 1559, mercenaries,
may be added. In the court-yard, from the dung-heap is heard the cry of
children quarrelling, and from round the kitchen fire the no less
inharmonious sound of wrangling women. The children of the house grow
up amongst horses, dogs, and servants; they receive scanty instruction
in the village school; the boys keep the geese[2] and poultry for their
mother, or they go with the village people to the wood to collect wild
pears and mushrooms, which are dried for the winter meal; the lady of
the castle is housekeeper, head cook, and doctor of the establishment,
and is well accustomed to intercourse with lawless men and to the
ill-treatment of her drunken husband. She is faithful, a thorough
manager, proud of her escutcheon, of the gold chains and brocades
belonging to the family; she looks suspiciously on the dress and finery
of the wives of the counsellors of the town, who she considers have no
right to wear sable and ermine, velvet dresses, pearls in their hair,
and precious stones round their necks. The love and tenderness of her
nature frequently gave elevation to her countenance and manners; but in
those days, both in the homes of the nobles and in the courts of
princes, much was considered decorous and was permitted to women of the
highest character in familiar conversation which now would be condemned
as unseemly in the wife of a common labourer.
The daily life of the landed proprietor is one of idleness or wild
excitement. The hunting is certainly excellent. Where the forest has
not been laid waste by the reckless stroke of the axe, grow the stately
trees of the primeval wood; the howl of the wolf is still heard in the
winter nights; the hunters sally forth on horseback, with spear and
cross-bow, against beasts of prey, stags, roedeer, and the wild boar,
and all adopt the habits of the rough hunters. But whilst hunting, even
in his own wood, every one must be provided with weapons against other
foes than the wolf and the boar. There are few hunting-grounds
concerning which there is not some quarrel with a neighbour or feudal
lord, who often claims the right of following the chase up to the
squire's castle; the squire is also set at defiance by the peasants of
the nearest village, whose crops have been laid waste by the stag and
the boar, and who hates the master of the castle for having beaten or
thrown him into prison for crossing the path of the chase; and not
unfrequently an arrow whistles through the darkness of the wood with
other aim than a wild animal; or an armed band breaks through a
clearing, and then begins a race for freedom and life. We will suppose
the game to be brought home and cut up in the castle yard; then follows
the banquet, with endless drinking of healths and wild revelry, and
seldom a night passes without the whole party breaking up in a state of
intoxication. Drunkenness was at this time a national evil, prostrating
alike the powers of princes, nobles, and people. The guests at the hunt
and the banquet are of the same rank as their host--some are old
cavaliers, constantly swearing, and relating anecdotes of the knightly
feats they have performed in the greenwood against the traders and
townspeople; others a younger race, hangers-on of the great feudal
lords, who proudly wear the gold-laced caps given by these lords to
their vassals.
Thus the week passes away. On Sunday it is considered a duty to attend
the village church, and listen to the preacher's endless sermon, which
generally breathes hatred to Calvinists or Papists, and denounces the
factious Schwenkfeld or the apostate Melancthon. There is but little
intercourse with foreign countries: the country gentleman gratifies his
curiosity by buying from the itinerant pedler what was then called a
newspaper, being a few quarto sheets published at intervals in the
towns, containing very doubtful intelligence, such as a horrible fight
having taken place between the sons of the Turkish sultan, a young
maiden being possessed by the devil, or the French king having been
struck on the head by one of his nobles. Sometimes the young squire
listens to the songs of ballad singers, who recite similar news to old
popular tunes, or, what is still more welcome, satirical verses on some
neighbour, which the singer has been paid to propagate far and wide
through the country. The reading which gives most pleasure at home, is
either some astrological absurdity, such as a prophecy of old Wilhelm
Friese or Gottfried Phyllers, or a description of the funeral festival
of the Emperor Charles V. at Augsburg; besides these, theological
writings find their way into the castle.
This life, which in spite of all its excitement is so meagre and
monotonous, is sometimes varied by the discovery of a murdered man in
the fields, or by some old woman of the village being accused of
witchcraft. These incidents give rise to judicial proceedings, in the
first case tardy and of little interest, in the latter fierce and
bloodthirsty.
There are other annoyances in these times from which the landed
proprietor is seldom free,--lawsuits and many difficulties. His father
had sought to obtain money for the payment of his debts on the highway
in his breastplate and saddle, and thus revenged himself for his
injured rights. But now a new age has begun, and law asserts its
supremacy over the self-will and independence of individuals; it is
however an uncertain, dilatory, distorted law, which overlooks the
powerful, and too often favours the wealthy. The young squire still
rides his charger, armed with lance and pistol, but he is no longer
eager to obtain fame and booty in war. The foot-soldier with pike and
musket, and light-horseman of the town have outstripped him. Even at
the tournament he prefers running at the ring; and if perchance he
should encounter in the lists any person of distinction, he finds it
more advantageous to allow himself to be unhorsed, than to contend
manfully.
The condition of his peasantry is wretched: they have sunk from freemen
to slaves; the rent they have to pay in labour, corn, and money,
swallows up their earnings, yet he benefits little by it. The roads
being bad and unsafe, it is impossible to export his produce: he is
just able to keep himself and his household, for his income is small;
everything has become dear; the new gold which has been brought to
Europe from America is amassed in the great commercial towns, and is of
little advantage to him, and he is unable to maintain the state
suitable to his position.
He holds obstinately to all he considers his right, and supports or
resists his feudal lord according to his personal advantage;
occasionally he follows him to the Imperial Diet. But in the Provincial
States, he eagerly resists the impost of new taxes; he has no real love
of his country, and only feels himself German in opposition to Italians
and Spaniards, whom he hates; but looks with a selfish interest on
France, whose King burns cursed Calvinists and engages German Lutherans
at high salaries. The province in which he lives has no political
unity; the sovereignty of his feudal lord is no longer a firm edifice,
and his attachment is therefore only occasional. His egotism alone is
firm and lasting, a miserable hateful egotism, which has scarce power
to excite him to deeds of daring, not even to bind him to others of his
own class. Rarely does the feeling of his own social position ennoble
his conversation or actions; his education and knowledge of the world
are not greater than those of a horsedealer of the present day.
A century has passed, it is the year 1659--ten years since the
conclusion of the great German war. The walls of the old castles have
been shattered, foreign soldiers have encamped within them, whose fires
have blackened the ruins, and whose fury has emptied the granaries and
destroyed all the household goods. The squire has now erected a new
building with the stones of the old one; it is a bare house, with thick
walls, and without ornament; the windows look on a miserable village,
which is only partly built, and on a field which, for the first time
for many years, is prepared for cultivation; the flock of sheep has
been replenished, but there are no horses, and the peasants have
learned to plough with oxen. The owner of the house has no longer to
provide for the horses of troopers and knights; a coach stands in a
hovel,--a kind of lumbering chest on leather straps, but nevertheless
the pride of the family. The house is surrounded by walls and moats
with drawbridges; massive locks and strong iron work defend the
entrances, for the country is still insecure. Gipsies and bands of
marauders lurk in the neighbourhood, and the daily conversation is of
robberies and horrible murders. There is great regularity both in house
and village, and strict order is kept by the squire amongst his
children, servants, and retainers; but many wild figures may be still
seen about the court-yard,--disbanded soldiers who have taken service
as messengers, foresters, halberdiers, &c. The village school is in sad
decay, but the squire's children receive instruction from a poor
scholar. The squire wears a wig with flowing curls; instead of the
knightly sword, a slender rapier hangs at his side; in society his
movements and conversation are stiff and formal; the townspeople call
him your honour, and his daughter has become "fraulein" and
"damoiselle;" the lady of the house wears a bunch of keys at her side;
she is great in receipts and superstitious remedies, and her repose is
troubled by ghostly apparitions in the old tower of the castle. When a
visitor approaches, the spinning-wheel is hidden, an embroidered dress
is quickly put on, the scanty family treasures of silver goblets and
tankards laid out on the sideboard, a groom, who is just capable of
making a bow, is hastily put into livery, and perfumes are burnt in
the room. The young squire when he visits appears as a gallant a la
mode,--in lace coat and wig, and pays the most fulsome compliments to
the lady of the house; he is her most devoted slave, he extols the
daughter as a heart-enslaver, and declares that she is quite angelic in
her appearance; but these finely turned compliments are bad sauce to
coarse manners, and are generally interspersed with stable language and
oaths. When conversation begins to flow more freely, it is directed by
preference to subjects which are no longer ambiguous, and women listen,
not with the naivete of former times, but with secret pleasure, to the
boldness of such language, for it is the fashion to relate improper
anecdotes, and by enigmatical questions to produce a pretty affected
embarrassment in the ladies. But even such conversation soon wearies,
and the wine begins to circulate, the hilarity becomes noisy, and they
finish by getting very drunk, after the old German fashion. They smoke
clay pipes, and cavaliers of high breeding take snuff from silver
boxes. The chase is again the amusement of the country gentleman: he
tries to exterminate the wolves, which during the late war have become
numerous and insolent; he exhibits rifles among his hunting gear, but
no longer mounts his steed as an armed knight; his armour is rusty, his
independence is gone, war is carried on by the soldiers of the Prince,
and he appears at court only as the obsequious servant of his
illustrious lord.
He is still firm in his faith, and adheres to the rites of the Church;
but he holds in contempt the theological controversies of the clergy,
and does not object to holding intercourse with unbelievers, though he
prefers Jesuits to zealous sectarians. The pastor of his village is
poor and devout, and from living amongst lawless men, has lost much of
his priestly pride; he strives to support himself by agriculture, and
considers it an honour to dine at the squire's table, and has in return
to laugh at his patron's jokes, and retail the news of the day. When it
is a fete day at the castle he presents a pompous poem, in which he
calls on Venus, the Muses and Graces, to celebrate in Olympus the
birthday of the lady of the house. On such days there is music at the
castle, and the viola da gamba is the fashionable instrument. Once a
week the newspaper is brought to the castle, from thence it is sent to
the parsonage, then to the schoolmaster and forester: the chief reading
besides this consists of tedious novels and histories of adventures, or
anecdotes of ghostly apparitions and discoveries of treasure; sometimes
also dissertations on the phenomena of nature, the first glimmering of
a more intellectual literature. The squire interests himself in
politics; he distrusts Sweden, and abhors the regicide tendencies of
England, but admires everything French, and whosoever can give him news
of Paris is a welcome guest. He attends the Diet, but it is only for
the sake of maintaining the privileges of his order; he lounges in
antechambers, and by bribery endeavours to secure for his relations
some appointment about the court. He unwillingly allows his son to
study law, with the hope that he may, as royal counsellor, advance the
interests of his family; in short, he looks upon the court and the
government as wine vats to be tapped, so as to afford him a good
draught. Germany is to him a mere geographical spot, which he neither
loves nor hates; his family or his order are all that he serves or
cares for, and if one abstracts from him his high pretensions, and
compares the remains of the kernel with the men of our own time, we
should find more sense and rectitude in the stubborn head of a
corporation of the smallest town than in him.
Again a century has passed, a time of little energy or national
strength, and yet great changes have taken place. The year 1759 is in
the youth of our grandfathers; numberless remembrances cling to our
hearts; it will be sufficient to recall a few. The squire's house has
no longer a bare front: a porch has been added, supported by stone
pillars; the staircase is ornamented with vases; over the hall door a
rudely carved angel holds the family arms emblazoned on a spiral shell.
On one side of the building lies the farm-yard, on the other the
garden, laid out with trim beech hedges and obelisks of yew. The old
whitewashed walls are almost all covered with plaster-of-paris, and
some are highly ornamented. There is an abundance of household
furniture beautifully carved in oak or walnut; near the ancient family
portraits hang modern pastil pictures, amongst them perhaps the
daughter of the house as a shepherdess with a crook in her hand. In the
apartments of the lady of the house there is a porcelain table with
coloured tankards, small cups, pug-dogs, and Cupids of this newly
discovered material. Propriety reigns everywhere with a strict stern
rule; women and servants speak low, children kiss their parents' hands,
the master of the house calls his wife "ma chere," and uses other
French phrases. The hair is powdered, and the ladies wear stiff gowns
and high head-dresses; violent emotions or strong passions seldom
disturb the stiff formality of their carriage or the tranquillity of
the house.
The squire has become economist, and looks a little after the farming;
he tries by selecting choice breeds to improve the wool of his flocks,
and raises carefully the new bulb called the potato, which is to be a
source of unfailing nourishment to man and beast. The mode of life is
quiet, simple, and formal. The mother shakes her head about Gellert's
'Life of the Swedish Countess;' the daughter is delighted with Kleist's
'Spring,' and sings to the harpsichord of violets and lambs; and the
father carries in his pocket the 'Songs of a Grenadier.' Coffee is
placed before the visitors, and on high holidays chocolate makes its
appearance. Everything is managed by government officials, and much is
required of the country gentleman, who has to pay taxes without being
consulted: he is a person of more consideration than the citizen, but
is now far removed from the prince. The great noble looks with
contempt on him, and it is well for him if he does not feel the
weight of his stick: the officials of the capital interfere with his
farming; they order him to dig a drain, to build a mill, even to plant
mulberry-trees, and send him the eggs of silkworms, insisting upon his
rearing them. It is a weary time; the third, or Seven years', war is
raging between the king and emperor; the squire is walking about his
room, wringing his hands and weeping. How is it that this hard man has
so completely lost his composure? The letter on the table has informed
him that his son, an officer in the king's army, has come unscathed out
of the fight at Cunnersdorf; why then does he weep and wring his hands?
His King is in distress; the state to which he belongs is in danger of
destruction, and it is for this that he grieves. He is greater, richer,
and better than any of his ancestors, for he has a fatherland; the
training of his generation is rough, manners coarse, and government
despotic; his knowledge of the world is not greater than that of a
subordinate official of the present day, but this feeling within him,
either in life or death, makes him a man.
Life in every period of the German past was much rougher than now; but
it is not the hardships of individuals which make the old time appear
so strange to us, it is that the whole mode of life, in every thought
and feeling, is so essentially different. The reason of this difference
is, that at all periods of the past the mind of the individual was less
free and more subordinate to the spirit of the nation; we may see this
especially in the middle ages, but it may still be observed in the last
century.
There was no such thing as public opinion. The individual submitted his
conscience to the approbation of those with whom he lived; he committed
to them his honour, interests, and safety, and only felt that he
existed as a member of the society, thus rendering the necessity of
union more urgent. How strikingly this tendency of the old times was
exemplified in the clubs of Hanseatic stations! The constraint within
their closed walls was almost monkish. Every word and gesture at the
dinner-table was regulated, and this rule was maintained by severe
punishments. The soldiers who roamed about together in troops from all
parts of Germany, made laws for themselves, by which they kept the
strictest discipline, each being accuser and judge of the other. Upon a
sea voyage the passengers selected from amongst themselves a
magistrate, judge, and police-officer, who declared the law, imposed
fines, and awarded even bodily punishment; and if at the conclusion of
the journey any individual wished to free himself from this control, he
had to take an oath that he would not revenge himself for any annoyance
or injury he might have suffered under the ship's law; and it was the
same with pilgrimages to the Holy Land, especially where it was
question of any dangerous enterprise. For instance, when, in the year
1535, five-and-twenty men from Amberg undertook to explore the cavern
of the "awful" mountains, their first act at the entrance to the
caverns was to choose two leaders, and take an oath of obedience to
stand by one another in life or death.
The same feature is to be found amongst the artists of the middle ages:
thus did the life of individuals first find its full expression, in
association with others.
One peculiar charm which we find in the national character of those
early ages, is the union of a strong love of freedom with a spirit of
obedience. To this characteristic of the old times may be added
another. All, from the emperor to the wandering beggar, from their
birth to their death, from morning till night, were fenced in by
customs, forms, and ceremonies. A wonderful creative genius produced
endless pictures and symbols, by which everything on earth was
idealized. By these means was expressed the way in which the people
understood their relations with God, and the right direction of all
human energy; there were also many mysterious rituals which served as
means of defence against the supposed influence of unearthly powers.
Even in law mimic and figurative proceedings were laid down. Whoever
sought revenge before a court of justice for the murder of a relative,
had everything as to garments and gestures, the very words of the
accusation, and even their complaints, prescribed to them. Every
transfer of property, every investiture and contract, had its
significant forms and precise words, on which its legality depended.
The knights were summoned to the lists by the herald; the bride was
claimed and the guests invited to the wedding by fixed forms of speech;
it was considered of importance which foot was placed first on the
ground in the morning, which shoe was first put on, and what stranger
was first met on going out; also, how the bread was laid on the table
at each meal, and where the salt-cellar was placed. All that concerned
the body, the cutting of the hair, baths, and bleeding, had their
appointed time and appropriate regulations. When the agriculturist
turned up the first clod, when he brought in the last sheaf, leaving a
truss of corn in the field, in short, all the incidents of labour had
their peculiar usages; there were customs for every important day of
the year, and they abounded at every festival. Many relics of these
remain to our day; we maintain some for our amusement, but most of them
appear to us useless, senseless, and superstitious.
Many of these practices had been derived in Germany from the heathen
faith and ancient laws and customs. The Church of the middle ages
followed in the same track, idealizing life. The services became more
frequent, the ceremonials more artificial. In the same way that it had
sanctified the great epochs of life by the mystery of its sacraments,
it tried, rivalling the heathen traditions, to influence even the
trifling actions of every-day life. It consecrated fountains and
animals, and professed that it could stop the effusion of blood and
turn away the enemy's shot by its blessing. Its endeavours to make the
spiritual perceptible to the senses of the multitude, produced many
proverbs and symbolical actings, which gave rise to the dramas of the
middle ages. But whilst it thus met the imaginative tendencies of the
people, its own spiritual and moral character was injured by all these
outward observances; and when Luther accused the Church of thirty-seven
errors, from the sale of indulgences, to the consecrated salt, and the
baptism of bells with their two hundred godfathers, he was not in a
position to perceive that the old Church had given growth to these
excrescences, by having yielded too much to the imaginative disposition
of the German popular mind.
The artisans liked to reproduce the formulas of their religion and
guilds for their amusement: dialogue and gesture were interchanged, and
thus dramatic representations arose. The initiated and best informed of
every class became known by this; they had an opportunity of showing
their nature under the traditional form. In such a way every young
nation tries to represent life, and among the Germans, this
inclination, together with the love of mystery, worked most powerfully
in the same direction. It gave much opportunity for dramatic acting,
though it was a peculiarly undramatic period in the life of the people,
for words and characteristic gestures do not flow from the inward man;
they come with imposing power from external circumstances, leading,
forming, and restraining the individual.
Such union of order and discipline belongs to the epic time of the
people.
How the German mind outgrew these bonds we shall learn from the
following stories of the olden time. In the course of four centuries
the great change was accomplished--a powerful action of the mind
brought freedom in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and a fearful
political catastrophe brought destruction in the seventeenth.[3] After
a long deathlike sleep the modern spirit of the people awoke in the
eighteenth century.
PICTURES OF GERMAN LIFE.
CHAPTER I.
SCENES FROM THE HUSSITE WAR.
(about 1425.)
Among the events of the thirteenth century, the wonderfully rapid
colonization of the Sclave country east of the Elbe has never been
sufficiently appreciated. In the course of one century a numerous body
of German emigrants of all classes, almost as many as now go to
America, spread themselves over a large tract of country, established
hundreds of cities and villages, and united it for the most part firmly
to Germany. Nearly the whole of the eastern part of Prussia extends
over a portion of the territory that was thus colonized.
The time however of this outpouring of national strength was not the
heroic period of Germany. The enthusiasm of the Crusades, the splendour
of the Hohenstaufen, the short reign of German chivalry, and the
greatest elevation of German art, were at the end of the twelfth and
beginning of the thirteenth century, whereas the colonization of the
Sclave frontier was carried on with most energy towards the close of
it. This was the period when Neumark and Prussia were conquered, and
Lausitz, Mecklenburg, Pomerania, Rugen, and Silesia colonized. But
there was a striking difference in the case of Silesia; for whilst in
the other Sclave countries the people were crushed by the iron hand of
the conqueror, and were compelled to adopt German habits of life,
Silesia became the centre of a quiet, peaceful colonization, which
spread itself far and wide over, the frontier towards the east.
How powerful a passion the love of wandering became in the German
people at this period, is a point we will not attempt to enter upon.
The expeditions of the Hohenstaufens into Italy, and still more the
Crusades, had roused and excited the masses, who became restless and
eager for foreign adventure; and the life of the peaceful labourer in
Germany was full of danger, indeed almost insupportable. Pious monks,
enterprising nobles, even princely brides were to be seen knocking at
the doors of their peasantry, and trying to induce the young labourers
to follow them to Poland. But little is known concerning this
emigration; we do not even know from what province the great stream of
Silesian wanderers flowed. There are grounds for thinking that most of
them came from Magdeburg, Thuringia, and perhaps Franconia. There is no
mention of it in the ancient manuscripts or chronicles; the only
evidence concerning it might perhaps be found in the Silesian and
Thuringian dialects, but even these have not been sufficiently
investigated. We have however more knowledge as to who invited the
Germans into the country of the Oder. It was the Sclavonian dukes of
the Piasten family, who were then rulers of the country.
At the end of the twelfth century a race of ancient Polish princes
resided on their paternal inheritance in Silesia; inferior to these
were numerous Sclave nobles, and below them again a much oppressed and
enslaved people. The country was thinly populated, and poor both in
capital and labour. The heights of the Riesenberge and the plains of
the Oder were clothed with wood; between them stretched out miles of
desolate heath. Herds of wild boars laired in the swamps, bears picked
the wild honey from the hollow trunks of the trees, and the elks fed on
the branches of the pine; the beaver made its home beside the rivers,
the fish eagle hovered about the ponds, and above him soared the noble
falcon. The beaver and falcon were more valuable in the eyes of the
princes than their serfs. The peasants looked from their miserable huts
with horror on the lords of the water and air, for the preservation of
which they had to pay exorbitant penalties. What the earth yielded
freely they had to collect for their rigorous masters and the Church.
They had to pay tribute from the water and the heath of fish and honey,
and heavy imposts on their arable land, sheaves of corn, grain and
money; and a certain amount of service was required of them. The
greater part were serfs; few were free. And not only the peasants, but
also the artisans and tradesmen of all kinds lived in every gradation
of servitude, ground down by oppression without hope or pleasure in
their work. The Sclave cities only differed from the villages in being
a larger collection of bare huts, surrounded by a moat and wooden
palisades, and usually situated in the vicinity of a nobleman's castle,
under whose protection they lived. In peaceable times markets were held
in the towns. Even till the end of the twelfth century the merchants
often made their payments, as in Poland, with the tails of martins and
skins of squirrels instead of money. But the Silesian mines were
already being worked; they yielded silver and gold, copper and lead,
and mining, which was considered the nobleman's right, was carried on
actively. Mints were erected in all the great market towns, and, as in
Poland, the coinage was changed three times a year; and the princes
derived some of their income from tolls on the market-places, butchers'
stalls, and public-houses.
Such was the country that was then ruled by the royal Piasten families
under the Polish sovereignty, which, however, was often disputed, and
sometimes entirely thrown off. A great dissimilarity might however be
discerned in the different branches of the family. The Piastens of
Upper Silesia united themselves closely with Poland, and kept up the
Sclave habits in their country, so that even at the present day a
Sclave population is to be found there; but the rulers of Lower Silesia
adhered to the Germans. It was their policy to marry the daughters of
the German princes: they set the highest value upon everything German,
and German manners were introduced into the court; their children were
sent to travel in Germany, and often brought up there, so that in the
beginning of the thirteenth century, the Piasten family was held in
great consideration throughout that country; they sought for knighthood
from their relations in the west, and out of courtesy to them dressed
their followers in their colours. They knighted their own nobles with
the German straight sword, instead of using the crooked Sclave sabre;
they preferred getting drunk on malmsey and Rhine wines, instead of the
old mead. The German dances were in great request among the ladies of
the court.
In this way a numerous German nobility was established in the country,
for these courtiers or adventurers and their relations soon became
landed proprietors, and the Sclavonian institution of the Castellan was
replaced by the German feudal tenure. But an influx of priests and
monks tended still more to the promotion of German habits; a stream of
them poured incessantly from the west into the half-civilized country.
Monasteries, cloisters, and other pious establishments sprang up
rapidly, and became as it were the strongholds of German life; for the
brotherhoods of the west sent their best and most distinguished
members, and continued to furnish them with learning, books, and
spiritual energy. The princes, nobles, and clergy soon became aware of
the difference between German and Sclave labour; under the latter,
large tracts of country yielded little produce, except wood from the
forest and honey from the heath. The landed proprietors therefore, with
due regard to their own interests, introduced everywhere German labour.
Thus in Silesia the great truth first dawned upon men, on which rests
the whole system of modern life, that the labour of free men, can alone
give stability to a nation and make it powerful and prosperous. The
landed proprietors gave up the greater part of the claims which,
according to the Polish law, they had upon men who dwelt on their
property, and which were so exorbitant that they derived but little
benefit from them. The princes granted the inhabitants as a favour, the
right of founding cities and villages in accordance with German law,
that is to say, free communities, and this privilege was eagerly sought
after, especially by the ecclesiastical bodies, such as Cistertians,
Augustines, &c.
A regular method was pursued in founding these communities; but the
fate of the villages was very different from that of the cities in the
latter part of the middle ages. In the cities, as the body politic
continually gained fresh strength, their rights and independence
increased; the burgesses acquired by purchase the mayoralty, with its
rights and jurisdiction; whilst, on the other hand, the villages were
unable to protect themselves from the exactions of the landed
proprietors and the burdens laid upon them by their princes; they lost
much of their freedom, and many rights they had possessed at their
foundation in the thirteenth century were only restored to them in the
beginning of this present one.
It was thus that after the beginning of the thirteenth century a new
German race sprang up with a surprising rapidity, bordering on the
Oder, between the Reisenberge and the plains of Poland. The emigration
continued for a considerable period, and the quiet struggle between the
German and Polish races lasted long after the former had gained the
predominance; indeed, in some districts it has not yet ceased. But for
the most part the pliant Sclave race of Silesia peaceably adopted the
new customs, as it was very advantageous to put themselves under German
law. And thus the new race showed in its dialect, manners, and
education a new phase of the German popular character which one may
perceive has arisen from the union of the German and Sclave races.
The people who thus sprang up were not destined to an easy life, and it
required all the excitability they derived from the Sclaves, together
with the higher capacity they inherited from the Germans, to preserve
them from annihilation. Driven in like a wedge between Bohemia and
Poland quite to the vicinity of Hungary, they contended with all these
nations, dispensing blows and receiving them from their stronger
neighbours. They were never able to attain to the independence of a
united people. However strong particular communities and confederations
became when it was a question of external enemies, the Silesians were
almost always divided.
In the fifteenth century the country was visited by that terrible
scourge the Hussite war. It is in that fearful time, when the fanatical
warriors of the chalice burnt the Silesian villages and cloisters, and
threw everything ecclesiastical into the flames, when the land was
devastated for nearly a century by the horrors of war, that the
peculiar Silesian character may be traced in contradistinction to that
of the races dwelling in the adjoining country.
Whilst in the regions adjoining the Oder, and still farther off by the
shores of the Baltic, the German race, proud of their recent conquest
over the Sclaves, desired to improve themselves by union with Germany,
a great Sclave population had arisen in the middle of the German
states, the toughest and most stable of all that family: it was firmly
incorporated in the Empire, and had long been under the influence of
German culture. Prague in the beginning of the fifteenth century might
have passed for a German city, for not only in its laws and commerce,
but also in science and art it exhibited all the vigour and
independence of German life. About 1289 the King of Bohemia rode as a
German elector to the election of the Emperor, and waved the golden
glass at the coronation; the Bohemian minstrels and chroniclers wrote
in the Swabian language and style, and Bohemian artists painted
pictures of saints and windows for the German churches. Under the
Luxemburgers Bohemia became the centre of the empire. The Bohemian
throne was adorned with the German Imperial eagle and crown, and the
flower of Germany's youth flocked to the many-turreted Moldavian city,
in order to win in the first German university a nobler patent of
nobility than the sword could give. It seemed then for a considerable
period as if this fine compact Sclave country, lying with its mountain
ramparts in the midst of Germany like a gigantic fortress, was likely
to become the kernel of a great united empire, spreading far beyond the
Rhine on the west, and to the Vistula on the east, or even perhaps to
the swamps of the Theis. But just at this time an energetic reaction of
Sclave popular feeling was roused in Bohemia against the Germans, and a
long struggle ensued which fearfully shook the political, religious,
and social life of Germany, rent the unity of the Roman Catholic
Church, weakened the empire and threw it into confusion, depopulated
large districts by a war full of cruelty, and amidst the flames of
burning cities and the waning of millions, gave the death-blow to the
Holy Roman Empire of the middle ages. It was the peculiar destiny of
Germany that this great struggle should first break out among the
teachers and scholars in the halls of the universities, and that the
funeral pile of a Bohemian professor should give a new direction to the
policy of German princes and people.
The auto-da-fe of Huss did not appear to the Germans a very striking or
blamable occurrence; people in those days were hastily condemned to
death, and there hardly passed a year that the torch was not laid to
the stake in every large city. However great the grief and indignation
of the national party of Bohemia might be at these proceedings, the
wild fanaticism of the people was first roused by another, and greater
crime of the reckless Emperor Sigismund, who, at the head of the
orthodox German fanatics, began the strife by the great massacre in
1420; this outrage gave the Bohemians the strength of despair, and was
the beginning of the wars which raged between the Germans and the
Sclaves to the end of that century. Even after dissensions had broken
out amongst the Bohemians themselves, and after the death of Georg von
Podiebrad, feuds continued, and predatory bands spread themselves over
the neighbouring lands, the people and nobility of Bohemia as well as
those of the suffering frontier lands became lawless, and a hatred of
races, less passionate but more savage and more enduring, took the
place of fanaticism.
No land suffered more from the terrors of the Hussite time than
Silesia, and it must be confessed that the Silesians showed to less
advantage in this century than at any other period of their history; by
the division of their country they were politically weak, and quite
unfitted to withstand by their own strength the attacks of powerful
enemies; when danger approached a feeling of the helplessness of their
position came over them and disheartened them; but whenever they could
breathe more freely, they became overbearing and full of high-flown
plans which generally ended in nothing. As neighbours they were bitter
enemies of the Bohemians, and from hatred to them, zealous in their
orthodoxy; they were actively engaged in the first disgraceful
devastation of Bohemia, and thus, by breach of faith, brought down on
themselves the vengeance of the Bohemians. As in the Roman time the
truth of a Carthaginian was a byword, so now in Silesia was that of a
Bohemian; but the Silesians had no right to reproach the Bohemians with
breach of faith. Their dangerous position did not make them more
careful, and they allowed their possessions and cities to be destroyed
from the want of timely succour; they were always irritating their
enemies and causing fresh attacks by their insolent witticisms and
small perfidies. Their vigour and elasticity, however, were most
enduring; as often as the Bohemians burnt down their cities and
villages, they rebuilt them, and patched up whatever would hold
together; they never tired of irritating the heretical Girsik, as they
called Georg von Podiebrad.[4] If, however, they were in need of his
assistance, they tried to appease him by a present of a hundred oxen.
After a time, however, their hatred became more manly; they took up
arms and fought him valiantly; and when at last he sank into the grave,
they had the satisfaction of feeling that they had embittered the life
and thwarted the ambitious plans of this determined character by their
perpetual opposition.
It is the beginning of this unhappy period which is described in the
following narrative. It is taken from the report of a merchant in
Bolkenhain,[5] named Martin, the fragment of his notes which we
possess, published by Heinrick Hoffman (in Scriptores rerum Lusaticarum
I., 1839).
"In the year of our Lord 1425, the Hussites appeared one Saturday
evening before the town of Wuenschelburg. On Sunday, about the time of
vespers, they made breaches in the walls, and by their overwhelming
force gained an entrance. The people flew to the house of the mayor,[6]
which was a high stone building. When all the men and women had arrived
there, they set fire to the city from the mayor's house, and thought
thereby to save themselves; but the Bohemians waited till the fire had
burnt out, then rushed in a powerful body against the stone house,
endeavouring to storm and undermine it. Then followed a parley: the
mayor let himself down to the Hussites by means of a coarse tilt,[7]
that he might negotiate with them whether the citizens should be
allowed to go free. He was so long absent in the town that the people
began greatly to fear, especially the pastor of the town, who was
godfather to the mayor; he called out to them, asking whether the mayor
was still below, requiring him to show and report himself, and come
back to them; whereupon the mayor returned to the house and was again
drawn up. When he had come up, his godfather the pastor asked how it
had gone with him, and whether he had obtained from the enemy freedom
for himself and his chaplain. Then spake the mayor: 'No, godfather;
they give no mercy to priests!' Then the pastor and his chaplain were
sore troubled, and said, 'How miserably you abandon and betray me, be
God Almighty your judge. When aforetime I wished to fly, you bade me
remain with you, saying you would abide by me for good or for evil,
even unto death; and you said, Shall the shepherd fly from his sheep?
And now, alack, evil is the day, the sheep fly from the shepherd.' Then
spake the women and the citizens' wives to him, weeping, 'We will
disguise you and your chaplains, and will bring you down with us
safely.' Then spoke the pastor Herr Megerlein, 'That, please God, will
I never do. I must not disavow my office and dignity, for I am a priest
and not a woman; but look to it well, you men; see in what a pitiful
way you deliver me over to death to save yourselves.' No one heeded
these complaints; but the two chaplains allowed themselves to be
disguised, and carried children on their shoulders--not so the pastor.
"Whilst they thus held converse together, the mayor agreed with the
citizens on what terms they would surrender. They then went down, one
after the other, and the Bohemians and Hussites were there in front of
the building, and made prisoners of them all; they allowed only the
women and children to go free. But many of the women, maidens, and
children had been in such fear that they had taken refuge in the
cellars; so when the fire reached them they were suffocated and
perished. Now when all in the house had surrendered, there remained
only the pastor, with a few journeymen and artisans who had been unable
to purchase their liberty, and who feared death and imprisonment; these
the pastor exhorted as follows: 'Dear companions, look well after your
necks, and be firm, for if they make you prisoners they will torment
and martyrize you.' Then they replied they would do as he advised. But
when they saw that the citizens had all surrendered, great fear came
over them, and they went down and submitted themselves; but the pastor
remained there with an old village priest to the last. Then the
Hussites went up to them and brought them down, and led them into the
midst of the army and the multitude. Then Master Ambrosius, a heretic
of Graetz, being present, spoke to these gentlemen in Latin: 'Pastor,
wilt thou gainsay and retract what thou hast preached? thus thou mayst
preserve thy life; but if thou wilt not do this, thou must be burnt.'
Then answered Herr Megerlein the pastor, and said, 'God forbid that I
should deny the truth of our holy Christian faith on account of this
short pain. I have taught and preached the truth at Prague, at Goerlitz,
and at Graetz,[8] and for this truth will I gladly die.' Then one of
them ran and fetched a truss of straw, which they bound round about his
body so that he could not be seen; they then set fire to the straw, and
made him, thus surrounded by flames, run and dance about in the midst
of the multitude, till he was suffocated. Then they took him as a
corpse and threw him into a brewer's vat of boiling water; they also
threw in the old village priest, and let them boil therein; thus they
were both martyred; but the two chaplains of whom I have before spoken,
came out with the women concealed in women's clothes, and the child
that one of these priests bore on his arm began to weep and to cry
after its mother, and the priest tried to comfort and quiet it. So the
Hussites discovered by the voice that it was a man, and one of them
took the veil off him; then he let fall the child, took to flight, and
ran with all his might; they followed after and killed him. The other
came away with the women and children. This happened at Wuenschelburg.
"1429. Soon after this the Hussites returned home, but remained there
scarcely six weeks; they called out for another campaign, collected
again in great strength, and passed into the land of Meissen. The
Meisseners, however, were strong in the field, with others such as
Brunswickers, Saxons, and people from the marshes, also some from the
Imperial cities. The Hussites entered the country with fire and sword,
killing and taking prisoners and living lawlessly. Now when the
Hussites had advanced to where a large army of Meisseners and people
from the Imperial cities were collected together, they encamped
opposite to them, and threw up a barricade of waggons. When the armies
were thus lying opposite each other they exchanged letters. The
Meisseners wrote thus:--'Oh! you apostates from the faith, and cursed
heretics, we shall, God willing, fight you to-morrow, and make you food
for the dogs.' To which the Hussites thus replied:--'Oh! you hounds,
we shall, God willing, make you food for the dogs, only wait for us
to-morrow.' When it was still quite early on the following morning, the
Hussites prepared themselves for the fight; they first heard mass, than
ate and drank their fill, and when they moved forward to begin the
fight, they received intelligence that the Meisseners had fled. When
they heard this, they hastened onward and chased them two whole days.
When they found they could not catch them, they deliberated, and
dividing themselves spread all over the country, burning, killing, and
making prisoners, and entering the towns from which the people had
retired.
"1443. The country armed and prepared itself, and raised a troop of
four hundred horse. It was known that the Bohemians and Hussites
intended making an inroad upon the country, therefore the States
encamped themselves some miles from Schweidnitz by Boegendorf, in order
to watch the enemy, as they knew not at what point they would enter.
But Hein von Czirnan had a presentiment that they would come to
Bolkenhain (where he had settled), as did indeed happen; therefore he
sent a horseman in all haste to Bolkenhain, to inform the burgomaster,
and beg him to set a strong and vigilant watch, as he had certain
intelligence that the enemy would enter the country in that quarter.
The burgomaster sent warning to the villagers, but Hein von Czirnan's
messenger arriving only in the evening, the watch not being well
established in the city, the enemy appeared on the walls at the dawn of
morning; for they had approached the city early in the evening and
concealed themselves behind the hills and among the rocks, and had in
the night quite at their leisure prepared ladders. The ladders were
short, each of four rundles, so that four of these ladders could hardly
reach up the wall; but the first piece of ladder had in front a little
wheel; when this was placed, not being fixed, it advanced up the wall.
The other ladders were so contrived that one fitted into the other, and
fastened together by an iron band. With such cunning and malice had
they so early set to work against us. They had placed these same
ladders in the night by the walls where the city and hill were highest,
the ladders were so broad and wide that two of the enemy could mount at
a time. As now at daybreak they had placed many of the ladders, they
began to ascend four at once, but when they arrived at the top of the
wall they found no passage on it towards the city, and were obliged for
some distance to slide and creep along till they came to a watch-house,
where they found some steps; so, alas! they came upon us in the city.
And when in this way many of them had assembled, they began to cry and
to holloa out most terribly, like devils. This took place the last
Thursday before Bartlemy-tide. When we heard this terrible noise and
tumult, we were woefully frightened, and every one that was able fled
to the towers of the gate, church, or any other tower that was
accessible; but we could not get into the stronghold, as the enemy had
surrounded it, and whoever attempted to enter it was slain. As the
people of the city thus concealed themselves, the Hussites went in
great troops about the town; some rushed to the churches, others to the
best houses; about eight came to my house and forced themselves up into
the shop, and placed two of their number with naked swords at the door,
and let no one enter the house till they had plundered and divided the
whole of my shop and goods. My wife was at that time in the midst of
her confinement, God be merciful to her, and she had in her room many
valuable things, such as her bed-linen and her clothes; they treated
her however with such respect, that no one entered her room. But two of
them who were well known to her, and to whom she had shown great
kindness, went to the door of her room, told her how they pitied her,
and brought her secretly a coverlet and bed-cover, and said, 'Good
woman, they will soon set fire to the city, therefore lose no time in
being carried to the cellar with all that you desire to save, for we
shall be off immediately.' When they had pillaged all the houses they
would gladly have left the town, but could not, for the inhabitants who
had taken refuge in the towers and gate-houses, threw down stones upon
them, so that they could not pass through the gates, however much they
wished it. At last they found an old gate which for many years had been
walled up; this they broke open, and carried through it all their
plunder, with which they loaded their waggons, and intended to return
to Bohemia; they fired the city, and marched off to Landshut. When the
troops of the provincial states assembled at Boegendorf beheld such a
great smoke and fire, they said to one another, 'It is indeed at
Bolkenhain, or in its neighbourhood;' then they started off at full
speed for Landshut, and overtook their enemies. When therefore the
Bohemians and Hussites began to retrace their steps, they perceived a
great host of our town-people coming towards them over the Galgenberg;
so they in great fear took to flight. Then our people fell upon them,
and the men who had charge of the waggons loaded with our goods,
abandoned them and fled for refuge into the woods; thus we deprived
them of their plunder, and made many prisoners, both horse and foot,
who were distributed among the cities."--So writes Martin of
Bolkenhain.
This endless war ruined German Silesia: the plains lay waste and
desolate, and most of the German peasantry in this century of fire and
sword sank into a state little removed from that of the Sclave serfs.
The smaller cities were burnt down and impoverished, and only a few of
the larger ones have since attained any degree of importance. The
Silesian nobles became rude and predatory; they learnt from the
Bohemians to steal cattle, to seize merchants and traders, and to levy
contributions on the cities. The princes in their endless disputes with
one another allied themselves sometimes with the Bohemians, and shared
their booty with them; indeed, some of them took pleasure in a wild
robber life, carrying it on even in their own country. These deeds of
violence and lamentable struggles continued quite into the sixteenth
century, till the Reformation gave a new bent to this lively and
impressible race, and brought with it new sufferings.
Through all these times the Silesians retained their love of orderly
arrangements, even in the most desperate situations. When, for example,
in the year 1488, Duke Hans of Sagen, one of the lawless characters who
figured in the border wars, imprisoned seven honourable counsellors of
his own city, Glogau, in a tower, and starved them to death because
they had refused to act contrary to a solemn engagement; these seven
martyrs, in a truly German manner, punctually and conscientiously kept
a diary of their sufferings, and left in writing, prayers to the
Almighty for mercy and a happy death; but it is a truly Silesian and
almost modern trait, that the writer of this fearful journal had a
certain gloomy pleasure in reflecting on his painful fate, and in the
last lines he wrote before his death, he endeavoured to depict the
destitution of his situation by mentioning that he had been obliged to
use the black of the burnt wick as ink.[9]
In the century of the reformation, the Silesians, as might be expected
of a people of such quick susceptibilities, were for the most part
zealous for the new teaching. They had been bound by strong ties to the
old Church, like most of the other races; for it was partly at the call
of the Church that their ancestors had come into that country;
notwithstanding which, almost the whole people freed themselves from
Rome, and manfully ventured life and property for their convictions.
And most severely was their constancy tried; for the supreme power,
which had been in Polish and Bohemian hands, had now fallen into those
of the House of Austria.[10] Of all the countries under the power of
the House of Hapsburg, Silesia is the only one which did not make a
sacrifice of the new faith to the iron hand of reaction, but maintained
a desperate resistance even into the eighteenth century. These were
indeed two most unhappy centuries; the Thirty years' war laid the
country waste, and not a third part of the former population escaped
from the brutality of the soldiers, or from pestilence, or famine. But
just at this time, when the whole of Germany had become one vast
burial-ground, in which not even the loud wail of sorrow was heard, the
genius of Silesia, as the representative of Germany, entered on the
only domain in which advance was possible. Whilst they were still
exchanging blows with the Imperial soldiers, they took pleasure in
poetry and songs. Already the delicate and polished writings of the
vapid Opitz gave pleasure amidst the coarse language of the camp; but
truly refreshing to the heart was the short; humorous laugh of Logau,
at a period when nothing was to be seen save sad or angry faces. The
whole of the educated Silesians were eager to sympathize with Opitz,
Logau, Gryphius, and Guenther, and to vie with them in making heroic
verses. Their songs have few charms for us, but we must always feel
thankful to them that they had the power of giving expression to the
ideal feelings of Germany. It was a great thing to be able to show at
such a time, when the coarse and the commonplace overlaid the German
life, that there was still something beautiful on earth, and a more
intellectual enjoyment than could be found in dissolute revelry, and
also that behind the grey and colourless sky which overspread the land,
there was another world, full of brilliant colours, and of nobler and
more refined feelings.
But whilst the songs of the Silesian "Swans and Nightingales" were held
in honour by the other German races, and the fame of the Silesian poets
rose high, the worldly position of the Silesians themselves was
lamentable. The Thirty years' war was followed by a century of
persecution and oppression, which so diminished their energies, that at
last it appeared as if they would fall into the same condition as that
in which they had found the Sclaves,--a death-like apathy, and a future
without hope. The Silesians never became utterly downcast, for they
took every opportunity of enjoying themselves, but it was only in
feasting and revelry. When, however, the misery of the country was at
the highest, the Prussian drum sounded on the frontier from Muencheberg,
and the trumpets of the Ziethen hussars pealed along the same roads on
which five hundred years before the first song of the German colonists
had resounded with the good words, "We come in God's name."
The Germanizing of the country was not thoroughly accomplished till it
was conquered by Prussia; it is only since that time that the Silesians
have become conscious of being an integral part of the German nation.
What was begun by the Sclave Piastens of the thirteenth, was concluded
by the German Hohenzollern of the eighteenth, century.