France lay in the Communism which he Lord Lansdowne made a calm and approso hated for its narrowness and grossness. priate statement, more remarkable for On his deathbed, in 1856, “the Child of good sense than brilliancy. Lord Grey the French Revolution” (as he often calls “excelled the rest in dignity of manner, a himself) cried aloud in agony of spirit: thing which English orators, almost with"It is all of no use; the future belongs to out exception either neglect or cannot our enemies the Communists, and Louis acquire." Napoleon is their John the Baptist." The Professor Silliman, from Boston, gives saying that “The Englishman loves lib- good portraits of Pitt and Fox as he saw erty like his lawful wife, the Frenchman them in the House in 1805. He describes loves her like his mistress, the German Pitt thus : “In his person he is tall and loves her like his old grandmother,” is spare; he has small limbs, with large well known, but before quitting Heine knees and feet; his features are sharp ; (always a topic of singular attraction) his bis nose large, pointed, and turning up; amplification of this must not be omitted; his complexion sanguine; his voice deepit is so true, and at the same time shows toned and commanding, yet sweet and his mixed vein of malice and poetry to perfectly well modulated ; and his whole perfection. He says: “And yet, after all, presence, notwithstanding the want of no one can even tell how things may fall symmetry in his limbs, is, when he rises out. The grumpy Englishman, in an ill. to speak, full of superiority and conscious temper with his wife, is capable of some dignity. Fox's manner is flowing, day putting a rope round her neck, and easy, and natural, but without the dignity taking her to be sold at Smithfield. The and impressiveness of Pitt. He stood inconstant Frenchman may become un leaning forward, as if going up hill, and faithful to his adored mistress, and be his fists were clenched and thrust into his seen fluttering about the Palais Royal waistcoat pockets,” etc. Moritz, a Gerafter another. But the German will never man gentleman who travelled on foot in quite abandon his old grandmother; he England in 1782, says he preferred the en. will always keep for her a nook by the tertainment to be met with at the Houses chimney-corner, where she can tell her of Parliament “ to most other amusefairy-stories to the listening children.” ments.” He was much struck at seeing

All our visitors interested in politics “ the whole of the British nation assemhave something to say of the House of bled in its representatives," although in Commons, which is a source of unfailing " rather a mean looking building that not comment, and they generally describe the a little resembles a chapel. The members appearance of the leading politicians of the of the House of Commons have nothing day. Prince Pückler-Muskau was present particular in their dress; they even come in the House at a debate during the min-into the House in their great coats, and isterial crisis of 1827. He says Brougham with boots and spurs. It is not at all unmight be compared in debate to a " dex- common to see a member lying stretched terous and elegant boxer; Canning pre- out on one of the benches while others sented the image of a finished, antique are debating. Some crack nuts, others gladiator. All was noble, refined, simple; eat oranges or whatever else is in season, then suddenly, at one splendid point, his etc. One sometimes sees one member eloquence burst forth like lightning, grand speaking and another accompanying the and all.subduing.' The next day the speech with his actions. This I remarked prince heard and saw the Duke of Wel. more than once in a worthy old citizen, lington in the House of Lords, and says: who was afraid of speaking himself, but “He is no orator, and was compelled bon when his neighbor spoke he accompanied gré mal gré to enter upon his defence every energetic sentence with a suitable like an accused person. There was gesticulation, by which means his whole something touching to me in seeing the body was sometimes in motion." hero of this century in so subdued a situa. The women of England receive even tion." However, the duke brings his more admiring comments from our stran. speech to a tolerably successful conclu- ger visitors than the British Constitution sion, amid his supporters' ringing cheers. itself; it would make a study apart to reThen the other ministers rise to apologize cord all the varying tributes to the charms for resigning. Old Lord Eldon weeps of our countrywomen. Perhaps the quaintcopiously, but produces no similar emotion est commendation is that of Dr. Gemelli in bis auditors. Lord Holland was sharp Careri (an Italian gentleman), who was and striking ; Lord King showed a great in England in 1686. He says: “The deal of wit, not always in the best taste ; I women are very beautiful and genteel and

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courteous of behavior, being, in short, no time to tend it, and so we laboring-folk looked upon as one of the valuable things took it in hand and reared it for our own. which England affords, which are

We are gradually, in this nineteenth cenAnglia mons, pons, fons, Ecclesia, fæmina, tury, coming to discover what wealth of lana.

natural color and scent there is in these

gnarled and knotted giants of the primeval Add to this commendation that they do forests, and what potent music the wind whatsoever they please, and do so gener can wake in their branches. In other ally wear the breeches (as we use to say), words, we have perceived that no consid. that it is now become a proverb that En- erable mass of people can grow up and gland is the hell of horses and the paradise grow on for generations, earning its bread of women; and if there were a bridge by daily but not brutalizing labor, and from the island to the Continent, all the sweetening its labor in due measure with women in Europe would run thither."

laughter and love, without developing in its midst germs of poetry which it is a loss to literature to ignore, but which can only be expressed with full effect in its own

language. This we take to be the final From Macmillan's Magazine.

Much, inTHE FATHER OF LOW GERMAN POETRY. justification of dialect poetry.

deed, which goes or has gone by that " I DECLINE to recommend your book; name does not deserve it in this sense. it is its own recommendation. It will The scenes of clown and boor in dialect make an oasis in the desert.” So wrote scattered through the genial dramatists the foremost critic and literary historian from Aristophanes onward, which merely in Germany, one who never flattered and exploit the ludicrous effect of an uncouth who had lately lost his professorial chair speech, are not dialect poetry. Nor, on as the price of telling his king the truth, the other hand, are learned transpositions

so wrote, in 1852, Gervinus to a young into dialect of forms and scenery essenand unknown writer who had sent him his tially alien and remote. Even Allan Rambook with a request for some commenda. say, charming as he is, remembers the tory words. The book came from a lonely elegant artificialities of the pastoral rather island in the Baltic, and bore the felici- too well. We read our “ Pope in worsted tously daring title of “Quickborn” (run- stockings," also, with esteem ; but heaven ning spring); but its chief singularity preserve us from Pope in a blouse ! lay in its being written in a tongue which, From both these errors the creator of though familiarly used along the entire Platt-Deutsch, or Low German, poetry, seaboard of the German Baltic and North like his forerunner Burns and his contem. Sea, was as strange to verse, almost 10 porary Barnes, was preserved ; from the print, as the finger-counting of a rustic first by natural bent, from the second by huckster to the honors of symbolic nota. prolonged and concentrated toil. Klaus tion.

Groth, whose seventieth birthday has To-day in the presence of the various lately been celebrated all over Germany, achievement of Groth and Reuter, we

was born in 1819 near Heide — the little have no difficulty in seeing the signifi- provincial capital of western Holstein — cance of that long literary atrophy of the in his father's windmill; a strange, romanLow German speech to which “ Quick- tic sort of dwelling, “ fit nurse for a poetic born put an end. In Reuter's pretty child.” A boyhood outwardly uneventful, idyll, “ Hanne Nüte,” its story is told by but full of ingathered impressions which the help of a picturesque fable.

later on gave its strange intensity of emoI know an oak by the North-sea strand, tional tone to his landscape.painting, full

Through its boughs the North-wind rages, also of strenuous discipline in various Proudly it lifts its crown in the air;

fields of learning, led him in 1842 to enter It has stood for a score of ages:

upon the critical work of his life. “ There By no human hand

still lives here,” he says in a private letter Was it planted there,

from his home near Kiel to the present And it spreads from Pommern to Netherland. writer, “a schoolmaster to whom, as a The king and queen hear of this marvel. student, I confided my still unformed lous tree and go down to the shore to see plans. It needed ten years more, five of it. " Who has tended it that it grows so them spent on the lonely island of Fehfinely?” they ask. And a young fellow marn, before the first fruits were ripe ; steps forward : “ Sir king, it owes little to ten years of wearing labor, the secret toil you or your queen. The great people had / of an alchemist, for I should have been thrown into a madhouse if any one had told us is the world of Burns. But he had suspected what I was at.” Such was the to do with a people, somewhat unostentime in which appeared the work prophe. tatious and reserved certainly, holding its sied by Gervinus to have the effect of an powers somewhat in the background, yet oasis in the desert. And the prophecy nevertheless possessing a wealth both of was just. Before long all Holstein was practical energy and of imaginative power singing his songs and telling his tales. which have filled its history with stirring

Groth's gift to his countrymen in records, its folk-lore with dreamy mythol. " Quickborn” may fairly be called unique. ogy, and its homes with the irrepressible Neither Barnes nor Burns (to repeat the arabesques of the amateur wood-carver. too alliterative formula which it is difficult And he had the still, vast landscape of in this connection to escape) has reflected Holstein, with its boundless reaches of the whole life of a country-side, present golden corn-land and sandy heath, and of and past, with at once so comprehensive pastures scented with flower and honey; and so subtle an eye for the poetry of with its horizon so far and so level that common occupations, for the gleams of you see the blue sky right down to it on fine coloring which lurk among the grays all sides, while miles away along the white and russets of a homely folk of farmers road that stretches like a gleaming thread and fishers. Barnes, with all his exquisite from you to it, you will detect the horseand loving portraiture of the dear Dorset. man who passed you half an hour ago and sbire be knew, and with all his kindly en- the church tower whose bells you no thusiasm for its traditions and antiquities, longer hear. A flock of larks rises up as a poet wholly ignores its past. The like a chorus close at hand. By the stiil poetry of that past resides for him, not in pool, a little further, a stork meditatively the great deeds of Alfred nor in the trag. watches for his prey. The vast shadows edy of that Bloody Assize which Jeffreys of the clouds speed over the plain, subopened in the scarlet-hung court of Dór- duing for a moment the dazzling lustre of chester, but in the Anglo-Saxon grammar the fields of rape, and turning from silver and the curious cultivation of its quaint to gray the wings of the wild geese that and old-world terms. Burns, on the other sail in unsteady procession overhead. And hand, a poet of impulse if ever there was if you follow their flight westward, you one, but wholly devoid of constructive will probably perceive a thin line of shimpower, ignores with rare exceptions what- mering light along the horizon, where the ever cannot be flashed upon the mind with North Sea lurks insidiously behind its the sudden brevity of a lyric, — the ele. rampart of sandy shallows. ment of story in fact, the gradual changes Such a landscape has its own subtle of outward circumstance and inward emo- charm which never loses its hold upon tion which make up a story as distin. those who have grown up in it. The born guished from a mere anecdote. Barnes, Marsh-man clings to it with passionate in a word, and speaking broadly, has no tenacity, and “even in Paradise,” says ballads; Burns has no tales. But some Groth, as would never lose the oppressive of Groth's finest and most memorable longing for its melancholy splendor.”. It work belongs to these two classes; and he has also terrible and unforeseen capacities is in some, no doubt a much smaller meas of its own as a gathering-ground of history ure, not only the Barnes and the Burns of and legend. War in these flat regions has Holstein, but its Walter Scott also. little of the romance and adventure which

It might appear that the poet of the flat, belong to it in a country of cliff and crag, undistinguished North Sea marshes had full of rocky fastnesses for refuge and intrinsically much the most difficult task lonely dells for ambush. But it has the of the three. The lovely, undulating wood. stern tragedy of a struggle which, just belands of our south coast, with their steep cause no refuge is possible, is fought out slopes of green down and intervening desperately to the bitter end. Its inci. glimpses of glittering sea, were not for dents are not picturesquely varied, but him; nor yet the sweep of the high Scotch brief, sudden, intense ; the smooth canvas moorland with its mountain-torrents and lends itself little to the play of light and glinting birch-glens. He had not to do shade, but gathers the color into blotches with a people cast either in the mould of and pools which add to the force if not the idyllic, if somewhat sleepy, rusticity exactly to the pleasantness of the picture. of Dorset, or in that of the more drastic | The sea, too, as on every coast where the and sharp-featured world of Scotch reli- sands are wide and shallow and the tides gion, Scotch drink, and Scotch manners," swift, has contributed many a mysterious which Mr. Arnold has, summarily enough, I story to the legends of the country-side.

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You may hear there, as on other such | The Dittmarschen yeomen had ruddy gold shores, of village girls carried off by mer

laid by, men, and mermaids wedded to villagers ; The Dittmarschen yeomen, they held their

heads so high! of drowned men who neither died nor lived, conscious only of a dreamy longing "What lies along the Hamme so pale and so to return; of poor pebble-seekers by the red ? strand, drawn into the sea by a mysterious Three hundred knights of Holstein in their compulsion as though a voice called them bloody bed. and they had to go, and never returning to The Dittmarschen yeomen that day they wife and children.

taught the lords, Among the finest parts of “Quickborn

- They have gold in their coffers, — and iron in

their swords. are those in which such history or legend as this is retold in unadorned yet thrilling “What moves along the Hamme so wan and verse as, for instance, in “From the old

so white?Chronicle," and in “ Cottage Tales” (Wat Three hundred Holstein ladies to the burial. sik dat Volk vertellt). The fate of the

rite. buried city of old Büsum, for instance, is The Dittmarschen yeomen on the Hamme more impressive in the reticent brevity of

stood that day! Groth's few stanzas than in the most de- | And God's curse upon the nobles when they

ride again this way! tailed narrative.

This was not the only instance of a Old Büsum lies below the wave,

crushing defeat inflicted by these sturdy The waters came and scooped its grave.

peasants upon the northern chivalry. The They scooped and scoured, they crawled and battle of Hellingsted a century later was a crept,

still more significant triumph. But the The island to the deep they swept.

sixteenth century here as elsewhere in

Germany brought with it the close of Never a stick nor straw was found;

these prolonged and fruitless feuds, and All buried in the gulf profound.

in a manner disastrous and humiliating

for the peasantry. Forced in a last deci. Nor any kine, nor dog, nor sheep; All swailowed in the deepest deep.

sive battle, in which all their leaders per.

ished, to succumb, the miserable remnant Whatever lived and loved the light,

laid down their arms and passed into the The sea locks in eternal night.

condition of serfs. This pathetic moment

in the history of his country has been Sometimes at lowest ebb you see

recorded by Groth in his poem of “ The The tops of houses in the sea.

Last Feud.” But, after all, only a frag.

ment of Groth's work is devoted to these Then peers the steeple from the sand

battles long ago; " indeed the very con. Like to the finger of a hand.

ception of his stirring ballads was an Then are the bells heard softly ringing

afterthought and due to a felicitous hint And the choristers softly singing;

from his great friend Müllenhoff. He is

at heart the singer of the “familiar matAnd it is whispered o’er the deep:

ters of to-day, which have been and shall “ Suffer the buried dead to sleep!

be again.” Now in brief snatches of lyric

verse, now in sustained and flexible narNor would it be easy to surpass the terri. rative, he tells us whatever is moving or ble intensity of the lines which tell how piquant in the unwritten chronicle of the the Marsh peasants avenged an incursion country-side, or in that subtler volume of Holstein nobles, an incident in the in which writes itself in the memory of an terminable feuds of the fifteenth century. I observant poet. The tale of the stone at The Hamme, it should be explained, is Schalkholt

, for instance, the worn inscripa kind of fortified pass on the road from tion on which records how two brothers Dittmarsch to Holstein proper, where it were rivals for the hand of the same girl,

narrow, stone-paved track the trimmest in the parish. " What's through thick woods with deep trenches amiss, brother?” asked one, as they met on each side.

On August 4th, 1404, Duke one morning; "you look so melancholy. Gerhard suddenly seized this pass.

Cheer up and put your best clothes on to: “What moves along the Harme so red and morrow, for I am coming with my bride." so white ?"

“ To-morrow I have no time, I must be Three hundred knights of Holstein, ready away to the heath, else the wolf will make and ripe for fight.

off with one of my flock.” Tomorrow


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came, and the newly engaged brother was neat-handed skill, for he cares little for found shot dead on the spot where the drink, makes and mends his own coats, stone was afterwards raised to his memory. and never runs after the girls. Anton, his Or the tale of the girl who flies from her master's son, is his devoted friend. Seven home in the Marsh-land with her sailor- years passed by, and then one day the lover, carried off in the grey of early morn-military inspector made his rounds, and ing trembling with fear and with love, Anton and Peter were required to present while he is all exultation and triumph :- themselves as recruits. To the amazeMy boat is in the harbor,

ment of the whole family the douce and My ship is by the strand,

canny Peter burst into a storm of tears And my true love is in my arms — and passionately refused to go. ... The Good-bye, my fatherland 1

next morning the whole village knew that

their Peter was a girl, and they rapidly Or the Organ-player,” — the defiant

discovered that they had always suspected young scapegrace over whose unregenerate boyhood the village gossips had as much., The new Anna soon turned prophesied evil and the schoolmaster lost everybody's head, and her old comrade

Anton above all followed her everywhere sells his inheritance, patience — who Hashes out in momentary splendor with about, complaining, only of her girlish the proceeds, and then, when all is gone, be a butterfly among the rustic grubs ?”

care for her long locks; “Why should she takes to the portable organ and bears through Europe the pageant of his still But the end of the butterfly was sad so defiant high spirits :

sad that the poet can scarcely bring him

self to hint it, so intolerable does he feel What care I for the mouldy pack! the discord to be. Anna murdered her I've all my music on my back,

child, and it was at the foot of the lonely I sing my song and have my crack,

gallows tree on the moor, and by the And turn my organ round !

hangman's hand, as the German custom A page or two further, and we hear, in is, that the long locks were at length cut subtle contrast with these rollicking stan- off. The hint is enough, and the poet, zas, the pathetic wail of the “Old Harp: who feels too keenly to describe it, is too player,” who has seen her youth and human to point it with any other moral beauty go by, and as she crawls with her than, “Oh, the pity of it!" melancholy music from house to house And human he remains even when he shivering with cold and ague, recalls, like enters the less tragic but more oppres. Villon's La Belle Heaulmière, the days sive atmosphere of the alms-house, — the when she sang, a rosy-cheeked girl, for tedious last chapter of so many a miser. very joy of heart, never dreaming of pov- able story, with nothing wanting but the erty and death. Verses of extreme sim sententious epigram of the moralist and plicity, these, which in any cultured and the finis of death. Long before Groth, artificial speech would seem bald with George Crabbe had drawn its image in their plaintive repetitions, their lingering “ The Borough ” with the merciless fidelity emphasis upon the same thought, but of a prose Dante. His Blaney and Clelia which in the homely folk-speech pierce and the rest are not so much studies in life like a natural cry. A yet sterner aspect as shocking examples, paraded with sol. of poverty meets us in the powerful sketch, emn, though perfectly sincere, unction for “Peter Plumm.” A young girl, Anna the warning of a dissolute age. Groth, on Blum, lives with her widowed mother and the other hand, a large-hearted artist with six still younger brothers and sisters. little vocation for writing pamphlets in Forced to go into service for their support, rhyme, is drawn by a subtle attraction. the child, in order to get better wages, towards this shattered wreckage, as he conceives a strange plan. Late on one calls it, of society. The alms-house is for stormy night a boy presents bimself, him the lumber-room of the civic mansion, starved and shivering, at a cottage in a unvisited, unswept, uncared for, strewn distant village, and begs for shelter. with old and battered furniture, shattered None of the farmers to whom he had ap- minds and broken hearts, shrivelled and plied for work cared to hire a young fellow dusty lives. There is the silver-haired of such delicate make and tender skin. blind man who sits outside by the door, He is taken in and cared for, and in spite drawing figures in the sand with his stick, of his being "a bit fine,” given work. his glassy eyes fixed on the clouds as he “ Peter ” rapidly becomes a general favor- listens to the chimes of other days still ite, - winning golden opinions among the ringing in his ears. There is the aristovillage housewives by his steadiness and cratic pauper, — "the Baron,” who never

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