Germany

GERMANY

PART I.—GEOGRAPHY AND STATISTICS.

GERMANY occupies the greater portion of central Europe, and has but few lines of natural boundary.

If by the designation Germany is meant the territory inhabited by Germans, this is considerably larger than the German empire constituted in 1871, the former having an area of about 340,000, and the latter of 208,000 English square miles. The present German empire extends from 47° 16' to 55° 53' N. lat., and from 5° 52' to 22° 52' E. long. The eastern provinces project so far that the extent of the German territory is much greater from S.W. to N.E. than in any other direction. Tilsit is 815 miles from Metz, whereas Hadersleben, in Schleswig, is only 540 miles from the Lake of Constance. The difference in time between the eastern and western points is 1 hour and 8 minutes. The empire is bounded on the S.W. and S. by Austria and Switzerland (for 1170 miles), on the S.W. by France (275 miles), on the W. by Luxembourg, Belgium, and Holland (together 512 miles). The length of German coast on the North Sea or German Ocean is 300 miles, and on the Baltic 830 miles, the intervening land boundary on the north of Schleswig being only 53 miles. The eastern boundary is Russia (725 miles).

The total area of the empire, including rivers and lakes but not the “haffs” or lagoons on the Baltic, is 208,427 English square miles, which is about the 18th part of Europe, the 250th part of the whole dry land, and the 853d part of the whole surface of the globe.

Physical Features. Coast and Islands.— The length of the coast-line is scarcely the third part of the whole frontier, so that the Germans must be regarded as less a maritime than an inland people. Unlike the eastern states of Europe, the German empire has not only an inland sea-shore, but is also in direct communication with the great oceans by means of the North Sea. The coasts of Germany are shallow, and deficient in natural ports, except on the east of Schleswig-Holstein, where wide bays encroach upon the land, giving access to the largest vessels, so that a great harbour for men-of-war has been constructed at Kiel. With the exception of those on the east coast of Schleswig-Holstein, all the important trading ports of Germany are river ports, such as Emden, Bremen, Hamburg, Lübeck, Stettin, Dantzic, Königsberg, Memel. A great difference, however, is to be remarked between the coasts of the North Sea and those of the Baltic. On the former, where the sea has broken up the ranges of dunes formed in bygone times, and divided them into separate islands, the mainland has to be protected by massive dikes, while the Frisian Islands are being gradually washed away by the waters. On the coast of East Friesland there are now only seven of these islands, of which Norderney, a bathing-place, is best known, while of the North Frisian Islands, on the western coast of Schleswig, Sylt is the most considerable. Besides the ordinary waste of the shores, there have been extensive inundations by the sea within the historic period, the gulf of the Dollart having been so caused in the year 1276. Sands surround the whole coast of the North Sea to such an extent that the entrance to the ports is not practicable without the aid of pilots. Heligoland, which has belonged to England since 1814, is a rocky island, but it also has been considerably reduced by the sea. The tides rise to the height of 12 or 13 feet in the Jahde Bay and at Bremerhafen, and 6 or 7 feet at Hamburg. The coast of the Baltic on the other hand possesses few islands, the chief being Alsen and Fehmern off the coast of Schleswig-Holstein, and Rügen off Pomerania. It has no extensive sands, though on the whole very flat. The Baltic has no perceptible tides; and a great part of its coast-line is in winter covered with ice, which also so blocks up the harbours that navigation is interrupted for several months every year. Its three haffs fronting the mouths of the large rivers must be regarded as lagoons or extensions of the river beds, not as bays. The Oder Haff is separated from the sea by two islands, so that the river flows out by three mouths, the middle one (Swine) being the most considerable. The Frische Haff is formed by the Nogat, a branch of the Vistula, and by the Pregel, and communicates with the sea by means of the Pillau Tief. The Kurische Haff receives the Memel, called Niemen in Russia, and has its outlet in the extreme north at MemeL Long narrow alluvial strips called Nehrungen, lie between the last two haffs and the Baltic. The Baltic coast is further marked by large indentations, the Gulf of Lübeck, that of Pomerania, cast of Rügen, and the semicircular Bay of Dantzic between the promontories of Rixhöft and Brüsterort. The German coasts are now well provided with lighthouses.

Surface and Geology.— In respect of physical structure Germany is divided into two entirely distinct portions, which bear to one another a ratio of about 3 to 4. The northern and larger part may be described as a uniform plain, covered generally by very recent deposits, but with small areas of Tertiary and Secondary formations protruding here and there. South and Central Germany, on the other hand, is very much diversified in scenery and in geological structure. It possesses large plateaus, such, as that of Bavaria, which stretches away from the foot of the Alps, fertile low plains like that intersected by the Rhine, mountain chains, and isolated groups of mountains, comparatively low in height, and so situated as not seriously to interfere with communication either by road or by railway. Its geological structure corresponds to this diversity of surface. The most ancient rocks of Germany are the gneisses, schists, and granites which form the Bohemian and Bavarian plateau, and extend into Saxony. Another isolated mass of similar rocks rising into the heights of the Vosges and Black Forest has been cut through by the valley of the Rhine. Silurian rocks are but scantily developed in Germany. The Devonian system, however, occupies an extensive area, since it forms the high tableland of the Taunus, Hundsruck, and Eifel, which ranges westw ard into Belgium. Carboniferous rocks with productive coal-fields cover isolated areas, chiefly in north-western Germany, particularly in Westphalia, at Saarbrück, in Saxony, and in Upper and Lower Silesia (see Coal). Between the Devonian uplands of the Taunus and the crystalline rocks of Bavaria a vast area of western Germany is occupied by the Triassic system, which ranges from Hanover to Basel and from near Metz to Baireuth. The southern half of this vast Triassic basin is bordered by a belt of overlying Jurassic rocks which skirt the Danubian plain in Würtemburg and Bavaria. Cretaceous rocks occur chiefly in north Germany in scattered patches flanking older formations. They evidently underlie the great plain, since they are found rising up here and there to the surface between Westphalia and Denmark. Older Tertiary formations are absent from Germany, save the portion of the Eocene Alps included within the territory of Bavaria. But Miocene deposits extend into numerous detached basins, including those of the Rhine below Bonn, and at Mainz, the country round Magdeburg, and the plains of Bavaria. These strata contain valuable seams of lignite. The vast plains of northern Germany are covered with glacial drift, which rises to heights of 1400 feet above the sea along the edges of the flanking hills. Igneous rocks of different ages have been erupted in many districts, and further diversify the geology. The best known are the Tertiary and post-Tertiary lavas and cones of the Eifel and Siebengebirge; others of more ancient date occur along the southern slopes of the Harz.

Mountains and Plateaus.— Bavaria is the only division of the country that includes within it any part of the Alps, the Austro-Bavarian frontier running along the ridge of the Northern Tyrolese or Bavarian Alps. The loftiest peak of this group, the Zugspitze (57 miles south of Munich), is 9702 feet in height, being the highest summit in the empire. The Upper German plain sloping northwards from the Bavarian Alps is watered by the Lech, the Isar, and the Inn, tributaries of the Danube, all three rising beyond the limits of German territory. This plain is separated on the west from the Swiss plain by the Lake of Constance (Bodensee, 1306 feet above sea-level), and on the east from the undulating grounds of Austria by the Inn. The average height of the plain may be estimated at about 1800 feet, the valley of the Danube on its north border being from 1540 feet (at Ulm) to 920 feet (at Passau). The plain is not very fertile. In the upper part of the plain, towards the Alps, there are several lakes, the largest being the Ammersee, the Würmsee or Starnberg Lake, and the Chiemsee. Many portions of the plain are covered by moors and swamps of large extent, there called Moose. The left or northern bank of the Danube, from Regensburg (Ratisbon) downwards presents a series of granitic rocks called the Bavarian Forest (Bayerischer Wald), which must be regarded as a branch of the Bohemian Forest (Böhmischer Wald). The latter is a range of wooded heights on the frontier of Bavaria and Bohemia, occupying the least known and least frequented regions of Germany. The summits of the Bayerischer Wald rise to the height of about 4000 feet, and those of the Bohemian Forest to 4800 feet, Hoher Arber, about 49° N. lat., being 4842 feet. The valley of the Danube above Ratisbon is flanked by Jurassic plateaus sloping gently to the Danube, but precipitous towards the valley of the Neckar. The centre of this elevated tract is the Rauhe Alp, so named on account of the harshness of the climate. The plateau continuing to the north-east and then to the north, under the name of the Franconian Jura, is crossed by the valley of the winding Altmühl, and extends to the Main. To the west extensive undulating grounds or low plateaus occupy the area between the Main and the Neckar.

The south western corner of the empire contains a series of better defined hill-ranges. Beginning with the Schwarzwald (Black Forest), we find its southern heights decline to the valley of the Rhine, above Basel, and to the Jura The summits are rounded and covered with wood, the highest being the Feldberg (10 miles S.E. of Freiburg, 4902 feet). Northwards the Black Forest passes into the plateau of the Neckarbergland (average height, 1000 feet). The heights between the lower Neckar and the Main form the Odenwald (about 1700 feet); and the Spessart, which is watered by the Main on three sides, is nothing but a continuation of the Odenwald. West of this range of hills lies the valley of the upper Rhine, extending about 180 miles from south to north, and with a width of only 20 to 25 miles. In the upper parts the Rhine is rapid, and therefore navigable with difficulty; this explains why the towns there are not along the banks of the river, but some 5 to 10 miles off. But from Speyer (Spires) town succeeds town as far down as Düsseldorf. The western boundary of this valley is formed in the first instance by the Vosges, where granite summits rise from under the surrounding red Triassic rocks (Sulzer Belchen, 4700 feet). To the south the range is not continuous with the Swiss Jura, the valley of the Rhine being connected here with the Rhone system by low ground known as the Gate of Mülhausen. The crest of the Vosges is pretty high and unbroken, the first convenient pass being near Zabern, which has been taken advantage of for the railway from Strasburg to Paris. On the northern side the Vosges are connected with the Haardt sandstone plateau (Kalmit, 2230 feet), which rises abruptly from the plain of the Rhine. The mountains south of Mainz (Mayence), which are mostly covered by vineyards, are lower, the Donnersberg, however, raising its head to 2262 feet. These hills are bordered on the west by the high plain of Lorraine and the coal-fields of Saarbrücken, the former being traversed by the river Moselle. The larger half of Lorraine belongs to France, but the German part possesses great mineral wealth in its rich layers of ironstone (siderite), and in the coal-fields of the Saar. The Devonian tract of the Hundsruck, Taunus, and Eifel is an extended plateau, divided into separate sections by the river valleys. Among these the Rhine valley from Bingen to Bonn, and that of the Moselle from Treves to Coblentz, are winding gorges excavated by the rivers. The Eifel presents a sterile, thinly-peopled plateau, covered by extensive moors in several places. It passes westwards imperceptibly into the Ardennes. The hills on the right bank of the Rhine also are in part of a like barren character, without wood; the Westerwald (about 2000 feet), which separates the valleys of the Sieg and Lahn, is particularly so. The northern and southern limits of the Niederrheinisches Gebirge present a striking contrast to the central region. In the south the declivities of the Taunus (2890 feet) are marked by the occurrence of mineral springs, as at Ems on the Lahn, Nauheim, Homburg, Soden, Wiesbaden, &c., and by the vineyards which produce the best Rhine wines. To the north of this Gebirge, on the other hand, lies the great coal basin of Westphalia (the largest in Germany). In the south of the hilly duchy of Hesse rise the isolated mountain groups of the Vogelsberg (2530 feet) and the Rhön (3117 feet), separated by the valley of the Fulda, which uniting further north with the Werra forms the Weser. To the east of Hesse lies Thuringia, a province consisting of the far-stretching wooded ridge of the Thüringer Wald (with three peaks of upwards of 3000 feet high), and an extensive elevated plain to the north. Its rivers are the Saale and Unstrut. This plateau is bounded on the north by the Harz, an isolated group of mountains, rich in minerals, with its highest elevation in the bare summit of the Brocken (3743 feet). To the west of the Harz a series of hilly tracts is comprised under the name of the Weser Mountains, out of which above Minden the river Weser bursts by the Porta Westphalica. A narrow ridge, the Teutoburger Wald (1300 feet), extends between the Weser and the Ems as far as the neighbourhood of Osnabrück.

To the east theThüringerWald is connected by the plateau of the Frankenwald with the Fichtelgebirge. This group of mountains, occupying what may be regarded as ethnologically the centre of Germany, forms a hydrographical centre, whence the Nab flows southward to the Danube, the Main westward to the Rhine, the Eger eastward to the Elbe, and the Saale northward, also into the Elbe. In the north-east the Fichtelgebirge connects itself directly with the Erzgebirge, which forms the northern boundary of Bohemia.

The southern sides of this range are comparatively steep; on the north it slopes gently down to the plains of Leipsic, but is intersected by the deep valleys of the Elster and Mulde. Although by no means fertile, the Erzgebirge is very thickly peopled, as various branches of industry have taken root there in numerous small places. Around Zwickau there is a productive coal-field, and mining for metals is carried on near Freiberg. In the east a tableland of sandstone, called Saxon Switzerland, from the picturesque outlines into which it has been eroded, adjoins the Erzgebirge; one of its most notable features is the deep ravine by which the Elbe escapes from it. Numerous quarries, which supply the North German cities with stone for buildings and monuments, have been opened along the valley. The sandstone range of the Elbe unites in the east with the low Lusatian group, along the east of which runs the best road from northern Germany to Bohemia. Then comes a range of lesser hills clustering together to form the frontier between Silesia and Bohemia. The most western group is the Isergebirge, and the next the Riesengebirge, a narrow ridge of about 20 miles’ length, with bare summits. Excluding the Alps, the Schneekoppe (5266 feet) is the highest peak in Germany; and the southern declivities of this range contain the sources of the Elbe. The hills north and north east of itare termed the Silesian Mountains. Here one of the minor coal-fields gives employment to a population grouped round a number of comparatively small centres. One of the main roads into Bohemia (the pass of Landshut) runs along the eastern base of the Riesengebirge. Still farther to the east the mountains are grouped around the hollow of Glatz, whence the Neisse forces its way towards the north. This hollow is shut in on the east by the Sudetic group, in which the Altvater rises to almost 4900 feet. The eastern portion of the group, called, the Gesenke, slopes gently away to the valley of the Oder, which affords an open route for the international traffic, like that through the Mülhausen Gate in Alsace, Geographers style this the Moravian Gate.

The North-German plain presents little variety, yet is not absolutely uniform, A row of low hills runs generally parallel to the mountain ranges already noticed, at a distance of 20 to 30 miles to the north. To these belongs the Upper Silesian coal-basin, which occupies a considerable area in south-eastern Silesia. North of the middle districts of the Elbe country the heights are called the Flaming hills. Westward lies as the last link of this series the Lüneburger Haide or Heath, between the Weser and Elbe, north of Hanover. A second tract, of moderate elevation, sweeps round the Baltic, without, however, approaching its shores. This plateau contains a considerable number of lakes, and is divided into three portions by the Vistula and the Oder. The most eastward is the so-called Prussian Seenplatte. Spirdingsee (430 feet above sea-level, and 46 square miles in area) and Mauersee are the largest lakes; they are situated in the centre of the plateau, and give rise to the Pregel. Some peaks near the Russian frontier attain to 1000 feet. The Pomeranian Seenplatte, between the Vistulι and the Oder, extends from S.W. to N.E., its greatest elevation being in the neighbourhood of Dantzic (Thurmberg, 1096 feet). The Seenplatte of Mecklenburg, on the other hand, stretches from S.E. to N.W., and most of its lakes, of which the Müritzsee is the largest, send their waters towards the Elbe. The finely wooded heights which surround the bays of the east coast of Holstein and Schleswig may be regarded as a continuation of these Baltic elevations. The lowest parts, therefore, of the North-German plain, excluding the sea-coasts, are the central districts from about 52° to 53° N. lat,, where the Vistula, Netze, Warthe, Oder, Spree, and Havel form vast swampy lowlands (in German called Brüche), which, during the last hundred years, have been considerably reduced by the construction of canals and by cultivation,—improvements due in large measure to Frederick the Great. The Spreewald, to the S.E. of Berlin, is one of the most remarkable districts of Germany. As the Spree divides itself there into innumerable branches, enclosing thickly wooded islands, boats form the only means of communication. West of Berlin the Have] widens into what are called the Havel lakes, to which the environs of Potsdam owe their charms. In general the soil of the North-German plain cannot be termed fertile, the cultivation nearly everywhere requiring severe and constant labour. Long stretches of ground are covered by moors, and there turf-cutting forms the principal occupation of the inhabitants. The greatest extent of moorland is found in the westernmost parts of the plain, in Oldenburg and East Frisia. The plain contains, however, a few districts of the utmost fertility, particularly the tracts on the central Elbe, and the marsh lands on the west coast of Holstein and the north coast of Hanover, Oldenburg, and East Frisia, which, within the last two centuries, the inhabitants have reclaimed from the sea by means of immense dikes.

Rivers.— Nine independent river-systems may be distinguished: those of the Memel, Pregel, Vistula (Weichsel), Oder, Elbe, Weser, Ems, Rhine, and Danube. Of these the Pregel, Weser, and Ems belong entirely, and the Oder mostly, to the German empire. The Danube has its sources on German soil; but only the fifth part of its course is German. Its total length is 1730 miles, and the Bavarian frontier at Passau, where the Inn joins it, is only 350 miles distant from its sources. It is navigable as far as Ulm, 220 miles above Passau; and its tributaries the Lech, Isar, Inn, and Altmühl are also navigable. The Rhine is the most important river of Germany, although neither its sources nor its mouths are within the limits of the empire. From the Lake of Constance to Basel (122 miles) the Rhine forms the boundary between the German empire and Switzerland; the canton of Schaffhausen, however, is situated on the northern bank of the river. From Basel to below Emmerich the Rhine belongs to the German empire—about 470 miles, or four-sevenths of its whole course. It is navigable all this distance, as are also the Neckar from Esslingen, the Main from Bamberg, the Lahn, the Lippe, the Ruhr, the Moselle from Metz, with its affluents the Saar and Sauer. Vessels sail up the Ems as far as Papenburg, and river craft as far as Greven, and the river is connected with a widely branching system of canals for turf-boats. The Fulda, navigable for 63 miles, and the Werra 38 miles, above the point where they unite, form by their junction the Weser, which has a course of 271 miles, and receives as navigable tributaries the Aller, the Leine from Hanover, and some smaller streams. Large steamers cannot, however, get as far as Bremen, and that commercial emporium has, in consequence, been obliged to form a seaport at Bremenhafen. The Elbe, after a course of 250 miles, enters German territory near Aussig, 482 miles from its mouth. It is navigable above this point to its junction with the Moldau. Hamburg may be reached by vessels of 10 to 11 feet draught. The navigable tributaries of the Elbe are the Saale (below Naumburg), the Havel, Spree, Elde, Sude, and some others. The Oder begins to be navigable almost on the frontier at Ratibor, 480 miles from its mouth, receiving as navigable tributaries the Glatz Neisse and the Warthe. Only the lower course of the Vistula belongs to the German empire, within which it is a broad, navigable stream of considerable volume. On the Pregel ships of 2500 tons reach Königsberg, and river barges reach Insterburg; the Alle, its tributary, may also be navigated. The Memel is navigable in its course of 113 miles from the Russian frontier. Germany is thus a country abounding in natural waterways, the total length of them being estimated at 7000 miles. But it is only the Rhine, in its middle course, that has at all times sufficient volume of water to meet the requirements of a good navigable river.

Lakes.— The regions which abound in lakes have already been pointed out. The Bodensee or Lake of Constance (186 square miles) is on the frontier of the empire,— portions of the northern banks belonging severally to Bavaria, Wiirtemberg, and Baden. The largest lake entirely on German territory is the Chiemsee (75 square miles); the Ammersee and the Würmsee are, however, but little less. A good many smaller lakes are to be found in the Bavarian Alps. The North-German plain is dotted with upwards of 500 lakes, covering an area of about 2500 square miles. The largest of these are the three Haffs,— the Oderhaff covering 370 square miles, the Frische Haff 332, and the Kurische Haff 626. The lakes in the Prussian and Pomeranian provinces, in Mecklenburg, and in Holstein, and those of the Havel, have already been mentioned. In the west the only lakes of importance are the Steinhuder Meer, 14 miles north-west of Hanover, and the Diimersee on the southern frontier of Oldenburg.

Climate.— The climate of Germany is to be regarded as intermediate between the oceanic and continental climates of western and eastern Europe respectively. It has nothing in common with the Mediterranean climate of southern Europe, Germany being separated from that region by the lofty barrier of the Alps. Although there are very considerable differences in the range of temperature and the amount of rainfall throughout Germany, these are not so great as they would be were it not that the elevated plateaus and mountain chains are in the south, while the north is occupied by low-lying plains. In the west no chain of hills intercepts the warmer and moister winds which blow from the Atlantic, and these accordingly influence at times even the eastern regions of Germany. The mean annual temperature of south-western Germany, or the Rhine and Danube basins, has in recent years been about 52 3 to 54°, that of central Germany 48° to 50°, and that of the northern plain 46° to 48°. In Pomerania and West Prussia it is only 44° to 45°, and in East Prussia 42° to 44°. The warmest districts of the German empire are the northern parts of the Rhine plain, from Carlsruhe downwards, especially the Rheinthal; these are scarcely 300 feet above the sea-level, and are protected by mountainous tracts of land. The same holds true of the valleys of the Neckar, Main, and Moselle. Hence the vine is everywhere cultivated in these districts. The mean summer temperature there is 66° and upwards, while the average temperature of January does not descend to the freezing point (32°). The climate of north-western Germany (west of the Elbe) shows a predominating oceanic character, the summers not being too hot (mean summer temperature 60° to 62°), and snow in winter remaining but a short time on the ground. West of the Weser the average temperature of January exceeds 32°; to the east it sinks to 30°, and therefore the Elbe is generally covered with ice for some months of the year, as are also its tributaries. The further one proceeds to the east the greater are the contrasts of summer and winter. While the average summer warmth of Germany is 60° to 62°, the January temperature falls as low as 26° to 28° in West Prussia, Posen, and Silesia, and 22° to 26° in East Prussia and Upper Silesia. The navigation of the rivers is regularly interrupted by frost. Similarly the upper basin of the Danube, or the Bavarian plain, has a rather inclement climate in winter, the average for January being 25° to 26°.

As regards rainfall, Germany belongs to those regions where atmospheric precipitation takes place at all seasons, but chiefly in the form of summer rains. In respect to the quantity of rain the empire takes a middle position between the humidity of north-western Europe and the aridity of the east. There are considerable differences between particular places. The rainfall is greatest in the Bavarian table-land and the hilly regions of western Germany. For the Eifel, Sauerland, Harz, Thüringer Wald, Rhön, Vogelsberg, Spessart, the Black Forest, the Vosges, &c., the annual average may be stated at 34 inches or more, while in the lower terraces of south-western Germany, as in the Erzgebirge and the Sudetic range, it is estimated at 30 to 32 inches only. The same average obtains also on the humid north-west coast of Germany as far as Bremen and Hamburg. In the remaining parts of western Germany, on the shores of Further Pomerania, and in East Prussia, it amounts to upwards of 24 inches. In western Germany there is a district famous for the scarcity of rain, and for producing the best kind of wine: in the valley of the Rhine below Strasburg, in the Palatinate, and also in the valley of the Main, no more than from 16 to 20 inches fall. Mecklenburg, Brandenburg, and Lusatia, Saxony and the plateau of Thuringia, West Prussia, Posen, and Lower Silesia are also to be classed among the more arid regions of Germany, the annual rainfall being 16 to 20 inches.

Vegetation, Animals, and Agriculture.

The flora of Germany comprises about 3000 species of phanerogamic and about 4000 cryptogamie plants. The country does not, however, form a single natural region, and cannot be characterized distinctively by any of the principal botanical types.

No uniform returns for the whole empire have been published, furnishing details regarding the distribution of the soil in respect of its cultivation, and thus statistics can only be collected from the official returns and estimates or valuations for separate districts. The following tabular statements must therefore be regarded as only approximately accurate :—

Cultivable and Uncultivable Area. [table]

Distribution of the Cultivable Area. [table]

From these tables it will be seen that the extent of uncultivable ground in Germany is inconsiderable; and that the arable land, including garden ground and vineyards, amounts to about one-half of the area.

Forests.— The woodlands form about one-fourth of the entire soil, the proportion of forest being far greater than in any other state in the west or south of Europe; the percentage for France is but 17, for Italy 12, for Great Britain about 3. The state forests alone occupy 17,600 square miles; and the greatest attention is paid throughout the empire to forest culture. Speaking generally, northern is not nearly so well wooded as central and southern Germany, where indeed most of the smaller mountains are covered with timber, as is indicated by the frequent use of the termination wald affixed to the names of the mountain ranges (as Schwarzwald, Thüringer Wald, <fcc.). The “Seenplatten” are less wooded than the hill country, but the eastern portion of the northern lowlands is well provided with timber. A narrow strip along the shores of the Baltic is covered with oaks and beeches; further inland coniferous trees are the most prevalent, particularly the Scotch fir; birches are also abundant. The mountain forests consist chiefly of firs, pines, and larches, but contain also silver firs, beeches, and oaks. Chestnuts appear on the terraces of the Rhine valley, and in Swabia and Franconia. The whole north-west of Germany is destitute of wood, but to compensate for this the people have ample supplies of fuel in the extensive stretches of turf, Agriculture.— The same kinds of cereal crops are cultivated in all parts of the empire, but in the south and west wheat is predominant, and in the north and east rye, oats, and barley. To these in some districts are added spelt, buckwheat, millet, rice-wheat (Triticum dicoccum), lesser spelt (Triticum monococcums and maize. In general the soil is remarkably well cultivated. The three years’ rotation formerly in use, where autumn and spring-sown grain and fallow succeeded each other, has now been abandoned, ex cept in some districts, where the system has been modified and improved. In South Germany the so-called Fruchtwechsel is practised, the fields being sown with grain crops every second year, and with pease or beans, grasses, potatoes, turnips, &c., in the intermediate years. In North Germany the mixed Koppehvirthaechaft is extending, by which system, after several years of grain crops, the ground is for two or three seasons in pasture. No general statistics on the subject of crops have as yet been published, but, according to private estimates, a fair average season will yield 325 million quarters of rye, oats 300, wheat and spelt 170, barley 100. In good seasons the production has been found sufficient to meet the native demand. Formerly the exports of the produce of the wheat and pulse crops exceeded the imports, but the importation of cereals has now for a number of years been constantly increasing. The potato is largely cultivated, not merely for food, but for distillation into spirits. This manufacture is prosecuted especially in eastern Germany. The Prussian provinces east of the Elbe, including Mecklenburg and Saxony, with a population of about 19 millions, produced 72 million gallons of spirits in 1876, while the rest of Germany (population 24 millions) produced only 25 million gallons. The common [table]

beet (Beta vulgaris) is largely grown in some districts for the production of sugar, which has greatly increased during the last thirty years. There are two centres of the beetroot sugar production: 231 factories, or more than two-thirds of the whole, are in Prussian Saxony, Hanover, Brunswick, Anhalt, and Thuringia, and there are 71 in Silesia, Brandenburg, and Pomerania, the principal centre of the latter group being Frankfort-on-the-Oder. Flax and hemp are cultivated, though not so much as formerly, for manufacture into linen and canvas, and also for the production of oil. The home supply no longer suffices for the native demand. The cultivation of hops is in a very thriving condition in the southern states of Germany. The soil occupied by hops was estimated in 1873 at 93,680 acres, —a larger area than in any other country of the globe (Great Britain having about 70,000 acres). The total production of hops is 477,000 cwts., and of this 402,000 cwts. are grown in Bavaria, Würtemberg, Baden, and Alsace-Lorraine. Hops thus form one of the standard articles of exportation from Germany, as well as beer. The following table shows the number of breweries in different parts of the country, and the amount of their production :— [table]

Tobacco forms the most productive and most profitable object of culture in many districts. The total extent under this crop in 1876 was 53,720 acres, no less than 32 per cent, of this being in Baden, 22 in Bavaria, 16 in Alsace-Lorraine, and only 30 per cent, in the rest of Germany. In the north the plant is cultivated principally in Pomerania, Brandenburg, and East and West Prussia. Of late years the production has on the whole diminished, the average amount having been 800,000 cwts. from 1872 to 1876.

The culture of the vine is almost confined to southern and western Germany, and especially to the Rhine district. The northern limits of its growth extend from Bonn in a northeasterly direction through Cassel to the southern foot of the Harz, crossing 52° N. lat. on the Elbe, running then east some miles to the north of that parallel, and finally turning sharply towards the south-west on the Warthe. In the valley of the Saale and Elbe (near Dresden), and in Lower Silesia (between Guben and Grünberg), the number of vineyards is small, and the wines of inferior quality; but along the Rhine from Basel to Coblentz,in Alsace, Baden, the Palatinate, and Hesse, and above all in the province of Nassau, the lower slopes of the hills are literally covered with vines. Here are produced the celebrated Rüdesheimer, Hochheimer, and Johannisberger. The vines of the lower Main, particularly those of Würzburg, are the best kinds; those of the upper Main and the valley of the Neckar are rather inferior. The Moselle wines are lighter and more acid than those of the Rhine. The total amount produced in Germany is estimated at 1000 million gallons,—Alsace-Lorraine turning out 400 millions, Baden 175, Bavaria, Würtemberg, and Hesse together 300, while the remainder, which though small in quantity is in quality the best, is produced by Prussia.

Live Stock.— The cultivation of grazing lands in Germany has been greatly improved in recent times, and is in a highly prosperous condition. The provinces of Pomerania and Hanover are particularly remarkable in this respect. The best meadow lands of Bavaria are in the outer range of the Alps, those of Saxony in the Erzgebirge. The following table shows the results of a live-stock census in 1873 :— [table]

The breeding of domestic animals is prosecuted most extensively in Bavaria, and in the maritime provinces. There we find 1000 to 1500 head of the larger kinds (horses, cattle, sheep, goats, swine) for every 1000 inhabitants; in the rest of eastern Germany 600 to 800; and in central and southern Germany only 400 to 600.. In the number of horses Germany ranks with Great Britain (about 80 for every 1000 inhabitants); and, although the production cannot satisfy the home demand, the imports being nearly 30,000 in excess of the exports annually, the breeding of horses has attained great perfection. The main centre is in East and West Prussia, where there are more than half a million of horses,—about 30 per English square mile; then follow the marsh districts on the Elbe and Weser, some parts of Westphalia, Saxony, and Upper Silesia, Lower Bavaria, Lower Alsace, and Lorraine. Cattle abound in most South-German states, especially Bavaria and Würtemberg, where there are 180 to 200 head for every square mile. In the northern and north eastern districts, on the other hand, the numbers are small (in some districts on!y 30 to 50 head to the square mile), except Schleswig-Holstein and the marsh lands along the shores of the North Sea, whence there is a considerable exportation to England. The aggregate number of sheep in Germany is only exceeded in Europe by that in Great Britain and Russia. The principal sheep districts are Pomerania and Mecklenburg (300 per square mile). As a rule, sheepfarming is resorted to where the soil is of inferior quality and unsuitable for tillage and the breeding of cattle. Far more attention is accordingly given to the rearing of sheep in northern and north-eastern Germany than in Schleswig-Holstein, East Frisia, Westphalia, Rhineland, and South Germany. The exportation of sheep is considerable, amounting in 1871 to 1,460,000 head; in 1875, however, the number was only 1,000,000. At the same time the native demand for wool is not covered by the home production. The largest stock of swine is in central Germany and Saxony, in Westphalia, on the lower Rhine, in Lorraine, Hesse, <fcc. Central Germany (especially Gotha and Brunswick) exports sausages and hams largely, as well as Westphalia; but the excess of swine imported over the •exports for the whole of Germany ranges from 600,000 to 800,000 annually.

Agricultural Population.— In the census returns of 1871 the number of persons entered as agriculturists (including persons engaged in rearing stock, in forestry, and the fisheries) was about 12,210,000, comprising 1,844,202 proprietors (1,690,931 males and 153,271 females), 2,101,005 agricultural labourers, &c., with 6,764,747 members of their families (2,338,174 males and 4,426,573 females), and about 1,500,000 (660,000 males and 840,000 females) engaged in household duties. Agriculture thus supports three-tenths of the population.

Wild Animals.— The number of wild animals in Germany is not very great. Foxes, martens, weasels, badgers, and otters are to be found everywhere; wolves are rare, but they find their way sometimes from French territory to the western provinces, or from Poland to Prussia and Posen. Among the rodents the hamster and the field-mouse are a scourge to agriculture. Of game there are the roe, stag, boar, and hare; the fallow deer and the wild rabbit are less common. The elk is to be found in the forests of East Prussia. The feathered tribes are everywhere abundant in the fields, woods, and marshes. Wild geese and ducks, grouse, partridges, snipes, woodcocks, quails, widgeons, and teal are plentiful all over the country. Geese and ducks are found mostly in the flat districts, where the great abundance of standing water affords ample scope for their increase. Tame geese are bred in large flocks, particularly in Pomerania. The length of time that birds of passage remain in Germany differs considerably with the different species. The stork is seen for about 170 days, the houseswallow 160, the snow-goose 260, the snipe 220. In northern Germany these birds arrive from twenty to thirty days later than in the south.

The waters of Germany abound with fish; but the genera and species are few. Carp and salmon tribes are the most abundant; after them rank the pike, the eel, the shad, the roach, the perch, and the lamprey. In addition to frogs, Germany has few varieties of Amphibia. Of serpents there are only two kinds, one of them being poisonous.

The rearing of bees is particularly attended to in the heathy districts of Hanover. The number of bee-hives may be estimated at 2 millions, and the produce of wax and honey at 100,000 cwts. The cultivation of silk-worms has been attempted, but has either entirely failed or had very indifferent success. In 1852-62 an attempt was made to extend the cultivation of the mulberry in the province of Brandenburg; but disease among the silk-worms, which it was found impossible to repress, rendered it unsuccessful.

Mines and Minerals.

Germany abounds in useful minerals, and in consequence takes a high place among industrial states. The production falls short, indeed, of that of England, but bears comparison with that of France and of the United States. The last annual report of the imperial statistical office (for the year 1876) classified the mineral produce of Germany under the following heads :—

Mineral Production in 1876. [table]

The general value of the production has increased considerably during the ten years ending 1876, as will be seen by the following table :—

[table]

The metals extracted from ores in 1876 were thus classified :—

Metal Production in 1876. [table]

Coal.— Coal-mining appears to have been first practised in the 14th century, at Zwickau (Saxony), and on the Ruhr. The production, which certainly did not exceed 500,000 tons in 1800, has vastly increased during the last thirty years, as may be seen from the following table (which does not include lignite) :—

Coal Production, 1848∙1877. [table]

There are six large coal fields, occupying an area of about 3600 square miles, of which the most important occupies the basin of the Ruhr, its extent being estimated at 2800 square miles. Here there are more than 60 beds, of a total thickness of 150 to 200 feet of coal; and the amount in the pits has been estimated at 45,000 millions of tons, so that the basin, at the present rate of 17,500,000 tons raised per annum, would not be exhausted in 2000 years. Smaller fields are found near Osnabrück, Ibbenbüren, and Minden, and a larger one near Aix-la-Chapelle. The Saar coal-field, within the area enclosed by the rivers Saar, Nahe, and Blies (460 square miles), is one of great importance. The thickness of 80 beds amounts to 250 feet, and Von Dechen estimates the total mass of coal at 45,400 million tons. The greater part of the basin belongs to Prussia, the rest to Lorraine. A still larger field exists in the Upper Silesian basin, on the border-land between Austria and Poland, containing about 50,000 million tons. Beuthen is the chief centre. The Silesian coal-fields have a second centre in Waldenburg, east of the Riesengebirge. The Saxon coalfields stretch eastwards for some miles from Zwickau. Deposits of less consequence are found in Upper Bavaria, Upper Franconia, Baden, in the Harz, Ac.

Number and Production of Collieries in 1876. [table]

The above tables do not include lignite, of which numerous beds are scattered over Germany. Extensive strata follow the course of the Oder, and a second group is spread over Lusatia, but the largest and most important deposit is in the Saale districts from Altenburg to the Harz. Smaller fields are situated round Cassel, northward of Frankfort, near Cologne and Aix-la-Chapelle, in the west of Hanover, and in the Upper Palatinate. The total production is stated in the official returns at 11,100,000 tons, representing a value of £1,922,000. Of this 8,780,000 tons are supplied by the fields in the Saale districts (province of Saxony, Anhalt, Brunswick, Saxe-Altenburg, and kingdom of Saxony). In North Germany turf also is of importance as a fuel; the area of the turf moors in Prussia is estimated at 8000 square miles, of which more than 2000 are in the north of Hanover. The coal produced supplies the home demand, although a considerable trade is carried on across the frontier. Through the ports of the North Sea and the Baltic more than 2 million tons of coals are imported annually from England, and nearly 2⅛ million tons of lignite come from Bohemia, On the other hand, the Ruhr and the Saar basins export nearly 3 million tons of coal to the Netherlands, France, and Switzerland, and the Upper Silesian basin lj millions to Austria and Russia. The following table gives a comparative view of the quantity supplied by the more important coal-producing countries in 1876 :— [table]

Graphite is produced only in Lower Bavaria; the total amount in 1876 was 20,104 cwts., value <£2090. Asphalt occurs near Hanover, in Brunswick, and in Alsace; total production in 1876, 720,000 cwts., value .£15,300. Petroleum is found in limited quantity near Lüneburg, and in Alsace.

Iron Ore. — Germany abounds in iron ores, some of which are of superior quality. The production increased rapidly for a time, but in recent years there has been a very great decline.

About35 percent, is brown iron ore, 25 percent, spathic iron, 18 per cent, black band, and 10 per cent, red iron ore. The rest consists of clay-ironstone, bog-iron ore (in the northern lowlands), and magnetic ores. Unfortunately but few mines are found in proximity to coal-pits, and important ore-deposits of great extent are far from coal, as, for instance, the iron districts of Nassau, of the Sieg valley, and of Hesse, Thuringia, Lorraine, Bavaria, and Würtemberg.

Iron Orc Production, 1848-1876. [table]

Ores free of phosphorus, suitable for the manufacture of Bessemer pig-iron, are also very scarce.

The following table shows the number and production of furnaces in blast in 1876 :— [table]

The iron manufacture has not been in a thriving condition since 1873; the total number of furnaces in Germany in 1876 was 435,—225 in blast as above, and 210 blown out. The following table shows the progress of pig-iron production, including castings: — [table]

Since the incorporation of Lorraine with the German empire the pig-iron production of Germany exceeds that of France. The following table shows the comparative increase in those countries, as well as in Great Britain and the United States :— [table]

Iron Industry.— While the produce of pig-iron has thus been advancing, similar progress appears in the iron industry, in some branches of which Germany has already emancipated herself from dependence on England. During the last few years, it is true, this trade has suffered severely from the overproduction of 1872 and 1873, as may be seen from the following table, showing the quantities and values of worked pig-iron in 1872 and 1876 :— [table]

The greatest advance has been made in the production of steel. In 1863 the quantity was only 1,400,000 cwts., but in 1872 it was about 6,500,000. The greater part of this is produced at the celebrated works of Krupp in Essen and the cast-steel works in Bochum. Many European states have for a considerable time been supplied by Krupp with cast-steel guns. The production of rails not only covers the home demand, but has allowed an annual exportation of 3,000,000 cwts. since 1877. Hardware also, the production of which is centred in Solingen, Heilbronn, Esslingen, &c., is largely exported. Germany stands second to Great Britain in the manufacture of machines and engines. There are in many large cities of North Germany extensive establishments for this purpose, but the industry is not limited to the large cities. It must be admitted that in agricultural machinery Germany cannot as yet compete with England. The locomotives and waggons for the German railways, however, are almost exclusively built in Germany; and Russia, as well as Austria, receives large supplies of railway plant from German works. In shipbuilding likewise Germany is becoming independent of England; and dockyards have been erected on the coast for the construction of large ironclads.

Silver and Gold.— Germany produces more silver than any other European state, and the quantity is annually increasing. Silver and gold are extracted from the ores in the mines of Freiberg (Saxony)and near the Harz; but silver is also refined from lead and copper ores in Upper Silesia, Merseburg, Aix-la-Chapelle, Wiesbaden, and Arnsberg. The gold-mining is of far less importance. The value of silver produced was, in 1867, £791,370; 1873, £1,539,590; 1876, £1,098,470; and that of gold, 1867, £11,750; 1876, £39,234.

Lead.— The quantity of the lead produced allows Germany to export from 300,000 to 400,000 cwts. annually. Nearly half the produce is obtained near Aix-la-Chapelle (651,273 cwts. in 1876); next come Upper Silesia (265,000 cwts.), Harz (176,550 cwts.), Nassau (143,770 cwts.), Saxony, Arnsberg, àc. The value in 1867 was only £898,140; but in 1876, £1,565,280; the quantity was 987,090 cwts. in 1867, and 1,512,000 cwts. in 1876.

Copper.— Although Germany yields more copper than any other European state, the native supply does not meet the demand. In recent years more than 200,000 cwts. have been imported. The Harz mountains and their environs (Mansfeld) alone produce five sixths of the whole amount, which has been doubled during the ten years ending 1876:—1867, 77,440 cwts., value £312,750; 1876, 168,430 cwts., value £641,750.

Zinc.— About 90 per cent, of the zinc produced in Europe is yielded by Belgium and Germany. The exportation from the latter amounts to more than half a million of cwts. per annum. The production doubled during the period from 1850 (620,000 cwts.) to 1860, but has made only slow progress since that time. In 1867 it was only 1,277,000 cwts., value about <£600,000; in 1876, 1,664,500, value <£1,740,600. 70 per cent, is produced in Upper Silesia in the neighbourhood of Beuthen, the rest in Westphalia and the Rhineland.

Salt.— Germany possesses abundant salt deposits. The actual production not only covers the home consumption, but also allows a yearly increasing exportation, especially to Russia, Austria, and Scandinavia. In 1877-78 there were 77 salt works in operation, 8 of which were mining works for rock-salt. The provinces of Saxony and Hanover, with Thuringia and Anhalt, have 28 works, and produce half the whole amount. A large work is found at Strzalkowo (Posen), and smaller ones near Dortmund, Lippstadt, and Minden (Westphalia). Tn South Germany salt abounds most in Würtemberg (Hall, Heilbronn, Rottweil); the principal Bavarian works are at the foot of the Alps near Freilassing and Rosenheim. Hesse and Baden have 6 salt works; Lorraine and the Upper Palatinate, 6. The total yield now amounts to 8,318,000 cwts. boiled salt, 3,221,000 cwts. rock salt, and 256,000 cwts. of other kinds. The production has made great advance during the last thirty years, having in 1850 been only 5 million cwts,, while in 1877 it was upwards of 11 million cwts.

Chloride. of Potash.— A considerable amount of this substance is turned out by 15 works in Anhalt, where only the potash ores are found. The production there in 1876 was 846,000 cwts., value about <£250,000.

Population.

Till very recent times no estimate of the population of Germany was precise enough to be of any value. At the beginning of the present century the country was divided into some hundred states, but there was no central agency for instituting an exact census on a uniform plan. Even the formation of the German Confederation in 1815 effected but little change in this respect, and it was left to the different states to arrange in what manner the census should be taken. On the formation, however, of the German Customs Union or Zollverein between certain German states, the necessity for accurate statistics became apparent, since the amounts accruing from the common import duties were to be distributed according to the number of inhabitants in the several states. The Zollverein had its origin in a customs convention between Prussia and the grand-duchy of Hesse in 1828; and other states, as they gradually became convinced of the advantages afforded by a general customs frontier, joined it from time to time during the succeeding forty years. The following table shows the progressive territorial limits of the Zollverein—which maybe regarded as the precursor of the present German empire;—

Population of the Zollverein. [table]

The returns made at different times by the separate states cannot be combined into an aggregate, showing precisely the former population of Germany. An enumeration was made every third year of the number of people that could be held as belonging to the different states comprised in the Zollverein; and it was only from 1867 that the returns gave the actual resident population. The following table gives the area and population of the twenty-six states of Germany as returned at the two last censuses (1871 and 1875) :—

Population of the German Empire, 1871 and 1875. [table]

The following table shows the rate of recent increase, the population of Alsace-Lorraine returned at the French census of 1866 being included in the statement for 1867 :— [table]

Comparing the census returns of 1871 and 1875,∙ it is found that only Alsace-Lorraine (17,934), the two Mecklenburgs (together 5231), and Waldeck (1481) are decreasing; all other states are increasing, though at very different rates. A comparison cannot here be made, however, between the smaller and the larger states. Hamburg and Bremen, for example, have considerably increased, but these must be regarded as consisting of single large towns, and a similar increase is found in all the great cities of Germany. Tn southern Germany (Alsace-Lorraine not included), and also in Hanover, the growth of population has been insignificant, whereas the population in the eight old provinces of Prussia and in Saxony shows a marked increase.

It appears from the following table that the inhabitants of Prussia and Saxony have increased 60 to 70 per cent, in 40 to 44 years, and those of the other states only 18 to 23 per cent. And it is to be observed that this increase is not confined to the industrial districts, but that those provinces also which have few large cities and the population of which live for the most part by agriculture, such as Pomerania, Prussia, Posen, have increased by 50 to 60 per cent. This is to be explained by the fact that there has been a very extensive immigration into Prussia since 1815, whereas emigration has been mostly from South Germany. But the surplus of births over deaths also has at all times been greater in the North.

Increase of Population in States. [table]

Vital Statistics.— It is very recently that general registers of births, deaths, and marriages began to be kept for all the German states, but these prove the increase of the excess of births over deaths in recent years to have been considerable. The following table of returns for the whole of Germany during the period 1872-76 brings out a natural addition by births of upwards of half a million yearly :— [table]

The numbers of births, deaths, and marriages for every 1000 of the population of Germany during the period 1872-5 were as follows :— [table]

In comparing this with similar tables for England, a great difference is obvious. While the average annual rate of births (4Γ6) has been much higher than in England (34'0) during recent years, the annual death-rate does not compare favourably with that of England (22'3) or of other states. Only Russia, Finland, Austria-Hungary, Italy, and Servia exhibit greater higher rates.

Sexes.— The numbers of the different sexes in 1871 and 1875 were as follows :— [table]

As in most European states, the surplus of females arises from their lower death-rate, for in Germany as elsewhere more boys are born than girls. The following table shows the numbers of births, including still-born :— [table]

Illegitimacy.— The number of illegitimate births is greater than in any other European state, except Sweden, Denmark, Austria, and Portugal. The rate of illegitimacy is about 9 per cent, of the births, the annual average for 1872-75 being 8∙86. In Rhineland the proportion was 2 - 8 per cent., North-Western Germany, Oppeln, and Posen 5 to 6, South-Western Germany 7 to 9, province of Saxony, Brandenburg (exclusive of Berlin), Pomerania, Schleswig-Holstein 9 to 10, Saxony, Thuringia, and Lower Silesia 12, Berlin 13'5, and Bavaria 14 ’ 6 per cent On the whole, illegitimacy has decreased of late, particularly in Bavaria.

Emigration.— The increase of population would have been still greater if emigration had not for years drained the country of considerable numbers of its inhabitants. The number of emigrants from Germany since 1820 may be estimated at 3,500,000, but this includes many Austrians, and it cannot be stated how many of the emigrants were natives of the German empire, as no authentic statistics of emigration were issued before 1873. The greater part of the emigrants take their passage via Bremen and Hamburg. The following statement, therefore, of the numbers of emigrants from these ports may afford a sufficient indication of the total emigration :— [table]

The following table, on the other hand, gives the number of emigrants from the German empire according to the official returns. The numbers are considerably lower than those of the last table. It will be seen that emigration has decreased greatly during recent years. [table]

The greater part of the recent emigration has been from the maritime provinces. Out of 230,000 emigrants in the years 1873-77, 132,350 were from Prussia, Pomerania, Mecklenburg, Schleswig-Holstein, Hanover, Oldenburg, Bremen, and Hamburg. These states, with a total population (1875) of 9,245,000, accordingly lost l¾ per cent., the rest of the country (33,482,000 inhabitants) only 97,500, or 0 ’ 3 per cent. It must be added, however, that the emigration from South Germany was formerly much more considerable. Alsace-Lorraine lost only 1193 inhabitants in 1873-77 by emigration to America. The great mass of German emigrants go to the United States,—90 , 5 percent, of the whole (207,974) having embarked for that country in 1873-76. According to the official returns of the board of statistics at Washington, more than 2,900,000 immigrants arrived from Germany at American ports during 1820-1877. The rest of the emigrants find their way to Australasia, Brazil, the Cape, &c.

Immigrants and Foreigners.· —In comparison with the emigrants, the number of immigrants is inconsiderable. The bulk come from Belgium, Holland, and Russia. The following table shows the number of natives of the empire who after being abroad have re-established themselves at home, and also the number of naturalized foreigners :— [table]

The number of foreign residents has considerably increased during 1871-75. In 1871 there were in the empire 40,852,037 natives and 206,755 foreigners; in 1875, 42,436,561 natives and 290,799 foreigners. The follow ing table gives the native countries of the foreigners for 1871,—the latest date for which these statistics have been published :— [table]

Density of Population.— The population is very unequally distributed, and the differences are far greater now than they were formerly. The mean density of the population had increased from about 120 inhabitants per square mile in 1820 to 150 in 1840, and to 205 in 1875. We have already pointed out the great increase of population during the present century in many agricultural provinces of Prussia. In South Germany, however, the density of population was considerable even at the beginning of the century. But Germany during this period has become an important industrial state, and, as in England, distinct industrial districts have been formed, where the inhabitants cluster in populous centres. Besides, the population of the cities has gone on increasing at the expense of the agricultural districts, so that the natural increase of the inhabitants [table]

in these districts by the surplus of births is neutralized by the steady migration of the people into the cities. In the accompanying official statistics all the inhabitants of communes with more than 2000 souls are designated “town population,” and the term “rural population” is applied to those of the smaller places. But it must be remarked that in several provinces, such as Westphalia, Rhineland, and Oldenburg, there are many communes consisting of numerous small villages and hamlets which have not the character of a town, and the inhabitants of which are almost exclusively agriculturists. These rank as town population, which accordingly appears in the returns to be a little larger than it really is. The figures exhibit the extremely unequal increase of the different groups from 1871 to 1875. [table]

The following is a list of the 35 towns which had upwards of 50,000 inhabitants at the census of 1875. The first column exhibits the population within the boundaries of the municipal boroughs (Stadtgemeinde). The numbers in the second are not official, but include all suburbs of a really urban character. The latter therefore afford a better indication of the actual size of the several towns.

Population of the Principal Towns in 1875. [table]

The inhabitants of these 35 towns amount to 10 ’ l or 11 per cent, of the entire population of the empire, according as we reckon by the municipal or the topographical boundaries. A similar proportion appears in France and Belgium; but the towns of England and Wales of 50,000 inhabitants and upwards have nearly 9⅜ million inhabitants, or 44 per cent, of the whole population.

Density of Population.—-The town population amounts in some districts, such as Gumbinnen (East Prussia) and Lower Bavaria, to only 11 to 12 per cent.; in others, as Zwickau, Leipsic, Düsseldorf, it reaches 50 to 66 per cent. Arranging Germany in 13 large divisions, we get the following table, the divisions being named after their principal provinces :— [table]

The most thinly peopled territories are found, not as might be expected in the mountain regions, but in some parts of the plains. There are not more than 50 persons to the square mile (about the same proportion as in the Scotch Highlands) on the moors of the Isar north of Munich, on the East-Frisian moors, and on the Lüneburg Heath. There are 50 to 100 inhabitants to the square mile on the Seenplatten of Pomerania and Mecklenburg, on the middle ridges of Schleswig-Holstein, in the horthern districts of Hanover, in the Spreewald, <fcc, Leaving out of account the small centres, Germany may be roughly divided into two thinly and two densely peopled parts. In the former division has to be classed all the North German plain; there it is only in the valleys of the larger navigable rivers, and on the southern border of the plain, that the density reaches 150 to 200 inhabitants per square mile. In some places indeed it is far greater: at the mouths of the Elbe and the Weser, in East Holstein, in the delta of the Memel, 250 to 300, and in the environs of Hamburg even 400, inhabitants are found to the square mile. This region is bordered on the south by a very densely inhabited district, the northern boundary of which may be defined by a line from Breslau to Hanover, and its southern by a line from Coburg via Cassel to Münster. Here the density rises from 150 to 570 per square mile, for in this part of Germany there are not only very fertile districts, such as the “Goldene Aue” in Thuringia, but also centres of industry. The population is thickest in Upper Silesia around Beuthen (coal-fields), round Ratibor, Neisse, and Waldenburg (coal-fields), round Zittau (Saxony), in the Elbe valley around Dresden, in the districts of Zwickau and Leipsic as far as the Saale, in the Goldene Aue, on the northern slopes of the Hartz, and around Bielefeld in Westphalia. In all these places the density is greater than 350 inhabitants to the square mile, and in Saxony it exceeds 500. The third division of Germany comprises the basin of the Danube and Franconia (the Upper Main system), and sweeps to the north-west between the valleys of the Werra and the tributaries of the Rhine as far as Sauerland. The population of Franconia rises a little above that of the rest of this region, the density in the valley of the Regnîtz between Nuremberg and Bamberg, and in the Main valley round Würzburg, reaching about 200 to 240 inhabitants per square mile. The fourth division embraces the valleys of the Rhine and the Neckar. In the latter and in the Upper Rhine plain agriculture has reached a high degree of perfection, and the soil is so fertile as to support a population of 400 per square mile. North of the Niederrlieinisches Schiefergebirge, again, are rich coal-fields, —making this the most important industrial district in Germany. Here indeed, in the governmental district of Düsseldorf, the population amounts to 700 per square mile, —about the same proportion as in the West Riding of Yorkshire; but no such density as exists in Lancashire (1500 to the square mile) is found anywhere in Germany. West of the Rhine a thickly peopled district is grouped round the coal-field of the Saar basin, but there is only a scattered population in the surrounding country. On the Eifel there are scarcely 100 inhabitants to the square mile.

Houses.— The number of houses was estimated in 1871 at 5,330,000, so that the average number of inhabitants per house is from 7 to 8. In England and Wales it is only 5 ’ 3 (1871). The greatest proportion of dwelling-houses to the population is in Alsace (5 ’ 1 persons to one house) and in Swabia (5 - 4). All the larger cities of Germany consist largely of houses in which a number of families live together. In Berlin the proportion per house is 57 persons, while in London it is only 8. This marks one important point of difference in the habits of the two countries.

Occupations.— The census of 1871 distinguishes 8 principal classes of occupation, but does not subdivide these. The official returns give for each class the number of persons engaged in the several occupations comprised in that class, with the number of attendants and other members of the families of those so occupied. The following table presents an abstract of the returns. In the case of Alsace-Lorraine the attendants are not given in the separate classes, but are all returned under class D. [table]

This table does not admit of comparison with the census returns of England and Wales, the mode of classification being different. It will be seen that more persons belong to the industrial than to the agricultural class.

Industries.

Some account of different industries has already been given in connexion with the productions of the empire. The principal textile manufactures have still to be noticed.

Cotton Manufacture.— Before 1871 the production of cotton fabrics in France exceeded that in Germany; but as the cotton manufacture is pursued largely in Alsace, more than 2 million spindles being employed there, the balance is now against the former country. In 1873 there were about 5 million spindles in Germany and 4,611,000 in France. From the subjoined table of imports and exports (gross weight, the net weight being about 4 per cent, less) of the raw material, it will be seen that this industry has not improved since 1873 :— [table]

Cotton spinning and weaving are not confined to one district, but are prosecuted in Upper Alsace (Mülhausen, Gebweiler, Colmar), in Saxony (Zwickau, Chemnitz, Annaberg), in Silesia (Breslau, Liegnitz), in the Rhine province (Düsseldorf, Münster, Cologne), in Erfurt and Hanover, in Wurtemberg (Reutlingen, Cannstadt), in Baden, Bavaria (Augsburg, Bamberg, Baireuth), and in the Palatinate. The number of hands occupied in the mills in 1875 was 68,555 (34,385 males, 34,170 females) and in the weaving establishments 186,496 (124,732 males and 61,764 females). Of these 98,188 were in Saxony. The production of cotton yarn is not sufficient for the home demand, and for some years back the imports of the article have exceeded the exports by about 200,000 cwts., till 1878, when the excess was only 117,000 cwts.

Woollen and Worsted.— In this class of manufactures Germany is far behind France. First of all, the home production of wool is not sufficient. In 1873-75 the imports of wool exceeded the exports by 300,000 cwts. per annum, and in 1876-78 the excess amounted to 800,000 cwts. In 1875 there were about 1,200,000 spindles for carded woollen yarn,—about 700,000 of them in Prussia, and 320,000 in Saxony. For worsted spinning there were 450,000 spindles,—Upper Alsace having 180,000, and Saxony 110,000; nevertheless the production falls short of the demand, and from 150,000 to 250,000 cwts. must be obtained from foreign countries. The manufacture of woollen cloth is well developed, and is prosecuted for exportation. The cloth is valued as being well woven, durable, and cheap. The centres of its manufacture are the Rhine province, Brandenburg, Lower Silesia, Magdeburg, Thuringia, Saxony, Würtemberg, and Alsace. In 1875 there were altogether 192,452 persons engaged in the woollen industry.

Linen, Hemp, and Jute.— Germany, although linen was formerly one of her most important articles of manufacture, is now left far behind in this industry, not only by Great Britain and France, but also by Austria-Hungary. In 1874 there were 326,538 spindles at work in Germany for flax, hemp, and jute spinning, while there were 415,000 in Austria, 663,000 in France, and 1,670,000 in Great Britain. About 300,000 cwts. of linen yarn are imported into Germany annually, whereas Austria exports about 100,000 cwts, Hand-loom weaving is practised all over Germany, but centres principally in Saxony, Silesia, and Westphalia. In recent times also power-loom weaving has been extending. In 1873 there were 68 establishments in Germany, principally at Elberfeld and Barmen, with 3473 power-looms, including 7 factories, with 546 power-looms, for jute. The linen industry employed 187,793 persons in 1875. The demand for linen is nearly covered by the home production.

Bilk.— Raw silk can scarcely be ranked among the products of the empire, and the annual demand has thus to be provided for by importation. It amounts to about 50,000 cwts., there being some superior silk-weaving establishments. The main centre of the silk industry is Crefeld and its neighbourhood; then come Elberfeld and Barmen, Aix-la-Chapelle, as well as Berlin, Potsdam, Chemnitz and Annaberg, Munich, Stuttgart, Saargemünd, &c. The exports of silk stuffs always exceed the imports.

General Census of Industries.— In 1875 a census of industrial occupations was taken in Germany. The following table gives the numbers of the different establishments and of the persons engaged in them :— [table]

Roads, Railways, and Canals. Roads. —The construction of good highways has been welt attended to in Germany only since the Napoleonic wars. The separation of the empire into small states was favourable to road-making, inasmuch as it was principally the smaller Governments that expended large sums for their network of roads. Thirty years ago the best roads were found in Hanover and Thuringia: the Thüringer Wald has been almost transformed into a park by its splendid roads. But some districts suffer even still from the want of good highways. The introduction of railways for a time diverted attention from road-making, but this neglect has of late been to some extent remedied. In Prussia the circles (Kreise) have now themselves undertaken the charge of the construction of the roads; but they receive a subsidy from the public funds of the several provinces. The total length of the public roads is now estimated at 72,000 miles.

Railways.— The period of railway construction was inaugurated in Germany by the opening of the line from Nuremberg to Fürth in 1835, but the development of the system was slow. The want of a central government operated injuriously here, for it frequently happened that intricate negotiations and solemn treaties between several sovereign states were required before a line could be constructed; and moreover the course it was to take was often determined less by the general exigencies of commerce than by many trifling interests or desires of neighbouring states. The state which was most self-seeking in its railway politics was Hanover, which separated the eastern and western parts of the kingdom of Prussia. The difficulties arising to Prussia from this source were experienced in a still greater degree by the seaports of Bremen and Hamburg. Until 1866 there was no railway from Bremen into the interior of Germany, while now there are four. Prior to 1865 the construction of railways advanced pretty uniformly, the average construction during the years from 1840 to 1865 having been from 340 to 370 miles per annum. Germany was at that time far outstripped in the extent of its railway system by England, Belgium, and Switzerland, and even by France. A new period of railway construction begins with the year 1866, and is closely connected with the economical and political progress of Germany. Numerous great undertakings were then set on foot, partly to remedy the defects of the existing system. Everywhere it became a primary object to establish the most direct lines of communication between important places of industry and commerce. As a consequence the German railway system was immensely enlarged, and from 1865-75 it has nearly been doubled. In 1872, 2000 miles were opened, the average from 1869 to 1877 being 1080 miles annually, so that Germany now owns a greater length of railways than any other state in Europe. On the 31st December 1877 Germany had 18,830 miles, Great Britain and Ireland 17,092, France 14,785. As regards proportion to the area and population, however, Belgium, Great Britain, and Switzerland are still in advance. In 1877 Belgium had 320 miles of railways to every 1000 square miles, Great Britain 273, Switzerland 155, and Germany 147. The following table exhibits the development of the German railways, including those of Alsace-Lorraine :— [table]

In recent years the multiplication of competing railways has greatly reduced the receipts of the older lines. The total amount of capital sunk in railway construction is estimated for the year 1876 at £373,558,000, or just about half the capital invested for the same purpose in Great Britain (£741,800,000). From the subjoined table it will be seen that the working expenses have considerably advanced during late years, and dividends accordingly have experienced a great decline. Railways formerly paying 15 to 18 per cent, have gone down to 5 to 6; the average dividend, which in 1870 was still 6 per cent., in 1876 had fallen to 4 ’ 4 per cent. [table]

The making of railways has from the outset been regarded by some German states as exclusively a function of the Government. The South German states, for example, possess only state railways. In Prussia numerous companies have in the first instance constructed their systems, and the state has contented itself for the most part with laying lines in such districts only as were not likely to attract private capital. Yet, in order to establish a preponderating influence over the administration of all German railways, the Government has for some time been buying up private lines. Saxony not long ago purchased all the Saxon railways belonging to private companies. The following table gives the proportion of state and private railways at 31st December 1877, the minor North German states being classed along with Prussia. Of these Oldenburg alone possesses a greater length of railways belonging to the state than of those in the hands of private companies. The railways of Alsace-Lorraine are the property of the empire. The number of independent managements in 1878 was 67. [table]

Canals.— Germany cannot be said to be rich in canals. In South Germany the Ludwigs-canal was until the annexation of Alsace-Lorraine the only one of importance. It was constructed by King Ludwig of Bavaria in order to unite the German Ocean and the Black Sea, and extends from the Main at Bamberg to Kelheim on the Danube. Alsace-Lorraine had canals for connecting the Rhine with the Rhone and the Marne; the coals of the Saar valley were conveyed by canals to Lorraine. The North German plain has several canals, of which only the more important need be named. In the east a canal by which Russian grain is conveyed to Königsberg joins the Pregel to the Memel. The Netze canal unites the Vistula and Oder. The Upper Silesian coal-field is in communication with the Oder by means of a canal. The greatest number of canals is found around Berlin; they serve to join the Spree to the Oder and Elbe. Smaller canals are found also in the north-west. The Meuse and the Rhine are also connected by a canal. The 70 canals in Germany have a total length of only 1250 miles, a very small extent when the other canal systems of western Europe are compared with it.

Posts and Telegraphs.

With the exception of Bavaria and Würtemberg, which have administrations of their own, all the German states belong to the system of the reichspost. Since 1874 the postal and telegraphic departments have been combined. Both branches of administration have undergone a surprising development during the last 10 years, especially since the reduction of the postal rates. Germany, including Bavaria and Würtemberg, constitutes with Austria-Hungary a special postal union (Deutsch-Oesterreichischer Postverband), besides forming part of the international postal union. There are no statistics of posts and telegraphs before 1867, for it was only when the North German union was formed that the lesser states resigned their right of carrying mails in favour of the central authority. Formerly the prince of Thurn-and-Taxis was postmaster-general of Germany, but only some of the central states belonged to his postal territory. The seat of management was Frankfort. Of late years the number of post-offices has increased considerably, as will be seen from the following figures, in which the statistics of the Bavarian and Würtemberg post-offices are included, as well as those of the reichspost. In 1872 there were 7400 post-offices; in 1877, 8600. In the latter year therefore there was one post-office for every 23 square miles. In 1877 there were 3194 imperial post-and-telegraph offices, and 3746 imperial post-offices, while the Bavarian post-offices numbered 1243, and those of Würtemberg 499. The following table shows the increase of letter circulation from 1872 to 1877 :—

[table]

The average number of letters to each person is thus a little greater in Germany than it is in Ireland, whereas it is 26 in Scotland and 35 in England. The number of postcards has increased from 26 - 5 millions in 1872 to 99 ’ 3 millions in 1877. The following table shows the general postil circulation during the three years 1875-77 :— [table]

Telegraphs.— By combining the postal and telegraphic departments Germany has been saved a large number of officials; but great sums are still spent annually on the extension of the telegraph system. Since 1876 important localities have been brought into communication with Berlin by subterranean wires. This plan is expensive, but under it a considerable saving is anticipated in repairs. The number of telegraph offices in 1877 was 7251, of which about 4600 belonged to the state, and the rest to private railways. The following table shows the progress of the telegraphic system between 1872 and 1877, and the number of messages in these two years :—- [table]

The increase of messages is insignificant, a circumstance which must be attributed to the recent dulness of trade. On the whole the telegraph is not as yet used to a very great extent in Germany. The number of messages for every 100 inhabitants in 1877 was 33, as compared with 47 in Norway, 49 in Denmark, 54 in Belgium, 58 in the Netherlands, 64 in Great Britain, and 100 in Switzerland.

Shipping.

The German mercantile marine has always been distinguished by the excellence of its personnel. The seamen of Frisia are acknowledged to be among the best in the world, and the shipping of Bremen and Hamburg had won an everywhere respected name long before a German mercantile marine, properly so-called, was heard of. Many Hamburg vessels sailed under charter of English and other houses in foreign waters, especially in the Chinese. Since 1868 all German ships have carried a common flag—black, white, red—but formerly Oldenburg, Hanover, Bremen, Hamburg, Lübeck, Mecklenburg, and Prussia had each its own flag, and Schleswig-Holstein vessels sailed under the Danish flag. It is but lately that a uniform mode of measuring the hold tonnage of German ships has been introduced, and accordingly it is only since 1871 that it has been possible to give an exact statement of the position of German shipping. The official returns show that the marine is on the increase. The following table gives its position on the 1st of January in the years 1872-78. The tonnage is reckoned according to the English register ton. [table]

The lowest tonnage of vessels included in this return is 16 tons for sailing vessels and 11 tons for steamers. On comparing the state of the German marine with that of other cóuntries we find that Germany ranks fourth in the list of maritime nations. Great Britain and the United States have considerably larger fleets. That of Norway also was even in 1871 greater than that of Germany, and it has increased much more rapidly than the other since that time; but on the other hand the mercantile marines of France and Italy, which in 1871 were larger than the German, are both now less. The following table shows the proportion of the mercantile shipping of Germany belonging to each of the maritime states on the 1st of January 1878. It must be borne in mind that Bremen and Hamburg properly consist only of one port each, whereas Prussia has hundreds of miles of coast-line both on the North Sea and on. the Baltic. [table]

The number and the tonnage of steamers have, as in other countries, increased greatly, while those of sailing vessels have remained almost stationary. The aggregate horsepower of the steamers in 1871 was 23,287; in 1877 it was 50,603. The number of seamen employed in 1878 was 40,832, and of those 8173 served on board steamers.

In 1876 165 sailing vessels of 35,439 tons, and 14 steamers of 6200 tons, were built in Germany; and 8 sailing vessels of 3862 tons, and 1 steamer of 1910 tons, were built abroad. There were besides 50 ships with a total tonnage of 21,755 which had been bought in America, Holland, and Great Britain.

The shipping returns of German ports have lately fluctuated but little. The total amount was 13,311,000 tons in 1876. A striking difference will be observed in the following table in the returns between the numbers entering and clearing in ballast:—

Total Tonnage of Ships, 1876. [table]

Only 44 per cent, of the ships that trade with German porta sail under the German flag. British ships have a very considerable trade in German ports. They constitute 32 per cent, of the total tonnage, and as much as 47 per cent, of the tonnage of steam vessels. Denmark follows next with 7 ’ 2 per cent., Sweden 4 ’ 8, Norway 4 ’ 6, Russia 2∙3, Holland 2’1, France 12, United States 1 ’ 2, Italy 0 ’ 5, other countries 0’4. The number of voyages in all made by German ships in 1876 was 45,492, of which 12,963 were made between German ports. Much more considerable, however, is the trade of German ships between the home ports and foreign countries, as the subjoined table will show, while no fewer than 9777 voyages were made in 1876 by German vessels without calling at any home port :— [table]

There were 5544 voyages made between non-German ports in Europe, the greater number being between one English port and auother. Many German vessels also run between the Baltic ports of Russia and Sweden. From European ports 993 vessels sailed for non-European ports, and 869 returned thence to Europe. Here also the greater number ran from Great Britain to the United States, the West Indies, and South America. 2371 ships made their voyages without touching at European ports. Most of these Were engaged in the coasting trade in the Chinese Seas, on the South American coasts, and in the West Indies.

As regards the shipping of the most important German ports, the following table will show the total tonnage of ships entered and cleared in 1876 :— [table]

Commerce.

Statistics relating to the foreign trade of the empire are necessarily confined to very recent times. The quantities of such imported articles as are liable to duty have indeed been known for many years; and some years ago an attempt was also made to compile official tables showing the value both of imports and of exports. But when the results of these tables proved the importation to be very much greater than the exportation, the conviction arose that the valuation of the exports was erroneous, and below the reality. There is no compulsory declaration of such goods, and consequently the attempt to compute statistics of this nature has been abandoned since 1875. It must at the outset be observed that the customs frontier does not coincide with the political frontier of Germany, for it does not take in the free-port territories of Hamburg and Cuxhaven, Bremen, Bremerhafen and Geestemünde, Ac. (in all, 129 square miles with 593,040 inhabitants, in 1875), besides some communes in Baden adjoining the Lake of Constance (22 square miles, 5236 inhabitants). On the other hand the grand-duchy of Luxembourg (998 square miles, with 205,158 inhabitants in 1875) and the small Austrian commune of Jungholz 206 inhabitants), near Füssen, belong to the German Zollverein. The collection of duties is a function of the empire. The following table Shows the results of the official calculations of the imports into Germany for 1872-76, and also the values of the exports, but in the case of these it is only the figures for the years 1872-74 that are official. The numbers for 1875 and 1876 are those published by Professor Laspeyres in the Economiste Français. [table]

The extremely slight variation which this table shows in the exports of the several years from 1872 to 1876 appears so improbable that we can hardly venture to make it a basis of calculation, or to draw a conclusion so unfavourable to the trading balance of Germany as the figures would suggest. The proportion per head of population is, as regards imports and exports respectively, about £4, 10s. and £3, whereas the proportion in Great Britain in 1876 amounted in the one case to £11, 10s. and in the other to £6, thus showing the German trade to be less than half that of England. The statistical tables do not specify the several foreign markets for imports and exports; they only give the value of imports on the different frontiers. [table]

According to the official trade returns of Great Britain, France, and other countries, the trade between Germany and these countries is very considerable. By the English tables the importation from Germany to British ports was in 1875-76 between £21,000,000 and £22,000,000; the exportation to Germany in 1875 was £23,300,000, and in 1876, £20,100,000. The movement of trade is shown in the following tables, of the principal articles imported and exported. We begin with articles of consumption :— [table]

The weights are stated in hundredweights (cwts.) net throughout (see Statistical Abstract published by the English Board of Trade, No. V., 1878). This table shows that of late years Germany has had to order considerable quantities of grain from abroad. The value of the importation, estimated at £14,000,000 in 1872, was nearly £36,000,000 in 1877. Similarly the value of the imported animals advanced from £4,400,000 in 1872 to £9,500,000 in 1877.

The following table gives the imports and exports of the principal raw materials :— [table]

With regard to the proper products of industry, the exports, with few exceptions, such as yarn, exceed the imports in every case, as is shown in the table below. The total value of all fabrics imported is estimated at about £30,000,000, that of those exported at from £42,000,000 to £45,000,000. But, even supposing the last figures to be too low, the difference between the German and the British trade is still very great, since the value of all the industrial products exported by Great Britain may be stated at £170,000,000 for the year 1875 (see Almanach de Gotha, 1877). The difference is greatest in the textile industries, —the value of tissues exported from England in 1875 being estimated at £100,000,000, while that of Germany did not rank higher than from £20,000,000 to £25,000,000. Articles of hardware are showing a great decrease of imports and a considerable increase of exports.

Industrial Products—Imports and Exports. [table]

The principal ports of import and export are Hamburg and Bremen, and in these places the annual amount of shipping business has advanced step by step with the general development of German trade. As to the total value of goods entering Hamburg we have accurate statistics for several decades.

Imports of Hamburg. [table]

The stagnation in the development of trade during the period 1871-77 is obvious; and with Bremen the case is the same. The following table states the total imports of Bremen by sea and from the interior. The importation from Germany or the Zollverein territory represents about one-third of the total amount. Bremen trades principally with the United States; Hamburg more with England, South America, Ac.

Imports of Bremen. [table]

Government.

The German empire is a union of 25 sovereign states, —4 kingdoms, 6 grand-duchies, 5 duchies, 7 principalities, 3 free towns. Alsace-Lorraine, ceded by France at the peace concluded 10th May 1871, forms a twenty-sixth constituent of the confederation, but it is administered by the central authority. The supreme direction of the military and political affairs of the empire has, by the vote of the reichstag or diet of the North German confederation, been vested in the king of Prussia, who accordingly bears the title of German Emperor (Deutscher Kaiser).

The imperial dignity is hereditary in the line of Hohenzollern, and follows the law of primogeniture. The emperor exercises the imperial power in the name of the confederated states. In his office he is assisted by a federal council or bundesrath, which represents the Governments of the individual states of Germany. The members of this council, 59 in number, are appointed for each session by the Governments of the individual states. The legislative functions of the empire are vested in the emperor, the bundesrath, and the reichstag or diet. The members of the latter, 397 in number, are elected for a space of three years by universal suffrage. Vote is by ballot, and one member is elected by (approximately) every 100,000 inhabitants.

As regards its legislative functions, the empire has supreme and independent control in matters relating to military affairs and the navy, to the imperial finances, to German commerce, to posts and telegraphs, and also to railways, in so far as these affect the common defence of the country. Bavaria and Würtemberg, however, have preserved their own postal and telegraphic administration. The legislative power of the empire also takes precedence of that of the separate states in the regulation of matters affecting freedom of migration (Freizügigkeit), domicile, settlement, and the rights of German subjects generally, as well as in all that relates to banking, patents, protection of intellectual property, navigation of rivers and canals, civil and criminal legislation, judicial procedure, sanitary police, and control of the press and of associations.

The executive power is in the emperor’s hands. He represents the empire internationally, and can declare war if defensive, and make peace as well as enter into treaties with other nations; he also appoints and receives ambassadors. For declaring offensive war the consent of the federal council must be obtained. The separate states have the privilege of sending ambassadors to the other courts; but all consuls abroad are officials of the empire, and are named by the emperor.

Both the federal council and the reichstag meet in annual sessions convoked by the emperor who has the right, of proroguing and dissolving the diet; but the prorogation must not exceed 60 days, and in case of dissolution new elections must be ordered within 60 days, and the new session opened within 90 days. All laws for the regulation of the empire must, in order to pass, receive the votes of an absolute majority of the federal council and the reichstag. The subjoined table gives the number of votes which the separate states have in the federal council. Each state may appoint as many members to the federal council as it has votes. The table also gives the number of the deputies in the reichstag. The official order of precedence of the 26 states is given in a former table (see p. 455); here they are arranged in the order of the number of their inhabitants.

Representation in Federal Council and Reichstag. [table]

The federal council is presided over by the chancellor of the empire (Reichskanzler). Imperial measures, after passing the federal council and the reichstag, must obtain the sanction of the emperor in order to become law, and must be countersigned, when promulgated, by the chancellor of the empire. All members of the federal council are entitled to be present at the deliberations of the reichstag. The federal council, acting under the direction of the chancellor of the empire, is also a supreme administrative and consultative board, and as such it has nine standing committees, viz.:—for army and fortresses; for naval purposes; for tariffs, excise, and taxes; for trade and commerce; for railways, posts, and telegraphs; for civil and criminal law; for financial accounts; for foreign affairs: and for Alsace-Lorraine. Each committee includes representatives of at least four states of the empire.

For the several branches of administration a considerable number of imperial offices have been gradually created. All of them, however, either are under the immediate authority of the chancellor of the empire, or are separately managed under his responsibility. The most important are the chancery office, the foreign office, and the general post and telegraph office. But the heads of these do not form a cabinet.

By the electoral law of 31st May 1869 every German of twenty-one years of age is entitled to be an elector, and every one who has completed his twenty-fifth year, and has resided for a year in one of the federal states, is eligible for election. The deputies are unsalaried, but during the session they have the right of travelling free by rail. The following table shows the political composition of the reichstag after the four elections from 1S71 to 1878 :— [table]

All the German states are constitutional, except Alsace-Lorraine and the two grand-duchies of Mecklenburg. The six larger states have adopted the two-chamber system, but in the composition of the houses great differences are found. The following table gives analyses of the membership for the sessions of 1878. As regards the lower house, 60,000 inhabitants elect one deputy in Prussia, 33,000 in Bavaria, 35,000 in Saxony, 20,000 in Wurtemberg, 24,000 in Baden, 18,000 in Hesse. [table]

The lesser states also have chambers of representatives numbering from 12 members (in Reuss) to 46 members (in Brunswick), and in most states the different classes, as well as the cities and the rural districts, are separately represented. The free towns have legislative assemblies, numbering from 120 to 200 members. In the so-called landtagen (diets) of Mecklenburg, which have but few privileges, 684 rittergüter (allodial estates) are represented and only 40 towns.

Finance.

The most important expenses which the budget of the German empire has annually to meet are those of the central administration, the army and navy, posts and telegraphs, the high court of justice, the foreign office, and some smaller items. For defraying these, all customs receipts and the net amount of certain excise duties are paid into the imperial treasury (reichskasse). Of the excise duties those on beet-root sugar, salt, and tobacco are common to all the states; but the imperial malt tax is not imposed in Bavaria, Würtemberg, Baden, or Alsace-Lorraine. The three first-named states are likewise exempt from the imperial excise on spirits. Additional receipts are derived from the duty on bill stamps, from posts and telegraphs (excluding Bavaria and Würtemberg), from the railways in Alsace-Lorraine, &c. These receipts are, however, insufficient to meet the expenses of the administration, and for that reason the separate states have to make contributions to the revenues of the empire, varying in proportion to their population. Bavaria, Baden, Würtemberg, and Alsace-Lorraine pay proportionally higher direct contributions, because they impose taxes on their own account on malt and spirits; so also do Bremen and Hamburg, because they are situated outside the customs territory. For the last few years the average contributions have ranged from £3,000,000 to £4,000,000; but they are increasing with the diminution of the funds available from the French war indemnity. These contributions press heavily upon the minor states.

The imperial budget is voted every year by the reichstag. The ordinary and extraordinary expenses for the financial year ending March 31, 1879, were distributed as follows :— [table] [table]

The direct contributions of the principal states of the empire to the revenue for 1878-79 were as follows :— [table]

Customs Revenue.— The revenue from the customs duties has increased but little since 1872. In that year it was £5,534,000, and in 1873, £G,131,000; but in 1877-78 it was only £5,768,000. No export duties have been raised in Germany for many years. On the other hand, all imported goods were taxed till 1865, with very few exceptions. Since then free trade has been more in favour, and a considerable reduction has taken place in the number of taxed articles. There are still, however, according to the official lists, about 148 articles on which custom duties are levied under 43 divisions. Raw materials are duty free. Four-fifths of the receipts (£4,323,000) are derived from articles of consumption, coffee being the principal item, after which come tobacco, wine, spirits, &c. The subjoined table shows the customs receipts, in round numbers, from the following items in 1878 :— [table]

The preceding table shows great differences when compared with the corresponding list for Britain. The consumption of coffee is considerably larger,—Germany having imported 2,128,000 cwts. in 1876, Great Britain only 1,361,000. The duty is at the same time much higher than in England, where the revenue from coffee was only £200,000. On the other hand, tea yields only £36,000 duty in Germany, but in England £3,700,000; wine and spirits in Germany £517,000, in England £7,500,000; tobacco, in Germany £821,000, in England £7,800,000.

The German customs tariff serves as a protective duty for several industrial products, although in general a free-trade policy has prevailed in Germany during the last ten years. In 1873 the duties on iron were abolished; still its importation, owing to the stagnation of trade, has not increased. The following is a statement of the produce of the duties on specific manufactured articles in 1878 :— [table]

In 1879, however, Germany has suddenly returned to an extreme protective system. The present import duties are much increased, and duties are imposed on many articles hitherto duty free. The Government hopes to make a gross revenue of about £8,000,000 by the new customs.

Excise.— The excise duties on articles of consumption have for the most part been considerably increased since 1872, especially the duty on sugar. The tax on tobacco is, however, still trifling (in 1877, £47,000). Bavaria, Würtemberg, and Baden are exempt from the duties both on spirits and on malt, Alsace-Lorraine from that on spirits.

Receipts from Excise Duties. [table]

Funds of the Empire.— The extraordinary funds, from which very large sums appear annually in the budget, were created after the French war. Part of the indemnity was invested for fixed purposes. The largest of these investments served for paying the pensions of the invalided, and amounted originally to £28,000,000. Every year not only the interest, but also part of the capital of this fund is expended in paying these pensions. Another fund, of about £5,200,000, serves for the construction and armament of fortresses; a third for building new houses of parliament; a fourth for the construction of railways in Alsace-Lorraine. Further, the empire has put aside £6,000,000 as a Reichs-Kriegs-Schatz, or imperial war reserve fund, which is not laid out at interest, but exists in coined gold and bullion at Spandau. The railways in Alsace-Lorraine are also the property of the’empire,—France having paid an allowance to the Eastern Railway Company of £13,000,000 for the railways brought under the control of Germany. The following table shows the state of the imperial funds at 1st March 1878 :— [table]

Imperial Debts.— The loans contracted by the North German Confederation for the war with France have long since been paid off. The extraordinary expenditure of the empire was for several years paid out of the French indemnity, but that resource is now exhausted. Accordingly, for defraying the expenses of the army and navy, the extension of the subterranean telegraphs, &c., two new loans had to be raised in 1877 and 1878, amounting to £8,760,800. There exists, besides, an unfunded debt. The law allows the imperial chancellor to effect an issue of bills of exchequer for short terms to the extent of £7,500,000, and these are destined partly for the expenses of administration, and partly for the completion of the monetary reform. Since 1874 also a debt bearing no interest has been created in imperial treasury bills (Reichscassenscheine), which are to be substituted for the paper currency issued by the separate states. At that date only four states—Lippe, Lübeck, Hamburg, and Bremen —had no paper currency. Prussia had in 1872 only £3,000,000 of paper currency, or 2s. 6d. a head, but in the minor states the proportion was higher,—reaching in Saxe-Coburg-Gotha 10'3s. a head, in Anhalt 14s., in Mecklenburg-Strelitz 24'7s., and in Schaumburg-Lippe the very high figure of 34'8s. This inconvenience was remedied by an imperial law, ordering the states, to call in their paper currency, and replacing it by the issue of imperial treasury bi∏s, amounting to £6,000,000. For many, of the smaller states this sudden withdrawal of their paper currency was too severe an ordeal. Accordingly, to these a further sum was advanced for a term of years in treasury bills; £8, 338,000 was thus in circulation on the 30th September 1878.

Reform of the Currency.— The German empire adopted a gold currency by the law of the 4th December 1871. Subsequently the old local coinages (Landesmünzen) began to be called in and replaced by new gold and silver coins. The old gold coins, amounting to £4,550,000, had been called in as early as 1873; and the old silver coins have also been successively put out of circulation, so that none actually now remain as legal tenders but the thaler (3s. ). Silver currency to the amount of £52,000,000 had been withdrawn up to the 30th September 1878, and copper coins to £157,600. To replace these there were coined up till the 30th September 1878—gold pieces, £81,900,000; silver coins, £21,330,000; nickel and copper, £2,237,800. The currency reform was at first facilitated by the French indemnity, a great part of which was paid in gold. But later on that metal became scarcer; the London gold prices ran higher and higher, while silver declined. The average rate per ounce of standard silver in 1866-70 was 60∣d., in January 1875 only 57⅛d., in July 1876 as low as 49d. It rose in January 1877 to 57⅜d., but again declined, and in September 1878 it was 50∣d. While, therefore, the proportion of like weights of fine gold and fine silver in 1866-70 averaged 1 to 15'55, it was 1 to 17'79 in 1876, and 1 to 17'18 in 1877, and the difference again increased in 1878.

Banking.— A new banking law was promulgated for the whole empire· on the 14th March 1875. Before that date there existed 32 banks with the privilege of issuing notes, and on the 31st December 1872 £67,100,000 in all was in circulation, £25,100,000 of that sum being uncovered. The banking law was designed to reduce this circulation of notes; £19,250,000 was fixed as an aggregate maximum of uncovered notes of the banks. The private banks were at the same time obliged to erect branch offices in Berlin or Frankfort for the payment of their notes. In consequence of this regulation 13 banks resigned the privilege of issuing notes, so that at present there are in Germany but 19 note-issuing banks of which 5 belong to South Germany (Frankfort included). The Imperial Bank (Reichsbank) ranks far above the others in importance. It took the place of the Prussian Bank in 1876, and is under the superintendence and management of the empire, which shares in the profits. Its head office is in Berlin, and it is entitled to erect branch offices in any part of the empire. It has a capital of £6,000,000 in shares of £150. The following table exhibits the position of the German Reichsbank as compared with the other 18 banks at the 30th September 1878 :— [table]

Subjoined is a comparison with the great banks of England, France, and Austria at the same date :— [table]

Finances of the separate States.— The budgets of the different German states are so variously arranged that it is difficult to group them on uniform principles. We extract the following particulars from the scheme published by Prof. H. Wagner in the Almanach de Gotha for 1874. The expenses and receipts of the empire and those of the separate states are in the two tables taken together. The first table contains the net expenses for 1872-73, the charges of collection being deducted :— .... i ,,, [table]

Professor Wagner’s second table gives the principal items of revenue :— [table]

In the absence of tnistworthy statistics the local taxes have not been taken into consideration in the above table. These, however, are very considerable in many cities in Germany, in consequence of recent expenditure on schoolhouses, sewage-works, &c.

A comparison of the foregoing tables with the corresponding statistics tor the United Kingdom (1874) gives the following result. The payments on account of the national debt in Great Britain formed 42 ’ 2 per cent, of the total expenditure after deducting the charges of collection; in Germany only 18'14 per cent. The army and navy in England absorb 39'3 per cent, of the expenditure (or 68'0 per cent, after deducting the charges of debt), in Germany 35'6 per cent, (or 43'7). The expenses of the national debt in England are about 17s. a head, in Germany about 5s. The expenses of the army and navy in England are about 16s. a head, in Germany 9s. The public property in domains and forests is greater in Germany than in any other state of Europe, the area of the state forests being no less than 17,600 square miles. Many of the smaller states defray more than one-half of their expenditure by the revenue from domains and forests. From this source Germany is able to meet nearly one-fifth of her expenditure (17'3 per cent. ), whereas in England only 0 '6 per cent, is thus obtained. On the other hand, the expenses incurred by Germany for the civil lists and for annuities to the princely families are very considerable. Germany pays 3 '6 per cent, of the national income to her princes, Great Britain only 1 '04 per cent. In the minor states the princely households.absorb 10 to 12 per cent, of the expenditure. The proceeds of establishments managed by the state cover 17'5 per cent, of the whole expenditure in Germany, but only 2'5 in England. The proportion of direct to indirect taxes is in England as 17 to 83, in Germany as 31 to 69. But on the whole the English are taxed twice as heavily as the Germans. The gross revenue in England was, in 1874, 42s. a head, in Germany 16'2s.; of these sums 13'2s. came, in England, from customs duties, and 13'3s. from excise on spirits and malt (apart from the customs duties), while in Germany the corresponding figures were only 3s. and 2 '4s.

A considerable part of the public debt of the separate states was paid off by them after the war. In 1873 the total amount of all debts of the German states was only about £171,000,000. In this sum was included £9,500,000 of currency. The greater part of this liability has been incurred for productive purposes, particularly for the construction of railways. The railway debts (which are not directly charged on the population) were in 1873 about £96,500,000. Since then some states have gone on reducing their debts still further; Prussia, for example, has. done so by more than £11,000,000. Others again, such as Bavaria, Saxony, Wurtemberg, and Baden have contracted new loans for constructing railways, or, as Saxony, for purchasing them. The entire debt of all the German states, including the imperial debt, at 31st December 1877, may be estimated at £220,000,000, of which sum, however, more than £140,000,000 consists of railway debt. The average sum per head will accordingly be £5, whereas in Great Britain it is £23 to £24. When the railway debts are deducted the proportion is less than £2 a head in Germany.

Army and Navy.

By the constitution of 16th April 1871 every German is liable to service (wehrpflichtig), and no substitution is allowed (art. 57). Every German capable of bearing arms (wehrfähig) has to serve in the standing army for seven years—as a rule from the end of the twentieth till the commencement of the twenty-eighth year of his age. Three of these seven years he must spend in active service, and the remainder in the reserve; after quitting the latter he forms part of the landwehr for five years more—the full time of military service thus being twelve years. The strength of the army on a peace footing (friedensfuss) was fixed in the army bill of 1874 at 401,659 (or say 1 per cent, of the population at the census of 1871) for a term of seven years ending the 31st December 1881. The number of recruits levied annually is 145,000 men. All young men who reach a certain fixed standard of higher school training, however, are obliged to serve only for one year in the active army, and these are not included in the effective strength of the army on a peace footing. Collaterally with the army there has existed since 1875 the landsturm, to which all men liable to service and capable of bearing arms, between the ages of seventeen and forty-two, belong, if they are neither in the line, the reserve, the landwehr, nor the marine. The landsturm is only called to arms in the event of a hostile invasion of the imperial territory being threatened or effected.

By the articles of the constitution the whole of the land forces of the empire form a united army in war and peace under the orders of the emperor. The sovereigns of the chief states are entitled to nominate the lower grades of officers, and the king of Bavaria has reserved to himself the special privilege of superintending thegeneral administration of the two Bavarian corps d’armée; but all appointments are made subject to the emperor’s approval. The 64th article of the constitution enacts that all German troops are bound to obey unconditionally the orders of the emperor, and to take the oath of allegiance accordingly. The emperor is empowered to erect fortresses in any part of the empire.

Organization of the Army.— The imperial army consists of 18 army corps, viz., the Prussian garde-du-corps, 13 Prussian corps (including the troops of the minor states in military convention with Prussia—Nos. 1 to 11 being Prussian, while Nos. 14 and 15 are the Baden and Alsace-Lorraine corps respectively), the Saxon corps (No. 12), the Wurtemberg corps (No. 13), and the 2 Bavarian corps. One army “inspection” comprises from 3 to 4 corps. Generally 1 army corps consists of 2 divisions, each of which includes 1 horse and 2 foot brigades. As a rule the infantry brigade consists of 2 infantry regiments and 2 landwehr regiments, the cavalry brigade of from 2 to 3 cavalry regiments. An infantry regiment consists of 3 battalions of 4 companies each; a cavalry regiment has 5 squadrons. There are many exceptions, however, to these rules, e.g., the garde-du-corps. and the Saxon corps d’armée consist each of 1 cavalry and 2 infantry divisions, the 11th contains 3 divisions, &c. Some divisions also are stronger than others. Altogether the German army numbers 40 divisions, of which 6 are infantry, 3 cavalry, and 31 both combined. There are in all 74 infantry and 38 cavalry brigades, and 148 infantry and 93 cavalry regiments.

Besides the troops above named, each army corps generally includes (a) 1 jäger or light battalion (the Bavarian army has, however, 10 of them); (δ) 1 field artillery brigade; (c) 1 foot artillery regiment; (d) 1 engineer battalion; (e) 1 train battalion. The garde-du-corps has, in addition, two railway battalions, 1 instruction infantry battalioiï (Lehrbataillon), &c. The several field artillery-brigades are not uniformly constituted, but in 12 of the 18 army corps the brigade consists of 2 artillery regiments. One of these with 8 batteries is attached to the division, while the other remains under the orders of the corps commander. This latter consists of 2 sections (Abtheilungen) of 3 batteries each, and a mounted division of 3 batteries. Each battery has as a rule 4 guns. A foot artillery regiment has 2 battalions of 4 companies each. There are in all 36 field artillery regiments with 301 batteries and 1206 guns, and 13 foot artillery regiments. In war time several corps are combined, as “armies,” the entire military force consisting then of the field or battle army, the reserve or supplementary troops (Ersatztruppen), and the garrison troops (Besatzungstruppen).

The following tables exhibit the strength of the German army on a peace footing and on a war footing respectively.

There are other 25,975 men who are not included in the latter sum-total but whose cost is defrayed by army grants. They include 4653 physicians, 838 veterinary surgeons, 1600 paymasters, &c. Nor does the table take account of the troops of the field reserve and of the landsturm, regarding the organization of which no details have been published; the former, which is drawn from the landwehr, is estimated at 250,000 men. It is calculated that Germany may put in arms at any given time two millions and a half of armed men without having recourse to the last reserves. The maximum strength of the army in the war with France was 1,350,787 men and 263,753 horses.

Strength of the Imperial Army. [table] [table]

Fortresses. —ξ>ince the Franco-German war the fortress system has been entirely remodelled. A number of old and useless fortresses have been dismantled; several new ones have been erected along the sea-coast; and most of those flanking the land frontiers have been enlarged. The empire is divided into nine fortress districts, each including a certain number of fortified places. The Baltic coast fortresses are Memel, Pillau, Dantzic (first-class fortress), Colberg, Swinemünde, Stralsund, Travemünde, Kiel, Friedrichsort, Sonderburg-Düppel. On the North Sea are Wilhelmshaven and the fortresses by which the mouths of the Elbe, Weser, and Ems are guarded. The eastern frontier is protected by the first-class fortresses of Königsberg, Dantzic, Thorn, and Posen; and by the secondary ones of Marienburg and Dirschau on the Vistula, and of Glogau on the Oder, which are especially intended for the protection of the railways. For the southern frontier there exist only the fortresses of Neisse, Glatz, and Königstein on the Elbe. The old inland fortresses have been abolished, except the first-class ones of Küstrin, Magdeburg, ►Spandau, and (for railway protection) Torgau on the Elbe. Ulm and Ingolstadt on the Danube, both first-class fortresses, are also maintained. On the western frontier Strasburg and Metz have been fortified by a wide range of outer fortifications, and there is besides an outer line of smaller fortified places, consisting of New Breisach, Bitsch, Saarlouis, and Thionville. A second line runs along the Rhine, where there are large fortresses serving as encampments at Rastadt, Mainz, Coblentz, and Cologne, and smaller ones fur the protection of the Rhine bridges at Germersheim, Ehrenbreitstein opposite Coblentz, Düsseldorf, and λVesel. The empire thus possesses 16 fortified places of the first class serving as camps, and 27 other fortresses.

Navy.— The German navy is but of recen; origin. In 1843 the German people urged the construction of a fleet. Money was collected, and a few men-of-war were fitted out; but these were subsequently sold, the German Bundestag (federal council) not being in sympathy with the aspirations of the nation. Prussia, however, began laying the foundations of a small navy. To meet the difficulty arising from the want of good harbours in the Baltic, a small extent of territory near Jahde Bay was bought from Oldenburg in 1854, for the purpose of establishing a war-port there. Its construction is now practically completed, although at enormous expense, and it was opened for ships by the emperor in June 1869 under the name of Wilhelmshaven. In 1864 Prussia, by annexing Holstein, obtained possession of the excellent port of Kiel, which has since been strongly fortified. From the time of the formation of the North German confederation the navy has belonged to the common federal interest. Since 1st October 1867 all its ships have carried the same flag,—black, white, red, with the Prussian eigle and the iron cross.

From 1848 to 1868 the increase of the navy was slow. In 1851 it consisted of 51 ships with 188 guns (among which there were, however, 36 small gunboats of 2 guns each), and with 1180 hands in all. Tn 1868 it consisted of 89 vessels of 563 guns, among which number there were 2 ironclads, and 43 other steamers, Since then a definite plan for the development of the navy has been set on foot, and great activity has been displayed in fitting out ships and in augmenting the personnel.

The following table shows the increase that has occurred in the navy budget since 1868: — [table]

The personnel of the navy consisted in 1878 of 965 officers and 9265 men. There are 2 sailors divisions (Matrosendivisionen) of 79 officers and 6029 seamen and boys, a ship-boys department

(Abtheilung) of 400 hands, 2 dockyard divisions (Werftdivisionen) with 148 officers and 1718 men, and 1 battalion of marines with 1035 men. The sailors and marines are levied by conscription from among the seafaring population, which is on this account exempt from service in the army. The total sea-going population of Germany is estimated at 80,000, 48,000 of whom serve in the merchant marine at home, and about 6000 in foreign service. Great inducements to enter the navy are held out to able seamen. The following table gives the state of the navy in August 1878 :— [table]

Religion.

In the official census it has been usual to ιeturn the religious creed of the inhabitants, though a few states, such as Prussia and Hamburg, omitted this particular in 1875. Official estimates indeed have been macle of the religious profession of the people in these states for 1875 also, but only the census of 1867 and that of 1871 can be accurately compared. The number of persons styling themselves of no religion, or refusing to state their religion, is very small. The following table gives the results of the three last enumerations :— [table]

Almost two-thirds of the population belong to the Evangelical Church, and rather more than a third to the Church of Rome. The dissenters are very inferior in numbers, amounting to only about 100,000 souls, but the Jewish element, represented by half a million (l¾ per cent.), is more considerable than in any other state of West, North, or South Europe. The following table gives the proportion of Protestant«, Catholics, and Jews in every 1000 inhabitants :— [table]

The Protestants have increased in number by 0 ’ 4 per cent, of the population since 1867. This increase, however, must not be attributed to conversions, but rather to the greater increase of population in the Protestant provinces of Germany as compared with the Catholic ones; though at the same time the official returns of Prussia prove that conversion to the rival communion is much more frequent with Catholics than with Protestants. Three states in Germany have a decidedly predominant Catholic population, viz·, Alsace-Lorraine, Bavaria, and Baden; and in four states the Protestant element prevails, but with 23 to 33 per cent, of Catholics, viz., Prussia, Würtemberg, Hesse, and Oldenburg. In Saxony and eighteen minor states the Catholics number only from 1 to 3 3 per cent, of the population. The following table gives the respective numbers of Protestants and Catholics according to the census of 1871 :— [table]

From the above figures little can be inferred as to the geographical distribution of the two confessions. On this point it must be borne in mind that the population of the larger towns, on account of the greater mobility of the population since the introduction of railways and the abolition of restrictions upon free settlement, has become more mixed,—Berlin, Leipsic, Hamburg, &c., showing proportionally more Catholics, and Cologne, Frankfort, Munich, &c., more Protestants than formerly. Otherwise the geographical limits of the confessions have been but little altered since the Thirty Years’ War. In the mixed territories those places which formerly belonged to Catholic princes are Catholic still, and vice versa. Hence a religious map of South Germany looks like an historical map of the 17th century. The number of localities where the two confessions exist sisle by side is small. Generally speaking, South Germany is predominantly Catholic. Some districts along the Danube (province of Bavaria, lipper Palatinate, Swabia), in southern Würtemberg and Baden, and in Alsace-Lorraine are entirely so. These territories are bordered by a broad stretch of country on the north, where Protestantism has maintained its hold since the time of the Reformation, including Baireuth or eastern Upper Franconia, Middle Franconia, the northern half of Würtemberg and Baden, with Hesse and the Palatinate. Here the average proportion of Protestants to Catholics is two to one. The basin of the Main is again Catholic from Bamberg to Aschaffenburg (western Upper Franconia and Lower Franconia). In Prussia the western and south-eastern provinces are mostly Catholic, especially the Rhine province, together with the government districts of Münster and Arnsberg. The territories of the former principality of Cleves and of the countship of Mark (comprising very nearly the basin of the Ruhr), which went to Brandenburg in 1609, must, however, be excepted. North of Münster, Catholicism is still prevalent in the territory of the former bishopric of Osnabrück. In the east, East Prussia (Ermland excepted) is purely Protestant. Catholicism was predominant a hundred years ago in all the frontier provinces acquired by Prussia in the days of Frederick the Great, but since then the German immigrants have widely propagated the Protestant faith in these districts. A prevailingly Catholic population is still found in the district of Oppeln (89 per cent.) and the countship of Glatz, in the province of Posen (64 per cent.), in the Polish-speaking “circles” of West Prussia, and in Ermland (East Prussia). In all the remaining territory the Catholic creed is professed only in the Eichsfeld on the southern border of the province of Hanover, and around Hildesheim.

Protestant Church.— The adherents of Protestantism are divided by their confessions into Reformed and Lutheran. To unite these the “church union” has been introduced in several Protestant states, as for example in Prussia and Nassau in 1817, in the Palatinate in 1818, and in Baden in 1822. Since 1817 the distinction has accordingly been ignored in Prussia, and Christians are there enumerated only as Evangelical or Catholic. The union, however, has not remained wholly unopposed,—a section of the more rigid Lutherans who separated themselves from the state church being now known as Old Lutherans. In 1866 Prussia annexed Hanover and Schleswig-Holstein, where the Protestants were Lutherans, and Hesse, where the Reformed Church had the preponderance. The inhabitants of these countries opposed the introduction of the union, but could not prevent their being subordinated to the Prussian oberkirchenrath (high church-council), the supreme court of the state church. Subsequently the official returns have been thus classified :— [table]

The separatists are thus not numbered among dissenters. A synodal constitution for the Evangelical State Church was introduced in Prussia in 1875. The oberkirchenrath retains the right of supreme management. The ecclesistical affairs of the separate provinces are directed by consistorial boards. The parishes (ypfarreierì) are grouped into dioceses (pprengel), presided over by superintendents, who are subordinate to the superintendent-general of the province. Prussia has sixteen superintendents-general. The ecclesiastical administration is similarly regulated in the other countries of the Protestant creed. Regarding the number of churches and chapels Germany has no exact statistics, but in 1867 it was estimated that there were 12,959 places of worship in Prussia.

Roman Catholic Church.— There are six archbishoprics within the German empire :—Breslau (where the archbishop has the title of prince-bishop), Gnesen-Posen, Cologne, Freiburg (Baden), Munich-Freising, and Bamberg. The eighteen bishoprics are—Ermland (see at Frauenburg, East Prussia), Kulm (see at Pelplin, West Prussia), Fulda, Hildesheim, Osnabrück, Paderborn, Münster, Limburg, Treves, Metz, Strasburg, Spires, Würzburg, Ratisbon, Passau, Eichstädt, Augsburg, Rottenburg (Würtemberg). An apostolic vicariate exists in Dresden. In recent years numerous convents, especially in Prussia, have been suppressed. The order of the Jesuits is interdicted in Germany.

Old Catholics.— After the infallibility of the pope had been proclaimed as a dogma by the Vatican council in 1871, several communities as well as individuals declared their secession from the Roman Church. They are called Old Catholics, and they have selected a bishop who has been acknowledged by most of the states. At the 1st of January 1877 the denomination had 121 congregations with 56 clergymen and 16,557 adult male adherents, so that we may fairly estimate the total number of Old Catholics at a little more than 50,000.

The number of Greek Catholics was 2660 in 1871.

Dissenters.— There is no uniformity in the state returns of the several denominations, and detailed statements are wanting for Würtemberg, Alsace-Lorraine, and eight of the lesser states. In the sixteen remaining states there were in 1875 21,000 Mennonites (particularly in East and West Prussia and the Palatinate), 10,451 Baptists, 3000 Irvingites, 4000 Herrnhuter (Moravian brethren), and 1600 members of the Church of England. The Mennonites had increased from 14,000 in 1871. Besides these there were about 6800 German Catholics, 3600 Freethinkers, and more than twenty-five sects represented by from 100 to Õ00 members.

Jews.— It is in the towns that the Jewish element is chiefly to be found. They belong principally to the mercantile class, and are to a very large extent dealers in money. Within J,he last thirty years their wealth has grown to an extraordinary degree. They are increasingly numerous in Hamburg, Berlin, Frankfort, Breslau, Königsberg, and Fürth. Though still, in fact at least, if not also by law, excluded from many public offices, especially from commands in the army, they nevertheless are very powerful in Germany, the press being for the most part in their hands. Some towns of the Marienwerder and Posen districts contain from 20 to 30 per cent, of Jews. By far the greater number are found among the Slavs in the east; in the west they appear chiefly in Hesse, Baden, and Alsace.

Languages.

The German-speaking nations in their various branches and dialects are found to extend in a compact mass along the shores of the Baltic and of the North Sea, from Memel in the east to a point between Gravelines and Calais near the Straits of Dover. On this northern line the Germans come in contact with the Danes who inhabit the northern parts of Schleswig within the limits of the German empire. A line from opposite Sonderburg in the isle of Alsen to Tondern in the west will nearly form the boundary between the two idioms. The German-French frontier traverses Belgium from west to east, touching the towns of St Omer, Courtrai, and Maastricht. Near Eupen, south of Aix-la-Chapelle, it turns southward, and near Arlon south-east as far as the crest of the Vosges mountains, which it follows up to Belfort, traversing there the watershed of the Rhine and the Doubs. In the Swiss territory the line of demarcation passes through Biel, Freiburg, Saanen, Leuk, and Monte Rosa. In the south the Germans come into contact with Rhaeto-Romans and Italians, the former inhabiting the valley of the Vorder-Rlιein and the Engadine, while the latter have settled on the southern slopes of the Alps, and are continually advancing up the valley of the Adige. Carinthia and Styria are inhabited by German people, except the valley of the Drave towards Klagenfurt. Their eastern neighbours there are first the Magyars, then the northern Slavs and the Poles. The whole eastern frontier is very much broken, and cannot be described in a few words. Besides detached German colonies in Hungary, the western parts of that country are held by Germans. The river March is the frontier north of the Danube from Presburg as far as Brünn, to the north of which the German regions begin near Olmütz,—the interior of Bohemia and Moravia being occupied by Czechs and Moravians. In the Prussian provinces of Silesia and Posen the eastern parts are mixed territories, the German language progressing slowly among the Poles. In Bromberg and Thorn, in the valley of the Vistula, German is prevalent. In West Prussia some parts of the interior, and in East Prussia a small region along the Russian frontier, are occupied by Poles (Kassubians in West Prussia, Masurians in East Prussia). The German tongue is also fast invading the Lithuanian territory, and in a short time no people speaking that idiom will be found to the left of the river Memel. The total number of German-speaking people, within the boundaries wherein they constitute the compact mass of the population, may be estimated, if the Dutch and the Flemings be included, at 56 millions.

The geographical limits of the German language thus do not quite coincide with the German frontiers. The empire contains about 3∣ millions of persons who do not make use of German iu everyday life, not counting the 290,000 resident foreigners. The non-German languages have their representatives only in Prussia, Saxony, and Alsace-Lorraine. No census since 1861 has given the statistics of the different languages spoken in the first-mentioned country; and, in regard to Alsace-Lorraine also, the figures are based upon estimates only. The following table gives the results of semi-official estimates for 1875 :— [table]

From this it will be observed that the Poles form a considerable part of the population,—about 60 ’ 1 percent, in the district of Oppeln, 59’3 in Posen, 49'6 iu Bromberg, 37'8 in Marienwerder, 27 - 3 in Dantzic, 21’9 in Gumbinnen, 17*1 in Königsberg, and 4 - 3 in Breslau. The Wends, who inhabit Lusatia, are decreasing in number,—in the Saxon district there were 52,097 in 1871, and in 1875 only 50,737. The Lithuanians are likewise diminishing on the eastern border of East Prussia. Czechs are found only in Silesia on the confines of Bohemia. The French are represented in Lorraine and Upper Alsace, and on the Belgian frontier.

Education.

In point of intellectual culture Germany ranks high. Much is done by the Government for the promotion both of primary and of secondary education; there are no exact statistics, however, of the educational establishments, or of the expenditure incurred in -connexion with them. In regard to the latter the sums which figure in the Government budgets are not the only contributions which must be considered; for in most of the states the several local communities provide from their own resources for primary instruction and for many of the higher schools, while many of the superior institutes have funds of their own not included in the budget School instruction is obligatory on the whole people, but in many districts there is still a scarcity of teachers and some want of efficient controL The total number of primary schools is estimated at 60,000, and that of pupils at 6,500,000, or 150 pupils to every 1000 inhabitants. Some provinces exhibit a larger proportion; in Saxony, Thuringia, Brunswick, Rhineland, and Westphalia there are from 165 to 175 pupils to every 1000 inhabitants. In Bavaria, Posen, East and West Prussia, Brandenburg, on the other hand, there are only from 120 to 130. A good criterion of the school instruction is to be found in the statistics of the annual levies of recruits. The following table shows the number of recruits during the years 1876-78 who were unable to read and write :— [table]

It will be seen from the above that the number of illiterate recruits has considerably decreased during the last three years. The figures given compare very favourably with those of other European countries. In 1872 the number of illiterates was 4 ’ 6 per cent, in the army, and 2 ’ 3 in the navy, the corresponding numbers in France being 23 and 14 per cent. In England 23 per cent, of the marines could neither read nor write in 1865, 4 per cent, could only read, and 37 per cent, could write but imperfectly. In Austria only 28 per cent, of the recruits could write, and in Russia scarcely 10 per cent, had any school education. But the provinces of Germany differ much from one another in this respect. Education is very inferior in the eastern Polish districts. During the three years from 1875-78 in the districts of Posen, Bromberg, and Oppeln there were in all 10 ’ 7, 9∙24, 8O2 per cent, of illiterates among the recruits, in the provinces of West and East Prussia 8 ’ 77, 8 ’ 66, 7 ’ 80. After these the rate takes a long leap to 3 - 18, 3 ’ 17, 1 ’ 9∙1 in Alsace-Lorraine and the Palatinate. In 1877-78 there was no considerable district in Germany which sent so many as 1 per cent, of illiterates. The most satisfactory state of matters is to be found in Saxony, Thuringia, Baden, and Würtemberg, and especially in the last two. Wurtemberg had only one recruit among 6000 that was unable to read.

The census in Prussia in 1871 proves primary school instruction to be much better among the Protestants than among the Catholics, as will be seen in the following table :— [table]

Unremitting attention is being paid to the improvement of primary schools (yolksschulen), although many of the eastern districts are still destitute of these in the rural localities. Not long ago the position of teachers of primary schools was very unsatisfactory; and the supply of masters was unequal to the demand. In recent years much has been done in all the states to effect a reform on this state of matters. In 1875 there were 170 seminaries in Germany for the training of schoolmasters. But this number is insufficient, for it may be estimated that 5000 to 6000 new appointments are required annually, if one master is not to have charge of more than 60 children. Saxony has the greatest number of institutions of this kind (15). Within the last few years many municipalities have begun to found schools of a somewhat higher rank for the lower classes of the town population, called middle schools.

There are four different kinds of schools for the higher branches of education. The gymnasia supply preparatory trainingfor the universities, the foremost place in the course of instruction being assigned to the classical languages; but French, English, and mathematics are also taught, and some attention is given to natural science, history, and geography. Their constitution dates back to very remote times, and but few and slight alterations have been made in their schemes of study since the beginning of the present century. Officials, judges, clergymen, teachers, and physicians for the most part receive their early education at the gymnasia. In 1878 there were 360 gymnasia in Germany, or 1 for every 600 square miles and every 117,000 in. habitants. Central Germany has the largest proportion, 1 for every 75,000 inhabitants. To these must be added the progymnasia, about 90 in number. The same studies are prosecuted in these, but the highest classes of a gymnasium are wanting. Of more recent growth is the system of realschulen, where Latin is the only ancient language taught, the other branches being modern languages, especially French and English, mathematics and natural philosophy, geography, and modern history. These schools have long enjoyed great popularity. They are classified as of the first and of the second order. In the former a pupil remains generally for nine or ten years, as in the gyιhnasia; and those who pass the highest examination are allowed to enter the universities, but only to study the modern languages, mathematics, and natural sciences. In 1878 there were 129 realschulen of the first order, mainly in Saxony, Rhineland, Berlin, and Hanover. The realschulen of the second order prepare pupils for those professions which do not require a university course. On the average a pupil leaves school in the seventeenth year of his age. Besides these institutions, which are increasing every year, there is a considerable number of technical schools (gewerbeschulen). Their purpose is purely industrial; drawing, mechanics, mathematics, physics, and chemistry are among the subjects of instruction, languages being excluded. There are, moreover, schools of commerce, navigation, and agriculture in different towns. The military law relating to the one year’s volunteers has had an important influence on the attendance at all these institutions. In 1879 there were 878 schools with the privilege of furnishing pass certificates to such volunteers; of these 360 were gymnasia, 129 were realschulen, and about 40 were private schools. Exact and uniform statistics of the higher schools do not as yet exist. Many of the last-mentioned institutions are maintained partly or entirely at the expense of the municipalities, and by far the greater number are denominational, Protestant ones prevailing. The following table shows the number of Prussian schools in 1875 maintained severally by the Government, by the municipalities, and by other funds :—. [table]

Universities and Higher Technical Schools.— Germany owes its large number of universities, and its widely diffused higher education to its former subdivision into many separate states. Only a few of the universities date their existence from the present century; the majority of them are very much older. Each of the larger provinces, except Posen, has at least one university, the entire number at present being 21. All have four faculties except Münster, which has no faculties of law and medicine. As regards theology, Bonn, Breslau, and Tübingen have both a Protestant and a Catholic faculty; Freiburg, Munich, Münster, and Würzburg are exclusively Catholic; and all the rest are Protestant. The following table gives the names of the 21 universities, the dates of their respective foundations, the number of their professors and other teachers, and of the students attending their lectures during the summer session 1878, arranged according to the numbers in attendance :—

[table]

A number of technical high schools rank along with the universities; they all took their rise in the course of the present century, and usually bear the name of Polytechni-cum. To the number of these belong the academies of industry (founded 1821) and of architecture (1798) in Berlin, and the polytechnica at Hanover, Brunswick, Aix-la-Chapelle, Darmstadt, Carlsruhe, Stuttgart, Munich, and Dresden.

Among the remaining higher technical schools may be mentioned the mining academies of Freiberg in Saxony, of Berlin, and of Clausthal in the Hara, and the academies of forestry at Neustadt-Eberswalde, Münden on the Weser, Tharand near Dresden, and Hohenheim near Stuttgart, and at Brunswick, Eisenach, Giessen, and Carlsruhe. Schools of agriculture have also been attached to several universities, the most important being at Berlin, Halle, Göttingen, Königsberg, Jena, Poppelsdorf near Bonn, Munich, and Leipsic.

Libraries.— Mental culture and a general diffusion of knowledge are extensively promoted by means of numerous public libraries established in the capitals, the university towns, and other places. The most celebrated public libraries are those of Berlin (800,000 volumes), Munich (800,000 volumes and 22,000 manuscripts), Göttingen, Dresden, Stuttgart, Hamburg, Strasburg, Frankfort-on-theMain, Breslau, Gotha, and Wolfenbüttel.

Societies. — There are also numerous societies and unions, some being of an exclusively scientific character, and others being designed for the popular diffusion of useful knowledge. The academies of science in Berlin, Munich, Göttingen, and Leipsic are Government institutions. Ample provision is made for scientific collections of all kinds in almost all places of any importance, either at the public expense or through private munificence.

Observatories. — These have in recent years been considerably augmented. There are 22 observatories in the empire, viz., at Altona, Berlin, Bonn, Bothkamp in Schleswig, Breslau, Dantzic, Düsseldorf, Gotha, Göttingen, Hamburg, Kiel, Königsberg, Leipsic, Lübeck, Mannheim, Marburg, Munich, Potsdam, Schwerin, Spires, Strasburg, and Wilhelmshaven.

Book Trade.— This branch of industry, from the important position it has gradually acquired since the time of the Reformation, is to be regarded as at once a cause and a result of the mental culture of Germany. Leipsic is the centre of the trade. The number of booksellers in Germany was not less than 519θ in 1878, among whom were 1546 publishers. The following table will show the recent progress of German literary production, and its proportion to that of other European states :— [table]

Newspapers.— While in England a few important newspapers have an immense circulation, the newspapers of Germany are much more numerous, but individually command a far more limited sale. Leaving out of account insignificant local papers, Germany in 1878 possessed 600 newspapers published daily, or two to three times a week; of these only 90 were published in South Germany. Berlin alone produces 44 newspapers. Most readers receive their newspapers through the post-office or at their clubs, which may help to explain the smaller number of copies sold. Only 50 of the 600 daily newspapers print more than 10,000 copies, and only 20 more than 20,000.

Fine Arts.— There are many academies which have for their object the promotion of a taste for painting, sculpture, architecture, and music, and the improvement of the technique of art. The largest academy is now that of Berlin. The three schools of painting (m,alerschulen) are represented by the academies of Berlin, Munich, and Düsseldorf. Other academies for painting are to be found in Dresden, Carlsruhe, Weimar, and Königsberg. The chief musical academy is at Leipsic. Numerous museums of art and collections of pictures exist in the country, but there is no concentration of these as in London or Paris. Although the collections in Berlin have of late years been considerably enriched, they do not equal in their number of celebrated originals the galleries of Dresden, Munich, and Cassel. An archaeological institute is maintained by the imperial Government at Rome and at Athens, and recently Germany has done much for the advancement of archaeology by the part she has taken in the excavations at Olympia.

Bibliography. Maps.— The topographical maps of Prussia and of some North German states (scale 1:100,000) are not yet quite completed. The South German states have for the greater part finished their topographical maps, scale 1:50,000. Other good special maps, though not quite completed, are—the maps of Central Europe by Reymann (1:200,000) and by Liebenow (1:300,000), and of Germany by Stieler (1:750,000) and by Ravenstein (1:800,000).

Physical Geography.— There is still wanting a sufficiently detailed work on the physical geography of Germany as a whole, although there are some excellent descriptions of the separate provinces. For general information we may mention—Cotta, Deutschland's Boden, 2 vols., 1853; Daniel, Deutschland , 1878; Kutzen, Das deutsche Land; Von Klöden, Geographisches Handbuch, vol. ii., 1875; Neumann, Das deutsche Reich, 2 vols., 1874; Peschel and Andree, Atlas der deutschen Reiches, 2 parts, 1876-78.

Statistics.— Since the year 1871 there has been established in Berlin an imperial office for statistics which does excellent work. Most of the figures in the foregoing article have been derived from these official returns. From 1871 to 1878 the same office has published 30 volumes in 4to, under the title of Statistik des deutschen Reiches und Monatshefte der Statistik des deutschen Reiches. But the returns do not give statistics under all the heads in which the separate states collect them. Much valuable geographical, statistical, and topographical information is given in Neumann’s Das deutsche Reich. The most recent summaries are to be found year by year in the Almanach de Gotha. Topography.— Rudolph’s Vollständiges Ortslexicon von Deutschland, 2 vols. 1870, is exact and very ample. The separate states have published lists of all places (towns, villages, hamlets, farms), according to the census of 1871. Das Reichs-Postgebiet, issued by the General Post-Office, 1878, containing about 7000 places, exclusive of Würtemberg and Bavaria, forms an excellent topographical and statistical handbook. (H. WA.) PART II.—HISTORY OF GERMANY. By James Sime. Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year 1879, by Adam & Charles Black, Edinburgh, Scotland, in the office of the Λiiaister of Agriculture. Ancient Times.

The people whom we call “the Germans,” and who call themselves “die Deutschen,” are a branch of the Teutonic race, which, again, belongs to the great Aryan family. At what time the Teutons broke away from their Aryan kinsfolk we have no means of knowing. In the 4th century B,c., when they are first mentioned, they were settled along the shores of the Baltic Sea; but long before that time the race must have scattered itself far and wide over the countries now known as Scandinavia and Germany, and the Scandinavians and the Germans were gradually marked off from each other by important differences in language, in customs, and in institutions.

At the time of Tacitus, whose Germania is our chief authority as to the condition of ancient Germany, central Europe was in the possession of a large number of German tribes. These tribes did not call themselves by a common name. The word “German” is of Celtic origin, meaning, according to some philologers, “shouters,” according to others, “neighbours.” It seems to have been applied by the Gauls in the first instance to a particular German tribe with which they were in conflict, and afterwards to the whole people. The word “Deutsch” (Goth., Thiuda i the people) does not occur till the 9th century, and was not used in the sense now given to it for some time later. Although without a common name, the ancient Germans believed that they had a common origin, all of them regarding as their forefather Mannus, the first man, the son of the god Tuisco. Mannus was supposed to have had three sons, from whom had sprung the Istaevones, the Ingaevones, and the Herminones. These groups were without political significance, but they seem to have marked real distinctions. The Istaevones were the tribes with whom the Romans were brought most into contact, occupying, as they did, both banks of the Rhine. The lands held by those of them on the left bank were divided by the Romans into “Germania Superior” and “Germania Inferior,” the chief tribe of the latter being the CJbii, who had an important settlement on the site of what is now Cologne. On the right bank, from the Lippe to the Ruhr, were the Usipetes and Tencteri, and to the north of them the Sicambri and the Bructeri; the land now called Hesse appears to have been inhabited by the Chatti. On the island formed by the Meuse and an arm of the Rhine were'the Batavi. The second great group, the Ingaevones, among whom were the Frisii, the Chauci, and the Cherusci, were settled along the shores of the North Sea, and inland along the banks of the Weser and the Ems. The Herminones were much more numerous than either of the two other groups; they held the greater part of central and eastern Germany, reaching as far as the Vistula and the Carpathians. Most prominent among them were the Suevi, a great confederation of tribes which included the Marcomanni, the dwellers in what is now Bohemia, and the Semnones, who held what is now Lusatia and Brandenburg. Other Herminones were the Hermunduri, in and around the Thuringian forest; the Lombards, at the mouth of the Elbe; the Vandals, at the upper parts of the same river; the Heruli, to the west of the Vistula; and the Quadi, in what is now Moravia.

The ancient Germans were a tall and vigorous race, with long fair hair and what Tacitus calls “fiercely blue eyes.” They wore mantles of fur or of coarse woollen stuff, thrown over the shoulders and fastened by a thorn or a pin. Their dwellings were wooden huts of slight construction, the inner walls of which they roughly coloured, and in which cattle were sometimes accommodated with the family.

War and the chase were the favourite occupations of the men; and when engaged neither in fighting nor in hunting they often lay idly by the hearth, leaving peaceful work to women and to males incapable of bearing arms. They liked social gatherings, but after a time conversation usually gave place to drunkenness, quarrelling, or excessive gambling. Although violent and cruel in moments of excitement, they were rarely treacherous, and in the ordinary intercourse of life they appear to have been kindly and considerate. They cherished the memory of illustrious ancestors, and listened often and with delight to songs celebrating their famous deeds.

The bulk of the people were freemen, who alone exercised political rights. They inherited their position, and the sign of their dignity was that they always carried arms. A limited class of freemen were nobles, whose sole privilege seems to have been that they were more respected on account of their birth than their neighbours, and more easily acquired a leading place in public life. Each freeman had slaves, who were chiefly prisoners of war and their offspring, and persons condemned to slavery for crime. They had no legal rights as against their owners, but in practice they were well treated. The Liti, composed mostly of freedmen, stood between freemen and slaves. A freeman necessarily either possessed land or was a member of a family that did; the Liti could only hold land of a superior with whom they shared the produce. If any one killed a noble, a freeman, or one of the Liti, he had to pay to the relatives a fine called afterwards the wergeld, and the amount was determined by the class to which the murdered man belonged.

Great importance was attributed to family relations. Instead of the bridegroom looking for a dowry, he was expected to present his bride with a valuable gift which should remain her property throughout life. The wife was completely subject to her husband, and if she proved unfaithful, custom allowed him to cut off her hair and to whip her through the village in which she lived; but this punishment had seldom to be inflicted, the German women being famous for their chastity. They were treated as friends by their husbands, who had a high respect for their judgment, and whom they often accompanied in distant expeditions. The children, over whom the father had absolute control, were hardily trained, boys being early taught the use of weapons, and girls devoting themselves to domestic duties. Relatives were held in great esteem, and, when the head of a household died, it was considered their duty to guard the interests of his family.

Many freemen lived apart from all others with their families and dependants, but the majority w ere grouped in villages. The land around a village—its “mark”— originally belonged to the community, and was periodically divided among the inhabitants. About the beginning of the Christian era, however, the arable land was mostly in the possession of individual freemen, the forests and waste places being almost the only common property. A number of villages made a hundred, and the “gau,” if the word existed so early, may have been a higher division, although it was more probably the name for the whole land of the tribe. Each village had its chief, elected by the freemen, but the important chiefs were the heads of the hundreds and the head of the tribe, whom the freemen also appointed. Some tribes had kings, but their power had no other source than that of other chiefs, nor was it more extensive; their only distinction was that they were chosen from particular noble families supposed to have sprung from the gods.

The chiefs of the hundreds aud of the tribes had the right of gathering around them bands of followers; and they never failed to exercise it, vying with each other in the number and quality of the young men whom they attracted to their sendee. These young men were generally eager for active duty, and if the tribe was at peace an adventurous chief would often give them an opportunity of distinguishing themselves by taking part in the wars of other communities. They swore to be faithful to him, and he in return supplied them with horses, with armour, and with food. The authority of the chief was extremely limited, the constitution of ancient German society being essentially democratic. Every village, hundred, and tribe had its periodical assembly, and these assemblies were attended by all freemen, no one of whom had higher rights than his fellows. Before the meeting of the assembly of the tribe, the king or other supreme chief would consult with the chiefs of the hundreds, who formed his council; but the final decision rested with the freemen, whom they could influence only by persuasion. At this assembly the chiefs were elected; and in its presence freemen clad their sons in the armour which indicated that they had attained the rights of citizenship. It declared war and made peace, permitted the chiefs with their followers u to undertake war-like expeditions, and settled all disputed cases of justice.

The army was not a distinct institution; it was made up of the whole body of freemen, all of whom were liable at any moment to be called to service. Each had a long shield and spear, the cavalry having no other armour. The infantry were provided also with missile weapons, of which they made dexterous use, and occasionally wielded clubs aud battle-axes. The men of each hundred kept together in war, and were commanded by their chief, the supreme command being undertaken by the head of the tribe, or entrusted to a “herzog” appointed by the army. In the event of several tribes uniting, a herzog was chosen by the chiefs of the allied communities. The Germans rushed upon their enemies with fury, shouting or chanting as they did so, and adding to the noise by putting their shields to their mouths. To throw away the shield in panic was perhaps the worst crime of a German; and most persons guilty of it committed suicide in an agony of remorse and shame.

The religion of the ancient Germans was essentially the same as that of their Scandinavian kinsmen, but our sources of information respecting it are few and imperfect. The highest place among the gods was held by Wuotan or Wodan, the Scandinavian Odin. The Romans identified him with Mercury, and the mediaeval German writers, in referring to him, follow their example. He was the god of the air and of the sky, and was looked upon as the giver of the fruits of the earth. He delighted in battle and in the chase, and was represented as an imposing figure in a large white mantle, riding upon a white horse. Along with him the Germans worshipped Donar, the Scandinavian Thor, to whom Tacitus seems to refer in speaking of Hercules as a German divinity. He was the god of thunder and of the weather, and was armed with a hammer or thunderbolt. In later times the Germans supposed him to be Jupiter. He presided over marriage, and controlled the operations of agriculture; and to him were sacred the oak and the mountain ash, the bear and the ram. Another great divinity was Ziu or Tiu, the Scandinavian Tyr, the god of war, whom Tacitus speaks of as Mars, and whose symbol was the sword. Tacitus says that a powerful goddess called Nerthus was worshipped on the shores of the Baltic; he also mentions Isis as a goddess of the Suevic tribes. Both names evidently refer to the same divinity. On the coasts her symbol was a ship; inland, it was a waggon; in some districts she was represented with the plough. Like Donar, she presided over marriage; she also watched over the house and the fields, was the giver and protector of children, and ruled the world of the dead. At a later time she was known to the Saxons as Fria or Frigg, to the Franks as Holda, to the Bavarians as Perchta,—the first name indicating her freedom of manner, the second her kindness, the third her splendour. In the Scandinavian mythology Frigg is the wife of Odin; and to this day, it is said, the peasants in certain parts of Low Germany speak of Fru Fricke, the wife of the wild hunter Wod. The mythology of the Germans, like that of the Scandinavians, included the three sisters of fate, two of whom were fair and good, the third dark and evil. Beneath the gods were giants, elves, and dwarfs. After death t it was believed, good men were received into Walhalla; and by good men were meant warriors who never shrank in battle—above all, warriors who died fighting. The Germans were profoundly influenced by their religious faith, and both in daily life and on special occasions attended scrupulously to the duties and precautions it was supposed to involve. Each god and goddess had his and her own festival, and their images were preserved in sacred groves. Sacrifices were offered to them, and their will was discovered by means of lots, the neighing of wild horses, and the flight of birds. Priests, without dominating the whole of life, exercised considerable influence, especially when the freemen met in public assembly, and when they were advancing against an enemy.

Roman Period.

The Cimbri and the Teutones, who appear to have wandered from the northern coasts of Germany, were the first German tribes with whom the Romans came into contact. In rather less than half a century after their final defeat by Marius, Ariovistus, a bold and powerful Suevic chief, crossed into Gaul with his followers to aid the Sequani against the Aedui. The latter were defeated, and, in reward for his services, he received from the Sequani a third of their best lands. It soon became obvious that his friendship was dangerous, and in 58 b.c. his terrified allies appealed for aid to the new proconsul, Julius Caesar, who had just inflicted a crushing defeat on the Helvetii. When Caesar sent to him proposing a personal interview, the barbarian haughtily answered that he himself had better come, which Caesar quickly did. And the issue was that the army of Ariovistus was utterly beaten, and that he escaped with difficulty, severely wounded, across the Rhine, and soon afterwards died. Caesar crossed the Rhine twice, but left no permanent mark of his invasions. He thoroughly subdued the Germans on the left bank, and from this time the whole people began to be powerfully affected by their mighty neighbours, many of them taking service in the Roman army.

The first serious attempt to conquer Germany was made by Augustus, who, after he rose to supreme power, wanted occupation for his legions. He began by conquering Rhaetia and Noricum, Celtic countries along the southern borders of Germany, extending northwards through what is now German Austria and Bavaria to the Danube. Drusus, who, with Tiberius, executed this conquest in the summer of 15 B,c., was then entrusted with the task of subduing Germany. Deciding to reach the interior of the country by means of the sea and the northern rivers, he cut a canal between the Yssel and the Rhine; and for the protection of Gaul he built no fewer than fifty forts along the latter river. Many of the tribes were at enmity with one another, and in his first expedition in 12 b.c. he was able to form an alliance with the Frisii against the Chauci and the Bructeri. In three different expeditions in the immediately following years he found other native allies, and with their help mastered so many positions that the conquest of the whole country must have seemed quite certain. After the death of Drusus in 9 b.c., Tiberius conquered the Tencteri and Usipetes; and at a lateι - time he not only subdued the Sicambri, but settled 40,000 of them at the mouth of the Rhine, where they lived under Roman rule. A good many of the Istaevones were now overcome, while others entered into a more or less compulsory alliance with Rome; and it is probable that, if great generals had represented the empire, Germany would soon have shared the fate of Gaul. Quinctilius Varus, who, in 6 A.D., was placed at the head of the Roman troops in Germany, lost all the advantages gained by his predecessors. He had held office in Syria, where he had ruled with great harshness; and fancying that he might act in the same way towards the fierce tribes of the north, he roused among them a bitter hatred of the Romans. They found in Arminius, a son of the chief of the Cherusci, a leader of extraordinary bravery and resource. He had been a Roman soldier, and had so distinguished himself— perhaps in wars against his countrymen—that he was made a citizen and knight. He formed the design of freeing his people, and soon came to a secret understanding with influential Cheruscan and other chiefs. In the year 9, in the month of September, Varus, who had been told that a northern tribe was in revolt, was led at the head of his legions into the Teutoburg Forest. Here the Germans were lying in wait for him; and everything was in their favour, the narrow defiles having caused disorder among the troops, and the ground having been made muddy by heavy rains. The battle which ensued lasted three days, during which the Romans were altogether destroyed, and Varus, in despair, killed himself by falling upon his sword.

The despairing cry of Augustus—“Varus, Varus, give me back my legions !”—testifies to the consternation which tlιis defeat caused at Rome, where it was expected that the barbarians would take a terrible revenge for the wrongs they supposed themselves to have suffered. The Germans, however, were too much occupied with internal disputes to think of any enterprise beyond their own country; and in the year 14, after Tiberius had become emperor, Rome again assumed the offensive. Germanicus, the son of Drusus, crossed the Rhine, and defeated the Marsi. He returned in the year 15, when he was joined by the Chauci and other tribes, who fought for him as zealously as his own soldiers. Thusnelda, the wife of Arminius, fell into the hands of Germanicus, and was sent as a prisoner to Rome. This intensified the hostility of the young chief, who now exerted to the utmost his vast influence to stir up against the invaders his tribe and its allies. The Teutoburg Forest was again selected as the scene of an attack; and although Arminius was not victorious, he so far injured his enemy that Germanicus was forced to retreat. The struggle was resumed in the year 16, when Germanicus gained two victories. He gained them, however, at so great a cost that he and his army had to take refuge in their ships, the greater number, of which were lost in a storm.

No sooner had the Romans been driven off than Arminius had to protect his people against an internal danger. Maroboduus, the chief of the Marcomanni, a man of great ambition, had by treachery or by open fighting made himself master of several neighbouring tribes. Arminius began to fear his designs, and after the defeat of Varus warned him of his peril by sending him the Roman general’s head. When Germanicus finally left the country, Arminius declared war against Maroboduus, broke up his kingdom, and drove him from Germany. It is possible that Arminius himself may afterwards have wished to found a great state. At any rate, a number of chiefs combined against him, and in the year 21, at the age of thirty-seven, he was killed.

Although the Romans did not again attempt on a large scale the conquest of Germany, they acquired great influence throughout the country, and they gradually obtained considerable possessions to the east of the Rhine and to the south of the Main. Among the tribes whom they forced to become their allies were the Frisians and the Batavians; and in the year 69 a formidable conspiracy against them was headed by a Batavian chief, Claudius Civilis, who, like Arminius, had been a Roman soldier. Having been embittered by ill-usage from the emperor Nero, he stirred up his countrymen, and he found a large number of allies on both banks of the Rhine. He struggled valiantly for a time, supported by the mysterious utterances of Velleda, a prophetess who lived in a tower in the land of the Bructeri, and excited popular enthusiasm on behalf of the enemy of Rome. At last he was overcome by the Roman general Cerealis, and the Batavians were thenceforth compelled to send recruits to the Roman army.

About a hundred years after this time the relations of the Romans and the Germans began to be reversed, the latter being the aggressors. In the Marcomannic war Marcus Aurelius opposed for thirteen years a vast host of Germans who sought to push southward into Roman territory. Meanwhile the Romans had profoundly influenced large parts of the country. They built many fortresses along their frontier, and some of these were connected by a great wall, of which there are still remnants in southern Germany. Around the fortresses grew up towns, which became the centres of civilization over pretty wide districts. In Rhaetia, which reached from the Lake of Constance along the Danube as far as the Inn, there were important settlements at Augsburg and Regensburg (Ratisbon); Noricum, which stretched far to the east of Rhaetia, possessed, among other towns, Vienna, Salzburg, and Weis. Germania Superior and Germania Inferior, on the left bank of the Rhine, included Strasburg, Mainz (Mayence), Worms, Cologne, and Bonn. In the province of Belgium, which was at least partly German, was the great city of Treves, one of the most splendid in the Roman empire, and often the residence of the emperors.

Confederations of Tribes.

The experience of the Germans in contending with the Romans taught them the necessity of some measure of union; and from the third century we hear no longer of the individual tribes which had before been famous, but of groups or confederations, each forming, for purposes of attack and defence, a single state. The Goths were one of the most important of these groups. They included many of the tribes in the eastern and north-eastern parts of Germany, such as the Vandals, the Burgundians, and the Heruli. Next to them, in the order in which they appear in history, were the Alemanni, a confederation made up of several Suevic tribes. They held the Rhine country in the neighbourhood of the Main, and were continually pushing southwards and eastwards in the hope of securing Roman lands and towns. To the north of them, on both banks of the Rhine as far as the sea, were the Franks; and to the east of the Franks, the Frisians and Saxons. The Thuringians, descendants of the Hermunduri, inhabited the Thuringian Forest and the surrounding country.

The Goths were the first of these confederations to found a great kingdom; in the 4th century their lands stretched from the Baltic to the Black Sea. This vast state was broken up by the Huns, who poured in immense hordes from the Asiatic steppes into Europe. Urged forward by so tremendous a force, the Burgundians, the Vandals, and many of the Suevi wandered westwards early in the 5th century in search of new homes; and the Burgundians soon conquered from the Romans the whole of the valley of the Rhone, in which they thenceforth settled. The Vandals and the Suevi went on to Spain, the latter remaining there, but the former crossing over to Africa, where they maintained an independent kingdom for upwards of a century. Meanwhile, in a portion of Rhaetia a new confederation had been forming itself, the Bavarians, who were probably in part descendants of the Marcomanni and also included some of the bands which had been driven westwards by the Huns. When the latter had settled themselves in the Gothic lands, the East Goths continued subject to them; but the West Goths crossed the Danube into Roman territory, and afterwards, under their bold chief Alaric, penetrated into Italy and seized Rome itself. In the 5th century they conquered the southern part of Gaul, and nearly the whole of »Spain, shutting up the Suevi, who had preceded them, in the small part of the peninsula which now forms Portugal. In the great battle with Attila, in which the destinies of civilization were decided, they fought by the side of the Romans; and it was chiefly owing to their valour that he was forced to retreat. After his fall and the consequent disruption of his kingdom, Odoacer, the chief of the Heruli, became lord of Italy, and his authority was recognized beyond the Alps as far as Bavaria. Theodoric, the East Goth, displaced him; and to Theodoric, too, the Bavarians yielded some kind of submission. None of the German kings who planted themselves on Roman soil displayed higher statesmanship than this great sovereign; but his kingdom was built on too narrow foundations, and after his death soon gave way. The Lombards, Vvho succeeded the East Goths in Italy, were not so brilliantly successful, but their power was more enduring.

While these migrations were going on, great changes took place in the mother country. The Slavs, the last of the Aryan family to enter Europe, and at that time a listless and indolent race, having been stirred up by the terrific onslaughts of the Huns, had followed the general impulse towards the west. Finding many German lands vacant, they took possession of them; and so numerous were their incursions that in the 5th century the Elbe and the Saale became the eastern boundaries of Germany. Within Germany itself the confederations had greatly extended their lands. The Alemanni held both banks of the Rhine at the points where it is joined by the Moselle and the Main, and reached far into what is now Switzerland. The Thuringians had pushed down as far as the Danube, and penetrated northwards and westwards along the Elbe and towards the Weser. The basins of the Elbe and the Weser were in the hands of the Saxons, and the Bavarians steadily advanced in and around the valley of the Inn.

More important than any of these groups were the Franks, whose destiny it was to found the German and the French kingdoms. They were remarkable for the comparatively friendly terms on which they lived with the Romans, in whose armies many of them served, and by whose side they fought the Alemanni, the West Goths, and the Burgundians. This alliance did not, however, prevent them from enriching themselves, whenever they had an opportunity, at the expense of the Romans, who were repeatedly compelled to turn against them and drive them back. The Franks who lived to the east and the west of the Rhine were called Ripuarians; those at the mouth of the Rhine and along the western shores of the North Sea were known as Salians,—both of them names whose origin is still uncertain. One consequence of the relation of the Franks to the Romans was that the kingly authority soon became higher among them than among other Germans. The Salic code, which probably belongs to the middle of the 5th century, shows us the Salian king as in all respects the centre of his state. He was not then elected, but inherited his rights; and the only nobility which existed was that belonging to his officers and followers. The state was divided into “gaus,” presided over by grafs or counts, whose duty was to administer the laws emanating from him, and to execute the sentences of his tribunal. There were still, however, popular assemblies, without whose sanction the king could not undertake any national enterprise.

Early Mediaeval Period.

The first Salian king of whom we know anything is Chlodi.^>, who reigned about the middle of the 5th century, and whose kingdom reached to the Somme. His successor, Merwig, or Merovaeus, who gave his name to the first great Frankish dynasty, fought beside the Romans and the West Goths against Attila. Childeric I., the son of Merovaeus, offended his people, and appears to have fled from them and taken refuge for a time among the Thuringians. During his absence the Salians placed themselves under the Roman commander-in-chief, Aegidius, not as the representative of Rome, but as a personal ruler in whom they had confidence. His representative governed so badly that they were glad to welcome Childeric back. In a great battle Childeric overcame Aegidius, and made himself master of Cologne and Treves; but afterwards he was reconciled to the Romans, and before his death he ruled in their name in Paris. When he died in 481, his son and successor, Chlodwig (Clovis) was a boy of fifteen, but a boy of high spirit, daring and aggressive. From him, in 486, came, in the battle of Soissons, the blow which made an end of Roman rule in Gaul. In a few years he conquered the greater part of the country, and many of his warriors scattered themselves over it, seizing much of its most fruitful land. He turned also agaiust men of his own race. The Alemanni having made war on the Ripuarian Franks, the latter appealed for help to Chlodwig, who gladly responded to their summons, and defeated the invaders in the battle of Zülpich. It was in this battle that he vowed, according to tradition, to become .a member of the Catholic Church if the God of the Christians gave him the victory. Whether or not the tale be true, it is certain that to his baptism he owed the greater part of his amazing success; for the West Goths and the Burgundians were Arians, and the Gallic clergy, who exercised unlimited power over the popular mind, welcomed into their country an orthodox believer. As for the Alemanni, he would have annexed their whole territory, but Theodoric, the East Goth, who was interested in them, and whom he did not dare offend, warned him that he must not treat them with undue severity. He must, however, have taken the part of their territory in the neighbourhood of the Main and the Neckar, for it was henceforth known as Franconia. At a somewhat later date the whole of Alemannia was added to his kingdom. Being as unscrupulous as he was ambitious, he put to death all who had any claim to independent authority among the Franks; so that he became their sole king, and they quickly acquired the proud feeling of being the centre of a vast and growing state.

Chlodwig died in Paris, his capital, in 511, leaving four sons. They did not destroy the unity of the kingdom, which in its relation to the outer world continued to be regarded as a single power. But each, as a king of the Franks, received a separate territory. TÍie East or Rhenish Franks, with the Alemanni subject to them, were placed under Theodoric, the eldest. He was as valiant as his father, and not less deceitful and cruel. The great Thuringian kingdom was in his time ruled by three brothers, Hermanfried, Berthar, and Baderich. The former of these was married to a niece of Theodoric the East Goth, Amala-berga, a kind of Thuringian Lady Macbeth. Consumed by a vehement ambition, she persuaded her husband to murder Berthar; and she would have caused the death of Baderich also, but that he knew her design and rose against the guilty pair. Hermanfried sent to Theodoric, the East Frankish king, and offered to reward him if he would form an alliance against Baderich. The offer was gladly accepted, and in a battle which followed Baderich was slain. No reward, however, was given, and Theodoric, indignant at being thus treated, vowed to be avenged. He allied himself with the northern neighbours of the Thuringians—the Saxons; and with their united forces they completely subdued the country. Theodoric himself murdered Hermanfried by pushing him off the wall of Zülpich, where they were carrying on an apparently friendly conversation, the Thuringian king having received an assurance that he would be treated with honour. Thereupon the murderer divided between himself and the Saxons the territory of the Thuringians, annexing the southern half to the Frankish kingdom. His son, Theudebert, not only maintained this conquest but added to it, after the downfall of the Gothic kingdom in Italy, that of Bavaria. The Alemanni were also made altogether subject to his rule. Thus the Saxons and the Frisians alone retained their independence.

The rights of the Franks in Germany were at first vigorously asserted; but a change soon came. The Merovingian kings carried on so many fierce wars with each other that they had little time to look after their -subjects in the remote east; moreover, the rise of a great new aristocracy steadily undermined the royal power. This aristocracy was made up of the class directly associated with the king by military or court duties. They were rewarded by immense grants of land, which they held in the first instance subject to the condition of rendering faithful service, but the possession of which, in most cases, became in the end absolute and hereditary. Nowhere was the new aristocracy so powerful as in Austrasia, the eastern division of the Frankish monarchy. In Neustria, the western division, where the sovereign had to deal for the most part with a race which for five centuries had been accustomed to the despotic government of Rome, he had little difficulty in maintaining his supremacy; for the Franks settled in different districts could not but be more or less influenced by the feeling of the native population. Besides, they lived at great distances from one another, so that it was difficult to hold popular assemblies of any kind, and the powers which belonged to them were naturally transferred to the head of the state. Hence, even when the Merovingian kings of Neustria were driven into the background, and the mayors of the palace governed, the latter had high authority, and exercised it, as a rule, in the interests of the crown. In Austrasia the conditions were wholly different. There the Franks were the predominant element; and the distances were not so great but that an assembly could be rapidly summoned on every occasion of real need. Thus the important landowners of Austrasia were able to hold together, and to limit the powers of the sovereign on the one hand and of the ordinary freemen on the other. And the mayor of the palace, who was their nominee, and could at any moment be dismissed if he displeased them, usually acted as their representative and leader.

Kings under the authority of an aristocracy of this kind are not likely to be troublesome to unruly subjects; especially kings of such feeble personal character as those who, from the first half of the 7th century, nominally held the sceptre of the mighty Chlodwig. The German confederations which he and his immediate descendants had conquered soon became virtually free. They continued to acknowledge Frankish supremacy; but the acknowledgment was only formal. At the head of each confederation was its own herzog or duke. These rulers were at first appointed by the Frankish kings, or received their sanction; but in course of time the office became hereditary in particular families. This was the case, longer than anywhere else, in Bavaria, where the ancient Agilolfing family held the ducal dignity from the earliest days of Frankish authority down to the time of Charles the Great. The dukes were far from being absolute sovereigns, for in Germany the freemen had retained many of their primeval rights. The assemblies of the hundred and of the confederation still exercised great authority. As among the Austrasian Franks, however, although in a less degree, the leading landowners constantly encroached upon the powers both of the poorer freemen and of the head of the state.

In the time of the great dukes of the Franks, who arose to infuse new life into the decaying monarchy, there was another profound change in the position of the Germans. After the battle of Testri, in 687, in which Pippin of Heristal decided that the Frankish kingdom should not then fall to pieces, and that, in the reunited state, the Austrasian Franks should have the supremacy, the German dukes began to find that they were likely again to have a master. He made war on them, and forced them to some extent to return to the allegiance which they had all but forgotten. His successor, Charles Martel, asserted his rights with not less vigour, and added East Friesland for the first time to the monarchy. The high importance of the efforts of these two illustrious rulers was seen in the struggle of Charles Martel with the Arabs. Had the Frankish kingdom been dissolved, they would have had little difficulty in overrunning Europe; but having under him a state more or less organized, Charles was able to rally around him powerful warriors from all the districts he governed, Germany among the rest. And so, at the memorable battle of Poitiers, he saved Christendom. Other favourable results of the policy of Charles and his father were that new and vigorous life streamed towards the Gallic part of the kingdom from Germany, while the Germans were brought into closer contact than before with the higher and more refined civilization of the Gauls. Pippin the Short, the first king of the Carolingian line, although his chief fame was won in his wars with Aquitania and with Lombardy, did not neglect Germany,, in which he strove to assert an authority more thorough and extensive than had been exercised even by the early Merovingian sovereigns.

After all, however, even these powerful Frankish conquerors had but imperfect success in Germany. When they were present with their formidable armies, they could command obedience; when engaged, as they often were, in distant parts of the vast Frankish territory, they could not trust to the fulfilment of the fair promises they had exacted. One of the chief causes of their ill-success was the continued independence of the Saxons. Ever since they had acquired the northern half of Thuringia, this warlike race had been extending its power. They were still heathens, and maintained all the old customs and institutions of primitive Germany. As in ancient times, they appointed a herzog only when an officer of this class was needed, in time of war; at ordinary times the chiefs elected by the freemen ruled in association with the popular assemblies. They cherished bitter hatred towards the Franks, whom they justly regarded as the enemies both of their liberties and of their religion; and their hatred found expression, not only in expeditions into Frankish territory, but in help willingly rendered to every German confederation which wished to throw off the Frankish yoke. No rebellion against the dukes of the F ranks, or against King Pippin, took place in Germany without the Saxons coming forward to aid the rebels. This was perfectly understood by the Frankish rulers, who tried again and again to put au end to the evil by subduing the Saxons. They could not, however, attain their object. An occasional victory was gained, and some border tribes were from time to time compelled to pay tribute; but the mass of the Saxons remained unconquered. This was partly due to the fact that the Saxons had not, like the other German confederations, a duke who, when beaten, could be held responsible for the engagements forced upon him as the representative of his subjects. A Saxon chief who made peace with the Franks could undertake nothing for the whole people. As a conquering race, they were firmly compact; conquered, they were in the hands of the victor a rope of sand.

Although, at the time of King Pippin’s death in 768, the Germans were still imperfectly subdued, they had received the germs of new life; for, with the exception of the Saxons, they were then nominally Christians. The first missionaries to Germany were Irish monks. In the 7th century a number of these laboured with considerable success in different parts of the country, especially among the Alemanni and the Bavarians; and when the influence of the Franks became dominant, Frankish missionaries also began to do for the church what the warriors did for the state. The honour of converting Germany as a whole, however, belongs mainly to St Boniface, an Englishman, who in 717 began the task of his life as an assistant to another English missionary, Willibrord, in Friesland. Soon afterwards, during a visit to Rome, he received from Pope Gregory II. a commission as apostle of the Germans, and worked incessantly among the Thuringians and the Frisians. He proved himself one of the most skilful of missionaries, adapting the conceptions of Christianity to the ideas of those whom he taught. The peculiar powers of Wodan, for instance, were transferred to the archangel Michael, those of Donar to St Peter; and the chief Christian festival, Easter, received its name from the goddess Ostara. His zeal and talent, although largely rewarded, effected less than he had hoped, so that in 723 he went once more to Rome to obtain, if possible, increased powers. Hitherto the mission in Germany had possessed an essentially independent character; Boniface now undertook to work in all things under the direction and for the benefit of the papacy. In return for this engagement he was not only made bishop of all Germans who had been or should be converted, but received from the pope a letter commending him to Charles, the mighty duke of the Franks. The Frankish bishops, who had no wish to become subordinate to the papacy, received Boniface coldly, and threw every kind of obstacle in his way. Charles, however, believing that the conversion of Germany would be the most effectual means of establishing Frankish authority, took Boniface under his protection, and sent him forth with orders that he should be everywhere respected. Thus strengthened, he entered upon a wholly new stage of his career. He was looked upon as to some extent armed with the authority of the great warrior and ruler, and he and his fellow-workers rapidly brought vast districts within the pale of the church. Possessing a high talent for organization, he would willingly have established an orderly ecclesiastical system as he proceeded; but the Alemanni and the Bavarians, among whom Christianity had made some progress before his time, would not allow him free scope for his activity; and Charles, who, by “resuming” church lands and granting them to faithful followers, had done much to weaken ecclesiastical authority in Gaul, did not wish to see it assume threatening proportions in Germany. In 738 Boniface again visited Rome, from which he returned in the following year as papal legate to the Frankish state. Armed with this new authority, he was able to some extent to give effect to his ideas. The duke of Bavaria permitted him to divide the whole of

Bavaria into the episcopal sees of Salzburg, Freisingen, Ratisbon, and Passau, and to appoint the bishops; and a little later, with the sanction of Charles, he formed also the sees of Würzburg, Erfurt, Buraburg, and Eichstädt.

Before Pippin the Short was made king, he ruled for some years in association with his brother Carlman, to whom the eastern part of the kingdom was confided. Carlman was a man of strongly religious temperament, and warmly supported Boniface. He set up by his advice bishoprics and monasteries, among the latter being the great abbey of Fulda, which, throughout the Middle Ages, was one of the chief centres of intellectual light in Germany. In 742 was held the first German council, summoned by Carlman, and presided over by Boniface. It did much for the organization of the church, and was the beginning of an important movement for the reform of ecclesiastical abuses among the Franks. Boniface wished to become archbishop of Cologne, that he might the more readily influence the Frisians; but the suggestion met with opposition, and he ultimately accepted the see of Mainz. As archbishop of Mainz and primate of Germany, he was able to foster and control the institutions he had established. The last years of his life he spent in missionary labours among the Frisians, and in 755 he died a martyr’s death. By that time all German tribes, with the exception of the Saxons, professed Christianity; and the church was not only highly organized, but possessed great wealth. The old pagan faith had struck its roots too deeply into the German nature to be at once or soon completely destroyed. Traces of its influence may even yet be detected in popular beliefs and customs; and for many centuries some of its conceptions, in altered forms, had hardly less vitality than those of the •Catholic creed. Christianity was, however, the dominant power, and soon became a great civilizing agency. It was a fact of high importance that its triumph was due mainly to the influence of the papacy. The German Church thus stood from the beginning in close relation to the pope,— a circumstance which added largely to his power, and which was followed by results of the utmost consequence in the later history of the nation.

Under Charles the Great (Charlemagne) a momentous era dawned in the history of the Germans. From the outset of his reign he had vast plans, which, however, were not so great as those ultimately realized. He saw at once that he could not hope to execute his schemes if on the north-eastern boundary of his kingdom there was a powerful and hostile people, ready at all times to plot against him, and to take advantage of any misfortune which might temporarily befall him. Accordingly, when the death of his brother Carlman made him, in 771, sole king, one of his first resolutions was to advance against the Saxons, and thoroughly to subdue them. It is not necessary to suppose that he went to war without an adequate special reason; for, as the Frankish and the Saxon frontiers touched each other along the whole western and southern boundary of Saxony, and as the Saxons were continually robbing their neighbours, pretexts for war were always overabundant. In his first campaign in 772 he overran the country, took the fortress of Eresburg, previously supposed to be impregnable, and cast down the Irminsul, a mysterious column to which the Saxons attached profound religious significance. Awed by the lordly bearing of the great Frank, by the numbers and discipline of his army, and by these proofs of his power, the Saxons appeared to submit at once, and Charles was under the impression that he had conquered them. Never was there a more profound mistake; in reality, he was at the beginning of a struggle which lasted upwards of thirty years. Time after time, when apparently they were utterly beaten, they rose against the invaders, and tried with desperate energy to drive them from the country. The execution of 4500 prisoners by Charles—an act which even then was looked upon as barbarous—only deepened their resolve never to yield to his authority. At last, however, their strength was exhausted, and they had no alternative but to submit. Charles introduced among them the political institutions which were established throughout the kingdom; and they were compelled to exchange their heathenism for the Christian faith. Thus one of the greatest dangers which threatened the stability of the Frankish kingdom was overcome, and all Germany was for the first time brought under a single ruler.

The part of Germany which, next to Saxony, had retained most independence was Bavaria. Its duke, Thassilo, had been on ill terms with Pippin, and, had he allied himself with the Saxons during their great conflict, he might have baffled even Charles. But he did not become troublesome until they were too weak to be of service to him. Repeated acts of treachery gave Charles a pretext for depriving him of his office, and after him no duke was placed over the country. As the dukes of the Alemanni and the Thuringians had also been displaced, Germany became, more directly than it had ever before been, subject to the Frankish sovereign. Not content with completing the conquest of the German people, he made war on the tribes which harassed their eastern frontier. The Avars, who held the greater part of what is now Hungary, were thoroughly beaten; and the Slavs, including the Czechs of Bohemia and Moravia, and the Slavonic tribes to the north of them, as far as the Baltic, were also more or less effectually forced into submission.

The great step taken by Charles on Christmas Day 800, when at St Peter’s in Rome he was crowned Roman emperor, intensified the allegiance of his German as ’of his other subjects; but it could not produce so powerful an impression in Germany as in Gaul. Ultimately, however, it was in Germany that the significance of the step was fully revealed; for, in becoming emperor, Charles created so splendid a prize, that later German kings could not resist the temptation to grasp at it, and its possession proved their ruin.

All the advantages which attended the rule of Charles throughout his vast empire were shared by the Germans. The border countries he formed into “marches,” over which he appointed margraves, whose duty was to administer justice in his name, to collect tribute, and to extend his conquests. Germany itself was placed under counts, who did not merely, like the counts of an earlier time, execute the sentences of the royal tribunals, but themselves decided questions of justice in accordance with local laws and the capitularies of Charles. Four times a year the whole country was visited by his Missi Dominici, who reported as to the state of their districts, investigated grievances, and proclaimed the imperial decrees. Although he could not write, Charles was a man of true culture, and encouraged education by causing schools to be established in connexion with cathedrals and monasteries. These schools were modelled on the famous school of the palace over which Alcuin presided, and in which the emperor himself passed some of his happiest hours. By his magnificent basilica in Aachen (Aix-la-Chapelle), his favourite capital, and by the palaces he built there and in Ingelheim and Nimeguen, he fostered a love of art among the more advanced of his German subjects.

In Germany, as in Gaul, Charles treated the clergy in the spirit in which he treated the papacy; he set up and put down archbishops, bishops, and abbots, as if he were the supreme lord of the church,—which indeed, in theory as well as in practice, he claimed to be. But the church never had a truer friend. As emperor, he believed that his chief duty was to protect and to encourage it, and he was stimulated to the performance of his supposed duty by the conviction that a strong spiritual power would be one of the soundest pillars of his secular authority. Hence he not only founded bishoprics and monasteries in Germany, and enriched them with magnificent gifts of land, but invested the prelates with some of the functions which properly belonged to the counts. Criminal cases they did not yet decide; but they were allowed to settle all civil disputes between the inhabitants of their territories. This policy may have been beneficial at the time, but it caused much disaster to his German successors; for the church became one of the most vigorous and obstinate powers with which they had to contend in maintaining their lawful functions.

Although in many respects one of the greatest of statesmen, Charles was of thoroughly despotic temper; more than any previous Frankish king he set himself against popular liberties. Hitherto all Germans had had the right of attending national assemblies or diets; the common freemen were now excluded, and only the great nobles, spiritual and secular, were summoned. Even they had but slight influence. They had the right of advising, but Charles himself originated and decided; and he would not brook opposition, although, indeed, so commanding was his presence, and so high the moral authority conferred by his great deeds, very little opposition was ever offered. Popular assemblies of all kinds he discouraged, transferring their functions to the counts. Not only were the rights of freemen limited, but severe hardships were imposed upon them by Charles’s incessant warlike expeditions. At any moment they were liable to be dragged from their homes to some distant corner of the empire; and while they were away, their fields lay neglected, and their families suffered grinding poverty. What made this evil most galling was the fact that its pressure was very unequally felt. Well-off freemen knew how to purchase exemption from the counts, part of whose business was to see that the ranks of the army should be properly filled. It is true that Charles treated severely offences of this kind; but in such an empire as his, it was impossible even for his Missi Dominici to find out every case of injustice. Thus the burden of his many wars fell to the largest extent on the poorer class of freemen, who had but a sorry recompense in the glory their sacrifices reflected on their lord.

Not content with the general allegiance due to him as king and emperor, Charles compelled many great landowners to take the oath of vassals; he imposed a like condition on his prelates and counts. A man might be his vassal without possessing land; but no land was granted by Charles except to those who were willing to assume this intimate personal relation. As his conquests put vast quantities of land at his disposal, especially in Saxony and on the frontiers, many freemen gladly swore to be his “men” in the hope that he would reward them for their services with extensive benefices. On the other hand, large numbers of poor freemen became the vassals of their stronger neighbours, as there was a chance that the military demands made upon them would thus be made rather less exorbitant. By these changes, due either directly or indirectly to him, Charles helped to build up that system of feudal tenures, the foundations of which had been laid by the first Merovingian kings. As in giving great temporal power to the church, so in establishing feudalism, he imagined that he was providing for the monarchy a steady support; but in the latter case, even more than in the former, he prepared weakness and humiliation for those who came after him.

After the death of Charles Germany remained for some time, in common with the other countries which composed the Frankish empire, under the direct rule of his son, Louis (Hludwig or Ludwig) the Pious. On the division of the monarchy, effected by the emperor in 817, in order to secure the succession, Bavaria was given to his second son Louis; the other parts of Germany fell to his eldest son Lothair (Hlothar), who received also the rest of the empire, except Aquitania, which was the portion of Pippin, the youngest. This arrangement lasted until the emperor fell completely under the power of his second wife, Judith, a Bavarian princess, who intrigued incessantly to obtain for her son Charles—afterwards “Charles the Bald”—a position similar to that of his half brothers. The emperor at last, at the expense of his son Lothair, marked off an important territory for this inconvenient child. In the wars which followed, Louis the Bavarian firmly maintained his rights; but he disapproved the cruel harshness with which his father was treated by Lothair. In Germany the emperor was highly esteemed,— especially in Saxony, where he softened the rigorous system introduced by Charles, by sanctioning as far as possible a return to ancient popular institutions. The result was that when he was virtually deposed by Lothair, and afterwards not only deposed but humiliated almost ‘beyond endurance, the Germans warmly supported Louis the Bavarian in insisting that the emperor should be restored to imperial rights. For his services on these occasions Louis received extensive additions of territory, and had he continued to be fairly treated, he would have been the most effectual support of his father’s power. But the spirit of the gentle-hearted emperor was broken by misfortune, and when Pippin of Aquitania died, he was easily persuaded by Judith, who had come to an understanding with Lothair, to sanction a division of the empire by which his son in Germany would have been confined strictly to his original possession of Bavaria. Louis instantly revolted; and it was in marching against him that the emperor fell sick and died, in 8 40, on a small island on the Rhine opposite Ingelheim. The last words of the dying sovereign were a message of forgiveness to his rebellious son.

Lothair at once assumed the imperial dignity, and showed that he intended to demand the complete submission of his brothers, Louis and Charles. They combined against him, and in the battle of Fontenay, in 841, after fearful slaughter, defeated him. The armies of the allied brothers soon afterwards met in Strasburg, where they swore to be true to each other, Louis taking the oath, so as to be understood by the army of Charles, in a language in which we find the beginnings of modern French, Charles in a German dialect. In 843 the treaty of Verdun was signed. By this treaty Lothair retained the title of emperor, and received, in addition to the Italian territory of the Franks, a long narrow kingdom, stretching from the Mediterranean up through the valleys of the Rhone and the Rhine to the North Sea. This kingdom was called Lotharingia, a name afterwards confined to the northern part of it along the left bank of the Rhine. To the west of Lotharingia was the kingdom of Charles, which included the greater part of what is now France. Louis received most of the German lands to the east of the Rhine, with the towns and sees of Mainz, Worms, and Spires, on the western bank.

Nothing was further from the intention of the brothers than finally to break up the Frankish state by this division. In relation to the outer world the empire was still considered a single power, as the kingdom had been after the death of Chlodwig, more than three centuries before. And, after a time, it was for a brief period reunited under one head. Still it is not an arbitrary impulse that has led historians to fix upon 843 as the date of the real beginning of the German as well as of the French kingdom. Although it can hardly be said that a true national life had yet revealed itself in Germany, at least the foundations of national life had been laid. For the first time Germany was ruled by a king who reigned nowhere else, and it could not but be that the people should slowly acquire a sense of common interests.

Middle Med larval Period.

Keen animosity soon revealed itself between Louis and Charles the B.dd, and on one occasion when the former, accepting the invitation of certain West-Frankish nobles, rashly invaded his brother’s territory, he was made prisoner. He escaped without dishonour only by the intercession of Lothair II., the emperor Lothair’s second son, who, after his father’s death, had received the greater part, and ultimately the whole, of Lothair’s kingdom to the north of Italy. When Lothair II. died in 8G9, Charles the Bald pounced upon his territory; but Louis the German had naturally something to say to this seizure of the whole prize, and in 870 the rival brothers signed the treaty of Mersen, by which Louis became possessed of most of Lotharingia or Lorraine. Germany at this time assumed very nearly the proportions which it maintained during the Middle Ages. On the east its boundaries were the Elbe and the Saale; to the west it reached to aud included the valleys of the Meuse and the Moselle, taking in, among others, the important towns and dioceses of Utrecht, Aix-la-Chapelle, Metz, Strasburg, and Basel. Franconia, which reached eastward from the Rhine through the valleys of the Neckar and the Main to the Saale, and extended also a little to the west of the Rhine, occupied the central positipn, and, as the home of the Franks, was the most important division of the kingdom. To the north and north-east of it were Saxony and Thuringia; to the south, Alemannia, or, as it now began to be called, Swabia; and to the east of Swabia, in the valley of the Inn, Bavaria. There were five archbishoprics, those of Mainz, Treves, Cologne, Salzburg, and Bremen.

Louis, who was on the whole the worthiest of the grandsons of Charles the Great, ruled his kingdom vigorously and efficiently. During his reign the Frankish empire was vexed throughout nearly its whole extent by the Northmen, whom the fame of Charles the Great had held in awe, but who now swept the coasts of northern, southern, and western Europe with persistent fury. The East-Frankish kingdom was, however, much less troubled at this time than the kingdom of the West Franks; the main evil with which Louis had to contend was the arrogance of his Slavonic neighbours. Exactly to the east of Franconia, from the Saale to the Oder, were the Sorabi, and to the north of them, between the Elbe and the Oder, the Wiltzi and Abotrites; while along the Baltic coast, as far as the Vistula, in what is now Pomerania, were the Wends. To the south of the Sorabi, behind the Bohemian Forest, were the Czechs of Bohemia and Moravia. All these Slavonic tribes Charles the Great had either thoroughly subdued or made tributary; and of course Louis the German claimed supremacy over them. But it was hard to make his claims good. While he was a very young ruler, a vigorous duke—Moimir—acquired a position of great power among the Moravians. Soon after the signing of the treaty of Verdun, Louis, becoming alarmed at the growing influence of this chief, advanced against him, and put in hia place a chief named Rastislaus, on whose allegiance he thought he could rely. But on his way back he was defeated by the Bohemians, who were on good terms with the Moravians. From this time the Moravians were a source of incessant anxiety to him. Rastislaus extended his kingdom far to the east, and formed alliances with the Bulgarians and even with the Byzantine emperor; at the same time he stirred up the Bohemians and the Sorabi against Louis, and built strong fortresses on his western frontier. This gallant chief, after much fighting, at last fell into the hands of his enemies, who put out his eyes, and caused him to end his days iu a monastery. But his successor, Suatopluk, was not less energetic, and Louis was never able to overmaster him.

The emperor Lothair’s successor in the empire was his eldest son Louis II., who received as his kingdom the Frankish possessions in Italy. After his death Charles the Bald adroitly managed to secure the imperial crown. This happened in 875, almost immediately before the death of Louis the German. Having succeeded so easily in regard to the supreme title, Charles fancied he might be able to unite the whole empire under his rule. But Louis had divided Germany between his three sons, Carlman, Louis, and Charles; and the second of these met Charles the Bald on the field of Andernach, and by a decided victory convinced the West Franks that it was useless to hope for dominion east of the Rhine. The same son of Louis the German forced Charles the Bald to give up such portions of Lorraine as had been ceded to him by the treaty of Mersen, so that the right of possessing the whole of this important territory, which included the best part of what had been Austrasia, was vindicated for the Germans. The two eldest sons of Louis soon died, and the kingdom passed into the hands of the youngest, Charles the Fat, a prince of indolent habits and feeble mind. He crossed the Alps, however, and was crowned emperor; and, as the Northmen were at this time tormenting the West-Frankish kingdom, and no descendant of Charles the Bald was fit to cope with them, Charles the Fat was invited to become king of the West Franks. He thus ruled, with the exception of Burgundy, which at this time became an independent state, the whole empire of Charles the Great; but the mighty fabric could not exist without the genius which had built it up. In Germany also the Northmen had made themselves more and more troublesome. Time after time their skiffs had penetrated far up the Rhine; they had plundered Cologne and Treves, and fed their horses over the grave of the great Charles himself, in his own beautiful basilica. His degenerate great-grandson adopted the policy of buying them off, and when he reached Paris, to the disgust of his subjects, he pursued the same course. It happened that his brother Carlman had left an illegitimate son, Arnulf, whom he had made ruler of Carinthia, a country lying to the east of Bavaria. This young noble, who inherited the undaunted spirit of his forefathers, was indignant at the cowardice of his uncle; and when the latter, in 887, summoned an assembly in Tribur, Arnulf, instead of obeying the summons, marched at the head of a powerful army against the emperor. Deserted even by his ministers, and unable to offer the smallest resistance, Charles was dethroned, and in a week or two afterwards died; and Arnulf, notwithstanding his illegitimacy, became king. For some time after this, Germany was still called East Francia, and the western kingdom West Francia, but they never again had a common ruler; they were now in all respects separate, independent states. The empire of Charles the Great had fallen to pieces.

Arnulf, following the example of Charles the Fat, went to Rome and was made emperor. He could exercise but little authority in Italy, however, and soon returned. In 890 the Northmen desolated the valleys of the Meuse and the Moselle, and Arnulf, instead of buying them off, sent against them a powerful army. As it was defeated, he himself took the command in the following year. The Northmen occupied a strongly entrenched camp near Louvain; and Arnulf’s force, consisting mainly of cavalry, seemed to be quite powerless. Leaping from his horse, he induced his men to fight beside him on foot; and they were so stimulated by his valour that for the first time the dreaded enemy fled, leaving thousands of bodies on the field. They never returned in such numbers as to be again a national peril. The emperor had also to wage war with the Moravians, but his efforts here were not crowned with like success. By this time the fierce and warlike Magyars had become a terror to eastern Europe, and it occurred to Arnulf to ask for their alliance. They gladly assented; and with their help he overcame one of the three reigning sons of Suatopluk, and contrived to detach from Moravia the Bohemians, the Sorabi, and other Slavs whom Suatopluk had joined to his kingdom. But at the time of his death, in 899, he had not succeeded in breaking up the state established by this powerful warrior and his predecessor.

During the nominal reign of Louis the Child—the last of the Carolingian dynasty in Germany (899-911)—the German people passed through one of the darkest periods of their history; for when the Magyars heard that Arnulf had been succeeded by a child, they swept into Germany in vast numbers, and fearful was the havoc they caused in every part of the kingdom. At such a time as this it happened that there was no leader around whom the nation could rally; it was virtually defenceless, and year after year savage hordes returned, bearing away with them as much plunder as they could carry, and driving before them as many prisoners as they could control. Where the Northmen had whipped with cords, these barbarians lashed with scorpions.

During the wars with the Magyars, the Northmen, and the Slavs, feudalism made rapid advances in Germany. Even in the days of Louis the German and Arnulf it was impossible for the sovereign to protect at all times every part of the kingdom. The people themselves were obliged to rise against their enemies, and, as in old times, they appointed herzogs or dukes for special warlike expeditions. These leaders, being chosen from the ancient ducal families, naturally began to think of restoring the power of which their fathers had been deprived; and, as there never was more urgent need of strong local rulers, they found no great difficulty in gratifying their ambition. The first reigning duke of whom we hear is Otto of Saxony, a country not only liable, like the rest of Germany, to the attacks of the Magyars, but specially exposed to the Scandinavian sea-robbers and the northern Slavs. This duke ruled over both Saxony and Thuringia. Soon afterwards we hear also of dukes in Bavaria, in Swabia, in Lorraine, and last of all, in Franconia. Having unusual opportunities of acquiring new lands, the dukes increased their power by granting them as fiefs to vassals on whom they could depend; and many independent landowners were glad to obtain their protection by offering them homage. Multitudes of the humbler class of freemen either were forced to change the tenure of their possessions into a feudal tenure, or did so in order to escape from still greater evils. Thus, when Louis the Child died, the feudal tenure of land was the prevailing system in nearly all parts of the country. Even those who held their offices and lands immediately of the monarch, like the dukes themselves, might still, in theory, be deprived of both; but in reality they asserted almost complete independence, rendering only such service to their lord as he could force from them, or as suited their convenience. The royal authority, nominally great, had become but a shadow of the authority exercised by the early Carolingian kings.

Had Germany had no powerful external enemy, it is probable that it would now have lost the slight measure of unity to which it had attained. While Louis lived, the dukes were virtually kings in their duchies; and their natural tendency would have been to make themselves absolute rulers. But, threatened as they were by the Magyars, with the Slavs and Northmen always ready to take advantage of their weakness, they could not afford to do without a central government. Accordingly the nobles assembled at Forchheim, and by the advice of Otto, the aged duke of Saxony, Conrad of Franconia was raised to the throne (911-918). He had some excellent qualities, and in quieter times would have done good service to Germany; but he was rash and impulsive, and far too ready to submit to priestly influence. The dukes of Bavaria, Swabia, and Lorraine were not present at his election; and the choice displeased them, probably because he was likely to prove considerably more powerful than they wished. Rather than acknowledge him, the duke of Lotharingia or Lorraine transferred his allegiance to Charles the Simple of France; and it was in vain that Conrad protested and despatched armies into Lorraine. With the help of the French king the duke maintained his ground, and, for the time, his country was lost to Germany. Bavaria and Swabia yielded, but, mainly through the fault of the king himself, their submission was of brief duration. The rise of the dukes had been watched with extreme jealousy by the leading prelates. They saw that the independence they had hitherto enjoyed would be much more imperilled by powerful local governors than by a sovereign who necessarily regarded it as part of his duty to protect the church. Hence they had done everything they could to prevent the dukes from extending their authority, and as the government was carried on during the reign of Louis the Child mainly by Hatto, archbishop of Mainz, they had been able to throw considerable obstacles in the way of their rivals. They now induced Conrad to force a quarrel both upon Swabia and upon Bavaria, and the result was a series of wars in which he had only partial success. What was incomparably worse, his clerical advisers involved him in a struggle with Henry, duke of Saxony, son of the duke to whom he chiefly owed his crown. Henry was a man of great personal charm, a just ruler, strong, and brave. The Saxon people were devoted to him; and his influence over them was intensified by the virtues of his beautiful wife, to whom he was known to be passionately attached. Conrad committed a profound mistake in making an enemy of a man like this; and he lived to repent his error. On his death-bed he recommended the Franconian nobles to offer the crown to Henry, whom, with fine generosity, he recognized as the only man in the kingdom who could cope with the anarchy by which he had himself been baffled.

The nobles of Franconia acted upon the advice of their chief and king, and the Saxons were very willing that the duke they loved so well should rise to still higher honours. Henry I. (918-936) was one of the best kings Germany ever had, a born statesman and warrior. His ambition was of the noblest order, for he sank his personal interests in the cause of his country; and he knew exactly when to attain his objects by force, and when by calmness and moderation." By wise concessions he almost immediately overcame the opposition of the dukes of Swabia and Bavaria; and some time later, taking advantage of the troubled state of France, he accepted the homage of the duke of Lorraine, which for many centuries afterwards remained a part of the German kingdom.

Having established internal order, Henry was able to turn to matters of even more pressing moment. In the very first year of his reign the terrible Magyars, who had continued to scourge Germany during the reign of Conrad, broke into Saxony and plundered the land almost without hindrance. In 924 they returned, and this time, by good fortune, one of their greatest princes fell into the hands of the Germans. Henry restored him to his countrymen on condition that they should agree to a truce of nine years; and he had the courage to undertake to pay, during this period, yearly tribute. The heedless barbarians accepted his terms, and faithfully kept their word in regard to the immediate lands of Henry, although Bavaria, Swabia, and Franconia they occasionally invaded as before. He made admirable use of the opportunity he had secured, confining his efforts to Saxony and Thuringia, the only parts of Germany over which he had strong control. In the southern and western German lands, towns and fortified places had long existed; but in the north, where Roman influence had but feebly extended, and where even the· Franks had not exercised much authority until the time of Charles the Great, the people still lived as in ancient times either on solitary farms or in exposed villages. Such fortresses as Charles had built had been for the most part destroyed in the wars after his time, and almost the only attempts at fortification were to be found around the towers or castles of the great nobles, and the dwellings of the leading churchmen. Henry saw that, while this state of things lasted, the population could never be safe, and began in earnest the construction of fortresses and walled towns. Of every group of nine men one was compelled to devote himself to this work, while the remaining eight cultivated his fields, and allowed a third of their produce to be stored against times of trouble. The necessities of military discipline were next attended to. Hitherto the Germans had fought mainly on foot, and, as the Magyars came on horseback, the nation was placed at an immense disadvantage. A powerful force of cavalry was now raised, while at the same time the infantry were drilled in new and more effective modes of fighting. Although these preparations were carried on directly under Henry’s supervision only in Saxony and Thuringia, the neighbouring dukes knew what he was doing, and were stimulated to follow his example. When he concluded that he was almost ready, he made use of his new troops, before turning them against their chief enemy, the Magyars, to punish refractory Slavonic tribes; and at this time he brought under temporary subjection nearly all the Slavs between the Elbe and the Oder. He proceeded also against the Bohemians, whoso duke was compelled to do homage.

At the expiry of the truce the Magyar messengers came as usual for their tribute. They were sent away empty handed, whereupon a vast body of invaders crossed as in former years the frontier of Thuringia. Henry prudently waited until dearth of provisions forced the enemy to divide into two bands. He then swept down upon the weaker force, annihilated it, and rapidly advanced against the remaining portion of the army. The second battle was more severe than the first, but not less decisive. The Magyars, unable to cope with a disciplined army, were cut down in great numbers, and those who survived rode in wild terror from the field. The exact scenes of these conflicts are not known, but few more important battles have ever been fought. The power of the Magyars was not indeed destroyed, but it was broken, and the way was prepared for the effective liberation of Germany from an intolerable plague. While the Magyars had been troubling Germany on the east and south, the Danes had been irritating her on the north. Charles the Great had established a march between the Eider and the Schlei; but in course of time the Danes had not only seized this territory, but had driven the German population beyond the Elbe. The Saxons had been slowly reconquering the lost ground, and now Henry, advancing with his victorious army into Jutland, forced Gorm, the Danish king, to become his vassal. The German lands were given back, and it is probable that the march of Schleswig was at this time instituted.

When this great king died, every land inhabited by a German population formed part of the kingdom, and none of the duchies were at war either with him or among themselves. Along the northern and eastern frontier were tributary races, and the country was for the time rid of an enemy which, for nearly a generation, had kept it in perpetual fear. Vast as were these results, perhaps Henry did even greater service in beginning the growth of towns throughout north Germany. He was not content with merely making them places of defence, he decreed that they should be centres for the adminstration of justice, and that in them should be held all public festivities and ceremonies; he also instituted town markets, and encouraged traders to take advantage of the opportunities provided for them. A strong check was thus imposed upon the tendency of freemen to become the vassals of great lords. This movement was made so powerful by the troubles of the epoch that, had no other current of influence set in, the entire class of freemen must soon have disappeared. As they now knew that they could in the last resort find protection without looking to a superior, they had less temptation to give up their independence, and many of them settled in the towns, where they could be safe and free. Besides maintaining a manly spirit in the population, the towns rapidly added to their importance by the stimulus they gave to all kinds of industry and trade.

Before his death, Henry obtained the promise of the nobles at a national assembly or diet in Erfurt to recognize his son Otto as his successor, and the promise was kept. Otto I. (936-973) began his reign under the most favourable circumstances. He was twenty-four years of age, and to so high a pitch of honour had Henry raised the crown that, at the coronation festival, which was of unprecedented splendour, the dukes performed for the first time the nominally menial offices known as the arch offices of the German kingdom. These peaceful relations soon came to an end. It was Henry’s aim to establish the dukes in their rights, maintaining the royal authority rather by moral influence than by force. Otto, who was of haughty temper, despotic, and ambitious, seems early to have resolved that the dukes should act in the strictest sense as his vassals, or lose their dignities. At the time of his coronation Germany was virtually a federal state; he wished to transform it into a firm and compact monarchy. This policy speedily led to a formidable rebellion, headed by Thankmar, the king’s half-brother, a fierce warrior, who fancied that he had a prior claim to the crown, and who had managed to secure a number of followers in Saxony. He was joined by the dukes of Franconia and Bavaria; and it was only by the aid of the duke of Swabia, whom the duke of Franconia had offended, that the rising was put down. A second rebellion, led by Otto’s brother Henry, was supported, among other nobles, by the dukes of Franconia and Lorraine. Otto again triumphed, and derived immense advantages from his success. The duchy of Franconia he kept in his own hands, and he granted Lorraine to Conrad, an energetic and honourable count, whom he still further attached by promising him his daughter to wife. Bavaria, on the death of its duke, was placed under Henry, who, having been pardoned, had become a loyal subject and friend of his brother. The duchy of Swabia was also brought into Otto’s family by the marriage of his son Ludolf with the duke's daughter. By these means he made himself master of the kingdom, as none of his immediate predecessors had been. For the time, feudalism in truth meant that lands and offices were held on condition of service; the king was the genuine ruler, not only of freemen but of the highest vassals in the nation.

In the midst of his troubles at home Otto had brought fresh perplexities upon himself by intriguing in the West-Frankish kingdom against “Louis d’Outremer.” Louis responded with unexpected vigour, giving the signal for the second rising against Otto by invading Alsace. He also asserted a claim to Lorraine. When peace had been restored in Germany, Otto penetrated far into France, and received the homage of “Hugh the Great,” his son-in-law; but he soon returned, and afterwards used his great influence in favour of Louis against his rebellious nobles. Much more important than Otto’s doings in France were his wars with his northern and eastern neighbours. The duke of Bohemia, after a long struggle, was brought to submission. Among the Slavs between the Elbe and the Oder the king was represented by Margrave Gero, one of his most important vassals, a warrior well fitted for the rough work he had to do, loyal to his sovereign, but capable of any treachery towards his enemies, and sometimes guilty of outrageous harshness. This remarkable man conquered most of the country north of Bohemia between the Oder and the Upper and Middle Elbe. Margrave Billung, who looked after the Abotrites at the Lower Elbe, was less fortunate, mainly because of the neighbourhood of the Danes, who, after the death of King Henry, often attacked the hated Germans. At last they made Billung prisoner, and Otto himself had to proceed against them. Their king did him homage, and he reestablished the march of Schleswig, after which the margrave made rapid way among the Abotrites and Wends. Otto, having profound faith in the power of the church to reconcile conquered peoples to his rule, provided for the benefit of the Danes the bishoprics of Schleswig, Ripen, and Aarhuus; and among those which he established for the Slavs was the important bishopric of Brandenburg. In his later years he set up the archbishopric of Magdeburg, which took in the sees of Meissen, Zeitz, and Merseburg.

Having secured peace in Germany, and begun the real conquest of the border races, Otto was by far the greatest sovereign in Europe; and, had he and his successors refused to go beyond the limits within which he had hitherto acted, it is almost certain they would have established a united monarchy. But a decision to which Otto soon came deprived posterity of the results which might have sprung from the policy of his earlier years. About this time Adelaide, the young and beautiful widow of Lothair, son of King Hugh of Provence, having refused to marry the son of Berengar, king of Lombardy, was cast into prison and cruelly treated. She appealed to the mighty German sovereign, and the appeal not only touched his sympathies, but awoke an overmastering ambition, since the way was thus opened for a partial restoration of the Carolingian empire. At the head of a great force, accompanied by his son Ludolf and many of his chief nobles, he crossed the Alps in 951, and descended into Lombardy. He displaced Berengar, and was so fascinated by Queen Adelaide that within a few weeks he married her. Ludolf, who had received a promise of the German crown, saw his rights threatened by this marriage, and returned sullenly to Germany. He went to an old enemy of his father, the archbishop of Mainz, and the two plotted together against the king, who, hearing of their proceedings, hastily departed, leaving Duke Conrad of Lorraine to attend to Italy. Otto had already taken the title of king of Italy, and Duke Henry, who hoped to obtain a large addition to his duchy, joined Queen Adelaide in urging him to assert the claims of the old Frankish sovereigns. Conrad, however, soon appeared with the intelligence that he had restored the Italian kingdom to Berengar, although as a fief of the German crown. This news being roughly received, Conrad took offence, and entered into the conspiracy of Ludolf and the archbishop. Otto, who did not suspect how deep were their designs, paid a visit to Mainz, and there was compelled to take certain solemn pledges which, after his escape, he repudiated. War then broke out, and the struggle was the ∣ most serious in which he had been engaged. In Lorraine, of which Otto made his brother Bruno, archbishop of Cologne, administrator, his cause was triumphant; but everywhere else dark clouds gathered over his head. Henry of Bavaria was deserted by his vassals; in Swabia s in Franconia, and even in Saxony, the native land of the king, his own duchy, the majority sided with the rebels.

It is extremely remarkable that the movement acquired so quickly this force and volume. Tlιe explanation, according to some historians, is that the people looked forward with alarm ιυ the union of Germany with Italy aud the empire. There were still traditions of the hardships inflicted upon the common folk by the vast expeditions of Charles the Great, and it is supposed that they anticipated like evils in the event of his empire being once more set up. Whether or not this be the true explanation, the power of Otto was shaken to its foundations. At last he was saved by the presence of an immense external peril. The Magyars were as usual stimulated to action by the disunion of their enemies; and Conrad and Ludolf were guilty of the fatal crime and blunder of inviting their co-operation. This baseness disgusted the Germans, many of whom fell away from the enterprise, and rallied to the head and protector of the nation. In a very short time Conrad and the archbishop of Mainz submitted; and although Ludolf held out a little longer, he too broke down and entreated to be pardoned. The archbishop was ordered to be closely confined in a monastery, and soon afterwards died. Lorraine was given to Bruno; but Conrad, its former duke, although thus punished, was not disgraced, for Otto had urgent need of his services in the war with the Magyars. The great battle against them was fought in 9Õ5 at the Lechfeld, near Augsburg. They had never before appeared in such numbers, and there was a strong feeling on both sides that it was to be finally settled whether the work of King Henry should be completed or wholly overthrown. After a fierce and obstinate fight, in which Conrad with many other nobles fell, the question was decided in favour of Germany and of Europe; the Magyars were even more thoroughly scourged than in the battles in which Otto’s father had given them their first real check. The deliverance of Germany was complete, and from this time, notwithstanding certain wild raids towards the east, the Magyars began to settle in the land they still occupy, and to adapt themselves to the conditions of civilized life.

Entreated by Pope John XII., who needed a helper against King Berengar, Otto went a second time to Italy, in 962; and on this occasion he received from the pope the imperial crown. He did not return to Germany for more than two years; and in 966 he was again in Italy, where he remained six years, exercising to the full his imperial rights in regard to the papacy, but occupied mainly in an attempt to make himself mister of the southern as well as of the northern half of the peninsula.

By far the most important act of Otto’s eventful life was his assumption of the Lombard and the imperial crowns. His successors so steadily followed his example that the sovereign crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle claimed as his right to be afterwards crowmed in Milan and in Rome. Thus grew up the Holy Roman empire, that strange state which, directly descending, through the empire of Charles the Great, from the empire of the Caesars, contained so many elements foreign to ancient life. We are here concerned with it only in so far as it affected Germany. Germany itself never until our own day became an empire. It is true that at last the Holy Roman empire was as a matter of fact confined to Germany; but in theory it was something quite different. Like France, Germany was a kingdom, but it differed from France in this, that its king was also king in Italy and Roman emperor. As the latter title made him nominally the secular lord of the world, it might have been expected to excite the pride of his German subjects; and doubtless, after a time, they did learn to think highly of themselves as the imperial race. But the evidence tends to show that at first they had no wish for this honour, and would have much preferred had their ruler limited himself strictly to his own people.

There are signs that during Otto’s reign they began to have a distinct consciousness of national life, their use of the word “deutsch” to indicate the whole people being one of these symptoms. Their common sufferings, struggles, and triumphs, however, account far more readily fur this feeling than the supposition that they were elated by their king undertaking obligations which took him for years together from his native land. So solemn were the associations with the imperial title that, after acquiring it, Otto probably looked for more intimate obedience from his subjects. They were willing enough to admit its abstract claims; but in the world of feudalism there was a multitude of established customs and rights which rudely conflicted with them, and in action, remote and abstract considerations gave way before concrete and present realities. Instead of strengthening the allegiance of the Germans towards their sovereign, the imperial title was the means of steadily undermining it. To the connexion of their kingdom with the empire they owe the fact that for centuries they were the most divided of European nations, and that they have only now begun to create a genuinely united state. France was made up of a number of loosely connected lands, each with its own lord, when Germany, under Otto, was to a large extent moved by a single will, well organized, and strong. But the attention of the French kings was concentrated on their immediate interests, and in course of time they brought their unruly vassals to order. The German kings, as emperors, had duties which often took them away for long periods from Germany. This alone would have shaken their authority, for, during their absence, the great vassals seized rights which it was afterwards difficult to recover. But the emperors were not merely absent, they had to engage in struggles in which they exhausted the energies necessary to enforce obedience at home; and, in order to obtain help, they were sometimes glad to concede advantages to which, under other conditions, they would have tenaciously clung. Moreover, the greatest of all their struggles was with the papacy; so that a power outside their kingdom, but exercising immense influence within it, was in the end always prepared to weaken them by exciting dissension among their people. Thus the imperial crown was the most fatal gift that could have been offered to the German kings; apparently giving them all things, it deprived them of nearly everything. And in doing this, it inflicted on many generations incalculable aud needless suffering.

By the policy of his later years Otto did much to prepare the way for the process of disintegration which he rendered inevitable by restoring the empire. With the kingdom divided into five great duchies, the sovereign could always have maintained at least so much unity as King Henry secured; and, as the experience of Otto himself showed, therewi>uld have beenchances of much greater centralization. Yet he threw away this advantage. Lorraine was divided into two duchies, Upper Lorraine and Lower Lorraine. In each duchy of the kingdom he appointed a palsgrave, whose duty was to maintain royal rights; and after Margrave Gero died, his territory was divided into several marches, and placed under six margraves, each with the same powers as Gero, and having extensive lands. Otto gave up the practice of retaining the duchies either in his own hands or in those of relatives. Even Saxony, his native duchy, and the chief source of his strength, was given to Margrave Billung, whose family long afterwards kept it. As a set-off to the power of the princes—for the reigning immediate vassals of the crown ranked as princes—Otto, especially after he became emperor and looked upon himself as the protector of the church, immensely increased the importance of the prelates. They received great gifts of land, were endowed with jurisdiction in criminal as well as civil cases, and obtained several other valuable sovereign rights. The emperor’s idea was that, as church lands and offices could not be hereditary, their holders would necessarily favour the crown. But he forgot that the church had a head beyond Germany, and that the passion for the rights of an order may be not less intense than that for the rights of a family. While the empire was at peace with the popes, the prelates did strongly uphold it, and their influence was unquestionably, on the whole, higher than that of rude secular nobles. But with the empire and the papacy in conflict, they could not but abide, as a rule, by the authority which had the most sacred claims to their loyalty. From all these circumstances it curiously happened that the sovereign who did more than almost any other to raise the royal power, was also the sovereign who, more than any other, wrought its decay.

Otto II. (973-983) had been crowned king and co-imperator in his father’s lifetime. His troubles began within a year in Bavaria, which was now a very great duchy, not only including the valley of the Inn, but reaching up along the western frontier of Bohemia and the eastern frontiers of Swabia and Franconia as far as the Bohemian Forest. Henry, the brother of Otto I., had died soon after the battle of the Lechfeld, and had been succeeded by a young son, who, as he grew up, showed himself of so contentious a disposition that he was known as Henry the Wrangler. This young duke’s sister had married the aged duke of Swabia, over whom she had absolute control, so that the younger branch of the house of Saxony had acquired an importance which the emperor could not affect to ignore. Taking offence at some action of Otto’s, Henry the Wrangler conspired against him and rebelled. This first rebellion was easily put down, but Henry soon escaped from the imprisonment to which he was condemned, and then Bavaria was the scene of a war which gave occasion to great bloodshed. When at last Henry was overcome, his duchy was taken from him and granted to one of the emperor’s cousins, a son of Ludolf, who had caused so much anxiety to Otto I. As this prince had already received Swabia, Otto was able, without seeming to be harsh, to deprive Bavaria of some of its importance. The southern part, Carinthia, which had hitherto been a march, was separated from it and made a duchy; and the eastern march, Austria, was also taken away, and formally made over to Liutpold, of the Babenberg family, who had already ruled it for some time, and had proved himself a faithful vassal. Another member of the same house was invested with the Nordgau, a part of Bavaria to the north of the Danube, which formed a sort of wedge between Bohemia on the one hand and Franconia and Swabia on the other. Having arrived at this settlement, Otto went to chastise the unruly Bohemians; but while he was away war was begun behind him by the new duke of Carinthia, who, forgetful of the benefits he had just received, rose to avenge the wrongs of his friend Duke Henry. The emperor hastily concluded peace with Bohemia, the duke of which did him homage; and the rising was quickly put down. Henry was made over to the keeping of the bishop of Utrecht, and Carinthia received another duke.

In his anxiety to obtain southern Italy, Otto I. had secured, as wife for his successor, Theophano, daughter of the Byzantine emperor, to whom southern Italy belonged. Otto II., having all his father’s ambition with much of his strength and haughtiness, and being in the full flush of youth, longed to get away from Germany and to claim these remote possessions. But he was detained for some time by a sudden and unscrupulous invasion of Lower Lorraine in 978 by Lothair, king of France. So stealthily did the invader advance that the emperor and empress, who happened at the time to be at Aix-la-Chapelle, had just time to escape before the town was seized. As quickly as possible Otto placed himself at the head of a great army, and marched to Paris. The approach of winter compelled him to return without taking the city, which was well fortified; but soon afterwards Lothair gave up all claim to Lorraine, and peace was restored. At this time Lower Lorraine, which Otto I. had added to the crown lands, was held as a f fief of the German sovereign by King Lothair’s brother Charles, the last of the Carolings, whose claims to the Frenchsth'r'óñe were afterwards put aside in favour of Hugh the Great'.

At last Otto was able to fulfil the wish of his heart, and he did not again see Germany. His claims to southern Italy were vehemently opposed; and in 982 he suffered a disastrous defeat at the hands of the Greek emperor’s'subjects and their allies, the Saracens of Sicily,—saving his life by a romantic adventure. The tidings of this crushing blow cast gloom over Germany, and in the north and east the Danes and Slavs, as if the spell by which the first Otto had held them was broken, attacked the Germans with an audacity and a determination they had never before displayed. With the Danes the Saxons were able to cope; but the Slavs, who vehemently detested the German yoke, fought with such desperate courage that much of the work effected by Margraves Billung and Gero was altogether undone. They had seemed to be decisively conquered, but two centuries passed before they were beaten back to the position to which they had been reduced in the previous reign. Such were the first fruits of the assumption of the imperial title.

About a year before his sudden death in Borne, Otto held a diet in Verona which was attended by the German princes. They would not help him in his Italian enterprise, which was extremely unpopular; but they consented to recognize his infant son Otto as his successor. This child they took back with them to Germany, and after the emperor’s death he was crowned in Aix-la-Chapelle. Henry the Wrangler, as his near relative, was released from confinement and made hi is guardian; but as this restless prince soon showed an inclination to secure the crown for himself, the infant king was taken from him and placed under the charge of his mother Theophano. Afterwards, when she died, he lived with his grandmother, the empress Adelaide. While these two-ladies acted, one after the other, as regent, the chief functions of government were discharged by Willigis, archbishop of Mainz, a vigorous prelate who had risen from a humble rank to the highest position in the German Church. He was aided by the princes of the state, each of whom claimed to have a voice in the supreme administration. Under these conditions vigorous rule was impossible; so that during the minority of Otto the royal authority was greatly weakened. In Bavaria, after the death of Henry the Wrangler, the higher vassals, without waiting for the appointment of a duke, returned to the ancient German custom, and elected Henry’s son. A similar election took place in Thuringia, the head of which, although not a duke, ranked with the chief aristocracy. And along the coasts of Friesland was formed a virtually free state, which was at a later time'the scene of a long-continued contest between the Frieslanders and the powerful counts of Holland. At the age of fifteen Otto III. (983-1002) was declared to have reached his majority. He had been so carefully trained in all the ìeaTn-ing of the age that he was called “the wonder of the world,” and a certain fascination still attaches to his imaginative^ although somewhat fantastic, nature. His mother having imbued him with the extravagant conceptions of the Byzantine emperors, he introduced into his court an amount of splendour and ceremonial that had hitherto been unknown in western Europe. Most of his time he spent in Rome, and here he cherished a vast scheme by which he was tb ,r do* much more than recall the empire of Charles the GreâtVn’ its whole extent. As the heir of the Western emperors, and the grandson of an Eastern emperor, he fancied that he might unite the entire known world under his rule. Rome was to be its centre, and Germany but a province. In this vague design he was warmly encouraged by Gerbert, the greatest scholar of the day, whom, as Silvester II., he raised to the papal see. Silvester saw that in such an empire, with such an emperor, it would not be difficult for the papacy to become the real source of influence. Meanwhile Germany suffered severely from internal disorder and from the inroads of her rude neighbours; and when, in the year 1000—a year which Otto, with many others, feared might see the end of the world—he visited his northern kingdom, there were eager hopes that he would smite the national enemies with something of the vigour of his predecessors. But the imperial dreamer found it more interesting to go to Aix-la-Chapelle, and to descend into the tomb of the mighty Charles, beside whose gorgeously arrayed body, as it sat on its marble throne, he gave free scope to his fancy,—apparently under the strange impression that his was a spirit akin to that of the worldly and resolute conqueror. One practical step he did take, but it was in a direction contrary to that desired by his subjects. The Poles, of whom we hear first during the reign of Otto I., and who inhabited the country immediately to the east of the Oder, had since his time owed a vague allegiance to the Germans. They were now ruled by Boleslaus, a chief of an aggressive and determined spirit, who by ostentatious loyalty gained the goodwill of Otto III. The latter commissioned him to conquer the Pomeranians, a duty which he gladly and effectually discharged, adding to the Pomeranians the Prussians and some of the Bohemians. The large state thus formed the emperor made independent of Germany, probably in the hope that it might form the centre for a province of his future empire. Its Christian missions were severed from the church of Germany and formed into a new Polish church; and the emperor himself founded the head see at Gnesen, where his friend Adalbert had met a martyr’s death. This was done with the sanction of Pope Silvester, who at the same time established an independent national church in Hungary, and encouraged Stephen to become the first Magyar king, by sending him from Rome a golden crown.

Otto’s magnificent plans received a fatal shock from the insubordination of the Romans, for whose city he designed so much honour. When he died, perhaps by poison, there was no representative of the elder branch of the Saxon family, and several candidates came forward for the throne. Henry II. (1002-1024), son and successor of Henry the Wrangler, and therefore the great-grandson of King Henry I. by a younger line, managed to reach Aix-la-Chapelle before his chief rival, the duke of Swabia, and was there crowned. As he had not been elected, he was obliged to humble himself by going about among the princes and entreating their allegiance. His shattered health, querulous temper, and abject submission to priestly influence unfitted him for the great position to which he had raised himself, and his reign was an unfortunate one for Germany. For ten years civil war raged in Lorraine; in Saxony, too, torrents of blood were shed in petty quarrels. Hitherto it had been the right of the crown, when a duke or other prince died, to appoint his successor; and obviously no royal right was of greater importance. In Henry’s time the principle of inheritance was virtually established in favour of the immediate vassals of the sovereign. He the more willingly made this concession because of his extravagant generosity to the church, in which, like Otto I., he ∣ooked for his main support. He had his reward in the attachment of the papacy, by wshich he was ultimately canonized; but he succeeded no better than his predecessors in counterbalancing the secular by the spiritual princes. In his foreign wars he was as little prosperous as in his government at home. Boleslaus, who was now a powerful sovereign, had conquered Bohemia and Lusatia; and so anxious was Henry to win back these lands that, notwithstanding his Christian zeal, he obtained the alliance of certain Slavonic tribes by undertaking that their religion should not be interfered with. Bohemia and Lusatia were for a time detached from the Polish kingdom, but they were reconquered, and after a war of fourteen years the Pole was a greater ruler than ever. Henry went three times to Italy, and was crowned Lombard king and emperor. Before he became emperor, in order to assert his right of sovereignty over Rome, he called himself king of the Romans; and this was the designation borne by his successors until they received the higher title from the pope. Up to this time a sovereign crowned in Aix-la-Chapelle was simply “king of the East Franks” or “king of the Franks and Saxons.”

The great nobles now met at Oppenheim, and elected to the throne Conrad, a count of Franconia. The dukes of Upper and Lower Lorraine, with a number of prelates, opposed this choice; but their objections were overborne, and Conrad II. (1024-39) seemed to have no reason to dread internal enemies. Very soon, however, he had to battle with a formidable conspiracy, and during nearly his whole reign he was exposed to dangers of this kind; for he was a masterful king, looked with extreme jealousy on the rights the princes had acquired, and wished his crown to be the symbol of a genuine central authority. He was remarkably successful in contending with rebellion; and the chief cause of his success was that he allied himself with a powerful force, the significance of which had not been detected by previous sovereigns. Hitherto the vassals of great lords— the mediate nobles—had been very much at the mercy of their superiors. Conrad, seeing that he and they had a common danger, made them more independent. It was not until nearly the end of his reign that he issued his famous edict in Italy, decreeing that no fief-holder should be deprived of his fief without judgment of his peers; but he carried out this policy from the beginning in Germany, and even from the judgment of a fief-holder’s peers there was a right of appeal to the royal tribunals. The result of this policy was that the inferior fief-holders were unwilling to follow their lords against the king. Thus when Duke Ernest of Swabia, his stepson, rose against him,and appealed to his men, as in old times, to make his cause their own, they refused, urging that the sovereign was the supreme protector of their liberties. Conrad soon revealed that his object was the same as that which Otto I. long pursued,—not to do away with the duchies, but to get them, if possible, under his immediate control. The principle of inheritance he extended to the throne; and in his case it was recognized, his son Henry being crowned as his successor soon after he himself became king. To young King Henry he granted Bavaria in fief, when the reigning duke, by rising against him, forfeited his title; and afterwards, despite the bitter opposition of the nobles, he invested the same prince with Swabia, the ducal family of which died out. Carinthia, being vacant, was given to Conrad’s nephew. As Franconia ever since the time of Otto had remained in the hands of the sovereign, Saxony, Thuringia, and the two Lorraines were the only duchies of which Conrad was not more or less master.

When Conrad mounted the throne, the safety of Germany was endangered from three different points. On the north Denmark was ruled by Canute, the great English sovereign; on the east was the wide Polish state, whose sovereign Boleslaus crowned himself king, and still had possession of Bohemia and Lusatia; to the south-east was Hungary, which, under Stephen I., was rapidly becoming an organized and formidable power. Conrad was prudent enough to ask in marriage for his son Henry Canute’s daughter; and in return he ceded to Denmark the march of Schleswig. The Danes thus became the friends of the Germans, and were of service to them in keeping down the Wends. With Hungary, Conrad waged war, but not successfully, for, although a statesman, he appears to have been no great general. He was more fortunate in Poland; Boleslaus having died, the Poles plunged into a furious civil war, and he was able to turn their disunion to his own advantage. Moreover, a youthful hero, Breteslaus, an illegitimate son of the duke of Bohemia, having carried away from a convent a young German lady, a powerful noble’s daughter, whom he passionately loved, and who had unbounded influence over him, was induced to place his sword at the disposal of Conrad, and by a single raid he drove the Poles from Lusatia. Lusatia and Bohemia were thus restored to Germany, and the Polish ruler, who now claimed no higher title than duke, did homage to Conrad for his lands.

In Italy Conrad was ill received, for although as emperor aud Lombard king he was its lawful sovereign, the Germans were still looked upon as intruders, and by force alone they could maintain their rights. The event which at the time threw most lustre on his reign was his acquisition of the kingdom of Burgundy or Arles. It was bequeathed to him by Rudolf III., whose niece Gisela was Conrad’s wife. In 1032 he was crowned, and was at once recognized by the German-speaking population. The others resisted, but in two years all opposition had been overcome, and he received in Geneva the homage of the leading southern nobles. This beautiful kingdom was full of prosperous cities, and its possession seemed to add incalculably to the power of the German kings; but in the end it proved an occasion of humiliation rather than of strength.

Henry III. (1039-56), who had been crowned, while his father was alive, king of Burgundy as well as of Germany, had none of the rudeness and reckless impulsiveness which marred Conrad’s great qualities; but he had the same decisive judgment, far-reaching ambition, and irresistible will. In the later years of Conrad, Breteslaus, the young Bohemian prince who had served him so well in Lusatia, having succeeded his father as duke of Bohemia, waged war in his own interest against the disunited Poles, and easily brought their whole state into subjection. As he showed signs of wishing to become an independent sovereign, Henry invaded his territory, and so completely overcame him that he appeared before the king in Ratisbon, barefooted and in a penitent’s garb. Henry treated him generously, and was rewarded by receiving to the end of his reign the service of a loyal vassal; and the young king also gained the good-will of the Poles by placing over them their lawful prince, Casimir, who willingly did homage for his land. The king of Denmark, too, acknowledged Henry as his feudal lord. Moreover, by several campaigns in Hungary, forced upon him by the violence of its king, Samuel, son-in-law of Stephen I., Henry brought that country for the first time, but only temporarily, into the position of a fief of the German crown. In Germany itself he acquired, during the first ten years of his reign, an authority which had been unknown since the days of Otto I. His bitter enemy, Duke Gottfried of Upper Lorraine, who conspired against him time after time, and found powerful allies in certain Burgundian nobles and in the counts of Flanders and of Holland, was beaten down; and he was able to dispense against the most powerful princes the laws of the kingdom, and to force them to maintain the public peace. Under this severe and beneficent rule Germany enjoyed a period of internal quiet such as she had probably never before experienced. But even Henry could not permanently divert from its course the central political tendency of the age. The princes, convinced that his aim was to bring the duchies under his direct authority, and thus to create a monarchy which should have but one head, sullenly awaited their opportunity; and it came when, .in 1052, after a ten months’ siege of Presburg, he was obliged to retreat precipitately from Hungary. The influence of his great fame was shaken, and from this time he had to contend against warlike nobles. On one occasion he found out, only through the death-bed repentance of a rebel, that he was the object of a widespread conspiracy, which, had he remained in ignorance, would inevitably have succeeded. Even the mediate nobles, who had stood loyally by Conrad, were not his friends; for his wars made serious demands upon them, and his administration of justice was often stricter in regard to their class than they quite approved. Although at the time of his death he was still one of the most powerful sovereigns who ever reigned in Germany, he was obliged to adopt a conciliatory policy,—even Duke Gottfried, after all his offences, being established in his duchy.

At the beginning of Henry’s reign the church all over Europe was in a deplorable condition. Simony in its basest forms was almost universally practised, and morality among the clergy was at its lowest ebb. The papacy, too, had sunk into a degraded state, its authority being annihilated, not only by the character of successive popes, but by the fact that there were at the same time three claimants of the Roman see. These evils were regarded with sorrow by Henry, who was a man of sincere and rigorous piety. Associating himself with the reforming movement which proceeded from Cluny, he not only commanded and pleaded with his prelates to put an end to abuses, but resolved to strike the evil at its root by stern exercise of his imperial rights. In 1046 he entered Rome at the head of an army which had secured for him in northern Italy such respect as had been given to noGerman ruler since Charles the Great, and summarily deposed the three popes whose contentions had caused scandal throughout Christendom. He then raised to the papal see the bishop of Bamberg as Clement II., who crowned him emperor; and after Clement, when death made fresh appointments necessary, three other German popes, Damasus II., Leo IX., and Victor II. Under these popes a new era began for the church and for the papacy. Behind the two latter was the stern, unfaltering, high-minded Hildebrand, who, as their adviser, silently prepared the way for his own memorable term of rule. In thus reforming the papacy, Henry III. fulfilled what was regarded as the noblest duty of his imperial office; but he also sharpened a weapon whose keen edge was first tried against his son.

The last years of Henry III. form a turning-point in German history. Great kings and emperors came after him; but none of them possessed the direct, absolute authority which he freely wielded; even in the case of the strongest, the forms of feudalism more and more interposed themselves between the monarch and the nation, and at last royal authority virtually altogether disappeared. The process was hastened by the unfortunate fact that Henry III. was;succeeded by a child. The infant king, Henry IV. (1056-1106), was at first in charge of his mother, the empress Agnes, a lady of excellent qualities, but too gentle for a position which demanded the exercise of stem virtues. Her rule was jealously watched by Anno, archbishop of Cologne, a rigid churchman of imposing personality, cold to the ordinary interests of the world, but passionately devoted to his order. Discontented by the predominant influence of the bishop of Augsburg at court, he managed, by a clever trick, to get possession of the king and the insignia of royalty. Agnes, knowing his power, and deserted by her friends, retired from the regency; and Anno began forthwith to rule the state. By and by he was compelled by the diet to share his duties with Adalbert, archbishop of Bremen, who was not less ambitious than Anno, but was as gay, sociable, and worldly as his rival was proud and morose. In the end Adalbert made himself complete master of Henry, who thus grew up under the most diverse influences. The young king was generous, and endowed with considerable intellectual gifts; but, passing as he did from the gloomy palace in Cologne, where he lived a monk’s life under terrible censors, to the palace in Bremen, where he was petted and flattered, he became wayward and self-willed. He assumed the duties of government at the age of fifteen, and soon made enemies of nearly all the chief princes. In Saxony, where, like his father, he held his court, he excited by a series of injudicious proceedings intense hostility. While the Ottos were in pursuit of the imperial phantom, a number of the crown lands in this duchy had been seized by nobles whose descendants now held them. Henry insisted on restoring these; and, as Henry I. had taken possession of the domains of his Carolingian predecessors, so Henry IV. claimed the domains of his Saxon predecessors. As if this were not enough, he built a number of fortresses which the free peasantry imagined were intended for prisons; he kept in confinement the heir to the duchy, and he persistently spoke of the Saxons in a tone of supreme contempt. All classes were thus combined against him; and in 1073 the universal discontent found expression in a vast popular assembly, attended alike by freemen and by nobles, and in which—such was the gratitude of the church for royal favours—a leading place was taken by the archbishop of Magdeburg and by the bishop of Halbertstadt, the former the brother, the latter the nephew, of Archbishop Anno. Henry was surprised by a band of rebels in his fortress of Harzburg, near Goslar. Attended by a few followers he escaped, and appealed to the princes for support; but he could;not compel their aid, and of free will they would grant him nothing. After tedious and degrading negotiations, in jwhich he was accused of every kind of crime, he was at last Obliged to yield the demands of his enemies. As ½ése:démands did not include the destruction of the fortresses, the peasants, fancying they were betrayed, refused toιday down their arms, and stormed through the duchy, not' only battering down the detested buildings, but even destroying the chapel of the Harzburg fortress and committing acts of desecration with ruthless fury. This so alarmed the princes, both spiritual and secular, that Henry was able to advance with a large army into Saxony, where in 1075 he gained a decisive victory, and re-established the authority of the crown.

While Germany was in this confused state, Hildebrand had:become pope, as Gregory VIL, and in 1075 he issued his'famous decree against the marriage of the clergy and agáiíist their' investiture by laymen,—for boldness and vastness the most magnificent policy ever devised, since, had it been effected, the pope must have become the secular as well as the spiritual lord of Christendom. So quickly had the reforming zeal of Henry III. made the papacy a power which threatened to overshadow the world. To the decree as to investiture it was impossible for any sovereign to submit, and in Germany there were stronger reasons than elsewhere for resistance. Half the land of the country was held by the clergy, and most of it had been granted to them because, in virtue of their feudal relation to the sovereign, it was supposed that they would <be his most efficient helpers. Had the feudal tie been broken, the crown would soon have vanished, and the constitution of mediaeval society must have undergone a radical change. Henry, who had hitherto treated the new pope with excessive respect, and was believed at the Vatican to have no strength of character, now announced nis intention of going to Rome and assuming the imperial title. The pope, to whom the Saxons had been encouraged to make complaint, responded by sending back certain messengers of Henry’s, with the command that he should do penance for the crimes of which his subjects accused him. Enraged by this unlooked-for arrogance, Henry summoned a synod of German bishops, who declared Hildebrand deposed. The answer was a bull excommunicating the German king, dethroning him, and liberating his subjects from their oath of allegiance.

Never had a pope ventured to take so bold a step. It was within the memory of even young men that a German king had dismissed three popes, and raised, one after another, four of his own prelates to the Roman see. And now a pope attempted to drag from his throne the successor of this very sovereign. The effect of the bull was tremendous; no other was ever followed by equally important results. The princes had long been chafing under royal power; they had shaken even so stern an autocrat as Henry III., and the authority of Henry IV. was already visibly lowered. At this important stage in their contest with the crown a mighty ally suddenly offered himself, and, with indecent eagerness, they hastened to associate themselves with him. Their vassals and subjects, appalled by the invisible powers wielded by the head of the church, supported them in their rebelliousness. Henry had looked for no such result as this; he had not comprehended the influences which lay beneath the surface, and was horrified by his unexpected isolation. At a diet in Oppenheim he in vain humbled himself before the princes. They turned from him coldly, and decided that the pope should be asked to come to Germany to investigate, along with themselves, the accusations brought against him; that if, within a year, the sentence of excommunication were not removed, the king should lose his crown; and that in the meantime he should live in retirement.

Now came the strange scene at Canossa which burned itself into the memory of Europe. For three days, in the depth of winter, the representative of the Caesars, clad in a penitent’s shirt, shivered in the outer court of the Countess Mathilda’s castle, entreating to be admitted into the pope’s presence. No other mode of escape than complete subjection to Gregory had suggested itself, or was perhaps possible; but it did not save him. Although the pope in a manner forgave him, the German princes, being resolved not to miss the chance which fortune had given them, met in his absence and deposed him, electing Rudolf, duke of Swabia, as his successor. But Henry’s bitter humiliations transformed his character; they brought out all his latent capacities of manliness. From being a wilful, thoughtless lad, he became a resolute man, with many evil traces indeed of his irregular training, but with a deep consciousness of his rights, and a fixed determination to maintain them.

The war that followed —the war of investitures—was the opening of that tremendous struggle between the empire and the papacy, which is the central fact of mediaeval history, and which, after two centuries of conflict, ended in the exhaustion of both powers. Its details belong more to the history of Italy than to that of Germany, but in Germany its effects were most deeply felt. It was now that the nation plucked the bitter fruits of the seed planted by Otto I. in assuming the imperial crown, and both by Otto and his predecessors and successors in lavishing worldly power upon the church. In the ambition of the spiritual and the secular princes the popes had an immense engine of offence against the emperors; and they unscrupulously turned it to the utmost advantage. The most loyal friends of the emperors were the cities. They had been steadily growing up, especially in the Rhine country and in southern Germany, and could not but see that they had far more to fear from the princes than from the crown. Hence, when Henry returned to Germany, Worms, Spires, and many other towns opened their gates to him, and freely contributed of their wealth; and towards his successors they pursued a like policy.

After several indecisive battles the rival king, Rudolf, was, in 1080, defeated and slain. Henry then carried the war into Italy, where he was crowned emperor by his own antipope, and in 1085 Hildebrand died an exile from Rome, although with unbroken spirit. In Germany two other rival kings were set up, Hermann, count of Luxembourg, and Ekbert, margrave of Meissen; but they were only partially successful, and after the death of the latter in 1089, had Germany followed her own impulses, there would have been peace. In the papacy, however, Henry had an implacable foe; and again and again, when he seemed to be on the point of complete triumph, it kindled anew the smouldering embers. His son Conrad was stirred up against him in Italy; and iu Germany, when he was near the end of his days, his second son Henry was induced to head a dangerous rebellion. During his reign the first crusade took place, and he suffered severely from the pious zeal which it expressed and intensified. The movement was not in the end favourable to papal supremacy, but the early crusaders, and those who sympathized with them, regarded the enemies of the pope as the enemies of religion.

Pope Paschal II. did not doubt, after the death of Henry IV., that he would immediately triumph, but he was mistaken. Henry V. (1106-25), who had promised, with unconscious irony, to treat him as a father, went on, like his predecessors, investing prelates with ring and staff, and, when expostulated with, replied that he could not be expected to give’up a right which had belonged to all previous kings. War broke out anew, and, as in the time of Henry IV., the pope found enthusiastic supporters among the princes. One of the most ardent of these was Lothair, whom Henry V. himself had made duke of Saxony, after the extinction of the Billung line, by which for a century and a half the duchy had been ruled. Henry’s chief friends were the two Hohenstaufen princes, Frederick and Conrad, to the former of whom Henry IV. gave the duchy of Swabia when Rudolf became his rival king, while the latter was created by Henry V. duke of Franconia, a country which had been attached to the crown lands since the time of Otto I. These two brothers were enthusiastic imperialists, and upheld with persistent courage the cause of their sovereign on the repeated occasions on which he went to Italy to chastise the pope. At last, in 1122, peace was restored by the concordat of Worms. By this compromise, which was forced by exhaustion upon both parties, the right of electing the prelates was granted to the clergy, and the emperor resigned the right of investing them with ring and staff. On the other hand, it was arranged that the elections should take place in the presence either of the emperor or of his representative, and that he should invest the prelates with the sceptre. The papacy was thus very far from realizing the great schemes of Hildebrand; still, even in regard to the particular question in dispute, it gained solid advantages, and its general authority was incomparably more important than it had been half a century before. For it had waged war on the emperor himself; instead of acknowledging its inferiority as in old times, it had claimed to be the highest power; it had even attempted to dispose of the imperial crown as if the empire were a fief which it granted of its good will; and it had found out that it could at any time hamper, perhaps paralyse, imperial authority, by exciting strife in Germany.

The Franconian dynasty died out with Henry V., and Lothair, duke of Saxony, was elected to succeed him. Lothair (1125-37) excited the enmity of the Hohenstaufen princes by demanding that they should give up certain crown lands which had been incorporated with their duchies. Unable to defend himself against them without help, he secured a powerful ally by granting his daughter in marriage to Henry the Proud, grandson of Welf, a prince whom Henry IV. had made duke of Bavaria. As this vehement noble soon succeeded to Bavaria, and was also invested with Saxony, he became by far the greatest subject in Germany. Nevertheless, the duke of Franconia and the duke of Swabia withstood him, and not until within three years of the emperor’s death were they forced to crave for peace. A considerable portion of Lothair’s reign was spent in Italy; and Innocent II. claimed that when he received the imperial crown he did so as a vassal of the pope.

Nothing could indicate more clearly than this fact how much of their old power the German kings had lost. It was not past hope that even yet some of their former splendour might be restored; and for a brief period monarchy did again stand high. Still, its foundations were sapped. Incessant war, both at home and in Italy, had deprived it of its force; it had lost moral influence by humiliations of which the scene at Canossa was an extreme type. Steadily, with unwearied energy, letting no opportunity escape, the princes had advanced towards independence, and they might well look forward to such a bearing in regard to the kings as the kings had formerly adopted in regard to them.

Later Mediaeval Period.

Henry the Proud was confident that he would succeed Lothair; but, by a hasty and irregular election, Conrad, duke of Franconia, was chosen king. Conrad III. (1137-52), an impulsive and not very wise ruler, found himself at once in serious perplexities. Henry the Proud, knowing that evil was designed against him, rebelled, whereupon he was declared to have forfeited his duchies; and Saxony was granted to Albert the Bear, a strong and truly great Saxon noble, while Bavaria fell to Leopold, margrave of Austria. Thus again the country was ravaged by war, for Henry the Proud, although he was unpopular in Bavaria—the duchy he had inherited—was powerfully upheld in Saxony, which, ever since Henry IV. had alienated it, had always been ready to join in an attack on the monarchy. Henry suddenly died, but the struggle was continued by his brother Duke Welf; and, but for the opportune death of some of the chief combatants, among them Leopold of Bavaria, it seemed probable that it would go hard with the king. Welf, hoping to be made Leopold’s successor, agreed to a compromise, by which Saxony, with the assent of Albert the Bear, was granted to Henry—afterwards Henry the Lion— the young son of Henry the Proud. Bavaria, however, was in the end given to Henry Jasomirgott (so called from his habit of saying “Ja so mir Gott helfe!”), margrave of Austria, a rough noble, who was afterwards found to have a decidedly inconvenient temper. Welf again took to arms, and for years contended with his rival. Notwithstanding this and many other sources of confusion, Conrad was persuaded by tho passionate eloquence of St Bernard to take part in the second crusade. He came back broken, dispirited, and near his end, to find Henry the Lion at the head of a great army, claiming Bavaria in addition to Saxony, —a claim which Conrad in vain attempted to dispute.

Germany now passed under one of the greatest of her sovereigns, Frederick Barbarossa (1152-90), nephew of King Conrad, and son of the Frederick, duke of Swabia, who had fought along with Conrad against Henry the Proud. He was a man of large and noble nature, capable, indeed, if resisted, of great harshness, but a passionate lover of justice, with far-reaching ideals, ready to battle with gigantic difficulties, yet knowing how to recognize and submit to the inevitable. Allied to the Welfs through his mother, and having a personal regard for Henry the Lion, he was anxious to bring to an end the strife of the Welfic and the Hohenstaufen families, and began his reign by promising to secure for Henry the duchy of Bavaria. For his adventurous and imaginative spirit the splendour of the imperial name had an irresistible charm; and two years after he ascended the throne, in 1154, he went to Rome to be crowned emperor. After this the best years of his life were spent in Italy, where, in his obstinate struggle with the Lombard cities and with Pope Alexander HL, he chiefly acquired his fame. Although it was conducted on his side mainly with German troops, it properly comes under Italian history, in which the record of his reign forms a bloody page, while his name is associated with one of the most peaceful and prosperous periods in the internal history of Germany.

The promise that Bavaria should be granted to Henry the Lion was not easily fulfilled, for Henry Jasomirgott doggedly refused to give it up. At last, however, Frederick, after his return from his first expedition to Italy, in 1156, reconciled the surly prince by detaching Austria, his native march, from Bavaria, and making it a duchy with certain special privileges,—an important step in the process by which Austria gradually became the centre of a powerful state. Henry the Lion then became duke both of Bavaria and of Saxony. This prince often gave offence by a haughty and aggressive disposition, but few German dukes won so true a title to the good-will of posterity. Since the time of Otto II. and Otto III. the Slavonic countries to the east of Saxony had been very imperfectly held in subjection. Henry devoted himself to the conquest of the territory along the shores of the Baltic, and he succeeded as no one before him had ever done. But he was not a mere conqueror; he built towns and encouraged those which already existed, founded bishoprics in the newly-won lands, and planted in them bodies of industrious colonists. While he was thus at work, a similar task was fulfilled a little to the south of him by Albert the Bear, the first margrave of Brandenburg, who, by just and energetic rule, worthily prepared the land for its great, although far-off, destinies.

Early in his reign, by settling a dispute between two brothers who claimed the crown of Denmark, Frederick brought the king of that country once more into the position of a vassal of Germany. He broke into Poland also, and compelled its ruler to do homage, and, in return for great services rendered in his Polish campaign, raised the duke of Bohemia to royal rank,—a change which in no way affected his duties to the German crown, but which gave him a certain precedence over all other subject princes. The king of Hungary, although no attempt was made to subdue him, became a useful ally of Frederick. Thus the ancient fame of Germany, which was lost during the confusion that came after Henry III., was to a large extent restored in the neighbouring countries. Frederick reasserted the royal authority in Burgundy, and added to the kingdom, by right of marriage, Upper Burgundy, or, as it was afterwards called, Franche Comté. Internal quiet he established by strictly applying such laws as existed against those who should break the peace; and the robber nobles never found a more implacable enemy. The cities flourished during his reign, and he attached them to himself by granting to many of them the very liberties which, by a too literal interpretation of his imperial rights, he withheld from the cities of Lombardy. Yet, with all this, the nobles appear to have been enthusiastically devoted to him. They followed him time after time into Italy, going through incredible sufferings that he might assert claims which were of no advantage to them, and which had been a curse to their nation. On one occasion, when a too confident legate read before the diet a papal letter, which seemed to imply that the empire was a fief of the papacy, indignant murmurs broke from the assembly, and the life of the offender was saved only by the intervention of Frederick himself. The secret of this great popularity was partly the national pride excited by his foreign achievements, partly the ascendency which his genius gave him over other minds, partly the conviction that, while he would abate nothing of his rights, he would ask no more than the laws of the empire sanctioned.

In the later years of Frederick’s reign, Henry the Lion had the misfortune to incur his deep displeasure. The duke, rendered arrogant by success, positively refused, because his conditions were not admitted, to attend the emperor in the Italian campaign which resulted in the fatal battle of Legnano. Ascribing this defeat wholly to Henry, Frederick returned to Germany resolved to work his ruin. Summoned on three different occasions to attend the diet, Henry held aloof; whereupon, by judgment of his peers, he was condemned to the loss of both his duchies. After some resistance he submitted; but the utmost favour he could secure was permission to retain Brunswick and Lüneburg, while his term of banishment to England was reduced from seven years to three. Bavaria was granted to Otto of Wittelsbach, but it lost much of its importance, for, among other changes, Styria was taken from it and made a separate duchy. Saxony was finally broken up. The duchy was confined to a comparatively small territory to the east of Brunswick and Lüneburg, and conferred upon Bernard, son of Albert the Bear, while most of the western half of the country was attached, as the duchy of Westphalia, to the archbishopric of Cologne. The chief prelates of Saxony, and many of the most important vassals of ’ the duke, such as the counts of Oldenburg, of Holstein, and of Schwerin, were made virtually independent of all control save that of the crown. Frederick’s object in thus disintegrating the two greatest duchies in the kingdom was, by playing off the nobles against each other, to secure imperial authority. But, in reality, he made it doubly certain that the princes would one day shake off imperial power altogether; for it was incomparably more difficult for the sovereign to contend with scores of petty nobles than with two or three great lords.

Towards the close of Frederick’s career fortune appeared to smile upon him. Germany was at peace; even in Italy, since the force of events had persuaded him that the time was past for too severe a straining of his lawful claims, he had been well received by the cities which had wrought him so much disaster; pope and emperor were temporarily reconciled; and, by the marriage of his son Henry with the princess Constantia, he had reason to hope that the empire would soon include Naples and Sicily. Resolving that the sunset of his life should be even more splendid than its dawn, he undertook the third crusade, and started with a great army for the Holy Land. When the news reached Germany that he had been drowned, men felt that evil days must come, since the elements of strife could no longer be controlled by his strong hand.

Evil days did not, however, come in the time of Henry VI. (1190-97), who, although without his father’s greatness of soul, had his determination and energy. Partly by means of the immense ransom obtained from his prisoner Richard of England, he was able to beat down resistance in the south Italian kingdom to which his marriage entitled him; and the papacy was more completely subject to him than it had ever been to Frederick. In Germany he was so powerful that he not only secured the election of his infant son Frederick as king of the Romans (as a king elected during the lifetime of an emperor was now and henceforth called), but he made proposals that the crown should be declared hereditary. To secure this important end, he offered so many concessions that, but for his sudden death, it would probably have been achieved.

Great as was Henry’s authority, there had been a dangerous conspiracy against even him, and after his death the princes who had taken part in it refused, to recognize his son. There was now a double election, those who were favourable to the Hohenstaufen dynasty choosing Philip, Henry’s brother, their enemies appointing Otto, son of Henry the Lion. Had Germany had no relation to the papacy, or had the papacy continued as weak as in the days of Henry VI., there could have been no doubt how the strife would end. A large majority of the princes were on Philip’s side, and his personal character commanded universal respect, while Otto was a man without principle, harsh and violent. But, to Germany’s misfortune, the papal see was at this time held by Innocent III., a pope in whom were revived the ambition, statesmanship, and force of Hildebrand. After a little delay he decided for Otto, and thenceforward for some years the country was desolated by civil war. Even with the help of the pope, Otto by and by lost ground; and Philip, had he not been murdered, in 1208, would soon have been universally acknowledged. After his death, however, there was no longer any excuse for war, and Otto IV. was crowned emperor. While his position was undecided he remained a humble suppliant of the pope, but after his coronation he cast aside his pledges, and began to act as an independent sovereign. Up to this time Frederick, the son of Henry VI., had lived in his southern kingdom, nominally under the guardianship of Innocent, but in reality left to be trained by the severe discipline of practical life. Although the pope did not altogether like him, he now resolved to punish Otto by bringing forward this young prince as a candidate for the German throne. A party among the princes was easily induced to elect him, and in 1214 he started, full of youthful hope, on his journey across the Alps. In the period which followed, he displayed an unsurpassed power of managing men; while Otto, thinking to injure him by indirectly striking a heavy blow at his patron the pope, was short-sighted enough to leave Germany and to support John of England against the French king, Philip Augustus. In the battle of Bouvines, memorable alike in the history of England, France, and Germany, his fate was sealed. After so crushing a defeat nothing remained for him but to make way for his rival by withdrawing from public life.

Frederick II. (1212-50), if not the strongest, was personally the most brilliant, of the German kings. With the mediaeval passion for adventure he combined the intellectual freedom and culture of a modern gentleman. A lover of poetry, of science, and of art, he was also a great statesman; with a power of will which the most adverse circumstances could not break, he knew how to adapt his policy to changing circumstances, and how to move men by appealing at one time to their selfishness and weakness, at another to the most ideal qua!ities of human nature. And for outward splendour his position never was surpassed, since, when he died, he possessed no fewer than six crowns,—the imperial crown, and the crowns of Germany, Burgundy, Lombardy, Sicily, and Jerusalem. But Germany, his proper kingdom, profited not at all by his magnificent gifts. In 1220 he left it for a space of 15 years, to accomplish his famous crusade, to carry on his bitter contest with the Lombard cities and Pope Gregory IX., and to rule Sicily, with an insight into its needs that made it the most prosperous land in Christendom. In his absence he was represented in Germany by his young son Henry, who was crowned king of the Romans, and in whose name the country was governed by two successive regents. Throughout the kingdom the princes did very much what seemed good in their own eyes; and in the north a confused warfare was carried on between the Germans and the Danes. As there was now no powerful Saxon duke to uphold the northern interests of the kingdom, and as the central Government did not choose, or was unable, to act with energy, the Danes had decidedly the best of this struggle, and extended their power along the Baltic coast. At the same time Prussia was conquered for Christianity and for civilization by the knights of the Teutonic Order, who here slowly built up the state which ultimately, in association with Brandenburg, was to influence so profoundly the course of history. Crusading knights from all lands came to their help against the Prussian heathen, and their strength was permanently increased by their union with the Knights of the Sword, who, before their appearance in Prussia, had been subduing Livonia and Courland. In all these countries Christian institutions were introduced, and German settlers brought with them the peaceful arts.

As young King Henry grew up, he displayed none of the good characteristics of his house, and in 1235 he openly rebelled. So confident was Frederick of his own position that he entered Germany with only a few personal attendants, and his presence had the effect he anticipated. At Mainz, amid circumstances of unprecedented pomp, he held a diet which was attended by nearly all the princes, and Henry was solemnly deposed. Yet Frederick was in •reality watched with sullen suspicion. The princes did not know what might be implied in his extraordinary display of imperial power; they resented his evident dislike of their country; as loyal sons of the church, they could not but hold somewhat aloof from one who was believed to be at heart a Mahometan. It was significant of the limits of his influence that, in declaring private war to be unlawful, he had to except cases in which justice could not be obtained; and that, although desirous of setting up courts of justice which should make private war unnecessary, he could only establish a tribunal from whose jurisdiction princes of the empire were excluded.

Some years after this, the gulf between Frederick and the nation was further widened by his indifference to a fearful danger by which Germany was threatened. Hordes of Mongols appeared on the eastern frontiers, yet Frederick had neither counsel nor help for his subjects; the peril was warded off independently of him by the brave margrave, Henry of Liegnitz. At that time he was once more absorbed by his Italian wars. In Innocent IV. he found an enemy quite as persistent as Gregory IX. Innocent grasped at the old and well-tried weapon, the ambition of the princes; and he succeeded so far as to induce a number of them, mostly prelates, to accept his sentence of deposition, and to appoint a rival king. The king of their choice was Henry Raspe, landgrave of Thuringia, a rude noble, who had extended his territories at the expense of those of his dead brother, husband of the famous St Elizabeth of Hungary. Frederick’s younger son, Conrad, who had some time before been elected king of the Romans, resisted the parsons’ king, as Henry Raspe was popularly called; and the rebellion did not at any time assume dangerous proportions. After Henry Raspe’s death, the papal party elected William, count of Holland, a prince who had no quality to recommend him, except that he was young and weak, and therefore likely to be a willing tool in the hands of his friends. Had Frederick chosen to leave the Lombard cities, he might still have found sources of strength in Germany; but he preferred to remain at what he considered the centre of his empire, and King Conrad had not influence enough to restore harmony. At the time of the emperor’s death, when he was almost ready to make a new spring at his enemies, but when to the world he seemed to have lost everything, the prospects of his supporters were dark indeed. They acknowledged Conrad IV. as their lawful sovereign, but he, too, fought in Italy rather than at home, and the country continued till his death, in 1254, to be torn by the two contending factions.

With King Conrad IV. the Hohenstaufen line came to an end in Germany, and William of Holland received a nominal allegiance. In two years he followed his predecessors, and then there was a double election, that of Alphonso, king of Castile, and Richard, earl of Cornwall, brother of Henry III. of England. Richard was crowned, but he went to Germany only three times, and the majority of his subjects probably hardly knew his name. Alphonso never even visited the country of which he also claimed to be the sovereign.

The age of the Hohenstaufen emperors is, in many respects, the most interesting in the mediaeval history of Germany. Everywhere there were dramatic contrasts of character: in the innumerable struggles of the time we are struck, now by heroic devotion, again by almost incredible selfishness; a gay enjoyment of the world as it is existed side by side with almost superhuman spirituality. Chivalry was in full bloom, with much in its nature that was fantastic and insincere, but keeping alive a beautiful ideal of manliness, courtesy, and generosity. Women never held a higher place, nor, on the whole, did they ever respond more nobly to the honours freely lavished upon them. The excitement of the crusades, contact with the life of Italy (in that age presenting so many elements fitted to awaken even dull minds), and study of the Provençal poets revealed worlds that had been hitherto unknown; while the national genius for the first time flowered in the romances and lyrics of the Minnesänger. In the cities, magnificent churches in the Gothic style gave expression to high aspiration, and gratified a cultivated feeling for art. And the problems of government were seen in new lights, partly from the study of Roman law which passed from Italy to Germany, partly from the summaries of native custom in the “Sachsenspiegel” and “Schwabenspiegel.” Altogether, Germany has seen no more fascinating epoch, none more full of life, movement, and colour.

Yet it was in this age that the German nation utterly lost its political strength. Even after Lothair the Saxon, a line of sovereigns rigidly confining themselves to their own kingdom might have mastered the many influences which were making for disunion. But the Hohenstaufen family, like their Saxon and Franconian predecessors, would be content with nothing short of worlddominion; and thus the crown which had once been significant of power and splendour gradually sank into contempt. Under the strong rule of Frederick Barbarossa and his son the process was temporarily stopped, but only to advance the more rapidly when they were gone. During the confusion of the civil war carried on by Otto IV. and Philip, the princes, being subject to hardly any check, seized crown lands and crown rights; and the mischief was too extensive to be undone by Frederick II. In 1220, in order to secure the adhesion of the church to his son Henry, he formally confirmed the spiritual princes in their usurpations, agreeing not to introduce into their territories, without their consent, new coinage, or customs, or tolls. Fifteen years later the rebel king, Henry, was isolated by similar advantages being granted to the secular princes. The two pragmatic sanctions in which Frederick made these concessions formed the lawful basis of the independence of the princely class. Such authority as he reserved he could ill exercise from a distant land in which his energies were otherwise occupied. His immediate successors can hardly be said to have exercised any authority whatever; and they lost hold of the border countries which had hitherto been dependent upon or connected with Germany. Denmark and Poland rendered no homage thenceforth to the German crown, and Burgundy was gradually absorbed by France.

The country was not now divided into a few duchies which, with skilful management, might still on difficult emergencies have been made to act together. The age of the great duchies was past. As we have seen, Bavaria was shorn of extensive lands, over which new dukes were placed, and the duchy of Saxony was altogether broken up. Swabia and Franconia also ceased to have dukes, and Lorraine gave place to the duchy of Brabant and other small immediate states. Thus there were prelates, dukes, palsgraves, margraves, landgraves, counts—forming together a large body—each of whom claimed to have no superior save the emperor, whose authority they and their predecessors had slowly destroyed. All immediate nobles were not princes; but even petty knights or barons, who possessed little more than the rude towers from which they descended upon passing travellers, if their only lord was the emperor, recognized no law save their own will. Another independent element of the state was composed of the imperial cities. So long as the emperor really reigned, they enjoyed only such liberties as they could wring from him, or as he voluntarily conferred. But when the sovereign’s power decayed, the imperial cities were really free republics, governing themselves according to their own ideas of law and justice. Besides the imperial cities, and the princes and other immediate nobles, there were the mediate nobles, the men who held land in fief of the highest classes of the aristocracy, and who, in virtue of this feudal relation, thought themselves entitled to look down upon allodial proprietors or freemen, and upon simple burghers. There were also mediate towns, acknowledging the supremacy of some lord other than the sovereign. Beneath all these, forming the mass of the agricultural population, were the peasantry and the serfs, the latter attached to the land, the former ground down by heavy taxes.

The period which followed the death of Conrad IV., called the Great Interregnum, was made good use of by the princes for the extension of their territories and the confirmation of their authority. On several occasions the crown had seemed to be on the verge of becoming hereditary; but the jealousy of the papacy, and the growing influence of the aristocracy, had succeeded in keeping it elective. Although each election needed the sanction of the whole class of immediate nobles, the right of appointing the king had long been virtually in the hands of the leading princes. During the interregnum, mainly through the influence of Pope Urban IV., it was definitely transferred to the archbishops of Mainz, Cologne, and Treves, the houses of Wittelsbach and Saxony, the margrave of Brandenburg, and the king of Bohemia. After this the electors became a distinct element in the state. Their importance consisted in this, that they could maintain the existing disunion by imposing rigid conditions on candidates for the crown, and by taking care that it should be conferred on no prince likely to be dangerous to the aristocracy.

Up to the time of the interregnum the territories of a prince were never divided among his descendants, the reason being that, although the private fiefs of the princes were hereditary, their offices as rulers were in theory at the disposal of the crown. This principle was now set aside. Otto, duke of Bavaria, of the house of Wittelsbach, had become by marriage lord also of the Rhenish palatinate. After his death these extensive lands were ruled in common by his two sons; but a formal division soon took place, by which the powerful family of Wittelsbach was separated into two branches, the Palatine and the Bavarian. The small duchy of Saxony was also divided into two duchies, that of Wittenberg and that of Lauenburg, the former to the south, the latter to the north, of the great march of Brandenburg. About the same time there were like divisions in Nassau, Brunswick, Meissen, and Holstein. It vms thus practically settled that the offices and territories, as well as the private fiefs, of the princes were hereditary, to be disposed of by them at their pleasure. This being thoroughly established, it would have been hard, perhaps impossible, even for a sovereign of the highest genius, to reassert in anything like its full extent the royal authority. The process of division and subdivision which steadily went on broke up Germany into a bewildering multitude of principalities; but as a rule the members of each princely house held together against common enemies. Ultimately they learned to arrange by private treaties that no territory should pass from the family while a single representative of it survived.

This consolidation of the power of the princes was contemporary with the rise of the cities into new importance. The destruction of imperial authority compelled them to organize their resources, so as to be at all times prepared against ambitious neighbours. They began to form leagues which the greatest princes, and combinations of princes, could not afford to despise. Of these leagues the chief at this time was the Rhenish Confederation, which was founded by Mainz and Worms, and which, within a year of its formation—so pressing was the need of union—included about 70 cities,—among them Cologne, Strasburg, Basel, and towns far to the east and north, such as Nuremberg, Erfurt, and Bremen. Great importance was also acquired by the Hanseatic League, which had originated some time before the interregnum in a treaty of alliance between Lübeck and Hamburg. It ultimately included more than 80 cities, and became one of the greatest commercial powers in Europe.

A political system which allowed the princes to do as they pleased was exactly to their liking; and had they been able to follow their own impulses, it is improbable that they would have placed over the country even a nominal king. But the papacy intervened. It found from its troubles at home and from its diminished northern revenues that it would still be convenient to have in Germany a sovereign who would, like his predecessors, be the protector of the church. Pope Gregory X. therefore, after the death of Richard, let the electors know that if they did not choose a king he himself would appoint one. This threat was effective. The electors met, and raised to the throne Rudolf, count of Hapsburg, a petty Swabian noble who was supposed to be too unimportant to do much harm. Rudolf (1273-91), however, proved himself to have much more energy than the electors supposed. For a long time the most powerful prince in Germany had been Ottocar, king of Bohemia. He had by marriage and conquest obtained a great territory beyond his native state, including the Austrian possessions of the house of Babenberg, of which the male line had died out. As he had himself expected to receive the German crown, he refused to do homage to the new sovereign, who could not for a time compel his allegiance. At last, in a great battle at the Marchfeld, Ottocar was defeated and slain. Rudolf has often been called the restorer of the German kingdom, but he has no real claim to this honourable title. In the later years of his life he made some attempts to maintain the public peace, and he distinguished himself by the vigour with which he punished robber barons; he also won back some of the crown lands and dues which had been stolen during the interregnum. But he made no essential change in the condition of Germany. There was but one way iu which a king could hope still to overcome the arrogance of the princes, and that was to encourage the cities and to form with them a close and enduring alliance. This was the policy pursued by the French kings, and it was pursued with splendid effect. But Rudolf invariably favoured the princes rather than the cities. The latter had a peculiar class of citizens called “pfahlbürger,” who dwelt in the open country beyond the city palisades, and could claim the protection of the city authorities. As freemen were able, by becoming pfahlbürger, to escape from the tyranny of local despots, the princes vehemently opposed the right of the towns to receive them. Rudolf not only took the side of despotism in this important struggle, but harassed and weakened the cities by subjecting them to severe imposts. He had all the sympathies and prejudices of a noble; and the supreme object of his life was not to increase the authority of the state, but to add to the greatness of his own family. In this he was brilliantly successful. Some years after the fall of Ottocar he obtained the assent of the princes, notwithstanding their dislike of the scheme, to the granting of Austria, Styria, and Carníola in fief to his son Albert. Carinthia was given to Meinhard, count of Tyrol, on condition that on the dying out of his male line it should fall to Rudolf’s descendants. Thus Rudolf made himself memorable as the founder of the house of Hapsburg, which from his time formed one of the most influential forces in the national life of Germany.

In vain Rudolf sought to obtain the crown for his son; the electors would not take a step that might endanger their special rights. Guided mainly by the archbishop of Cologne, they chose Adolf, count of Nassau (1291-98), a noble of even less importance than Rudolf had been. He had, however, a considerable reputation for valour and ability. Edward I. of England persuaded him to form an alliance against France. Instead of applying the large sum sent from England to promote the objects of the alliance, Adolf was unprincipled enough to expend it in the purchase of Thuringia from the worthless landgrave, Albert the Degenerate. As the transfer was resisted by Albert’s sons, it led to a war in which Adolf was opposed by several princes. In his general policy he was much more enlightened than in these wretched proceedings, for he detected what had escaped his predecessor, the value of the cities as the true support of the monarchy. He relieved them of some of their burdens, and upheld them in the controversy respecting the pfahlbürger. Taking alarm, the electors met, and by an irregular vote proclaimed him dethroned. Adolf resisted, but lost his life in a battle near Worms.

Now that there could be no pretext for asserting that the crown had been obtained by inheritance, Duke Albert of Austria, Rudolf’s son, was chosen to be Adolf’s successor. Albert I. (1298-1308); like his father, made it his principal object to extend the power of his house, and he came very near to securing Bohemia and Thuringia; but his schemes were cut short by a violent death. Although a hard, stern man, he had a keen sense of justice when his selfish interests were not involved, and few of the German kings possessed so strongly practical an intelligence. He encouraged the cities even more effectually than his predecessor, and was not content with issuing proclamations against private war, but formed alliances with the princes in order to enforce his decrees. The serfs, whose wrongs seldom attracted notice in an age indifferent to human dignity, found a friend in this severe monarch, and he protected even the despised and persecuted Jews.

Albert’s successor was Henry, count of Luxembourg. Henry VII. (1308-13) was fortunate enough to obtain for his son John the crown of Bohemia, but the aggrandisement of his family was not the main object of this remarkable sovereign, the last of the German kings of the old, grandly ambitious type. It was the memory of the empire which stirred his blood; and from the beginning of his reign he looked forward to the assumption of the Lombard and imperial crowns. His purpose of crossing the Alps at the head of a mighty force was hailed with delight in Italy by the Ghibelline faction, whose aspirations found noble utterance in Dante’s prose; but the emperor lived too short a time to fulfil the hopes of his friends. The effect of the connexion of Germany with the empire was in his time, as in former ages, altogether mischievous; for before starting for Rome he tried to conciliate the princes by adding to their already enormous privileges and by repressing the energies of the cities.

The electors, with their usual dread of the crown becoming hereditary, would not appoint Henry’s son, John, the young king of Bohemia. But they were unable to agree on any one else, and the result of their disputes was a double election—one party choosing Frederick the Fair, duke of Austria, son of Albert I.; another, Louis, duke of Bavaria. War at once broke out and lasted for about nine years. In 1322 the rival claims were set at rest by the battle of Mühlberg, in which Frederick’s army was decisively routed. Louis had no personal ill-will to his opponent, who was the friend of his youth; and in 1325 he agreed that they should rule in common. Frederick III., however, being without strength of character, sank into insignificance, and in 1330 he died.

The success of Louis IV. (1314-47) in the war with Frederick was to a large extent due to the imperial cities, which clung to him from the first. They not only willingly paid high taxes, but made splendid voluntary contributions; aud they often stimulated anew the king of their choice, when he himself would have preferred to give up a struggle in which the sympathies of most of the princes and nobles were with his enemy. He was even more indebted to the memorable conflict between the house of Hapsburg and the League composed of Schwyz, Uri, and Unterwalden. The inhabitants of these districts claimed to have never owed allegiance to any sovereign save the emperor. Although this claim had been confirmed by King Adolf and Henry VIL, the dukes of Austria would not recognize it; and when Frederick was chosen king by his party among the electors, he sent bailiffs into the country to bring it under the rule of his family. Probably the tyranny of these officers, although it occurred at a later time than that to which the Tell legend refers, afterwards gave rise to the romantic tales which gathered around the name of the mythical champion of Swiss independence. At any rate it brought on a conflict between Austria and the confederates, which strained the resources of Frederick at the very time when he needed them in defence of his royal claims. It was not only Louis who profited by this struggle, for the splendid battle of Morgarten Pass laid the foundation of the structure which we now see in free Switzerland.

Had Louis been a wise prince it would have been easy for him to rise to a great position after the battle of Mühlberg; but he was wayward, treacherous, and selfish. He mortally offended King John of Bohemia, who had been of great service to him, but who now became his bitter and unrelenting enemy. Pope John XXII., stirred up by Charles IV. of France, who had some hope of obtaining the empire for himself, took advantage of the strife of the two princes, and arrogantly claimed that the German crown could not be worn but with papal sanction. When Louis gave the answer that was to be expected, the pope responded by excommunicating him and by placing under the interdict all places by which he should be supported. Thus it seemed that the ancient struggle between the papacy and the empire was to be revived; but the pope and his French master had altogether misread the signs of the times. The princes had no longer, as in former ages, reason to dread an ambitious ruler; the kingdom was their own, and therefore they could not tolerate that its destinies should be decided by a foreign power. Even the spiritual princes for the most part took this view. The electors had of course the strongest of all motives for resisting the papal claim, since, had it been conceded, they would have been deprived of their importance. As for the cities, they had stood beside the empire in the most difficult crises of its contest with Rome, and they were not likely to desert it now. Encouraged, or rather driven forward, by the national sentiment, Louis continued to maintain the independence of his crown, and even made a descent upon Italy, where he was crowned emperor by .his own anti-pope. This enterprise ended disastrously, but it made no difference in the conditions of the controversy. Louis was personally very much frightened by the possible consequences of excommunication, and intrigued incessantly with Pope John and his successor Benedict XII. to be taken back into the church. In order to win papal favour he basely betrayed Edward III. of England, with whom he had formed an alliance against the French king, Philip VI. The nation, however, stood fast, and in 1338 the electors, with the exception of King John of Bohemia, met at Reuse, near Coblentz, and formally declared that the German king and emperor, if appointed by a majority of the electors, received his authority from God alone, and needed not papal sanction in the exercise of his rights. This declaration was accepted as the fundamental law of the empire by a diet which Louis summoned in Frankfort, and which was largely attended by princes, nobles, and citizens.

Louis did not maintain the popularity forced upon him by this conflict. His greed of territory for his family made him so unscrupulous, and excited so many jealousies, that the Bohemian king succeeded in forming a party against him; and in 1346 a number of the electors voted his deposition, and appointed in his place Charles, margrave of Moravia, King John’s son. The cities persisted in their loyalty, and few of the princes were willing to involve themselves in another great war; so that for a time the sentence of deposition had no effect. But after King John had met his death, fighting heroically despite his blindness as the French king’s ally, on the field of Crécy, Charles, who succeeded him on the Bohemian throne, began to make vigorous preparations; and probably the sudden death of Louis prevented Germany from being once more rent by civil strife.

Notwithstanding the defects of Louis’s personal character his reign was one of the most important in German history. The claim of the papacy to political supremacy received in his time its deathblow, and the popes themselves sowed the seeds of the spiritual alienation from Rome which was effected at the Reformation. In regard to the public peace, Louis persistently followed the lines laid down by Albert I. He encouraged the princes to form alliances for its maintenance, and at the time of his death such alliances existed in all parts of the country. To the cities he usually showed himself a faithful friend. In many of them there had been for more than a century a struggle between the old patrician families and the guilds composed of workmen and tradespeople. Louis could not always follow his own impulses; but whenever he could, he associated himself with the latter party. Thus in his day the government of the imperial cities became more democratic, and industry and trade flourished as they had never before done. The steady dislike of the princes was the best proof of the importance of the cities. They contained elements capable of enormous development; and had a great king arisen he might even yet, by their means, have secured for Germany a truly national life.

The friends of Louis elected Günther, count of Schwarzburg, but Charles IV. (1347—78), by a liberal use of bribes, bought over his enemies; and Günther himself resigned his claim, and soon afterwards died. Charles was an accomplished diplomatist, of a keen and penetrating intellect, but capable of almost any trickery in order to gain his ends. Apparently the most pliant of men, he had in reality great persistence of character, and if foiled in one set of plans readily turned round and reached his goal by a wholly different path. The result of his endless intrigues was that, when he died, he wore the crowns of Bohemia, of Germany, of Burgundy, of Lombardy, and of the empire; and he succeeded in adding to his native kingdom Lusatia, Silesia, and Brandenburg. As a Bohemian king he ranked high among the rulers of his day. He so carefully organized the administration, and practised such strict economy in government, that no German country was so lightly taxed as Bohemia; and it became, under his rule,a home of learning and of the arts. Towards Germany he was cynically indifferent, caring for it only in so far as it could add to his personal welfare. It never stood in more urgent need of a strong and beneficent ruler than in the early years of his reign, for the Black Death swept over the land, and the half-mad population rose in fury against the Jews, who were supposed to have in some way caused the evil. In dealing with this monstrous outburst of fanaticism, many of the princes, both spiritual and secular, displayed vigour and humanity; but Charles saw in the suffering of the downtrodden race, which was peculiarly under his protection, only an excuse for robbing it of its wealth.

His most famous achievement is the Golden Bull. Although the principle of election to the crown had long been settled, it was surrounded by many practical difficulties. It had never, for instance, been decided whether all the princes of each electoral house were entitled to vote; nor was it certain, when a choice was made among several branches of a family, by what law the choice ought to be regulated. The Golden Bull, which was granted as the result of many tedious negotiations in 1356, was primarily intended to set at rest such doubts as these; but it did very much more. It decided that the number of electors should be strictly limited to seven, that the spiritual electorates should belong as before to the archbishops of Mainz, of Cologne, and of Treves, and the secular electorates to the king of Bohemia, the Rhenish palsgrave, the duke of Saxony (Sachsen-Wittenberg), and the margrave of Brandenburg. That there might be no possibility of dispute between the princes of a single house, these countries were declared to be indivisible, and to be heritable only on the principle of primogeniture. The electors were invested with full sovereign rights within their territories, and their subjects were allowed to appeal to the royal or imperial tribunals only if the administration of justice should be refused. The king of Bohemia received precedence among the secular electors, but it is difficult to believe that this alone was his aim in making these vast concessions. Whatever may have been his motives, the effect of the Golden Bull was to perpetuate the disunion of the state. With such powers the electors collectively were of more importance than the sovereign; and their greatness stimulated the other princes to seize every chance of acquiring like privileges.

If we except the Golden Bull, the true interest of Charles’s reign is not in his unimportant labours for Germany, but in the movements beyond the range of his influence. It is significant that at this time the Fehmgerichte, for whose origin we must go back to the 12th century, vastly extended the sphere of their activity, and that in the utter absence of central authority they were respected as a rough check upon the lawlessness even of high princes. The cities, notwithstanding every kind of discouragement, formed new associations for mutual defence, or strengthened those which already existed. The Hanseatic League carried on war with the Danish king and forced him to come to terms, and its commerce was extended to nearly every part of the known world. A powerful league was formed by the Swabian towns, but it was defeated in the battle of Altheim by a confederation of princes who regarded its growth with fear and jealousy.

Wenceslaus (1378-1400), son of Charles IV., and also king of Bohemia, had some good natural qualities; but he had been badly trained, and when he became his own master was indolent and capricious. His bloodhounds had stronger attractions for him than the duties of government, and even more than his father he left Germany to look after itself, The tendency to association became the deepest of the time; princes allied themselves against cities, cities against princes, and nobles against both. For a brief period the prospects of the cities seemed to be splendid, for the Swabian League recovered from the effects of its reverse, extended its relations far and wide, and formed an alliance with the Swiss confederates. The latter won the brilliant victories of Sempach and Näfels, and had the Swabian League taken advantage of the opportunity, it might have definitely gained predominance. But it gave the princes time to reorganize their scattered forces, and in 1388, in the battle of Döffingen, it suffered complete defeat. So crushing was this blow that the Swabian cities were never again so strong, and all over Germany it encouraged the princes to fresh aggression.

The confusion caused by the king’s neglect of his most elementary duties gave rise to a conspiracy against him, in which Rupert, the elector of the palatinate, took a leading part. Wenceslaus was deposed, and after much intrigue the crown was granted to Rupert (1400-10). He was an excellent elector, and under favourable circumstances would have been a good king; but such were the jealousies and divisions of the state that he found no scope for his energy beyond his native dominions. He made an attempt to reach Rome, but the result covered him with ridicule. After his death Jobst, margrave of Moravia, and Sigismund, king of Hungary, brother of Wenceslaus, were elected by opposing parties. Jobst soon died, and then Sigismund was generally recognized. Sigismund (1410-37) was an intelligent and cultivated prince, but vain, restless, and shifty. He could form great plans, but had not determination to execute them, and was easily moved by flattering counsellors. The commanding questions of his reign were ecclesiastical. It was the age of the great schism, and through all ranks of the church there was an urgent cry for thorough reform. Unfortunately, the council of Constance, summoned mainly through the efforts of Sigismund, marred its labours by the judicial murder of Huss and Jerome of Prague. This atrocious act, for which the king was to a large extent responsible, stirred vehement rage among the Bohemians; and when, after the death of Wenceslaus, Sigismund, as his heir, claimed the crown, they broke into revolt. Led for a time by the blind general Zisca, and afterwards by commanders who, although his inferiors in genius, were of equally resolute temper, they defeated army after army, and spread havoc through the neighbouring German lands.. So divided was Germany, and so poor was Sigismund himself, that for fifteen years he could not collect a force sufficient to put down the rebellion; and he at last succeeded only because the Hussites gradually split into two factions, the Calixtines and Taborites, and he was able to conciliate the less extreme party.

Sigismund, who was of lavish habits, never had enough money for his wants; sometimes he had even to force himself upon princes and cities as an unwelcome guest, This undignified poverty had one good result. In return for 400,000 gulden he granted to his friend Frederick, count of Hohenzollern, first as a pledge, afterwards as a permanent fief, the march of Brandenburg. Thus Brandenburg passed iuto the hands of the family under whom it was destined to become the centre of a mighty kingdom.

Sigismund was succeeded by Albert, duke of Austria, who, as his son-in-law, became king of Bohemia and Hungary. Although the German crown remained elective, it was henceforth always conferred on a member of the house of Hapsburg until the extinction of the male line; and the same family never willingly lost its grip of the two countries which now fell to it, and of which it ultimately gained complete possession. Albert II. (1438-39) evidently meant well by Germany; but his reign was too short to enable him to do more than indicate his good intentions. He was succeeded by Frederick, duke of Styria. Frederick IV. (1440-93), unfortunately for his subjects, occupied the throne longer than any other sovereign. He was a solemn trifler, obstinate without being firm, and bent on promoting only the interests of his family. The council of Basel having met after the council of Constance, King Albert accepted its reforming decrees; and it appeared probable that the abuses which scandalized Christendom were about to be brought to an end. But Frederick, whose dull mind did not see that in the changed circumstances of the world the papacy could be strong only in proportion to its purity, fancied that in its existing condition it might be made a powerful ally of the empire. He accordingly carried his submissiveness so far as to sign in* 1448 the concordat of Aschaffenburg, perpetuating the very evils from which the church had aimed at delivering itself. After his assent had been obtained it was comparatively easy to overcome the scruples of the princes, so that the chances of a voluntary reformation were lost; the upheaval of the 16th century was rendered inevitable.

Frederick’s career is one of great importance in Austrian history; he was involved in wars with the Turks, with the Hungarians, with his brothers, and with his own subjects. In 1452 he was crowned emperor, being the last who passed through the ceremony in Rome. He had no influence in Italy; and in Burgundy he could neither check the towering ambition of Charles the Bold, nor after Charles’s death prevent the seizure of the duchy of Burgundy by the French king. In Germany he hardly made a pretence of exercising supreme authority, and many private wars were waged, especially between the cities and the princes. The most famous of these was the margraves’ war, carried on by Albert of Brandenburg with a number of princely allies against Nuremberg, which had the support of the Swiss League and upwards of 70 cities. The war was in every respect a critical one. Had the cities gained they might still have aimed at balancing the power of the princes; but owing partly to their imperfect union, partly to the necessity of fighting with hired troops, they were not successful. They won, indeed, great advantages in the course of the war; but after the conclusion of peace it was felt that on the whole they had decidedly lost ground. After this struggle, which lasted seven years, there could be no doubt as to the element in which the centre of gravity of the state was to be found.

The princes, however, did not have everything their own way. About this time their power was seriously limited by the formation of diets in nearly all the principalities. These bodies were composed of the mediate prelates, the mediate nobles, and representatives of the mediate cities. They were not summoned because the princes wished their aid, but because arms could be had only with the consent of the nobles, and money only with that of the cities and the clergy. When once formed, the local diets soon extended their functions. They claimed the right of sanctioning taxation; they had something to say as to the expenditure of the public revenues; they insisted on justice beiug administered. Such institutions as these were clearly of the highest importance, and for two centuries they did much to make up for the lack of a genuine monarchy.

During this reign the conditions of warfare began to be radically changed. The discovery of gunpowder made small bodies of men, properly armed, more than a match for great forces equipped in the mediaeval style. Hence the custom of hiring mercenary troops came into use; and a prince could never feel sure, however numerous his vassals, that the advantage would not rest with his opponent. This fact, added to the influence of the local diets, made even the princes sick of war; and everywhere a demand arose for the reform of the national institutions. In 1488 a great Swabian confederation, consisting of princes, nobles, and towns, was created for the establishment of peace; and its effects were excellent. But obviously no partial remedy of this kind could suffice; it was essential that there should be some central reform by which every part of the kingdom could be effectually reached. Had the proposal been that the imperial authority should be directly strengthened, Frederick would not have objected; but the scheme repeatedly forced upon him was that he should in some form delegate to others the power which theoretically belonged to him, so that it might really be put in force. The emperor doggedly withheld his assent, and the nation impatiently waited in the hope tliat his successor would be more pliant.

Maximilian I. (1493-1519) mounted the throne with unusual advantages. He was not only lord of the great Austrian lands, but, as husband of the princess Mary, daughter of Charles the Bold, administered the Low Countries and the free county of Burgundy. These territories he soon gave up to their lawful ruler, his son Philip; but the fact that they were in the possession of his family added to his influence, which was still further increased when Philip, by marrying the infanta Joanna, had the prospect of becoming king of Spain. From this time the empire exercised in the affairs of Europe an authority which had not belonged to it for several centuries. The reason was not that the empire itself was stronger, but that the crown was held by princes who were in their own right mighty sovereigns.

This emperor is often called the last of the knights, and in some respects the name is strikingly appropriate. He had not, indeed, sufficient dignity to rank among the greatest representatives of chivalry. A knight who was also emperor ought not, for instance, as Maximilian did at the siege of Terouenne, to have served a foreign prince for pay. But he possessed many of the more prominent qualities suggested by the word chivalry; he was a man of fascinating manner, a lover of poetry and art, and endowed with a bold and adventurous spirit. Above all, he was a knight in his political opinions. Maximilian never could learn that the world had changed since the time of the Hohenstaufen dynasty; that the old order of society was passing away, and a new order arising, was altogether hidden from him. An irresistible fascination attracted him to the glitter of the mediaeval empire, and the best part of his life he spent in vague schemes for its revival. The agitation for reform in the direction indicated by the princes and the cities met his unqualified disapproval. During the whole course of his reign the diet, which was now composed of three colleges, the electors, the princes, and representatives of the imperial cities, urged him with even greater importunity than it had displayed toward his father, to adapt himself to the circumstances of the time. The only occasions on which it could bend him to its will were when he needed money for his military enterprises; and by taking advantage of these opportunities it obtained bis sanction to the division of the kingdom into ten circles, each with its own administrators, appointed for the purpose of preventing private war. These institutions were of genuine service, but no other real concession could be wrung from Maximilian. In his first diet, held at Worms in 1495, a permanent public peace was proclaimed, and he unwillingly consented to the formation of an imperial chamber, consisting of a president and assessors, the former to be appointed by the emperor, the latter by the states. This chamber was to judge between princes of the empire, and to act as a court of appeal for parties of lower grade; and partly for the payment of its expenses a tax called the common penny was granted. Maximilian, who was always in straits for money, took much interest in the common penny; but to the imperial chamber, which limited the rights of the crown, he was so persistently hostile that it did no good in his day. An administrative council to which, after his defeat by the Swiss League in 1499, he was forced to agree, also failed in consequence of his opposition.

The famous invasion of Italy by Charles VIII. of France in 1494 brought Maximilian into the field, and ever afterwards he mixed himself up in the confused struggles to the south of the Alps, hoping to assert the ancient claims of the German kings, at least in northern Italy. In 1508 he joined the infamous League of Cambray against the Venetian republic, and at a later time he took part in the conflict of the Holy League against Louis XII. of France. He was everywhere baffled, for his own territories, great as they were, did not suffice for his vast undertakings, and Germany refused to let herself be dragged into conflicts in which she was η k ot directly concerned.

Period of the Reformation.

Tlιe reign of Maximilian must be regarded as in many respects the end of the Middle Ages. The feudal relation between the king and the princes, and between the princes and their vassals, had become purely nominal. No real control was exerted by the crown over the heads of the various states, and now that war was carried on mainly by mercenary troops, the mediate nobles did not hold their lands on condition of military service. The princes were sovereigns, not merely feudal lords; and by the institution of local diets in their territories an approach was made to modern conceptions of government. The age of war was far indeed from being over, but men had at least begun to see that unnecessary bloodshed is an evil, and that the true outlet for the mass of human energies is not conflict but peaceful industry. By the growth of the cities in social if not in political importance the products of labour were being more and more widely diffused: and it was now incomparably easier than at any previous time for the nation to be moved by common ideas and impulses. The discovery of the New World, the invention of printing, the revival of learning, and many other causes had contributed to effect a radical change in the point of view from which the world was regarded; and the strongest of all mediaeval relations, that of the nation to the church, was about to pass through the fiery trial of the Reformation. Tlιis vast movement, which began in the later years of Maximilian, definitely severed the mediaeval from the modern world.

The seeds of the Reformation were laid at so remote a time as that of the conflict between the papacy aud the empire. The arrogance and the ambition of the popes then stamped upon the minds of the people an impression that was never effaced. During the temporary struggle of Louis IV. with the popes of his day the old feeling revived with fresh intensity; all classes, clerical as well as lay, looked upon resistance to papal pretensions as a necessity imposed by the national honour. At the same time the spiritual teaching of the mystics awakened in many minds an aspiration which the church, in its corrupt state, could ill satisfy, and which was in any case unfavourable to a merely external authority. The Hussite movement, shaking as it did many ancient beliefs and shattering many ancient institutions, further weakened the spell of the church. Still more powerful, because touching deeper elements of human nature and affecting a more important class, was the influence of the Renaissance, which, towards the end of the 15th century, passed from Italy to the universities of Germany. The men of the new learning did not sever themselves from Christianity, but they became indifferent to it; its conceptions seemed to them dim and faded, while there was a constantly increasing charm in literature, in philosophy, and in art. No kind of effort was made by the church to prepare for the storm which might have been foreseen. The spiritual princes, besides displaying all the faults of the secular princes, had special defects of their own; and as simony was universally practised, the lives of multitudes of the inferior clergy were a public scandal, while their services were cold and unimpressive. The moral sense was outraged by such a pope as Alexander VI.; and neither the military ambition of Julius II. nor the refined paganism of Leo X. could tend to revive the decaying faith in the spirituality of their office. Pope Leo by his incessant demands for money, and his unscrupulous methods of obtaining it, awakened bitter hostility in every class of the community.

The popular feeling for the first time found expression when Luther, in 1517, nailed to a church door in Wittenberg the theses in which he contested the doctrine at the root of the detestable traffic carried on for the pope by Tetzel and his accomplices. In appearance a slight circumstance, this was in reality an event of vast significance; for it brought to the front, as the exponent of the national sentiment, one of the mightiest spirits whom Germany has produced,—a man who had certainly many faults, but who amply made up for them by the force of his intellect, the loftiness of his aims, and the rare combination of caution and audacity with which he devoted himself to noble causes. Under the influence of Luther’s great personality the most active and progressive elements of the nation were soon in more or less open antagonism to the papacy.

When Maximilian died, the throne was competed for by his grandson Charles, by Henry VIII. of England, and by Francis I. of France. The first and the last were the only real candidates, and ultimately Charles was chosen. By the time he reached Germany in 1521, Luther had passed through his famous controversy with Eck; he had confronted the papal legate, Cajetan; he had burned the pope’s bull. After this, retreat was impossible; and his innumerable adherents waited with keen excitement to see on which side the new king would declare himself. Charles V. (1520-55), although a boy in years, was not really young. He soon made up his mind as to the general lines of his policy, and no one who knew his grave and obstinate spirit supposed that any influence would cause him to diverge from his path. He had no adequate conception of the strength of the feeling which had been aroused. He fancied, as had at first been imagined in Rome, that he had to deal with a monkish quarrel; at one time he even supposed that a little money would easily set the difficulty at rest. Nor did he ever comprehend the real nature of the questions which stirred the hearts of his subjects. For Charles, although a diplomatist of astonishing skill, was a man of cold and narrow nature; it was incredible to him that men should be genuinely moved by aspirations to which he was himself a stranger. Even if his knowledge had been far more exact, he would not have turned against the church. Since the interregnum none of the emperors, with the exception of Maximilian, had been powerful princes apart from the empire, and some of them had been wretchedly poor and insignificant. Maximilian himself could not compete on equal terms with the leading European monarchs. Charles, however, was by far the most important sovereign of his time. He was king of Spain and the Two Sicilies, with the resources of the New World at his command, lord of the Low Countries and of the county of Burgundy, co-regent with his brother Ferdinand of the great Austrian inheritance; and now he had been made king of Germany with a right to the imperial crown. To such a potentate it naturally seemed possible to restore the splendour of Charles the Great, and he early set before himself this ideal. But the protection of the church had always been looked upon as the chief function of the empire; he could not, therefore, desert it at the very time when it seemed to be in need of his services. He reserved to himself the same right as his predecessors to resist it in the realm of politics; in the realm of faith he considered that he owed it his entire allegiance. Moreover, he intended to complete the task at which his grandfather had worked in vain, the subjection of northern Italy; and in order to realize this scheme it was of high importance that he should in no way needlessly offend the pope. Hence, in 1521, in the diet of Worms, without really examining the positions of Luther, Charles issued an edict denouncing him and his followers, and placing him under the ban of the empire.

Alarmed lest the emperor’s great power should be too freely applied in Germany, the electors had before his appointment exacted a promise that he would respect German liberties and institute the reforms which had been vainly demanded of Maximilian. At the diet of Worms steps were taken to give effect to these conditions. An administrative council was nominated for the government of Germany while Charles should be away; and the imperial chamber was so effectually re-established that, with the auüc council (which was at first subordinate to it, but ultimately became independent), it lasted till the destruction of the empire. A matricula was drawn up settling the number of troops to be raised for common purposes by each state; and this also was in force while the empire existed. Having made these arrangements, Charles invested his brother Ferdinand with the sole authority in the Austrian territories, and then left Germany, to begin soon after his long struggle with Francis I. of France.

While Charles was absent carrying on his wars with Francis, great disturbances took place in Germany. One of the most remarkable of Luther’s friends was Ulrich von Hutten, a young noble, who, although penetrated by the enthusiasm of the Renaissance, was emphatically a man of action. His class, the nobles, had ever chafed against the supremacy of the princes; and it occurred to him that the Reformation might be made the means of effecting a total change in the constitution of the empire. As no general reform either in church or state could be effected while the nation was cut up into a large number of principalities, his plan was to combine against the princes all who were discontented with the existing order, and to place the emperor at the head of a united country. Then the nobles would obtain their due, peace would be secured throughout the land, and papal authority might be easily put down. The scheme was a great one, and Hutten inspired with his enthusiasm Francis von Sickingen, an energetic and popular Rhenish baron who could at any time attract a large army to his standard. A force of 12,000 men was soon collected, and the enterprise was begun in 1522 by an attack on the elector of Treves, who, being a spiritual prince, would not, it was supposed, receive the sympathy of the reforming party. For a moment it seemed as if this dream of a new empire might be realized; but it was too late to make so vast a change. Several princes united, and in 1523 Sickingen was defeated and slain, while Hutten, who had devoted pen and sword to his cause, died in loneliness and misery on an island in the Lake of Zürich.

This war was followed by another of a still more serious nature. The peasantry of Germany had grievances compared with which those of the nobles were imaginary, for they were treated as if they had no right to expect any ray of brightness in their dreary lot. Extravagant hopes were kindled among them by the Reformation, and in a few years, notwithstanding all Luther’s efforts to dissuade them, widespread conspiracies were formed. In 1524 war broke out in the greater part of southern and central Germany, and the peasants, aided by a few valiant knights like Götz von Berlichingen, were at first triumphant. But they soon became so violent that Luther himself urged they should be sternly punished; and in 1525, after a vast amount of confusion and bloodshed, the rising was completely suppressed. By these two wars the authority of the princes was made greater than ever; the peasantry suffered if possible more severe oppression, and many even of the immediate nobles were compelled to submit to a yoke which they detested.

Notwithstanding the injurious impression caused by the struggles of the peasantry and of the barons, the Reformation made rapid progress, and those who remained loyal to the church became so alarmed that at the diet of Spires in 1526 they clamoured for repressive measures. The administrative council at the head of Germany in Charles’s absence was, however, not unfriendly to the Reformers, and the diet ended by decreeing that, until the questions in dispute should be authoritatively settled, each state should have religious freedom. This proved to be a most important edict. As yet no religious body had been organized to compete with the Catholic Church; now the leading states in which the ideas of the Reformation prevailed began, under the guidance of Luther and Melanchthon, to carry out measures which they had in vain hoped the church itself, by means of a general council, would undertake. The Catholics saw clearly the significance of what was done; and at another diet held in Spires in 1529 they obtained, in opposition to the previous edict, a new decree, forbidding further changes in religion. The supporters of Luther formally protested; but the Catholics maintained their ground. In the following year the emperor, who was no longer an untried youth, but a sovereign famous for skill in council and success in war, came to Germany for the express purpose of making an end of heresy. At the diet he held in Augsburg the Lutherans submitted a summary of their doctrines in the Augsburg Confession, which had been drawn up, with the sanction of Luther, by Melanchthon, and which was afterwards regarded as their chief standard of faith. Charles made no real effort to comprehend the controversy; he was resolved, whether the heretics had right on their side or not, that they should submit, and he had at first no doubt that he would awe them into submission by an unwonted display of power and splendour. To his surprise the Lutheran princes, while perfectly respectful, continued firm, and not only declined to attend mass, but held Lutheran services in their own quarters. Paying no attention to the edict of Spires of 1526, he renewed that’which he had issued at Worms in 1521; and it seemed more than probable that if it were not obeyed he would soon have recourse to arms.

But fresh difficulties with France, and a threatened invasion of the Turks, who had besieged Vienna in 1529, forced him to mask his designs. In 1532 he granted the religious peace of Nuremberg, which conceded temporary toleration to the adherents of the Augsburg Confession, and this peace was repeatedly confirmed in the following years. Meanwhile, the Lutherans, both princes and cities, had increased their power by forming the League of Smalkald, and this confederation ultimately took in, besides many cities of South Germany, most of the North-German cities and principalities. The Reformation in Germany was above all things a popular movement. It sprang directly from the heart of the nation, and, the conditions favourable to it being widely spread, it passed with extraordinary speed from one part of the country to another. Thus many princes, who would not of their own accord have deserted the church, were compelled to do so from political motives. They had been strong enough to undermine imperial authority; they were not strong enough to resist the pressure of the majority of their subjects.

His hands being full elsewhere, Charles was obliged to temporize during his second absence from Germany, and to send counsels of moderation to his brother Ferdinand, who had been elected king of the Romans. He never, however, gave up his original purpose. His plan was, when he should have leisure to devote himself to the task, to secure the meeting of a general council which should make all necessary reforms, and to insist, at whatever cost, on the Lutherans abiding by its decisions. The peace of Crespy, signed in 1544, gave him free scope; and he began by inducing Pope Paul III. to summon the council which ultimately met at Trent. At the same time he made vigorous preparations for war. He affected that he had no intention of fighting for religious objects, but merely wished to bring to subjection certain states which had set him at defiance. By these means he was able to detach from the League of Smalkald the reforming states which were without real enthusiasm, or which were too timid to enter upon a great struggle. Those which took up arms were so disunited that the troops sent to Charles from Italy and the Low Countries had no difficulty in joining him; and in 1546 he not only made himself master of the South-German Lutheran cities, but in the battle of Mühlberg completely routed the Saxons and took their elector, John Frederick, prisoner. Shortly afterwards the landgrave Philip of Hesse, who with the Saxon elector had been the main political support of Lutheranism, fell into his hands, and both were treated with great harshness. Charles took advantage of his triumph to issue what was called the “Interim,” a confession which was to be obligatory on the Lutheran states until the council then sitting should conclude its labours. It was everywhere resisted, but most of the states had at least outwardly to submit. All Germany thus seemed to be at the emperor’s feet. The Reformation had enabled him to deal both with the princes and the imperial cities as no sovereign had dealt with them for five centuries.

. But his triumph was too great to be enduring. The Catholic princes themselves were alarmed at his predominance; King Ferdinand was alienated by his attempts to secure the crown for his son Philip; and the Lutheran princes chafed angrily under his severe rule. The general discontent found a representative in Maurice, a subtle and ambitious Saxon prince, who, caring little about doctrinal disputes but a great deal about the increase of his own importance, had sided with Charles against the Lutherans, and had been rewarded by being made John Frederick’s successor. He now turned, under the influence of what motives it is hard to determine, and plotted against the emperor, forming an alliance with the chief Lutheran princes xnd with Henry II. of France, who eagerly caught the opportunity to profit by the dissensions in the empire. Charles heard vague rumours of what was going on; but he had been thrown off his guard by the ease with which he had hitherto attained his will, and carelessly trusted to chance. Suddenly, in 1552, Henry II. invaded Germany as protector of her liberties, and Charles learned that Maurice was marching rapidly to Innsbruck with the intention of making him prisoner. He fled, and all the advantages he had gained by the battle of Mühlberg were at once lost. Within six months he had to sign the treaty of Passau, agreeing that a diet should be summoned for the purpose of arriving at a new settlement, and that in the meantime Lutherans and Catholics should have like privileges. In 1555 the religious peace of Augsburg was concluded by the diet thus promised.

Henry II. had seized the bishoprics of Metz, Verdun, and Toul; and Charles endeavoured at the earliest possible opportunity to win them back. But his efforts failed; and thus in his last years the power he fancied he had thoroughly humbled began a series of depredations which were thenceforth to be continued at frequent intervals. Disgusted with his ill fortune, he handed over the government of Germany to his brother Ferdinand in 1555, having in the previous year entrusted Spain, the Two Sicilies, and the Low Countries to his son Philip.

The peace of Augsburg, instead of bringing tranquillity, was the cause of fresh discord. The toleration it conceded did not include the Calvinist or Reformed faith; only the Lutherans received liberty of worship. And even aLutheran was not tolerated unless his prince chose to let him alone; for each secular state had the right to eject from its territory all who did not accept the doctrine it established. Thus Catholic, Lutheran, and Calvinist were exposed to irritating despotism; and each came to regard the other with hearty detestation. Another source of trouble was a clause in the treaty called the ecclesiastical reservation. It required that if a spiritual prince accepted the Augsburg Confession he should-forthwith resign his lands. The Lutherans denied the validity of this clause; and notwithstanding the protests of the Catholics several prelates became Lutherans and kept their territories as secular possessions.

Ferdinand I. (1556-64), who, like all German sovereigns after him, was recognized as emperor without being crowned by the pope, had at one time been distinguished for his zeal for the church. But the experience of his brother had taught him the necessity of prudence; and he was also kept quiet by troubles in Bohemia and Hungary, both of which countries he had acquired by marriage, and to both of which the house of Hapsburg soon began to lay hereditary claim. He tried to moderate the excesses of each party, and was anxious that the council of Trent should follow a conciliatory policy. Maximilian II. (1564-76), one of the most enlightened princes of his time, adopted the same line. He would have had the state withdraw altogether from religious disputes, and so sincerely did he carry out his principles that, although he was himself a Catholic, Protestant doctrines spread during his reign throughout the Austrian hereditary lands, from which they had hitherto been excluded. Rudolf II. (1576-1612) reversed the policy of his immediate predecessors. The Jesuits, who had been hard at work, although without much success, during his father’s reign, gained complete ascendency over him; and acting on their advice he continually warred against the Protestants. But he was too weak to do much good to his friends or injury to his enemies. Trained in the gloomy court of Spain, he had come to be of a moody, variable temperament; and he was given to outbursts of violent passion, followed by abject submission to his advisers. So much confusion sprang from his incompetence that the archdukes of Austria, with the sanction of the Spanish branch of the house of Hapsburg, met in 1606, and placed the government of the hereditary lands in the hands of his brother Matthias. He took refuge among his Bohemian subjects, who, in 1609, wrung from him a royal charter, granting religious freedom to the nobles, knights, and cities, with the right to build churches on their own and the royal lands. Matthias, who succeeded him as emperor (1612-19), was almost as unfit for the duties he assumed. He put forth his whole energy against Protestantism; but he could not in the least discourage it, and in his time it prevailed over by far the larger part of the Austrian territory.

By this time, however, there were signs of a great Catholic reaction which was to work fearful havoc in Germany. It was due mainly to the persistent zeal of the Jesuits. For a long time the Protestants absorbed the intellectual strength of the country; but many able scholars and divines among the Jesuits could hold their own with their antagonists, who afforded them excellent vantage ground by foolish and bitter controversies. These devoted missionaries of the church gave their attention mainly to the young; and during the reign of Rudolf they were fortunate enough to make a profound impression upon two princes, each of whom was destined to play a great part in the events of the time. These princes were Maximilian, duke of Bavaria, and Ferdinand, duke of Styria. The former early showed the fruit of his training by executing, in 1606, an unjust imperial mandate against the Protestant city of Donauwörth, and afterwards treating it as his own. The Protestant princes, rendered suspicious by this arbitrary act, formed in 1608 a confederation called the Union, which was to last for ten years; and in response the Catholics, under the guidance of Maximilian, to whom they gave the command, united in a similar confederation called the League. As the Union was headed by the elector palatine, who was a Calvinist, many Lutherans, among them the Saxon elector, regarded it coldly. It acquired, however, immense importance by an alliance with Henry IV. of France, who, like Henry II., wished to profit by German quarrels. War was on the point of breaking out between the two confederations in regard to the Juliers-Cleves territory; but the Union did not venture to fight after the sudden death of the French king.

Ferdinand was even more vigorous than his friend in the defence of his religion. His faith was that of a genuine fanatic, narrow, intense, austere; and with the feelings of a monk rather than of a secular ruler, he began at once, on assuming the government of Styria, to extirpate Protestantism. Individuals and families were driven without mercy from their homes until at last a country which had been mainly Protestant became in appearance altogether Catholic. He was the heir of Matthias; and on coming to Vienna after the death of that sovereign, he found himself in the midst of what seemed hopeless confusion. The Bohemians, embittered by the violation of the royal charter granted by Rudolf, refused to acknowledge him as king, and elected Frederick V. of the palatinate, son-in-law of James I. of England; and the people of Hungary and of the Austrian lands, terrified by the prospect of a stern rule in opposition to their religious beliefs, were almost in open revolt. He succeeded in obtaining the imperial crown; and from that time Ferdinand II. (1619-37) was dominated by a fixed resolve to secure the triumph of his church throughout the empire,—a resolve which cost Germany the Thirty Years’ War.

He began with Bohemia. Although supported by Spain, he could not obtain from her sufficient troops for his purpose: and as he was for some time nea<rly powerless in Vienna he was obliged to come to terms with Duke Maximilian, who, after securing his own interests, put the army of the League commanded by Tilly at his disposal. The Union helped Frederick V.; but being a man of feeble character he wasted precious months, needlessly irritated his subjects, and vaguely hoped that his wife’s father would see him out of his embarrassments. In 1620 his army was utterly routed at the battle of Weissenburg; and he and his family had just timeto escape from the kingdom he had rashly undertaken to govern. Ferdinand drove to the uttermost the advantages of his victory. The Union was broken up; and Bohemia was placed under such a system of government that in becoming Catholic it lost more than two-thirds of its population, sank from high prosperity to a state of indigence, and ceased to be a seat of art and learning. The Spanish troops and the army of the League next invaded the palatinate, which after severe struggles, was finally subdued; and there also the process of conversion was carried on with a thoroughness which ended in the death or exile of multitudes of the inhabitants. Frederick was banished from his inheritance; and the electorate he was declared to have forfeited was conferred on Duke Maximilian.

Thus ended the first stage of the Thirty Years’ War. The second began (1625) by the formation, after much fruitless negotiation, of the Protestant League, which comprised England, Holland, and Denmark. The burden of the struggle fell on the last-named power, whose king, Christian IV., was also duke of Holstein, and therefore a prince of the empire. It was in the war with him that Europe first became familiar with the great name of Wallenstein, a Bohemian noble who, by marriage and by loyal service to the emperor, had risen to immense wealth and power. Ferdinand became restive at his dependence on the League, and gladly accepted Wallenstein’s offer to raise an army over which it should have no control. This scheming, mysterious general, cooperating with Tilly and soon casting him into the shade, chased Christian, after the battle of Lutter, into Denmark, and overran Mecklenburg, of which he was created duke. He apparently intended to make himself master of the Hanse towns with the view of securing predominance at sea as well as on land; but this purpose was thwarted by the bravery of the city of Stralsund, which he in vain tried to conquer. Denmark, however, was compelled to conclude peace in 1629.

Intoxicated by success, Ferdinand now issued the edict of restitution, demanding the restoration of all ecclesiastical lands of which the Protestants had become possessed since the treaty of Passau. As two archbishoprics and twelve bishoprics had become Protestant, this was to strike a tremendous blow at his enemies; and it stirred among them intense and universal opposition. At the same time, yielding to Duke Maximilian and other members of the League, he recalled Wallenstein, whose movements had given rise to suspicion. A more inauspicious moment could not have been chosen for these two important steps, for in 1630 Gustavus Adolphus left Sweden at the head of a well-disciplined army for the purpose of raising up the Protestant cause which had fallen so low. At first this great king was received coldly, even by his co-religionists. They wçre ignorant of his designs, and did not want a stranger to profit by the internal disputes of their country. A mistake at the outset would probably have proved fatal to him; but he saw the dangers of his position, and moved so warily that in less than a year he had obtained, partly by intimidation, partly by argument, the alliance of the duke of Pomerania and the elector of Saxcny. Tilly, at the head of nearly the whole force of the League, met him at Breitenfeld, and was completely defeated. This victory put Germany at his feet; and had he realized how utterly he had broken the imperial strength, he might have advanced on Vienna itself. He preferred, however, to make the country around and behind him absolutely secure; and everywhere the cities opened their gates to him as the deliverer of the Protestants. After again defeating Tilly, who was wounded and died, he took possession of the palace at Munich, while Duke Maximilian fled. Whatever may have been the motives of Gustavus in undertaking this memorable expedition,—and they were probably not altogether unselfish,—he had the power of kindling confidence and enthusiasm among those who depended upon him; and the result of his presence in South Germany was that the faith of the Protestants in their cause and in themselves revived, and that they no longer doubted of ultimate victory. The emperor felt how great had been his mistake in dismissing Wallenstein, and after many fruitless entreaties, at last persuaded him to come forth from his retirement and form a second army. He did so on condition that he should have absolute command; and so urgent was the need of his services that Ferdinand allowed him to make himself in this way a great and dangerous power within the state. In 1632 he was defeated at the battle of Lützen; but the defeat was better than an ordinary victory, for the Swedish hero was among the slain. Wallenstein now aimed at becoming a great sovereign; perhaps he even aspired to the imperial crown itself. In any case his dilatory movements, his endless intrigues, and his haughty tone caused such profound uneasiness at Vienna that in 1634 he was got rid of by murder.

For fourteen years longer, although the original objects of the war were almost forgotten, the tempest continued to sweep over Germany. It received a fresh impetus from the intervention of Cardinal Richelieu, who, although the enemy of Protestants in France, thought fit to weaken Austria by aiding them in Germany. While Gustavus Adolphus lived, Richelieu was kept comparatively in the background; after the king’s death he was one of the mainsprings of the war. At last, in 1648, after five years of negotiation at Osnabrück and Münster, the peace of Westphalia was concluded.

The Thirty Years’ War settled once for all the principle that men should not be persecuted for their religious faith. It is true that the peace of Westphalia formally recognized only the three creeds, Catholicism, Lutheranism, and Calvinism, but so much suffering had been caused by the interference of the state with individual conviction, that toleration in the largest sense, so. far as law was concerned, was virtually conceded. This was the sole advantage gained from the war by the Protestants. The Catholics insisted at first on keeping all the ecclesiastical lands which had been taken from them before the edict of restitution in 1630. The Protestants responded by demanding that they should lose nothing which they had held before 1618, when the war began. A compromise was at last effected by both parties agreeing to the date 1624,—an arrangement which secured to the Catholics their immense gains in Bohemia and the other territories of the house of Hapsburg. The restoration of the elector palatine to part of his lands, and his reinstatement in the electoral office, were important concessions; but on the other hand, the duke of Bavaria kept the Rhenish palatinate, and, as he remained an elector, the votes of the Protestants in the electoral college were fewer by one than they had been in 1618.

The country suffered enormous territorial losses by the war. Up to this time the possession of Metz, Toul, and Verdun by France had never been officially recognized; now these bishoprics were formally conceded to her. She also received as much of Alsace as belonged to Austria. To the Swedes were granted Western Pomerania, with Stettin, and the bishoprics of Bremen and Verden. These acquisitions, which surpassed the advantages Gustavus Adolphus had hoped to win, gave Sweden the command both of the Baltic and of the North Sea. In virtue of her German possessions Sweden became a member of the empire; but France obtained absolute control of her new territories. There was a further diminutioα of Germany by the recognition of the independence of Switzerland and the United Provinces. Both had long been virtually free; they now for the first time took the position of distinct nations.

In the political constitution of Germany the peace of Westphalia did not so much make changes as sanction those already effected. The whole tendency of the Reformation had been to relax the bonds which united the various elements of the state to each other and to their head. It divided the nation into two bitterly hostile parties, and the emperor was not able to assume towards them a perfectly impartial position. His imperial crown imposed upon him the necessity of associating himself with the Catholics; so that the Protestants had a new and powerful reason for looking upon him with jealousy, and trying to diminish his authority. The Catholics, while maintaining their religion, were willing enough to co-operate with them for this object; and Germany often saw the strange spectacle of princes rallying round the emperor for the defence of the church, and at the same time striking deadly blows at his political influence. The diet was a scene of perpetual quarrelling between the two factions, and their differences made it impossible for the imperial chamber to move beyond the region of official routine. Thus before the Thirty Years’ War the empire had virtually ceased to exist, Germany having become a loose confederation of principalities and free cities. For a moment the emperor Ferdinand appeared to have touched the ideal of Charles V., in so far, at least, as it related to Germany, but only for a moment. The stars in their courses fought against him, and at the time of his death he saw how far beyond his power were the forces with which even Charles had been unable to contend. The state of things which actually existed the peace of Westphalia made legal. So nearly complete was the independence of the states that each received the right to form alliances with any of the others or with foreign powers, nominally on condition that their alliances should not be injurious to the emperor or to the empire. Any authority which still lawfully belonged to the emperor was transferred to the diet. It alone had now the power of making laws, of concluding treaties in the name of Germany, and of declaring war and re-establishing peace. No one, however, expected that it would be of any real service. After 1654 it became a permament body, and was attended only by the representatives of the princes and the cities; and from that time it occupied itself mainly with trifles, leaving the affairs of each state to be looked after by its own authorities, and those of the country generally to such fortunes as chance should determine.

It would not have been strange if so shadowy an empire had been brought altogether to an end. Some slight bond of connexion was, however, necessary for defence against common dangers; and the empire had existed so long, and so many great associations were connected with it, that it seemed to all parties preferable to any other form of union. Moreover, Sweden, and other states which were now members of the empire, warmly supported it; and the house of Hapsburg, on which it reflected a certain splendour, would not willingly have let it die. An Austrian ruler, even when he spoke only in the name of Austria, derived authority from the fact that as emperor he represented many of the greatest memories of European history.

The effect of the Thirty Years’ War on the national life was disastrous. It had not been carried on by disciplined armies, but by hordes of adventurers whose sole object was plunder. The cruelties they inflicted on their victims are almost beyond conception. Before the war the population was about twenty millions; after it the number was probably five or seven millions, and cannot have been more than ten. Whole towns and villages were laid in ashes, and vast districts turned into deserts. Churches and schools were closed by hundreds, and to such straits were the people often reduced that cannibalism is said to have been not uncommon. Industry and trade were so completely paralysed that in 1635 the Hanseatic League was virtually broken up, because the members, once so wealthy, could not meet the expenditure it involved. The population was not only impoverished and reduced in numbers but broken in spirit. It lost confidence in itself, and for a time effected in politics, literature, art, and science little that is worthy of serious study.

The princes knew well how to profit by the national prostration. The local diets, which, as we have seen, formed a real check on petty tyranny, and kept up an intimate relation between the princes and their subjects, were nearly all destroyed. Those which remained were injurious rather than beneficial, since they often gave an appearance of lawfulness to the caprices of arbitrary sovereigns. After the Thirty Years’ War it became fashionable for the heirs of principalities to travel, and especially to spend some time at the court of France. Here they readily imbibed the ideas of Louis XIV., and in a short time every petty court iu Germany was a feeble imitation of Versailles. Before the Reformation, and even for some time after it, the princes were thorough Germans in sympathies and habits; they now began to be separated by a wide gulf from their people. Instead of studying the general welfare, they cruelly wrung from exhausted states the largest possible revenue to support a lavish and ridiculous expenditure. The pettiest princeling had his army, his palaces, his multitudes of household officers; and most of them pampered every vulgar appetite without respect either to morality or decency. Many nobles, whose lands had been wasted during the war, flocked to the little capitals to make their way by contemptible court services. Beneath an outward gloss of refinement these nobles were, as a class, coarse and selfish, and they made it their chief object to promote their own interests by fostering absolutist tendencies. Among the people there was no public opinion to discourage despotism; the majority accepted their lot as inevitable, and tried rather to reproduce than to restrain the vices of their rulers. Even the churches offered little opposition to the excesses of persons in authority, and in many instances the clergy, both Protestant and Catholic, acquired an unenviable notoriety for their readiness to overlook or condone actions which outraged the higher sentiments of humanity. In the free imperial cities there was more manliness of tone than elsewhere, but there was little of the generous rivalry among the different classes which had once raised them to a high level of prosperity. Most of them resigned their liberties into the hands of oligarchies, and others allowed themselves t⅛ be annexed by ambitious princes.

Modern Times.

Ferdinand III. (1637-57) succeeded to the throne when the fortunes of his house were at a low ebb, and he continued the Thirty Years’ War, not in the hope of re-establishing the Catholic religion or of restoring the imperial authority, but to undo as much as he could the havoc caused by his father’s recklessness. After the conclusion of peace nothing happened to make his reign memorable. His son, Leopold I. (1658-1705), was a man of narrow intellect and feeble will; yet Germany seldom so keenly felt the need of a strong emperor, for she had during two generations to contend with a watchful and grasping rival. For more than a century it had been the policy of France to strengthen herself by fostering the internal dissensions of Germany. This was now easy, and Louis XIV. made unscrupulous use of the advantages his predecessors had helped to gain for him. Germany as a whole could not for a long time be induced to resist him. His schemes directly threatened the independence of the princes; but they were too indolent to unite against his ambition. They grudged even the contributions necessary for the maintenance of the frontier fortresses, and many of them stooped to accept the bribes he offered them on condition that they should remain quiet. In his war with the United Provinces and Spain, begun in 1672, he was opposed by the emperor as ruler of Austria, and by Frederick William, the elector of Brandenburg; and in 1675 the latter gained a splendid victory at Fehrbellin over his allies, the Swedes. At the end of the war, in 1678, by the peace of Nimeguen, Louis took care that Frederick William was deprived of the fruits of his victory, and Austria had to resign Freiburg in Breisgau to the French. Under the pretence that when France gained the Austrian lands in Alsace she also acquired a right to all places that had ever been united to them, Louis began a series of systematic robberies of German towns and territories. “Chambers of Reunion” were appointed to give an appearance of legality to these proceedings, which culminated, in 1681, in the seizure of Strasburg. Germans of all states and ranks were indignant at so gross a humiliation, but even the loss of Strasburg did not suffice to move the diet. The emperor himself might probably have interfered, but Louis had provided him with ample employment by stirring up against him the Hungarians and the Turks. So complete was his hold over the majority of the princes that when the Turks, in 1683, surrounded Vienna, and appeared not unlikely to advance into the heart of Germany, they looked on indifferently, and allowed the emperor to be saved by the promptitude and courage of Sobieski, king of Poland. At last, when, in 1689, on the most frivolous pretext, Louis poured into south Germany armies which were guilty of shameful outrages, a number of princes came forward and aided the emperor. This time France was sternly opposed by the league of which William III. of England was the moving spirit; and although at the end of the war he kept Strasburg, he had to give up Freiburg, Philipsburg, Breisach, and the places he had seized because of their former connexion with Alsace. In the war of the Spanish succession two powerful princes, the elector of Bavaria and the elector of Cologne, joined Louis; but as the states of the empire declared war against him in 1702, the other princes, more or less loyally, supported the emperor and his allies. Leopold died during the progress of this war, but it was vigorously continued by his son Joseph I. (1705-11). Charles VI. (1711-40) also went on with it; and such were the blows inflicted on France by the victories of Blenheim, Ramillies, and Malplaquet that the war was generally expected to end in her utter discomfiture. But the conclusion of the treaty of Utrecht by England, in 1713, so limited the military power of Charles VI. that he was obliged to resign the claims of Austria to the Spanish throne, and to content himself with the Spanish Netherlands, Milan, Naples, and Sardinia. He cared so little for Germany, as distinguished from Austria, that he allow r ed Louis to compel the diet to cede the imperial fortress of Landau. At a later stage in his reign he was guilty of an act of even grosser selfishness; for after the war of the Polish succession, in which he supported the claims of Augustus III., elector of Saxony, he yielded Lorraine to Leszczynski, whose claims had been defended by France, and through whom France ultimately secured this beautiful German province. Having no son, Charles drew up in 1713 the pragmatic sanction, which ordained that, in the event of an Austrian ruler being without male heirs, his hereditary lands and titles should pass to his nearest female relative. The aim of his whole policy was to secure for this measure, which was proclaimed as a fundamental law in 1724, the approval of Europe; and by promises and threats he did at last obtain the guarantee of the states of the empire and the leading European powers.

Germany was now about to be aroused from the torpor into which she had been cast by the Thirty Years’ War; but her awakening was due, not to the action of the empire, which was more and more seen to be practically dead, but to the rivalry of two great German states, Austria and Prussia. The latter had long been laying the foundations of her power. Brandenburg, the centre of the Prussian kingdom, was, as we have seen, granted in the Iðth century by the emperor Sigismund to Frederick, count of Hoheu-zollern. In his hands, and in those of his prudent successors, it became one of the most flourishing of the North-German principalities. At the time of the Reformation Albert, a member of a subordinate branch of the house of Hohenzollern, happened to be grand master of the Teutonic Order. He became a Protestant, dissolved the order, and received in fief of the king of Poland the duchy of Prussia. In 1611 this duchy fell by inheritance to the elector of Brandenburg, and by the treaty of Wehlau, in 1657, in the time of Frederick William, the Great Elector, it was declared independent of Poland. By skill, foresight, and courage Frederick William managed to add largely to his territories; and in an age of degenerate sovereigns he was looked upon as an almost model ruler. His son, Frederick, aspired to royal dignity, and in 1701, having obtained the emperor’s assent, was crowned king of Prussia. The extravagance of Frederick drained the resources of his state, but this was amply atoned for by the rigid economy of Frederick William I., who not only paid off the debts accumulated by his father, but amassed an enormous treasure. He so organized all branches of the public service that they were brought to a point of high efficiency, and his army was one of the largest, best appointed, and best trained in Europe. He died in 17 40, and within six months, when Frederick II. was on the Prussian throne, Maria Theresa claimed, in virtue of the pragmatic sanction, the lands and hereditary titles of her father, Charles VI.

Frederick II., a young, ambitious, and energetic sovereign, longed not only to add to his dominions but to play a great part in European politics. His father had guaranteed the pragmatic sanction, but as the conditions on which the guarantee had been granted had not been fulfilled by Charles VI., Frederick did not feel bound by it, and revived some old claims of his family on certain Silesian duchies. Maria Theresa would not abate her rights, but before she could assert them Frederick had entered Silesia and made himself master of it. Meanwhile, the elector of Bavaria had come forward and disputed Maria Theresa’s right to the succession, and the elector of Saxony had also put in a claim to the Austrian lands. Taking advantage of these disputes, France formed an alliance with the two electors and with the king of Prussia against Austria; and in the war which followed the allies were at first so successful that the elector of Bavaria, through the influence of France, was crowned emperor as Charles VII. (1742-45). Maria Theresa, a lady of a noble and undaunted spirit, appealed, with her infant son, afterwards Joseph II., in her arms, to the Hungarian diet, and the enthusiastic Magyars responded chivalrously to her call. To be more at freedom she concluded peace with Frederick, and ceded Silesia to him, although greatly against her will. Saxony also was pacified and retired from the struggle. After this Maria Theresa, supported by England, made way so rapidly and so triumphantly that Frederick became alarmed for his new possession; and in 1742 he once more proclaimed war against her, nominally in aid of the emperor, Charles VII. Ultimately, in 1748, she was able to conclude an honourable peace at Aix-la-Chapelle; but she had been forced, as before, to rid herself of Frederick by confirming him in the sovereignty of the territory he had seized.

After the death of Charles VII., Francis, grand duke of Tuscany, Maria Theresa’s husband, was elected emperor. Francis I. (1745-65), an amiable nonentity, with the instincts of a shopkeeper, made no pretence of discharging important imperial duties, and the task of ruling the hereditary possessions of the house of Hapsburg fell wholly to the empress-queen. »She executed it with discretion and vigour, so that Austria in her hands was known to be one of the most formidable powers in the world. Her rival, Frederick II., was, if possible, Stillmore active. The bitter experiences of his youth, although they had soured his temper, had not quenched the generous aspirations which had been fed by study of the best writers of his time. It did not occur to him, any more than to the other German sovereigns of the 18th century, to associate his people with him in the government of the country; he was in every respect a thoroughly absolute sovereign. Even his ministers performed but the duties of superior clerks. But he shared the highest ideas of the age respecting the responsibilities of a king, and throughout his long reign acted in the main faithfully as “the first servant of the state.” The army he always kept in readiness for war; but he also encouraged peaceful arts, and diffused throughout his kingdom so much of his own alert and aggressive spirit that the Prussians became more intelligent and more wealthy than they had ever before been. He excited the admiration of the youth of Germany, and it was soon the fashion among the petty princes to imitate his methods of government. As a rule, they succeeded only in raising far larger armies than the taxpayers could afford to maintain.

Maria Theresa never gave up the hope of winning back Silesia, and, in order to secure this object, she laid aside the jealousies of her house, and offered to conclude an alliance with France. Frederick had excited the envy of surrounding sovereigns, and had embittered them against him by stinging sarcasms. Not only France, therefore, but Russia, Saxony, and ultimately Sweden, willingly came to terms with Austria, and the aim of their union was nothing short of the partition of Prussia. Frederick, gaining knowledge of the plot, turned to England, which had in the previous war helped Austria. At the close of 1755 his offer of an alliance was acceded to; and in the following year, hoping by vigorously taking the initiative to prevent his enemies from united action, he invaded Saxony, and began the Seven Years’ War (1756-63).

The result of this war was to confirm Prussia for ever in the possession of Silesia, but it was followed by still greater indirect consequences. Prussia now took rank as one of the leading European powers, and by her rise a new element was introduced into the political life of Germany. Austria, although associated with the empire, could no longer feel sure of her predominance, and it was inevitable that the jealousies of the two states should lead to a final conflict for supremacy. Even before the Seven Years’ War there were signs that the German people were tired of incessant imitation of France, for in literature they welcomed the early efforts of Klopstock, Wieland, and Lessing; but the movement received a powerful impulse from the great deeds of Frederick. The nation, as a whole, was proud of his heroic courage, his splendid military qualities, and his beneficent rule, and began, for the first time since the Thirty Years’ War, to feel that it might once more assume a commanding place in the world. This stir of life ultimately revealed itself in the outburst of philosophic and literary activity represented by the names of Kant, Goethe, and Schiller. By that time Germany had not only asserted intellectual independence, but had become thoroughly tired of the national disunion and of the petty despotisms it imposed upon them.

In 1772 the necessities of Frederick’s position compelled him to join Russia and Austria in the deplorable partition of Poland, whereby he gained West Prussia, exclusive of Dantzic and Thorn, and Austria acquired West Silesia. After this he had to watch closely the movements of the emperor Joseph II. (1765-90), who, although an ardent admirer of Frederick, was anxious to restore to Austria the greatness she had partially lost. The younger branch of the Wittelsbach line, which had hitherto possessed Bavaria, having died out in 1777, Joseph asserted claims to part of its territory. Frederick intervened, and although no battle was fought in the nominal war which followed, the emperor was obliged to content himself with a very unimportant concession. He made a second attempt in 1785, but Frederick again came forward. This time he formed a league for the defence of the imperial constitution, and it was joined by the majority of the small states. The memory of this league was almost blotted out by the tremendous events which soon absorbed the attention of Germany and the world, but it truly indicated the direction of the political forces which were then at work beneath the surface, and which long afterwards triumphed. The formation of the league was a distinct attempt on the part of Prussia to make herself the centre for the national aspirations both of northern and of southern Germany.

The French Revolution was hailed by many of the best minds of Germany as the opening of a new era. Among the princes it excited horror and alarm, and in 1792 the emperor Leopold II. (1790-92), and Frederick William II, the unworthy successor of Frederick the Great, met at Pillnitz, and agreèd to support by arms the cause of the French king. A more important resolution was never taken. It plunged Europe into a conflict which cost millions of lives, and which overthrew the entire state system of the Continent. Germany herself was the principal sufferer. The structure which the princes had so laboriously built up crumbled into ruins, and the mistakes of centuries were expiated in an agony of disaster and humiliation.

The states of the empire joined Austria and Prussia, and, had there been hearty co-operation between the allies, they could scarcely have failed of success. While the war was in progress, in 1793, Prussia joined Russia in the second partition of Poland. Austria considered herself overreached, and began negotiations with Russia for the third and final partition, which was effected by the three powers in 1795. Prussia, irritated by the proceedings of her rival, did as little as possible in the war with France; and in 1795 she retired from the struggle, ceding to France her possessions on the left bank of the Rhine. The war was continued by Austria, but her power was so effectually shattered by blow after blow that in 1797 she was forced to conclude the peace of Campo Formio. Napoleon Bonaparte, to whose genius the triumph of France was mainly due, began separate negotiations with the states of the empire at Rastadt; but, before terms could be agreed upon, war again began in 1799, Austria acting on this occasion as the ally of England and Russia. She was beaten, and the peace of Lunéville added fresh humiliations to those imposed upon her by the previous war. France now obtained the whole of the left bank of the Rhine, the dispossessed princes being compensated by grants of secularized church lands and of mediatized imperial cities. The contempt of Napoleon for the empire was illustrated by his occupation of Hanover in 1803, and by his seizure of the duke of Enghien on imperial territory in 1804. In 1805 Austria once more appealed to arms in association with her former allies, but in vain. By the peace of Presburg she accepted more disastrous terms than ever, and for the moment it seemed as if she could not again hope to rise to her former splendour. In this war she was opposed not only by France, but by Bavaria, Würtemberg. and Baden, all of which were liberally rewarded for their services, the rulers of the two former countries being proclaimed kings. The degradation of Germany was completed by the formation, in 1806, of the Confederation of the Rhine, which was composed of the chief central and southern states. The welfare of the empire was asserted to be its object, but a body of which Napoleon was the protector existed, of course, for no other purpose than to be a menace to Austria and Prussia. Francis II., who had succeeded Leopold II. in 1792, now resigned the imperial crown, and thus the empire and the German kingdom came to an end. The various states, which had for centuries been virtually independent, were during the next few years not connected even by a nominal bond.

Frederick William III. (1797-1840) of Prussia, the successor of Frederick William II., had held selfishly aloof from the struggle of Austria with France. Alarmed by the Confederation of the Rhine, he suddenly resolved on war. Napoleon gladly accepted the challenge, and Prussia was so ill-prepared for the contest she had invited that the first serious battle—the battle of Jena—prostrated her at his feet. Aided by Russia, the king held out some time longer; but when, after the battle of Friedland, in 1807, the czar was detached from the alliance, Frederick William had to sign the treaty of Tilsit, by which he was deprived of the best part of his kingdom and of more than half his subjects.

In 1809 Austria made one more attempt to retrieve her fortunes, and at first not without success. After the battle of Wagram, however, Napoleon dictated peace from Vienna.

Germany was now thoroughly in the grip of France, and the French emperor proved how absolute was his power by annexing, in 1810, the whole northern coast as far as the Elbe. The completeness of the humiliation of Germany was the means of her deliverance. She had been taught self-respect by Frederick II., and by her great writers in literature aud philosophy; it was felt to be intolerable that in politics she should do the bidding of a foreign master. Among a large section of the community patriotism became for the first time a consuming passion, and it was stimulated by the counsels of several manly teachers, among whom the first place belongs to Fichte. The Governments responded prudently to the national movement. Even in Austria timely concessions were made to her various populations. Prussia, under the guidance of her great minister Stein, reorganized her entire administration. She abolished serfdom, granted municipal rights to the cities, established an admirable system of elementary and secondary education, and invited all classes to compete for civil offices; and ample means were provided for the approaching struggle by drastic military reform. Napoleon had exacted an engagement that the Prussian army should be limited to 42,000 men. This was fulfilled in the letter, but in spirit set aside, for one body of men was trained after another until the larger part of the male population were in a position, when a fitting opportunity should occur, to take up arms for their country.

The disastrous retreat of the French from Moscow in 1812 gave Germany the occasion she desired. In 1813 Prussia formed an alliance with Russia, which was ultimately joined by Austria, and in the great battle of Leipsic the issue was virtually settled. The first peace of Paris was soon followed by the escape of Napoleon from Elba; but in the battle of Waterloo he was decisively overcome, and Europe had no more to fear from his ambition. The Germans believed that by the second peace of Paris they ought to have received back all the lands which had ever been taken froιη, them by France, but they had to content themselves with the recovery of their boundary as it had existed in 1792.

Between the conclusion of the first and the second peace of Paris the congress of Vienna had met and finished its labours. It was hard to reconcile the conflicting claims of so many states, and no party was fully satisfied with the compromise arrived at. The kingdom of Westphalia, and several other states set up by Napoleon, were brought to an end. Prussia was compensated for her losses by receiving a part of Saxony, the Rhineland, and Swedish Pomerania; and to Austria were restored Salzburg, Vorarlberg, and Tyrol. Most of the members of the Rhenish Confederation were either left alone or deprived of small portions of territory; Hanover was made a kingdom; Weimar, Mecklenburg, and Oldenburg became grand duchies; and Lübeck, Bremen, Hamburg, and Frankfort were declared free cities.

In regard to the political constitution of Germany, the people were prepared for great and far-reaching changes. The need of union had been impressed upon them by the bitter experiences of nearly a generation, and they would have welcomed the establishment of a vigorous empire. But the jealousies of Austria and Prussia, and the hostility of the petty princes, prevented the popular policy from being adopted. Instead of an empire the congress formed the German bund or confederation. It was composed of 39 states, each of which was to be independent in regard to its internal affairs, the confederation taking cognizance only of matters of common interest. A permanent diet, in which each state should have its representative, was formed; it was to sit in Frankfort, and to be presided over by the Austrian plenipotentiary. This body was to settle all disputed questions between the various states, each of which engaged never to make war on any of the others, nor to form alliances which should be injurious to a member of the bund.

The events which arose from the French Revolution had awakened in the German mind not only a passionate desire for unity but an equally intense wish for freedom. Growing intelligence had revealed to the people that personal rule is ill-adapted to the wants of a civilized community, especially the personal rule of such men as the majority of their princes, who clung obstinately to every kind of abuse, and regarded their functions as a means rather of glorifying themselves than of promoting the general welfare. Humiliating as had been their submission to France, it had done something to deepen this conviction, for in the districts ruled by French officials a higher idea of human rights was introduced than had before prevailed, and what was great and attractive in the principles of the Revolution stirred general sympathy. So urgent were the demands for free government that, while the struggle with Napoleon remained undecided, the princes made lavish promises of concession after peace should be restored. The act of confederation contained a positive decree that in each state should be established a constitutional system.

The history of the next period is little more than a history of the elaborate and pitiful devices by which the German sovereigns evaded their engagements. Within a few years, indeed, the rulers of Nassau, Weimar, Bavaria, Baden, and Wurtemberg granted constitutions, but even in these countries absolutism was only in a slight degree modified. In Austria, where Prince Metternich was the controlling spirit, the most diverse nationalities were governed as if they had been a single people, and the methods of rule were as despotic and harsh as could be tolerated in a modern community. Although Frederick William III. of Prussia could not act upon quite so antiquated a system as Francis L, he resisted popular aspirations. The utmost concession he made was to appoint a number of provincial diets, which tended rather to foster than to allay the general discontent. Every opportunity was seized by the various Governments to repress the free movement of ideas. A number of students were guilty of some follies at a festival in the Wartburg, and some time afterwards a fanatical youth stabbed Kotzebue, the playwright, who had sided with the reactionary party. These incidents were held to be symptoms of a grave peril; and in 1819 a conference of ministers at Carlsbad issued what were called the Carlsbad decrees, placing the universities under police supervision, reviving a rigid censorship, and opposing the cession of state constitutions. A central commission of inquiry was also appointed for the purpose of hunting out secret societies, the very existence of which was merely subject of conjecture. In the diet, whose authority was slighted by these decrees, there were several members favourable to a conciliatory policy; and in the small states liberal politicians continued to demand parliamentary representation. The reactionists, however, were united and determined, and succeeded in thwarting political progress until 1830. Even in that year the Prussian and Austrian Governments were able to hold on in their old path, but the French Revolution caused so loud an outcry in countries in which the police were less powerful, that Hanover, Brunswick, Saxony, and Hesse-Cassel received constitutions, and in the lands where parliaments already existed the Governments granted freedom of the press, and promised more liberal legislation for the future. The two leading powers looked upon these changes with extreme disapproval, and they soon made use of the diet as a means of virtually annulling every measure that conflicted with their own aims. When the diet was instituted, it had been hoped that it would ultimately lead to closer national unity, and to the establishment of modern political institutions. It was now seen to be a mere instrument in the hands of the enemies both of unity and of liberty. So soon did the princes pluck up courage that in 1837 Ernest Augustus, who succeeded William IV. of England as king of Hanover, abolished the constitution which his predecessor had sanctioned, and set up another of an earlier period and of a far less liberal character. This unlawful act met with resistance which had to be put down by force. An appeal on behalf of the constitution was made to the diet, but with the result that was to be expected from its previous action; it declined to consider the question.

During this dismal period almost the sole political event on which Germans can look back with pleasure is the formation of the Zollverein or customs union. As in all other respects, the bund had failed to realize the expectations it had excited respecting the abolition of injurious restrictions on commerce. Several attempts had been made by groups oi states to regulate their customs, but none of them had been attended with much success. At last Prussia arrived at an understanding with Bavaria, Wurtemberg, and several other states, and between 1833 and 1835 the union thus formed was joined by all German countries with the exception of Austria. It happened that about this time railways began to be introduced. The customs union enabled the nation to derive from them the utmost possible benefit, so that the prevalent political confusion did not hinder the population from attaining to considerable material prosperity. The obvious advantages of commercial union deepened the desire for unity in every great department of the national life, and at the same time raised the position of Prussia, which had been wise enough to associate itself with a most important movement.

It was not only by its relation to the customs union that Prussia attracted the attention and awakened the hopes of German liberals. In 1840 Frederick William IV. (1840-61) succeeded his father, and, as he was known to be a thoughtful and cultivated prince, there was a general expectation that he would abandon the arbitrary ideas of Frederick William III. He began his reign well. For some years the Government had been in conflict with the Catholic Church; the struggle was at once ended by graceful concessions. The king pardoned political prisoners, restored to their offices certain professors who had been degraded during the previous reign for supposed revolutionary tendencies, and welcomed to the Berlin University the brothers Grimm, who, with five other professors, had been driven from Göttingen for protesting against the violence of Ernest Augustus. But it soon became manifest that Frederick William’s favourite conception of “the Christian state” did not include auy genuine exercise of political power by the nation; he wished to rule in a more enlightened spirit than his father, but not less absolutely. It was arranged that the provincial diets established by Frederick William III. should meet periodically, but this was a poor substitute for the great positive measures which had been anticipated. And within a very few years “the Christian state” was found to be compatible with a strict censorship, with the arbitrary punishment of schoolmasters, clergymen, and judges who did not meet the approval of the Government, and generally with incessant and irritating interference with the private life of the individual. The king lost all the popularity he had acquired in the early days of his reign by vaguely enthusiastic promises, and impartial observers saw that he and his people must sooner or later enter upon a serious struggle. A like state of things existed all over Germany. The German, Hungarian, Slavonic, and Italian subjects of the emperor Ferdinand (1835-48), who succeeded Francis I., were all agitating for reform; and in Bavaria, Hesse-Cassel, and Baden reactionary ministers were confronted by opponents who daily acquired increased influ nee among the masses of the population.

In so many threatening forms did the rising spirit of the Prussian people reveal itself that in 1847 the king summoned to Berlin a united diet composed of the representatives of the provincial diets. This assembly truly expressed the popular feeling, but with so much moderation, and accompanying its demands by so many sincere assurances of loyalty, that it could not alarm the most timid. Frederick William, however, was offended by its tone, and haughtily proclaimed that he would never abate the rights which, as a lawful prince, he held by a higher than human authority.

Such was the condition of Germany at the breaking out of the French revolution of 1848. Its effect upon the public mind was immediate and profound. It had been made clear that no dependence was to be placed upon the engagements of the sovereigns, and that if anything was to be done it must be done by the people themselves. At a convention in Mannheim four demands were formulated— freedom of the press, trial by jury, national armies, and national representation. These demands were universally adopted as the liberal programme; and within a few days there was a liberal ministry in every one of the small states. In Bavaria, King Louis, whose well-meant efforts to make Munich a centre of art had not induced the nation to forget its political rights, resigned the crown to his son Maximilian. The popular excitement in Austria became so intense that Prince Metternich was dismissed, constitutional government was promised, and the Hungarians received a new cabinet. Still more vehement was the revolutionary movement in Prussia. Scenes of great violence occurred in the streets of Berlin, and on the 18th of March the king, who had previously tried to allay the storm by announcing that the united diet should meet periodically,—a concession he had refused to make at the proper moment,—declared that the national desire for a constitution should be satisfied. There was, however, a general feeling of distrust, and a conflict, which continued till the following morning, broke out between the troops and the population. Frederick William, who, although an ardent upholder of the divine right of kings, was too kind-hearted aman and too timid to approve of a struggle of this kind, laid aside his high pretensions, changed his ministers, and asserted that he would place himself at the head of the national movement. By these means a more pacific temper was restored, and, after the united diet had passed an electoral law, the country was called upon to choose a national assembly.

It was not only reform in the individual states that was demanded in 1848; the majority of the people felt that the time had come for sweeping away the effete bund which had done service only to the enemies of freedom, and for replacing it by a system of national representation which should maintain the dignity of Germany abroad and foster enlightened institutions at home. There was, indeed, a general conviction' that only by means of a great central movement could the special agitations lead to enduring results. A number of deputies, belonging to different legislative assemblies, taking it upon themselves to give voice to the national demands, met at Heidelberg, and a committee appointed by them invited all Germans who then were, or who had formerly been, members of diets, as well as some other public men, to meet at Frankfort for the purpose of considering the question of national reform.

About 500 representatives accepted the invitation. They constituted themselves a preliminary parliament, and at once began to provide for the election of a national assembly. It was decided that there should be a representative for every group of 50,000 inhabitants, and that the election should be by universal suffrage. A considerable party wished that the preliminary parliament should continue to act until the assembly should be formed, but this was overruled, the majority contenting themselves with the appointment of a committee of 50, whose duty it should be in the interval to guard the national interests. Some of those who were discontented with this decision retired from the preliminary parliament, and a few of them, of republican sympathies, called the population of Upper Baden to arms. The rising was put down by the troops of Baden, but it did considerable injury by awakening the fears of the more moderate portion of the community. Great hindrances were put in the way of the elections, but, as the Prussian and Austrian Governments were too much occupied with their immediate difficulties to resist to the uttermost, the assembly was at last chosen, and met at Frankfort on the 18th May. The old diet broke up, and the national representatives had before them a clear field. There is no reason to doubt that if they had acted with promptitude and discretion they would have succeeded in the task they had undertaken. Neither Austria nor Prussia was for some time in a position to thwart them, and the sovereigns of the smaller states were too much afraid of the revolutionary elements manifested on all sides to give way to reactionary impulses. But the Germans had had no experience of free political life. Nearly every deputy had his own theory of the course which ought to be pursued, and felt sure that the country would go to ruin if it were not adopted. Learned professors and talkative journalists insisted on delivering interminable speeches, and on examining in the light of ultimate philosophical principles every proposal laid before the assembly. Thus precious time was lost, violent antagonisms were called forth, the patience of the nation was exhausted, and the reactionary forces were able to gather strength for once more asserting themselves. The very first important question brought out the weaknesses of the deputies. This related to the nature of the central provisional executive. A committee appointed to discuss the matter suggested that there should be a directory of three members, appointed by the German Governments, subject to the approval of the assembly, and ruling by means of ministers responsible to the latter body. This elaborate scheme found favour with a large number of members, but others insisted that there should be a president or a central committee, appointed by the assembly, while another party pleaded that the assembly itself should exercise executive as well as legislative functions. At last, after a vast amount of tedious and useless discussion, it was agreed that the assembly should appoint an imperial vicar who should carry on the government by means of a ministry selected by himself; and, by the decision of a large majority, the archduke John of Austria was chosen for the office. With as little delay as possible he formed an imperial cabinet, aud there were hopes that, as his appointment was generally approved both by the sovereigns and the people, more rapid progress would be made with the great and complicated work in hand. Unfortunately, however, it was necessary to enter upon the discussion of the fundamental laws, a subject presenting many opportunities for the display of rhetoric and intellectual subtlety. It was soon obvious that beneath all varieties of individual opinion there w ere two bitterly hostile tendencies—those of the republicans, and those of the constitutionalists. These two parties attacked each other with constantly growing animosity, and in a few weeks sensible men outside the assembly gave up all hope of their dealing satisfactorily with the problem they had been appointed to solve.

In the midst of these disputes the attention of the nation was occupied by a question which had arisen before the outbreak of the revolutionary movements,—the so-called “Schleswig-Holstein question.” In 1846 Christian VIII. of Denmark had officially proclaimed that Schleswig and the greater part of Holstein were indissolubly connected with the Danish monarchy. This excited vehement opposition among the Germans, on the ground that Holstein, although subject to the king of Denmark, was a member of the German confederation, and that in virtue of ancient treaties it could not be severed from Schleswig. In 1848 the German party in the duchies, headed by Prince Frederick of Augustenburg, rose against the Danish Government. Frederick VII., who had just succeeded Christian VIII., put down the rebellion, but Prussia, acting in the name of the confederation, despatched an army against the Danes, and drove them from Schleswig. The Danes, who were supported by Russia, responded by blockading the Baltic ports, which Germany, having no navy, was unable effectually to defend. By the mediation of England an armistice was concluded, and the Prussian troops evacuated the northern districts of Schleswig. As the Danes soon afterwards took possession of Schleswig again, the Prussians once more drove them back, but on the 26th of August an armistice of seven months was agreed upon at Malmoe.

The new Frankfort Government disapproved the conditions of this armistice; but, as it had empowered Prussia to act for it, it was obliged to accept what had been done. The majority of the assembly, furious at an arrangement which was denounced as a national humiliation, decided that the armistice should not be sanctioned. The ministry resigned; but, a new combination being .impossible, it was replaced, and the assembly unwillingly agreed to accept the armistice, on the understanding that the Government should lose no time in negotiating for peace on fair terms. A large minority, however, was intensely dissatisfied. It was composed of the republicans and other radical sections; and when defeated, they appealed from the assembly to the people. The Government kept its place, but was unable to prevent a rising which led to the murder of two unpopular representatives. There were also temporary republican agitations in Baden and Würtemberg.

While these events were in progress, it seemed not impossible that the Austrian empire would fall to pieces. Bohemia and the Italian states were in revolt, and the Hungarians strove with passionate earnestness for independence. Towards the end of 1848 Vienna was completely in the hands of the revolutionary party, and it was retaken only after desperate fighting. A reactionary ministry, headed by Prince Schwarzenberg, was then raised to power, and in order that a strong policy might be the more vigorously pushed forward, the emperor Ferdinand resigned, and was succeeded by his nephew, Francis Joseph.

The prospects of reform were not much more favourable in Prussia. The assembly summoned amid the revolutionary excitement of March met on the 22d May. Demands for a constitutional system were urged with great force, and they would probably have been granted but for the opposition due to the violence of politicians out of doors. The aristocratic class saw ruin before it if the smallest concession were made to popular wishes, and it soon recovered from the terror into which it had been plunged at the outbreak of the revolution. Extreme antagonism was excited by such proposals as that the king should no longer be said to wear his crown “by grace of God;” and the animosity between the liberal and the conservative sections was driven to the highest pitch when, in the midst of the struggle between the populace and the Government in Vienna, it was proposed that Prussia should support the cause of freedom. The motion, although at first rejected, was passed in a modified form. Before this, ministry after ministry had been appointed, but none had been so decidedly reactionary as to preclude the hope of a settlement. Now the king resolved to break finally with the liberals, and, notwithstanding a solemn warning addressed to him by a deputation from the assembly, he called to office a cabinet about whose intentions there could be no misunderstanding. On the pretext that fair deliberation was impossible in the capital, the assembly was ordered to meet in Brandenburg, troops were concentrated near Berlin, and a state of siege was proclaimed. In vain the assembly protested and continued its sittings, going even so far as to forbid the payment of taxes while it was subjected to illegal treatment. It was forced in the end to submit, but the discussions in Brandenburg were no more successful than those in Berlin« At last, on the 5th December, the king dissolved the assembly, granted a constitution about which it had not been consulted, and gave orders for the election of a representative chamber.

About the time that the Prussian parliament was thus created, and that the emperor Ferdinand resigned, the Frankfort assembly succeeded in formulating the fundamental laws, which were duly proclaimed to be the fundamental laws of Germany as it was now to be constituted. The principal clauses of the constitution then began to be discussed. By far the most difficult question was the relation in which Austria should stand to the Germany of the future. There was a universal wish that the Austrian Germans should be included in the German state; on the other hand, it was felt that if all the various*nationalities of Austria formed a united monarchy, and if this monarchy as a whole were included in the confederation, it would necessarily overshadow Germany, and expose her to unnecessary external dangers. It was therefore resolved that, although a German country might be under the same ruler as non-German lands, it could not be so joined to them as to form with them a single nation. Had the assembly adopted this resolution at once, instead of exhausting itself by pedantic disquisitions on the abstract principles of jurisprudence, it might have hoped to triumph; but Austria was not likely to submit to so severe a blow at the very time when she was strong enough to appoint a reactionary Government, and had nearly re-established her authority, not only in Vienna, but in Bohemia and in Italy. Prince Schwarzenberg took the earliest opportunity to declare that the empire could not assent to any weakening of its influence. Bitter strife now broke out in the assembly. Two of the ministers resigned, and one of those who took their place, Herr von Gagern, proposed that, since Austria was to be a united state, she should not enter the confederation, but that her relations to Germany should be regulated by a special act of union. This of course meant that Prussia should be at the head of Germany, and recommended itself to the majority of the constitutional party. It was resisted by the Austrian members, who were supported by the ultramontanes and the democrats, both of whom disliked Prussia, the former because of her Protestantism, the latter because of her bureaucratic system. Herr von Gagern’s proposal was, however, adopted. Immediately afterwards the question as to the character of the executive was raised. Some voted that a directory of princes should be appointed, others that there should be a president, eligible from the whole German nation; but the final decision was that the headship of the state should be offered by the assembly to some particular German prince, and that he should bear the title of emperor of the Germans.

The whole subject was as eagerly discussed throughout the country as in Frankfort. Austria firmly opposed the idea of a united German state, insisting that the Austrian emperor could not consent to be subordinate to any other prince. She was supported by Bavaria, but on the other side were Prussia, Brunswick, Baden, Nassau, Mecklenberg, and various other countries, besides the Hanseatic towns. F or some time Austria offered no counter scheme, but she ultimately proposed that there should be a directory of seven princes, the chief place being held alternately by a Prussian and an Austrian imperial vicar. Nothing came of this suggestion, and in due time the assembly proceeded to the second reading of the constitution. It was revised in a democratic sense, but the imperial title was maintained, and a narrow majority decided that it should be hereditary. Frederick William IV. of Prussia was then chosen emperor.

All Germany awaited with anxiety the reply of Frederick William. It was thought not improbable that he would accept the honour offered him, for in the early part of his reign he had spoken of German unity as enthusiastically as of liberty, and, besides, the opportunity was surprisingly favourable. The larger number of the North-German states were at least not unwilling to submit to the arrangement; and Austria, whose opposition in ordinary circumstances would have been fatal, was paralysed by her struggle with Hungary. Frederick William had not, however, the courage of his opinions; the deputation which waited upon him was dismissed with the answer that he could not assume the imperial title without the full sanction of the princes and the free cities.

This answer was in reality a deathblow to the hopes of German patriots, but the assembly affected to believe that its cause was not yet lost, and appointed a committee to see that the provisions of the constitution were carried out. A vigorous agitation began in the country for the acceptance of the constitution by the Governments. The king of Wurtemberg was forced to accede to it; and in Saxony, Baden, and Rhenish Bavaria armed multitudes kept the sovereigns in terror. Prussia, which, following the example of Austria, had recalled her representatives from Frankfort, sent her troops to put down these risings, and on the 21st May 1849 the larger number of the deputies to the assembly voluntarily resigned their seats. A few republican members held on by it, and transferred the sittings to Stuttgart. Here they even elected an imperial Government, but they had no longer any real influence, and on the 18th June they were forcibly dispersed by the Würtemberg ministry.

Although Frederick William had refused to become emperor, he was unwilling to miss altogether the opportunity afforded by the difficulties of Austria. He invited tho states to send representatives to Berlin to discuss the condition of Germany; and he concluded a treaty with the kings of Saxony and Hanover. Two days afterwards the three allies agreed upon a constitution which was in many respects identical with that drawn up by the Frankfort assembly. The functions of the executive were, however, extended, the electoral law was made less democratic, and it was decided that, instead of an emperor, there should be merely a supreme chief aided by a college of princes. This constitution was accepted by a number of states, which assumed the name of the “The Union,” and on the 20th March 1850 a parliament consisting of two houses met in Erfurt. Both houses accepted the constitution; and, immediately after they broke up, the members of the Union assembled in Berlin, and a provisional college of princes was elected. By that time, however, the whole situation of Germany had changed. In the autumn of 1849 Austria had succeeded, by the help of Russia, in quelling the Hungarian insurrection, and she was then in no mood to let herself be thrust aside by Prussia. Encouraged by her, Hanover and Saxony had severed themselves from the Union, and Saxony, Würtemberg, and Bavaria arrived at an understanding as to a wholly new constitution. Afterwards all four states, with several others, accepted the invitation of Austria to consider the propriety of re-establishing the Confederation. The representatives of the states favourable to this proposal came together in Frankfort on the 4th September 1850, and acted as the restored diet.

Thus the issue to which the events of about a century had been pointing was apparently raised; Germany was divided into two hostile parties, one set of states grouping themselves around Austria, another around Prussia. A difficulty which arose in Hesse-Cassel almost compelled the powers to bring their differences to the test of war. In this small state the liberal movement of 1848 had been followed by reaction, and the elector ventured to replace Hassenpflug, the unpopular minister who had been driven from power. Hassenpflug, being detested by the chamber, dissolved it in June 1850; but the new one was not less hostile, and refused to sanction the collection of the taxes until it had considered the budget. For this offence it also was dissolved, and orders were issued for the raising of the taxes without its consent. Many officials refused to obey; the judges remained loyal to the constitution; and when attempts were made to solve the difficulty by the army, the officers instructed to act resigned in a body. Meanwhile, Hassenpflug had appealed to the representatives in Frankfort who claimed to be the restored diet, and under the influence of Austria they resolved to support him. Prussia, on the other hand, announced its determination to carry out the principles of the Union, and to maintain the Hessian constitution. Austrian and Bavarian troops having entered Hesse, a Prussian army immediately occupied Cassel, and war appeared to be imminent. Prussia, however, shrank from the conflict. Radowitz, the foreign minister, who had so far pursued a vigorous policy, retired, and was replaced by Manteuffel, who, although the whole Prussian army was mobilized, began by making concessions. The Union was dissolved; and after Austria had despatched an ultimatum formulating her demands, the new minister met Prince Schwarzenberg at Olmütz, and virtually yielded everything he insisted upon. The difficulty in Hesse was to be left to the decision of the German Governments; and as soon as possible ministerial conferences were· to be held in Dresden, with a view to the settlement of the German constitution.

These conferences began in the last days of 1850. The Austrian Government strove to secure the appointment of a stronger executive than had hitherto existed; but its proposals met with steady opposition from Prussia. Every Prussian scheme was in like manner resisted by Austria. Thus, from the sheer inability of the assembled ministers to devise a plan on which all could agree, Prussia and the states that had joined her in the Union were compelled to recognize the Frankfort diet. From the 12th June 1851 its sittings went on as if nothing had occurred since it was dispersed.

This wretched fiasco was hardly less satisfactory to the majority of Germans than the manner in which the national claims in Schleswig-Holstein were maintained. The armistice of Malmoe having expired in March 1849, the war with Denmark was resumed. A considerable army was despatched against the Danes by the Frankfort Government, but on the 10th July an armistice was signed at Berlin for six months, and a year afterwards Prussia concluded peace. The inhabitants of the duchies, however, continued the war. During the interview at Olmütz between Count Manteuffel and Prince Schwarzenberg it was agreed that, like the affairs of Hesse-Cassel, those of Schleswig-Holstein should be submitted to the decision of all German states, but that, in the meantime, Prussia and Austria should act together. By the intervention of Austrian troops peace was restored; and when, early in 1852, the Government of Denmark, in providing a constitution for the whole monarchy, promised to appoint separate ministers for Schleswig and Holstein, and to do equal justice to the German and the Danish populations, the two powers declared themselves satisfied, and the Austrian forces were withdrawn. The diet also, after some delay, professed to be content with this arrangement. While it was discussing the subject, a conference of the European powers met in London, and settled that Frederick VII. of Denmark should be succeeded by Christian, duke of Glücksburg, and that the duchies should be indissolubly united to the Danish monarchy. Austria and Prussia accepted the protocol setting forth these results, but it was not signed by the diet.

In all these later events the first place had been taken by Austria. The temporary dissolution of the customs union in 1851 gave her an opportunity of trying to extend her influence; she demanded that a union " should be formed of which she should be the leading member. A congress of all German states, with the exception of Prussia and one or two states which sympathized with her, -was held in Vienna; and it was followed by several other congresses favourable to Austrian pretensions. Prussia, however, being here on strong ground, refused to give way; and not only was the customs union restored in accordance with her wishes, but Austria concluded with her in 1853 a treaty of commerce which embodied some important concessions.

Germany had now fairly entered a period which, although it did not last very long, was, in some respects, as humiliating as any in her history. The popular movement, from which great things had been hoped, had on some occasions almost touched its goal; and, as might have been expected, a reaction set in, which the princes knew how to turn to the fullest advantage. The Austrian Government, after the subjection of Hungary, withdrew every concession it had made under pressure, and established a thorough despotism, trampling upon the rights of the individual nationalities, and forcing all its subjects into a common political mould. In Prussia the parliament, summoned by the king on the 5th December 1848, met early in the following year. Although the democrats had declined to vote, it was not conservative enough for the court, and not till the 31st January 1850 was an understanding arrived at respecting the constitution. The system thus established was repeatedly revised, and always with the same object— to reduce to a minimum the power of the national representatives, and to exalt and extend that of the Government.

At the same time the ministry persecuted the press, and allowed hardly a whisper of discontent to pass unpunished. The smaller states followed with alacrity in the steps of the two leading powers. The liberal ministries of 1848 were dismissed, the constitutions were changed or abolished, and new chambers were elected under a severely restricted suffrage. Had the battle been fairly fought out between the Governments and the people, the latter would still have triumphed; but the former had now, in the Frankfort diet, a mightier instrument than ever against freedom. What it could do was seen too clearly from the case of Hesse-Cassel. After the settlement of Olmütz, federal troops occupied that country, and federal execution was carried out with shameful harshness. Martial law was everywhere proclaimed; officers, and all classes of officials who had incurred the displeasure of the Government, were subjected to arbitrary penalties; and such was the misery of the people that multitudes of them were compelled to emigrate. The constitution having been destroyed by the bund, the elector proclaimed one of his own making; but even the chamber elected under the provisions of this despotic scheme could not tolerate his hateful tyranny, and there were incessant disputes between it and the Government. The bund interfered in a like spirit in Hanover, although with less disastrous results, after the accession of George V. in 1851. For the whole of Germany this was emphatically the period of petty despotism; and not only from Hesse but from all parts of the country there was a vast stream of emigration, mainly to the New World.

The outbreak of the Crimean war profoundly moved the German nation. The sympathies of Austria were necessarily with the Western powers, and in Prussia the majority of the people took the same side; but the Prussian Government, which was at this time completely under the control of Russia, gave its moral support to the czar. It did, indeed, assent to a treaty—afterwards signed on behalf of the bund—by which Prussia and Austria guaranteed each other, but it resolutely opposed the mobilization of the confederate army. The Prussian people were keenly irritated by the cordial relations between their court and the most despotic power in Europe. They felt that they were thus most unjustly separated from the main stream of Western progress.

During the Crimean war the political reaction continued with unabated force. In Prussia the Government appeared resolved to make up for its temporary submission to the popular will by the utmost violence on which it could venture. A general election took place in the autumn of 1855, and so harshly was the expression of opinion restrained that a chamber was returned with scarcely a single liberal element of serious importance. The feudalists called for a still further revision of the constitution, and urged that even the reforms effected by Stein should be undone. In Bavaria a chamber elected about the same time as that of Prussia was rather less docile; but the Government shared to the full the absolutist tendencies of the day, and energetically combated the party which stood up for law and the constitution. The Hanoverian government, backed by the Frankfort diet, was still more successful in its warfare with the moderate reformers whom it was pleased to treat as revolutionists; and in Austria the feudalists so completely gained the upper hand that on the 18th August 1855 the Government signed a concordat, by which the state virtually submitted itself to the control of the church.

The German people seemed to have lost both the power and the will to assert their rights; but in reality they were deeply dissatisfied. And it was clear to impartial observers that, in the event of any great strain upon the power of the Governments, the absolutist system would break down. The first symptom that the reaction had attained its utmost development displayed itself in Prussia, whose attention was for a time distracted from home politics by a quarrel with Switzerland. The Swiss authorities had imprisoned some foolish royalists of Neuchâtel, in which the house of Hohenzollern had never resigned its rights. War was threatened by Prussia, but when the prisoners were set free, the two states entered upon negotiations, and in the summer of 1857 King Frederick William withdrew all claims to the principality. Soon after this, the mental condition of the king made it necessary that his duties should be undertaken by a substitute, and his brother, the Prince of Prussia, took his place for three months. In October 1858 the prince became regent; and as he was unfavourable to the policy which had hitherto been pursued, he appointed a new ministry of a moderately liberal character. A general election was ordered; and, the free action of the constituencies being in no way interfered with, they returned a parliament in which the feudalists held the place that had belonged to the liberals in the previous chamber. No more thorough proof could have been given of the liberal sentiments of the population, and the effect was soon seen in the growing hopefulness of the liberal party in every German state.

The Italian war of 1859, in which Austria found herself opposed by France and Sardinia, excited vehement interest in Germany. A section of the liberal party would have been pleased had Prussia taken the occasion to reconstitute the confederation by excluding Austria; but Prussia was so far from attempting this that she put herself in a state of readiness for war with France. After the battle of Magenta she mobilized part of her army, and gave her assent to the placing of confederate troops on the upper Rhine. These measures induced the emperor Napoleon to conclude a hasty peace; but Austria was bitterly offended because she had not received the open support both of the bund and of Prussia.

The misfortunes of Austria in this war brought to light the instability of the absolutist system which had been maintained since the crushing of the revolution of 1848. The army had fought without enthusiasm, and after the restoration of peace voices were everywhere raised for reform. Petty concessions were at first attempted, but in December 1860 the emperor changed his ministers, promising that the constitutions of the various provinces should be revised, and that a Reichsrath, with the right of initiating legislation, should be freely elected by the provincial diets. Although this arrangement was far from pacifying the populations, it was a great advance on any previous proposal, and stirred the hope of still larger concessions.

Another result of the Italian war, of far greater importance for the general progress of Germany, was the revival of the old desire for national unity. The Germans could not persuade themselves that that which the Italians had attained was unattainable by them; and they believed that, if they acquired the same measure of unity, there would soon be an end of despotism. After the war, a number of leading politicians, having held repeated conferences, founded what they called the National Union, an organization intended to promote the national cause; and it had a profound effect in maintaining and stimulating public interest in its object. The Governments, seeing the strength of the movement, sought to give it a direction suitable to their own interests. Prussia and Austria entered into negotiations, but failed to arrive at an understanding. The Saxon minister, Baron Beust, then came forward with a proposal, whose aim was to play off the two great states against one another, and to enable the smaller states to hold the balance. Austria was not unwilling to be persuaded: but Prussia would have nothing to say to a scheme which would have effected a change without improving her position. In 1863 the emperor Francis Joseph invited the German princes to a congress in Frankfort, for the purpose of settling the question. A settlement proposed by him was unlikely to be acceptable to Prussia; and she held aloof. When the Austrian emperor’s plan was unfolded, its aim, as every one expected, was seen to be the confirming of his own authority. It was, therefore, with equal decision, rejected by the Prussian Government and by the German liberals.

Meanwhile, changes had taken place in Prussia which were destined to lead to a solution of the long-discussed problem, as complete as it was unexpected. On the death of Frederick William IV. on the 2d January 1861, the prince regent assumed the crown of Prussia as William I. Within ten years Germany was united, and this amiable king was proclaimed emperor.

This result was the issue of a vast series of historical causes; but it is indissolubly associated with the name of King William’s great minister, Bismarck, who was made Prussian premier in 1862. No more remarkable figure has arisen in the history of Germany. Before he became prime minister he had acted as Prussian plenipotentiary at the confederate diet, and as Prussian ambassador in Paris and St Petersburg; he was, therefore, familiar with the conflicting political currents of the time. When raised to the highest post in the state under the crown, he soon formed the fixed resolution of adding to the power of Prussia, and placing her at the head of united Germany. Having something of Cromwell’s superstition as well as Cromwell’s strength, he apparently regarded this as a sort of religious mission; and in many respects he could hardly have been better adapted to the task. A rough, despotic, vehement nature, he was undeterred by scruples which might harass ordinary statesmen; having set up a goal, he marched to it by the straightest path. The solemn traditions of diplomacy, to the astonishment of Europe, he laughed out of court. He respected treaties exactly in so far as they were capable of being defended, and produced by boisterous frankness the effects which other men achieve by mystery and deceit. With little faith in the action of moral causes, he took care to have behind him those big battalions which destiny is said unduly to favour. Prussia at once recognized that she had in him a statesman of commanding type,—a bold and resolute spirit, with narrow but intense vision, and a will created to go crashing through difficulties, and to fashion a world to its liking.

When Bismarck was made premier the Government was engaged in a hot dispute with the representative chamber. The latter refused to sanction a great scheme of military reform, and the ministry was compelled, in direct opposition to the constitution, to trust to the upper house for supplies. Bismarck carried on the contest with cynical audacity; and he was in no way shaken when the country, over and over again, proved that its sympathies were with his opponents. The military reforms were executed, and the nation was tolerably plainly told that its approval was of secondary importance.

An opportunity for stirring up the chaotic elements from which the Prussian premier proposed to evolve a cosmos of his own was soon afforded by the revival of that most complicated of “questions,” the question of Schleswig-Holstein. Ever since the settlement of 1852 it had from time to time engaged attention. The tendency of Danish policy, according to the Germans, was to subject Holstein and Schleswig to wholly different treatment, and, in the application of the general constitution of the kingdom, to pay insufficient respect to the rights of Holstein as a member of the German confederation. Soon after the duke of Glücksburg, in accordance with the London protocol, mounted the Danish throne (1863), federal troops were despatched to the duchies, nominally to secure that the new king should fulfil his predecessor’s engagements. In reality, however, their presence gave rise to demonstrations among the German population in favour of Prince Frederick of Augustenburg, who, although his father had renounced his rights, claimed to be the true duke of Holstein. Prussia and Austria, having signed the London protocol, professed to disapprove his pretensions, and towards the end of 1863 proposed in the diet that they should be empowered to occupy Schleswig, so that justice might be done both to the Danish king and to the duchies. Tlιe proposal was rejected, and had Austria been acting alone, there is no reason to believe that she would have pushed her demands farther, if indeed she would ever have advanced so far. But Prussian policy was determined by a statesman who had vast ulterior ends to serve; and by his influence Austria was induced to join Prussia in declaring that, since the bund would not follow their counsel, they were forced to act independently. In the war which followed the Danes distinguished themselves by their courage and military skill; but they could not very long contend single-handed with two such enemies, and on the 1st August 1864 a treaty was signed in Vienna, by which Denmark ceded to the conquerors Schleswig, Holstein, and Lauenburg. All Europe disapproved these harsh conditions; but the Prussian minister did not trouble himself about disapproval which found utterance only in words.

Before the outbreak of war, Prussia had been engaged in a serious dispute with Austria. In 1862, in the name of the customs union, the former power had concluded with France a treaty of commerce, based mainly on the principles of free trade. Most of the small states, strongly objecting to the treaty, refused to sign it; and they were supported by Austria, which had never given up the hope of taking precedence of Prussia in the commercial as well as the political relations of Germany. She∙protested against the treaty, and demanded admission into the customs union. Prussia maintained her original position, insisting that if the treaty with France were rejected she would regard the union as no longer existing. After the war Bismarck not only succeeded in obtaining the signatures of the small states, but induced Austria to conclude a commercial treaty, essentially the same as that of 1853; and about the same time treaties were signed, owing to his exertions, between the union and England and Belgium. These triumphs unmistakably indicated the rising influence of Prussia.

It was not long before grave difficulties sprang from the results of the Schleswig-Holstein war. Prussia was of opinion that there was no longer any need for the troops of the bund in Holstein; and although this view was hotly contested, the diet was compelled in the end to act upon it. Still more important was the question, what should now be done with the duchies. Austria favoured the claims of the prince of Augustenburg; and the bund by a small majority decided to request the two powers to invest him with the sovereignty of Holstein. Prussia protested that the matter was beyond the competence of the diet. What she herself intended was plainly shown by the fact that the Prussian war minister explained in the Prussian parliament, in connexion with a special demand for money, that it was to be devoted to the erection of a harbour at Kiel. Austria, which had the same right as Prussia to Kiel, refused her assent to this proposal; and an interchange of angry despatches took place, which made it highly probable that the spoilers of Denmark would soon be at each other’s throats. War was for a time prevented by the Gastein convention, by which Austria handed over Lauenburg to Prussia, and it was agreed that the former state should in the meantime administer Holstein, the latter Schleswig.

Count Bismarck did not intend that the Gastein convention should seriously interrupt the development of his policy. He had made up his mind to force a quarrel on Austria, and to settle once for all the question, first raised by Frederick the Great, whether she or Prussia should prevail in Germany. The opportunity was so favourable that the like might never again offer itself. Although the Government and the parliament of Prussia were still engaged in a struggle which called forth much indignation on both sides, the mass of the population was thoroughly loyal; and, as events proved, the army had been reorganized with splendid skill. Never, perhaps, in the history of the world, were there better fighters than the Prussian soldiersof that day; and they were led by officers full of patriotic ardour, with almost unlimited influence over their men, and trained in the best schools of military science. In the Austrian empire, notwithstanding the reforms recently instituted, discontent was still almost universal. The Hungarians sullenly demanded independence, and among the Slavonic populations there were also dangerous agitations for local self-government. Although the army was composed of magnificent material, it was far behind that of Prussia in the mode of its administration, and grave doubts were entertained whether confidence could be placed in its loyalty. In these circumstances, no one familiar with the facts could hesitate as to the side on which victory would declare itself in the event of war, and to Count Bismarck the facts were intimately known. With well-considered boldness he advanced rapidly to his aim. The Austrian governor of Holstein encouraged, as he had a perfect right to do, the pretensions of the prince of Augustenburg. In January 1866 Count Bismarck made this the subject of a bitter despatch to the Vienna Government; and Count Meusdorf, the Austrian foreign minister, replied in the same tone. Both powers now began to make active preparations for the worst. The majority of the small states sided with Austria; but Prussia found means of more than counterbalancing this advantage. Now that Italy was partially united, the Italians felt humiliated at Venetia remaining in the hands of Austria. Count Bismarck offered, if she would conclude an alliance with Prussia against their common enemy, to obtain for her this magnificent prize. The Italian Government saw that it could never have a better chance, and signed the proposed treaty.

The occasion for which Count Bismarck waited presented itself when the Austrian governor of Holstein summoned the assembly of the states. Holstein was at once occupied by Prussian troops, and those of Austria were driven from the duchy. The Austrian Government indignantlyprotested against this outrage; and on the 14th June 1866 its proposal that the forces of the bund should be mobilized against Prussia was adopted by a majority of the diet. The Prussian plenipotentiary withdrew after submitting a scheme for the reconstitution of Germany; and the war immediately began. Its events followed each other with startling rapidity. Within a fortnight Prussia had in her grasp Hanover, Hesse-Cassel, and Saxony; and on the 3d July was fought the great battle of Königgrätz, which laid her chief enemy at her feet. The power of Austria was shattered by the swift and mighty blows directed against it; and on the 26th July she was glad to accept the preliminaries of Nicolsburg, which were soon afterwards followed by the peace of Prague.

The result of this war was the final exclusion of Austria from Germany. Prussia annexed Hanover, Hesse-Cassel, Nassau, Frankfort, and Schleswig-Holstein. By the fifth clause of the treaty of Prague, indeed, the inhabitants of the northern districts of Schleswig were to be reunited to Denmark, if, when freely consulted, they expressed a wish for this result; but the engagement, which was never seriously intended, was abrogated by secret treaty between Austria aud Germany on tlιe 11 th October 1878. AU states to the north of the Main, including the northern half of Hesse-Darmstadt, were compelled to form a North-German confederation under the leadership of Prussia. The four South-German states, Baden, Hesse-Darmstadt, Würtemberg, and Bavaria, were left independent, but with the right, if they chose, to form a South-German confederation and to unite with that of North Germany. By secret treaties, as Count Bismarck announced at a critical moment soon afterwards, they undertook to place their armies at the disposal of Prussia in time of war.

King William, who had accompanied his troops, returned in triumph to Berlin, and the nation was so elated by his victories that the newly-elected house of representatives willingly consented to forget past disputes. On the 24th February 1867 the constituent diet of the confederation, elected by universal suffrage and the ballot, met in Berlin, and soon accepted in its essential features the constitution submitted to it. It was arranged that the headship of the confederation should be hereditary, that it should belong to the king of Prussia, and that legislative functions should be exercised by a federal council, representative of the various Governments, and by a diet elected by the whole people.

The confederate parliament began at once the task of consolidating the new institutions. In the sessions of 1869 and 1870 it established a supreme tribunal of commerce, sitting in Leipsic, and passed a new penal code. Great as were these results, they did not satisfy the aspirations of patriotic Germans, who, having so suddenly and so unexpectedly approached unity, longed that the work should be completed. A party called the “national liberals” was formed, whose main object was to secure the incorporation of south with north Germany, and it at once entered into peculiar relations with the great minister at the head of the country. The members of this party, believing, as sincere liberals, that the German people were ripe for free institutions, desired from the outset to give larger power to the popular element of the constitution both in Prussia and in Germany. With these ideas Prince Bismarck had no sympathy. Throughout his career he has consistently manifested contempt for parliamentary forms of government. He cannot tolerate that a minister should be thwarted or hindered by political critics, and fancies that the community would be much better off if it allowed itself to be directly governed by the statesmen who are good enough to devote themselves to its service. But his achievements in the cause of German unity have more than counterbalanced, in the esteem of the liberals, his dislike of national freedom.

An important step towards complete unity was supposed to be taken in 1867, by the conclusion of a treaty with the southern states, by which it was agreed that all questions of customs should be decided by the federal council and the federal diet, and that, for the consideration of such questions, the southern states should send representatives to Berlin. In reality, however, the customs parliament was of no service beyond the strict limits of its special activity. The mass of the South Germans were bitterly opposed to the idea of union with the north. The democrats detested Prussia more than any other country, and looked upon Count Bismarck as the incarnation of all that was most objectionable in its aristocratic and military system of government. Among the ultramontanes there was a not less vehement dislike of a nation which continually boasted that it was the headquarters of Protestantism and free thought. Hence, in the election to the customs parliament in 1868, Würtemberg did not return a single deputy who was ’ favourable to the national cause; in Bavaria the antinationalists had a large majority; and even in Baden and Hesse-Darmstadt, where the opposition to Prussia was less severe, a powerful minority of the deputies had no liking for the Prussian premier. Thus the customs parliament was kept rigidly to the objects for which it was founded, greatly to the disappointment of patriots who had not doubted that it would become an effective instrument for the attainment of far larger purposes. Even in regard to the army, notwithstanding the secret treaties giving Prussia the command of the southern forces in the event of war, a spirit of bitter opposition to the northern confédération was manifested. Baden and Hesse-Darmstadt reorganized their armies in accordance with the Prussian system, but Bavaria and Würtemberg were more obstinate, and in both countries there was an agitation for military arrangements by which the secret treaties should be virtually annulled.

Had the completion of unity depended wholly on internal causes, it certainly would not have been soon achieved; but other forces, not altogether unexpectedly, came to Count Bismarck’s aid. France had been irritated by the enormous increase of Prussian power, and even before the treaty of Prague was signed the emperor Napoleon III. indicated a wish to be “compensated” with the left bank of the Rhine. Not being in a position to make war, he was compelled to suppress this desire. Soon afterwards he proposed a secret arrangement by which Belgium was to fall to France, while Prussia was to have free scope elsewhere. Finding that if not decisively rejected his plan was at least not accepted, Napoleon next sought to restore the balance by concluding a treaty with the king of Holland, in 1867, for the purchase of Luxembourg. Prussia protested; and it was on this occasion that Count Bismarck first made public the secret treaties with the South-German states. War appeared almost inevitable, but the emperor, being still uncertain as to the state of his forces, allowed the question to be settled by a conference, which declared Luxembourg a neutral state, its neutrality being guaranteed by the great powers.

The idea of a war with Prussia was not given up by Napoleon. Whether he felt the necessity of strengthening the claims of his dynasty by military glory, or whether, as many Germans believe, he was urged forward by a powerful ultramontane intrigue, he seems to have resolved in 1870 to undertake the long-delayed struggle. A pretext was found in a proposal of the Spaniards to raise to their throne Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern. There is no evidence that the French people were in the least disturbed by this scheme; certainly, if they had been left to their own free judgment, they would never have thought of going to war about it. But the imperial ministry, managing to get up a little artificial excitement among a noisy section of the Parisians, angrily protested; and Prince Leopold announced that he would not accept the Spanish crown. Stimulated by this diplomatic triumph, the emperor next required that Prussia should give a general engagement that no Hohenzollern prince should in future become king of Spain. Prussia declined to humble herself so far, whereupon, on the 19th July 1870, France declared war against her. A telegram from Ems, falsely stating that the French ambassador had been publicly insulted by KingWilliam, caused considerable sensation in France; and enemies of Bismarck often assert that he caused it to be despatched for the purpose of making war unavoidable. Although this is a mere assertion, he was not unwilling to accept the challenge, coming as it did in a manner that would have rendered any shrinking from it disgraceful. He believed that, whatever policy she adopted, Prussia would one day have to defend her conquests; and he could not but foresee the enormous advantages which would spring from a triumphant war with France.

Napoleon, as we now know, had reason to suppose that he might trust to the aid of Austria and Italy, and his diplomatic agents in South Germany had left no doubt in his mind that the South Germans would hail his approach as that of a deliverer. He was cruelly undeceived. After his first reverses, Italy and Austria resolved to hold aloof; and the South Germans did not for an instant hesitate; they loyally kept their engagements with Prussia. The French emperor did not realize how bitter, in South as well as in North Germany, were the memories of the sufferings caused by his uncle. However energetically the various states might fight among themselves, in the presence of “the hereditary enemy” their disputes were forgotten; they remembered only their common origin and their common speech. There is no parallel in German history to the enthusiasm called forth by the French declaration of war. Its absolute universality was a new phenomenon, and its intensity probably could not be surpassed.

The course of the war went far beyond the expectations of the most sanguine patriots. In battle after battle the armies of France were smitten to the ground; her strong places, one after another, delivered themselves to the enemy; and her brave sons were sent by hundreds of thousands as prisoners to Germany. At last, on the 1st September, after the disastrous battle of Sedan, the emperor yielded his sword to the Prussian king.

It was the opinion of many impartial observers that the war ought now to have stopped, and there were Germans who had the courage to express this conviction. But the nation as a whole wished to see France thoroughly humbled, and applauded the advance on Paris. In vain M. Gambetta sought to infuse into his countrymen his own impulsive and vigorous spirit; they did what they could, but the German armies were irresistible. On the 28th January 1871 Paris surrendered, and on the 10th May the peace of Frankfort was signed. By this treaty France engaged to pay the enormous indemnity of five milliards of francs, and to restore to Germany Alsace and the German portion of Lorraine.

Amid the glowing pride of the Germans in the unsurpassed achievements of their armies the difficulties which had hitherto prevented complete unity seemed altogether to vanish. In the autumn of 1870 negotiations were opened between the southern Governments and the northern confederation; and in the course of November treaties were signed by which the North-German confederation became the German confederation. Bavaria insisted upon some highly important reservations, such as the maintenance of her own diplomacy, of her postal, telegraph, and railway systems, of her military administration, and of certain valuable taxes. Baden, Hesse-Darmstadt, and Würtemberg also maintained special rights. But all this was thought of comparatively little moment; and the treaties were readily sanctioned both by the confederate parliament and by the southern parliaments. Thus Germany became a united state. The king of Bavaria then proposed to the other German sovereigns and to the free cities that the head of the confederation should be declared emperor. The suggestion was approved; and on the 18th January 1871, in the Hall of Mirrors in the palace of Versailles, the king of Prussia was proclaimed, in presence of a brilliant assembly. of German princes and officers, emperor in Germany.

On the 21st of March 1871 the first diet of the empire met in Berlin. The constitution of the northern confederation was extended so as to be applicable to the changed circumstances of Germany, but no alteration was made in its essential character.

Since the conclusion of the treaty of Frankfort Germany has been at peace, but as she believes that the French may one day seek to regain their lost provinces and to avenge their recent humiliations, she has maintained the vast military system to which her victories have been due. The main object of Prince Bismarck’s foreign policy appears to have been to isolate France. While not unfriendly to England, he has assiduously cultivated the friendship of Austria and of Russia. In 1872 the czar and the Austrian emperor visited Berlin, and during their stay the three emperors concluded an alliance, the exact limits and conditions of which are not known. Soon afterwards Victor Emmanuel, the Italian king, also visited the German capital, and the emperor William went for a short time to Italy, where he was received with manifestations of hearty friendship. It is understood that after the reopening of the Eastern question in 1875 Prince Bismarck made repeated attempts tQ enter into close relations with England; but in his public acts, both before and after the signing of the treaty of Berlin in 1878, he mainly supported Russia. He also encouraged Austria to extend her influence in the east by occupying Bosnia.

In her home politics the attention of Germany was for some years mainly occupied with a great struggle between the state and the church in Prussia. After the close of the Franco-German war—in the course of which the dogma of papal infallibility was proclaimed—Prince Bismarck persuaded himself that the empire was imperilled by ultramontane intrigues; and with his usual promptitude he took vigorous precautions against his supposed enemies. He began in 1872 witlι the expulsion of the Jesuits. This was followed in 1873 by tne famous May Laws, introduced by Dr Falk, the energetic minister of public worship. By these laws it was required tnat candidates for the clerical office should undergo a certain amount of secular training at the universities, and that every ecclesiastical appointment should receive the sanction of the secular authorities. A royal tribunal for ecclesiastical matters was also set up. This legislation, which the pope denounced as invalid, was disregarded by the Catholic bishops; and Prince Bismarck, supported by Dr Falk, imposed penalty after penalty in order to establish the supremacy of the state. Refractory bishops were imprisoned, deposed, and banished; the contributions of the Government were withdrawn from the clergy who incurred its displeasure; religious orders were dissolved; the administration of church property was taken from the clergy and invested in bodies of laymen. It may be that these stern measures were rendered necessary by facts of which the world is insufficiently informed; but they have alienated from Prince Bismarck, and from the empire founded by him, the sympathies of the vast majority of the German Catholics.

The period which has followed the war with France has been remarkable, not only for the ecclesiastical struggle in Prussia, but for the rapid growth of socialism throughout the empire. Socialism first became a power in Germany through the labours of the ardent scholar and publicist, Ferdinand Lassalle. He began his brief and noisy public career by addressing large audiences of workmen in Berlin and Leipsic in 1862, and in less than two years he had formed a party which regarded him with boundless reverence and admiration. He himself was a man of fortune, with luxurious habits; but he had in an unusually intense degree the desire, shared by all truly modern men, for the elevation of the depressed and suffering masses. The theory of which he had convinced himself was that, with existing social relations, workmen as a class can never improve their position; that their sole chance is to form productive associations which shall enable them to secure the whole benefit of their labour; and that it is the duty of the state to provide such associations with capital, to see that justice is done to their members, and to regulate the markets of the world. After the death of Lassalle, this theory became a sort of evangel among his followers; but many of them stated it in violent terms, and openly aimed at the equal division of property, if possible by peaceful agitation, if necessary by revolution. At the time of the formation of the party Herr von Bismarck was engaged in his struggle with the liberals in the Prussian parliament, and he did not scruple to damage his opponents by encouraging Lassalle, who detested them more vehemently than did the premier himself. Soon after the war with France the condition of the country was in the highest degree favourable to the progress of the movement. . Intoxicated by the national triumphs, and having a vague impression that the French indemnity must be an inexhaustible source of wealth, many of the German middle class indulged in wild speculation, and contracted habits of reckless expenditure. At the same time the resources of the nation were drained by the most costly military system the world has ever seen. The inevitable result was that in a short time trade was depressed beyond all recent experience; wages fell, and large numbers of workmen were deprived of employment. Socialism found its opportunity; multitudes of the sufferers eagerly listened to instructors who depicted for them a brilliant future that might be easily attained. In England no considerable body of men has ever been deeply impressed by socialist schemes; but in Germany the conditions of political life are altogether different. There the Government is the greatest of all powers. At every stage of a man’s life it makes itself felt; it creates around the community a sort of political atmosphere from which there is no escape, in which every one moves and breathes. Thus to an uninstructed German there seems to be hardly any limit to the feats of which the state is capable. It professes to be so nearly omnipotent that he appears to himself to be within his right in asking it to make all poor men suddenly rich.

At each successive general election the numbers of socialist deputies to the imperial parliament increased; and in 1877 it was calculated that, although only twelve members of the party were returned, about a tenth of the entire body of voters were socialists. Some alarm was excited by these facts, but no one thought of putting down the movement by force until one day in May 1878 a shot was fired at the aged emperor in Berlin, as he drove along the Unter den Linden with his daughter, the grand-duchess of Baden, by his side. The criminal, a youth named Hödel, boasted of his socialist opinions and aims. A wave of anger swept over the nation; and the reactionary party, fancying it had an opportunity of laying a rough hand on far more than socialism, succeeded in inducing the imperial Government to draw up without delay a severe measure, directed nominally against the socialists, but in reality against all politicians obnoxious to the conservatives. The bill was hurried through the federal council and submitted to the diet. By that time the majority of the liberals had recovered their self-control; and with the aid of the centre party they threw out the proposed scheme by an immense majority. Parliament was prorogued, and it was uncertain whether there would be any further attempt at repression.

Suddenly the announcement came that the emperor had again been shot at, and that this time he had been wounded. For some days Germany was convulsed with rage and horror, and on all sides the cry was raised that now at last socialism must be sternly dealt with. Taking courage, the Government dissolved parliament, and pressure of every kind was put upon the electors to secure a thoroughly reactionary diet. The country, however, reflected that, although it was necessary to protect society, it might not be necessary to sacrifice the liberties which it had with so much difficulty conquered. Accordingly, when the new parliament assembled in August 1878, it was found that the liberals had not sustained very serious losses. The progressists bitterly opposed the measure introduced by the Government; but by some means Prince Bismarck managed, as he had often done before, to overcome the objections of the national liberals. By their support a law was passed which gave the police of the empire, for two years and a half, enormous special powers. These powers were at once rigidly enforced; and socialism appeared to vanish from the land. Whether, however, it may not spring up in some great national crisis, all the stronger for the sufferings of its adherents, is a point that can be determined only when some great national crisis occurs.

The socialists and the ultramontanes, without having anything else in common, have joined in opposition to measures for promoting the national unity. They have been aided by the Polish deputies, by the members for Alsace and Lorraine, and by the so-called particularists, conservative politicians ardently attached to the ancient customs and rights of the individual states. Notwithstanding this formidable band of allies, considerable progress has been made in the task of transforming a loose confederation of countries into a true nation. Between 1872 and 1875 utter anarchy in important departments of life was brought to an end by laws relating to imperial coinage, imperial paper money, and the system of banking. And in 1877 thorough investigation resulted in the appointment of a supreme imperial tribunal (Reichsgericht). It was proposed that this tribunal should sit in Berlin; but many liberals having no desire that that city should assume in Germany the place which belongs in France to Paris, a large majority decided for Leipsic. This was taken as a hint that, while Germany wishes to be united, she will not voluntarily see herself transformed into a magnified Prussia.

In spite of their military strength, their victories, and the establishment of their empire, the Germans are not, politically, a contented people; and the reason is that they have outgrown their institutions. While a statesman of extraordinary genius and authority stands in the way, a progressive system maybe impossible; but the more intelligent classes have never lost the desire to add to the hardly-earned national unity the crowning triumph of unfettered representative government.

Bibliography.—Luden, Die Geschichte des deutschen Volks.·, Leo, Vorlesungen uber die Geschichte des deutschen Volks und Reichs ·, Giesebrecht, Geschichte der deutschen Kaiserzeit·, Waitz, Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte·, Mayer, Deutsche Geschichte·, Souchay, Geschichte der deutschen Monarchie·. Sugenheim, Geschichte des deutschen Volks und seiner Cultur. (J∙ SI.)

PART HL—LANGUAGE.

In its ordinary sense the name German Language or Deutsche Sprache is now generally used to denote, in all their stages from the earliest time to the present day, the different languages and dialects of Teutonic origin spoken in the German and Austrian empires and in Switzerland, not including, however, the Frisian language, which once was spoken, and still in a few remnants survives, on the shores and islands of the German Ocean, nor the dialects of the Danish population of nortnern Schleswig. Flemish and Dutch, although very closely connected with German, are likewise excluded. But the word Deutsch has also been, and still continues to be, used in a wider sense. Jacob Grimm introduced it, in his famous Deutsche Grammatik, as a comprehensive name for that family of the so-called Indo-European or Aryan languages, for which English writers generally use the name of “Teutonic,” and of which the principal branches are represented by Gothic, the Scandinavian languages, English, Frisian, and German. In this Grimm has had many followers, but scarcely anywhere out of Germany; and even there the fact that the name, in this application, besides being incorrect from an historical point of view (as the word has never been used thus by any one of the people to whom it has been applied by Grimm), is also liable to be misunderstood, has caused a growing tendency towards confining it again to its original meaning described above, and using Germanisch, or Germanic, in the collective sense of the English “Teutonic.” But even in the stricter sense the designation Deutsch is not of very long standing, nor has the word always been a real proper name for a distinct people or tribe. In Bishop Ulfilas’s Gothic version of the Bible we find the adverb thiudisko (eθvικω<s), Gal. ii. 14, which is clearly a derivative from thiuda (fθvο<i), meaning primarily “after the manner of the people.” German writers of tbe earlier centuries were therefore as fully justified in calling their own language diutisc, or, in a Latinized form, theudiscus, theοtiscus, that is, their popular or vernacular language, as were those mediaeval Latin writers of all nations who distinguished their national languages by the name of lingua vulgaris irom. Latin, the only literary language fully acknowledged in their time. It was not until the I Oth century that another Latinized form frequently used in later times, viz., teutonicus, began to be used instead of the older theοtiscus, of which the only rivals in former times had been such local names as frαnciscus (frenkisc} or saxoηi-cus, which were no doubt derived from the names of single tribes, but were often also used in the same comprehensive sense as theotiscus, without necessarily implying any allusion to dialectal differences between the languages of the tribes they properly belonged to. The last name we have to mention here is the Latin Germanus, with its different derivatives in the modern languages, including the English form German. Many attempts have been made to elucidate the origin of this word, but as yet nothing can be taken for certain beyond the fact that it is neither of Latin nor of German origin. Most probably it was a Celtic word, and, according to what Tacitus says in his Germania (ch. ii.), it was originally the name of a Celtic tribe, from which, by some strange error of the Roman and Greek historians, it has been transferred to the non-Celtic inhabitants of Germany. Accordingly the name has never been used by the Germans themselves except in imitation of its use in the works of Latin writers.

As to its geographical extension the German language has undergone very great changes in the course of the last two thousand years. At the dawn of history no Germans were to be found to the left of the Rhine, and even to the right of it Celtic tribes occur in the earliest times. There were Celts also in the south of the present Germany as far north at least as the Danube and the Main; Bohemia, too, derives its name from an early Celtic population, the Boii. Only the midland and north were inhabited by Germanic nations or tribes, stretching as far east as Poland, and perhaps covering even parts of the adjoining territories of Russia, where Slavonic and. Finnish tribes were their neighbours. But of these Germanic tribes and their languages some have left no equivalents in our modern German tribes and dialects. We have mentioned the Frisian language as not belonging to German in its proper sense, although the Frisians have kept their original residence up to the present day, and have always been in constant connexion and frequent intercourse with their “German” neighbours. Many other tribes have wandered from their seats and colonized other countries. It was as late as the middle of the 5th century that the Jutes, Angles, and Saxons began their voyages of conquest to England, where they founded a new people and a new language, leaving their native soil open to Danish invasions. Much earlier the midland tribes had already been slowly pushing on to the west and south, and expelling or subduing and assimilating the Celtic owners of the territories they invaded. But what was gained in these parts was counterbalanced by great losses in the north and east. The territories about the lower and middle Elbe, Oder, and Vistula, abandoned by the Lombards, the Burgundians, the Goths, and some other Germanic tribes, as well as Bohemia, which for some short time had been in the possession of the German Marcomans, were soon filled up by the immigration of numerous tribes of the great Slavonic family. Without going into details of the facts which are well known to the student of history, we may simply state that, since about 500 a.d., when the great migration of the nations had come to an end so far as Germany was concerned, no further change of any great importance has taken place in the western and southern parts. In the east the German population at this time did not go beyond a line that may be drawn from about Kiel to the Böhmerwald, passing near Hamburg, Magdeburg, ^Naumburg, Coburg, and Baireuth. As is well known, it is in later centuries that almost all the eastern districts have been recovered for the German language.

In the 6th century the remains of the numerous smaller Germanic tribes, mentioned before and during the migration of the nations, had consolidated into seven larger bodies or aggregations of tribes. The Frisians still held the extreme north of Holland and Germany. Their midland and eastern neighbours were then called by the new name of Saxons, borrowed from the Saxons who had left the Continent for England. In the main parts of the Netherlands and Belgium, along both sides of the Rhine, and across Germany to the Thuringian and Bohemian Forests, the powerful Frankish confederation had established itself, and it soon incorporated the smaller and less vigorous tribes of the Hessians and Thuringians, which were surrounded by the midland or eastern Franks, the Saxons, and the Slavs. Alsatia, Switzerland, and South Germany eastward to the river Lech were occupied by the Alemannians, while the inhabitants of the remaining districts of the present Bavaria and Austria bore the collective name of Bavarians.

The history of the German language cannot be severed from the history of these tribes, for Frisian, Saxon, Frankish (Hessian, Thuringian), Alemannian, and Bavarian are the leading dialects of the Continental branch of the Teutonic family. What Dr J. A. H. Murray has pointed out about the origin of the principal English dialects may equally well be said of these Continental idioms. Having no specimens of the languages of the Continental tribes for nearly three centuries after their final settlement, we cannot tell to what extent they originally agreed with or differed from each other, although there must have been some dialectal differences to begin with, which were afterwards increased and multiplied, partly by phonetic changes (most probably resulting from scarcely discernible phonetic peculiarities, which, even in the earliest times, must have prevailed in those idioms), and partly by such alterations of the inflexional systems as are known to occur frequently in all languages whose character is not merely literary. But, however scanty our means of illustrating the earliest history of these idioms may be, there is no doubt that they were not all of them related to each other in the same degree. Three main groups are easily distinguishable :—

(1) Frisian and Saxon, whose nearest relation is English;

(2) Frankish, Hessian, and Thuringian; and (3) Alemaunian and Bavarian. Frisian is generally considered as a separate language. From Saxon the later Low German dialects {Niederdeutsche Mundarten) have sprung. The members of the third group (generally designated as Oberdeutsch, or Upper German), combined with Mitteldeutsch, or the midland dialects, viz., Thuringian, Hessian, and part of the Frankish dialects, are the sources of the later Hochdeutsch or High German. The greatest difference prevails between the first and third groups; the second may be characterized as containing various transition dialects. The southern Frankish dialects are very closely akin to the adjacent Upper German idioms, while Dutch, the utmost offshoot of the Frankish language to the north, does not very materially differ from Saxon or Frisian in the earliest period. The most striking phonetic feature of the languages of the first group is their regular dropping of the nasal sounds before the spirants f, th, s, accompanied by subsequent lengthening of the preceding vowels. Thus we have in Anglo-Saxon or Old English fiif, after, cuft, gas (Mod. English five, other, {uni) couth, goose), in Old Frisian fif, othar, cuth, gos, in Old Saxon fif, othar, cuth,gοs, corresponding to such Gothic forms as fimf, anthar, kunths, or the ordinary High German fünf, ander, kund, gans. Since, however, Dutch partakes of this peculiarity to some extent, we cannot easily form a decisive opinion as to the value of this fact as a distinctive mark; but more stress may be laid on a very remarkable difference in the inflexional system of the verb. Here the languages of the first group have melted together the forms of the three persons of the plural number, thus we, ge, his findaft, or fundon, we, you, they find, or found, in Old English ∙,wi,gι, hia findaft, or fundon in Old Frisian; wi, gi, sia findaft, or fundon in Old Saxon. The corresponding Old High German forms are wir findam, ir findat, sie findant for the present, wir funium, ir funtut, sie funtun for the perfect tense. Old Dutch joins, in this case, the German branch; from werthaη, to become, for instance, are derived wι werthun, gι werthift, sia τverthunt, &c. The declension of the substantives shows another remarkable difference. While the languages of the first group have retained the original s in the nominative plural of such words as Old English dagas, days, Old Saxon dagos, or changed it to r, as Old Frisian dagar, Dutch and German have dropped it altogether, the corresponding forms being daga and taga. These facts must be taken for decisive, as it seems to be certain that they existed before any distinction of Low and High German in their modern sense (a distinction chiefly dependent on subsequent changes in their mute system) could be thought of. From a purely grammatical point of view, Dutch, although generally considered a separate language (which no doubt it is, with regard to its literary and political position), is entitled to claim a closer relation to High German than even Low German, whose non· literary character, taken along with the political union of northern and southern Germany, has led to the current opinion that it is only a dialect of “German” in its narrower sense. We do not mean to deny that there is, at present, a more conspicuous conformity between Dutch and Low German than between Low German and High German; but this is only due to the fact that High German, after the final settlement of the German tribes, has deviated much more from its original features than either Dutch or Low German. The most striking peculiarities of High German, as opposed to all other Teutonic idioms, have mainly been caused by the second or High German “Lautverschiebung,” or change of mute consonants, which forme part of a long series of sound-changes generally comprehended under the name of Germanische Lautverschiebung or Grimm’s Law. This Lautverschiebung began, perhaps as early as the 7th century, in the south, and thence slowly spread northward, but with decreasing vigour and consistency, Dutch and Low German not being touched at all. It was only thus that the idiom of the Netherlands Franks of the later centuries was separated from the dialects of their “German” relations. Before, however, the first literary documents are met with, this separation is complete; and we may therefore restrict ourselves here to a short history of High and Low German alone.

The German language presents, as do most of the cognate tongues, three maiu stages of development,—Old, Middle, and Modern,—distinguished by their inflexional and literary character. In accordance with Mr Henry Sweet’s description of the stages of the English language, Old German may be defined as the period of full inflections (Old Low German, dages, dage, dagu∙, dagos, dago, dagun ; Old High German, tages, tage, tagu; tagä, tago, tagum), while the Middle period is that of levelled inflections (Middle Low German, dages, dage, dagen∙, Middle High German, tages, tage, tagen)·, but it is chiefly the literary character that distinguishes Modern High German from Low German and its own earlier stages. A special form of High German is established in this period for all literary purposes, supplanting the dialects both of Low and of High German that formerly were freely used in literary intercourse. Assuming two periods of transition besides, we have the following divisions, with the approximate dates: [table]

The same divisions have to be made for Low German, but the scheme cannot be so fully carried through, as the time between 1000 and 1200 is almost destitute of literary monuments.

Old German.— The inflexional characteristics of Old German are almost identical with those of Old English. Nouns had the same five cases,—nominative, accusative (only in a few instances kept distinct), genitive, dative, and instrumental. Strong and weak declensions of nouns and their subdivisions are likewise the same. The dual of the first and second personal pronouns is almost extinct in Old High German, but is quite common in Low German. In the verb we find the same distinction of the subjunctive from the indicative mood, and the same two inflected tenses, present and past,—the former also used for the future, the latter for all shades of past time. The order of the sentence corresponds generally to the modern use, but is not kept so strictly as now, especially in the oldest prose texts, which are often materially influenced by the Latin sources from which they have been derived or translated.

The earliest extant specimen of Low German belongs to the beginning of the 9th century. It is a short formula of renunciation of the devil to be used before the ceremony of baptism. It begins thus:—“Forsachistu dioboleî et respondeat: ec forsacho diabole. End allum diobolgelde 1 respondeat: end ec forsacho allum diobolgelde. End allum dioboles uuercum! respondeat: end ec forsacho allum dioboles uuercum and uuordtιm, Thuner ende Uuoden ende Saxnote ende allum them unholdum the hira genotas sint.” “Forsakest thou (the) devil? I forsake (the) devil. And all devil-sacrifice Ί And I forsake all devil-sacrifice. And all (the) devil’s works? And I forsake all the devil’s works and words, Thuner and Woden and Saxnot and all the uncouth (beings) that their companions are.”

We cannot, unfortunately, tell what special dialect of Low German this piece belonged to, nor even whether it was originally written in German, as several forms occurring in it have rather an Old English look. No more certain are the place of origin and the dialect of the most important relic of the Old Saxon language, the great poem of the Heliand, or the History of our Saviour, composed in the old alliterative verse by a Saxon cleric or monk, about the year 830. We quote as a specimen the following lines from the Munich MS.:—

“Quamun managa

Iudeon an thene gastseli; uuard im thar gladmod hugi, blidi an iro breostun: gisahun iro baggebon uuesen an uunneon. Drog man uuin an flet skiri mid scalun, scenkeon huurbun, gengun mid goldfatun; gaman uuas thar inne, lιlud an thero hallu, helidos drunkun.”

“ (There) came many Jews to the guest-hall; became to them there glad (their) mind, blithe in their breasts: (they) saw their ring-giver be in joy. Wine was borne into (the) hall bright in cups; cup-bearers walked about, went with golden vessels, joy was therein loud in the hall, the knights drank.”

Much more numerous and various in age and dialect are the documents of Old High German, some of which date as far back as the 8th century. Welcome as they may be to the student of grammar, not much can be said for their intrinsic value. Almost all the prose pieces are mere translations (many of them could not be worse) from the Latin; and even such poetical works as Otfrid’s Life of Christ are no more than prose thoughts forced into bad verse. Only a very few relics of true poetry have reached us, among which the Hildebrandslied (in a mixed dialect), the fragments of the Mùspüli (a poem about the Last Judgment, in the Bavarian dialect, belonging, like the Hildebrandslied, to the beginning of the 9th century, and also written in alliterative verse), and the Ludιvigslied (881 or 882, in one of the Frankish dialects) may be mentioned here.

High German, as already hinted, is chiefly distinguished from the other Teutonic languages by a certain transformation of its mute system. The ordinary changes,—that is to say, those received in the modern High German literary language,—are the following:—d is changed to t in all positions; t to z (either pronounced ts or ss); p to pf, ff, or/according to its position in the word; k initial and following a consonant is kept, but after a vowel k passes into ch (pronounced as Scotch or Modern German ch). Thus we get the following comparisons :— [table]

This is the state of things in the High Frankish or Eastern Frankish dialect, spoken in the south-east of the Frankish territory. In the earliest period, as may be seen from the above list, it still preserved the th sound in many cases; in the later stages d is found to have been substituted, as in Modern High German. The Upper German dialects show the same change at a much earlier time, and, in addition to this, they have also changed k initial and following a consonant into ch, and b and g initial into ρ and k (representing most likely voiceless soft stops, as still pronounced in South Germany and Switzerland); Bavarian admits p for b even in the middle of words. Thus we have, for instance, denchen for Frankish i/wnføn, to think; pitten for Frankish bitten, to bid; keban, or Bavarian kepan, for Frankish geban, to give. In illustration of these distinctions and some other variations of spelling we may quote three contemporaneous versions of the Lord’s Prayer which have fortunately been preserved:— [table]

It is impossible to give here a sufficient idea of the variability of Old High German, as, indeed, out of several hundred pieces that have come to our knowledge, there are not two representing exactly the same dialect to all its shades or at least in exactly the same spelling. We shall therefore restrict ourselves to a short notice of the more important documents. South-western Frankish is best represented by a very old translation of a treatise by Isidorus Hispalensis, De Fide Catholica, b and Otfrid’s Life of Christ, mentioned above. The chief source of Eastern Frankish ia a translation of the Harmony of the Gospels erroneously ascribed to the Syrian father Tatianus. For Bavarian we may quote some old glossaries, for Alemannian the interlineary versions of the Benedictine Rule and some Latin church hymns, besides several glossaries. For later Old High German, the works of Notker Labeo, or Teutonicus, a monk of St Gall who died in 1022, are the fundamental sources. What 0rmin did for English phonetics, Notker may be said to have done, even more completely, for those of Germany. He not only carefully marks the quantities of vowels, but also points out the phonetic difference between such diphthongs as ei, ou, iu, and ie, no by his way of accentuating them (ei, ou, iu, and îe, ûo) ; even such phonetic minutiae as the change of initial voiced stop consonants into voiceless stops after a pause or a voiceless consonant are duly registered, as may be seen from the following specimen.

“Sanctus paulus kehîez tien die in sînên zîten uuândon des sûonetagen, taz er êr nechâme êr romanum imperium zegîenge ünde antichristus rîchesôn begéndi. Uuér zuîuelôt romanos iu uuésen àllero rîcho hêrren ünde iro geuuAlt kân ze énde dero uuérlte î” “St Paul assured those who in his time expected the day of judgment that it would not come before the Roman Empire was dissolved, and Antichrist began to reign. Who doubts that the Romans are the masters of all kingdoms, and that their power reaches to the end of the world?”

It will be clear from what has been said above that the main feature of the Old High German period is the total absence of a common literary language. No voluntary modifications of the form of speech are to be found, but such as are naturally involved in any attempt to adapt a spoken idiom to literary use. Nevertheless it has been suggested by K. Müllenhoff and others that idioms of a more refined character than the ordinary popular dialects were spoken at the principal courts of the empire, and especially at the imperial court itself, and that the authority of these Hofsprachen was great enough to exercise a modifying influence on the literary productions throughout the empire, or in those parts at least where High German was the vernacular speech. But how these suppositions can be proved does not appear, or how they can be reconciled with the fact that all literary documents of the period are dialectal.

Middle German.— The transition to Middle High and Low German is conspicuously marked by a decided improvement in the poetic faculties of the nation. While the 10th century has left only a very few specimens of poetry, and these of poor quality, the number of poems (mainly of a theological bearing) dating from the 11th century is not inconsiderable, and the 12th century shows a rapidity of literary development almost unparalleled. At first indeed religious and legendary poetry is still prevalent, but soon literature begins to take a more historical or epic turn. This tendency is clearly visible in the Kaiserchronik, or Emperor’s Chronicle, in which the first attempt is made to give a survey of universal and German history in a poetical form. The romantic tales of Alexander the Great and of the battle of Roncesvalles weretranslated from the French,— the Alexanderlied by the Pfaffe Lamprecht, the Rolandslied by the Pfaffe Konrad; while old national traditions contributed fitting subjects for such epic poems as that concerning the adventures of the Lombard King Rother. Lyric poetry, hitherto altogether neglected, sprang suddenly into vigour in the remote east of Austria about the middle of the century, and soon found its way to other countries. But the most decided advance was not made till about 1180, when the new forms of social life that had crept in among the more cultivated classes, in imitation of the laws and customs of French chivalry, began to exercise a powerful reforming influence on all branches of poetry. The example set by the Netherlands poet, Heinrich von Veldeke (who for some time lived, and partly wrote, in Germany), in his JEηeit, or Aeneid, was soon followed by the three great epic masters of the period, Hartmann von Λue, Gottfried von Strasburg, and Wolfram von Eschenbach. About the same time the Nibelungenlied and other compositions of a more national character were composed, while lyric poetry was raised to a height of excellence never attained at any other period of the Middle Ages, and best represented in the songs of Walther von der Vogelweide. It is true enough that this new chivalrous poetry was not always very original in thought; indeed, most epic poems of this class, and many lyric stanzas, have been directly copied from French models; but its influence on the culture of the language was immense. It was then for the first time that Germany possessed a real literary language, undoubtedly homogeneous as far as style and metre are concerned. Whether a similar unity of the outer form of speech had already been reached at that period is a point very difficult to decide. The question was raised for the first time as early as 1820, by Karl Lachmann, in his Ausιvahl aus den hochdeutschen Dichtern des XIII. Jahrh. Lachmann’s opinion was that the poets of the 13th century spoke a definite, unchangeable sort of High German, a few minor dialectal peculiarities being excepted, and that uneducated scribes had been guilty of introducing older or corrupt forms of the common speech into our manuscripts. These views were at the time unanimously accepted, and are still held (though in a somewhat modified form, admitting two literary idioms, one in the south, the other in the midland) by a majority of the German philologists of the present day. As a consequence of this, most of the “critical” editions of Middle High German poetry that have appeared since Lachmann’s time do not reproduce the original readings of the manuscripts, but give the texts in a “corrected” form, commonly called “correct Middle High German,” which is assumed to appear in its purest form in the works of Hartmann von Aue. It is chiefly Alemannian, or Swabian, with some Frankish peculiarities of spelling in the use of the consonants, in order to produce a greater resemblance to ordinary Modern High German orthography. No manuscript, however, is known to be written in exactly the same language or orthography; nor are there any poets, except those of Swabia, who do not clearly show by their rhymes the existence of dialectal forms in their speech, All incongruities in the rhymes disappear when they are transferred to the forms peculiar to the local dialects of their authors. It was therefore but natural that a reaction against Lachmann’s views should ultimately have set in; and this reaction appears to have been right in denying that dialectal forms were purposely and studiously avoided, even by the classic authors of the period, with a view to the approximation of their language to a certain universal idiom never existing anywhere but in the fancy of certain modern writers. How injurious to the study of Middle High German dialects the views of Lachmann, had they prevailed, must have been, it is easy to see; but on the other hand it must not be forgotten that the only method of investigating the dialects of the single authors was that followed by Lachmann, viz., to reconstruct them by a careful study of the rhymes, for the dialects of the manuscripts are often, nay in most cases, clearly different from those of the writers themselves, as shown by the rhymes. It is therefore not so much the principle of reconstruction that has been resisted by Lachmann’s opponents as the way in which this reconstruction has been practically carried out. For prose writings of course no such reconstruction is possible; still, prose documents, especially such as were destined for local use only (charters, <fcc.), and therefore less liable to adulterations of the original, are often the main sources for German dialectology.

The prominent feature of German (Low German included) in this period is the levelling of the unaccented vowels of the inflexional and some of the derivative syl-tables already mentioned. As to the former there is only one exception, viz., the retaining of the termination iu (pronounced as Modern German u qt French long w) for the nom. sing. fem. and the nom. and acc. plur. neutr. of the adjectives (flindiu, while all other cases have the levelled e) ; and even this seems to be a speciality of Upper German, the corresponding Midland form being blinde as in Modern German. The unaccented e is frequently dropped in all dialects, especially in the south, where the dropping is almost regular after an r or l closing a short syllable, as in bern, steln, for bereu, stelen, to bear, to steal; Old High German, beraη, stelaη. In the Midland dialects i is often written for this e, thus berin, steliη. The accented vowels of the root syllables are greatly changed in this period by the “Umlaut,” or mutation of sounds, being an assimilation of these vowels to an i or y originally following. Thus a, a, o, o, u, ü, uo are changed to e, ce, Ü or ö, ce, w, iu (long ü), üe, as may be seen in the following instances :— hant, hand, pl. hende; rat, council, pl. rcete; golt, gold, güldîn, golden, or mohte, I might, subj. mohte; groz, great, groeze, size; kus, a kiss, küssen, to kiss; müs, mouse, pl. miuse∙, guot, good, güete, goodness. The Umlaut, however, is not always expressed in the spelling of the manuscripts, though it must have existed in the living language. Of the diphthongs, iu has been changed into long ü, but the old spelling is often retained in the MSS. (liute, modern Leute, Old High German liuti, people). As to the consonants, the th sound had nearly disappeared at the beginning of the period, and was lost entirely in its course; sk has passed into the sh sound, written sch as in Modern German. Spelling in general is simpler, and in some points more rigidly phonetic than in Old German. Final voiced consonants, as b, d, g, are generally changed into the corresponding voiceless sounds, as p, t, c (in High German grap, grave, gen. <7rαδes, ρfat, path, gen. pfades, tac, day, gen. dages; in Low German graf graves, pat pades, dach dages). Double consonants are simplified in the same position, as in Old German {fal, ball, gen. banes'). The use of the letter v has greatly increased; in High German it means simply f, and is therefore quite superfluous; in Low German its pronunciation is f at the beginning of words, while in the middle of words it lias the same sound as English v.

The leading dialects of the period are those of Old German, the most noteworthy difference being the accession of the dialects of the kingdom of Saxony {Obersächsisch, or Upper Saxon) and Silesia to the midland dialects, and those of some eastern provinces of Prussia {Niedersächsisch, or Low Saxon) to Low German, in consequence of the German colonization of these countries. Low German, to begin with, has retained the phonetic structure of its consonantal system unaltered, except by the loss of the th sound. The spelling of the vowel system is very imperfect. Umlaut is not expressed in the older manuscripts, except in the case of a and e. A long e corresponds to both High German ei and ie, a long o to High German ou, ou, and uo, üe, the only diphthong generally admitted being ou before a w, as in hrnιwen, to hew. The pronunciation of ë and o must, however, in these cases have been different according to their etymological values, for all the High German sounds mentioned above are distinctly kept asunder in the modern Low German dialects, and ei and u or u are often written for ë and o where they stand for High German ei and uo or üe, but never otherwise. It is most likely, judging from the present state of things, that open e, o were the equivalents for High German ei, ou, ou, while close e, o corresponded to High German ie, uo, üe. The préfixais dropped, as in English and in the Scandinavian languages (thus bort, birth, High German geburt). But the most remarkable fact in the history of Low German sounds is the restoration of nd or ηn for th after a dropped nasal sound (see above, p. 516), as in ander or anner, other, for Old Saxon 6thar, or in muηt, mouth, for Old Saxon muth. This transition cannot be explained by any phonetic laws, but must necessarily be ascribed to High German influence. As to the inflexional system, a similar influence seems to have introduced the High German terminations of the plural of verbs {wi geven, gi gevet, se geven we, you, they give). The Old Saxon ∙* in the nominative plural has been dropped, as in High German. The following lines quoted from the municipal laws of the town of Hamburg (written 1270) maybe taken as a fair specimen of 13th-century Low German :—“Dat nement syn erue verkopen schal, he ne bede id erst synen negesten. So we syn erue vorkopen wil, dat bynnen desser stad vnde bynnen dessem wicbelde belegen is, de schal id beden twen synen negesten vrunden, dar syn erue vp vallen mach, vnde wil it erer nen kopen, so mot he syn erue wol vorkopen deme de erne dar vmme allermest geuen wil.” “That nobody shall sell his inheritance, unless he offer it first to his nearest (relations). Whosoever is willing to sell his inheritance, that is situated within this town and within these precincts, shall offer it to two his nearest friends (relations), to whom his inheritance may fall, and if neither of them is willing to buy it, he must (may) well sell his inheritance to him who is willing to give him most for it.”

The differences of the main dialects of High German are not very striking during the first stage of this period. Alemannian is best characterized by its rigidly keeping its original vowel qualities, some of the modern Swiss dialects showing exactly the same system as about 1200. Swabian is easily discovered by its frequent use of au for a, as in gaun, to go, for gaη. A very important change of vowel qualities is found to have taken place, at a very early time, in the Bavarian dialect. While ie, uo, He were preserved as in Alemannian, ei, ou, ou were changed into oei (or ai), au, eu (or au), and three new diphthongs, ei, ou, eu, sprang up from the long vowels ï, Û, iu (u). In the Midland dialects again, ei, mi, and ï, ü, ü were kept, as in Alemannian (although ü is generally not distinguished from u in writing, as in most Midland manuscripts no special signs for the Umlaut vowels are u≡ed, except e), but ie, uo, üe were contracted to simple ï, ü (u), differing from the old ï, ü, iu only in their open quality. The system of these changes may be illustrated by the following list :— [table]

As to the consonants, Alemannian and Bavarian still clung to the use of ch or kch for ordinary k, as chomen, for komen, to come. P initial for b is especially Bavarian, and was rather more frequent in the 14th and 15th centuries than before; w initial is often expressed by b in Bavarian manuscripts since the 13th century; thus we find paideu, both, for beidiu or peidiu in Alemannian, or beide in the Midland dialects, and beip, wife, or even zbai, two, for ordinary wïp, zwei - k initial for ordinary g went altogether out of use. In Midland orthography the two sounds of Old High German z, viz. ts and ss, were expressed by cz or zc, and z or zz respectively. The following specimens of the language of this period are taken from the Schwabenspiegel, or Swabian Law, for Alemannian (13th century); the Spiegel deutscher Leute, or Mirror of German People, for Bavarian (14th century); and a Midland version of the Sachsenspiegel, or Saxon Law:—

[table]

“To the pope it is set (ordained) that he shall judge at a certain time,(sitting) on a white horse, and the emperor shall hold the stirrup to the pope, that the saddle may not slide off. This means that whatsoever resists the pope, so that he cannot overcome it with spiritual censure, the emperor and other secular judges shall overcome with the proscription, (and the spiritual [court] shall exercise discipline with the ban).”

In the 14th and 15th centuries the development of the dialects rapidly advanced. The greatest changes were those occurring in the vowel system. The new diphthongs ei, ou, eu, for older z, w, iu, which had originated in the southeastern parts of the Bavarian district gradually spread to the north and west; even some of the South Midland dialects, as Bohemian and Silesian, began to partake of this change, while the north Midland dialects and Alemannian remained unaltered. Short root syllables ending in a single consonant began to be lengthened in almost all dialects, as geben, riemeη, for geben, nemen, to give, to take. Unaccented e was dropped in the southern dialects, especially in Bavarian, to the utmost extent possible. Such forms as pschoech, gtorst, hcert, for beschoehe, happened (subj.), getorste, I durst, gehoeret, heard (part.), began to be quite familiar. Even before a final l or nasal sound e was now and then dropped in Bavarian, as in<7eδm for geben, to give, gegnt for g eg ende country, which are exactly the forms still used in our time. Midland and Low German dialects continued to be much more conservative in all these respects. In the consonantal system we have to mention the loss of the 2 sound in all dialects, where it was a simple spirant (notis); although the letter z was still often preserved in spelling, it was frequently confounded with s in the rhymes, a thing which never occurred in the earlier centuries. Alemannian is chiefly distinguished by its constant change of sm, sn, sl, sw, sp, st into schm, schn, seid, schιv, schp, seht, as in schmit, smith, sehne, snow, schlahen, to slay, schwimmen, to swim, geschproehen i spoken, geischtlich, “ghostly,” spiritual. Late Bavarian favours such spellings as chrankch, pekch, for krank, becke. Spelling in general was much neglected, although it was not quite so bad as often in the 1Gth century, when there was a strong tendency towards crowding as many letters into a word as possible.

While the 15th century was thus marked by great divergencies of the spoken dialects, important steps towards gaining a greater uniformity of literary speech were made in the same period by the invention of the art of printing, and by the development of certain Kanzleisprachen, or literary idioms of the imperial and other chanceries. There is no need to explain how the habit of reading books printed in dialects not familiar to the reader must have obliged the learned public of the time to acquire a certain amount of knowledge of dialects in general, and must have made them better aware of the peculiarities of their own idioms than was either necessary or possible at the time when manuscripts written expressly in the local dialects of the readers were the only means of conveying literary information. Besides, writers as well as printers must soon have found it profitable to publish their works in a language readily understood by readers in all parts of the country. The principal work, however, was doue in Germany by the chanceries. Among these the imperial chancery naturally held the most prominent position; and, inasmuch as its public acts were addressed to readers of all dialects existing throughout the empire, it obviously had also the greatest interest in calling into existence a general idiom. In the 14th century no difference between the language of the imperial chancery and the local idioms of the particular emperors was yet visible. The public Acts of Louis of Bavaria (1314-1347) were written in the Bavarian dialect. The succession of Charles IV. (1347-1378) was accompanied by the introduction of the Bohemian dialect into the imperial charters. This dialect, as was natural from its local position, was neither purely Southern nor purely Midland. Ei, ou, eu for ï, ü, iu were frequently adopted from the Southern dialects, but ch for k and p for b were generally rejected; unaccented vowels were preserved to about the same extent as in Midland German. In the reign of Wenceslaus of Bohemia (1378-1400) the same state of things was maintained; but in the charters of Rupert, the elector palatine (1400-1410), we find the Midland dialect of the Palatinate. Sigismund (1410-1437) reintroduced the Bohemian dialect, which by this time had, with the exception of a very short period, prevailed for nearly a hundred years in the imperial chancery. It was therefore but natural that Duke Frederick of Austria should exchange the Austrian dialect of his ducal chancery (which abounded with kch, kh, kg [oxk, and p for δ) for the Bohemian chancery dialect of his predecessors, when he succeeded to the imperial throne (1470-1493). His example was followed by Maximilian (1493-1519), but only so far as public Acts were concerned. In charters destined for local Austrian use as well as in his private correspondence he always kept his vernacular Austrian dialect, showing thus that no change of the spoken idioms had been caused as yet by the introduction of the new artificial language. In the same manner and at the same time the Midland dialect of the electoral chancery of Saxony came to be better adapted for general use by the adoption of the Southern ei, ou, eu for ï, ü, iu, and the abolition of several prominent Midland peculiarities.

Modern High German.— In the preceding paragraph we have tried to give a short sketch of the origin of literary Modern High German; and it is this very idiom of the imperial and Saxon chanceries that Luther made afterwards popular by his translation of the Bible and his numerous other writings. We may quote his own words in confirmation :— .

“Ich habe keine gewisse, sonderliche, eigne spräche im deutschen, sondern brauche der gemeinen deutschen spräche, das mich beide Ober-und Niederländer verstehen mögen. Ich rede nach der sechsischen cantzlei, welcher nachfolgen alle fürsten vnd könige in Deutschland; Alle reichsstedte, fürstenliöfe schreiben nach der sechsischen vnd vnsers fürsten cantzeley. Darumb ists auch die gemeinste deutsche spräche. Kaiser Maximilian vnd churfürst Friderich, hertzog von Sachsen, haben im römischen reiche die deutschen sprachen also in eine gewisse sprach zusammengezogen.” Luther’s language, again, was soon acknowledged by German grammarians, as Sebastian Franck (1531) and Johannes Clajus (1578), and was accordingly imitated, as the best pattern of High German. It is true that in the 1Cth century many writers, especially in Switzerland and Lower Germany, still clung with great pertinacity to their native dialects. But about 1600 Luther’s language was fully established as the only idiom of literary intercourse throughout Germany. The changes the language has undergone since Luther’s time mostly concern the inflexional system. In the strong verbs the differences between the singular and plural and the indicative and subjunctive of the past have been levelled in the course of time: thus, ich fand, zvir fanden, I, we found, subj. ich fände, or ich schnitt, wir schnitten, I, we cut, for ich fand·, wir fanden, ich fände, or ich schneit, ivir schnitten. At present the verb werden, to become, is the only specimen left of the old regular inflexion :— ich ward, wir ιvurden, ich würde’, but even here a new irregular form, ich wurde, has come into use and almost superseded the more archaic ich ward, which is now chiefly confined to poetry. Many other vowel changes have taken place besides, as in ιvebe, wob, gewoben, weave, wove, woven, for Middle High German wibe, reap, geweben, so that the old system of “Ablaut,” or vowel change in the root syllables of the strong verbs has often become quite indistinct. A great number of verbs have passed from the strong inflexion to the weak, and vice versa. The declension of substantives has also been greatly altered. Umlaut is now regularly used as a plural sign with most monosyllabic and many dissyllabic masculine words, as in baum, bäume, or nagel, nagel, for Middle High German bourn, bourne, and nagel, nagele-, originally it was confined to a much smaller number of words (7-stems, as gast, gäste, Middle High German gast, geste). Other masculine words have adopted the plural-er, together with Umlaut of the root syllables, from the neuter declension, as mann, männer, geist, geister, besides frequent exchanges between the strong and weak declensions, which cannot be specified here. The strong and the weak declension of feminine words originally ending in e have been melted together, one form (ending in e or a consonant) being used for all singular, and one (ending in en or η after a consonant) for all plural cases, as <∕cιδe, gaben, zahl, zahlen, zuηge, Zungen, for Middle High German gäbe, gäbe, gen. and dat. gäben-, zαl, zal, gen. and dat. ζα/π; zunge, gen. dat. and acc. Zungen, pl. Zungen throughout. As to phonology, no change of vowel quality is noticeable in literary German. Modern High German still has the Midland sounds 7 (often spelt ie), ü, ü, for Southern ie, uo, üe, as well as the Bavarian diphthongs ei, au, eu (αw), for the older sounds 7, u, iu, the latter not being distinguished either in spelling or in educated pronunciation from the older diphthongs ei, ou, on. We have thus zwei, drei, baum, haus, frende, hauser, lente for Middle High German zwei, dm, boum, hüs, vronde, hiuser, liute. Change of vowel quantity is the most prominent phonetic feature of Modern High German when compared with the earlier stages of the language. All root-syllables ending formerly in a short vowel followed by a simple consonant have now become long, either by lengthening the vowel or by doubling the consonant, thus täg, täge, säl, bote, or gott, gottes, blatt, blätter, for AIiddle High German tag (or täc), täge, sal, bote, got, gδtes, blat, bleter. The rules for dropping unaccented vowels have often been changed accordingly. It must not be forgotten, however, that all these rules are only applicable to the literary idiom; the dialects, and even those of the educated people, often differ very materially from the rules laid down above. There is, indeed, no such thing as a generally recognized standard pronunciation of German, except perhaps on the stage, which no doubt has exercised and still exercises a certain influence on the cur rent opinions as to how one ought to pronounce, but has not been powerful enough to abolish all dialectal peculiarities in the case of even the highest classes. Only a very few general rules can be given. Englishmen will do well to pronounce the vowels as in Italian: ü and 'o are rounded or labialized i and e sounds, formed by pouting the lips while trying to pronounce i or e. Long vowels are always pronounced simple, never as diphthongs (which is frequently the case in English, especially with a and o). Unaccented e is invariably dropped in the terminations el, en, the real pronunciation of such words as handel, bitten, lippen, haben, nehmen being handl, bittn, lippn or liρprn,, häbn or häbm, nem (with a lengthened m). Among the peculiarities of the consonantal system we may mention the sound of ch (in two distinct varieties as in αch and ich), the z, which is a combination of t and s, and the r, which ought to be trilled with the tip of the tongue, but is often pronounced as a uvular or guttural sound. S initial is generally sounded like the English 2, in stage pronunciation, but not usually elsewhere; st and sp initial are never pronounced on the stage like English st or sp, but are always sht, slip, as in stein, spiel, pronounced (to use English spelling) as shtine, shpeel. The English 10 ought to be avoided. The German w sound is more like English v, but somewhat softer; in Midland pronunciation a sound intermediate between English w and v takes its place. German v is simply ∕.

The varieties of the German dialects of the present are too numerous to be described here. It may suffice to state that the old divisions of Low German, Midland, and Upper German dialects are still applicable. Among the first, the Western or Westphalian dialects are distinctly marked by the pronunciation of g initial as a gh, or voiced ch (sometimes even voiceless), and the use of numerous diphthongs, both long and short, instead of simple vowels. The principal subdivisions of Midland German are the Lower Rhenish or Middle Frankish dialect (including the German dialects of Transylvania), South-Western and Eastern or High Frankish, Hessian, Thuringian, Saxon, and Silesian. Alemannian is divided into the three main groupsof Swabian, Alsatian, and Swiss, while Bavarian is constituted by several subdialects spoken in Bavaria and Austria. The study of these dialects has been carried on in Germany for a considerable time, but not always very successfully, especially so far as phonology is concerned; for many observers, while well-trained in all the disciplines of the older school of philology, have been totally ignorant of the simplest laws of phonetics. It is only within the last few years that the value of phonetic studies (although they began in German researches) has been duly recognized in the country of their origin, and dialectology has not hitherto gained much by the more theoretical study of general phonetics. Some excellent beginnings indeed have been made, among which Dr Winteler’s book on his native Swiss dialect holds by far the foremost rank; but it is probable that a long time must yet elapse before Germany can possess so well trained and independent a school of phonetists as that which already exists in England headed by Mr A. Melville Bell and Mr Alexander J. Ellis. Not till then, however, can a real history of the German language be written. (e. si.) PART IV.—LITERATURE.

There is a deep vein of poetry in the Teutonic nature, and it appears to have revealed itself in the earliest ages. According to Tacitus, the Germans of his time had ancient songs relating to the god Tuisco, his son Mannus, and the three forefathers of the Teutonic race. They had also poems in honour of Arminius, the original subject of which was probably the god Irmin, whose pillar Charles the Great overthrew long afterwards in his first campaign against the Saxons. A song called “barditus,” celebrating the greatness of the war-god whom Tacitus calls Hercules, was sung or chanted by the freemen as they advanced to battle. The name “barditus” led some ingenious writers of the 18th century to speculate respecting an order of bards among the ancient Germans; but there is no evidence that any such order existed. “Barditus” meant in the first instance a shield, and was transferred to the song because, while the singing went on, the shield was held to the mouth to make the sound more terrible. It is the opinion of many critics that the stories of “Reynard the Fox” and “Isengrim the Wolf” may be traced back to these remote times. If so, the probability is that they were brought by the Teutons from Asia, and were originally common to the Aryan family. There is every reason to believe that some elements of the Nibelungenlied belong to the prehistoric age. The legend of Siegfried has all the marks of extreme antiquity, and it seems to have had at first a purely mythological character. Of the rhythm in which these primitive conceptions were embodied we have no certain knowledge; but as the most ancient poems which have been preserved are in alliterative verse, it is reasonable to assume that this had grown up long before writing came into use.

I. The Early Middle Age.— When the German tribes began to accept Christianity the clergy every where opposed the native poetry, and strove to replace its rude conceptions by the milder imagée of the gospel. Among the Goths of the 4th century Bishop Ulfilas took the most effectual means of achieving his purpose by preparing a clear, faithful, and simple rendering of the Scriptures,—a translation which has been of inestimable value in the scientific study of the Teutonic languages. No clergyman of like genius arose in Germany itself; but there, too, pagan compositions were steadily discouraged. Charles the Great was the first to check this hostile movement. He showed his love of his native speech, not only by beginning to put together a German grammar, but by issuing orders for a collection of old German poetry. Louis the Pious had little sympathy with the taste of his father, but he could not efface the impression produced by the great emperor. Many of the clergy ceased to dislike that which so mighty a friend of the church had approved, and in some monasteries there were ardent collectors of ancient epic fragments and ballads.

These treasures of Old High and Low German literature are nearly all lost, but from the small portions which have come down to us, and from hints in Latin chronicles, we can at least make out the themes with which many of them dealt. Ermanrick, or Ermanaricus, the famous Gothic king of the 4th century, was the subject of a large number of poetical legends. Siegfried continued to be a great epic hero, and from about the 7th century he appears to have been no longer treated as superhuman. The legend of the overthrow of the Burgundian king, Gundicarius or Günther, by Attila assumed many forms, and was at a later time connected with the story of Siegfried. Around the name of Theodoric the East Goth, as Dieterich, several legends soon grouped themselves; and from about the 9th century he was associated with Attila, with whom in history he had nothing to do. Unfortunately, the fragments which have been preserved—all of which are alliterative—do not treat of these supreme heroes; their subjects are of subordinate importance and interest. The Hildebrandsl·ied, which was written from traditional narratives early in the 9th century, and is in a mixed dialect, introduces us to a follower of Dieterich. Hildebrand, returning from the wars carried on by his lord, is compelled to fight his own son; but we are left in uncertainty whether father or son is conqueror. The Ludwigslied is a ballad of the latter part of the 9th century, written in honour of a victory gained over the Northmen by Louis III., the West-Frankish king. The author was probably a monk who had been a favourite at the court of Charles the Bald. There is also an Old High German ballad celebrating the reconciliation of Otto I. with his brother Henry; and similar ballads are known to have kept up the fame of Duke Ernest of Swabia, who rebelled against Conrad II., and of many other popular heroes. Walter of Aquitania, who flies with his bride fpm the court of Attila, and at Worms fights King Günther and his warriors, is the hero of a Latin poem of the 10th century, written by a mouk of St Gall, whose materials were evidently taken from a more vigorous German original. The Merseburger Gediçhte, two songs of enchantment, were written in the 10th century, but must have come down from a much more remote period. They are chiefly interesting for the light they throw upon the religious beliefs and customs of ancient Germany.

The old ballads, which were intended to be sung as well as recited, were handed down from generation to generation, and necessarily underwent many changes. They were preserved from an early period in the memory of the people by professional minstrels, who were held in considerable honour in the time of Charles the Great, but were afterwards rather tolerated than encouraged by the higher classes. Many of them were blind men, and in their solitary wanderings the ancient stories must often have assumed in their minds new shapes. They usually accompanied their singing with the zither or the harp.

Of the works with which the church sought to counteract pagan influences very few remain. The most important is Heliand, a Low German poem in alliterative verse said to have been written by a Saxon at the request of Louis the Pious. It is a narrative of the life of Christ, and follows closely the Four Gospels, whose separate accounts it attempts to harmonize. The author has considerable force and freedom of expression, and seems to have been so absorbed in the grandeur of his theme as to have deliberately rejected rhetorical ornament. The so-called Krist of Otfrid, a High German poet, who dedicated his work to Louis the German, has the same subject, but is not nearly so effective. It is the first rhymed German poem, and the necessities of rhyme often compel Otfrid to fill out his line with words and phrases which obscure his meaning. His lyrical passages are too didactic to rank as genuine poetry. The fragment of Muspilli, a Bavarian poem of the 9th century on the Last Judgment, indicates power of a much higher order. Its form is alliterative; and reminiscences of paganism are strangely mingled with its Christian ideas.

Duriug the reigns of Charles the Great and Louis the Pious secular learning was zealously cultivated in the monasteries of Germany as well as in those of other portions of the Frankish empire. The school established by Hrabanus Maurus in the famous abbey of Fulda vied with that of Tours, where Hrabanus had been a pupil of Alcuin, in the excellence of its teaching. In the wars with the Northmen, with the Magyars, and with the Slavs under the later Carolingian kings, many of the ecclesiastical institutions were destroyed; but they sprang up again under the protection of Henry I. From the time of his son Otto I. the Germans stood in direct relation with Italy; the marriage of Otto II. with the princess Theophano brought them into connexion with the learning and refinement of the Byzantine court and Gerbert, the friend of Otto III., afterwards Pope Silvester II., introduced them to some of the achievements of Arabian science. These influences quickened the energies of enlightened churchmen, and originated an intellectual movement which to some extent continued during the vigorous reigns of the first two Franconian sovereigns, Conrad II. and Henry III. The chief subject of study was the scholastic philosophy, to which, however, in its earlier stages, Germany made no supremely important contribution. The Neo-Platonic tendencies of Scotus Erigena were opposed by Hrabanus Maurus, who remained loyal to Aristotle and Boetius; and his example was generally followed, not only by his successors in Fulda, but by the members of all other German schools. The school of St Gall was exceptionally active, and one of the monks, Notker Labeo, who died in 1022, wrote some original philosophical books, and translated into German the De Consolatione of Boetius and two of Aristotle’s works. In pure literature very little was done; but there are several well-written Latin histories belonging to the 11th century. The best thought of the age was manifested in its Romanesque architecture, and in the then subordinate arts of painting, sculpture, and music.

II. The Age of Chivalry.— The reign of Henry IV., during which the struggle between the empire and the papacy began, had a disastrous effect on the national culture; and the evil was not remedied under the disturbed rule of his two immediate successors. But under the Hohenstaufen dynasty, during the period of Middle High German, the country passed through one of the greatest epochs of its literature. The more learned of the clergy interested themselves deeply in the development of scholasticism through the nominalists and the realists; and in the 13th century Albertus Magnus, a native of Swabia, produced the first systematic exposition of Aristotle, in the full light of Arabian research. It was, however, in poetry that Germany achieved the highest distinction; and her most important poets were members of the knightly class, which at this time rose to its utmost power and fame. There were many reasons why the members of this class became sensitive to the higher influences of the imagination. In the first place, they had the elevating consciousness of a life shared with a vast community which set before itself the loftiest aims. Historians sometimes take a malicious pleasure in contrasting the mean performance of many knights with their high vows; but these vows at any rate introduced into the life of rough nobles an ideal element, and inclined them to take interest in the gentler and nobler aspects of existence. In the Italian wars of Frederick Barbarossa the German knights saw more than they had ever before done of Southern civilization, and their minds were continually stimulated by the varying fortunes of their adventurous emperor. Of still greater importance was the influence of the crusades, in which the Germans first took an active part under Frederick’s predecessor, Conrad III. The crusaders had a remote and unselfish aim, connected with all that was most sacred and most tender in their religious ideas; and this alone would have created a sentiment favourable to poetic aspiration. But, besides this, the far-off Eastern lands, with their strange peoples and mystical associations, awoke dreams which could not have other than harmonious utterance, and on the return of the warriors they stirred the fancy of their friends with reports of a new and greater world. While the crusades lasted,the knights were forced into intimate acquaintance with the clergy, whose refined culture inevitably to some extent softened their rudeness; they also formed friendships with representatives of French chivalry. In France the works of the troubadours and the trouvères formed one of the most prominent elements of the national life, and the French nobles did not forget in Palestine the songs and romances of their home. The better minds in the German armies caught the inspiration, and longed to distinguish themselves by like achievements. And their desire was deepened when, by the acquisition of the Free County of Burgundy, Frederick Barbarossa opened a new pathway by which intellectual influences might pass from the western to the eastern bank of the Rhine.

The poetic impulse which thus entered Germany affected a wide circle; the highest princes as well as the humblest knights felt its power. Even the emperor Henry VI. himself is said to have been moved by the prevailing feeling, and to have composed verses. At the imperial and princely courts poets were encouraged to give expression to their genius; and the ladies whose beauty and virtues they delighted to praise stimulated their endeavours by marked appreciation. Thus the national imagination found in the whole temper of the age an atmosphere well adapted to the blooming of its first spring-time.

The most characteristic outcome of this active era is the series of poetical romances produced in the 12th and 13th centuries. The German poets might have found magnificent material in their old, native legends; but for the most part they preferred subjects which had already been artistically wrought by the trouvères, whose methods and style they also closely imitated. Among the themes they selected may be mentioned the legends of Alexander the Great, of Charles the Great and his paladins, of Arthur and the knights of the Round Table, with the allied legend of the Holy Grail. The fortunes of Tristram and Iseult also exercised a powerful charm over many minds. These and all other chosen subjects were treated wholly in the spirit of chivalry. The poets of the Middle Age had no idea of being true to the characteristics of a particular epoch; their own time was the only one they attempted to understand. Ancient heroes became in their hands mediaeval knights; men who had died long before the rise of Christianity were transformed into devoted servants of the Church. And in every romance the supreme aim was to present an idealized picture of the virtues of knighthood.

One of those who prepared the way for the chief romancewriters was Conrad, a priest in the service of Henry the Proud, who, before 1139, composed the Rolaηdslied, setting forth, in imitation of the French Chanson de Poland, the overthrow of Roland, the favourite paladin of Charles the Great, in the pass of Roncesvalles. He was followed by another priest, Lamprecht, who, also working upon a French original, relates in t ∖∖ Q Alexaηderlied the deeds of the Macedonian hero. Greater than either of these was Heinrich von Veldeke, the first of the poets who may claim to rank as German trouvères. His great work was i ∖ iQHneit, written beween 1175 and 1190. It is not only in armour and in dress that Virgil’s characters are here changed; in thought and feeling they are recreated. The language of the poem is so carefully chosen, and the incidents are narrated with so much spirit, that it is still possible to understand the immense popularity it once enjoyed. Hartmann von Aue, in Der Arme Heinrich and other poems, selected themes that are extremely repulsive to modern feeling; but he was endowed with genuinely plastic force, and interests us by touching certain mystical -aspects of mediaeval sentiment. The master in whom these aspects were most fully represented was Wolfram von Eschenbach, a member of a noble family of Franconia, who wa3 born during the reign of Frederick Barbarossa and died during that of his grandson, Frederick II. He was one of a group of poets who established themselves at the Wartburg, the court of the brilliant landgrave Hermann of Thuringia; and his chief poem, Parzival, was composed there towards the end of the 12th century. Germany did not produce during the Middle Ages a more truly poetic mind, and it is curious to observe how exactly he anticipated some of the qualities for which she long afterwards became famous. He has all the dreaminess, the sentiment, the passion for the ideal, which are, or rather at one time were, her most attractive characteristics. The hero, trained by his mother amid circumstances of idyllic simplicity, suddenly passes into a world of movement and adventure, and he is brought by accident to the gorgeous palace of the Holy Grail, of whose kingdom he ultimately becomes lord. The object of the poem is evidently to depict the strivings of a restless but noble spirit, dissatisfied with passing pleasure, having always before it a high and spotless aim. It is difficult for modern readers to detect the spiritual significance of many of the scenes; the poet seems to escape from us into a far-off region, whence his words reach us rather as dim echoes than as clear, ringing sounds. And some of the descriptions are in themselves tedious and superfluous, while advance from one stage of the tale to another apparently proceeds according to the arbitrary whim of the moment. Nevertheless, the character of Parzival is a true conception of genius, and enables us to understand, better than any other imaginative creation of mediaeval Germany, that discontent with life as it is, that sense of being haunted by visions of spiritual loveliness, which, throughout the Middle Ages, existed side by side with unrestrained delight in the outward world.

A complete, almost a dramatic, contrast to Wolfram von Eschenbach is found in Gottfried of Strasburg, the greatest of his literary contemporaries. These two men are representatives of a distinction which incessantly recurs,—that between the poet who fashions spirits of a finer mould than those we actually know, and the poet who contents himself with penetrating into the innermost recesses of existing character. Gottfried’s theme is Tristram and Iseult; and the charming tale, which unfortunately he did not live to carry to the end, was perhaps never more beautifully told. There are no mystic longings in the men and women he presents tous: they love the earth and the sky, with their gorgeous colours, graceful forms, and happy sounds; they care not to inquire what may lie behind these, or whether in the scheme of things there is a place for moral law. Few poets have set forth so powerfully the×fascination of youthful passion. In his glowing pictures we find no shadowy figures like those of Wolfram, with step so light that they appear to be the figures of a dream; his images are clear, sharply cut, like those of the world from which they are taken. And although psychological analysis was unknown to him, the actions of his characters display keen insight into the secrets of human hearts when entangled in the most confused meshes.

Mediaeval romance bore its richest fruit in the works of these two great poets; and most of their successors imitated one or other of them. Those who followed in Gottfried’s steps came nearest to a happy result, for Wolfram was one of those lonely and daring spirits in whose remote path it is given to few to tread without stumbling. The best known of Gottfried’s imitators was Conrad von Würzburg, who wrote on the Trojan war and many other subjects, and 13 considered one of the most artistic of mediaeval writers. Towards the end of the 13th century the movement showed signs of exhaustion, and romances began to make way for rough popular tales and rhymed chronicles.

Fortunately the poets of the age of chivalry did not all occupy themselves with the subjects of French romances. A few, whose names we do not know, turned towards the rich material in the metrical legends of their native land. Of these poets the most important was he who collected and put into shape the ancient ballads which make up the Nibelungenlied. How far he modified them we cannot tell. In the form in which we possess them, they probably owe something of their force to his genius; but he needed rather to arrange and to curtail than to invent, and, although a genuine poet, he was not at all times competent for his task. The work includes the legends of Siegfried, of Gundicarius, or Günther, king of Burgundy, of Dieterich, and of Attila; and the motives which bind them into a whole are the love and revenge of Kriemhild, the sister of Günther and Siegfried’s wife. She excites the envy of Brunhild, the Burgundian queen, whose friend, Hagen, one of Günther’s followers, discovers the vulnerable point in Siegfried’s enchanted body, treacherously slays him, and buries in the Rhine the treasure he has long before conquered from the race of the Nibelungen. There is then a pause of thirteen years, after which Kriemhild, the better to effect her fatal purpose, marries Attila, king of the Huns. Thirteen years having again passed, her thirst for vengeance is satiated by the slaying of the whole Burgundian court. The Germans justly regard this great epic as one of the most precious gems of their literature. It has little of the grace of courtly poetry; its characters are without subtlety or refinement; we are throughout in the presence of vast elemental forces. But these forces are rendered with extraordinary vividness of imagination, and with a profound feeling for what is sublime and awful in human destiny. The narrative begins with epic calmness, but swells into a torrent, and dashes vehemently forward, when the injured queen makes a fearful return for her wrongs, and is herself swept away by the tragic powers she has called to her service. In the management of the story there are occasional traces of mediaevalism; but its spirit is that of a more primitive time, when the German tribes were breaking into the Roman empire, when passions were untamed by Christian influence, and when the necessities of a wandering and aggressive life knit closely the bonds that united the chief to his followers. Deliberate villany hardly appears in the poem; the most savage actions spring either from the unrestricted play of natural feeling, or from unquestioning fidelity to an acknowledged superior. Here and there we come upon touches which indicate that the poet who preserved the ancient legends was not incapable of appreciating finer effects than those at which he generally aims. The sketch of the hospitable and chivalrous Rüdiger, who receives the Burgundians on their way to the court of Attila, and afterwards dies while unwillingly fighting them in obedience to his queen’s command, is not surpassed in the most artistic of the mediaeval romances.

Gudrun is another epic in which a poet of this period gave form to several old legends. They had for centuries been current along the coasts of Friesland and Scandinavia, and the society they represent is essentially the same as that of the Nibelungenlied, — a society in which the men are rude, warlike, and loyal, the women independent and faithful. Although full of serious episodes, Gudrun is as happy in its ending as the greater poem is tragic; and we feel throughout that the beautiful Princess Gudrun of Seeland, whom the Northmen have carried from her home, and on whom the cruel Queen Gerlind heaps indignities, will at last be restored to King Herwig, her brave and passionate lover. The characters stand out clearly in their rough vigour; and several happy strokes call up a vision of the bleak coasts and changeful northern sea which are the scenes of their adventures.

In the 15th century a German writer brought together in a single volume which he called the Heldenbuch — the “Book of Heroes”—a number of old legendary tales that must have been frequently on the lips of the people and of the wandering minstrels, while the knightly poets were singing of Tristram or of Arthur. This work, which was partly written by Kaspar von der Rhön, will not compare in imaginative force with its more famous rivals. The most powerful of the stories is probably the “Grosser Rosengarten,” in which a monk, Ilsan, displays a very unclerical, but truly Teutonic, passion for war.

The age of chivalry was remarkable not only for its romances and epics but for its lyrics. All the leading writers of the time exercised themselves in lyrical poetry, and it was laboriously cultivated by multitudes who did not feel equal to the task of a prolonged effort. Among those who gained more or less distinction may be named Heinrich von Morungen, Reinmar der Alte, and Gottfried von Neifen. The poets of this class were known as Minnesänger, because their favourite theme was Minne or love. They began by imitating the troubadours, whose metres they often reproduced when not penetrated by the emotion which originally found in these forms a genuine expression. At a later stage it was considered a point of honour for each poet to invent a stanza of his own, whether or not those already existing were appropriate to his feeling. Thus many of the minne songs produce an impression of unreality and coldness, seeming at best to be but clever pieces of handiwork. But when the utmost deduction has been made, it is surprising how much of what wa3 achieved by these ardent writers still appeals to us. The best among them strike notes which respond in every age to a master’s touch; and they do it with a fine sense of beauty, a trained instinct for the appropriateness of words, and an evident delight both in simple and in subtle melody.

Perhaps no group of writers has ever had a deeper undertone of sadness than is to be detected in the greatest of the minnesänger. They had a vivid consciousness of the evanescence of human pleasure, an abiding feeling that corruption lurks behind the gayest forms and brightest colours. But they caught with proportional eagerness the passing rapture, letting no drop escape from the cup that would soon fall from their grasp. This intensity of feeling is reproduced in their lays, yet it was purified and generalized as it passed from the fleeting reality to the permanent realm of art. Their treatment of love, although sometimes, according to modern ideas, extravagant and fantastic, often displays genuine elevation of sentiment. They sing also in impassioned strains the loyalty of the vassal to his lord, the devotion of the Christian to his church. If they do not exhibit the soaring spiritual ambition of Wolfram’s Parzival, they have a kind of pathetic memory of a lost paradise, a vague longing, by some distant difficult service, in battle with the infidel, to attain to a world in which the discords of the present life may be forgotten or harmonized. And behind all their images is the background of nature, whose loveliness they do not the less appreciate because they refrain from elaborately describing it. To the dwellers in dreary towers winter had often a cheerless and melancholy aspect; but this made all the more enchanting the new life of spring. It is in hailing the returning warmth and colour of the young season that the minnesänger attain their happiest triumphs.

Of all the minnesänger the first place belongs without question to Walther von der Vogelweide, probably of Tyrol, whom Gottfried of Strasburg praises as heartily as he slyly depreciates Wolfram von Eschenbach. Walther lived some time at the Wartburg, and wa3 the friend of King Philip and Frederick II; he died on a little estate which the latter gave him in fief. Other Minnesänger lavished praise on generous princes; Walther was of a more manly character, and seems always to have maintained an independent bearing. Besides the usual themes of the lyrical poetry of his time, he wrote with enthusiasm of his native land; he also frequently alludes to the strife between the spiritual and secular powers, and sternly rebukes the ambition of the papacy. Beyond all his rivals he gives us the impression of writing with ease and delight. The structure of his stanzas does not hamper the movement of his feeling; it appears to provide the conditions of perfect freedom. Such a lyric as his Unter der Linden an der Heide, with its musical refrain Tandaradei, although a masterpiece of art, is exquisite in its childlike simplicity; it has the unaffected grace of a flower, the spontaneity of a bird’s song.

As the expression of all that was fantastic and ridiculous in the age of chivalry, must be mentioned the Frauendienst of Ulrich von Lichtenstein, a work which was written about the middle of the 13th century, and had a certain popularity in its time. It is an autobiography, with a number of lyrics interwoven to give variety and animation to the narrative. The solemn gravity with which the author relates the amazing tasks imposed upou him by his mistress shows how easily the worship of womanhood degenerated into almost incredible childishness. Ulrich is sometimes compared to Don Quixote, but this is to do extreme injustice to Cervantes’s hero. Amid all his illusions the fictitious knight maintains a certain pathetic dignity; the knight of reality passes from absurdity to absurdity without a touch of idealism to redeem his folly. And his lyrics are the tasteless manufacture of a thoroughly prosaic spirit.

Several of the minnesänger, Walther von der Vogelweide especially, display at times a strongly didactic tendency. From the beginning of the period this tendency was developed by writers who took little interest in poetry for its own sake, and it became more and more prominent as the purely lyrical impulse passed away. The didactic poet, however significant his labours may be to his contemporaries, has necessarily the stamp of commonplace for posterity; and the gnomic writers of the 13th century form no exception to this rule. But several of them have at least the interest that attaches to sincerity and earnestness. There is genuine enthusiasm for pure morality in the Welsche Gast of Thomasin Zerklar; and the Bescheidenheit of Freidank expresses so high a conception of duty, and expresses it so well, that the work was ascribed to Walther himself. Reinmar von Zweter and Heinrich Frauenlob came a little later, and they were followed by Hugo von Trimberg, whose Renner sets forth unimpeachable lessons in homely and satirical verses. A higher tone is perceptible in Der Winsbecke, a collection of sayings in which we find an echo of the reverence for noble women that marked the epoch at its dawn. Among didactic writings must be classed the well known Der Krieg auf der Wartburg (“The Contest at the Wartburg”). It includes the verses supposed to have been sung at a tournament of poets attended by Heinrich von Ofterdingen, Walther von der Vogelweide, and Wolfram von Eschenbach.

As Latin continued to be the speech of scholars, and the passion for metrical expression pervaded the higher classes, there was not much scope for the growth of prose. Nevertheless, it is in this age that we find the first serious attempts to secure for German prose a place in the national literature. The Sachsenspiegel and the Schwabenspiegel, two great collections of local laws, although of , a scientific character, and mainly interesting because of their social importance, had considerable influence in encouraging the respect of the Germans for their own language. The preachers, however, were the principal founders of prose style. Preaching became about the middle of the 13th century an agency of great power in the life of Germany. A number of the clergy, dissatisfied with the technicalities of scholasticism, and with the mere forms under which spiritual aspiration was often crushed, strove to attain to a fresh vision of religious truth, and to kindle their own enthusiasm in the minds of others. Of this generous band the most popular was Brother Berthold, a Franciscan monk, a man of a noble and commanding temper, and an orator of the highest rank. Love for the poor was his dominant motive, and he sometimes expressed it in language a modern socialist might envy. Having something of the imaginative glow of the minnesänger, he gave such colour to his abstract teaching as made it at once intelligible and attractive. Of a less poetical nature than Berthold, Master Eckhart, the next early master of religious prose, was more deeply philosophical. Although familiar with the scholastic systems, he broke away from their method, and became the founder of the mystical school which was one of the most potent factors in preparing the way for the Reformation. Eckhart’s reasonings are sometimes hard to follow, but he is not a confused thinker; his obscurity arises rather from the nature of his themes than from his mode of handling them. He occasionally touches profound depths in the spiritual nature of man, and it is refreshing to pass from the formal hairsplitting of the scholastic philosophers to the large conceptions of a mind which obeys its own laws and is evidently in direct contact with the problems it seeks to solve.

III. The Later Middle Age.— After the fall of the Hohenstaufen dynasty the age of chivalry in Germany virtually came to an end. The breaking up of the old duchies set free a large number of petty nobles from their allegiance to mediate lords; and as there was no longer a strong central authority, either to hold them in check or to provide them with such outlets for their energy as they had found in the crusades and in the imperial expeditions into Italy, nearly the whole class sank from the high level to which it had temporarily risen. Many knights became mere robbers, and thought themselves honourably employed in taking part in the innumerable little wars which shattered the prosperity of the nation. Men of this kind were not very likely to inherit the free and poetic spirit of Walther von der Vogelweide. In the course of the 14th and loth centuries attempts were still made by Wolkensteiu, Muskatblüt, and other writers to imitate his style; but in their hands the lyre of the minnesänger gave forth only feeble or discordant notes. For a long time the princes were no more inclined to literature than the npbles; they were too much occupied with mutual jealousies, and with incessant attempts to shake themselves free of the crown, to give heed to anything so removed from practical interests as poetry.

It so happened that during this period the cities rose to a position of higher importance than they had ever before occupied. There was a while when it even seemed possible that by their leagues, and by alliance with those emperors who had insight enough to recognize their strength, they might become the preponderating element in the state. Driven from the castles of the princes and the towers of the nobles, literature took refuge in these young and growing centres of a vigorous life. Not one or two here and there, but multitudes of honest citizens, became possessed by the desire to distinguish themselves in the arts in which they had been so much surpassed by the nobles of a previous generation. Unfortunately, they had no literary training; they were not familiar with any great models; few of them had leisure for the cultivation of style; and the character of their daily employments was not such as to kindle thoughts that demand poetic utterance. At that time every trade had its guild; and they now formed guilds of poetry, the task of whose members was in intervals of leisure to produce songs according to a body of strict rules, as in hours of business they produced shoes or loaves. The rules were called the “Tabulatur,” and the rauk of each member was determined by his skill in applying them. The lowest stage was that of a man who had simply been received into the guild; the highest, that of a master, who had invented a new melody. Between these were the scholar, the friend of the school, the singer, and the poet. Literature produced under such conditions could not have much vitality. It amused the versifiers, and developed a certain keenness in the detection of outward faults; but the spirit of poetry was wanting, and there is hardly a “meistersänger” whose name is worthy of being remembered.

Much more important than these tedious manufacturers of verse were the unknown authors of the earliest attempts at dramatic composition. In the 10th century Hroswitha, the abbess of Gandersheim, wrote Latin imitations of Terence; but they were without influence on the progress of culture. The real beginnings of the modern drama were the crude representations of scriptural subjects with which the clergy strove to replace certain pagan festivals. These representations gradually passed into the “Mysteries” or “Miracle Plays,” in which there was a rough endeavour to dramatize the events celebrated at Easter and other sacred seasons. They were acted at first in churches, but afterwards in open courts and market places; and for many hours, sometimes day after day, they were listened to by enormous audiences. The fragment of a Swiss “Mystery” of the 13th century has survived; but the earliest that has come down to us in a complete form is a play of the first half of the 14th century, treating of the parable of the ten virgins. Like those of France and England, these mediaeval German dramas display little imagination; and they are often astonishingly grotesque in their handling of the most awful themes. Along with them grew up what w ere known as “Shrove Tuesday Plays,” dialogues setting forth some scene of noisy fun, such as a quarrel between a husband and wife, with a few wise saws interspersed. They were declaimed without much ceremony in the public room of an inn, or before the door of a prominent citizen, and gave ample occasion for impromptu wit. Nuremberg seems to have been particularly fond of “Shrove Tuesday Plays,” for one of its poets, Hans Rosenblüt, who flourished about the middle of the 15th century, was the most prolific author of them. A little later he was extensively imitated by Hans Folz, a Nuremberg barber and meistersänger.

By far the most interesting writers of the 14th century were the mystics, who continued the movement started by Eckhart. Johannes Tauler of Strasburg (1300-61) had not the originality and force of his predecessor, but the ultimate mysteries of the world had an intense fascination for him, and his tender and sensitive spirit opened itself to lights which find no way of entrance into more robust and logical intellects. He did not in the main pass beyond the speculations of Eckhart, but he added grace and finish to their expression, and made them a greater popular power than they could have become through the master’s writings. Heinrich Suso, of Constance (1300-65), who has been called “the minnesangei ’ of the love of God,” made the doctrines of Eckhart an occasion for the outpourings of a full and sometimes extravagant fancy. Eckhart’s teaching was also put into shape by an unknown author, whose work was afterwards published by Luther under the title Eyn deutsch Theologia. To all these writers the phenomenal world is in its nature evil, but it is also unreal; the only reality they recognize is a world outside the limits of space and time, in union with which man rises to his true life. They are chiefly of importance in the history of speculative thought, but even from the point of view of literature they were of high service in the development of a rich and vigorous prose.

A plain narrative prose style was cultivated in the chronicles which began at this time to be written in different parts of Germany. The Limburg Chronicle written between 1336 and 1398, the Alsace Chronicle about 1386, and the Thuringian Chronicle, by Rothe, a monk of Eisenach, about 1430, have all considerable historical value; and the fact that they are in German, not like previous chronicles in Latin, proves the rising respect among the people for their native speech.

During the latter part of the 15th century there was in Germany, as in the other leading European nations, a great revival of intellectual life. And it was due to the same causes as prevailed elsewhere,—especially the rediscovery of Greek literature and the invention of printing. The movement was naturally most powerfully felt in the universities. The first of these institutions had been founded early in the 14th century by Charles IV. in Prague. Soon afterwards others were established in Vienna, Heidelberg, Cologne, and Erfurt; and in the 15th century universities were set up also in Rostock, Greifswald, Tübingen, Leipsic, and elsewhere. For a long time lav; and divinity were almost the only subjects studied; but when the Renaissance passed from Italy into Germany, university teaching became the instrument of a freer and larger culture. Scholastic philosophy fell into disrepute; the most active minds occupied themselves only with the intellectual treasures of the ancient world. The men devoted to the new studies were called “Humanists,” and they carried on continual warfare with the more ignorant and intolerant of the clergy. Unfortunately they knew nothing of the value of their own language; they wrote, as the scholastic philosophers had done, solely in Latin, and they gave but slight and contemptuous attention to the movements of popular literature.

Yet the popular literature of their time was quite worthy of study, for the stir of new life had affected not only scholars but all classes of society, citizens and even peasants included. It is surprising how many books found their way to the public between 1450 and the outbreak of the Reformation; every one seemed anxious that the newly discovered process by which writers could appeal to so wide an audience should be turned to the utmost possible advantage. Of this great mass of literature a comparatively small proportion was created in obedience to the free impulses of the intellect. The problems of the time were mainly social and practical; men were less moved by ideal interests than by questions as to the tyranny of the princes, the greed and sensuality of the clergy, the worldliness of the papacy, the powerlessness of the crown to enforce peace and order. Multitudes of little tales in prose and verse appeared, in which the princes, the nobles, the clergy, and sometimes rich citizens, were held up to ridicule. The “Shrove Tuesday Plays,” which now became extremely popular, also expressed the general discontent; and there were even “Miracle Plays” whose object was to reveal the wrongs of the people. In one of them, the leading character of which was Joanna, the mythical female pope, a clerical author did not hesitate to pour contempt on the Roman see itself.

By far the greatest of these satirical writings was the epic narrative, Revneke Fios. It has beeu already stated that the stories of “Reynard the Fox” and “Isengrim the Wolf” probably belong to prehistoric ages. They became current, through the Franks, in Lorraine and France; and from the 11th to the 15th century they formed the subject of many works in Latin, French, and German. The epic to which allusion is now made appeared in 1498, and was probably by Hermann Barkhusen, a printer of Rostock. It is in Low German, and its materials were obtained from a prose version of the tale which had appeared some years before in Holland, and of which Caxton printed an English translation. Originally, the story had no satirical significance; it was a simple expression of interest in what may be called the social life of wild animals. In the hands of the author of this Low German poem it becomes an instrument of satire on some enduring tendencies of human nature. He does not lash himself into fury at the vices he chastises; he laughs at while he exposes them. His humour is broad and frank, and he did more than any one else to make Reynard the type of the resource and cunning which overmaster not only brute force but even truth and justice. There are several renderings of the poem into High German, the most important being the well-known work of Goethe in hexameters.

Another popular satirical work was the Narrenschif (“Ship of Fools”) of Sebastian Brandt, published in Basel in 1494. It is an allegorical poem of more than a hundred sections, in which the vices are satirized as fools. This work passed through many editions, and was rendered into more than one Low German dialect, and into Latin, French, and English; it was even made the subject of a series of sermons by Geiler, of Kaisersberg, a well-known preacher of the day, who had himself some satirical talent. Brandt was personally of a mild and unassuming character, and the fact that he became a satirist in spite of himself is a striking proof of the confusion which had fallen upon both church and state. Now that the occasion of his book has passed away, it is difficult to realize that it once enjoyed almost unprecedented popularity. We cannot but feel that the writer was an honest man; but his allegories are without force or charm, and his moral lessons have been the commonplaces of every civilized society. A satirist of a bolder type was Thomas Murner, who, although he lived far into the age of the Reformation, belongs in spirit altogether to the preceding period. He was a preacher, and both in sermons and in secular writings attacked without mercy the classes who were the butts of his fellow-satirists. After the beginning of the Reformation he included Luther among the objects of his comprehensive dislikes. His laughter was loud and harsh, and can hardly have been favourable to any small buddings of charity that may have revealed themselves among the antagonisms of his generation.

One of the favourite books of this time was Tyll Eulenspiegel. It was published in 1519, and the author (probably Murner) seems to have included in it many anecdotes already well known. According to the preface, Tyll was a Brunswick peasant of the 14th century, who went about the country perpetrating practical jokes. The force of his humour mainly consists in taking every word addressed to him in its most literal sense, and in giving it applications altogether different from those intended by the speaker. There are readers who still find amusement in his rough pleasantries.

During the better part of this stirring period Maximilian I. was emperor, and he interested himself a good deal in the current literature. As in politics, however, so in poetry, his sympathies were altogether with an earlier age; and he attempted to revive the taste for mediaeval romance. From a sketch said to have been prepared by him, Melchior Pfinzig celebrated iu Theuerdanh the emperor’s marriage with Princess Mary of Burgundy. The work was splendidly printed, and attracted much notice; but romantic poetry, once so fascinating, produces in its pages the effect of an elderly coquette who, refusing to believe in the ravages of years, tricks herself out in the gay adornments of youth. An earlier book, the Weiss Kunig, an autobiography of Maximilian, written by his direction in prose by his secretary Treizsauerwein, has the excellence neither of a chrouicle nor of a romance; it is for the most part the fantastic work of a mind which misunderstood its epoch and its own powers.

Behind the strife aud noise of contending sections there was slowly growing up an admirable intellectual product of Germany,—its popular poetry. One of the earliest writers who struck the note of the popular poets was Veit Weber, a Swiss who fought with his countrymen against Charles the Bold, and who celebrated in vigorous verses the battles of Granson, Murten, and Nancy. From this time the German people had always a living poetry of their own, created by unknown authors, but caught up by the masses, passed on from village to village till it was everywhere known, and handed down by each generation to its successors. This popular poetry ultimately reflected every aspect of daily life among the humbler classes; each section among them had its appropriate lyrics, and there were songs of youth, of age, and of middle life. There is no elaboration in these offshoots of the popular fancy, but many of them have an artless beauty which touches the fountains of smiles and tears, and which had an irresistible fascination for the poets of the greatest period of German literature.

IV. The Century of the Reformation.— It is possible that if there had been no Reformation the Renaissance would have revealed itself in Germany in a great literary movement, as in France and England, or in a great artistic movement, as in Italy. The conditions of both movements were present in the labours of the humanists on the one hand, and of' the Holbeins, Albert Dürer, and Lucas Cranach on the other. But the questions of the Reformation were too profound and agitating for the mind of the nation to turn seriously to any task save that which they imposed. Thus it happened that the young shoots of the Renaissance withered almost before they were in leaf. It was settled that Germany must wait until a much later time for the full exercise of her highest energies.

In literature not less than in religion Luther (1483-1546) was the commanding spirit of the age; but he was so rather by accident than by choice. For form for its own sake he cared little; he studied it solely that he might the better produce the moral effect at which he aimed. It is hardly possible for any one to sympathize now with the violence and the dogmatism of his tracts, addresses, and sermons; but they had the high merit of addressing the nation in a language it could understand. They are always clear, simple, warm with the glow of a passionate nature; and amid their noise and fury an attentive ear will sometimes catch the still small voice of a spirit touched to finer issues than mere party warfare. “My husk may be hard,” he him3elf said, “but the kernel is soft and sweet.” We do extreme injustice to Luther if we do not recognize in him a strongly poetic element,—an element which had free play only in the best of his private letters, and in his still popular hymns. By the highest of his literary achievements, his translation of the Bible, he made a truly splendid contribution to the spiritual life of his people. No body of literature has been so fortunate in its translators as the Scriptures; and Luther’s rendering ranks with the best. Its absolute simplicity brings it to the level of a child’s understanding; its strength and grace give it an enduring place as a work of art. Germany instantly felt its charm; and for three centuries it has been to innumerable millions the supreme consoler and sanctifier, the power associated with their tenderest, most pathetic memories, the one link which has connected sordid lives with noble and sublime ideas. And for the first time it gave the nation a literary language. Up to this stage every author had written in the dialect with which he was himself familiar; henceforth for the men of Swabia, of Bavaria, of Saxony, and of all other districts there was a common speech, which the writers of each state could use without any sense of inferiority to those of another. It is thus to Luther that the Germans owe the most essential of all the conditions of a truly national life and literature.

The writer who deserves to stand next to Luther is Ulrich von Hutten (1488-1523). An accomplished humanist, he effectively attacked the enemies of the new culture in the Epistoloe Obscurorum Virorum t of which he was one of the chief writers. This was before the special work of Luther began; and at a still earlier period he had assailed in a series of fine Latin orations the tyranny of Duke Ulrich of Würtemberg, who was accused of murdering a member of Hutten’s family. He had little real sympathy with Luther’s religious aims; but he threw himself heartily into a movement by which it seemed possible to purge the state of the spiritual and secular ills which were in deadly antagonism to the progressive energy of humanism. His German writings are mainly short satirical poems and prose dialogues and addresses. Their style is direct, bold, and trenchant; but they are now in teresting mainly because of the spirit of freedom which breathes through them, the lofty political ideals of the writer, and his generous ardour for the popular welfare.

A far more voluminous author than Hutten or Luther was Hans Sachs, meistersänger of Nuremberg (1494- 1576). He was, indeed, one of the most prolific of German writers, having composed, according to his own calculation, more than 6000 poems. Although extremely popular in his own time, Sachs was almost forgotten after his death. His memory was revived by Wieland and Goethe, and he is now universally admitted to have been the chief German poet of the 16th century. Every species of verse then known he freely cultivated, and there is no important element of his age which is not touched in one or other of his works. He had little of the culture of the schools, and many of his verses are excessively rude. But Hans had considerable force of imagination, sly humour, and, in his happiest moments, a true feeling for melody. His best works are his “Shrove Tuesday Plays.” It is true he makes hardly more attempt than Rosenblüt to develop a dramatic action, but his characters have life, and in many individual scenes are artistically grouped. His didactic dialogues and satirical tales present a remarkably vivid picture of the ideas, controversies, and moral sentiments of his generation; and some of his lyrics still live in the memory of the nation. The song in which he hailed the “Wittenberg Nightingale” gave fine utterance to the reverence of the Lutherans for their chief, and in his hymn, Warum betrübst du dich, mein Herz? he so happily met the spiritual need of the day that it was soon translated into eight languages, including English, French, and Greek.

If Ilans Sachs was the most industrious poet of the century, Johann Fischart was beyond all comparison its greatest satirist. There was a distinctly Rabelaisian touch in this restless, bizarre, and effusive spirit,—a man of upright and manly character, keenly alive to the evils of his time, and continually opening fire at new points on his enemies. He was an enthusiast for the Reformation, and did it more lasting service among the middle class than half the theologians. His chief work was an adaptation of Rabelais’s Gargantua, which he rendered with an insight into its purpose, and a fulness of sympathy with its methods, unsurpassed even by Urquhart. In the poem, Das Glückhaft Schiff, he gives evidence of a faculty for stirring narrative verse, but his prose is richer, fuller, and more free. Considering how imperfectly prose style was then developed, he had an astonishing command over the resources of the language. He delighted in new and complicated word-formations, and by means of them often succeeded, while dealing with his main theme, in casting side lights on its subordinate branches. Even he, penetrating and enlightened as he was, could not rise so far above his age as to condemn the burning of witches; but hardly another popular folly escaped his glance. From the evil practices of hypocritical priests to the impudence of astrologers and weather prophets every abuse found in him a watchful critic; and nothing of the kind could be more admirable than the skill with which he excites contempt while professing to write in a spirit of respect and credulity. The secret of his poweι , lay also partly in his profound humanity, for this scathing satirist was at heart thoroughly genial; his mockery had its root in an abiding faith injustice.

Several other cultivators of prose style deserve mention. Albert Durer, whose paintings, drawings, and engravings gave to the age of transition between mediaevalism and the modern world its most perfect artistic expression, wrote several scientific treatises, one of which, on the proportions of the human body, is a masterpiece of calm, clear, and systematic exposition. Johann Thurnmeier, called Aventinus (1466-1534), Sebastian Franck (1500-45), and Aegidius Tschudi, of Glarus (1505-72), wrote histories which,' as ordered narratives, rank considerably above mere chronicles. The autobiography of Götz von Berlichingen, if its style is without merit, has an enduring interest as a sketch of the rude lives of the petty nobles at the time when the old social order was breaking up under the influence of new ideas. Huldrich Zwingli, the Swiss Reformer (1484- 1531), could state an argument with logical precision, but his style is thin and weak in comparison with the nervous force of Luther. Johann Agricola (1492-1566) wrote some theological work3 on the Catholic side; he is chiefly important, however, for a collection of German proverbs, which afford important evidence as to the currents of popular thought. Of a far higher class as a religious writer was Johann Arndt (1555-1621), who wrote the most widely read work of the 16th century, Vier Bücher vom Wahren Christenthum (“Four Books on True Christianity ”). Soon after Luther’s death the doctrines of the Reformation lost nearly all vitality; becoming the subjects of vehement controversy among contending theologians, they ceased to interest the m ιsses, who turned to simpler and more congenial themes. Arndt, like Eckhart, Tauler, and Luther himself, being a man of religious genius, saw the futility of these noisy disputes, and brushing them aside went to the heart of Christianity as a power fitted to nourish spiritual feeling and to govern conduct. His work appeared in Magdeburg in 1610, passed through edition after edition, and was translated into eleven languages. It still has a place of its own, for beneath the forms of a past age there burns the fire of a true enthusiasm. Sebastian Franck, already mentioned as a historian, wrote some religious works in a spirit akin to that of Arndt; but he lacked the intensity, the power of touching the popular mind, which was possessed by the later writer. Less practical in tendency, but incomparably deeper in philosophic thought, were the writings of the Görlitz theosophist, Jacob Boehme (1575-1624). Boehme is in many respects one of the most striking figures in the history of German speculation. A man of mild and humble temper, working in patient obscurity as a shoemaker, he spent his life in grappling with the vastest problems which perplex humanity. Starting from the dogmas of Christianity, he sought to ground them in the deepest reason; and although he often appears to darken counsel by words, yet his writings contain many bold suggestions, which have profoundly influenced later philosophical systems. There are times when one feels that his struggling thought is imperfectly uttered only because it is not expressed in poetic forms. For Boehme was one of those thinkers who occupy the borderland between philosophy and poetry, a fact often perceptible in the concrete shape which the most abstract ideas assume in his hands. There is a touch of poetry in the very title of his first and best known, although not perhaps his best, book, Aurora.

The secular poetry of this period, if we except the works of Hans Sachs and Fischart, is without value. An ambitious didactic poem by Rollenhagen, Der Frosch- mäusler, gained a certain reputation; but it stands far beneath Reineke Vos, of which it is partly an imitation. The religious lyrics of the age are, however, of high excellence; they, indeed, are the sole works in which a perfect marriage was effected between idea and form in the epoch of the Reformation. In his grand battle-hymn Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott, in his pathetic verses Aus tieffer Not schrey ich zu dir, and in other lyrics, Luther led the way; and he was, as we have seen, followed by Hans Sachs. Nicolaus Herrmann in his Erschienen ist der herrlich Tag, Paul Eber in his Wenn wir in höchsten Nöthen sein, Philip Nicolai in his Wie schön leucht uns der Morgenstern, and several other writers not less distinguished, created, in moments of genuine inspiration, lyrics which must move men while religious instincts survive. The adherents of the Reformation everywhere opened their hearts to these beautiful poems, for in them alone, not in creeds or sermons or controversial treatises, were the deepest emotions of the time freely poured forth. Next to the translation of the Bible, nothing did so much as the popular hymns to unite the Protestants, to stimulate their faith, and to intensify their courage.

During this century the drama made considerable progress. Besides the “Mysteries” and “Shrove Tuesday Plays,” “School Comedies,” in imitation of Terence and Plautus, were written and acted in the universities and public schools. Luther, with the large humanity characteristic of him when dogmatic disputes were not in question, encouraged these comedies, and was, indeed, friendly to dramatic effort of all kinds. To persons who complained that modesty was often offended by the actors he replied that if they carried out their principle they would have to refrain from reading the Bible. When the Jesuits began to agitate in opposition to Protestantism they detected at once, with their usual tact, the importance of this element in popular life; and through their influence more attention was paid not only to the plays but to the manner in which they were represented. Towards the end of the 16th century Germany was visited by a band of English comedians, who went about acting in their own language. They appear to have produced a deep impression; and at least one of their importations, the clown, the “Pickelhäring” of the Dutch, survived in Hanswurst or Jack Pudding, who was formore than a century an indispensable character in every play designed to gratify the prevailing taste. In imitation of the English comedians, wandering companies, consisting largely of idle students, now began to be formed, and thrilled both rustic and city audiences with blood-and-thunder tragedies, and with comedies too coarse to deserve even the name of farces. About the middle of the century a theatre was built in Nuremberg, and Augsburg and other cities soon followed the example. Duke Julius of Brunswick (1564-1613) not only built a theatre in his capital but maintained a permanent company; and he amused himself by writing for it comedies and tragedies in the approved style of the day.

It is significant of the stage of literary culture reached by Germany that she enjoyed the barbarous productions of this scribbling prince while English audiences were appreciating “Hamlet” and “Othello.”

V. The Period of Decay.— The period at which we have now arrived is in many respects the most dismal in German history. From 1618 to 1648 the country was desolated by the Thirty Years’ War, a struggle which—as Gustavus Adolphus, its greatest hero, declared—absorbed into itself all the other wars of Europe. It completed the disintegration of Germany, blurred every great national memory, fastened upon the people hundreds of petty despotisms, reduced the population by more than half, paused a whole generation to grow up in ignorance, accustomed all classes to an almost incredible brutality of manners, and put an end to the material prosperity which had been steadily growing during the 16th century. It is not surprising that pure literature drooped and nearly died out during the time which followed this tremendous war, for the conditions of pure literature were almost wholly wanting. Had a man of high genius arisen, the buds of his fancy must have faded for lack of light and air.

The only species of literature for which the conditions were favourable was the religious lyric. Under the pressure of grinding care, with no hope that a better day would dawn for them in this world, meditative and gentle spirits devoted their thoughts to another life; and many of them linked themselves to the truest poets of the previous century by giving musical voice to their spiritual fears and joys. Their prevailing tone in regard to “things seen” is one of profound melancholy; but all the brighter are the strange lights from the invisible which break through the gloom. The greatest of these writers is Paul Gerhardt (1606-75), many of whose hymns—such as 0 Haupt voll Blut und Wunden, 0 Welt sieh hier dein Leben— penetrate to the essence of Christianity as the religion of humility, of sacrifice, and of sorrow. He had worthy associates among the Protestants in Johann Rist (1607-67), Joachim Neander (1610-88), and Louise Henriette of Brandenburg, wife of the Great Elector (1627—67). Some of the wiser Jesuits also attempted the lyrical expression of religious feeling; and one of them, Friedrich von Spee (1592-1635), fell little short of the best among his Lutheran rivals. Spee was a man of admirable moral as well as literary qualities. Asked by the elector of Mainz how it happened that at the age of forty his hair was white, he answered, “It is because I have accompanied to the stake so many women accused of witchcraft, not one of whom was guilty.”

The standard of pure speech set up by Luther in his translation of the Bible had not been maintained by later writers. The innumerable dialects of Germany are an almost inexhaustible fountain for the renewal of the youth of her literary language; but when the literary language was less fixed than it is now, they were also a temptation to barbarism. In addition to the evils of excessive provinciality, the written speech had suffered from a too generous importation of Latin, Spanish, and French words. In the early years of the 17th century the prevailing laxity suggested to an enlightened prince, Louis of Anhalt-Köthen, that it would be desirable to introduce into Germany institutions resembling the Italian academies. Accordingly, in 1617, the “Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft” (“The Fruit-bearing Society”) was established,—a union which took the form of an order, with a palm tree for its emblem, and the words “Alles zu Nutzen” (“Everything for use”) for its motto. It immediately became fashionable for members of the highest classes of central Germany to belong to this society; and at a somewhat later time other societies were started in imitation of it. Of these the most famous was the “Order of the Pegnitzschäfer” (“Shepherds of the River Pegnitz”) in Nuremberg, which to some extent took the place of the school of meistersanger on which honour had been reflected by Hans Sachs.

These societies were associated with much pedantic folly, and from none of them proceeded any great work of genius; but they did good service by at least protesting against unlawful forms of speech. One of the earliest writers who worked in their spirit was Weckherlin (1584—1651), who, being associated with the German embassy in London, became intimately acquainted with some of the many forms in which the English genius then revealed itself. He wrote a number of odes, idylls, and sonnets, with an evident desire to give them a careful artistic finish. To him belongs the doubtful honour of having introduced alexandrines into German poetry,—a measure totally unsuited to the national spirit, but which for more than a century was in general use. The fame of Weckherlin was soon overshadowed by that of Martin Opitz (1597-1639). The beginnings of modern German poetry are often dated from the publication of his critical book, Die deutsche Poeterei, which appeared in 1624, and enjoyed an astonishing popularity. It became a sort of secular Bible to the “Fruit-bearing Society,” of which Opitz was a member, and was regarded by several generations of verse-makers as an almost infallible guide. In regard to merely outward forms, it deserved its reputation, for Opitz was the first German writer who attempted sharply to distinguish the different species of poetry, to bring together some of the external laws which govern them, and to insist with emphasis that purity of style is essential to high literary effect. He altogether missed the fact, however, that poetry must be the expression of an emotional life; it became in his exposition a mere handicraft, for excellence in which industry and familiarity with good models are alone necessary. The result is seen in his own lyrical and didactic poems, which are laudably correct in language and in metre, but are hardly once lighted up by the fire of intense feeling.

Opitz was born in Silesia; and from this circumstance the writers who shared his tendency or came under his influence are known as the first Silesian school. By far the most distinguished member of this so-called school was Paul Fleming (1609-40), the only secular German poet of the 17th century of whom it can be confidently said that he was endowed with true genius. He did not live long enough to reveal his full capacity; he confined himself to short rapid flights, and all his lyrics are contained in a moderately sized volume, Geistliche und Weltliche Poemata. This single volume, however, comprises enough to secure for him an enduring place in literature. He moves freely over the whole range of lyrical poetry, but his charm is at once strongest and most delicate in his love verses, which sometimes recall the gaiety of Herrick, although a touch of sentimentalism distinguishes the German writer from the more worldly Englishman. A fine spirit of manliness is the note of Fleming’s sonnets; and in several hymns he almost equals the religious depth of Gerhardt. Even in its artistic qualities his best work is higher than anything achieved by Opitz; in its power of awakening permanent human sympathies it stands alone in its era.

Another writer of the first Silesian school was Andreas Gryphius (1616-64), who sought to create a drama in accordance with the laws laid down by Opitz. He was the first German dramatist who divided his tragedies—of which he wrote five—into five acts; but his characters are roughly conceived, and he produces his effects rather by violence and bombast than by the gradual evolution of a definite plan.

His comedies, although also rude, have more life than his tragedies. In one of them, Peter Squenz, there are traces of Shake3peare , s Midsummer Night’s Dream, of which Gryphius appears to have had some knowledge through a third writer. Friedrich von Logau (1604-55) applied the principles of Opitz in epigram. He had a decided talent for terse, emphatic expression, and a considerable number of the vast collection of his epigrams have a keenness of edge which must have made him a dreaded enemy. His prevailing tone is satirical, and the chief object of his satire is the moral corruption of his time. Joachim Rachel (1618-69) was another satirist who strove by means of polished verses to castigate popular vices; but he lacked force and invention. There was much more vigour in the Scherzgedichte of Hans Wilmsen Lauremberg (1591-1659), who wrote in Platt Deutsch; he, however, can hardly be claimed as a member of the first Silesian school. Philip von Zesen (1619-89), a writer of some versatility, wrought in the spirit of Opitz by warring against foreign words which had intruded into German,—a warfare in which his zeal was not always as wise as it was patriotic. He founded in Hamburg, in imitation of the “Fruit-bearing Society,” an association (the “Deutschgesinnte Gesellschaft ”) inspired by his enthusiasm for Teutonic purity of speech.

While the admirers of Opitz were striving, with the best intentions, to introduce a correct poetic style, a movement of a very different kind originated among the “Pegnitzschäfer” of Nuremberg. The members of this society, conscious of the barrenness of existing poetry, and not feeling in themselves the sources of a higher activity, turned for help to Italian literature. Instead of studying the great Italian poets they attached themselves to Marino and his extravagant school; and the chief result was a number of fantastic pastorals, the writers of which seemed to have no other aim than to show how much silly affectation the German language may be made to express. Their tendency was carried to its utmost development by the second Silesian school, whose leading representatives were Hoffmanns waldau (1618-79) and Lohenstein (1635-83). Hoffmannswaldau wrote odes, pastorals, and heroic epistles, which are marked by a childish foppery of manner, and whose tone affords startling evidence of the moral laxity of the society to which they were addressed. Lohenstein chiefly cultivated the drama, and he has the distinction of having written perhaps the worst plays ever accepted as literature by a modern community. They are so wild and bombastic that, even if presented as burlesques, they would now be condemned as ridiculously extravagant. The lyrics of this pretentious writer are not less crude and unnatural than his plays.

As the century advanced, the German courts passed more and more under the influence of France. Pocket editions of Louis XIV. were to be found in all the little capitals, courtiers talked more French than German, and it was unfashionable not to know, or not to affect to know, contemporary French literature. It was, therefore, inevitable that some writers should turn away from the path of the second Silesian school, and compete for court favour by imitating the French style. This was done by Canitz (1654-99), Besser (1654-1729), König (1688-1744), and many other authors of the same class. These “court poets” took Boileau for their guide, and had, therefore, the negative merit of avoiding the absurdities of Lohenstein and Hoffmannswaldau. But they were, as a rule, tame, cold, and dull. In Canitz alone, who was a Prussian statesman and wrote for his pleasure, is there any evidence of original energy; the others were professional versifiers who produced appropriate odes and sonnets at the bidding of their employers.

During the greater part of the 17th century Germany produced few prose works that can now be tolerated. Notwithstanding the efforts of the purists, the language became more and more corrupt, and mo3t writers were either artificial, or pedantic, or coarse. One of the small number whose power we can still feel was Grimmelshausen, whose Simplicissimus (1659) has qualities bordering upon genius. The hero is a peasant’s son, who tells his own tale. Torn from his parents during the Thirty Years’ War, he is brought up by a hermit; afterwards in the service of a commandant, he makes himself notorious for tricks like those of Tyll Eulenspiegel; he then becomes a soldier, rises to wealth and rank, but ultimately loses both, passes through many wild adventures, and retires from the world to a desert island, in which he devotes himself to religion. The value of the book consists in its graphic pictures of the horrors of the Thirty Years’ War,—pictures relieved by touches of rough, sometimes of the coarsest, humour. Another writer of great but insufficiently cultivated talent was Moscherosch, author of Gesichte Philanders von Sittewalt (1650), which is partly an imitation of the Suenos of Quevedo. It is made up of a number of visions or dreams, some of which, like passages of Simplicissimus, convey a vivid idea of the sufferings of Germany during her great struggle; in others the writer strikes with effect at popular follies, including the extravagances of the second Silesian school. Sigmund von Birken wrote a history of the house of Austria, which, although one-sided, is not without merit as a plain narrative; and an ecclesiastical history by Gottfried Arndt has some interest as an attempt to do justice to heretics condemned by the church. A very good book of travels was written by Adam Olearius, describing the adventures of a mission to Persia, of which the author and Paul Fleming were subordinate officials. A Protestant pastor, Balthasar Schupp (1610-61), was the author of several didactic prose works, which, although rough in form, display native wit, and pour wholesome ridicule on the follies and barbarisms of contemporary writers. Against these more or less valuable prose writings we must set piles of enormous romances in the style of D’Urfé and Mademoiselle Scudéry. The favourite authors of these astonishing productions were Buchholtz, who wrote Hercules und Valisca, and Herculiscus und Herculadisla; Anton Ulrich, duke of Brunswick, whose Octavia was loudly applauded by aristocratic readers; and Von Ziegler, the writer of The Asiatic Banise, an incredibly foolish book which, published in 1688, took Germany by storm, and maintained its popularity for more than a generation. Lohenstein was also the author of a romance, dealing with the fortunes of Arminius and Thusnelda. It is hard to understand the interest which works of this class once excited; they are barren of every imaginative quality, with no kind of relation to life, and grotesque in style. They were ultimately driven from the field by imitations of Robinson Crusoe, which, notwithstanding the charm of their model, display no more talent than the romances. Various writers imitated Simplicissimus, but they succeeded only in reproducing in an exaggerated form its occasional brutalities. Abraham a Sancta Clara (1642-1709), a Vienna priest, whose real name was Megerlin, revealed considerable power of satire in his Judas der Erzschelm (“Judas the Arch-Rogue”), and in pamphlets and sermons; but his naturally rich fancy was wholly uncontrolled, and his humorous passages are marred by a far larger number in which he is pedantic or vulgar.

No progress was made during the 17th century towards the formation of a national drama. At the courts the Italian opera was the favourite entertainment, and the wandering companies of actors represented for the most part barbarous plays of their own devising, in which Hanswurst was generally the popular character. Occasionally a man of some talent found his way into these companies; and one such actor, Velthen, showed so much insight as to include in his repertory some of the works of Molière. But the general tendency of what passed for the drama was from bad to worse, and the usual character of the plays to a considerable extent justified the hatred with which they were denounced by the clergy.

For a time it almost seemed as if Germany could never hope to emerge from the intellectual degradation into which she had sunk; but in reality the higher forces of the nation were rallyiug in preparation for a new era. One of the first symptoms of revival was presented by the remarkable pietistic movement, which, although it ultimately led to the formation of the pettiest of petty sects, was in its origin noble both in aim and in method. Its originators were the ardent, generous, and eloquent Jacob Spener (1633— 1705), and August Hermann Francke (1663-1727). The labours of these writers and preachers, who had close affinity to the mystics, not only gave more sincerity to religious forms, but did service to literature by quickening the popular intellect, and awakening emotions which could find no satisfaction in the tedious writings of the day. Of still greater importance were the beginnings of modern German philosophy. It was in this dreary period that Germany gave birth to one of the most brilliant of her thinkers, Leibnitz (1646-1716). The prevailing style of the day-— “Mischmasch,” he called it—seems to have disgusted him with his own language, for nearly all his writings are in French or Latin. Nevertheless, he exercised a profound influence on the best minds of his generation. His monadology, his doctrine of the pre-established harmony, his theory of the best of possible worlds, while carrying on the central current of European thought, offered Germauy new problems for solution, and helped to replace a rigid orthodoxy by a spirit of disinterested curiosity. The task of giving shape to his ideas was undertaken by Wolf (1679— 1754), who had none of Leibnitz’s genius, and often crushed his fruitful suggestions under a burden of logical proofs. The disciple, however, so far taught in his master’s spirit as to exalt the claims of reason over mere authority; he aLso encouraged habits of systematic thinking, and proved by his practice that serious writers had no excuse for clothing their doctrines in any other language than their own. Less philosophical than Leibnitz, and even than Wolf, Christian Thomasius (1655-1728) was an impressive popular thinker. He edited the first German periodical, a sort of monthly magazine, in which he vigorously attacked pedants and bigots. His style, although not pure or graceful, received glow and warmth from his moral earnestness. Through him literature became a great practical power, for it was mainly he who put an end to the burning of witches and to punishment by torture.

Even in poetry, before the close of this period, there were a few glimmerings of dawn. Wernicke, a man of cultivated and severe taste, published a volume of epigrams (1697) in which he thrust home at the follies of Lohenstein and his followers; and that his mockery had effect was plain from the outcry of two noisy members of the school, Postel and Hunold. Günther (1695-1723), who died too soon for his genius, wrote lyrics in which the voice of nature was once more heard. “A poet in the full sense of the word,” Goethe calls him; and no one can realize how great was his achievement without making some acquaintance with his truly dismιl predecessors. Brockes (1680-1747) had not Günther’s fine spontaneity, but he had the merit of giving simple expression to unaffected pleasures,—a virtue for which historians of literature, remembering the formality of the court poets and the insincere posturing of the second Silesian school, readily forgive his occasional flatness and garrulity. He was the first German poet who displayed some knowledge of English literature. Although unacquainted with Shakespeare, he directed his countrymen to Milton, Young, and Pope; and he appended to his chief work, Irdisches Vergnügen in Gott, a fair translation of Thomson’s Seasons.

VI. The Period of Revival.— For five centuries there had been no great literary period in Germany which deserves to be named with the famous periods in the history of England, France, Italy, and Spain. The Reformation was a spiritual achievement of splendid originality, but in literature Germany had for the most part followed timidly in the footsteps of her neighbours. She was soon to make up amply for this tardy progress; and we have now reached the age in which she fairly awoke to a consciousness of her strength,—an age mainly of preparation, but one which has also an independent interest, since it includes names that rank high in the history of European as well as of German culture. We have seen that in the midst of the period of decay there were already symptoms of revival. These became more and more numerous, and while they increased, Germany was suddenly startled by the appearance in her midst of a great warrior and statesman. It is impossible to estimate with any approach to exactness the impression produced by Frederick II.; but it is beyond doubt that he profoundly affected the intellectual life not only of Prussia but of Germany. After the Thirty Years’ War the people had lost confidence in themselves. They forgot that they had a magnificent history; they only saw that the structure of society had been rudely battered, and that nearly every enterprise of the nation as a whole ended in failure. Frederick the Great restored to them faith in their own vigour; he convinced them that it depended on themselves whether or not they should rise to their ancient place in Europe; and by the prompt, faithful, and energetic discharge of his personal duties he set before them an example which was widely felt. Literature shared the impulse which penetrated the national life. It became stronger, more independent, and moved forward with the assured step of a power conscious of high destinies.

Several causes of a purely literary character contributed to promote this advance. One of these was the revival of classical study in the best sense. Classical study had been pursued with ardour by the humanists; but after them it became dry, pedantic, and tedious, and was subordinated to theological controversy. In the 18th century a number of scholars arose, who, ceasing to interest themselves in merely verbal criticism, sought to pierce to the meaning of classical writers, to understand and enjoy their imagi native effects, their ideas, and their style. They also strove to construct what the Germans call “Alterthumswissenschaft,” the science of antiquity—that is, to comprehend the life of the Greeks and Romans, their religion, art, and philosophy, and to interpret their literature in the light of this knowledge. The movement passed from one university to another and soon made itself felt in the public, schools. Thus the best class of minds were familiarized with higher ideals than they had yet known, and received, almost without being aware of it, the germs of new activity. Another cause, which co-operated with the more intelligent study of the classics, was acquaintance with English literature. Hitherto the foreign influences which had affected the Germans had come from Italy, Spain, and, above all, France; but now they began to know something of contemporary English writers, and gradually worked their way back to Shakespeare. The English genius was instinctively recognized as more in harmony with that of Germany than any other, and its products stimulated the free exercise of the imagination and the reason, while the ancient classics led to the perception of the greatest laws of form.

Among the poets who helped to effect the revival of a truly national literature a place of honour belongs to Haller (1708-77), who, although chiefly famous as a man of science, revealed imagination and poetic sympathies in his descriptive and didactic poem Die Alpen (“The Alps”). Hagedorn (1708-54) was for a time the most popular poet of his day in virtue of his songs, odes, fables, and narratives in verse. He was of a genial and happy temper; and no author who preceded him was master of so clear, bright, and animated a style. One of the chief characteristics of the time was the tendency of writers to group themselves in schools. If two or three writers who lived in the same place happened to become friends, they forthwith called themselves a school; and the result was that they usually developed some marked common characteristics. These coteries inevitably became more or less narrow and exclusive; but they also stimulated each other to fresh effort, and the clash of their ideals sometimes helped the outside world to new points of view. The Saxon school, whose headquarters were in Leipsic, was for some years more prominent than any of its rivals. It was founded by Gottsched (1700-66), who, although he made himself ridiculous by pedantry and vanity, became the ruling literary man of Germany. He was appointed a professor in Leipsic in 1724, and founded there “The German Society,” which soon became the centre of a number of similar bodies for the cultivation of literature. Gottsched aimed at nothing short of the complete reformation of German poetry. He had the sense to see that if he wished to reach the people he must begin with the drama, and he was fortunate enough to find in Frau Neuber, who had formed a company in Leipsic, an intelligent actress capable of giving effect to his ideas. With her help he banished Hanswurst from the stage; and she was forthwith supplied with plays by himself, by his clever wife Louisa Victoria, and by several disciples. He gave his attention chiefly to tragedy, and unfortunately he had but one idea in regard to it—that it had reached the utmost possible excellence in the classic drama of France. The English drama, he admitted, had some merit, but only in so far as it had modelled itself on the work of Corneille and Racine. Hence, in his chief tragedy Der Sterbende Cato (“The Dying Cato”) he availed himself freely of Addison’s Cato; the Elizabethan dramatists, of whom his direct knowledge was slight, he believed to be mere barbarians. His taste gave the law in nearly every theatre in which German plays were acted; and it was certainly a good consequence that Lohenstein fell into permanent disrepute, while even the groundlings began to feel that the uncouth works which actors themselves had hitherto produced were, to say the least, far from perfection. On the other hand, the German genius was forced to submit to arbitrary laws antagonistic to its true nature; and so long as its submission lasted, a genuinely native drama was impossible. It was not only in regard to drama that Gottsched insisted on absolute subservience to France. In regard to all species of verse his sympathies were with the court poets, and both by example and by critical precept he insisted that in poetry as in everything else the understanding must be supreme, and that clearness of statement, correctness in the management of figures, and logical arrangement are the highest literary virtues. Regarding the function of imagination and feeling in poetry he had no suggestion to offer.

There were writers who instinctively felt that this could not be a complete theory; and of these the chief were Bodmer and Breitinger, the leaders of the Swiss school, which was formed in Zürich. These writers, although destitute of creative genius, had nourished their imagination on English poetry, especially on Paradise Lost, and it was incredible to them that a critical doctrine could be correct which left out of account or condemned their favourite writers. At first they were on friendly terms with Gottsched, but when the latter harshly criticized a translation of Milton’s epic issued by Bodmer, his Swiss rivals prepared to defend themselves; and thus broke out a literary controversy which made much noise at the time, and in which the angry critics, to the edification of onlookers, pelted each other unmercifully with abusive epithets. Neither party was fully conscious of the significance of its attack, and sometimes the warriors seemed almost to change sides. But the general tendency of the dispute was that the Swiss school, amid much exaggeration, defended the claims of free poetic impulse, while the Saxon school, in a narrow and pedantic spirit, maintained those of conscious art. It is hard werk now to follow their arguments, but at the time they interested a considerable public in literature, and opened fresh lines of investigation. One of the results was that Baumgarten, a disciple of Wolf, published a book which Germans regard as the beginning of modern aesthetics,—a branch of mental science to which their philosophers have ever since devoted thought and labour.

While this warfare of critics was going on, there were in Leipsic a number of young writers who more or less attached themselves to Gottsched, but who gradually shook off his authority. They founded a periodical, the Bremer Beiträge (the “Bremen Contributions ”), which had considerable influence in forming their own style, and in keeping alive the popular interest excited by the central controversy. After a while many of them were scattered over different parts of Germany, but they retained their original impulse, and continued to be known as members of the Saxon school. Gellert (1715- 69) was by far the most famous of the circle. It is impossible to mention without respect this amiable writer. His plays are unimportant, but his fables and tales reveal so gentle and pure a spirit that we cannot wonder at his great popularity. He was a favourite among all classes, even Frederick the Great himself, who rarely condescended to notice a German author, declaring after a long interview that he was “the most reasonable of German scholars.” His supreme defect was a tendency to weak sentimentalism and pious commonplace. Rabener (1714-71) acquired fame as a good-humoured satirist. His prose is fresh and clear, but he has not sufficient grasp of any important principle to entitle him to very high rank among moralists. Christian Felix Weisse (1726-1804), the friend of Lessing’s youth, failed as a writer of tragedy, but was a favourite author of comic operettas. He was also the first successful German writer for children, and edited for many years a periodical (the Bibliothek der schonen Wissenschaften) which had a favourable influence on popular culture. Johann Elias Schlegel (1718-49), uncle of the two Schlegels who became long afterwards leaders of the Romantic school, gave evidence of high dramatic talent, but died when he was beginning to be conscious of his power. Arnold Ebert distinguished himself by good translations from English; and Zachariä wrote with some success mock heroics in the style of The Pape of the Lock. Kästner, whose disputations at the Leipsic university were diligently attended by young Lessing, made himself feared as a biting epigrammatist. Cramer became one of the most eloquent preachers of the day, wrote popular religious odes, and edited The Northern Guardian, a well-meaning but rather commonplace imitation of the Guardian of Steele. These writers, who from being Gottsched’s friends all became more or less hostile to him, have a clearness and grace of style which were unknown in the previous century. Another author who was from the beginning Gottsched’s enemy, but who had no relation with this particular school, may be here mentioned,-—Liscow (1701-60).

His prose has nerve and animation, and few satirists have dealt severer blows at literary pretence.

The Halle school of poets was in some respects different both from the Saxon and the Swiss schools. Its original members were Gleim (1719-1803), Uz (1720-96), and Götz (1721-81). These three writers formed a friendship in their student days at Halle, where they came under the influence of the poets, Pastor Lange, and the tutor of his children, Immanuel Pyra, ardent disciples of Bodmer and Breitinger. The young students, while feeling sincere respect for the Swiss critics, did not attempt any very serious flight; they preferred to amuse themselves with lively little anacreontic verses, which they soon brought into high repute. Afterwards Gleim settled in Halberstadt, where he lived to an extreme age. His didactic poem Halladat, which he wrote, he himself modestly explained, in order to gratify a wish of his youth to produce a book like the Bible, has no vitality; but during the Seven Years’ War he composed TΓαr Songs of a Grenadier, which were everywhere read, and have not yet lost their popularity. They were edited by Gleim’s friend Lessing, who, however, protested against their patriotic vehemence. Gleim was one of the most kindly of men, and became the patron of young poets, several of whom he always had in his pleasant bachelor’s home. He also kept up an extensive correspondence with other writers·, which is now an important source of information respecting the movements of contemporary literature. One of his most intimate friends, who resembled him only in geniality of disposition, was the noble-hearted Ewald Christian von Kleist (1715-59), who was fatally wounded on the battle-field of Kunersdorf. He would still deserve to be remembered as the man whom, of all others, the equally noble Lessing most loved. His descriptive poem Frühling (“ Spring ”) is partly an imitation of Thomson; but it is also the work of an independent lover of nature, who knew how to give beautiful utterance to true and simple feeling. Ramler (1725-98), another friend of Gleim, and the friend, too, of Kleist and Lessing, wrote spirited odes in Horatian metres, which, like the War Songs of a Grenadier, gave pleasure because of their strongly patriotic tone,—the direct result in both cases of Frederick’s influence. Anna Louisa Karsch (1722-91), a poetess who owed much to Gleim’s goodness, was a favourite among the literary men of the day, butj her verses are ruder than they ought to have been at so late a date. Idyllic poetry, which Kleist and Götz to some extent cultivated, was taken up in earnest by Solomon Gessner (1730-87), whose prose idylls, The Death of Abel, The First Sailor, and others, were translated into French and English, and were better received in their foreign dress than in their original form. They are written in an easy style, and express much harmless although somewhat tedious sentiment. He was imitated by Xaver Bronner, a Catholic priest, whose idylls have not half the merit of his autobiography, which affords remarkable insight into the religious life of Catholic Germany about the middle of the 18th century.

The religious lyric, which had shared the general decay during the latter half of the 17th century, displayed more vitality during part of this period. It owed its fresh life mainly to the pietists, who reopened fountains of spiritual feeling that had been apparently dried up by theologians. Among the best of this younger generation of hymn writers were Freylinghausen, Neumeister, and Tersteegen. Their fame was, however, less extensive than that of Count von Zinzendorf (1700-60), the founder of the sect of Herrnhiiter or Moravian Brethren. Besides hymns he wrote religious works in prose, and made himself one of the most prominent figures of his time by ardent missionary zeal. His followers, like all deeply religious sects in Germany, delighted in hymns; and many of those they produced are remarkable for the sensuous, sometimes almost sensual, forms in which their emotions are expressed.

Fables were at this time an extremely popular class of writings, and nearly every imaginative writer sought to distinguish himself as a fabulist. The Swiss school, indeed, in their zeal for a combination of the wonderful and the useful in literature, maintained that the fable was the highest type of literature. As a rule, Lafontaine was taken as the model in works of this kind, but we look in vain among his German imitators for his exquisite grace and naïveté Gellert stands at the head of the more sentimental fabulists; after him may be named Willanow and Lichtwer. The latter (1719-83) has humour as well as sentiment, and some of his fables have an artistic finish that indicates a faculty by which he might have won distinction in more important labours.

From about the middle of the 18th century onwards a number of prose writers, who may be classed together as popular philosophers, worked effectively for the enlightenment of ordinary readers. They attached themselves to some extent to Wolf; they also came under the influence, although not in any great degree, of the French Encyclopedists; and they were admiring students of the English deists, and of Locke, Shaftesbury, and Hutcheson. They are often condemned for the shallowness of their thought; and if we compare them with the great thinkers who followed them, the condemnation is just. They did not grasp the significance of the problems which had been handed down by Descartes, Spinoza, and Leibnitz, with which Hume was now grappling, and which were soon to enter upon a new phase in the critical philosophy of Kant. In regard to religion they had a very imperfect appreciation of every'element that could not be expressed in clear logical statements; feeling and imagination were rigidly subordinated to the understanding. And they had not even a remote suspicion of what is now familiar as the historical spirit, so that they displayed amazing narrowness of vision in their treatment of past spiritual developments, and of contemporary creeds with which they did not happen to agree. But if we are to do justice to these popular philosophers, they must be compared rather with their predecessors than with their successors. An important place belongs to them in the movement by which vital human interests have been raised above theological disputes, by which morality has received a basis independent of dogmatic religion, and by which toleration has been secured for men of every faith. They were penetrated by a truly humane sentiment; and it must be counted a high merit that in a country which had been more or less dominated by pedants, and whose great writers of a later age have not always attempted to be both profound and clear, they sought to express themselves in unpretending and straightforward German. The chief of the popular philosophers was Moses Mendelssohn (1729-86), not a deep or massive thinker, but a man of fine moral sympathies, an enthusiast for freedom—from the lack of which he himself, as a Jew, keenly suffered—and an incisive psychological analyst. His friend, Frederick Nicolai (1733-1811), the Berlin bookseller, had the misfortune to outlive his epoch. He had only words of contempt for Goethe and Schiller; and Kant, whom he did not profess to understand, seemed to him a sort of cross between a bungler and an impostor. These terrible mistakes have made poor Nicolai, notwithstanding his lifelong warfare against bigotry, the type of a narrow-minded bigot. Yet in his earlier days he was recognized by such a judge as Lessing, with whose friendship he was honoured, as a writer of talent. And his Bibliothek (“Library ”), the most important literary periodical of his day, did excellent service by providing the popular philosophers with a medium for the expression of their opinions on all the great questions which then agitated Germany. Other popular philosophers were George Sulzer (1720-79), who devoted himself to aesthetics in the spirit of the Swiss school, but with the advantage of later lights; Thomas Abbt (1738-66), whose style was one of uncommon vigour; Christian Garve (1742-98), who did not attempt any great original work, but in letters and articles examined many individual philosophic questions from new points of view; and Johann Jacob Engel (1741-1802), whose Philosoph für die Welt (“Philosopher for the World”) interested a class of readers who would have been unable to follow a more adventurous guide. Zimmermann (1728— 95) hardly deserves to be mentioned in such good company; but his Betrachtungen über die Einsamkeit (“Observations on Solitude ”) by its sentimentalism and rhetoric carried his name far beyond the bounds of Germany. Some theologians, without exactly sharing the beliefs of the popular philosophers, were profoundly affected by them. Among these were Mosheim, the ecclesiastical historian; Spalding, the translator of Shaftesbury; and Jerusalem, the father of the young writer whose suicide suggested some elements in Goethe’s Werther. These liberal theologians did not hold a very intelligible logical position, but they were of some importance by their attempts to introduce a freer and more polished style of eloquence than had hitherto marked the German pulpit. In regard to the permanent movements of thought, their influence was greatly inferior to that of Michaelis and Semler, whose labours heralded the approach of modern Biblical criticism.

In history Germany produced at this time at least one writer of high eminence, Justus Möser (1720-94), author of the Osnabrückische Geschichte (“History of Osnabrück ”) and Patriotische Phantasien (f Patriotic Fancies ’’). Möser was the first German historian who wrote a good style and attempted to penetrate to the meaning of events and to present them in the light of great principles. He also produced a strong impression by his enlightened patriotism and by his burning scorn of wrong. Schröck and Schlözer were prominent historians, and the latter made himself known as a clear writer on contemporary politics. Karl von Moser, of Stuttgart, applied to political subjects a faculty for wit and satire that was estimated highly in his own day. *

It has been already stated that the revival of classical study was one of the chief causes by which the mind of Germany was awakened to new effort. Professors Christ and Ernesti, of Leipsic, who were the favourite teachers of many young students, including Lessing, were two of the chief writers to whom this revival was due. Incomparably greater than either, however, was Johann Joachim Winckelmann (1717-68), whose History of Ancient Art (1764) opened a new era in the appreciation of ancient life. Later investigation has corrected Winckelmann on many points, but no critic has displayed a keener feeling for the beauty and the significance of such works as came within his knowledge, or a truer imagination in bridging over the gulfs at which direct knowledge failed him. And his style, warm with the glow of sustained enthusiasm, yet calm, dignified, and harmonious, was worthy of his splendid theme. What he did for ancient art was to some extent done for ancient literature by the untiring editorial labours of Christian Gottlob Heyne (1729-1812).

Important as were many of these writers, Winckelmann above all, they exercised slight influence on the national mind compared with the three men whom the Germans justly regard as the founders of their classical literature— Klopstock (1724-1803), Wieland (1733-1813), and Lessing (1729-1781).

Klopstock stood in direct relation to the Swiss writers. When a pupil at Schulpforta, one of the great Saxon schools which sent forth many of the best authors of the day, he was a diligent student of Bodmer, by whose critical principles he guided himself in reading Homer, Virgil, and Milton. The Messiah, on which his fame mainly rests, is now little read, and it is impossible even to glance through it without becoming conscious of glaring faults. Klopstock’s genius was essentially lyrical; he lacked the plastic force of imagination necessary for a great epic. His central figure is nowhere presented in clear sharp outlines; it wavers between two distinct conceptions, that of a divine and that of a human character. And the facts to which he turns our gaze in the crisis of his narrative are not such as kindle the deepest sympathies; he exhausts the powers of language to convey an impression of the Messiah’s sufferings, but we hear nothing of the qualities of soul which these sufferings rouse into action. The subordinate characters are innumerable, and except Abaddona, a repentant fallen angel, between whose character and whose fate there is an effective contrast, none of them can be said to live; they exist only as an excuse for the utterance of Klopstock’s feelings. They talk incessantly, weep, embrace, and kiss, but they never do anything that exhibits more than a vast quantity of obtrusive sentiment. Notwithstanding its obvious defects, however, the Messiah has qualities which must still command admiration; it reveals a nature full of lofty aspiration and deep humanity, and it contains individual images of striking force and beauty.

It would be difficult to imagine anything more dreary than Klopstock’s plays, the subject of three of which is Arminius, while the others deal with scriptural themes. He knew enough neither of life nor of the stage to be a true dramatist; his characters are mere names, and the incidents are grouped according to no principle of art. His odes, which he continued to write from the beginning to the end of his long career, are of far higher excellence. Those which derive their inspiration from Northern mythology are too remote from general sympathy and too obscure in construction to awaken interest; but the stamp of genius is upon several of the lyrics in which he expresses his passionate feeling for the grander phenomena of nature, his ardent patriotism, his enthusiasm for freedom, and his elevated sense of human worth and destiny. Both as an epic poet and as a writer of odes he had many imitators, who, like most others of their class, exaggerated the defects of their model and left his virtues alone. His influence upon the intellectual life of Germany was deep, and, on the whole, beneficent. He encouraged the self-respect of his countrymen, intensified their desire for an independent literature, and by handling high themes, sometimes powerfully, alwayβ seriously, suggested that the national imagination would reveal its full capacity only by undertaking greater enterprises than any it had yet attempted.

Although Klopstock was one of the central literary figures during two generations, he was not a prolific writer; Wieland, on the other hand, was one of the most prolific of German authors. He was continually at his desk, and in the course of his career produced a considerable library. Of his many works the romantic poem Oberon is by far the most famous, and the only one that really pleases modern readers. Agathon is perhaps the best of the prose romances in which he endeavoured to depict ancient Greek life. He was not endowed with great vividness of imagination, and his prevailing tendency is to extreme diffuseness; but some of his descriptive passages, especially those in Oberon, have a touch of ideal grace which enables us to return to them with fresh relish. He had a fine appreciation of style, and by the study of Greek and French masterpieces persistently strove to acquire lightness, clearness, and ease. Even yet few German writers will compare with him in these qualities. In all his works he had a strongly didactic tendency, but his teaching was the opposite of that inculcated by most modern writers who deliberately aim at ethical effect. Above all, he differed from his great contemporary, Klopstock. Writing at first as a strict pietist, he ultimately became a pronounced Epicurean in the popular sense, and made it his object to proclaim an Epicurean theory of life, discouraging enthusiasm, laughing at such aspirations as those of his own youth, exalting the claims of the senses, and placing the highest virtue, in kindliness and good humour. This tendency often conducts him to more slippery ground than any on which a German writer of his standing would now venture; but it also gives him innumerable occasions for the play of a gentle and refined irony.

Whatever may be the excellences of Wieland and Klopstock, both are essentially writers of the past. This cannot be said of Lessing, the third great German of this period; he is still a living influence. He is, indeed, the only writer before Goethe whom Germans can now read without feeling themselves in a world foreign to their sympathies. Throughout his career he strove to renew and fructify the intellectual life of his nation, and he achieved his aim by important creative activity, and by the clearest, freest, and most drastic criticism of the 18th century.

As an imaginative writer he was chiefly distinguished in the drama, and his most important dramatic work is Minna von Barnhelm. If it cannot be said that this is, in the highest sense, a comedy of genius, it is at any rate a comedy which contains elements of permanent interest. The characters are vividly presented; the plot is systematically, yet naturally, unfolded; the dialogue is clear, fresh, and animated. And the work has the high merit of giving artistic shape to elements taken by the dramatist from the living world around him. Emilia Galotti is marred by a deep flaw in the conception of the central figure; but every other character in the tragedy is conceived with bold imaginative force, and it is possible for a competent actress to sotten, if not to harmonize, even the clashing elements in Emilia herself. No drama making even a distant approach to the excellence of these two plays had been produced in Germany; they thus gave literature in its highest department a fresh start.

But valuable as were Lessing’s imaginative creations, they were inferior to his labours as a thinker. Here he was absolutely supreme among his contemporaries; and in some respects he has not since been surpassed. His method is invariably critical, but he aims at rising to the highest, most universal aspects of every subject with which he deals. As a master of style he ranks with the greatest European writers. The structure of his sentences is clear, precise, and compact; and he keeps the mind awake by vivid images drawn from nature and from human life, by interesting, sometimes remote, allusions, by rapid strokes of wit, and by unexpected turns of thought, as if he were abandoning his main theme, while he is in reality indirectly advancing it. He has often been called the most critical of poets; it would be equally just to call him the most poetical of critics.

The greatest of Lessing’s purely critical writings is Laocoon, a fragment, but a fragment containing the germs of much of the best thought of his own and the immediately succeeding generations. It has an enduring value as the first serious and great attempt to distinguish sharply the realms of art and poetry, and to foster both by subjecting each to its own laws. Next in importance stands his Hamburgische Dramaturgie, a series of criticisms on plays represented at the Hamburg National Theatre. By these splendid criticisms, which are based in the main on Aristotle’s Poetics, with many side-references to Diderot’s theories, he put an end to the abject submission of dramatic writers to French traditions. In his later years he issued the Wolfenbüttel Fragments, portions of a theological work by Reimarus, a deistical writer of admirable force and clearness. He thus became involved in a hot controversy with indignant professors and pastors, the noisiest of whom was Pastor Goeze of Hamburg. The tracts issued by Lessing in the course of this controversy are in form among the most perfect of his writings; they are at once learned, keen, and witty. And in the history of Western thought they are of deep significance. His immediate object was to secure for criticism absolute freedom of movement; but he did very much more. He foreshadowed, as a vital element of the coming time, inquiry as to the origin and growth of the Scriptures, the rise of Christianity, and the fundamental character of religion. And he indicated a far higher standpoint than that of the popular philosophers by vindicating the claims of feeling in spiritual life as opposed to those of the bare understanding. In his Education of the Human Race he gave systematic shape to the fruitful principle that a religion which is not true absolutely or for all time may be of vast importance by meeting the needs of a portion of the race in special epochs, and that there is in history, notwithstanding apparent reactions, a progressive movement towards higher intellectual and moral ideals. The suggestions thrown out in controversy he developed artistically in one of the greatest of his writings, the fine dramatic poem, Nathan the Wise, a work which enshrines all that was noblest in the struggles and the aspirations of his age, and connects the thought of the 18th with that of the 19th century. As a drama, it has serious faults; but it powerfully effects its purpose by revealing, in the enlightened Jew, its hero, the grandeur of a nature which, instead of binding itself in dogmatic fetters, cultivates a spirit of free and disinterested humanity.

Thus in all directions this great writer laboured for the intellectual regeneration of his people. If Goethe, Schiller, and Kant found a nation prepared to receive their work, they owed the fact to many causes; but among these the chief were the political activity of Frederick II. and the literary activity of Lessing.

VII. The Classical Period.— At the close of the Seven Years’ War the conditions of public life were very unfavourable to literature. The country was impoverished, and Frederick the Great and Maria Theresa were almost the only sovereigns who showed the least regard for the welfare of their subjects. But the mind of the nation had been thoroughly aroused from its long slumber. It had been startled into patriotism by Frederick’s unsurpassed energy, while the labours of the chief writers had imbued the better part of the middle class with a desire for a more varied and interesting life. As political freedom was still a dream of the future, they turned more and more to books for refreshment and stimulus. Multitudes of young men who in other circumstances would have occupied themselves solely with practical duty became authors, and they urged each other to an activity without parallel in any previous period.

Most of these young writers were deeply influenced by the men of the older generation—Lessing, Wieland, and Klopstock. They were also ardent students of Shakespeare, Ossian, and Dr Young, poets who were oddly supposed to be on the same level and to share the same tendencies. Rousseau excited almost as much enthusiasm in Germany as in France, and the criticism of Diderot found many warm admirers. Under these diverse influences a curious movement began which is known as that of “Sturm und Drang” (“Storm and Pressure”). It lasted, from about 1770, for ten or twelve years, and included nearly all the writers who still had fame to win. Their most prominent quality was discontent with the existing world. They detested not only tyranny and superstition but everything which prevented, or seemed to prevent, the free exercise of any powerful impulse. To break down conventionalities appeared to the “Sturm und Drang” poets their true function; but even this did not satisfy them. They longed for some knowledge deeper and more intimate than that attained by science, philosophy, or history, for some emotion intenser than can arise from any known human relation. All these conflicting feelings they expressed in their writings. From slavish submission to French critical laws they were of course completely emancipated. Most of them despised laws of every kind in literature as well as in life, and continually proclaimed that the duty of a man of genius was towrite precisely as nature dictated. By “genius” they meant vehement sensations, by “nature” a free use of vigorous epithets.

The writer who formed the connecting link between Lessing on the one hand and Goethe and Schiller on the other, and whom the best writers of the “Sturm und Drang” movement regarded as their critical guide, was Johann Gottfried Herder (1744-1803). Herder is sometimes compared with Lessing, but while Lessing has a cosmopolitan touch which makes him intelligible and attractive to all the world, Herder is in the strictest sense a German, and is only slightly studied beyond his own nation. He was less boldly original than his older contemporary, and never attained the clearness, force, and classic beauty of Lessing’s style. Nevertheless he is justly ranked among the most distinguished spirits Germany has produced. His mind was receptive in many different directions, and what he absorbed he made his own by independent thought, giving it out in new and suggestive forms. As an original poet, Herder does not rank high; yet genuine poetic impulses are visible in the poem in which he gave shape to the Spanish legends of the Cid. The literature in which he looked for the highest manifestation of thought and feeling was that which appeals to popular sentiment and has its root in popular life. Lessing had already called attention to the songs and ballads of the people; but Herder was the first German who decisively followed the impulse which led in England to the publication of Percy’s Reliques. In his Stimmen der Völker (“Voices of the Peoples”) he brought together an admirable collection of the lyrical utterances of many races; and it would be difficult to overrate the service he thus rendered, for he conducted his countrymen to a source of imaginative pleasure and revival in which their literature is exceptionally rich. By far his most important prose work was his Ideen zur Philosophie der Geschichte der Menschheit (“Ideas towards the Philosophy of the History of Humanity”), in which, working to some extent on the lines laid down in the brief paragraphs of Lessing’s Education of the Human Race, he develops the conception of progress, and indicates that we can fully understand any single element of history only by seeing it in the light of human evolution as a whole. This excellent book elevated the aims and enlarged the scope of historic inquiry in Germany; and it still produces a powerful moral effect by its noble spirit of humanity. To the end of his days Herder was animated by a fine enthusiasm for human happiness, and it lights up his pages even when his subject does not lead to its direct expression.

To Herder belonged the high honour of stimulating and directing, at a critical stage, the young genius of Johann Wolfgang Goethe (1749-1832). In naming Goethe we mention the writer who holds in German literature the place held by Shakespeare in the literature of England, and by Dante in that of Italy. He towers high above even the greatest of his contemporaries, predecessors, and successors,—Schiller himself, who is most worthily associated with him, being far inferior in breadth of sympathy and splendour of creative impulse. Goethe, indeed, is one of the few writers who, while marked by strongly national characteristics, belong to the world rather than to a particular country. The special phases of his age have begun to pass away, but his best work has lost none of its freshness: it cannot become old, since it is rooted in elements of human life that eternally endure.

All things co-operated to render worthy of his destiny this favoured child of fortune. During his long life he enjoyed almost uninterrupted physical vigour; he was born into a family of prosperous circumstances, although not so highly placed as to satisfy his ambition; he received the best intellectual training his epoch could afford; in Weimar he was free to adapt the plan of his life to his inclinations; and he appeared at the very time when, by an era of sincere poetic endeavour and unparalleled critical labour, the mind of the nation had been prepared for the boldest efforts of genius. Nature has seldom lavished so many advantages on the greatest of her great men.

The quality in Goethe which immediately arrests attention is the extraordinary range of his activity. Hardly any aspect of human existence was strange to him. He possessed in an unsurpassed degree the faculty of dramatically thinking himself into phases of life to which his personal impulses would not have led him; and he deliberately enlarged his experience by exercising this power at every stage of his career. It was his prevailing conviction that all ideals which fascinate or have fascinated humanity must have a touch of vitality; and none was so remote from him but he sought to penetrate to its meaning. He could be just to Hellenic culture without doing wrong to mediaevalism; he appreciated the spirit of Christianity without being indifferent to the faith of the Parsees or the Buddhists; he presented the ascetic aspirations of a “beautiful soul,” while setting forth the gaiety of the brightest and. most careless tempers; he felt the charm of art at the same time that he carried on profound researches in science; he loved his country, and yet, even when it was overrun by Napoleon’s troops, he would not join the patriots in saying a harsh word of France. This absolute universality destroyed enthusiasm for special practical movements; but it gave astonishing variety to his literary achievements. Goethe’s was in every respect a thoroughly poetic nature. He could not pass through a profound experience, an image of beauty could not cross his vision, without an accompanying impulse to find for his emotion an adequate sensuous representation. So vast a body of writings as bis inevitably includes much that is tedious, but in his happiest moments his genius moved with the ease, the certainty, the calmness of the great forces of nature; he could be as perfect in the lightest stroke of delicate feeling as in the grandest flight of soaring imagination. The world he reflects is the world we actually know; but he is not, therefore, in any narrow sense, a realist. The facts he images are shaped and coloured by his thought and feeling; he breathes into them a life by which they are made of universal significance. This combination of realism and idealism is one of the chief secrets of his power. His art aims at producing the most general effects, yet it is kept fresh, vivid, and true by incessant contact with the concrete life of men.

Heine relates that he felt inclined to address Goethe in Greek, so like was the calm dignified old man to an earthly Zeus; and this is probably the image suggested to most minds by his name. But in youth he was full of eager life, restless, and passionate, and his early works bear the impress of turbulent feeling. Of these the first published was Götz von Berlichiηgeη, which instantly established his fame as one of the chief writers of the “Sturm und Drang” school. It is almost as formless as their inartistic writings. The language is sometimes excessively rude, and there is no attempt to combine the different scenes into an harmonious picture. Yet it is sharply separated off from the tasteless plays with which it was compared, for everywhere we find traces of immature power. The characters are alive; they act and react upon each other as we should expect men and women to do in a stormy and troubled epoch; and by a few touches of apparently unconscious art we are made to realize the vital change through which the society of the age of the Reformation was passing. Die Leiden des jungen Werthers (“The Sufferings of Young Werther”) gave Goethe a European reputation. Much of its sentimentalism now excites smiles instead of tears; but with all its faults it has an enduring fascination. It breathes a warm love of nature, of which it presents vivid pictures; it conveys a powerful impression of the mingled force, sweetness, and unreasonableness of early passion; and it expresses with deep pathos that weariness of life which forms one of the moods of poetic youth, and the manifestation of which was a favourite pastime of the less sincere “Sturm und Drang” versifiers. The promise of Glitz and Werther was not sustained by all the works produced in the first part of his career. Clavigo is only a fairly good acting play; and Stella has even more than the extravagant sentimentalism of Werther. with only an occasional touch of its poetry. On the other hand, it was now that Goethe began Faust; and the fragment, Prometheus, expresses a grand defiance that is the more impressive because of the deep philosophic thought which may be .traced in the background. It was, however, in his lyrics that the richly varied life of Goethe’s youth most perfectly revealed itself. There are no German lyrics, if we except Heine’s, which deserve to be compared with Goethe’s; perhaps none in any literature have a more subtle charm. Profiting by the teaching of Herder, he studied the artless beauty of the best songs of the people, to some of which he gave new form, while retaining their primitive simplicity. His own lyrics are at once popular and artistic; he takes as his themes the joys, the longings, the regrets which all men understand, and weds them to melodies of delightful ease and grace. Almost every poem was suggested by some passing emotion of his own; yet his feeling is so purified that his words become the voice rather of humanity than of an individual man. His ballads are not, as a rule, so powerful as his songe, but both have one quality in common—without elaborate descriptions they continually call up by an apparently accidental word or phrase a clear vision of some natural object or scene. He is equally master of himself in rendering nature as a mirror in which we see the reflection of our own experience, or as a power moving on in calm indifference to our hopes and fears.

In 1775 Goethe settled in Weimar, where Wieland already was, and whither he was ultimately followed by Herder and Schiller, so that the little town became the centre of the intellectual life of Germany. After an interval of ten years, during which he published nothing, he paid his famous visit to Italy. Here his genius was kindled anew, and a close study of sculpture and painting suggested to him the necessity of submitting more fully than he had yet done to the permanent laws of art. The fruits of this experience were Iphigenia, Tasso, and Egmont, all of which he took with him to Italy in an unfinished form. The first two of these dramas were accepted as imitations of the antique; but they are so only in the sense that in each the parts are rigidly subordinated to the intention of the whole, that there is an orderly sequence in the development of the action, and that they are marked by elevation and simplicity of style. While incomparably more finished as works of art than any of the greater works he had before produced, they indicated no falling off in energy of imagination. Iphigenia, although its subject is Greek, is in tone and motive altogether Christian; and it would be difficult to name a more attractive picture of a modern lady than the pure and high-minded heroine. In Tasso Goethe draws in strong and sure outlines the sorrows of a poetic nature which will not sharply discriminate the real from its own ideal world. This dramatic poem is hardly more remarkable for the truth and vividness of its conceptions than for the charm of its versification and the wealth and beauty of its language. Egmont, however, has more movement, and touches human experience at deeper points. Most readers agree with Schiller’s criticism, that there is too much melodrama in the closing scene, in which Clärchen appears to the hero as the spirit of freedom, and that, notwithstanding the liberties taken with history, Goethe has hardly succeeded in making Egmont the type of an enemy of despotism. But Clärchen is a beautiful study of a mind stirred by love to great resolves; and there is splendid portraiture in the characters of Alva, William of Orange, and the Princess of Parma.

Meanwhile, a new literary force had revealed itself in the life of Germany: Schiller (1759-1805), Goethe’s great rival, had begun to divide with him the public attention and interest. The names of these two poets, in virtue of whose labours their period deserves to be called classical, are indissolubly connected, yet they were marked off from each other by profound distinctions. Goethe is often called the poet of culture, and it is true that he never ceased to subject his powers to systematic discipline. He was also one of the keenest critics of modern times. But the charm of his best writings is not dependent on criticism or culture; it springs from the spontaneous movement of a great imaginative faculty. Schiller, on the other hand, while also endowed with imagination, possessed it in a much less degree. His poetry would probably have lived even if he had not had the advantage of a thorough grasp of aesthetic laws; but it would certainly have had no claim to the distinguished place it now holds in European literature. He did not attempt so wide a range as Goethe, and within his scope he was not, like Goethe, a disinterested observer; he flung himself into the midst of the struggles of his time, and fought valiantly as the champion of a side. Fortunately for Germany, his side was always that of a truly chivalrous mind; for Schiller was one of the most unselfish of men, with lofty aspirations for the race, and a generous confidence in its essential goodness. These qualities determined the character of his conceptions. Goethe presents us with idealized pictures of the world; Schiller’s creations are not so much pictures of the world as the figures of a realm distinct from actual life. His supreme aim was to express great sentiments and ideas, and as the medium for their utterance he conceived characters which are to be found only in a poet’s dreams.

Schiller began his literary career as a youth of two-and-twenty, inspired by revolutionary ardour, detesting every conventionality of society, dreaming of a world in which will and passion should have absolute licence. He relieved himself of his vehement emotions in his first three plays, Die Bäuber (“ The Robbers ”), Fiesco, and Cabale und Liebe (“Intrigue and Love”). Genius never beat with more Titanic energy against an unsympathetic world than in these dramas; the impulse of the “Sturm und Drang” period, as it was about to die away, spoke in them its wildest, most passionate word. Don Carlos, his next drama, still manifested inability to form an organic whole; it contains scenes which have no bearing on the central action, and there is hardly an attempt to explain deeds by natural and intelligible motives. But we are no longer in the presence of one who merely raises an outcry against the existing world; furious resistance to despotism has become enlightened enthusiasm for freedom, humanity, and progress. Although the part of Marquis Posa is imperfectly worked into the scheme of the play, he is a nobly ideal creation; through him Schiller pours forth his own aspirations for the welfare of mankind. There is admirable art in the momentary elevation caused by his greatness of soul even in the dark and selfish Philip and the restless and wayward Don Carlos.

After he settled in Jena in 1789 as professor of history, Schiller was often in Weimar; but for a time he and Goethe held apart. By and by they began to approach each other, and from about 1794 their acquaintance ripened into fast friendship. The friendship of Goethe and Schiller is one of the most beautiful in the history of literature. It made no essential change in Goethe’s modes of thought or expression, but it spurred him to the highest activity of which his genius was capable. His friend, he himself declared, “created for him a second youth, and again made him a poet, which he had almost ceased to be.” On the other hand, in contact with Goethe’s larger intellectual life, Schiller was raised to new points of view, and he acquired for the first time that mastery of artistic methods which secured for him his highest triumphs. He now became as remarkable for the perfection of his form as for the depth and warmth of his feeling.

The two friends worked harmoniously in connexion with Schiller’s journal Die Horen, and wrote in common the Xenien, a number of epigrammatic verses meant to wound their literary enemies. On the whole, it is surprising that comparatively so few of the arrows in this rather large quiver are delicately pointed and feathered. A very different stage of excellence is reached by Schiller’s well-known ballads, which were written during the period of his intimacy with Goethe. Nearly all of them are marked by force of conception and by purity and dignity of style. In lyrical poetry he had acquired some distinction before he knew Goethe, but it was in competition with his friend that he achieved his masterpiece, Das Lied von der Cloche (“The Song of the Bell”), in which within a small compass he presents an impressive picture of the course of human life, varying his melody with subtle art to suit the changing aspects of his theme. Less artistically perfect than the Cloche, other lyrics, such as Der Genius, Die Ideale, Der Spaziergang, have the power which belongs to deeper personal emotion. In ease and spontaneity none of Schiller’s lyrics equal Goethe’s, in which, as Heine says, “the word embraces you while the thought kisses you.” But they express in clear and noble language some of the highest feelings excited in a poetic mind by contemplation of human life and destiny,

In his dramatic writings Schiller was influenced by Goethe even more than in his lyrics and ballads. The whole series of tragedies which he now wrote have historic or legendary themes, and he displays remarkable skill in unfolding through the past his greatest ideas respecting the future. At the same time he evokes from it a company of finely ideal figures, whose qualities are revealed by the systematic development of large and carefully conceived schemes. Wallenstein, the earliest of the series, consists of two plays, The Piccolomini and Wallenstein’s Death, the former of which is preceded by a number of scenes presenting a vivid picture of Wallenstein’s camp. The tragic motive of this great work is somewhat obscure. We are made conscious by many artful touches of the ultimate issue; but Schiller does not render fully intelligible the play of the influences which result in disaster. There is, however, high imaginative faculty in his conception of Wallenstein’s powerful, dark, and wavering character; and every reader feels the charm of the love passages between Max Piccolomini and Thekla. In Maria Stuart Schiller triumphs over an obvious difficulty by admitting the heroine’s guilt, while he stirs our pity for her sufferings and our admiration for the spirit of endurance with which they are met. In the Jungfrau von Orleans, “The Maid” would have given purer pleasure if she had not been represented as loving one of the English commanders; but this only slightly mars the splendid picture of her patriotic devotion. As a •work of art, the Traut von Messina is the least successful of the later dramas, for it attempts to combine romantic and classic elements which are irreconcilable; it contains, however, some of the most brilliantly rhetorical passages in the German language. The last of his completed works, and in some respects the best, was Wilhelm Tell. Here his love of freedom shaped for itself forms of immortal beauty. At a time when the French emperor threatened the independence of all Europe, men felt the power of the play more keenly than can be done in a calmer period; but it has permanently enriched the life of humanity by its conception of a character dominated by high, ideal passions. Schiller never saw Switzerland, yet in this powerful drama he renders with astonishing vividness the grander effects of Alpine scenery.

During his friendship with Schiller Goethe wrote in competition with him many lyrics and ballads. In works of the latter class, as Goethe himself thought, he was surpassed by his friend. He is incomparably more subtle and suggestive than Schiller; but for this very reason he is less effective. A ballad does not deserve its name if it is not popular; and we hear the voice of the people themselves in Schiller’s free, bold, and simply harmonious verses. One of the longer works published by Goethe during this period was Hermann und Dorothea. His delicately chosen language and dignified hexameters are not always in keeping with the somewhat prosaic life they are here used to portray; but the poem is the nearest approach that has been made to the successful epic treatment of an ordinary theme. And it rises to a high level of imaginative power in the contrast it suggests between the still life of the humble village, with its little idyll of satisfied love, and the far-off desolation of the revolutionary wars, of which we are reminded by the band of emigrants. The genius of Goethe moves more freely in Wilhelm Meister, of which the first part was now published. This work has perhaps given rise to more contradictory criticism than any other book in modern literature. We may safely disregard the opinion of those who find in it all the excellences that can be combined in a prose romance, for it is without plan, and its style is singularly unequal. When Goethe himself admitted that he did not possess the key to its full significance, his warmest admirers may allow that perhaps there is no key to possess. Yet few of his writings present more striking evidence of the fertility of his power. He interests us equally— to recall only a few of the characters—in the gay and worldly Phillina, in the romantic Mariana, and in that most mysterious, lovely, and fascinating of creations, Mignon, whose Kennst du das Land is perhaps the noblest of those pathetic poems in which a soul in an uncongenial world calls up a momentary vision of its true home. It is not only in its dramatic conceptions that Wilhelm Meister is great; it contains some of Goethe’s deepest thoughts on life and literature.

After the death of Schiller Goethe turned his attention more and more to science, his achievements in which have been fully appreciated only since the growth of the doctrine of evolution. Still, it was in hi⅛ latest period that he completed the most famous and the greatest of his works, Faust, a poem which he began in youth and did not finish until nearly his last birthday. The Faust of legend was a vulgar magician; Goethe so conceives the character that it indicates the deepest mysteries of human existence. The second part, in which the problem of the poem is solved, can hardly be regarded as a work of art; it is, or seems to be, confused and dark. And the individual elements of the first part are not completely welded; they form rather a series of poems than a single creation. In these individual elements, however, we find the grandest sweep of imaginative thought yet achieved by the German genius. The episode of Gretchen reflects with perfect art the most alluring and the most sorrowful facts of life; and philosophy and religion in their highest aspects meet in Faust’s aspirations and struggles.

It might have been supposed that at the age of seventy Goethe had no new imaginative worlds to conquer; yet he then published his Westöstlicher Divan, representing, with dramatic sympathy and lyric force almost unabated, the combined mysticism and sensuousness of Oriental life. Ten years before, he had issued Wahlverwandtschaften (“Elective Affinities”), a powerful picture of impulses which law cannot control, and in which are concealed the germs of tragic issues. It has, however, less charm than another prose work, Dicldung und Wahrheit (“Poetry and Truth”), in which he draws a slightly idealized sketch of his early life. This fascinating book has made the figure of young Goethe as familiar as his chief dramatic characters; and no creations of the fancy are better known than the Frederikas and the Lilis, who had long before occasioned his sweetest lyrics, and the memory of whom in old age gave delicacy and music to his style. ·

While Goethe and Schiller were in thé midst of their career, Europe was startled by the French Revolution. At first it stirred as much interest in Germany as in England. The aged Klopstock greeted it with odes full of the fiery energy of youth, and for a time Schiller almost fancied that his loftiest hopes were about to be realized. Sympathy, however, was transformed into bitter opposition by the Reign of Terror; and when Germany was trodden under foot by Napoleon, she turned more and more from every kind of French influence. Thus it happened that, although the ideas of the Revolution have indirectly affected the literature of Germany as deeply as that of the. rest of Europe, their immediate effect was slight and transitory.

An event of the highest importance in the intellectual growth of Germany was the publication, in 1781, of Kant’s Kritik der Reinen Vernunft. It is hard for men of a later time, accustomed to metaphysical speculation, to realize the impression produced by this great book. Its effect in philosophy was not unlike that caused in our own day in science by Mr Darwin’s Origin of Species. Everywhere among thoughtful men, at the universities especially, philosophy became the absorbing subject of study; and it was taken up at a point from which its whole past development was for the first time intelligible. Goethe, without neglecting the movement, was perhaps less stirred by it than any other prominent writer; Schiller became one of Kant’s most enthusiastic students, and traces of the new system are to be found in many of his later lyrics and dramas. He also applied its principles to aestlietics in several admirable critical writings. By and by, dissatisfied with the gulf left by Kant between mind and matter as “things in themselves,” philosophers started in search of some principle which should harmonize all the elements of existence; and thus grew up, one after the other, the systems of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel. For more than a generation these thinkers excited deeper interest than imaginative writers; the most serious minds were fascinated by speculations which placed in new lights all the greatest questions relating to human thought and action.

Of the poets or versifiers who began their career with Goethe, the one who for some time attracted most notice was Klinger (1753-1831), whose play, Sturm und Drang, is at least memorable through its title. Other plays of his were Conradin and Medea·, and he also wrote romances, of which the best known were Paust , s Leben, Thaten, und Höllenfahrt and Der Weltmann und der Dichter. His writings are violent and noisy, without a touch of true art; what he mistook for imagination was a power of crude and unmeasured declamation. His later works express the bitterness of a deeply disappointed man. Lenz (1750-92), whose name is usually connected with that of Klinger, did not make even so distant an approach to imagination as his rival; his plays are the wild outgrowths of a mind which has made no sincere observation of life, and has submitted neither to intellectual nor to moral discipline. A man of much greater talent than either was Daniel Schubart (1739-91), the restless, licentious, and unfortunate poet who, for publishing a piece of false news, was confined for ten years in a fortress, where he suffered incredible hardships. In his attempts to portray the horrible he is sometimes extremely grotesque, but his best verses have both music and pathos, and they had the good fortune to exercise some influence on Schiller. He was one of the earliest publicists of Germany, and his hatred of despotism was the real cause of the infamous act which deprived him of freedom. Writers who shared the spirit of “Sturm und Drang,” and applied it in new directions, were Lavater and Basedow. Lavater enjoyed the friendship of nearly every distinguished man of his day, yet he was vain and fanatical. His Physiognomische Fragmente (“Fragments on Physiognomy ”) were supposed by thousands of readers to find in the relations of mind and body the materials of a new and mysterious science; but the pretended science was in reality a mixture of commonplace and extravagance. Basedow, although with too passionate a faith in the power of education to effect an immediate transformation of the race, did excellent service by advocating, after Rousseau, a more humane and natural system of mental training than had before prevailed. The same cause was more temperately promoted by Campe, who wrote some admirable books for the young; and the Swiss educational reformer, Pestalozzi, set forth methods of instruction in earnest didactic works which had some effect in nearly every country in Europe.

The excitement of the “Sturm und Drang” writers was shared by a band of young poets who in other respects displayed a wholly different temper. Most of them were students at Göttingen, where they gathered round Boie, editor of the Musenalmanach, a journal he had started in imitation of Le Mercure de France, and to which Goethe and many of the best of the younger men of the day contributed. They called themselves the “Hainbund” (“Grove Confederation ”), because of their dancing one night by moonlight round an oak tree, swearing eternal friendship, and vowing to devote themselves to their native land. The god of their idolatry was Klopstock, whose somewhat fantastic enthusiasm for primitive Germany they fully shared, and whose labours on behalf of virtue they never ceased to celebrate, while they loathed and despised Wieland. Several members of the “Hainbund” afterwards acquired distinction, and all of them were more or less remarkable for the genuinely popular tone of their writings. By far the greatest of them was Bürger (1748-94), who, although he never did full justice to himself, gave evidence of an original and adventurous geniu3. His Lenore, a translation of which was Scott’s first published work, is full of weird power, and his sonnets are among the most perfect in German literature. His faculty of meeting the popular taste was possessed by Holty (1748-76), who, however, delighted in mild and calm expression, while the best of Bürger’s poems are full of stir and action. Johann Martin Miller (1750-1814) became known chiefly as the author of the romance Siegwart, a rather weak imitation of Werther. Some irreverent spirits ventured to laugh at its tedious pathos, but it was welcomed by the majority of the middle class, who took especial delight in the songs it includes. Christian, Count Stolberg, and his brother, Frederick Leopold, were also members of the Göttingen school. Besides imitations of Greek plays, they issued odes, ballads, and songs. Of the two the most powerful was Frederick Leopold (1750-1819), in some of whose briefer pieces there is true feeling for nature. He continually verges, however, on extravagance, and often takes the fatal step from the sublime. A stronger writer was Johann Heinrich Voss (1751-1826), author of a famous idyll, Louise, which was received by Schiller as a poem of first-rate importance, and suggested to Goethe the idea of his Hermann und Dorothea. Its homeliness of style is perhaps more in keeping with its simple and commonplace theme than the classic grace of Goethe’s verses. Voss acquired a better title to fame by an admirable translation of Homer, which did for the Iliad in Germany what Pope’s translation did in England. Voss’s rendering is less polished than Pope’s, but incomparably more faithful. Matthias Claudius (1740-1815), although not a member of the “Hainbund,” is usually associated with it because of his general sympathy with its tone. The Waηdsl)ecker Bote (“Wandsbeck Messenger ”), in which he brought together all his writings, contains much simple poetic feeling, and some of his songs are still popular favourites.

While these writers attached themselves to Klopstock, others showed traces of Wieland’s influence. The most important of this class was Wilhelm Hei∏3e (1749-1803), whose chief work was Ardinghello, a prose romance. He shares Wieland’s general theory of life, but, instead of expressing it in the calm, ironical style of his master, he is vehement, tumultuous, and enthusiastic. Amid his wild exaggerations he sometimes displays a remarkable power of describing physical beauty. He was an ardent student of art, and was the first German writer who succeeded in reproducing in glowing language the impression produced upon him by pictures and music. Other imitators of Wieland were Aloys Blumauer, who mistook vulgar burlesque for satire; Alxinger, whose Doolin von Mainz may be taken to represent a large class of tiresome poems of chivalry; and Von Thümmel, who, with considerably more ability than these writers, spoiled his good qualities by cynical grossness. An indefinite number of mediaeval plays were written in imitation of Goethe’s C'otz, and robber romances in imitation of Schiller’s Räuber. Of the latter the earliest and most famous was the Rinaldo Rinaldini of Vulpius. Jung Stilling (1740-1817) continued the sentimental tone of Werther in a number of curious autobiographic tales, which acquired extraordinary popularity, and threw much light on the inner tendencies of the later pietists. Among imitators of Schiller’s lyrical poetry the best were Matthison and Salis-Seewis; but they were more successful in reproducing his moral feeling than in rivalling his high art. For many years the stage was in the possession of Iffland (1759-1814) and Kotzebue (1761-1819). The former, who was a distinguished actor, wrote dramas chiefly of domestic interest. They are without genius, but had the merit of almost displacing the foolish mediaeval plays of Goethe’s imitators. Kotzebue was a most prolific writer; and although he had no imagination, and wrote merely to catch the applause of the moment, his comedies still deserve to be named among the few works of this class which have hitherto been produced in Germany.

A writer who exercised some influence over the youth of Goethe was Frederick Jacobi (1743-1B19). He was the author of two romances, Alwill and Woldemar, in both of which there is a little of Werther’s sentimentalism, although their main purpose is didactic. He also wrote a number of philosophical works. His main principle is that the sources of religion and morality are to be found in intuition; and by a constant reiteration of this doctrine he worked in opposition to Spinoza, to Kant, and to Schelling. There are occasional gleams of philosophical genius in Jacobi, and he is of some interest to English readers because of the attention Sir William Hamilton appears to have devoted to his writings. An author of a very different type, and of far greater eminence, was Jean Paul Richter, usually called Jean Paul (1763-1825). It is difficult to do justice to Jean Paul, for he commits almost every fault of which a writer of romance can be guilty; he is at different times pedantic, extravagant, sentimental, and tedious. He prescribed for himself no limits; everything that occurred to him at the moment of his writing went down exactly as it suggested itself. Yet it is impossible even to look into any of his innumerable books without recognizing his genius. The work which has maintained the strongest hold over the nation is perhaps his charming prose idyll, Die Flegeljahre (“The Years of Wild Oats”); but his great romance, Titan, and the less ambitious Siebenkäs, or “Flower, Fruit, and Thorn Pieces,” have also kept their place as works of permanent excellence. The most admirable quality of Richter is his humour. No German writer plays with his subject more delightfully, and he produces his most striking effects in dealing with the simplest, most unpretending relations of life. He is usually very near the sources of pathos when he smiles, and Jean Paul’s pathos, at its best, is full of power, awakening the deepest feeling by its obvious sincerity. Sometimes it is associated with lofty imagination, as in the famous dream in which he describes a universe without religion. His feeling for the periodic changes of season in nature is that of a poet in the highest sense, his descriptions of spring being perhaps unsurpassed for their glowing yet tender beauty. To his other excellences we must add the manly spirit which led him to scoff, occasionally without due measure, at every kind of vulgarity and pretence, and at the same time preserved in its original freshness bis sympathy with his fellow-men and his passion for their enlightenment and progress.

The most important literary movement which originated duringthe lifetime of Goethe was that of the Romantic school, whose leading members at first attached themselves to him, but gradually diverged more and more from his spirit. The rise of the school was in some measure due to the philosophy of Fichte, whose theory of the ego as the principle which freely creates its own world gave new importance to the individual as opposed to law and convention. ’ Schelling still more effectually prepared the way for the Romanticists by his poetic treatment of the relations between the mind and nature; and several of his disciples, especially Steffens, worked in the same direction by dwelling on the possibilities of mystery in human life and in the external world. The aim of the Romantic school was to assert for modern feeling the right of a freer, more varied utterance than can be provided for it by the forms of classic literature. They were not in sympathy with their own time; they found it tame, prosaic, colourless; and to enrich it with new elements they went back to mediaevalism, in which, as they conceived it, daily life had not been divorced from poetry. They drew enthusiastic pictures of the Middle Ages, of the charms of chivalry, of the loyalty of each class to the class above it and to society as a whole, of the devout piety which was supposed to regulate the conduct of prince and peasant alike, and which revealed itself in splendid architecture aud a gorgeous ritual. With a like purpose the Romanticists pointed to Oriental life, and began the serious study of Sanskrit and Persian poetry. The chief writers whom they opposed to the classical poets both of antiquity and of modern times were Shakespeare and Calderon; but they also brought to light many mediaeval authors who had previously been neglected, and. stimulated the Germans to a systematic study of the whole of their past literature.

The Romanticists did not strike out a wholly original path, for there were in the writings of Lessing, Goethe, and Schiller—especially of Goethe—elements in full harmony with all that was best in the new tendency. They were guilty of grotesque exaggeration in their descriptions of the superior happiness of mediaeval nations and Oriental peoples, aud they did much harm by checking the rising appreciation of measure and order iu literary form which had been encouraged by the great classical writers, In practical life, too, their labours led to results opposed to the progressive tendencies of the age; for in the case of many adherents of the Romantic school, enthusiasm for the Middle Ages soon ceased to be a mere literary fancy,—they strove to reproduce obsolete mediaeval ideas. Large numbers of them joined the Catholic Church, and became the most vehement opponents of spiritual and political freedom. Still the Romanticists gave prominence to certain vital principles. That we now feel the charm of what was great and beautiful in the Middle Ages, is in part the result of their teaching; and to some extent we owe to them the recognition of deeper elements in the world than reason can formulate, and the conviction that the thought of each age must create for itself a medium of expression adapted to its special nature.

The writer known as the prophet of the Romantic school was Frederick von Hardenberg, generally called Novalis (1772-1801). In his unfinished romance, Heinrich von Ofterdingen, he revealed a mystical and sensitive spirit, penetrated by religious aspiration, and feeling itself ill at ease in the hard rough world. These qualities are still more pathetically expressed in his poems, the best perhaps being those in which he directly utters spiritual emotions. The critical leaders of the school were the brothers August Wilhelm von Schlegel (1767-1845) and Friedrich von Schlegel (1772-1829). It is to be feared that many English readers have derived their impression of the former mainly from Heine’s malicious caricature. In reality, although destitute of creative power, he was a man of great intellectual distinction. His translations from Shakespeare are masterly, and his rendering of Calderon has also genuine merit. He did much to promote the scientific study of Sanskrit, and his lectures on dramatic art and literature, and on the theory and history of plastic art, contain many fruitful suggestions. Friedrich von Schlegel, who - was a writer of greater depth and versatility than his brother, caused much scandal by his romance, Lucνnde, in which the school appeared for the moment as a powerfully dissolving force in regard to the most sacred of human relations. His most important work, however, is his History of Ancient and Modern Literature. Throughout his exposition he is a propagandist of his special ideas; but the book is of lasting importance as the earliest attempt to present a systematic view of literary development as a whole. The period in which the brothers worked most effectually for their school was between 1796 and 1800, when they lived in Jena, and formed the centre of a brilliant circle which included Fichte, Schelling, Tieck, and Wilhelm von Humboldt. Here they edited the Athenoeum, in which they chastised feeble and pretentious writers, and awoke general interest in mediaeval art and literature, and in the systems of philosophy that harmonized with their special tendency.

The most productive, and for a time the most famous, writer of the Romantic school was Ludwig Tieck (1773— 1853). Many of the smaller tales in his Phantasus have not yet lost their interest. They are, indeed, as far as possible from representing the real life of mediaevalism, but they have a mystic and fairy-like charm which is not the less powerful because it is purely imaginative. In his later novels he took his themes from modern life, and they display a remarkable talent for keen and searching satire. Most of them, however, are already practically forgotten, for Tieck was unable to give form to his ideas, and his imagination was wayward and eccentric. In his lyrical poetry he seldom touches a true note, and his dramas have no high qualities to make up for their utter and deliberate lack of plan. Yet his dramatic criticism, of which he wrote a great deal in Dresden,—where he lived for many years, the centre of an adoring body of disciples,— is often happy and suggestive; and his completion of Schlegel’s translation of Shakespeare is poetic in feeling, and indicates a rare mastery of language aud versification. A writer of less importance, but who exercised considerable influence over Tieck at an early period of his career, was W. H. Wackenroder (1772-98), whose Phantasien über die Kunst (“Fancies concerning Art ”) was published by Tieck after the writer’s early death. Both in this book and in his Overflowings from the Heart of an Art-loving Friar he expresses a deep feeling for Christian, especially allegoric, art. He was here in full sympathy with the whole Romantic school, which derived intense delight from the spiritual art of the early mediaeval painters, but cared little for the noble beauty of Greek art or of the art of the Renaissance.

Among the authors who wrote in the spirit of the Romantic school, and who were for a long time extremely popular, one of the chief was E. T. A. Hoffmann (1776- 1822). His treatment of ghostly and horrible themes is often very grotesque; but he has flashes of vivid narrative which indicate a deep appreciation of some of the more mysterious aspects of human nature. Clemens Brentano (1777-1842) was one of the most ambitious of the Romanticists, and he had originality both of thought and fancy; but he was too confused, too indifferent to form, to produce more than a passing impression. Of far more enduring excellence than anything he himself wrote was Des Knaben Wunderhorn, a book of popular lyrics which he collected with his brother-in-law, Achim von Arnim. Arnim (1781-1831) revealed imagination and feeling in his Kronenwächter (“' Guardians of the Crown ”); and his Countess Dolores gives evidence of great natural power. His works, however, suffer the penalty which attaches to the total neglect of art. De La Motte Fouqué (1777-1843) does not, in the majority of his writings, rise above the level of his fellows; like them, he usually lacks clearness, precision, and genuinely human interest. But in one little book, Undine, he achieved a masterpiece. This charming tale, with its sweetness, pathos, and dream-like beauty, is now above criticism; it has taken its place as one of the select clas≡ of creations which appeal to all the world, and do not depend for their popularity on the tendencies of a particular time. Joseph von Eichendorff (1788-1857) is an adherent of the Romantic school only in some of his tales; his lyrics combine its depth of emotion with clear and musical expression, and his best stories are written in a frank and attractive style. Adelbert von Chamisso (1781-1838), although usually classed as to some extent a Romanticist, has none of the dreaminess and mysticism of the school. He became a German both in thought and feeling; but his ordered and vigorous style preseuts many traces of his French origin. He is now chiefly remembered by Peter Schlemihl, a tale of quaint and suggestive humour. The most distinguished dramatist of the Romantic school was Heinrich von Kleist (1776-1811), whose dramas were not represented till after his death, but have since then attracted much attention. Some of his characters are conceived with great vigour, but in his tragic motives he lacks invention, and all his works are more or less marred by morbid sentimentalism. Allied to the Romantic school, although not directly connected with it, were the writers of the so-called fate-tragedies. The originator of this curious class of works was Werner (1768-1823). It would be difficult to imagine a more trivial conception of fate than that which he develops in his Twenty-Fourth of February, which represents a series of disasters as occurring at intervals on a particular day in consequence of a father’s curse. The notion, however, struck the popular fancy, and for ten years even Kotzebue could not contest the supremacy of the fate-tragedians. The chief followers of Werner were Miillner and Houwald. Franz Grillparzer (1791-1872) began his career with a play— Die Ahnfrau (“ The Ancestress”)—in the style of these popular writers, but in his later tragedies he strove to attain classic force and dignity; and by at least one play, Sappho, he achieved a place among the most distinguished German dramatists.

The whole life of Germany was to some extent influenced by the Romantic school. In politics it was represented, among others, by Joseph Gorres, who agitated with constantly growing enthusiasm for the revival of mediaevalism both in church and state. In philosophy Franz Xaver von Baader followed a like tendency by entering deeply into the spirit of Jacob Boehme’s mystical philosophy, and interpreting its principles in accordance with Catholic doctrine. Frederick Schleiermacher (1768-1834) was a thorough Protestant, and his services to serious literature were incomparably higher than those of Baader. He was an admirable dialectician, and did more than any other writer to promote in Germany a sympathetic study of Plato. Yet there is a touch of Romanticism in the vague, shadowy, and mystic language in which he presents the elements of Christian thought and life. The love of the Romantic writers for previous epochs of German history and literature led to the great researches of the brothers Grimm, who founded the scientific study of the German language and of German antiquities. They were followed by many devoted scholars, among whom may be named Beneke, Lachmann, Moritz Haupt, and Franz Pfeiffer. The Oriental studies of the Romanticists also promoted comparative philology, which acquired something of the character it now bears through the labours of the illustrious scholars, Wilhelm von Humboldt and Franz Bopp.

During the calamitous period when Germany was beaten and humbled by Napoleon the Romantic school, by continually recalling the past glories of the nation, contributed largely to the revival of patriotic feeling. A like result was achieved by Fichte, whose addresses to the German people, delivered in Berlin while it was occupied by French soldiers, are models of fervid yet thoughtful and dignified eloquence. In the war of liberation the popular excitement was expressed with great spirit by Theodor Körner (1791-1813) and Ernst Moritz Arndt (1769-1860). Of these two writers Arndt is the most poetic, but few even of his lyrics have much literary value. To judge them fairly we must think ourselves back into the epoch in which the nation spontaneously arose to avenge its wrongs and assert its independence. It was as a writer of patriotic war-songs that Frederick Rückert (1789-1866) opened his career. Afterwards he moved over a wide range, distinguishing himself especially as a translator of Oriental poetry. He was master of almost every form of lyrical expression, and had hardly less facility in narrative and didactic verse. As regards the substance of his poetry, he is perhaps chiefly remarkable for the tone of calm resignation which he learned from his Eastern masters. In his preference for Oriental modes of thought he has been followed in recent times by Daumer, Bodenstedt, and other poets, who, however, chiefly aim at contrasting the ascetic ideals of Christianity with a gayer, brighter scheme of life. The whole movement had its origin, and was virtually exhausted, in Goethe’s Westostlicher Divan.

Had the hopes of German patriots been realized after the war of liberation, literature might have profited by the growth of an intelligent national spirit. But the reward of the German people for their immense sacrifices was bitter opposition on the part of their Governments to every aspiration for freedom and unity. Arndt himself, who had done so much to kindle patriotic ardour, was dismissed in disgrace from his professorship at Bonn, which he did not regain till 1840, when Frederick William IV. mounted the Prussian throne. And the brothers Grimm with other scholars were ignominiously turned out of Gottingen. The mass of the people lost interest in high thought and endeavour, and nourished itself on weak poetry like the Urania of Tiedge, and detestable novels like those of Clauren. Yet even in poetry the period was not destitute of important names. Ludwig Uhland (1787-1862), whose first volume of poems appeared in 1815, ranks with the greatest of modern lyrical writers. He is truly popular and patriotic in tone, yet his songs and ballads have an ease and grace of style which raise him far above any of the Romantic schotjl. Uhland was the founder of the so-called Swabian school of poets, of whom the most cultivated was Gustav Schwab. Other Swabian poets were Justinus Kerner, who attempted, not unsuccessfully, to combine pathos and humour, and Eduard Mörike, whose poetry is generally of a melancholy tone, relieved, however, by touches which indicate a fine sympathy with nature. The theatre was dominated by Raupach (1784- 1852) and Freiherr von Auffenberg (1798-1857), the former reigning in Berlin, the latter in Carlsruhe. Both had talent and knowledge of the stage, but there is neither genius nor art in their plays. Immermann (1796-1840), although not without poetic power, lacked the faculty of controlling his dramatic conceptions. He was more successful in romance—his Epigonen, and still more his Münchhausen, displaying vivid fancy and a quaintly original humour. Sir Walter Scott, who was deeply influenced by German literature, repaid his obligations by influencing it in turn. One of the best of his imitators was Wilhelm Hauff (1802-1827), who had the merit of nearly putting an end to Clauren’s popularity by satirizing his style. Hauff ’ s chief work was Lichtenstein, which excited hopes that were too soon extinguished by death. Wilhelm Häring, known as Wilibald Alexis (1798-1876), also began as an imitator of Scott, but he afterwards wrote more original historical romances, the scenes of which he laid in Brandenburg. Johanna Schopenhauer, mother of the philosopher, was considered in her day an attractive writer of romance, but she is now remembered only for the sake of her son. She was surpassed in vigour of thought and style by Caroline Pichler (1769-1843), who wrote several well-known historical novels.

Throughout the whole of this period Germany maintained her eminence in classical study, contributions of the highest importance to the knowledge of ancient life being made by Wolf, Hermann, Boeckh, and Otfried Müller. In history she produced several writers of distinction. Spittier (1752- 1810) was a worthy successor of Justus Möser in the free and artistic treatment of historical subjects; in youth he was kindly treated by Lessing, whose clear style he appears to have taken as his model. Johannes von Müller (1752-1809), the historian of Switzerland, used to be considered by the Germans an eloquent writer, almost a prose poet, but he is now generally regarded as an affected rhetorician. Raumer, in his chief work, History of the Hohenstaufen, gave forth the results of deep research in an animated and vigorous narrative. Schlosser, author of a History of the Eighteenth Century, was also an historian who combined purity and strength of style with learning. Niebuhr, in his Homan History, pushed his scepticism too far, but he profoundly modified opinion in regard to the tests of historic credibility.

VIII. The Latest Period.— With the death of Goethe in 1832 began a new era in German literature, an era not yet closed. The period has been one of intense political excitement. In 1848 the national aspiration for freedom and unity found decisive expression in action; since that time Germany has achieved unity by the sword, while she still slowly feels her way towards freedom. It was inevitable that in such an epoch much of the best energy of the nation should be devoted to politics, but there has also been great literary activity—activity deeply influenced by the practical struggles, hopes, and fears of the time.

Philosophical speculation has been continued without interruption, and in many respects it has been, and still is, the deepest current in the intellectual life of Germany. From 1818 till his death in 1831, when he was a professor in Berlin, Hegel dominated the highest thought. His vast system, in which he attempted to explain the ultimate facts of the world and to bind by a chain of deductive reasoning the elements of all knowledge, found enthusiastic adherents among the more ambitious of the younger literary men, and for many years after his death it determined the character of their work. Gradually, however, the school broke up into three distinct divisions, the right, the centre, and the left. Of these the most active were the members of the latter party, who interpreted Hegel’s doctrine in a revolutionary sense. Arnold Ruge, one of the most brilliant writers of the school, applied Hegelianism to politics, in which he associated himself with the extreme radicals. David Friedrich Strauss, who also started as a follower of Hegel, in his memorable Leben Jesu resolved the narratives of the Gospels into a series of myths, and found the vital element of Christianity in its spiritual teaching. Feuerbach, going still further, warred against all religion, urging that it should be replaced by a sentiment of humanity. While the different sections of Hegelians opposed each other, Schelling developed the later phases of his system; and thought was turned into a new channel by Herbart, whose psychological work has been carried on at a later time by Lotze. Krause also attracted attention by philosophical ideas through which he aimed at solving the practical difficulties of modern life. Ulrici and the younger Fichte have exercised considerable influence as the advocates of a pantheistic doctrine by which they endeavour to reconcile religion and science. None of these names, however, have the importance which attaches to that of Arthur Schopenhauer, who, although his chief book was written in the lifetime of Goethe, did not secure a hearing until long afterwards. At the present time he stirs deeper interest than any other thinker. German philosophers have, as a rule,been utterly indifferent to style, but Schopenhauer’s prose is clear, firm, and graceful, and to this fact he owes much of his popularity. He expressed bitter contempt for his philosophical contemporaries, and, going back to Kant, claimed to have corrected and completed his system. His main doctrine is that will is the fundamental principle of existence; but his importance arises less from his abstract teaching than from his descriptions of the misery of human life. History seemed to him but a record of turmoil and wretchedness; and there is high literary genius as well as moral earnestness in his graphic and scornful pictures of the darker aspects of the world. Eduard von Hartmann, the latest original philosopher of Germany, works on essentially the same lines, but seeks to reconcile Schopenhauer not only with Hegel and Schelling but with Leibnitz.

The growth of science has been one of the most powerful factors in the recent intellectual development of Germany, and some of the best books of the period have been works presenting in a popular form the results of scientific labour. Among these the first place still belongs to the Cosmos of Alexander von Humboldt. Its fundamental conceptions are no longer in full accordance with the best thought; but it is made enduringly impressive by the writer’s power of handling vast masses of facts, by his poetic feeling for the beauty and the order of nature, and by the purity and nobility of his style. Some of the greatest men of science, such as Liebig, Virchow, and Helmholtz, have also made admirable attempts to render their subjects intelligible and interesting to ordinary readers. Büchner and Vogt have considerable merit as popular scientific authors, but their writings are marred by a polemical tendency, which induces them to dogmatize on metaphysical questions beyond their proper range.

In historical literature Germany has recently produced many eminent writers. The historian who enjoys the widest popularity is Leopold Ranke, who has instructed two generations by communicating in an agreeable style the results of extensive research in many different fields of inquiry. Gervinus acquired a permanent place as an historian by his excellent History of the Nineteenth Century. Works of high value have also proceeded from Giesebrecht, who has written on the Holy Roman Empire with enthusiastic appreciation of the great emperors; from Droysen, the diligent historian of Prussia; from Dahlmann, whose labours included German, English, French, and Danish history; from Häusser, whose masterpiece is an elaborate history of Germany since the death of Frederick the Great; from Waitz, the chief authority on the growth of the German constitution; from Sybel, by whose researches much new light has been thrown on the French Revolution; from Mommsen, the vigorous historian of ancient Rome; and from Curtius, whose history of Greece is not more remarkable for its learning than for the clear and attractive arrangement of its materials. Of late years much attention has been devoted to “Culturgeschichte,” which describes the life of a people in all its phases, either through the whole past or during a particular epoch. A favourable example of works of this class is Karl Biedermann’s Germany in the Eighteenth Century.

Recent German literature is extraordinarily rich in histories of the individual elements of intellectual development. In its histories of philosophy it is absolutely supreme. Hegel still ranks as one of the greatest historians of philosophy, although the value of his expositions is lowered by a tendency to find his own doctrine in preceding thinkers. Erdmann, Schwegler, and Ueberweg were among the most important workers in the same department; and with them may be named Kuno Fischer, who writes the history of philosophy with a striking power of sympathetic appreciation and in a fascinating literary style. Less attractive in manner than Fischer, Lange, in his History of Materialism, did full justice for the first time to the different phases of materialistic philosophy, and is especially happy in the skill with which he traces the growth of a recognition of law in the phenomena of nature. Since Lessing, aesthetics have always formed a prominent branch of philosophy among the Germans; and they have hardly been less successful as historians of art than as historians of metaphysics. High distinction has been achieved, among other art historians, by Kugler, Vischer, Carrière, and Lübke. Of historians of literature, especially German literature, there is almost a small army. One of the earliest of these was Gervinus, who, although his critical canons are not now in favour, had an unusual faculty for grouping his materials and sharply defining what seemed to him the essential qualities of particular writers and movements. The history of German literature by Vilmar, although written in an eloquent style, is too partial in its judgments to have permanent value. Koberstein is remarkable rather for industry than for insight; but the literary histories of Julian Schmidt and Gυttschall are both marked by decisive, often penetrating, critical judgment. One of the best works of this kind for style, thought, and research is Hettner’s elaborate History of Literature in the Eighteenth Century.

The Germans possess a vast mass of biographical literature, a large proportion of which is rendered almost worthless by inartistic treatment. Luther alone forms the subject of more than one hundred and fifty biographies; yet a satisfactory study of the Reformer has still to be written. In recenttimes, however, there has been amarked improvement, several biographers having conscientiously striven not only to be thorough in research but to write simply, clearly, and vividly. The first to set a good example was Varnhagen von Ense, whose numerous biographies are masterpieces of well ordered and dignified prose. Germany owes an admirable biography of Ulrich von Hutten to Strauss, who also wrote interesting sketches of several prominent modern authors. Other biographies which deserve mention are Karl Grün’s philosophical study of Feuerbach, Rosenkranz’s scholar-like life of Diderot, and Justi’s life of Winckelmann. The popularity of Mr Lewes’s life of Goethe for a long time deterred German writers from touching a subject he had handled with so much talent; but of late there has been a remarkable revival of interest in Goethe, and Hermann Grimm has ventured to present a fresh study of his intellectual and moral character.

In imaginative literature the greatest writer of the latest period is Heinrich Heine. No German writer since Goethe and Schiller has excited so much interest throughout Europe, and among the Germans themselves his fame is steadily rising. He professed to care little for what men said of his poetry, yet it is mainly as a lyrical poet that his name lives. His Buch der Lieder is one of the most fascinating collections of lyrics in European literature. Although a deadly enemy of the Romantic school, he had moods, especially in youth, in which he shared its dreaminess and mysticism; and these qualities he expressed in some of his best songs, but with perfect grace of style and melody. He struck with equally finished art chords of passion and aspiration beyond the range of even the chief Romanticists, for Heine was in every respect a modern man, penetrated by a love of freedom, and by a high enthusiasm for beauty. Except Goethe, no other German poet achieves his effects by such simple means; with the language of a village maiden he gives shape to feelings and ideas of exquisite refinement and subtlety. His satirical poems are sometimes gross and cynical; but none of them are without touches of humour. In his pro≡e, which deals with a wide range of subjects, he is rather French than German in his love of sparkling epigram and biting wit Almost every theme, however sacred, gives Heine occasion for mockery, but in the midst of cruel laughter he is often restrained by a pathetic memory, which he expresses with unsurpassed delicacy. This combination of pathos, wit, and humour giveshim a unique place in the literature of his country.

Platen, who belongs rather to the previous period, was one of the many writers whom Heine bitterly attacked, but he was a poet of considerable power. Like Heine himself, he failed in the drama; and even in his successful writings he is not remarkable for wealth of thought or depth of feeling. His odes and sonnets, however, are in language and metre so artistically finished as to rank among the best classical poems of modern times. Börne was another writer whose fame, although the two men were at one time warm friends, suffered from Heine’s satire. He was a manly literary critic, and as a political writer dealt at the despotic Governments of Germany blows which they keenly felt.

A school of writers known as Young Germany was deeply influenced by Heine, and had the good fortune to be singled out for persecution by the confederate diet. Their object was to effect a complete revolution in the political and social institutions of Germany, and at the same time they became the propagandists of ideas intended to undermine the church. The most important member of the school was Karl Gutzkow, who wrote a number of dramas which maintain their hold of the stage. He was also the author of many romances, of which the chief were Die Ritter vom Geiste (“The Knights of the Mind”) and Der Zauberer von Roni (“The Magician of Rome”). These works are of enormous length, and their polemical tendency has already begun to weaken their interest. But the leading characters are genuine creations, and the incidents are interwoven with great artistic skill. Heinrich Laube, another member of the group, is the author of an historical romance, The German War, which represents, in a clear, fresh, and vivid style, the condition of Germany during the Thirty Years’ War. He has also enriched the stage with several excellent plays. Less important authors associated with these writers were Gustav Kühne, Theodor Mundt, and Ludolf Wienbarg—the latter universally recognized as a keen and vigorous critic.

The novel has acquired the same important place in Germany as in France and England, and it need scarcely be said that the vast majority of works of this class are forgotten almost as soon as they are issued. One of the most distinguished of recent novelists is Gustav Frey tag, whose chief work, Soll und Haben (“Debit and Credit”), is a study of commercial life intensely realistic in tendency. Lately he has undertaken a series of romances, Die Ahnen (“The Forefathers”), intended to represent in a highly poetic form the different epochs of German history. Important historical romances have been written by Levin Schücking, who is remarkable for his power of vividly conceiving character. The Countess Ida Hahn-Hahn is the writer of a number of novels in an artificial style, affecting to represent good society. Her manner has been cleverly satirized by Fanny Lewaid, who is one of the best German novelists, keen and true in observation of life, and artistic in method. Paul Heyse’s short tales have firmness of outline, and are at the same time full of delicate grace; as a writer of elaborate romance, he has also achieved success. The humour of Hackländer is generally considered to surpass that of any other recent writer; and among the novelists of simple village life Auerbach easily takes the first place. Frederick Spielhagen has penetrated deeply into the spirit of the age, and in Problematische Haturen (“Problematic Natures”) and other works reveals its tendencies with cultivated imaginative force. The novels of Fritz Reuter, although written in Platt Deutsch, take high rank; they are fresh in style, and combine keen observation of life with a fine appreciation of comic effect.

Contemporary literature has not, as in England, been divorced from the stage; the best imaginative writers find scope for their energies in work for the theatre. Besides Gutzkow and Laube, Gottschall has been a fertile writer both of tragedy and comedy; Freytag also, and Prutz, are original dramatic authors. The dramas of Christian Grabbe, full of eccentricity, but with a certain wild power, originated a movement resembling to some extent that of the “Sturm und Drang” poets. Its chief representative was Hebbel, a writer endowed with imaginative gifts, but who marred every play by affectation and extravagance. Freiherr von Münch-Bellinghausen, known as Friedrich Halm, author of Der Fechter von Pavenna (“The Gladiator of Ravenna”), and Mosenthal, author of Deborah, achieved distinction by aiming at something higher than mere stage effect. Paul Lindau is the author of some refined comedies, and Adolf Wilbrandt has written both comedies and tragedies which meet the taste of Vienna. Charlotte Birch-Pfeiffer and Roderich Benedix were prolific writers of plays with the sort of merit that belongs to an intimate knowledge of the technical necessities of the stage.

Many recent writers have attempted lyrical and narrative poetry, some of them with sufficient power to maintain worthily the traditions of German literature. From about 1830 onwards, a group of Austrian poets, more or less political in tendency, commanded the respect of all Germans. The chief was Count von Auersperg, who assumed the name of Anastasius Grün. His first important work was Walks of a Vienna Poet, published in 1831, but his fame rests chiefly on two volumes of lyrics issued some years later. He had enthusiastic faith in the future, and expresses his hopes in verses full of colour, sometimes brilliant and effective. Another Austrian writer, Nicholas Strehlenau, generally called Lenau, gives powerful utterance in several poems to the sorrows of a deeply melancholy nature. Meissner and Hartmann, Bohemian poets, have a considerable reputation, the latter as a writer of great artistic merit, the former as a poet of vivid imagination and free sympathies. Leopold Schefer was for a long time a popular poet, and the genial optimism of his chief book, the Laienbrevier, is interesting because of the contrast it presents to the pessimist tone of more recent writers. Before the revolutionary movements of 1848 a number of writers attempted to force poetry into the service of freedom. Of these one of the best known is Herwegh. He advocated liberty with a vehemence that won for him immense popularity, but the interest of his writings is rather historical than literary. Ferdinand Freiligrath was of a more truly poetic temperament. His poems, although without delicacy, have graphic force, and in his earlier writings he displayed a remarkable talent for reproducing the gorgeous colours of tropical landscape. Other poets who have made verse a means of awakening in the popular mind a passion for political justice are Hoffmann von Fallersleben, who has a considerable command of musical expression, and Franz Dingelstedt, a versatile writer who has done good work as a novelist and dramatist. Gottschall, already named as a dramatist and an historian of literature, began as a political poet, but afterwards gave evidence of disinterested imagination in two narrative poems, Göttin and Zeno. The lyrics of Emmanuel Geibel, some of which are also political, with a conservative tendency, have found favour with nearly all classes; they reveal a gentle and refined spirit, and are written with something of Uhland’s grace. Among the most distinguished contemporary writers iβ Robert Hamerling, whose poetry is remarkable for the boldness of its conceptions and its almost vehement passion.

Since the middle of the 18th century Germany has never been without writers of deep thought and vast research; and in her supreme writers — in Lessing, Goethe, Schiller, and Heine—these qualities have been associated with a feeling for artistic finish which has not been surpassed in England or even in France. But the tendency of German authors beneath the highest rank has been to neglect the laws of expression. Thus there is in Germany an extraordinary quantity of literature which, although the result of great labour, and full of ideas, makes intolerable demands on the patience of readers. The lack of measure and precision has in many cases deprived of nearly all value powers of imagination, reason, and industry, which would have made the literary fortune of a Frenchman. This deficiency of style is in some degree explained by the fact that an undue proportion of German literature has hitherto been addressed, not to the public, but to specialists, who naturally concern themselves more with substance than with form. During the present generation there have been symptoms of a remarkable change. Ever since the Germans began to feel that they are one people, arid to strive after political unity, an increasing number of scholars and thinkers have displayed an ambition to extend their influence, while several imaginative writers have consciously appealed to the nation as a whole. The inevitable result has been that they have aimed at more methodical arrangement than their predecessors, and have cultivated greater force, simplicity, and directness of speech. Nothing has fostered this wholesome tendency so much as the growing respect of the nation for the great masters of its language, a respect indicated by the new editions of their writings which appear year after year. The higher class of poets, dramatists, and novelists have also profited by the deepening conviction that the function of art is not to battle with practical evils, but to create a world of ideal beauty in which the mind may find refuge from the perplexities of real life.

Bibliography. —Koberstein, Grundriss der deutschen Nationalliteratur; Gervinus, Geschichte der poetischen Nationalliteratur der Deutschen; Vilmar, Vorlesungen über die Geschichte der deutschen Nationalliteratur; Goedeke, Grundriss zur Geschichte der deutschen Dichtung; Kurz, Geschichte der deutschen Literatur; Hettner, Literaturgeschichte des 18 ea Jahrhunderts; Julian Schmidt, Geschichte des geistigen Lebens in Deutschland von Leibniz bis auf Lessing's Tod, and Geschichte der deutschen Literatur im 19«» Jahrhundert; Gottschall, Geschichte der deutschen Natwnalliteratur in der ersten Hälfte des 19«» Jahrhunderts-, Gostwick and Harrison, Outlines of German Literature. (J· SI·)

Index.

Academies, 472. Adelaide, queen, 483. Administration, 463. Adolf of Nassau, 493. Agnes, empress, 487. Agriculture, 451.

Albert I. of Austria, 493. Albert II., 496.

Alemanni, 476.

Alcmannian language, 519.

Alsace taken by France, 502; restored to Germany, 513.

Animats, 451.

Anno, archbishop, 487. Area, 447.

Arminius, 475.

Army, statistics of, 467; ancient, 474.

Arndt, Ernst Moritz, 543.

Amdt, Johann, 529. Arnim, Achim von, 542. Arnulf, 481.

Aschaffenburg, concordat of, 496.

Asphalt, 453.

Attila, 476.

Aue, Hartmann von, 523.

Augsburg confession, 498; peace of, 499.

Austria erected a duchy, 490; wars of, with the Turks, 496; under Maria Theresa, 503; shattered by Napoleon, 504; Prussia's jealousy of, 505, 508; revolution of 1848, 507; war with Prussia, 511.

Ballads, early, 524. Banking, 466. Barbarossa, 489.

Barditus, 522.

Basedow, 540.

Bavaria, 476; incorporated by Charlemagne, 479.

Bavarian language, 517. Bee culture, 452.

Beetroot sugar, 451.

Berengar of Lombardy, 483.

Berlin assembly, 507. Berthold the monk, 526. Bibliography, 472, 514, 546.

Biography, writers on, 545.

Bismarck, 510, 514.

Boehme, Jacob, 529. Boniface, St, 478.

Book trade, 472. Bouvines, battle of, 491. Brandenburg granted to Frederick of Hohenzollern, 495.

Brandt, Sebastian, 527.

Breitenfeld, battle of, 500.

Bremer Beiträge, 533.

Bremen, trade of, 463.

Breteslaus of Bohemia, 487.

Breweries, 451.

Brockes, poet, 532. Bund, the, 509.

Bürger, 540. Burgundians, 475. Burgundy bequeathed to

Conrad II., 487.

Caesar, Julius, 474.

Canals, 460.

Canossa, Henry IV.’s penance at, 488.

Carlsbad decrees, 505. Catholic league, 500. Census statistics, 455.

Chamisso, 542.

Charlemagne, 478.

Charles Martel, 477.

Charles the Great, 478. Charles the Bald, 480.

Charles the Fat, 481.

Charles IV., 495.

Charles V., 497.

Charles VI., 502.

Charles VΠ., 503. Chiefs, ancient, 474.

Childeric, 476.

Chivalry, age of, 492; literature of, 523.

Chloride of potash, 455.

Christianity, introduction of, 478,

Chronicles, prose, 527.

Church statistics, 468.

Church and state, 'relations of (1872), 513.

Cities, statistics of population of, 457; imperial, 492-4; power of, 495; influence of, on literature, 526.

Civilis, 475.

Classical period of literature, 536

Classics, revival of study of, 532.

Claudius, Matthias, 541.

Clergy under Charlemagne, 479.

Climate, 450.

Clovis, 476.

Coal, 453.

Coast-line, 447. Commerce, 462.

Confederation of tιibes, 475.

Confederation, German, 505; North German, 512

Conrad T.. 482.

Conrad II, 486.

Conrad III., 489.

Conrad IV. ,492.

Conrad von wiirzhurg,

524.

Copper, 454.

Cotton manufacture, 458 Council, first German, 478.

Court poets, 531.

Crimean war, 509.

Crops, 451.

Crusade, flrst and second, 4S9.

Crusade period, literature of, 523.

Currency, 466.

Customs parliament, 512. Customs revenue, 465.

Customs union, 505.

Danes, subjection of, 483.

Danish war of 1848, 507; of 1864, 511.

Debt, imperial, 466.

Dialects, 516.

Didactic poets, 525

Diet rendered permanent, 501; decay of, 505; restored, 508; imperial (1871), 513

Diets, local, 496.

Drama, rise of, 526; growth of, 529, 533.

Dukes, 477, 479.

Dürer, Albert, 529. Dutch language, 516.

Eckart, 526.

Edict of restitution, 500. Education statistics, 470. Eichendorff, 542.

Electors, 492.

Emigration statistics, 456. Emperor, title of, 479.

Empire, connexion of

Germany with the, 484. Empire of 1871, 513. English literature, influence of, 533.

Erfurt parliament, 508. Excise, 465.

Excommunication of Henry IV., 488; of Louis IV.,494.

Exports, 462.

Fables, writers of, 534. Fate-tragedies, 543. Federal council statistics, 464.

Fehmgerichte, 495.

Ferdinand I., 499.

Ferdinand II., 500.

Ferdinand III., 502.

Feudalism, 479; growth of, 481.

Fichte’s philosophy, 541.

Finance statistics, 464. Fine arts, 472. Fischart, Johann, 528. Fishes, 452.

Fleming, Paul, 530. Foreign residents, 457. ' Forests, 451.

Fortresses, 467.

Fouqué, De la Motte, 542. France, Otto’s invasion of, 483; war with Austria (1859), 510; with Germany (1870), 512.

Francis I., 503. Franconian dynasty, 486. Frankfort assembly, 506; peace of, 513. Frankish kingdom, 476. Frederick Barbarossa, 489.

Frederick II., 491. Frederick III., 494. Frederick IV., 496. Frederick II. of Prussia

(the Great), 503, his Influence on literature,

532.

Frederick william If.

(Prussia), 504. Frederick William III.

(Prussia), 504. Frederick William IV.

(Prussia), 505. Freemen, 473. French Revolution of

1789, 504; its effect on literature, 540; of 1830, 505; of 1848, 506. Frisian language, 515. Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft, 530.

Funds of the empire, 465. Game, 452.

Gastein convention, 511. Gaus, 476.

Gellert, dramatist, 533 Geography, 447. Geology, 447.

Gerhardt, Paul, 530.

German kingdom, commencement of, 480; confederation, 505; empire of 1871, 513.

Germanicus, 475. Gero, margrave, 483. Gervinus, historian, 544. Gleim, poet, 534.

Gods, ancient, 474. Goethe, 537; imitators of, 541.

Gold, 454.

Golden Bull, 495. Goths, 475.

Gottfried of Strasburg, 524.

Göttingen school of poets,

540.

Gottsched, dramatist, 533. Götz von Berlichingen,

529.

Government, 463 Graphite, 453.

Gregory VII., pope, 488. Grillparzer, 543. Grimmelshausen, 531. Gryphius, 530.

Gudrun, 524. Günther, poet, 532 Gustavus Adolphus, 500. Haffs, 447.

Hagedorn, poet, 533. Hainbund poets, 540. Halle school of poets, 534.

Hamburg, trade of, 463. Hanseatic league, 493, 495.

Hapsburg, rise of house of, 493; accession of, 496.

Hardenberg, 542. Hartmann von Aue, 523. Hegel, 544.

Heine, Heinrich, 545. Heinse, Wilhelm, 541. Heldenbuch, 525.

Hemp manufacture, 459.

Henry I., 482.

Henry II., 4S6.

Henry III., 487.

Henry IV., 487.

Henry V., 489.

Henry VI., 490.

Henry VII., 493.

Henry the Lion, 499.

Henry the Proud, 489. Herder, 537.

Hesse-Cassel disturbances, 508.

High German language,

517.

Hildebrandslied, 522.

History, 473.

History, writers of, 535, 543, 544.

Hoffmannswaldau, 531.

Hohenstaufen dynasty, 489; literature of the period, 523.

Holy Roman empire, 484; end of, 504.

Hops, 451.

Houses, statistics of, 458. Humanists, 527.

Humboldt, Alexander von, 544.

Hussite war, 495.

Hutten, Ulrich von, 498, 528.

Hymns, 529, 534. ∏lland, dramatist, 541. Illegitimacy, 456.

Imperial cities, 492 Imperial diet (1871), 513 Imperial title, 479, 484.

Imports, 462.

Industries, 458. Investitures, war of, 488. Iron, 453.

Islands, 447.

Italy, invasion of, by Otto !.. 483; by Otto II.. 485; by Barbarossa, 490; war in (1859), 510.

Jacobi, Friedrich, 541. Jesuit influence, 500. Joseph II., 504.

Jute manufacture, 459. Kant, Immanuel, 540. Kanzleisprachen, 520. Kleist, E. C. von, 534. Kleist, Heinrich von, 543. Klopstock, 535.

Kotzebue, 541.

Krieg auf der Wartburg,

525.

Lakes, 450.

Language, 514.

Languages, statistics of, 470.

Lavater, 540.

Lead, 454.

Learning, monastic, 522. Lechfeld, battle of, 484. Leibnitz, 532.

Leipsic, battle of, 5C4. Leopold I., 502.

Leopold II., 504.

Lessing, 536.

Letters, statistics of, 460 Liberalism in Prussia, 510

Libraries, 472.

Lichtenstein, 525. Lignite, 453.

Linen manufacture, 459.

Literary societies, establishment of, 530, 533.

Literature, 522.

Live stock, 451.

Logau, 531.

Lohenstein, poet, 531. Lorraine passes to France, 502.

Lothair, 480.

Lothair the Saxon, 489. Louis the Pious, 479. Louis the German, 480. Louis the Child, 481. Louis d’Outremer, 483. Louis IV., 494.

Louis XIV. of France, 502.

Low German language, 516.

Ludwigslied, 522.

Luther, 497: language of, 520; literary work of, 528.

Lützen, battle of, 501.

Luxembourg dynasty, 491.

Lyrics in age of chivalry, 525, 529; religious,

534.

Magyars, 481; defeat of, at Lechfeld, 484.

Maria Theresa, 503.

Maroboduus, 475. Matthias, emperor, 499.

Maurice of Saxony, 499.

Maximilian I., 496; en-couragesliterature, 527.

Maximilian II., 499.

Meistersänger, 226. Mendelssohn, Moses, 534.

Merovingian kings, 477.

Metals, 453.

Middle German language,

518.

Migrations of tribes, 475.

Minerals, 452.

Mines, 452.

Minnesänger, 525.

Minstrels, 522.

Miracle plays, 526.

Modern High German language, 520.

Monastic learning, 522.

Money, 466.

Moscherosch, 531.

Möser, Justus, 535.

Mosheim, 535.

Mountains, 448.

Mumer, Thomas, 527.

Mysteries, 526.

Mystics, 526.

Mythology, ancient, 474.

Napoleon Bonaparte, 504. Napoleon III., 512.

Narrenschiff, 527.

National Liberals, 512.

National literature, 535, 543.

Navy, statistics of, 468. Neuchâtel affair, 510.

Newspapers, 472.

Nibelungenlied, 524.

Nicolai. 534.

Nimeguen, peace of, 502.

Nobles, increase of. 484; mediate, 486; discontent of, 498.

North German Confederation, 512.

Northmen, 481.

Novalis, 542.

Novelists, modern, 545.

Observatories, 472.

Occupations, statistics of, 458.

Old German language, 516.

Opitz, Martin, 530.

Otto I., 483.

Otto II., 485.

Otto III., 485.

Otto IV., 491.

Papacy,degraded state of, temp. Henry III., 487.

Parzival, 524.

Patriotic writers. 535, 543.

Peasants’ war, 498.

Pegnitzschäfer, 531.

Petroleum, 453

Pfahlbürger, 493

Philip of Hohenstaufen, 491.

Philological writers. 543.

Philosophy, development of, 532; popular, 534; modern, 544.

Physical features, 447. Pietistic movement, 532.

Pippin, 477.

Pippin of Aquitania, 480.

Plains, 448, 449

Plateaus, 448.

Poetry, ancient, 522; court, 531; didactic, 525; recent, 546.

Poland, partition of, 503.

Poles, early allegiance of, 486.

Population, statistics of, 455; density of, 457.

Ports, principal, 463.

Post-office, 460.

Pragmatic sanctions, 492, 502.

Prague, peace of, 511.

Preaching, influence of (13th century), 526.

Principalities, division of,

492.

Prose, rise of, in literature, 525.

Prose writers, 529.

Protestant Union and

Catholic League, 500.

Prussia, early conquest of, 491; growth of, 503; reform in 1848, 507; war with Austria, 511.

Railways, 459.

Rainfall, 450.

Ranke, Leopold, 544.

Raspe, Henry, 491.

Rastislaus, 480.

Reformation, period of, 497; influence of, on literature, 528.

Reichsgericht, 514.

Reichstag statistics, 464.

Reineke Vos, 527.

Religion, statistics of, 468; ancient. 474.

Renaissance, influence of. on the people. 497; on literature. 527.

Representation statistics, 464.

Restitution, edict of, 500. Revolution, French, of 1789, 504; of 1830,505.

Revolutions of 1848, 506.

Reynard the Fox, 527.

Rhenish confederation,

493, 504.

Richter, Jean Paul, 541.

Rivers, 449.

Roads, 459.

Roman emperor, title of. 479, 484.

Roman invasion and conquest, 474.

Romances, poetical, 527; of 17th century, 531.

Romantic school of poets, modern. 541.

Rückert, 543.

Rudolf I., 493,

Rudolf II.,499.

Rupert, elector, 495.

Sachs, Hans, 528. Sachsenspiegel, 525.

Salic code, 476.

Salt, 455.

Sancta Clara, satirist, 531.

Saxon dynasty, 482.

Saxon school of literature,

533.

Saxons, 477.

Saxony, conquest of, 478; hostility of, to Henry IV., 488.

Schiller, 538; imitators of,

541.

Schlegel, A. W. von, 542.

Schlegel, F. von, 542.

Schleiermacher, 543.

Schleswig-Holstein question, 507, 510.

Schools, statistics of, 471.

Schopenhauer, 544. Schubart, 540,

Schupp, 531. Schwdbenspiegd, 525.

Science, recent, 544. Scientific societies, 472.

Sedan, battle of, 513,

Seven Weeks' War, 511.

Seven Years’ War, 503; its effect on literature, 536.

Sexes, proportion of, 456.

Shipping, 461.

Sigismund, 495.

Silesian school of poets, first, 530; second, 531.

Silesian war, 503.

Silk, 459.

Silver, 454.

Slavs, 476, 480, 483.

Smalkald league, 498.

Socialism, 513.

Societies, scientific, 472; literary, establishment of, 530, 533.

Spanish succession, war of, 502.

States of the empire, 455.

Statistics, 447.

Stilling, Jung, 541.

Strauss, 544.

Stuπn und Drang movement, 536, 540.

Suso, 526.

Swabian league. 495.

Swabian school of poets» 543.

Swiss league, 494.

Swiss school of poets, 533.

Switzerland threatened by Prussia, 510.

Tauler, 526.

Taxation statistics, 465.

Telegraphs, 461.

Tell, william, 494.

Temperature, 450.

Theatres, early, 529, 530. Tħeodoric, 477.

Theologians, liberal, 535.

Thirty Years' War, 500; its effect on literature,

530.

Thomasius, 532.

Tieck, 542.

Tilly, 500.

Tobacco, 451.

Towns, statistics of population of, 457; Roman origin of, 475; fortification of, 482.

Trade, statistics of, 462.

Trades, industrial, 458.

Tribes, ancient, 473; confederations of, 475.

Tyll Eulenspiegel, 527.

Uhland. 543.

Union, German, 508.

Universities, 471.

Vandals, 476.

Vegetation, 450.

Verdun, treaty of, 480.

Vienna, congress of, 504.

Village constitution, 473. Vine culture, 451.

Vital statistics, 456.

Voss, 541.

Wackenroder, 542.

Wallenstein, 500.

Walther von der Vogelweide, 525.

Weckherlin, poet, 530.

Wenceslaπs of Bohemia, 495.

Wernicke, 532.

Westphalia, peace of, 501.

Wieland, 535; imitators of, 541.

William I. (of Prussia),

510; crowned emperor, 513.

lVinckelmann, 535.

Wine, 451.

Wolf, 532.

Wolfram von Eschenbach, 524.

Woollen manufacture,459.

Worms, concordat of,

489; diet of (1495), 497.

Zinc, 454.

Zollverein, states of, 455 ,∙ formation of, 505.