The Chautauquan, February 1884

A MONTHLY MAGAZINE DEVOTED TO THE PROMOTION OF TRUE CULTURE. ORGAN OF THE CHAUTAUQUA LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CIRCLE.

Vol. IV. FEBRUARY, 1884. No. 5.

Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.

President—Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio.

Superintendent of Instruction—Rev. J. H. Vincent, D.D., New Haven, Conn.

Counselors—Rev. Lyman Abbott, D.D.; Rev. J. M. Gibson, D.D.; Bishop H. W. Warren, D.D.; Prof. W. C. Wilkinson, D.D.

Office Secretary—Miss Kate F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J.

General Secretary—Albert M. Martin, Pittsburgh, Pa.

Contents

REQUIRED READING
FOR THE
Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle for 1883-4.
FEBRUARY.

GERMAN HISTORY.

By Rev. W. G. WILLIAMS, A.M.

V.

The present and last of this series of readings in German history includes an outline of the historical changes and great events of the period of nearly four hundred years since the Reformation. Though condensed to a very great degree, it furnishes the reader a survey of that important period, and will afford him a helpful basis for his future study of the history of Germany. The reading closes with a selection from the pen of the poet and historian, Schiller, descriptive of the battle of Lutzen, where Gustavus Adolphus, that greatest character and hero of the Thirty Years’ War, met his fate.

SUMMARY OF GERMAN HISTORY FROM THE REFORMATION TO THE PRESENT TIME.

From the death of Luther, 1546, to the end of the century the struggle continued. Now and then there came a brief pause to the general strife, such as followed the Treaty of Passau, or the Religious Peace of Augsburg, but it was soon renewed by the tyranny or treachery of the Catholic powers, whose hatred of the followers of Luther and of the spirit of protestantism did not abate till Europe had passed through the most terrible and disastrous war of history. This was the thirty years’ war, dating from 1618 to 1648, and involving not only the whole German Empire, but also the principal states of Europe. Seldom, if ever, has there been known such depletion of population and resources. It was finally brought to an end by the peace of Westphalia, when the worn-out and impoverished states subscribed to a treaty which gave comparative toleration in Germany. Under its conditions, in all religious questions Protestants were to have an equal weight with Catholics in the high courts and diet of the empire. The Calvinists were also included with the Lutheran and Reformed creeds in this religious peace. By its termination of the religious wars in Europe the peace of Westphalia forms a great landmark in history.

The seventeenth century, from the thirty years’ war on to its close, might not inappropriately be called the period of pusillanimity in Germany. Public buildings, schools and churches were allowed to stand as ruins while the courts of petty princes were aping the stiff, formal, artificial manners of that of the French monarch, Louis XIV. The latter seeing the weakened state of the empire seized the opportunity to enlarge his own kingdom at the expense of Germany. He laid claim to Brabant and many of the fortresses of the frontier fell into the hands of the French. His ambition was only checked by the intervention of Holland, England and Sweden, and the war terminated by the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle. Meanwhile the Turks in alliance with the Hungarians marched with an army of 200,000 up the Danube and encamped around the walls of Vienna. There is good evidence that they were aided and abetted in this invasion by Louis XIV. The Emperor Leopold fled, leaving his capital to its fate. But the little guard of 13,000 men under Count Stahremberg held the fortifications against the invader’s overwhelming force till Duke Charles of Lorraine and the Elector of Saxony with their armies, and still another army of 20,000 Poles under their king John Sobieski came to their relief. The Turkish army was routed and driven into Hungary. All this time Louis, like an eager bird of prey, was watching Germany. Finally, in 1688, two powerful French armies appeared upon the Rhine. The allied states at last saw their imminent danger and rallied to resist and drive back the common foe. Louis resolved to ruin if he could not possess the country; so he adopted a course than which a more wanton and barbarous was never known, even in the annals of savagism. Vines were pulled up, fruit-trees cut down, and villages burned to the ground. Multitudes of defenseless people were slain in cold blood, and 400,000 persons beggared. Germany, aroused at last, now entered with vigor into the war with France, and carried it on till both sides were weary and exhausted. It was concluded by the Treaty of Ryswick.

The eighteenth century dawned, still to witness Germany the arena of war. Indeed from earliest history her soil, especially along the Rhine, had been the battle-ground of Europe. This time it was the war of the Spanish succession, whose tangled episodes and details we can not undertake to follow. It will be remembered by the student of history for its great battle of Blenheim, where the allied armies under the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene defeated and routed the French. Louis XIV. was now old, infirm, and tired of war, and hence consented to a treaty of peace, which was concluded March 7, 1714.

The century now begun witnessed the rise of Prussia out of the German chaos and the wonderful and brilliant career of Frederick the Great. It also saw the stronger and more enlightened reigns of Maria Theresa and Joseph II. in Austria.

Though the wars never ceased, breaking out again in one quarter while peace was being concluded in another, yet the century as a whole gave prophesy of a coming better state of affairs.

The grandfather of Frederick the Great had founded the university of Halle in 1694, and in 1711 an academy of science was established in Berlin upon a plan drawn up by the philosopher Leibnitz. Frederick William I., father of Frederick the Great, though coarse and brutal in his nature, had the wisdom to see the importance of German education and of breaking off from the established custom of imitating French manners and life. He accordingly established four hundred schools among the people, and by the vigor and economy of his reign contributed to the development of the character and individuality of his people. Frederick the Great and his rival, Maria Theresa, possessed greater elements of personal character and intelligence than their predecessors, and hence gave to their subjects, if not a more liberal form, at least a higher order of government. Contemporary with these was the beginning of that literary bloom which, by the genius of Lessing, Herder, Klopstock, Goethe and Schiller, gave to Germany a glory surpassing all she has ever achieved, either by war or statesmanship.

We have now reached, just before the beginning of the nineteenth century, the time of the French Revolution. It was a time that required great political prudence on the part of the rulers in Germany. Unhappily the successors of Frederick the Great and Joseph II. were incompetent to their responsibilities. That great military genius that rose out of the turmoil and chaos of the revolution in France is soon marching through Germany, and on the 6th of August, 1806, Francis II., the last of the line, laid down his title of “Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire of the German nation” at the feet of Napoleon. Thus, just a thousand years after Charlemagne the empire of his founding passed away. It had culminated under the Hohenstauffens, and for a long time before its formal burial had existed in tradition rather than in fact. Truly may it be said that Germany was as far as ever from being a nation at the beginning of our century.

From 1806 to 1814 Germany underwent the humiliation of subjection to the power of Napoleon. By a succession of victories, such as Jena and Auerstädt, he cowed the spirit of the German princes and proceeded to construct the famous “Rhine-Bund” which made him protector over a territory embracing fourteen millions of German inhabitants, and imposed upon the states and principalities included conditions the most exacting and disgraceful. Prussia and Austria, which held out at first, were also compelled by force of his victorious armies to yield, and Napoleon dictated terms to all Germany. He marched in triumph into Berlin and Vienna; he changed boundaries, levied troops, prescribed the size of their standing armies at will, and when he set out on his campaign against Alexander of Prussia 200,000 previously conquered Germans marched at his command. Such was the abject state of Germany during those years when it seemed that all Europe must bend before the insatiate conqueror. But in the year 1813 the spirit of liberty began to live again. The revival began, however, not with the princes, but in the breasts of the people. The works of the great German authors were becoming familiar to them and were producing their effect. Klopstock was awakening a pride in the German name and race; Schiller was thrilling the popular heart with his doctrine of resistance to oppression, whilst the songs of Körner and Arndt were inspiring courage and hope. All classes of the people participated in the uprising, and within a few months Prussia had an army of 270,000 soldiers in the field ready to resist the power of France. This was the beginning of the turn in the tide of affairs which led in 1815 to the overthrow of Napoleon at Waterloo, and gave liberation to Germany.

The remaining history of the present century is that of the Confederation formed in 1815 and lasting till 1866; of the North German Confederation which succeeded the above, and continued to the establishing of the present empire in 1871, as a result of the Franco-Prussian war; and of the new empire to the present time. The confederation of 1815, known as the “Deutscher Bund,” embraced a part of Austria, most of Prussia, the kingdoms of Bavaria, Würtemberg, Saxony and Hanover, the electorate of Hesse-Cassel, a number of duchies, principalities and free cities; in all thirty-nine states.

When in 1866 the “Bund” was dissolved and the North German Confederation formed, Austria was excluded, and Prussia assumed the headship of the new compact which embraced the states north of the Main. The term Germany, from 1866 to 1871, designated the new Confederation, and the four South German States, Bavaria, Würtemberg, Baden and Hesse Darmstadt. The four latter had been made independent states, but were united with the North German Confederation by the Zollverein, and by alliances offensive and defensive.

The late war between France and Germany belongs to the history of the present generation. Its great events and changes to Germany are within the memory of many of our readers. It will be longest remembered because of its association with the formation of the present empire. While the siege of Paris was yet in progress (January 1871) the spirit of enthusiasm became so great, and the desire for national unity so strong, that the various sovereign states, as well as the members of the Confederation determined on a revival of the empire. At their joint instance, in the great hall of Louis XIV., at Versailles, King William of Prussia received the imperial crown with the title of German Emperor. Under this new empire the whole German nation, Austria alone excepted, is united more closely than it has been for more than six hundred years, or since the Great Interregnum. It is not too much to say that the last decade has been the brightest and most prosperous in German history. The new empire has made possible and developed a feeling of patriotism which could not exist while the race was divided into fifty or more separate states. It was the complaint of her greatest poet, Goethe, that there was no united Germany to awaken pride and patriotism in the German heart. That condition of things is now done away by the present national government, which, though retaining many of the imperial features of the past, has, at the same time, embodied some of the more liberal governmental ideas of the present age. Such, for instance, is the election by direct universal suffrage and by ballot, of the Reichstag, one of the two legislative councils of the empire. The German name was never more respected and honored throughout the world than it is to-day; not alone for her eminent position among the powers of Europe, but for her high rank in the empires of art, philosophy and science. Her great universities are admired wherever in the world there is appreciation for scholarship, industry and genius. If the present has any right to prophesy it must be that the coming years contain for Germany less of wars and dissension, more of peace, coöperation and unity.

BATTLE OF LUTZEN—DEATH OF GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS.

“At last the fateful morning dawned, but an impenetrable fog, which spread over the plain, delayed the attack till noon.… ‘God with us!’ was the war cry of the Swedes; ‘Jesus Maria!’ that of the Imperialists. About eleven the fog began to disperse, and the enemy became visible. At the same moment Lutzen was seen in flames, having been set on fire by command of the duke, to prevent his being outflanked on that side. The charge was now sounded; the cavalry rushed upon the enemy, and the infantry advanced against the trenches.

“Received by a tremendous fire of musketry and heavy artillery, these intrepid battalions maintained the attack with undaunted courage, till the enemy’s musketeers abandoned their posts, the trenches were passed, the battery carried and turned against the enemy. They pressed forward with irresistible impetuosity; the first of the five imperial brigades was immediately routed, the second soon after, and the third put to flight. But here the genius of Wallenstein opposed itself to their progress. With the rapidity of lightning he was on the spot to rally his discomfited troops; and his powerful word was itself sufficient to stop the flight of the fugitives. Supported by three regiments of cavalry, the vanquished brigades, forming anew, faced the enemy, and pressed vigorously into the broken ranks of the Swedes. A murderous conflict ensued.… In the meantime the king’s right wing, led by himself, had fallen upon the enemy’s left. The first impetuous shock of the heavy Finland cuirassiers dispersed the lightly mounted Poles and Croats, who were posted here, and their disorderly flight spread terror and confusion among the rest of the cavalry. At this moment notice was brought to the king, that his infantry was retreating over the trenches, and also that his left wing, exposed to a severe fire from the enemy’s cannon posted at the windmills, was beginning to give way. With rapid decision he committed to General Horn the pursuit of the enemy’s left, while he flew, at the head of the regiment of Steinback, to repair the disorder of his right wing. His noble charger bore him with the velocity of lightning across the trenches, but the squadrons that followed could not come on with the same speed, and only a few horsemen, among whom was Francis Albert, Duke of Saxe-Lauenberg, were able to keep up with the king. He rode directly to the place where his infantry were most closely pressed, and while he was reconnoitering the enemy’s line for an exposed point to attack, the shortness of his sight unfortunately led him too close to their ranks. An imperial Gefreyter, remarking that every one respectfully made way for him as he rode along, immediately ordered a musketeer to take aim at him. ‘Fire at him yonder,’ said he, ‘that must be a man of consequence.’ The soldier fired, and the king’s left arm was shattered. At that moment his squadron came hurrying up, and a confused cry of ‘the king bleeds! the king is shot!’ spread terror and consternation through all the ranks. ‘It is nothing, follow me,’ cried the king, collecting his whole strength; but overcome by pain, and nearly fainting, he requested the Duke of Lauenberg, in French, to lead him unobserved out of the tumult. While the duke proceeded toward the right wing with the king, to keep this discouraging sight from the disordered infantry, his majesty received a second shot through the back, which deprived him of his remaining strength. ‘Brother,’ said he, with a dying voice, ‘I have enough! look only to your own life.’ At the same moment he fell from his horse, pierced by several more shots; and abandoned by all his attendants, he breathed his last amidst the plundering bands of the Croats. His charger flying without its rider, and covered with blood, soon made known to the Swedish cavalry the fall of their king. They rushed madly forward to rescue his sacred remains from the hands of the enemy. A murderous conflict ensued over the body, till his mangled remains were buried beneath a heap of slain. Bernard, Duke of Saxe-Weimar, gave to the bereaved Swedes a noble leader in his own person; and the spirit of Gustavus led his victorious squadrons anew.

“The sun was setting when the two lines closed. The strife grew hotter as it drew to an end; the last efforts of strength were mutually exerted, and skill and courage did their utmost to repair in these precious moments the fortune of the day. It was in vain; despair endows every one with superhuman strength; no one can conquer, no one will give way. The art of war seemed to exhaust its powers on one side, only to unfold some new and untried masterpiece of skill on the other. Night and darkness at last put an end to the fight, before the fury of the combatants was exhausted; and the contest only ceased, when no one could any longer find an antagonist. Both armies separated, as if by tacit agreement; the trumpets sounded, and each party claiming the victory, quitted the field.”

[End of German History.]

SELECTIONS FROM GERMAN LITERATURE.

ALEXANDER VON HUMBOLDT.

The Cataracts of the Orinoco.

The impression which a scene makes upon us is not so deeply fixed by the peculiarities of the country as by the light, the clear azure or the deep shade of low lying clouds, under which hill and river lie. In the same way descriptions of scenes impress us with more or less force according as they harmonize with our emotions. In our inner susceptible soul the physical world is reflected true and life-like. What gives its peculiar character to a landscape, to the outline of the mountain range which borders the dimly distant horizon, to the darkness of the pine forest, to the mountain stream which rushes madly between overhanging cliffs? They all stand in strange mysterious relations with the inner life of man, and on these relations rest the nobler share of enjoyment which nature affords. Nowhere does she impress us more strongly with consciousness of her greatness; nowhere does she speak more powerfully to us than under the Indian heavens. If I venture here to describe that country may I hope that its peculiar charm will not remain unfelt? The memory of a distant richly-endowed land, the glimpse of a luxuriant, vigorous plant-life refreshes and strengthens the mind as the restless worn spirit finds pleasure in youth and its strength.

Western currents and tropical winds favor the voyage over the peaceful straits which fill up the wide valley between America and western Africa. Before the coast appears one notices that the waves foam and dash over each other. Sailors who were unacquainted with the region would suspect shallows to be near, or fresh water springs, such as are in mid ocean among the Antilles. As the garnet coast of Guiana draws near there appears the wide mouth of a mighty stream. It bursts forth like a shoreless sea and covers the surrounding ocean with fresh water. The name Orinoco which the first discoverers gave to the river, and which owes its origin to a confusion of language, is unknown in the interior of the country, for the uncivilized inhabitants give names to only those objects which might easily be mistaken for others. The Orinoco, the Amazon, the Magdalena are called simply the river, in some cases perhaps, the great river, the great water, when the inhabitants wish to distinguish them from a small stream.

The current which the Orinoco causes between the continent of South America and the island of Trinidad is so powerful that ships which attempt to struggle against it with outspread sails are scarcely able to make any headway. This desolate and dangerous place is called the Gulf of Sorrow; the entrance is the Dragon’s Head. Here lonely cliffs rise tower-like in the raging flood. They mark the old, rocky isthmus which, cut off by the current, once joined the island of Trinidad and the coast of Venezuela.

The appearance of this country first convinced the hardy discoverer, Colon, of the existence of the American continent. Acquainted with nature as he was he concluded that so monstrous a body of fresh water could only be collected by a great number of streams, and that the land which supplied this water must be a continent and not an island. As the followers of Alexander believed the Indus, filled with crocodiles, was a branch of the Nile, so Colon concluded that this new continent was the easterly coast of the far away Asia. The coolness of the evening air, the clearness of the starry firmament, the perfume of the flowers borne on the breeze, all led him to believe that he had approached the garden of Eden, the sacred home of the first human beings. The Orinoco seemed to him one of the four streams which are said to flow from Paradise, and to water the plants of the newly-planted earth.

This poetical passage taken from Colon’s diary has a peculiar interest. It shows anew how the fancies of the poet are in the discoverer as in every great human character.

HEINRICH HEINE.

To Matilda.

Prose Extracts From Heine.

The French are the chosen people of the new religion, its first gospels and dogmas have been drawn up in their language; Paris is the New Jerusalem, and the Rhine is the Jordan which divides the consecrated land of freedom from the land of the Philistines.

When Candide came to Eldorado, he saw in the streets a number of boys who were playing with gold nuggets instead of marbles. This degree of luxury made him imagine that they must be the king’s children, and he was not a little astonished when he found that in Eldorado gold nuggets are of no more value than marbles are with us, and that the school-boys play with them. A similar thing happened to a friend of mine, a foreigner, when he came to Germany and first read German books. He was perfectly astounded at the wealth of ideas which he found in them; but he soon remarked that ideas in Germany are as plentiful as gold nuggets in Eldorado, and that those writers whom he had taken for intellectual princes, were in reality only common school-boys.

The Lorelei.

FRIEDRICH SCHLEIERMACHER.

Extracts From Schleiermacher.

True Pleasure.—Pleasure is a flower which grows indeed of itself, but only in fruitful gardens and well cultivated fields. Not that we should labor in our minds to gain it; but yet he who has not labored for it, with him it will not grow; whoever has not brought out in his own character something profitable and praiseworthy, it is in vain for him to sow. Even he who understands it best can do nothing better for the pleasure of another than that he should communicate to him what is the foundation of his own. Whosoever does not know how to work up the rough stuff for himself, and thereby make it his own, whosoever does not refine his disposition, has not secured for himself a treasure of thoughts, a many sidedness of relations, a view of the world and human things peculiar to himself—such a man knows not how to seize the proper occasion for pleasure, and the most important is assuredly lost for him. It is not the indolent who finds so much difficulty in filling up the time set aside for repose. Who find vexation and ennui in everything? From whom are we hearing never ending complaints about the poverty and dull uniformity of life? Who are most bitter in their lamentations over the slender powers of men for social intercourse, and over the insufficiency of all measures to obtain joy? But this is only what they deserve; for man cannot reap where he has not sown.

The Esteem of the World.—We all consider what is thought of us by those around us as a substantial good. Trust in our uprightness of character, belief in our abilities, and the desire that arises from this to be more intimately connected with us, and to gain our good opinion, everything of this kind is often a more valuable treasure than great riches. Of this the indolent are quite aware. If men would only believe in their capacity without the necessity of producing anything painstaking and really praiseworthy! If they would only agree to take some other proof of their probity and love of mankind than deeds! If they would only accept some other security for their wisdom than prudent language, good counsel, and a sound judgment on the proper mode of conducting the affairs of life! Instead of rising to a true love of honor, such men creep amidst childish vanities, which try to fix the attention of mankind by pitiful trifles and to glitter by shadowy appearances; instead of attempting to reach something really noble, they rest only on external customs; the mental disposition that arises from this is their virtue, and their governing passion is what they regard as understanding.

ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER.

Our inductive science ends with the questions—“Whence?” “Wherefore?” We observe facts, and classify them; but then follows a question respecting the substance that lies behind the facts? What do they express? What is the Will of which they are the Representation?—If we were isolated from the world around us, we could not answer the question. But we are not so isolated. We belong to nature, and nature is included in ourselves. We have in ourselves the laws of the world around us. We find in our own bodies the mechanical laws, and those of the organic life manifested in plants and animals. We have the same understanding which we find working around us in the system of nature. If we consisted only of the body and the understanding, we could not distinguish ourselves from nature. If we know what is in ourselves, we know what is in nature. Now what do we find controlling the facts of our own natural life? An impulse which we may call the Will to live. We often use the word Will in a complex sense, as implying both thought and choice; but in its purest, simplest sense, as the word is used here, it means the impulse, or force, which is the cause of a phenomenon. In this sense, there is a Will from which the movements within the earth and upon its surface derive their origin. It works continuously upward from the forms of crystals, through the forms of zoöphytes, mollusca, annelida, insectia, arachnida, crustacea, pisces, reptilia, aves, and mammalia. There is one Will manifested in the growth of all plants and animals. That which we call a purpose when viewed as associated with intellect, is, when regarded most simply, or in itself, a force or impulse—the natural Will of which we are now speaking. It is the Will to live—the mighty impulse by which every creature is impelled to maintain its own existence, and without any care for the existence of others. It is an unconscious Egoism. Nature is apparently a collection of many wills; but all are reducible to one—the Will to live. Its whole life is a never-ending warfare. It is forever at strife with itself; for it asserts itself in one form to deny itself as asserted in other forms. It is everywhere furnished with the means of working out its purpose. Where the Will of the lion is found, we find the powerful limbs, the claws, the teeth necessary for supporting the life to which the animal is urged by his Will. The Will is found associated in man with an understanding; but is not subservient to that understanding. On the contrary, the understanding or intellect is subservient. The Will is the moving power; the understanding is the instrument.

This one Will in nature and in ourselves serves to explain a great part of all the movements of human society. Hence arise the collisions of interest that excite envy, strife, and hatred between individuals or classes. Society differs from an unsocial state of life in the forms imposed by intelligence on egoistic Will, but not in any radical change made in that Will. Thus etiquette is the convenience of egoism, and law is a fixing of boundaries within which egoism may conveniently pursue its objects. The world around us, including what is called the social or civilized world, may seem fair, when it is viewed only as a stage, and without any reference to the tragedy that is acted upon it. But, viewed in its reality, it is an arena for gladiators, or an amphitheater where all who would be at peace have to defend themselves. As Voltaire says, it is with sword in hand that we must live and die. The man who expects to find peace and safety here is like the traveler told of in one of Gracian’s stories, who, entering a district where he hoped to meet his fellow-men, found it peopled only by wolves and bears, while men had escaped to caves in a neighboring forest. The same egoistic Will that manifests itself dimly in the lowest stages of life, and becomes more and more clearly pronounced as we ascend to creatures of higher organization, attains its highest energy in man, and is here modified, but not essentially changed, by a superior intelligence. The insect world is full of slaughter; the sea hides from us frightful scenes of cruel rapacity; the tyrannical and destructive instinct marks the so-called king of birds, and rages in the feline tribes. In human society, some mitigation of this strife takes place as the result of experience and culture. By the use of the understanding, the Will makes laws for itself, so that the natural bellum omnium contra omnes is modified, and leaves to the few victors some opportunities of enjoying the results of their victory. Law is a means of reducing the evils of social strife to their most convenient form, and politics must be regarded in the same way. The strength of all law and government lies in our dread of the anarchic Will, that lies couched behind the barriers of society and is ready to spring forth when they are broken down.