No More Learning

7889 (#81) ############################################

ICELANDIC LITERATURE
7889
Whereabout's the spot
Known as Herward's cairn ?
SHEPHERD
Don't about it speer,
If thou’rt truly wise.
Thou, the viking's friend,
In great peril art.
Let us speed away,
Haste with might and main:
All abroad are horrors
For the sons of men.
HERWARD
Here a brooch I'll give you
If you'll tell me true.
Vain to try to hinder
Thus the viking's friend.
No! the brightest treasure,
All the rings on earth,
Would not let or hinder
Me from my intent.
SHEPHERD
Foolish is, methinks,
He who hither fares,
All alone and friendless
In the murky night.
Flames are flickering,
Cairns are opening,
Burning earth and fen;
Let us hurry on.
HERWARD
I am not afeard
At such snorting sounds,
E'en though all the island
Bursts out in a blaze.
Do not let us two
By the champions dead
Thus be made to shiver;
Let us have discourse!
XIV-494


## p. 7890 (#82) ############################################

7890
ICELANDIC LITERATURE
- Then the herdsman filed
To the forest near,
Frightened by the speech
Of this manly maid.
Of undaunted mettle
Fashioned, Hervor's breast
Swelled within her fiercely
At the shepherd's fright.
She now sees the cairns all alight and the howe-dwellers standing
outside, but is not afraid; passes through the me as if it were
only reek, till she gets to the Berserker's howe. Then she speaks :-
HERWARD
Wake thee, Angantyr;
Hervor waketh thee.
I'm the only daughter
Of Tofa and of thee:
Give me from the howe
That sword whetted sharp,
Which for Swarfurlam
Was forged by the dwarves.
Hervard and Hjorvard,
Hran and Angantyr!
I wake you, ye buried
Under the forest roots,
With your helm and mail-sark,
With your whetted sword,
With your polished shields,
And your bloody darts.
1
Ye are turned indeed,
Arngrim's sons so bold,
Such redoubted champions,
To poor bits of mold,
If of Eyfur's sons,
Not one dares with me
To come and hold discourse
Here in Munarvoe.
1
Hervard and Hjorvard,
Hran and Angantyr!
May it be to all
Of you within your hearts


## p. 7891 (#83) ############################################

ICELANDIC LITERATURE
7891
As if you were in ant-hills,
With torments dire bested,
Unless to me the sword
Ye give that Dvalin forged.
It not beseemeth Draugies
Such weapons choice to hide.
ANGANTYR
Hervor, my daughter, why
Dost thou cry out so loud ?
Thou’rt hastening to destruction,
Past all redemption, maid!
'Tis mad you are become,
Bereft of sober sense;
You must be wandering, surely,
To wake up men long dead.
HERWARD
One thing tell me true,
So may Odin shield thee:
In thy ancient cairn,
Tell me, hast thou there
The sword Tyrfing hight?
Oh, you're very slow
A small boon to grant
To your single heir.
[The cairn opens, and it seems all ablaze. )
ANGANTYR
Hell gates have sunk down,
Opened is the cairn;
See, the island's shore
Is all bathed in flame;
All abroad are sights
Fearful to behold.
Haste thee, while there's time,
Maiden, to thy ships.
HERWARD
Were you burning bright,
Like bale-fire at night,
I'd not fear a jot;
Your fierce burning flame


## p. 7892 (#84) ############################################

7892
ICELANDIC LITERATURE
Quakes not maiden's heart:
'Tis of sterner stuff,
Gibbering ghosts though she
In the doorway see.
ANGANTYR
1
į
Listen, Hervor mine!
I'll a tale unfold;
Listen, daughter wise!
I'll thy fate foretell.
Trow my words or not,
Tyrfing's fate is this:
'Twill to all thy kin
Naught but mishap bring.
HERWARD
I will sure bewitch
All these champions slain;
Ye shall fated be
Ever and aye to lie
With the Draugies dead,
Rotting in your graves.
Give me, Angantyr,
Out your cairn straightway
Sword to harness dangerous,
Young Hjalmar's bane.
|
ANGANTYR
Maiden, I aver you're
Not of human mold,
Roaming 'mong the cairns
In the dead of night,
With engraved spear,
With a sword beside,
With helmet and with hauberk
My hell-door before.
1
1
1
HERWARD
:
Meseemed I altogether
Was framed in human mold
'Fore I visit paid
To your halls of death.
Hand me from the cairn


## p. 7893 (#85) ############################################

ICELANDIC LITERATURE
7893
Straight the Byrnie's foe,
Smithied by the dwarves;
To hide it won't avail.
ANGANTYR
I have 'neath my shoulder
Young Hjalmar's bane;
It is all enwrapped
In a sheet of flame.
On the earth I know not
Any maid so bold
That shall dare the sword
By the hand to take.
HERWARD
Gladly I will take it,
Gladly keep it too,
That sharp-edged sword,
If I have it may.
I've no fear at all
Of the burning flame;
Straight abates the fire
When thereon I gaze.
ANGANTYR
Foolish art thou, Hervor,
Though so stout of heart,
If with open eyes
In the fire you dart.
Rather will I hand thee
Out the cairn the sword.
Maiden young, I will not
Thy request refuse.
[The sword is cast out of the cairn. )
HERWARD
Well and bravely done,
Say I, viking's son!
Thou hast me the sword
Handed out the tomb.
Better far, methinks,
King, this precious boon,


## p. 7894 (#86) ############################################

7894
ICELANDIC LITERATURE
Than the whole of Norway
Were I to possess.
ANGANTYR
Ah! you do not know,
All too rash of speech,
Maiden void of counsel,
What is good or ill.
This sword Tyrfing will —
If you me can trow-
Will thy race hereafter
Utterly destroy.
HERWARD
Off to my sea-horses,
Off, off, and away!
Now the prince's daughter
Is all blithe of mood.
Little do I fear,
Sire of lordly strain,
What my race hereafter
Haply shall befall.
ANGANTYR
Long thou shalt possess it,
And enjoy it long;
Only keep it hidden,
Young Hjalmar's bane.
Touch not e'en its edges,
They are poisoned both;
Naught exists more baneful
Than this sword to man.
HERWARD
Dwellers in the cairns!
Dwell unscathed on.
I'm longing to be gone,
Fast I haste away.
I myself, methought,
Hung 'twixt life and death
When the roaring flame
Girt me all around.


## p. 7895 (#87) ############################################

ICELANDIC LITERATURE
7895
(
I may refer readers who would like to go more thoroughly into
the subject of Icelandic literature to study the volumes of Dr. Gud-
brand Vigfusson and Mr. York Powell, — in particular the Corpus
Poeticum Boreale; or, the Poetry of the Old Northern Tongue from
the Earliest Times to the Thirteenth Century,' edited, classified, and
translated, with Introduction, Excursuses, and Notes. The first of
these two volumes deals with the Eddic poems and with the early
Western and early historic epics, with interesting excursuses on the
beliefs and worships of the ancient Northmen, and on the Northern
and old Teutonic metres. The second volume is less interesting per-
haps to the ordinary reader, but should certainly also be read; and
also its interesting excursus on the figures and metres of the old
Northern poetry, with some reference to the ancient life, thought, and
belief as embodied therein. Again, the student should turn to Vig-
fusson's three or four volumes of Icelandic sagas, to E. Mogk's (Chap-
ters on Northern Literature, and to Hermann Paul's "Grundriss der
Germanischen Philologie. Again, there is one invaluable work of its
kind, -- Dr. Vigfusson's rendering of the Sturlunga Saga,' including
the Islendiga Saga' (untranslated) and other works; though it is for
the Prolegomena, Appendices, etc. , that this recommendation is given
to the non-Icelandic student. The general reader should consult Dr.
Metcalfe's (The Scandinavian and the Englishman,' with its delight-
ful chapters on Icelandic history and literature. Among the many
important and interesting articles in periodicals, I may specify in
particular Mr. York Powell's account of recent research on Teutonic
Mythology in the journal Folk Lore, Mr. J. H. Wisley's paper on
Saga Literature in Poet Lore, Mr. W. A. Craigie's important article
in Folk Lore on the oldest Icelandic folk-lore (with translations of
old sagas, etc. ), and Mr. York Powell's interesting account in Folk
Lore of (Saga Growth. '
Waaien Sharya


## p. 7896 (#88) ############################################

7896
KARL LEBRECHT IMMERMANN
(1796-1840)
(
>
OETHE, as early as 1823, speaking of Immermann, praised his
talents highly. “We shall see,” he said, “how he develops:
if he be willing to take the trouble to purify his taste and
to follow as regards form those models which are recognized as the
best. His originality has its value, but all too easily it may lead him
astray. ”
When Goethe passed this cautious judgment, Immermann was in
his twenty-seventh year; he had published only a few youthful dra-
mas and a volume of poems, which had
enrolled him among the Romanticists; many
years of ideal striving still lay before him
ere his versatile talents found their proper
sphere. He spent his life in writing dramas,
now for the most part forgotten; and at last
won his permanent place in literature by
two novels: Die Epigonen' (The Epigoni).
and the more widely known Münchhausen. '
The year following the publication of the
latter, he died.
Immermann was born at Magdeburg on
April 24th, 1796. He took up the study of
IMMERMANN law at the University of Halle; but when
all Germany rose in the wars for freedom
he abandoned his books and enlisted in the army. Illness prevented
him at first from taking an active part in the campaign; but after
the return of Napoleon from Elba, Immermann fought at the battles
of Ligny and Waterloo, and under the command of Blücher entered
Paris with the allied troops. He left the army with an officer's
rank, and for the next two years diligently pursued his law studies
at Halle. In 1817 he entered the service of the Prussian State. It
was during these two years that he attended the theatrical perform-
ances of the Weimar troupe, and received those impressions which
shaped his career as dramatist and dramaturgist. In his profession
he distinguished himself, and in a few years became a judge on the
bench of the criminal court at Magdeburg. In 1826 he was trans-
ferred to Düsseldorf, where he brought a literary element into the
circle of eminent artists already gathered there. Here for the first



## p. 7897 (#89) ############################################

KARL LEBRECHT IMMERMANN
7897
(
(
time his aspirations as a dramatist began to conflict with his profes-
sional duties. He obtained a release for one year, with permission to
undertake the direction of the City Theatre. In spite of the enthusi-
asm with which he devoted himself to this task, and the excellent
artistic results he secured, the enterprise failed through lack of pub-
lic support; but as a theatre director he had proven himself a worthy
follower in the footsteps of Goethe.
Goethe's influence is frequently observable in Immermann's works.
His Merlin,' which he has himself called "a tragedy of negation,”
has strong traces of the Faustspirit; but it is more purely alle-
gorical, treads the earth less firmly, and as Kuno Francke says, its
keynote is one of “discord and destruction, whereas that of Faust)
is one of hope and endeavor. ” In Immermann's first romance, “The
Epigoni, published in 1835, we have an echo of Goethe's Wilhelm
Meister. ) It portrays certain aspects of the age, with its vices and
its aspirations. It is designed to show the disastrous effects of mod-
ern civilization, with its changes in the methods of industrial produc-
tion. The author declares that with storm-like rapidity the present
age is moving on towards a dry mechanism. ” He calls the time
an age of the afterborn” (hence the title), and adds: “Of misfortune
there has been enough at all times. The curse of the present gen-
eration is to be miserable without any particular misfortune. ” There
is a pessimistic coloring in his portrait of the time, and he never
found the solution as Goethe did.
Of Immermann's numerous dramas, the most important after (Mer-
lin' is Das Trauerspiel in Tyrol' (The Tragedy in the Tyrol), pub-
lished in 1828. It is the story of the heroic patriot Andreas Hofer.
But the work with which in the public mind Immermann's name is
most intimately associated is his second and last romance, Münch-
hausen, eine Geschichte in Arabesken? (Münchhausen, a Story in
Arabesques), published in 1839. It consists of two loosely connected
stories, of which the love idyl of peasant life in Westphalia with its
survivals of patriarchal traditions - sometimes separately published
with the title of “The Oberhof — is full of genuine poetic feeling
and fineness of character-drawing. Here, as in “The Epigoni,' there
are master strokes of satire, and a wealth of grotesque humor which
sometimes suggests the incredible tales of the hero's grandfather.
This book is the author's ripest work.
Immermann married in 1839 the daughter of Chancellor Niemeyer,
and it was under the inspiration of this new happiness that he under-
took to give a form of his own to the love epic of Tristan and
Isolde. At the same time he began writing his memorabilia. Both
works remained unfinished. Immermann died on August 25th, 1840,
at Düsseldorf. He was not a seer, and so fell short of being a great
(


## p. 7898 (#90) ############################################

7898
KARL LEBRECHT IMMERMANN
poet. The features of the age were plain to him, and he depicted
them with the pen of a keen satirist; but he could not see what lay
behind, nor point out the ailment which caused them to be distorted.
He stood in opposition to his time; he sought his themes in remote
realms. Merlin is not a modern like Faust; and Immermann was
not, like Goethe, able to point the way humanity should go. But
although the remote mediaval traditions which still obtain at the
Oberhof lie far from the pathway of modern progress, there are a
strange beauty and pathos in this delightful Westphalian idyl which
render it a classic of the world's literature.
A WEDDING AND A BETROTHAL
From (Oberhof)
D
URING the singing the deacon ascended the pulpit, and when
he happened to let his eye sweep over the congregation
he had an unexpected sight. A fine gentleman from the
court was standing among the peasants, whose attention he ab-
sorbed; they were continually looking up from their hymn-books
and casting side glances at his decorations. The nobleman
wanted to look over the hymn-book with some one or other of
the peasants, that he might join in the singing; but as every one
stepped aside respectfully as soon as the gentleman approached,
he did not succeed, and merely caused an almost general disturb-
ance. For no sooner did he sit down on a bench than all the
peasants who were already seated slid over into the farthest cor-
ner, and fled the bench entirely when the noble gentleman slid
after them. This sliding and sliding was continued to the third
and even fourth bench; so that the gentleman from court, who
had come to the village service with the best intentions, finally
had to give up the hope of taking any part in it. He had busi-
ness in the neighborhood, and would not neglect the opportunity
of letting his graciousness win the hearts of these country people
for the throne to which he stood so near. As soon as he heard
of the peasant wedding, he therefore made up his mind to lend
it his amiable presence from beginning to end.
To the deacon the sight of the nobleman, whom he knew to
be from the brilliant circles of the capital, was not a weicome
He knew to what strange customs the sermon had to con-
form, and he dreaded the nobleman's ridicule. His thoughts lost
one.


## p. 7899 (#91) ############################################

KARL LEBRECHT IMMERMANN
7899
thereby their natural clearness, his expressions became somewhat
veiled, and the more he said the further he got away from the
point. His preoccupation increased when he noticed that the
nobleman sent him understanding glances, and nodded his head
approvingly in some places, generally where the speaker was the
least satisfied with himself. He therefore cut short the separate
parts of the address and hastened to get to the ceremony.
The bridal couple knelt down, and the fateful questions were
put to them. But then something happened which threw the
noble stranger into the most abject fear. To the right and to the
left of him, in front and behind him, he saw men and women,
girls and boys, drawing out stout ropes twisted of sackcloth. All
had risen and were whispering to each other, and looking about,
so it seemed to him, with wild malicious eyes. As it was impos-
sible for him to guess the meaning of this preparation, he lost
all self-control; and as the lashes were undoubtedly intended for
some one who was to be beaten, the thought came to him that
he would be the object of this general abuse. He remembered
how shyly everybody had got out of his way, and he considered
how rough was the character of the country people, and that the
peasants, ignorant of his gracious frame of mind, had decided to
get rid of the stranger who was in their way. All this passed
through his mind with lightning quickness, and he did not know
how to save his dignity and his body from the awful attack.
While he was still helplessly trying to make up his mind, the
deacon finished the ceremony, and immediately the wildest tumult
ensued. All the men and women, carrying rope lashes, rushed
forward swinging their weapons, screaming in a perfect frenzy;
the courtly gentleman scaled several benches with three strides
and reached the pulpit, which he at once ascended, and from this
elevated position he called down to the frenzied crowd below:
“I advise you not to attack me! I have the kindest and most
gracious feelings towards you; but every insult shown me, the
King will requite as if it had been shown to himself. ”
But the peasants, carried away with their purpose, did not
listen to this speech. They ran toward the altar, and on the
way one and another got a chance beating before they reached
the object for whom it was intended. This was the bridegroom.
Raising his hands above his head, he did his best to break a way
through the crowd, which let their lashes dance about his head
and shoulders, and for that matter anywhere where there was


## p. 7900 (#92) ############################################

7900
KARL LEBRECHT IMMERMANN
)
room to hit. Forcing a way for himself, he ran toward the church
door; but before he reached it he had received at least a hundred
strokes, and thus beaten black and blue he left the sanctuary on
his wedding day. Everybody pursued him; the bride's father and
the bride followed; the sexten immediately shut the door when
the last one had departed, and went into the vestry, from which
there was a special exit. The church had been emptied in a few
seconds.
But the nobleman was still standing in the pulpit, and the
deacon was standing at the altar bowing to the noble gentleman
with a friendly smile. When the former on his Ararat had seen
that the beating was not intended for him, he had let his arms
sink reassured; and now that everything had become still, he
asked the deacon: “But tell me for heaven's sake, sir, what meant
this furious scene, and what had the poor man done to his assail-
ants ? »
“Nothing, your Excellency,” answered the deacon, who in spite
of the holiness of the place could scarcely keep from laughing
at the sight of the little courtier in the pulpit. “This beating of
the bridegroom after the ceremony is a very old custom, which
the people will not abandon. The meaning, they say, is that the
bridegroom shall feel how a beating hurts, that he may not abuse
his wife. ”
“Well, well, these are indeed strange customs! murmured
his Excellency, as he descended from the pulpit. The deacon re-
ceived him most courteously below, and was honored with three
kisses on his flat cheek. Then the clergyman led his noble
acquaintance into the vestry, that he might let him out into
the open air that way. The still intimidated man said he would
have to consider whether he could take part in the rest of the fes-
tivities. And on the way to the vestry the clergyman expressed
his deep regret that he had not known earlier of his Excellen-
cy's intentions, as he would then have been able to tell him of
the beating custom, and thus have saved him the terror and
alarm.
When they had both gone, the church was still and silent. It
was a pretty little chapel, clean and not too brilliantly colored: a
rich protector had done a great deal for it. The ceiling was
painted blue, with golden stars; on the pulpit was ingenious
wood carving; and among the tombstones of the old clergymen
which covered the floor, there were even three or four made of
»


## p. 7901 (#93) ############################################

KARL LEBRECHT IMMERMANN
7901
brass. The benches were kept clean and neat. A beautiful
cloth covered the altar, above which rose a set of twisted col-
umns painted to look like marble.
The light fell bright into the little church, the trees rustled
outside, and once in a while a little draught of air making its
way through a broken pane stirred the white scarf of the angel
over the baptismal font, or the tinsel of the crowns which had
been taken from the coffins of young girls, and which were now
decorating the columns.
Bride and bridegroom were gone, the bridal procession was
gone, and yet the little church was not entirely forsaken. Two
young people were still there, and did not know of each other's
presence; and it had happened in this way: The hunter had left
the bridal couple when they entered the church, and had gone
quietly up-stairs. There he sat down on a footstool unseen by
the others, with his back to them and to the altar, alone with
himself. He buried his face in his hands, but he could not
stand this long; his face, forehead, and cheeks burned too hotly.
The deep serious tones of the church hymn fell like a cooling
dew upon his passion, and he thanked God that at last the high-
est happiness had been vouchsafed him; and with the pious
words which came up to him from below he mixed his worldly
lines:-
« Whether laughing or in earnest,
By a sweet right thou art mine. »
A little child who had slipped up out of curiosity he took
softly by the hand and patted. Then he thought of giving the
child money, and did not do it, but took the little one in his
arms and kissed its forehead. And when the child, frightened by
his passionate caress, wanted to go down-stairs, he led it down
gently that it should not fall. Then he returned to his seat, and
heard nothing of the speech and the noise that followed; but
was lost in a deep blissful dream, in which he saw his mother
and his castle on the green mountain, and in the castle he saw
another too.
Lisbeth had followed the bride, feeling awkward and shy in
her strange costume. "Oh,” she thought, "at the very time
when he says of me that I am always so natural, I must go
about in borrowed clothes ! » She longed for her own. She
heard the peasants and the townspeople whisper her name behind
(


## p.
7902 (#94) ############################################

7902
KARL LEBRECHT IMMERMANN
ex-
her; the nobleman who met the procession at the church door
looked long and critically at her through his lorgnette. She had
to stand all this now, when her beauty had just been praised in
song, when her heart was overflowing with joy and happiness.
She entered the church half dazed, and made up her mind to
stay behind when the procession went out, that she might not
again be the object of the talking and the joking of which she
had been conscious for the last quarter of an hour. She too
heard but little of the address, although she tried to follow the
words of her honored friend. And when the rings were
changed, the indifferent faces of the bride and bridegroom gave
her a peculiar feeling of mixed sadness, envy, and vexation that
so heavenly a moment should pass over unfeeling souls.
Then came the tumult, and she instinctively fled behind the
altar. When all was still again she took a deep breath, smoothed
out her apron, pushed back a curl which had fallen over her
forehead, and took new heart. She would try to get back to the
Oberhof by a side path, and get rid of these tiresome clothes.
She walked with short steps and lowered eyes through a side
aisle to the door,
The hunter, at last awakened from his dreams, came down
the stairs. He too wished to get out of the church, although he
did not know whither he should then go. His heart beat high
when he saw Lisbeth; she raised her eyes and stood still, shy
and demure. Then silently, without looking at each other, they
went toward the door and he laid his hand on the latch to
“It is locked! ” he cried in a tone of delight, as if the
greatest happiness had come to him. “We are locked into the
church!
«Locked in ? ” she asked, full of sweet alarm. —“Why does
that frighten you: where can one be safer than in church ? ” he
said blissfully. He laid his arm around her waist; with the other
hand he took her hand, and so he led her to a seat, made her
sit down, and seated himself beside her. She looked down into
her lap, and let the ribbons of the many-colored bodice she wore
glide through her fingers. He had leaned his head on the prayer-
book rest; he looked at her askance, and touched the cap she
wore as if to try the material. He heard her heart beat and saw
her neck blush. “Yes, isn't it a hideous costume ? ” she asked,
hardly audibly after a long pause. “Oh! ” he cried, and tore his
vest open, “I did not look at the costume! ”
((
open it.


## p. 7903 (#95) ############################################

KARL LEBRECHT IMMERMANN
7903
He took both her hands, pressed them violently to his breast,
and drew her up from the bench.
“I cannot endure to sit so still! Let us look about the church,”
he cried. “There is not much worth seeing, I'm afraid,” she
answered trembling.
He walked with her over to the font, in which were still
some drops of the holy water; before the wedding there had
been a baptism in the church. He made her bend over it with
him, and look at the water in the bottom of the font. Then he
dipped his finger in and touched first her forehead, then his
own.
« For Heaven's sake, what are you doing! ” she exclaimed anx-
iously, quickly wiping off what she considered a blasphemous
touch. « 'Tis a second baptism I am giving,” he said with a won-
derful smile. « This water blesses the birth into life, and then
life goes on and on — for a long, long while; that is what is called
life and is no life — and then true life suddenly comes, and one
ought then to be baptized anew. ” She felt frightened in his
presence, and said falteringly, Come, we must find a way out
through the vestry. ” “No,” he cried, we will first look at the
crown of the dead: between birth and death our life finds its
light and beauty. ” He led her to the stateliest crown hanging on
the opposite column, and on the way he murmured with a dazed
look, as if intoxicated by his happiness, a sentence from Gray
which had no connection with his other thoughts, and which the
surroundings only suggested:-
((
«Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. »
Did he think of the girl from whose coffin the glittering crown
was taken ? I know not. Tinsel and shining rings were hanging
down in thin silk ribbons. He tore off two rings and whispered,
“ You are only poor rings, but I will raise you and consecrate you
to costly gold. ” He put one on Lisbeth's hand before she could
prevent him, and the other on his own. And he looked angry,
his lips curled as if in exalted scorn; he laid his clutched hand
on the back of her head as if he meant to revenge himself upon
her for having captured his soul. In this young heart, love made
as deep marks and furrows as a forest stream rushing down a
mountain.


## p. 7904 (#96) ############################################

7904
KARL LEBRECHT IMMERMANN
“Oswald ! ” she cried, and stepped back from him. It was the
first time she had called him by his first name. “We can do that
as well as the stupid peasants,” he said, "and if no other rings
are at hand, then we will take those that decorated the coffins,
for life is stronger than death. ” “Now I am going,” she whis-
pered, tottering. Her breath came quickly, so that her bodice
rose and fell.
But his strong arms had already enfolded her, and lifted her
and carried her up before the altar. There he put her down;
she lay half unconscious in his arms, and he murmured, sobbing
with the suffering and passion of his love: "Lisbeth! love! my
only one! Cruel one! You little thief and robber! Forgive me!
Will you be mine? mine for always ? ”
She did not answer. Her heart beat against his; she clung
close to him as if now they were but one. Her tears fell upon
his breast. Then she lifted her head, and their lips met. United
in this kiss, they stood a long, long time.
Then he pulled her gently down upon her knees beside
him, and both of them lifted their hands to the altar in prayer.
But they could only repeat, “Father, dear Father in Heaven;" and
they did not tire of repeating this in voices trembling with joy.
They said it as confidently as if the Father they were addressing
were holding out his hand to them.
Finally they ceased their praying, and laid their faces silently
against the altar cloth. Each had put an arm around the neck
of the other; their cheeks glowed side by side, and their fingers
played gently with each other's locks.
Thus they both knelt for a long while silently in the sanctu-
ary. Suddenly they felt some one touch their heads; they looked
up. The deacon was standing before them with radiant face, and
held his hand on their heads in blessing. He had happened
to step into the church from the vestry, and with great emotion
had witnessed the betrothal which had taken place here after the
wedding and in the very sight of God. He too was silent, but
his eyes spoke. He drew the young man and the girl to his
breast, and held his favorites close.
Then he led the couple into the vestry to let them out that
way. And thus all three went out of the little, bright, and quiet
.
village church.
»
1
1
Translated for (A Library of the World's Best Literature) by Olga Flinch.


## p. 7905 (#97) ############################################

7905
INDIAN LITERATURE
BY EDWARD W. HOPKINS
he literature of India resembles all other literature of remote
antiquity, in that its beginnings, both in respect of age and
authorship, are hidden. But though the individual authors
of the Vedic Hymns, the earliest form of Indian literature, will never
be known, yet the date to which may be referred this first poetic
work of the Indo-Europeans can be established approximately, by
means of internal evidence, as from 1500 to 1000 B. C. Some schol-
ars incline to think that the Hymns were composed a few centuries
before this; some have even imagined that 3000 B. C. is not too early
a date to give to this venerable Collection,' which, however, as its
name and nature imply, can be assigned to no one specific time, but
is the gleaning of centuries. Neither the philological data nor the
changes in style render probable so great an antiquity as 3000 B. C.
The consensus of opinion of competent scholars fails to uphold this
extreme view, and inclines rather to believe that the Vedic Hymns
were composed between 1500 and 1000 B. C.
We may think, then, of the first Indian literature as originating
about this time in the northwest of India; the poets of the Hymns
living for the most part on either side of the river Indus, whence
they and their descendants immigrated slowly into the Punjab. Later
still, following the course of the Ganges, they planted one settlement
after another along the banks of the Holy River, as they extended
themselves to the southeast by means of successive victories over the
wild tribes of hostile natives. It is important to bear in mind from
the outset this southern trend of immigration, for it is reflected in the
literature of the Aryan invaders, whose first songs sing the glory of
Aryan gods and of the Aryan “white » race, as opposed to the black”
race of natives and their conquered deities. The poets that give us
the first Indian literature represent a people akin to Greek, Roman,
and Teuton; and like their cousins in the West, they are intensely
conscious of their Aryan (that is, “noble”) blood, and profoundly con-
temptuous of every other race. This factor must also be remembered;
for it explains some very interesting features in the later literature,
when Aryan blood began to be mixed with native blood and the
consciousness of racial superiority became vaguer.
XIV-495


## p. 7906 (#98) ############################################

7906
INDIAN LITERATURE
The extension of the warlike Aryans from the extreme northwest
to about the vicinity of the modern Benares in the southeast is con-
terminous with the First Period of Indian literature. This period
of literature – in contradistinction to the Sectarian (Buddhistic, etc. )
literature on the one hand, and to Sanskrit literature in the strict
sense of the term on the other — comprises the so-called Veda' or
Vedic literature, which consists in turn of four fairly well demar-
cated sub-periods: first, the creative period of the Vedic Hymns;
second, the ritual period of the prose Brāhmanas, which elucidate
the Hymns; third, that of the Upanishads or philosophical writings,
in both prose and poetry; and fourth, that of the Sūtras or manuals,
which explain religious rites, and lead up to some branches of San-
skrit literature through the extension of the Sūtras' subject-matter to
legal themes and to religious meditative poetry.
As might be expected from a view of the contents, the literary
products of these sub-periods are of very unequal value. While the
Hymns are of extraordinary interest, the Brāhmanas, composed by
later generations, when the intellectual activity of the people was
concerned not with productive but with explanatory work, are dull,
inane, and childishly superstitious. But at the very end of this sub-
period comes a revolt, and then are composed the Upanishads; com-
positions of great ability, and of lasting value for every student of
religion and of literature. The Sūtra period, again, is an intermedi-
ate one and of only passing interest. As said above, these four sub-
periods constitute the Vedic period. All that and only that which is
composed in this whole period is Vedic. Every other form of Indian
literature is either (1) Sanskrit; or (2) dialectic, as for instance Pāli
literature, — Pāli being the dialect, neither Vedic nor Sanskrit, in which
the most important Buddhistic works are composed.
It is essential to understand exactly what «Vedic” and “Sanskrit
really mean, for in the Occident the latter is often used as if it were
synonymous with Indian, whereas it actually connotes only the later
Indian literature; and in the West, Vedic is frequently used to
indicate the Vedic Hymns alone, whereas 'Veda' properly denotes
Hymns, Brāhmanas, Upanishads, and Sūtras,- in short, all that liter-
ature which orthodox Hindus esteem peculiarly holy. In distinction
from the sacred Vedic works, Sanskrit works — that is, works com-
posed in the refined Sanskrit language - are compositions of men
who are indeed regarded as sages, but whose works are not thought
to be inspired. The general distinction, then, between Vedic and
Sanskrit works is that of holy writ and profane literature; though
it may be said at once that no literary compositions in India were
committed to writing until long after Buddha's time, the fifth cen-
tury B. C.
-
-


## p. 7907 (#99) ############################################

INDIAN LITERATURE
7907
It is true, as has recently been shown, that the Hindus were ac-
quainted with the art of making letters as early as the seventh cen-
tury, when the Vedic period was closing. But letters at first were
used only for cut inscriptions; they were not employed for written
compositions. The chiseled rock was known in India ages before the
palm leaf was scratched and lettered. It is almost inconceivable, yet
it is a fact, that all of the immense literature prior to the time of
Buddha, and even for some time after his age, was committed to mem-
ory by specialists, as different priests devoted their lives to learning
and to handing on different branches of the traditional literature.
How immense this literature was, and how great was the task to learn
by heart even a single Collection of Hymns or a single Brāhmana,
will become obvious as the literature is reviewed in detail. At present
it is sufficient to call particular attention to the fact that memorizing
the sacred works of antiquity was an important factor not only in
determining the kind of literature that arose at different periods, but
also in conditioning the genius of the people itself. For long after
writing was known, it was still considered wrong to vulgarize the
sacred works by committing them to visible form; and memorizing
them is still the way in which they are taught to young scholars.
The result has always been and still is that memory is the best
cultivated part of the Hindu scholar's mind, and is most esteemed by
him. The effect of this memorizing upon the literature is apparent
in many ways. Logical acumen yields to traditional wisdom; discus-
sion of historical matters is prevented; the one who best reflects the
opinion of the ancients is esteemed as a greater sage than he who
thinks for himself.
From these general considerations we may now turn to the de-
tailed study of the great periods of Indian literature: the Vedic, the
Sectarian, and the Sanskrit proper. To these should be added a
period which can be described briefly as Modern; that is to say, the
period covered by the time since the sixteenth century, during which
time Indian thought has been to a marked degree under foreign
influence. The literature of this last period is still Sanskrit to some
extent, but many of the more important works are composed in dia-
lect. For greater clearness of survey, a table of the periods with
their subdivisions is here given. That these periods and sub-periods
are not absolutely exclusive of those that precede and follow, is a
matter of course. Works imitative of those of the older periods
sometimes continued to be composed long after the time when arose
the works on which they were modeled. But in general the suc-
cessive stages of the literature are fairly well represented by the
following scheme, which will serve as a guiding thread in tracing
the development of the whole literature:


## p. 7908 (#100) ###########################################

7908
INDIAN LITERATURE
First Period: Vedic Literature (a) The Hymns; (b) Brāhmanas and
Upanishads; (c) Sūtras. Second Period: Sectarian literature of
Buddhism and other sects. Third Period: Sanskrit literature -
(a) Epics and Purānas; (b) fables and the drama; (c) lyric po-
etry. Fourth Period: Modern Sanskrit and dialectic literature.
FIRST PERIOD: Vedic Literature — (a) The Hymns. Vedic - or as
it is sometimes and more correctly spelled, Vaidic — is an adjective
originally applied to the language and literature of the Veda; that is,
the “knowledge” or “wisdom” of the ancients, as it is handed down
first in the sacred Hymns, then in the works (Brāhmanas) which elu-
cidate the Hymns, and in the writings (Upanishads) which draw philo-
sophical theories from them, and finally in the manuals (Sūtras) which
condense into aphoristic form the accumulated teaching of older gen-
erations. The Sūkta (literally bons mots) or Hymns, then, are the his-
torical and logical starting-point of the whole Indian literature. They
have been preserved in four different Collections or Sanhitās, known
respectively as the Collection of Verses,' Rig-Veda Sanhitā; the
(Song-Collection,' Sāma-Veda Sanhitā; the Collection of Formulæ,'
Yajur Veda Sanhitā; and finally the Collection of (the sage) Athar-
van,' Atharva-Veda Sanhitā. The first of these is the oldest and most
esteemed; the last is a late Collection, --so late in fact that it was
not recognized as an authoritative Collection till long after the other
three, which three together are often referred to in Indian literature
as the Triple Veda, with tacit exclusion of the claim of the adher-
ents of the Atharva-l'eda to recognition. Each of these Collections
of Hymns has its own supplements,- viz. , its own elucidatory Brāh-
manas, its own philosophical Upanishads, and its own manuals, Sūtras.
To the Hindu, the Collection of Hymns and these supplements to-
gether constitute any one Veda'; though in the Occident, as said
above, we are accustomed to use the word Veda, as for instance
Rig-Veda, to designate not the whole complex but the hymns alone
of any one Veda, employing for the remaining parts of the complex
the specific terms Brāhmana and Sūtra. The Vedic Collections
demand the first place in a review of Vedic literature. The supple-
mentary parts, Brāhmanas and Sūtras, belong, both in the case of
the Rig-Veda and in the case of the other Vedas, to a later period.
Of these Collections, that of the Rig-Veda, as the oldest and the
best,” as the Hindus say, is by far the most important. Not only so,
but the other Collections are in great measure only recastings of the
earlier Rig Veda Hymns. We shall review them severally in the order
given above.
The Rig Veda Collection consists of somewhat more than a thou-
sand hymns, composed in various metres and by various poets and
»


## p. 7909 (#101) ###########################################

INDIAN LITERATURE
7909
families of poets; for the hymns themselves show by the utterance
of their authors that several generations have wrought them,- or
«seen” them, as is the Hindu expression to designate a revealed or
inspired composition. As to the inspiration and the history of belief
in it, there are many indications that the poets often laid no claim
to special Divine guidance in the manufacture of their songs. They
speak of fashioning” them as a carpenter fashions a
“
car,) of
«toiling » over them; or say simply, « This song I have made like a
workman working artistically. ” Other poets, however, do claim that
they are inspired by the god they worship; and on this occasional
claim, together with the naturally increasing venerableness of ancient
works, rests the later hypothesis of the revealed religion contained in
the old hymns.
The Rig-Veda Hymns are collected from older and more primi-
tive family Collections into one great whole, which however, in its
formal divisions, still reflects the composite family origin. Of the
ten books or Circles) Mandalas, as they are called — of the Rig-
Veda Collection, seven are referred to distinct priestly families; and
the first book of the general Collection bears no one family name
simply because it is composed of little groups of hymns, groups too
small to stand alone as special books. But with few exceptions,
each of the groups, as in the case of the large books, is referred by
tradition to a special priestly poet and his descendants. Occasionally
one family Collection will contain hymns attributed to a member of
an entirely different family, which has its own Circle of hymns; but ,
in general the family lines are quite closely drawn. Again, some
of the family Circles bear internal evidence of being much later
than others, and in each Circle some hymns may easily be picked
out as much later than others. It is therefore important to observe
that with the exception of the eighth Circle (family Collection), all
the family Circles are arranged in the order of their length. For
instance, the Circle or Collection of the Vicvāmitra family, which
stands third in the whole Collection, is just a little longer than the
Circle of the Gautama family, which stands second; and so on. From
the second to the eighth book, inclusive, the hymns are thus ar-
ranged by families.
The arrangement according to the length of the
books continues further, for the tenth or last book is the longest,
and the ninth is longer than the preceding in its first form (many
obviously late hymns have increased disproportionately the size of
the eighth book); but in these last two books the family character
The tenth book is a medley from different families, and is
plainly the latest in time as well as the last in order. The ninth
book is quite peculiar in that it is neither referred to any one fam-
ily, nor are its hymns addressed, as is the case in all other books,
ceases.


## p. 7910 (#102) ###########################################

7910
INDIAN LITERATURE
to various divinities; but it is a Collection of hymns from various
sources addressed to Soma alone, the deified yellow plant from which
was made the sacrosanct intoxicating liquor used by the priests in
sacrifice. This general principle of placing in order the family
Circles according to their respective lengths shows that the Rig Veda
Collection as a whole is a work mechanically arranged. A study of
the inner construction of each family Circle confirms this. In each
of these minor Collections, with the exception of the Circle of the
Kanva family, to whom is attributed the eighth book of the Rig Veda
Collection, the hymns are carefully disposed, first according to the
divinity extolled in each hymn, and then according to the length of
the hymn in decreasing order. So thoroughly is this principle carried
out that it is easy to detect interpolated hymns - of which there are
quite a number - by an irregularity in length, or again by observing
that the divinity extolled in any hymn stands out of place in the
proper order of gods.
This last factor carries us from the outer form to the inner sub-
stance of the Hymns. If the former shows that the original editors
of the Rig-Veda Collection followed a mechanical rule in shaping that
Collection, the latter shows no less plainly that the Vedic Hymns are
not, as was supposed until lately, childlike outpourings of spirit on
the part of simple neatherds, or the expression of primitive religious
thought on the part of unsophisticated believers in deified natural
phenomena. It is indeed true that there are unaffectedly simple
hymns to Heaven, to Dawn, to the Sun, and even one to Earth. But
the number of these hymns is out of all proportion to those in which
are extolled the three great priestly divinities, Fire, Indra, Soma.
Furthermore, their place in each family Circle of hymns, as well
as the fact that these divinities have so large a majority of all the
hymns, shows that with some marked exceptions, which probably
reflect in part an older circle of ideas, the purely priestly divinities
were those held in highest esteem. It is not necessary, however, to
assume that these gods were priestly creations. Soma was worshiped
before the Hindus entered India; Fire was probably one of the ear-
liest divinities; and though Indra has not so great an antiquity, he
was yet originally a popular god of storm and tempest. But it is
in the mystical interpretation of these gods in the Hymns that one
may see how far removed from popular and primitive thought is the
theology of the Rig Veda. Agni (Latin ignis) is by no means simply
the god of fire. The songs addressed to him reveal the fact that to
the poets, Agni was above all the fire on the sacrificial altar. Some-
times a more philosophical point of view is taken, and then Agni is
the triune god, the three in one; the god who manifests himself first
in the earthly fire as it burns upon the altar, then as lightning in the


## p. 7911 (#103) ###########################################

INDIAN LITERATURE
7911
sky, and then again as the sun in heaven. So too Indra, the god of
tempest, whose lightning pierces the clouds and lets out the longed-
for rain when the monsoon breaks at the beginning of summer, is
regarded and lauded not as a simple natural phenomenon, but as the
spiritual power behind this phenomenon, mystically identical with
Agni, whose form as lightning is indissolubly linked with the outward
appearance of Indra. But above all, Soma the intoxicating plant — to
which, as was said above, are addressed all the hymns of the ninth
book, besides occasional hymns in other books — is so mystically
interpreted that eventually the yellow plant is esoterically treated
as an earthly form of the moon (whence Soma is sometimes called
the moon-plant); and every stage in the preparation of this drink is
regarded as part of a sacred ceremony, while even the press stones
are deified, and the plant as liquor is spoken of in the most extrava-
gant terms imaginable.
In sharp contrast to these, which constitute the great bulk of the
Rig-Veda Collection, stand the isolated hymns in which are praised
the Dawn and Heaven. Here the style changes. In the Dawn hymns
is found very lovely imagery: most delicate and exquisite portrayal
of the wonderful daily rise of Aurora, as she appears in red and
golden light, bringing blessings to man. The hymns to Heaven,
while for the most part devoid of mysticism, reflect a lofty contem-
plative spirit; and from a literary point of view these hymns are the
finest in the whole Collection, as the Dawn hymns are the most beau-
tiful. The number of these hymns to Dawn and Heaven is small,
and, especially in the case. of the hymns to Heaven, they are confined
chiefly to one or two early family Circles, with some later imitations
in other family Collections. These latter, however, show an increas-
ing mysticism in their treatment of the great Heaven god. In the
early hymns Heaven is not simply the sky: he is the heavenly
power throned in the watery sky, whose eyes are the stars, who
watches over the hosts of men and sees their actions, good and bad.
In the further development of Vedic theology this god is reduced to
a mere god of punishment, who sits enthroned not on the waters of
the sky, but in the depths of the sea. Other hymns in the Rig Veda
Collection are addressed to inferior divinities, of which there are
multitude; while still others are purely philosophical and mystical,
discussing the origin of life and of the world, and reflecting the later
spirit of philosophical investigation. Most of these can be referred
undoubtedly to the end of the work, as can also the few poems of the
Collection on worldly subjects. They are found in the last (tenth)
book, and in recent additions to the first book. The tenth book
contains also some very interesting and apparently antique burial and
wedding hymns; as well as other hymns addressed directly to Yama,
the lord of the dead.
a


## p.