a sort of literary reproach to him; and the fact, that as a man, and a Christian man, he kept himself 'unspotted from the world' has been adduced, even by his admirers, as a reason why he failed more or less in his dramatic works, which, however beautiful in isolated passages, certainly want sustained interest and concentration; better a thousand times, however, that a poet's dramas should prove uninteresting, than that their excellence should spring from their author's worthlessness. And in this respect Uhland presents a marked and useful contrast to the lackadaisical, sentimental, Weltschmerz school, the poets of which trade on their own pretended misery, and, cunningly enough, suggest that their poems must be touching and true in proportion as the authors set themselves forth as peculiarly skilled in bitterness of heart and badness of life. Healthy, sober, frank, and honest, the utterances of Uhland's muse commend themselves to all who value, instead of sneering at, such attributes; and at least no false feeling is excited by their perusal. An admirable comparison between the two schools, or rather between Heine and Uhland as their respective representatives, is given by Professor Vischer, in the spirited allegory with which his essay concludes. An extraordinary excellence in Uhland's pieces is their remarkable truthfulness of construction. Whatever the character be which he portrays, whatever the period described, whatever the circumstances related, there is always a striking appropriateness. In The Hostess's Daughter,' for instance, how completely we have the character of German students depicted, in the mere manner of their address, as well as in the naturalness of their turning in for 'beer and wine' at the end of their little excursion across the Rhine!' Have we not the very swagger of the callow, slender-legged youngsters, the creak of the Kanonen-stiefel, the jingle of the spur, the comical cock of the embroidered muffin-cap? And in the very start which the hostess's answer gives, have we not also before us the exact picture of the quiet, familiar German housewife, who knows the measure of her noisy guests, and treats them as the boys they are; who speaks no cringing word, and runs no eager errand; and seems to take her sorrow as she takes their tumult, as a thing concerning which the fewest words are best? Take again such a lyric as "Der gute Kamerad:' have we not before us in those three stanzas as real a picture as any that our eyes have ever seen of a pair of comrades, as they march, as they fight, as they part? How the soldier's philosophy-every bullet has its billet' is indicated in the abrupt exclamation, almost as the ball is in its flight—' Gilt's mir, oder gilt es dir'! What a reality in the action described! The dying comrade at his feet holds out his hand for a last grasp of his friend's, but the friend is loading his musket: Kann dir die Hand nicht geben, Mein guter Kamerad.' Again, in the Schifflein,' how exactly he describes the fellowship of music, which seems such a pulse of German existence! A boat full of passengers, silent, none knowing another. One takes out a horn and plays; another puts a flute together and joins the strain; and the shy and timid girl, stirred by the influence of that marvellous mesmerism, chimes in with full, sweet voice upon the melody; while the rowers beat the time, and the boat rocks with the music; and while the verses which tell it make a music which in itself is sweet to hear, with what reality the concluding stanza breaks off the flowing tune! We seem to hear the grating of the gravel under the bows : 'Hart stöszt es auf dem Strande, Man trennt sich in die Lande,' and the passengers-strangers once, but strangers no more— exclaim, as they each take their different path "When, brothers, when Shall we together sail again?' These are really the most random instances of one of Uhland's chief and prominent merits; for whether he present to our minds the prince or the peasant, the knight or the serf, the citizen or the soldier-whether his scene be laid in camp or castle, in cottage or in hall-whether his period be that of Holmgang or crusade, legend or history, there is everywhere and always a fitness and accuracy, which, while they prove the talent of the poet, prove also the industry of the student, and display the advantage, to any poetic mind, of many-sided learning and careful storing of various information. We have left ourselves but little space in which to touch upon an interesting part of Uhland's writings, namely, his essays on Ancient Poetry. That on the Old French Epic Poetry' for the first time established the distinction which should be made between the Chansons de geste,' meant for singing, and the 'Contes,' only intended for recitation. His monograph on 'Walther von der Vogelweide,' published in 1822, is original and valuable in the highest degree; and, according to Jahn (no mean authority), 'inaugurated the study of the individual element in ancient German poetry'-in plainer words, led to a more careful study study of the influence of individual poets on the literature of their day. His 'Sagenforschungen,' published in 1836, contains the result of his studies, and the opinions to which they led him on the subject of the whole Scandinavian myth of Thor, which he interprets altogether in a physical sense. A second volume was to have appeared on the subject of Odin, and is said to have been actually in the printer's hands, but to have been withdrawn by its author for the purpose of further corrections. It is to be hoped that it may still appear amongst the collected works. What he himself, however, regarded as his chief philological and antiquarian work was his 'Collection of Old High and Low German Volkslieder,' the first volume of which, containing the text of the pieces, appeared in the years 1844 and 1845. It is much to be desired that the second volume, containing the fruits of his mature and comprehensive critical research on so interesting a subject, may also be given to the world. It remains for us to add a few words as to the person and character of the poet whose works we have been considering. In stature he was not above the middle height; nor at first sight was there anything to indicate the presence of a bardic instinct. His hair, blond in youth, and snow-whit in age, curled round a head whose most striking feature was a fine expansive forehead, which early baldness made still more remarkable. Prominent brows, shading expressive blue eyes, contributed, with a straight-cut, close-set mouth, to give an air of singular firmness and decision to the whole countenance; while the very gait and bearing of the man impressed a beholder with the idea of immoveable firmness and decision, an idea which closer acquaintance never failed to confirm. His physical constitution was sound and vigorous, as his physical frame was lithe and wiry; and till his last illness he retained an activity almost marvellous at his advanced age. He was accustomed year by year to making journeys of pleasure or research (or rather of both united, since research formed his pleasure) to places which his studies made specially interesting to himself. No distance was too great, no fatigue too formidable for him to undertake, if with the prospect of elucidating some moot point of inquiry, or illustrating some historical or philological subject. Throughout his life he was a striking example of determined perseverance. Uhland has been often called-by just the class of people who have the least right, with the greatest readiness, to pronounce opinions on eminent personalities-cold, unimpressionable, almost repellent, in manner. On the mere lion-hunter, disturbing a man of study solely for the gratification of an impertinent curiosity, he may have produced such an impression many a time-for such a class was his abhorrence; and he was not the man to look pleasant when he felt bored; but among those whom he knew and valued, he was a different creature; his taciturnity, often increased by natural diffidence, would melt away when fully at his ease, and he could appear in his more natural character as the mirthful, genial companion, ready and able to please and to be pleased in that sort of intellectual sociality which is the scholar's Eden upon earth. His 'Schattenlied' (written as a sort of charter-song for the little club of kindred spirits which used to meet in Stuttgart at the sign of the Shadow) shows how, while entering in the happiest sense into the spirit of hearty enjoyment, he could interweave noble and kindly thoughts with his merry verses as harmoniously as they were interwoven with his genial nature. To such a man the little supper we are about to record must have been a real treat. When all Germany was congratulating him by telegraph, by addresses, by complimentary verses and serenades, on the completion of his seventy-fifth year, a letter came to hand bearing a Northern post-mark, but without signature. The writer, a lady, stated, that on the Festival of the Assumption, while on her way to mass, on a most lovely morning, the thought of his beautiful lines in The Pilgrim'— 'Blieb der goldne Himmel offen Als empor die Heil'ge fuhr? Blüht noch auf den Rosenwolken Ihres Fusses lichte Spur?' &c. Remains the golden heaven unclosed As when on high the Virgin sped? Glows still upon each roseate cloud The vestige of her gentle tread?' &c. had so come home to her heart that she could not refrain from writing her thanks as a tribute to his birthday, and sending him a present; but that from her distance she had no other way of accomplishing her wish than by enclosing him a piece of gold, which she hoped he would expend on a bottle (or two, if possible) of first-rate wine, and drink it for her sake. A good bottle of wine was never wanting in Uhland's house, and his excellent wife proposed to give the money to the poor. 'Twice as much, if you like,' he said, 'but that especial ducat is my own, and it shall go as it was meant to go.' And so it did, and, as he himself declared, gave him as much pleasure as many a higher compliment. An anecdote of his remarkable modesty may be quoted. When just coming into public notice as a writer, he happened to be at Carlsruhe, when a gentleman sent in his card with a request to see him; the stranger entered, and after exchanging a few common-places, withdrew with the apology that 'he had mistaken him for the poet Uhland,' and was allowed to depart without a word of explanation. Much the same sort of thing once happened to him on a steamboat, when a phrenologist, having examined his head, pronounced him beyond all question to be a watchmaker, an error which the poet never attempted to correct. He so detested anything like public notice as persistently to refuse sitting for his portrait, and an artist having once visited him for the purpose of taking a likeness by stealth, found his endeavour frustrated by his host turning his back to him while continuing the conversation on which they had entered. It is not difficult to understand, and indeed to excuse, one most unromantic act of which he was guilty. Having been once caught in passing through a town, and presented with a laurel crown, he hung it up on the first tree he passed after recommencing his journey. But, after all, such a fate is but a question of time with all such embarrassing gifts; probably Horace did much as Uhland with the . . . . doctarum hederæ præmia frontium,' though it seemed to give him rank with the high Olympians. This modesty of Uhland's was at times united with singular delicacy and consideration, of which the following may afford example. Having heard that the so-called Klingenberg Chronicle had been discovered in the library at St. Gallen, he hastened thither to inspect it, in the hope of finding there some reference to the legends of William Tell, a subject he was then investigating; he returned home, stating that the MS. contained nothing on the subject. Did you read it?' asked his friend Pfeiffer. 'No,' he replied, as the person from whom I enquired did not offer it me for perusal, I thought it possible he might be thinking of writing something on the same subject, and did not like to ask.' 6 A man in the truest sense single minded, he was firm as rock and honest as gold; a lover of truth and justice, whom no self-interest could mislead, and no corruption contaminate, he held fast the affection of many, and gained the full respect of all. Unassuming and modest at all times, he shrank from personal prominence, while fearing the notice or the censure of no man in the discharge of public duty; high-hearted and noble in purpose, pure in thought, and honest in act, he was a firm friend and a gallant enemy, a hater of falsehood, an upholder of right. As a lad, exposed to the temptations of a city like Paris, the old porteress of his lodgings could exclaim 'Happy the mother of so virtuous a son!' as an old man, when the grave closed over him, his country echoed with witness to his excellence. His views at times may have been mistaken, they were never insincere ; his conduct may occasionally have appeared obstinate, none ever presumed to doubt its being honest. Con tented |