Sträuchlein kommen weisse Blümlein. Wenn sich dass Blümlein aufthut, so siehest du ein Stielchen; aus dem Stielchen kommt ein Kern, welcher härter ist, als der Baum; inwendig in dem harten Kern, wächset ein anderer Kern, nicht so hart, wie der erste Kern, sondern etwas weicher, dass er zu essen dienet, gleichwie das Mark im Bein wächset. Auswendig um den harten Kern rings herum wächset die Kirsche, mit einer Haut überzogen, wie das Fleisch um das Beim wächset, und mit der Haut umgeben ist, und wächset die Kirsche so fein lustig rund, dass sie kein Drechsler so rund machen kann. Wiegehet das zu? Dass durch das Reislein am Kirschbaum, welches um Weihnachten dürr und todt ist, wie Besenreis, wächst ein Knötlein, und aus dem Knötlein kömmt ein weisses Blümlein; aus dem Blümlein kömmt ein Stielchen, und durch das Stielchen wächst ein Kern; das bringt inwendig wieder einen Kern, und auswendig eine Kirsche; das Stielchen is erstlich ein klein Spitzlein im Blümlein, also dass man kaum mit einer Nadelspitze hindurch stechen könnte; dennoch wächset herdurch ein Kern, derselbe hat sein Mark, Fleisch, Blut und Haut. Ist das nicht ein wunderbar Geschöpf Gottes ? Keine Kreatur kann solch Geschöpf also machen; kein Mensch, kein König, wie mächtig er auch sei; kein Doctor, wie gelehrt, weise und klug er sei, kann ein einziges Kirschlein schaffen Und wenn wir's nicht jährlich vor unsern Augen sähen, so glaubeten wir es nicht dass aus einem dürren Reislein solche schöne, liebliche Frucht, so wunderbarlich wachsen sollte. Darum, lieber Hanns Pfriemen, thu' die Augen auf, siehe den Kirschbaum an, derselbe wird dir predigen von der Todten Auferstehung, und dich lehren, wie das Leben aus dem Tode kömmt. Wenn der Kirschbaum reden könnte, so würde er zu dir sagen: Lieber, siehe doch mich an zur Winterzeit; wie dürr, wie kahl, wie unfruchtbar, wie gar todt ich bin, da findest du an mir weder Laub noch Frucht, weder Saft noch Leben; aber komm wieder nach Ostern, so hab ich Saft und Leben, bin weiss von Blüthe, grün von Blättern; komm um Margeretha wieder, so habe ich reife Kirschen, und ist mir alle opened, you see a small stalk; out of this stalk comes a kernel harder than the tree; inside the hard kernel grows another kernel, not so hard as the first, but a little softer, so that it may be eaten just as we see the marrow growing in the bone. Around this hard kernel grows the cherry, covered with a skin, just as the flesh grows round the bone, surrounded with its skin, and the cherry grows thus merrily on, so that no turner could make it rounder. How is all this? The little twig of the cherry-tree, dry and dead like a broom-twig at Christmas time, produces a little knot, and out of this little knot comes a little white flower; and out of the flower a little stalk, and through that little stalk grows a kernel; producing inside another kernel, and on the outside a cherry; the little stalk forms at first a little point in the blossom, so that scarcely the point of a needle could pierce it, and yet a kernel finds its way through it, with its marrow, flesh, blood, and skin. Is this not a wonderful creature of God? No man can produce such a creature; no king, however mighty he may be; no doctor, however learned, wise, and gifted, is able to create a single little cherry. And if we did not see it every year before our eyes, we should not believe that out of a dry twig should arise such a beautiful, lovely, and wonderful fruit. Therefore, my dear John Pfriemen, open your eyes, and look at the cherrytree; it will preach to you of the resurrection of the dead, and teach you how life springs from death. If the cherrytree could speak, it would say to you: My dear, pray look at me in winter; look how dry, stripped, barren, and dead I am, without leaves, fruit, sap, or life; but return after Easter, then I have sap and life, then I am covered with white blossoms and green leaves; come again at Midsummer, then my cherries are ripe, and everybody looking at me likes me, seems astonished, and says; "O, look at that cherry Welt hold; wer mich ansiehet, verwundert sich über mich und spricht; Siehe dort, wie voll hänget der Kirschbaum, wie ein wunder bare Kreatur Gottes ist das? Ein Weib empfähet, träget, gebieret einen Sohn; derselbe hat Leib und Seele, wächset, wird stark und gross, stehet, gehet, lebet und webet; fragest du, woraus solcher Sohn komme? So saget die Vernunft Arzeneikunst, Erfahrung, desgleichen auch Gottes Wort: Dieses Sohnes erster Anfang sei ein Embryo. Wie gehet das nun zu? Dass aus einem kleinen embryo soll werden ein solcher lebendiger, vernünftiger Mensch, so grosser Person und Länge, so scharfes Verstandes, so reicher Sinne? Sanct Petrus, Paulus, Augustinus, Ambrosius, Johannes Huss, ich Doctor Martinus; woraus sind diese alle worden? Ist nicht ihr erster Anfang ein embryo? Aber wir sind Hanns Pfriemen, die nichts verstehen noch merken wollen. Also ist dieser Artikel von der Todten Auferstehung gewaltiglich erwiesen durch das Korn auf dem Felde, durch den Kirschbaum und andere Bäume im Garten, und endlich durch unser eigen Leib und Leben. Wer es nicht glauben will, der fahre immer hin und bleibe ein grober Narr und Hanns Pfriemen. tree full of fruit! what a wonderful creature of God? A woman brings forth a son, who has body and soul; grows, gets strong and tall, moves about full of spirit and life, and you ask, Whence came he? And reason, experience, and the word of God will answer, This was first but an embryo. How does this happen? That out of an embryo, a man full of life, gifted with reason, tall in person, and possessing so many senses, should have proceeded? St. Peter, Paul, Augustine, Ambrosius, John Huss, I, Doctor Martin? what are we made of? Are we not all particles? No: I am afraid we are all like John Pfriemen, who will not see nor understand. Thus we see the epistle of the resurrection of the dead is proved by the corn in the fields, the cherry-tree, and other trees in the garden, and, finally, by our own life and body. Whoever will not believe it, let him go, and remain a simpleton like John Pfriemen. FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE 17TH TO THE MIDDLE OF THE 18TH CENTURY. THE study of the works of the Romans and Greeks began now to react on German literature; but its influence became more apparent in proportion as learning, hitherto confined to the few, penetrated the middle stratum of society. The study of ancient literature,' says Mr. D'Aubigné, in his History of the Reformation, produced, in Germany, results entirely different from those which proceeded from it in Italy and France. For, in Germany, the study was mingled with faith. That which only brought forth among the people of the latter countries a certain refinement of the intellect, minute in its character, and barren of fruit, penetrated the whole life of the German scholars, gave warmth to their hearts, and prepared them for the reception of a better light. The first restorers of letters, both in Italy and France, signalised themselves by light, and, often, by immoral conduct. Their successors in Germany, ani mated with an earnest spirit, sought zealously after truth in all departments of knowledge. Italy, offering her incense to profane literature and science, produced an unbelieving opposition to the Church. Germany, occupied with profound theology, and driven back on her own thoughts, produced an opposition full of faith. In the one country, men sapped the foundations of the Church; in the other, they laid them afresh. A remarkable assembly of free, learned, and generous men, formed itself in this empire, which counted princes amongst its numbers, and which made it an object to render learning useful to religion. Some of them brought to their studies the humble faith of children; others an enlightened, penetrating spirit, disposed, perhaps, to go beyond the bounds of legitimate freedom of criticism; but both contributed, in their several ways, to cleanse the approaches of the temple, obstructed by such a mass of superstition.' However much truth there exists in these remarks, it can, on the other hand, not be denied, that the exclusive spirit in which the study of classical writings was carried on in Germany, at the time we are alluding to, proved at first highly detrimental to the development of our national literature; we say 'at first,' for, in the sequel, these scholastic pursuits, followed by our great classical writers, infused into it a new element, awakened a spirit of inquiry, a thirst for knowledge, and founded thereby unconsciously the authority of reason. Even the shady sides of scholastics, the many absurd questions which they debated, their manifold, unnecessary, and accidental distinctions, and their subtleties must be attributed to a reasonable principle, to their thirst for light and inquiry, which, under the oppressive dominion of the old churchspirit, could not vent itself otherwise. It was only when, overtaken by the advancing spirit of the times, that the scholastic, in contradiction with its original signification, identified itself with the cause and the interest of the old hierarchy, and thus became the most inveterate opponent of the spirit of modern civilization.' True, but far better would it have been for Germany, had that scholastic light, causing subsequently so much misery, never shone! Among other evils, it led to the introducing of an anti-national code of laws, an experiment of questionable wisdom; because the institutions of nations should be adapted to the character and manners of those for whom they are framed, for, alien laws, however wise, must, if forced upon a people, necessarily cause antagonism, and lead to violent political commotions. Other causes likewise contributed to impede mental development. The Thirty Years' War was then raging at its fiercest; bloodthirsty Vandals trampled under foot the seeds of German fields, and spread unutterable woe and misery over the whole fatherland, and when peace was at last established at home, we had to fight abroad against the Turks, against France, and against Sweden. It was a gloomy page in our history; every lofty aspiration had been stifled, and the nation, bowed down by the long suffering, become utterly apathetic to their own interests. Gradually, however, a ray of returning light appeared. A number of literary associations were formed, to save the language from ruin. We hear now of the founding of literary associations of the Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft,' of the Palm Order, a distinction similar to that created in Italy, of the 'Spruchgesellschaft, die aufrichtige Tannen-Gesellschaft, die deutschgesinnte Genossenschaft,' that of the 'Pegnitzchäfer,' the Elbschwanenorder,' and similar societies, which, notwithstanding the many eccentricities which their various statutes contained, effected much good. Moscherosch, in his 'Gesicht vom Soldatenleben,' and in other writings, described the fearful depravity of the nobility. Johann Arndt, Thomasius, Andrae, Schupp, Weise, exerted themselves patriotically to introduce into our universities, where classics, theology, and jurisprudence had been studied by the few, something of a national element. Leipsic, and, above all, Halle, became the centres of exertions which were stimulated by Spätner and Thomasius. Puffendorf became the founder of a new code of public laws; Böhme, the erudite philosopher, and Leibnitz, the critic, found in Christian von Wolf a disciple worthy of them. Literature, at first the abode of the South, had evidently emigrated to the North. The deutsche Gesellschaft,' founded in 1697, at Leipsic, promoted the cultivation of national poetry, and the Princes of Köthen, Weimar, Brunswick, and Saxony, encouraged this movement. Then appeared the founder of the first Silesian school, Opitz, whose efforts for the promoting of German literature, we must the more appreciate, when we bear in mind the difficulties he had to contend with. The High German had now established its ascendency over the Low German; but the prose style lost the purity and vigour with which Luther had imbued it. Philology, that branch of literature, the practical results of which we experience so much in our own days, found at that time also worthy representatives in Eccard, Gueinz, Schottel, Bödiker, Frisch, Goldast, Julius, Schilter, Scherz, Opitz, Zesen, and Leibnitz. Poetry, not entirely neglected, was cultivated by Roberthin and Dach. The Kirchenlied (church-hymn), for which this period is particularly distinguished, found many worthy representatives, in Rist, Rinckart, Neumark, Albinus, Paul Gerhard, Heerman, and others, who wrote those beautiful hymns, 'O Ewigkeit du Donnerwort,' 'Nun danket alle Gott,' 'Wer nur den lieben Gott lässt walten,'' Alle Menschen müssen sterben,' 'Ich singe dir von Herz und Mund,' 'Nun ruhn alle Wälder,'' Befiehl du deine Wege,' and other hymns, which have filled the heart of many a sufferer with consolation and hope, and made man bear the adversities of life with resignation (see Selection of Hymns). Yes, these beautiful sacred and church-songs, 'Geistliche und Kirchenlieder,' redeemed, in a great measure, in a literary point of view, the chaacter of this otherwise barren period. Then followed the writers of the so-called second Silesian School, represented by Hofmannswaldau and Lohenstein, whose writings, offering only an historical interest, are indeed the true reflectors of the prevailing taste of that period. From that period dates also the German novel, and thosc terror-inspiring Räuber-und Ritterromane,' which so powerfully and mischievously acted upon the imagination of the young and inexperienced. In concluding these remarks, we must mention two men of literary note, whose exertions had a not unimportant influence on the mental development in Germany at that period, and which foreshadowed the dawn that was soon to dispel the gloom spread over our mental regions. We allude to Gottsched and Bodmer, celebrated for their long-sustained controversy, the former belonging to the Leipsic school, the latter to that of Switzerland. Bodmer, the first who translated Milton's 'Paradise Lost' into German, was a great admirer of English literature, whilst Gottsched offered his adulation to that of France. This war of the pen lasted for a considerable time; two parties, the Bodmeranians and Gottschedians were formed, and the contest only ceased after Haller had thrown in his mental weight in favour of Bodmer, a great gain for Germany, because it led to the study of the great English writers, and exercised, subsequently, a very salutary influence on our own national literature. Gottsched has generally and deservedly been condemned for his pedantry and vapoury style, yet, however little we may admire his poetical, oratorical, and stylistic efforts, thanks are due to him for his efforts to raise our language, then in a most neglected state, to something like a classical standard. A most erudite theorist, he wanted the tact and skill, perhaps the refined feeling, to give utterance to his conceptions, in a manner to win, please, and convince his readers. From Gottsched's school have sprung Haller, a Swiss by birth, so remarkable for the description of the scenery of nature in his native land, Hagedorn, the fabulist, Liskow, the satirical writer, |