| | | | There is in existence, we believe, a medical work, relating | the history of the epidemics which prevailed in the middle | ages. The history of literature and philosophy might | profitably be studied in the same light. The mind has its | epidemics as well as the body, nay, every important | revolution in intellect has owed the most material part of its | force to an epidemic, or other infectious influence. Among | the Intellectual epidemics of modern times, few are more | curious than the Romanticism of Germany; and few possess | greater interest for us; since the literature of our own nation | has furnished a vast number of phenomena which are truly | cases of epidemic infection, or cases in which a disease, | constitutional in the original patients, has been | communicated to our literary men through the medium of | the common intellectual atmosphere. | Lessing and Herder as philosophical thinkers, Goethe and | Schiller as poetic inventors, were the precursors, the | pioneers of Romanticism. But these great men were in no | proper, sense the founders of the Romantic school. Indeed, | the characteristic idea of that school, ~~ the attempt at a | systematic restoration of the literary forms and of the | literary spirit peculiar to the middle ages, ~~ was an idea | which genius of a high order must have refused to | recognise. It was an idea inconsistent with the valuable | principle which Lessing and Herder had the merit of being | the first to evolve comprehensively and clearly, ~~ the | principle, namely, of adaptation, ~~ the principle which | teaches us that literature, while its primal essence is always | and everywhere | the same, is modified to a certain extent | even in its essence, and is varied infinitely in its forms, by | the ever changing circumstances attendant on time and | place. This principle justifies the corollary which was | drawn from it by its first expositors, ~~ that the stern and | simple classical literature, and the multiform literature of | Europe in the middle ages, were, each for its time and place, | a legitimate expression of thought and emotion. But the | principle would not justify (indeed it would directly | contradict) the assertion, that thought and emotion, | characteristically belonging to our own modern times, will | find their proper expression in a literature moulded exactly | on that of the middle ages, or of the very earliest period in | modern civilisation. In truth, such an assertion is so | manifestly absurd, that it has never been made by any | thinker of note; not even by the brothers Schlegel; although | these ingenious and active-minded men, the theoretical | leaders in the school of Romanticism, have drawn from the | principles of their predecessors not a few inferences which | are quite as unsound, and some which involve the absurd | position itself. But even the Schlegels, in their imaginative | writings, (especially Frederick, the more fanciful of the | two,) and still more decidedly the leading poets of the | school; Tieck and Novalis have earnestly attempted, in | their works of poetic invention, to make this very law | practically imperative; while those painters and other artists | which were led away by the prevailing enthusiastic, | avowedly aimed (and were assisted in the endeavor by | Rumohr and other speculators of the theory of art) at | regenerating the fine arts by a process, in which the first | step was a return to the stiffness of form and childlike | simplicity of expression distinguishing the Italian masters | of the fifteenth century. The chimerical character of the | undertaking is sufficiently exposed by the curious fact, that | several of those literary men and artists, discovering, in the | course of their studies, that Roman Catholicism had been | the religion of the times which they wished imaginatively | to restore and finding that a man's practical belief exercises | a powerful influence on the images called up by his fancy, | gravely deserted their Protestantism, in order to remove the | last barrier which seemed to lie between them and the | world of chivalry. If further proof were wanting, it would | be furnished by an attentive study of the best works of | invention to which the Romantic school of Germany gave | birth. In all of them there is a continually recurring want of | harmony, a jarring of irreconcileable elements, a conflict of | the present, which all exertion could not banish, with the | past, which all exertion could not completely revive. The | most powerful genius must have suffered shipwreck on this | voyage in search of a new Altantis; and the fine though | second-rate genius of those who set out on the adventure | was wrecked before they had lost sight of the harbour. | Tieck, perhaps, would hardly have effected greater things | even if he had possessed a sound poetical theory to guide | him: his intellect wanted both subtlety and | comprehensiveness: and there cannot be a more lamentable | mistake than to suppose that a man can be a great poet | without possessing good common sense. But the fragments | which were the only fruits of the short life of Novalis, | exhibit at once a beauty of imagination, and a strength of | thought, indicating powers which might have worked to | much better purpose. | Frederick Baron de la Mottee Fouque, one of the most | distinguished among the imaginative writers of the German | Romantic school, was descended of an old Norman family, | which, being Protestant, took refuge in Germany in the | persecutions of the French Huguenots . He was born at | New Brandenberry, in 1777, served in the Prussian army in | the campaigns succeeding the year 1790, and again took | arms in 1813, after which he retired with the rank of major. | After that time he lived alternately at Berlin, and on an | estate in Branderberry, which he had acquired by marriage. | The Baroness who was several years older than her | husband was hardly less industrious in authorship than he | | was but did not by any means attain the same notoriety. | She died in 1831; and the Baron, we believe, died at Berlin | in the beginning of 1843. | The writings of De La Motte Fouque are several poems, | narrative or dramatic, and a large number of prose | romances. His works in verse are not at all known in this | country, except to a few students of German literature; nor | have they among the writer's own countrymen been so | much esteemed as his romance in prose. Of these there are | several which have been translated into English. | Collections of translated German romances contain some of | the best of the tales which make up his six volumes of | "Small Romances:" there is a translation also of his "Magic | Ring," the most ambitious of his attempts in prose fiction | and his "Undine," the most ideal of his effusions, is familiar | to all the lovers of poetical beauty. His romance called | "The Voyages of Thiodolf," is the work of which a | translation, executed well and correctly, though in some | places rather stiff, now lies on our table. It was regarded by | the Baron himself as the best of his prose tales. It was first | printed at Hamburg in 1818. The English publisher, who | has already issued translations of several works of Fouque, | announces, as we observe, some other volumes: and we | wish him success in the undertaking. These works are | among the best specimens of their class which the German | language possess: and their poetical refinement and high | moral tone would entitle them to a respectful attention, | though their faults were more numerous than they are. | We should have liked well to speak at some length of | Fouque's works in verse. In his most elaborate production | of this class, the irregular dramatic poem called "The Hero | of the North," we have always taken great delight; and we | may, perhaps, be tempted to embrace some other | opportunity of presenting a critical analysis, with translated | specimens, of this very interesting composition. It treats an | ancient German legend, the story of Sigurd, or Siegfried, | the Serpent-slayer. Its conception and many features in its | execution, are directly traceable to the "Lay of the | Nibelungen," the rude epic of Gemany, which, when the | first part of Fouque's poem was composed, it was the | fashion, in the literary circles of that country, to regard as | standing in the same class with the Iliad. There is hardly a | scene in the "Hero of the North" which does not exhibit | instances, both of those faults which arose from the | character of the poet's own mind, and of those impressed on | his work by the laws of the school after which he had | modelled his way of poetical thinking. But there is in it | some deep pathos, infinite chivalrous vigor, and many | touches of high poetic imagination. | In Fouque's prose romances, the quality which determines | the character is the pervading spirit of fine idealism. Those | of them that are worth anything, | owe their worth chiefly to | the fact, that, if they have no other merit, their conception is | poetical. Those of them that are quite worthless, are so | because the main conception is one which did not admit of | being treated poetically. Thus, nothing can be poorer than | the attempts at humour; and the few tales built exclusively | on this basis are quite beneath criticism. And thus, also, | where the leading idea is lofty and serious, the spirit of it is | caught with a placid rapture, and represented, in its leading | features, with a simple purity, which atone for all | occasional lapses. Those who are acquainted with | "Undine" will readily allow the truth of this remark; and | they will also be disposed, ~~ while those who have read | the author's works more extensively cannot but be fully | prepared, ~~ to admit that he is a most wretched and | bungling constructor of plots. He fails utterly in every | attempt to do more than relate, in natural order, the most | simple series of incidents. Complicated chains of facts | perplex him, and he, in his turn, perplexes his readers: the | labyrinth becomes more and more dark and entangled, and | the clue, if we ever possessed it, speedily escapes from our | grasp. Not one of his larger tales is an exception to this | censure. The "Magic Ring" is a perfect specimen of | confusion worse confounded: and there is much of the | same fault in a simpler and more pleasing work, "The | Persecuted," (Der Verolgte.) It is only in some of his short | tales and legends, that we are freed from the painful effort | which his ravelled threads of narrative cost us. Nor is this | the only fault in the outline of his works. The same | deficiency in practical sense and judgment, which makes | him incompetent to grapple with a complex group of facts, | ~~ co-operates with that systematic limitation of antique | simplicity, which is a main characteristic of the literary sect | he belongs to, in producing a forced and false naivete, | which often borders on childishness, and sometimes | becomes absolutely silly. | Examples, pertinent enough, are furnished by the two | romances last named. The closing scene of the "Magic | Ring" has evidently cost the Baron not a little trouble; and | he shows symptoms of priding himself considerably upon | the success of the careful preparation he has made for it | from the very commencement. All the leading characters | of the piece are grouped together, at the end, with much of | the author's picturesqueness of arrangement, and with his | usual spirit in the description of knightly scenes and | adventures. And then all the mysteries of the tale are | unveiled, and all its seeming disconnection of parts is | proved to have been but seeming. How is this done? By | making us aware that the old knight, Sir Hugh, whose | acknowledged son, Otto, is the hero of the main story, is | really, ~~ we regret being obliged to announce a fact so | little creditable to the morality of the middle ages, ~~ the | father, also, of nearly all the other personages of the piece. | Literally, they are almost all of them children, by several | mothers, of this knightly old Lothario. Another idea, even | more ludicrous, is brought prominently forward in "The | Persecuted." The story of this fine and spirited romance is | laid in the time of Charlemagne; and the hero a young | Saxon, is tormented in mind, throughout the whole progress | of the adventures, by superstitious fear of a demon whom | he supposes to beset him. The name of the demon | | is Atracura. How, in the name of wonder, is this unheard | of evil spirit conjured up? Why, by the ignorance of Latin, | which, with a proper adherence to historical truth, the | author has represented as belonging to the Saxon hero | Engelschall, and to most of his friends. A wandering | scholar, chastised, and at least killed, by a Frankish knight | who is a principal person in the tale, has revenged himself | on his knightly tormentor, by singing to him, with | malicious emphasis, verses from Horace, including the line, | | The knight obtains a translation of all the words except the | last two: these he regards as the name of a devil whom his | learned enemy had invoked to plague him and his family: | he communicates this belief to his daughter and her lover | Engelschall: and King Desiderius of Lombardy, the | illustrious victim of Charlemagne, is introduced, with great | pomp, in the catastrophe, for no earthly purpose but that of | anticipating Smart's Horace, and easing the mind of the | hero and heroine on their marriage day, by a complete and | accurate translation! Really this is almost as bad as the | worst follies of Tieck, who, when he attempts to think | systematically, becomes the most silly of all drivellers. | We have dwelt long on the faults of our author; and the | nature of these is such, that, if our judgment on them be just, | none of his most elaborate writings can be otherwise than | seriously defective. And so, we think, the case stands. | Even in "Undine" itself, a tale founded on a thought which | is at once exquisitely fine and deeply touching, there is | very much that causes the flow of feeling to stop painfully | and abruptly. And, when the allegorical turn which that | tale indicates, is allowed to develop itself elaborately, we | lose ourselves altogether in the cloud of mist which gathers | round us, from all quarters at once. For our own part, we | never could muster patience to understand all the | perplexities of "The Magic Ring." | But everywhere, | even in the least successful of the author's | works, (excepting only "The Tale of the Three Pictures," | and one or two other melancholy attempts at the ludicrous,) | there breaks out that fine spirit of poetry to which we | alluded a little ago, and to which we called attention early, | lest we should seem to be throwing away our time upon a | writer who has no excellence whatever to make him worthy | of receiving criticism. Some of the shorter pieces, | throughout, ~~ "The Vow," for instance, (which has been | translated,) ~~ "The Champion," ~~ "The Repose on the | Flights," ~~ and many parts of the longer tales, ~~ are | inspired by a fine harmony of feeling, a quiet felicity of | imagery, and an exquisite sense of the relations that bind | together the spiritual and the material, which are worthy of | a true poet, and fully entitle this author to claim the | honourable name. And in that highest and most difficult | branch of poetic art, which consists in the imagining of | human character, we cannot, indeed, assert that he displays | genius of the first order; but we can safely say, that the first | touches of his outline are often vigorous as well as fine, and | that the failure lies in the evolvement of the conception | rather than in its first formation. He is often exceedingly | successful, likewise, in exciting, in favour of his characters, | sympathetic emotion of a lofty as well as pure kind. There | is something exceedingly attractive in the idea (imperfectly | brought out in the sequel) which the writer sets before us, | in introducing to us Engelschall the young hero of "The | Persecuted." He is a high-minded and noble-hearted man, | misplaced, misjudged, and injures; yet firm in his own | sense of duty, even when he sees that its performance must | go utterly unrewarded. He is a Christian among the | heathen Saxons; and while he draws down upon his head | the vengeance of his countrymen, by rescuing a Christian | child about to be sacrificed, he sternly refuses to join | Charlemagne, and king of the Franks, in his attempt to | subjugate the Saxon nation. This idea of self-sacrifice is a | favourite one with Fouque; and it is affectingly brought out | in several of his pieces, ~~ most successfully where he can | make it subservient to that plea of chivalry, which is the | theme that kindles him into his warmest enthusiasm. | Indeed, his strength lies in the portraiture of the chivalrous | character, ~~ in its aspects of war, of love, and still more of | religion; but of the chivalrous character, not in its full | development, but in that rudimental state in which we may | poetically imagine it to have existed in the earlier stages of | its gradual formation. The northern sagas, and those | Germanic traditions of which the Nibelugen-lay is the | concentration, possess his imagination, and arouse his | ardour, not less strongly, perhaps even more so, than the | French romances of chivalry, or the Italian poems in which | chivalry received its poetical apotheosis. | The story told in "Thiodolf," is calculated to excite all its | author's liveliest feelings. It is the history of a young | Icelandic hero of the tenth century, whose adventurous | wanderings through Europe bring him into relations with | the knights of Provence and Italy, the Mahometans of | northern Africa, the Emperor and nobles of Constantinople, | and the barbaric hordes of the Bulgarian valleys. In the | management of the materials this collected, the author | shows alike his besetting faults and his redeeming | excellencies. He gives us much confusion of narrative, and | a little silliness and insipidity. But these are only bolts | breaking out occasionally, in a picture painted with great | spirit, and with fine poetic tenderness. | The character of the hero is one which Fouque delights | much in contemplating. Its peculiarity consists in the union | of frank simplicity with adventurous courage. The man is | half child, half demi-god. This is the outline of the | character of the persecuted Engelschall, who is on the | whole the most successful figure the author has painted. | The same features prevail, in gigantic dimensions, | throughout the scenes in which we encounter Sigurd the | Serpent-slayer; and they recur in all the most animated of | the minor stories. They appear, in simple touches, in the | little story known to English readers, called "the Field of | Terror." They are carefully coloured in all those pieces | which treat stories taken from the Scandinavian | | legends. In the "Thiodolf," the character is at first painted | with great force and precision. One main defect of the | work, a defect which exemplifies the writer's want of | steady and comprehensive power of thinking, lies in this, | that the incidents and the character do not square with each | other; that the adventures in which the Icelandic warrior is | engaged, are often indeed highly interesting in themselves, | but seldom tend to bring out the features of the character, | and might have proceeded exactly in the same manner, | though that character had been very different. | The first chapter of the romance makes us acquainted with | Thiodolf, and with the Tuscan knight Pietro and his | Provencal lady. These three are the principal persons of the | story. | | It is in the progress of that part of the narrative, where the | scene continues to be laid in Iceland, that the figure of the | hero is most elaborately depicted. We are presented with | little incidents, exhibiting all the prominent points of his | character and position; his simple-mindedness; his | singleness and warmth of heart; his hastiness of temper, | bursting sometimes into the wild berserker rage, | constitutional in his race; his gigantic strength of body, and | his heroic courage; the simple and ignorant piety of his | religious sentiments, heathen in their form, half-Christian | in their essence. | | | | Pietro tells the story of his love for Malgherita; and | Thiodolf, among his other mad freaks, kidnaps a Christian | priest to marry the lovers. This exploit brings on him a | quarrel with the priest's powerful protector, which he | eludes by a rude expedient, imitated from the sagas, and not | worth describing. But the introduction of the feud is | characteristic; ~~ | | | | The winter passes away; and the shipwrecked travellers sail | from Iceland for the south of Europe, in a ship which has | been built by Thiodolf, and in which he accompanies and | protects them. He is attracted longingly by the report his | friends have given him, of the majestic beauty of | Malgherita's elder sister Isolde. The Provencal baron, the | father of the sisters, had refused to give the younger in | marriage while the elder remained unmarried. She, the | elder, had declared that no bridegroom was worthy of her; | and hence had arisen the difficulties which tempted Pietro | to elope with his mistress. The young Icelander swears that | he will tame the Provencal lady's pride. Accordingly, when | in their voyage they approach the coast of Provence, he | insists on landing, and undertakes to make Isolde his own, | and thus to remove the barrier to a reconciliation. The | means he uses for this purpose, are very brave, and (with | respect be it said) very foolish. The issue is that which | foolish bravery deserves. Isolde, secretly pleased with | Thiodolf, but naturally discontented with his rough style of | wooing, escapes from him, and disappears, | no-one knows | whither. The baron, distracted by the loss of both of his | daughters, invokes on Malgherita's head a curse, which is | not fully reveled to us as yet, but which is to make her and | her husband miserable for years. Thiodolf is sorely | dejected. He has begun to learn that brute courage is not | the most efficient instrument for promoting human | happiness. In this portion of the narrative, there is some | very picturesque description. Here is the approach to the | coast of Provence: ~~ | | | | The scene of Thiodolf's wooing, likewise, is too important | to be passed over entirely; but it is too long to be quoted in | full: ~~ | | | | But while Thiodolf had thus been searching fruitlessly for | Isolde, that proud lady's sister had suffered heavy | calamities. He father, although essentially mad, was not so | mad as not to know that there must be a cause before there | can be a corresponding effect. He had cursed his daughter | Malgherita, prophesying that she should never hold a | healthy child on her lap till a certain condition were | fulfilled. The nature of the condition he had wisely kept to | himself: perhaps, when we discover it, we may think it | hardly worth looking for. But in another particular the | crazed baron had acted yet more wisely: he had taken the | precaution of giving his course a help. He had sailed to | Tuscany with his vassals, and burned his son-in-law's castle | to the ground. An infant son, lately born by Malgherita, | disappeared in the conflagration. Thiodolf has now another | object to seek for: he sails southward with Pietro and | Malgherita. | Among the adventures they meet with before reaching the | metropolis of the Eastern empire, there are some which | must not be left unnoticed. One or two give characteristic | traits of the hero, and of his nation and age. Another is | important for the further progress of the story. | Thiodolf has squandered his treasures among the beggared | inhabitants of the district surrounding Pietro's destroyed | castle. His Icelandic soldiers have remonstrated and | complained; and in his anger he has raised his hand to | strike an old man, who had been the organ of the grumblers. | The affront called for reparation; and the chief offers the | combat to his insulted follower. | | | | After this, Thiodolf exacts tribute from the island of Zante, | professing that it was a debt owing to his father, who had | given service to the Zantiotes, and been refused payment. | He first demands from them the sum owing, and a fine for | the delay. When they hesitate, he shows himself to be, with | all his simplicity, not ill qualified for the financial | department in his national profession of piracy. | | From the Ionian Islands the sea-king's vessel sails to | Laconia, whose remembrances of vanished bravery stir | powerfully the spirit of the young Northman. On this | classical shore they have an adventure, which calls for a | retrospect. We omitted to say, that in Norway, on the | voyage, Thiodolf had gained in combat a venerated trophy, | the golden shield of Helmfrid. The famous warrior had | been vanquished, and had lost his shield. His mistress, the | daughter of the king of Norway, had retired from the world, | to pine in sorrow; and he himself, dishonoured and | despairing, had disappeared from all men's sight. Now, in | the forest near Lacedaemon, Thiodolf and his followers | discover traces of a Northern band of warriors; in a laurel | tree they find fixed a gigantic lance, which none but | Thiodolf can draw out. He exultingly declares it to be the | spear of Helmfrid. | | | | Helmfrid has entered the service of the Greek emperor. He | commands the emperor's northern body guards, those brave | and faithful Vaeringers whom Gibbon has described, and | whom Scott, in his declining days, feebly endeavoured to | portray in "Count Robert of Paris." Thioldolf, learning that | he will find at Constantinople the supposed seducer of | Isolde, joyfully agrees to accompany an ancient soldier | thither. | Throughout the latter half of the book the young Icelander | is a soldier of the Greek empire. There are many fine | things in this part of the story, and some things so good that | we are sorry to find our limits for criticism or extract are | already almost reached. There is great splendour of | description, both of natural scenery in southern Europe, and | of the magnificence which dazzled the eyes of beholders in | the luxurious imperial court. The interest of the narrative, | likewise, which is far too much divided in the earlier stage | of these Byzantine adventures, rises again towards the close, | that becomes at last exceedingly intense. Nor, still, is this | second half of the romance by any means wanting in | strokes of character-painting. Indeed the principal purpose | of this half is the completion of Thiodolf's taming ~~ if we | may be allowed the application of such a phrase to the | phase by which the wild young heathenish sea king is | softened down into civilisation and Christianity. But, as a | whole this second stage in the development of the hero's | character is not so successfully depicted as was the first. | Fouque's genius, admirably qualifying him for painting a | scene of chivalrous bravery, of heroic self-sacrifice, or of | romantic and poetic tenderness, is by no means adequate | for dealing with the dramatic element of poetical invention; | at least, it fails him unless when the elements to be | harmonised are very few, as well as very simple. And here | too, the effect of the narrative is in some places injured by | the prominence given to the secondary figures of the main | groups ~~ to the baron, who is avowedly crazed, and to his | daughter and son-in-law, who are too mawkish to appear | with advantage in any other position than that of mutes or | accessories. Yet, as we have said, this series of Byzantine | scenes possesses many excellencies. For the mere novel | reader we are not sure but its bustle and variety and | animation, and the vivid interest which is awakened on the | approach of the catastrophe, may make this to be the most | attractive part of the work. But we must leave all readers to | become acquainted with it for themselves. From us they | shall not learn how fearfully Thiodolf avenged the carrying | away of Isolde; nor how long and disappointingly Isolde | herself eluded his loving search; nor how the heroic | Helmfrid fought, and conquered, and was slain; nor how | Thiodolf vanquished the Bulgarians, and became a mighty | chief in the imperial armies, and how he might have sat | next to the throne, or perhaps on the imperial seat itself, but | how he refused to purchase greatness by feigning love, and | remained faithful to the memory of her who seemed to be | lost to him for ever; nor how the curse pronounced on the | Provencal family was removed; nor how Thiodolf, who had | been true to his love when tempted by ambition, was | true-hearted and noble even when love itself tempted him to | feign religious conviction; and how, after many struggles, | religious truth dawned upon him through conscientious | feeling; and how, at length, atonement, and union, and | happiness, made the whole scene bloom like the garden of | Eden. | We are sorely tempted, however, to extract either the | vigorous picture of the storming of Wladimir's Bulgarian | castle, or that other, equally picturesque, in which (by an | invention clumsy enough) we see the long concealed love | of Isolde for Thiodolf breaking out irresistibly, and | unconsciously furnishing to her unhappy sister the means | of recovering her child, and being reconciled to her father. | Both we cannot give, and neither fully; but a part of the | warlike scene in Bulgaria will vary the character of our | specimens, and convey a favourable impression of | Fouque's skill in passages of warfare. | | | | And here we close our hasty notice of this interesting and | romantic story, heartily recommending it and Fouque's | other works to those who like to become acquainted with | one of the most curious sections in the recent history of | literature.