Read Ebook: The Chautauquan Vol. 04 November 1883 A Monthly Magazine Devoted to the Promotion of True Culture. Organ of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle. by Chautauqua Institution Chautauqua Literary And Scientific Circle Flood Theodore L Editor
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Autumn Sympathy 80 Republican Prospects in France 80 Chautauqua to California 81 To My Books 83 Earthquakes--Ischia and Java 83 Low Spirits 85 Vegetable Villains 86 From the Baltic to the Adriatic 87 Electricity 89 Poachers in England 90 Eight Centuries With Walter Scott 91 The Great Organ at Fribourg 94 Eccentric Americans 95 Etiquette 99 Napoleon's Marshals 100 C. L. S. C. Work 102 C. L. S. C. Stationery 103 New England Branch of the Class of '86 103 C. L. S. C. Testimony 103 C. L. S. C. Reunion 104 Local Circles 105 How to Conduct a Local Circle 107 Questions and Answers 109 Outline of C. L. S. C. Studies 112 Chautauqua Normal Class 112 Editor's Outlook 115 Dr. Haygood's Battle for the Negro 115 The Political Outlook 115 History of Greece 116 A College Reform 116 Editor's Note-Book 117 Editor's Table 119 C. L. S. C. Notes on Required Readings For November 120 C. L. S. C. Notes on Required Readings in "The Chautaquan" 123 Tricks of the Conjurors 125 Talk About Books 126
REQUIRED READING
FOR THE
NOVEMBER.
GERMAN HISTORY.
From the time of Julius Caesar to the fall of the Roman Empire, a period of more than four hundred years, the greater part of the Germans were subject to Roman rule, a rule maintained only by military force. But the struggle against Rome never entirely ceased--and as Roman power gradually declined the Germans seized every opportunity to recover their liberty and in their turn became conquerors. To trace the succession of their vicissitudes during this period would be to give the narrative of a bold, vigorous, war-like people in their rude barbaric condition. We should discover even in those early times those race characteristics of strength, bravery and persistence which became so marked in later centuries; we should recognize in Hermann, the first German leader, the prophecy of the Great Charles who steps upon the scene nearly eight centuries later.
HERMANN, THE FIRST LEADER.
He it was who, with a power to organize equal to that of William of Orange, bound the German tribes in a secret confederacy, whose object it was to resist and repel the Roman armies. While still himself serving as an officer in the Roman army, he managed to rally the confederated Germans and to attack Varus's army of forty thousand men--the best Roman legions--as they were marching through the Teutoburger Forest, where, aided by violent storms, the Germans threw the Romans into panic and the fight was changed to a slaughter. When the news of the great German victory reached Rome the aged Augustus trembled with fear; he let his hair and beard grow for months as a sign of trouble, and was often heard to exclaim: "O, Varus, Varus, give me back my legions." Though Rome, under the able leadership of Germanicus, soon after defeated the Germans, yet she had been taught that the Germans possessed a spirit and a power sufficient to make her tremble for her future supremacy.
Hermann seems to have devoted himself to the creation of a permanent union of the tribes he had commanded. We may guess, but can not assert, that his object was to establish a national organization like that of Rome, and in doing this he must have come into conflict with laws and customs which were considered sacred by the people. But his remaining days were too few for even the beginning of a task which included such an advance in the civilization of the race. We only know that he was waylaid and assassinated by members of his own family in the year 21. He was then 37 years old and had been for thirteen years the leader of his people.
He was undoubtedly the liberator of Germany, having dared to grapple with the Roman power, not in its beginnings, like other kings and commanders, but in the maturity of its strength. He was not always victorious in battle, but in war he was never subdued. He still lives in the songs of the barbarians, unknown to the annals of the Greeks, who only admire that which belongs to themselves--nor celebrated as he deserves by the Romans, who, in praising the olden times, neglect the events of the later years.
GERMAN NATIONALITIES AT THE CLOSE OF THE THIRD CENTURY.
When we meet the Germans at the close of the third century we are surprised to find that the tribal names which they bore in the time of Hermann have nearly all disappeared, and new names of wider significance have taken their places. Instead of thirty to forty petty tribes, they are now consolidated into four chief nationalities with two or three inferior, but independent branches. Their geographical situation is no longer the same, migrations have taken place, large tracts of territory have changed hands, and many leading families have been overthrown and new ones arisen. Nothing but the constant clash of arms could have wrought such change. As each of these new nationalities plays a prominent part in the following centuries, a short description of them is given:
INFLUENCE OF THE ROMANS ON THE GERMANS.
INVASION OF THE HUNS--ATTILA.
The fourth century of our era and the first half of the fifth were characterized by the spirit of migration among all the peoples beyond the Rhine. Representatives of every German village and district went to Rome, and each brought back stories of the wealth and luxury that existed there. They had the keen perception and the strength to recognize the increasing weakness of the government, and also to despise the enervation and corruption of its citizens. The German was ambitious and restless as daily he regarded Rome more and more as his prey. The Romans themselves saw the danger of the Empire and lived in apprehension of overwhelming incursions long before they came. In the latter part of the fourth century the great impulse was given to the people of northern and eastern Europe by successive invasions from Asia; and a vast and general movement began among them which resulted in the disintegration of the Roman Empire, and the transfer of the principal arena of history from the shores of the Mediterranean Sea to the countries in which the great powers of modern Europe afterward grew up. The first impulse to this series of events was given by disturbances and migrations in central Asia, of whose cause hardly anything is known. Long before the Christian era there was a powerful race of Huns in northeastern Asia who became so dangerous to the Chinese that the great wall of China was built as a defense against them .
These Huns, a Mongol race, had migrated from the center of Asia westward three-quarters of a century previously , carrying death and devastation on their path. They had nothing in common with the peoples of the West, either in facial features or habits of life. Contemporary historians describe them as surpassing by their savagery all that can be imagined. They were of low stature, with broad shoulders, thick-set limbs, flat noses, high cheek-bones, small eyes deeply sunk in the sockets, and yellow complexion. Ammianus Marcellinus compares them, in their monstrous ugliness, to beasts walking on two legs, or the grinning heads clumsily carved on the posts of bridges. They had no beard, because from infancy their faces were hideously scarred by being slashed all over, in order to hinder its growth. Accustomed to lead a wandering life in their native country, these wild hordes traversed the Steppes, or boundless plains which lie between Russia and China, in huge chariots, or on small hardy horses, changing their stations as often as fresh pasture was required for their cattle. Except constrained by necessity, they never entered any kind of house, holding them in horror as so many tombs. They were accustomed from infancy to endure cold, hunger, and thirst. As the great boots they wore deprived them of all facility in marching, they never fought on foot; but the skill with which they managed their horses and threw the javelin, made them more formidable to the Germans than even the disciplined, but less ferocious, legions of Rome.
This was the rude race which, bursting into Europe in the second half of the fourth century, shook the whole barbarian world to its center, and precipitated it upon the Roman Empire. The Goths fled before them, when they passed the Danube, the Vandals when they crossed the Rhine. After a halt of half a century in the center of Europe, the Huns put themselves again in motion.
FALL OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE--MANNERS AND MORALS OF THE GERMANS IN THIS AGE.
At the time of the great migrations, the German tribes were barbarians, in that they were destitute alike of humanity toward enemies and inferiors, and of scientific culture. Neither the pursuit of learning nor the practice of mercy to the vanquished could seem to them other than unmanly weakness. Their ferocity spread misery and ruin through the whole arena of history, and made the fifth and sixth centuries of our era the crowning epoch in the annals of human suffering; while their active, passionate contempt for learning destroyed the existing monuments of intelligence and habits of inquiry and thought, almost as completely as they swept away the wealth, prosperity, and social organization of the Roman world. Their ablest kings despised clerical accomplishments. Even Theodoric the Great could not write, and his signature was made by a black smear over a form or mould in which his name was cut. Nevertheless these nations were not what we mean by savages. Their originally beautiful and resonant language was already cultivated in poetical forms, in heroic songs. There was intercourse and trade among the several nations. Minstrels, especially, passed from one royal court to another, and the same song which was sung to Theodoric in Ravenna could be heard and understood by the Vandals in Carthage, by Clovis in Paris, and by the Thuringians in their fastnesses. A common language was a strong bond of union among these nations. Messengers, embassies, and letters were sent to and fro between their courts; gifts were exchanged, and marriages and alliances entered into. Thus the nations were informed concerning one another, and recognized their mutual relationship. It was this international intercourse that gave rise to the heroic minstrelsy--a faithful relation of the great deeds of German heroes during the migrations; but the minstrel boldly transforms the order of events, and brings together things which in reality took place at intervals of whole generations. Thus they sing of Hermanric, of Theodoric the Great , and of his faithful knight Hildebrand; then of the fall of the Burgundian kings, of the far-ruling Attila, and of Sigurd, or Siegfried, who was originally a Northern god of spring, but here appears as a youthful hero, faithful and child-like, simple and unsuspicious, yet the mightiest of all--the complete image of the German character.
These wild times of warfare and wandering could not, of course, favorably affect morals and character. They did much to root out of the minds and lives of the people their ancient heathen faith and practices. Their old gods were associated with places, scenes, features of the country and the climate; and, with these out of sight, the gods themselves were easily forgotten. Moreover, the local deities of other places and nations were brought into notice. The people's religious habits were broken up, their minds confused, and thus they were better prepared than before to embrace the new and universal doctrines of Christianity. But the wanderings had a bad effect on morality in all forms. The upright German was still distinguished by his self-respect from the false, faithless, and cowardly "Welshman," whose nature had become deformed through years of servitude. But Germans, too, were now often guilty of faithlessness and cruelty; and some tribes grew effeminate and corrupt, especially the Vandals in luxurious Africa. They imitated the style of the conquered in dress, arms, and manner of life; and some adopted their language also. For instance, even Theodoric the Great corresponded in Latin with foreign monarchs; and as early as the sixth and seventh centuries, the Germans recorded their own laws in Latin, the West Goths and Burgundians introducing the practice, which was followed by the Franks, Alemanni, Bavarians, and Langobards. These laws, and the prohibitions they contain, are the best sources of information upon the manners of the time, and especially upon the condition of the lower orders, the peasants, and the slaves. The most frequent cases provided are of bodily injuries, murder, wounds, and mutilations, showing that the warlike disposition had degenerated into cruelty and coarseness. For all these injuries, the weregeld, or ransom, was still a satisfaction. The life of a nobleman, that of a freeman, of a slave, and the members of the body--the eye, ear, nose, and hand--were assessed each at a fixed money valuation, to be paid by the aggressor, if he would not expose himself to the vengeance of the wronged man or his family. But crimes committed by peasants and slaves were punished by death, sometimes at the stake, where freemen might escape by paying a fine. The oaths of parties and witnesses were heard; and they were sustained by the oaths of others, their friends, relations, or partisans, who swore that they were to be believed. If an accused party swore that he was innocent, it was only necessary for him to obtain a sufficient number of compurgators, or jurors, of his own rank to swear that they believed him, in order to secure acquittal. But the number required was much larger for men of low rank than for the nobles; and the freedmen and slaves had no rights of the kind, but were tortured at will to compel them to confess or testify. The slaves were often tried by an ordeal, and were held guilty of any accusation if they could not put their hands into boiling water without harm. For freemen, if no other evidence were accessible, a trial by battle was adopted, as an appeal to God's judgment. The heathen tribes in Germany proper--the Frisi, Saxons, Thuringians, and Alemanni--lived on in their old ways; yet they too failed to maintain the spotless character assigned them by Tacitus. It was a time of general ferment. The new elements of civilization had brought with them new vices, and the simplicity of earlier days could not survive.
FOOTNOTES:
Bayard Taylor.
Tacitus.
Bayard Taylor.
Sime.
Lewis.
Sime.
Lewis.
GERMAN LITERATURE.
Among the Germans, as among all other nations, the earliest literature is poetical. Little is preserved of their ancient poetry, but Tacitus tells us that the Germans of his time had ancient songs relating to Tuisco and Mannus, and to the hero Arminius. It is the opinion of many critics that the stories of "Reynard, the Fox," and "Isengrim, the Wolf," may be traced back to these remote times. The legends of the "Nibelungenlied" have many marks of antiquity which would place them in this pre-historic age. The first definite period, however, is:
To this epoch belong the beginnings of prose in German literature. Latin was the speech of scholars, and prose works were almost uniformly in that language. The "Sachenspiegel" and "Schwabenspiegel," two collections of local laws, aroused interest among Germans in their language. The preachers, however, were the chief founders of prose style. Dissatisfied with the abuses and mere forms under which genuine spiritual life was crushed, they strove to awaken new and truer ideas of religion. A Franciscan monk, Berthold, and Eckhart are the two to whom most is due.
Wieland was one of the most prolific of writers. "Oberon" is the most pleasing of his poems to modern readers, and by far most famous. "Agathon" is his best prose romance. Although at first a strong pietist, Wieland eventually became a pronounced epicurean. Lessing, the third of these great poets, is the only writer before Goethe that Germans now read sympathetically. As an imaginative writer he was chiefly distinguished in the drama, and his most important dramatic work is "Minna Von Barnhelm." Superior to his imaginative works were his labors as a thinker. His style ranks with the greatest European writers, and his criticisms are of great value.
In 1781 one of the most important works of German literature was published--Kant's "Kritik der Reinen Vernunft." The philosophical systems of Fichte, Schelling and Hegel followed, and excited even greater interest than the writings of the imaginative writers.
Each of the leading writers of the classical period had numerous followers, but the most important band was that which at first grew up around Goethe--the romantic school. The aim of the school was to revive mediaevalism--to link daily life to poetry. The writer known as the prophet of the school was Frederick von Hardenburg, generally called Novalis. The critical leaders were Wilhelm and Friedrich von Schlegel. Tieck, Nackenroder, Fouqu?, and Schleiermacher were the chief writers.
In imaginative literature the greatest writer of the latest period is Heinrich Heine, whose lyrics have attracted general attention. The novel has acquired the same important place in Germany as in England. Among the chief novelists are Freytag, the Countess Ida Hahn-Hahn, Paul Heyse, Spielhagen and Reuter.
PHYSICAL SCIENCE.
Although air is continually evaporating water from the surface of the earth, and continually restoring it again by condensation, yet, on the whole and in the course of years, there seems to be no sensible gain or loss of water in our seas, lakes, and rivers; so that the two processes of evaporation and condensation balance each other.
It is evident, however, that the moisture precipitated at any moment from the air is not at once evaporated again. The disappearance of the water is due in part to evaporation, but only in part. A great deal of it goes out of sight in other ways.
The rain which falls upon the sea is the largest part of the whole rainfall of the globe, because the surface of the sea is about three times greater than that of the land. All this rain gradually mingles with the salt water, and can then be no longer recognized. It thus helps to make up for the loss which the sea is always suffering by evaporation. For the sea is the great evaporating surface whence most of the vapor of the atmosphere is derived.
On the other hand, the total amount of rain which falls upon the land of the globe must be enormous. It has been estimated, for example, that about sixty-eight cubic miles of water annually descend as rain even upon the surface of the British Isles, and there are many much more rainy regions. If you inquire about this rain which falls upon the land, you will find that it does not at once disappear, but begins another kind of circulation. Watch what happens during a shower of rain. If the shower is heavy, you will notice little runs of muddy water coursing down the streets or roads, or flowing out of the ridges of the fields. Follow one of the runs. It leads into some drain or brook, that into some larger stream, the stream into a river; and the river, if you follow it far enough, will bring you to the sea. Now think of all the brooks and rivers of the world, where this kind of transport of water is going on, and you will at once see how vast must be the part of the rain which flows off the land into the ocean.
But does the whole of the rain flow off at once into the sea in this way? A good deal of the rain which falls upon the land must sink underground and gather there. You may think that surely the water which disappears in that way must be finally withdrawn from the general circulation which we have been tracing. When it sinks below the surface, how can it ever get up to the surface again?
Yet, if you consider for a little, you will be convinced that whatever becomes of it underneath, it can not be lost. If all the rain which sinks into the ground be forever removed from the surface circulation, you will at once see that the quantity of water upon the earth's surface must be constantly and visibly diminishing. But no such changes, so far as can be seen, are really taking place. In spite of the rain which disappears into the ground, the circulation of water between the air, the land, and the sea continues without perceptible diminution.
You are driven to conclude, therefore, that there must be some means whereby the water underground is brought back to the surface. This is done by springs, which gush out of the earth, and bring up water to feed the brooks and rivers, whereby it is borne into the sea. Here, then, are two distinct courses which the rainfall takes--one below ground, and one above. It will be most convenient to follow the underground portion first.
A little attention to the soils and rocks which form the surface of a country is enough to show that they differ greatly from each other in hardness, and in texture or grain. Some are quite loose and porous, others are tough and close-grained. They consequently differ much in the quantity of water they allow to pass through them. A bed of sand, for example, is pervious; that is, will let water sink through it freely, because the little grains of sand lie loosely together, touching each other only at some points, so as to leave empty spaces between. The water readily finds its way among these empty spaces. In fact, the sand-bed may become a kind of sponge, quite saturated with the water which has filtered down from the surface. A bed of clay, on the other hand, is impervious; it is made up of very small particles fitting closely to each other, and therefore offering resistance to the passage of water. Wherever such a bed occurs, it hinders the free passage of the water, which, unable to sink through it from above on the way down, or from below on the way up to the surface again, is kept in by the clay, and forced to find another line of escape.
Sandy soils are dry because the rain at once sinks through them; clay soils are wet because they retain the water, and prevent it from freely descending into the earth.
Now the rocks beneath us, besides being in many cases porous in their texture, such as sandstone, are all more or less traversed with cracks--sometimes mere lines, like those of a cracked window-pane, but sometimes wide and open clefts and tunnels. These numerous channels serve as passages for the underground water. Hence, although a rock may be so hard and close-grained that water does not soak through it at all, yet if that rock is plentifully supplied with these cracks, it may allow a large quantity of water to pass through. Limestone, for example, is a very hard rock, through the grains of which water can make but little way; yet it is so full of cracks or "joints," as they are called, and these joints are often so wide, that they give passage to a great deal of water.
In hilly districts, where the surface of the ground has not been brought under the plow, you will notice that many places are marshy and wet, even when the weather has long been dry. The soil everywhere around has perhaps been baked quite hard by the sun; but these places remain still wet, in spite of the heat. Whence do they get their water? Plainly not directly from the air, for in that case the rest of the ground would also be damp. They get it not from above, but from below. It is oozing out of the ground; and it is this constant outcome of water from below which keeps the ground wet and marshy. In other places you will observe that the water does not merely soak through the ground, but gives rise to a little run of clear water. If you follow such a run up to its source, you will see that it comes gushing out of the ground as a spring.
Springs are the natural outlets for the underground water. But, you ask, why should this water have any outlets, and what makes it rise to the surface?
Let us suppose that a flat layer of some impervious rock, like clay, underlies another layer of a porous material, like sand. The rain which falls on the surface of the ground, and sinks through the upper bed, will be arrested by the lower one, and made either to gather there, or find its escape along the surface of that lower bed. If a hollow or valley should have its bottom below the level of the line along which the water flows, springs will gush out along the sides of the valley. The line of escape may be either the junction between two different kinds of rock, or some of the numerous joints already referred to. Whatever it be, the water can not help flowing onward and downward, as long as there is any passage along which it can find its way; and the rocks underneath are so full of cracks, that it has no difficulty in doing so.
Rain is water nearly in a state of purity. After journeying up and down underground it comes out again in springs, always more or less mingled with other materials, which it gets from the rocks through which it travels. They are not visible to the eye, for they are held in what is called chemical solution. When you put a few grains of salt or sugar upon a plate, and pour water over them, they are dissolved in the water and disappear. They enter into union with the water. You can not see them, but you can still recognize their presence by the taste which they give to the water which holds them in solution. So water, sinking from the soil downward, dissolves a little of the substance of the subterranean rocks, and carries this dissolved material up to the surface of the ground. One of the important ingredients in the air is carbonic acid gas, and this substance is both abstracted from and supplied to the air by plants and animals. In descending through the atmosphere rain absorbs a little air. As ingredients of the air, a little carbonic acid gas, particles of dust and soot, noxious vapors, minute organisms, and other substances floating in the air, are caught up by the descending rain, which in this way washes the air, and tends to keep it much more wholesome than it would otherwise be.
But rain not merely picks up impurities from the air, it gets a large addition when it reaches the soil.
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