GERMAN ALMANACKS FOR 1864.

THE Germans had a busy year of it in 1863. What with the constitutional row in Prussia, the movement of the National Verein, the great Schützen Fest at Frankfort, the commemoration of the battle of the nations at Leipzig, the railways must have profited exceedingly, and authors have had plenty of material ready made, without racking their brains. And then, as if this were not enough, before the year was at an end came a second edition, revised and augmented, of the famous Schleswig-Holstein embroglio, which of course will once again end in smoke, but still offer a pleasing excitement while it lasts. We might fairly assume that such materials would prove a boon to the muchenduring almanack readers, and afford them some variety from the Lenten fare on which they have been fed during the last few years, but, unfortunately, it may be laid down as a rule that a German author's dulness increases in an exact ratio with his patriotism. From this our readers will probably conclude that we have nothing very valuable to offer them in our article, and we fear that the judgment will prove correct and to be deplored accordingly: but as it has become a standing rule with us to discuss the contents of the German almanacks (fortunately only once a year), we will not let ourselves be deterred from doing our duty by the prevailing dulness. Let us do our best to be the only sufferers by it, and avoid, as far as possible, the infliction of this dulness at second hand on our readers.

The first almanack we lay our hand on is Glasbrenner's "Komischer Kalendar." We at once notice a sign of the times in the fact that the publishing office has been removed from Hamburg to Vienna. It is true that the author's jokes are not very wonderful, but still sufficient to make the hair of a police magistrate stand on end through their insolence to the powers that be, and this, the only almanack that pokes its fun at constituted authority, has found a home at Vienna. Shade of Metternich, what a falling off was there! It is a cheering thought, however, that the Emperor of Austria really means constitutionalism, and offers so marked a contrast to his Prussian brother. The telegrams of the year in this almanack, which take the place of the old prophecies, commence as follows: Prussia, January 1, one o'clock A.M.: "Most pleasing news: in this year no newspaper has as yet been confiscated." From Madrid, on February 14, we read : "The perfect reconciliation with the Infant Don Juan has excited no special sensation here. It was generally assumed that our queen could not resist a penitent Don Juan." In the same month the news from Berlin is: "Since yesterday evening the Pegasus on the Playhouse has worn a muzzle." From Hesse-Cassel we have the following skit: "Mr. J., a man of hitherto unblemished character, father of a worthy family, was yesterday suddenly invested with an order. Hist family are clinging round him in tears, and the sympathy for the unfor

tunate man is universal." From Münster: "The miraculous corn of St. Ambrosia, which has been displayed here for some time past, has lately proved its virtue in a striking manner. The young housekeeper of Vicar K., who has been supposed to have been suffering from a dropsy for the

last six months, has quite recovered, and is as slim and healthy as before, after a silent retreat, in which she daily touched the sacred corn." Another despatch from Hesse-Cassel: "His highness is suffering again so severely from gout that he is hardly able to trample his people under-foot." From Denmark we read (under the supposition that the late king was still alive) a rather neat and stinging despatch: "Our king is suffering so severely from hypochondria that he is unable to laugh. In consequence the Countess von Danner applied to the Diet and several German courts to request that they would at once issue some energetically threatening notes against Denmark." From Innsbrück we have another slap at the times: "The pious bishop of Brixen excommunicates a Tyrolese glove-maker because he sold gloves made from the skin of a goat which during its lifetime had been tended by a Protestant goat-boy.' From Paris we hear : "The well-known aëronaut, Mr. Gloire, will ascend next week in a large balloon, filled with French sympathy for Poland." Another from the same capital: "Yesterday the emperor fulfilled the empress's frequentlyexpressed desire to hear the celebrated echo in the Hall of the Senators. The exalted couple placed themselves in the centre of the hall, and the emperor shouted, Are not my government and policy good? First rate,' the echo replied." The last joke we shall quote is from Berlin: "Prussia is in a great state of excitement: a recruit at Potsdam had his jacket buttoned askew yesterday."

Among the apophthegms there are but few that bear translation. Here is one not so bad: "The stupid savans have hitherto called Europe a civilised state; it is, on the contrary, a militarised." Another rather neat skit of a pictorial nature consists of two ladies at a masked ball, who, asked by the waiter what they want, reply, "Two glasses of punch-and a gentleman to pay." But we think we have seen this before. Another apophthegm of a more earnest nature contains much truth: "When we see how many men attack each other on account of religion, we can understand that Bedlam is derivable from Bethlehem." Another: "The first place among the élite of society is occupied by the Israelites." Another severe remark is: "We men are all brothers-like Abel and Cain." But the best thing in the whole book is this: "What ancient hero does Garibaldi resemble? Achilles, for both were shot in the heel, and both were wounded by Paris." Or again: "The human race with a black skin seems less destined for serfdom than the one in black coats." The miscellaneous contents of this almanack are heavily amusing as usual, but call for no special comment.

Among the miscellaneous almanacks we must this year decidedly give the first place to Steffens. A great change for the better has been effected in it: the editorship has been entrusted to the well-known littérateur, Dr. Julius Rodenberg, who has brought together a goodly staff of popular and well-known contributors. Max Ring gives us a tremendously patriotic, and therefore slightly wearisome, story about "Theodore Körner's Uniform," and tells us for the thousandth time in print the origin of the "Schwerdt und Leier." He describes the heroic death of the poet and his burial, and we wish to goodness German authors would in future let him lie peacefully in the grave. Rodenberg's own contribution is called the "House on the Moor," and the scene is laid in England. It is written in the sensational style, and gives an

secount of a horrid murder, which might have been effected among us, though we are inclined to doubt the fact. The gem of the almanack, however, is the "Orphans of Malplaquet," by George Hesekiel, in which that most ultra of royalists describes one of the few good actions in the life of Frederick William I. This old gentleman is decidedly becoming rehabilitated since Carlyle so chivalrously undertook his defence, and it has become quite the fashion for German authors to rake up forgotten mecdotes about him. The more the better, say we, if they are all so pleasant as this story of the "Orphans of Malplaquet.' Balduin Mollhausen supplies one of his delightful backwood stories in the "Partang on the Prairie," simple enough, but full of incident and fighting. This class of literature is widely spreading, by the way, in Germany, and is a most pleasing relief after the tomes of twaddle we are compelled, in pursuance of our critical duties, to wade through during the course of the year. Elise Polko gives us a delightful little sketch called "The Rehearsal," in which she brings together young Handel, Leibnitz the philosopher, and the great Electress of Brandenburg. Lastly, we may mention an amusing sketch by Winterfeld, describing the troubles of a travelling actor. Altogether, this almanack will afford amusing reading for everybody, while the usual domestic and social departments are not

neglected.

Auerbach's Almanack is chiefly remarkable this year from the fact that the editor has supplied no contribution of his own. We certainly miss his village stories sadly, but perhaps he acts wisely in sparing his pen for the present, for "Joseph im Schnee" and "Edelweiss" suffered terbly when compared with the "Frau Professorin," and other gems written when Auerbach was in his prime. Moreover, there is always an under-current of democracy in Auerbach's Almanack, which is to be regretted, regard being had to the class of readers for whom it is degned. The almanack opens with a story called "William Tell," by the well-known Moritz Hartmann, but the reader who fancies he is going to have the old story repeated will be mistaken, for it is simply a bitter attack on the Catholic Church, and the story of how a farmer was converted to scepticism by reading Schiller's "Wilhelm Tell." The story is so powerfully told that we deeply regret the animus displayed in it. The unavoidable patriotism will be found in a story called" Anno 13," by Edmund Hoefer, one of the best short story-writers Germany posesses, but even he, with his acknowledged talent, has broken down, so impossible is it to warm up the ashes of the War of Liberation. The Dearest approach te Auerbach's manner will be found in a little tale called "Down the Road," which tells the story of a village fired with a realistic power, hardly to be expected by a disciple of the old master. "The Invisible Spirit-Music," by Ludwig Walesrode, is interesting, as it gives a full account of the Prussian method of punishing political offenders during the bad old times. "A Winter Night on a Locomotive," by Max Maria von Weber, is a terrible account of the sufferings to which engine-drivers and stokers are exposed, and a manly appeal for relief for a much-suffering class. Lastly, we may mention a paper "Cocks and Hens," probably the best in the whole almanack, as it is written by a thorough naturalist, who evidences great love for his subject. We did not believe before that a poultry-yard was invested with so

much poetry, or that human passions and weaknesses were so strangely reproduced among domestic creatures.

Nieritz is excessively dull this year, although it does not do homage to the prevailing patriotism. The nearest approach to the latter will be found in a sketch of the Schleswig-Holstein war in 1848, by Count Baudissin, called "No one can refuse an honourable Kiss;" showing how himself and a comrade disguised themselves as peasant girls and captured an amorous Danish sergeant. The count was one of those German volunteers about whom the Times said such hard though true things t'other day, and, according to his own showing at least, on sundry occasions in type, was a thorough Berserker. Let us hope that he may have no further occasion to show his prowess again in the same wretched cause. "The Road to Wealth," by Ernst Fritze, is an attempt to show that a rich girl ought always to marry a poor young man if she love him, and not listen to the wiser advice of her relatives. Fortunately the story is so weak that it cannot do much mischief. The remaining papers do not call for the slightest comment. We may remark that this almanack has an appendix of socalled comic illustrations, which are borrowed, without acknowledgment, from back volumes of Punch, and spoiled in the process.

How "Gubitz's Volks Kalendar" should have reached its thirty-eighth year is a mystery, which we can only solve by the Teutonic adherence to old customs, and the more than Job-like patience of the nation. The stories are of the namby-pambiest description, and the woodcuts are "beneath the ape," to use an expressive German simile. There is one tremendously long-winded story, called "Village and City," which exposes the perils that environ the young peasant girl who leaves her proper sphere and incurs the perils of a town life; but we fancy we have heard all this before more than once. The only article of any interest in this almanack consists of two letters written by Polyxena Büsching, wife of the wellknown geographical writer, from Petersburg. In one of them she describes an interview with the Empress Catharine, which deserves quotation:

She told me about her youthful years in Stettin, when, as a poor Princess of Anhalt, she lived in a bourgeois house. She was delighted at the order of the Black Eagle, which she received last Christmas from the King of Prussia. While affianced, she went with her mother to Berlin, where she was festally received by Frederick II., who persuaded her into the marriage with the then Prince Peter. At one of these festivals the king even played the flute, and, to so speak, behaved like an Arcadian shepherd, which we can hardly conceive now when we remember his numerous battles. After the thunder of the cannon, the cracking of the muskets, and all the turmoil of war, he will hardly be able to hear the zephyr's flute. The emperor said that the king deserves great respect: it was true that he was the instigator of her awful marriage, but in his sense of justice had procured evidence, by which he knew that she was not guilty of what had happened to her husband in the past year. Any one who wrote about it ought to reflect carefully or let it alone: the Biblical sages or prophets often announced the truth about the future, but modern sages or authors frequently enough revealed falsehoods about the past. She also mentioned about her residence in Berlin, that she had been taken to a shoemaker outside the city wall, who had gained a reputation as soothsayer, and who had really prophesied to her several things that came true; but it was of no importance, for among the variety of things he chattered, a trifle must come true, and what he was to say had doubtless been suggested to him: she considered it her duty to abolish such deception, and hence would give it no place in her head. Whether the assertion

derived from wonderful tables that she would gain great victories over the Turks would come true, she left to the decision of Heaven, for next to the Polish matter, Russia was most cruelly bullied by the unchristian Turks. Now the King of Prussia had offered her an alliance, and she herself intended to render her troops enthusiastic: she would trust to them, and not to foreign mercenaries, and then see whether she could not, by loving attention, gradually soften down the barbarism also. Her son, the grand-duke, is now nine or ten years of age, and, as we hear now and then, is held in strict discipline; but I know nothing certain about this, for I did not hear a syllable about her son from the em press.

Trewendt is another of those almanacks about which it is difficult to say anything either satisfactory or unsatisfactory. The first story, called "The Incendiary," shows very properly how wrong it is to commit arson; but, as we are not aware that there are any Swings among the German peasantry, we do not see that this story will do them any great good. Another story, by Gustav Nieritz, "The Revolver," is curious as an attempt to introduce sensation literature into railway life. At the same time, it gives a rather curious idea of the life which gatekeepers lead in the remoter districts of Germany. Among the anecdotes of this almanack there is one of a practical tendency: "I really cannot see what is the use of shovelling up the snow and carrying it away in carts: the better plan would be to leave the carts standing, and when snowed full drive them off."

We now come to our favourite almanack, "Die Spinnstube," or Spinning-room, by W. O. von Horn, whose motto is evidently" Fear God and honour the king." This almanack, now in its nineteenth year, is carried on in the original plan: the peasants are supposed to assemble in the spinning-room after the day's work is over, and old Smith Jacob tells stories out of his past life for their amusement. It is exactly what a peasants' almanack should be, full of sound sense and moral lessons, and apparently written by a peasant for peasants. The specimen we shall select for illustration of the merits of this almanack throws a glorious light upon a monarch who was bitterly calumniated during his lifetime, but who, despite natural failings, was really a great and good man. is called "A Passage from the Life of Frederick William IV.," and we will do our best in the translation to adhere to the simplicity of the original:

It

The year 1847 (which is still written on many a heart) was a heavy year; for bread was dear, the potatoes were sick, and at the same time the harvest small, and want looked with hollow eyes into the cabin of poverty. At that time many a one starved who was not used to it, and many a father and many a mother thought with bright tears that if early in the morning the children cried for bread, they could give them none! That was indeed a heavy chastisement for many. In the same year the story occurred which I want to tell you.

The want was especially great in Thuringia, Saxony, and thereabouts. About this time the news spread in the town of Stassfurth that in the Cöthen village of Warmsdorf large stores of potatoes were heaped up, and what was the worst, it was said on one side that spirits were going to be made out of them; on the other, that they were still too cheap for people when they grew dearer they would be sold. Just think what opinions were formed about this.