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The Catholic World, Vol. 13, April to September, 1871

GOTTFRIED VON STRASSBURG'S GREAT HYMN TO THE VIRGIN.

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The period of the German Minnesinger, dating from about the middle of the thirteenth to the middle of the fourteenth century, witnessed probably the intensest and sincerest devotion to the worship of the Virgin Mary in the whole history of the Catholic Church. Intense and sincere pre-eminently, because so expressed in the vast number of paintings and poems in her glorification whereof we have record. That whole period, indeed, was one of fervent religious feeling, stimulated by the Crusades, and naturally choosing the Virgin for the chief object of worship, as the whole knightly spirit of that age was one of devotion to woman. The pure love—for Minne is pure love—of woman has never, in the history of literature, been so exclusively made the topic of poetry as it was during that century of the Minnesinger; it is the absorbing theme of the almost two hundred poets of that time, of whom we have poems handed down to us, and its highest expression was attained in those poems that were addressed to the woman of all women, Mary, the mother of Jesus.

The German language in the thirteenth century had attained a development which fitted it pre-eminently for lyric poetry in all its branches. What it has since gained in other respects it has lost in sweet music of sound. Furthermore, the true laws of rhythm, metre, and verse for modern languages, as distinguished from the rules that governed classic poetry, had been discovered and fixed; rules and laws the knowledge whereof subsequently was lost, and which it gave Goethe so much trouble, as he tells us in his autobiography, to find again. The purity of rhyme has never since in German poetry attained the same degree of perfection, not even under the skilful hand of Rueckert and Platen, which the Minnesinger gave to it; and thus altogether those matters, which constitute the mechanism of poetry, were in fullest bloom.

Now this mechanism and the wonderful language which it operated upon being in the possession and under the full control of such men as were the poets of that day, the result could be only poems of perfect form, and yet at the same time naïve, earnest, intense, and enthusiastic in their character. For those poets were not—like those of our modern poets who have completest control of the mechanism of poetry, as Tennyson, Swinburne, etc.—poets of a cold, reflective bent of mind, but they were simple knights, with great enthusiasm in the cause of the Crusades and of ladies; at the same time gifted with a wondrous power of versification. A considerable number of them, some of the best, as Wolfram von Eschenbach, Ulrich von Lichtenstein, etc., could not even write and read, and had to dictate their poems to their Singerlein, or sing it to him—for these poets invented a melody for each of their poems—which Singerlein again transmitted it in the same manner until, in the course of time, these unwritten Minnelieder were, as much as possible, gathered together by the noble knight, Ruediger von Manasse, his son, and the Minnesinger, Johann Hadlaub, put into manuscript, and thus happily preserved for future generations.

The songs that these Minnesingers sang are of a threefold character: either in praise of the ladies, usually coupled with references to the seasons of the year; or of a didactic character; or, finally, in praise of the Virgin.

Their form is only twofold: either they are lays or songs proper. The song or Minnelied proper has invariably a triplicity of form in each stanza, that is, each stanza has three parts, whereof the first two correspond with each other exactly, whereas the third has an independent, though of course rhythmically connected, flow of its own. The lay, on the contrary, is of irregular construction, and permits the widest rhythmical liberties.

Of the many Minnelieder addressed to the Virgin we have presented to us examples of both kinds, lays and songs. Chief among them are a lay by Walther von der Vogelweide, and the Great Hymn by Gottfried von Strassburg.

The latter is probably the finest of all the Minnelieder—worldly and sacred—of that period. Ranking next to these two there is, however, another poem to the Virgin, not to be classified strictly under the general title of Minnelieder, but still the production of a famous Minnesinger, and withal a poem of wondrous beauty, which for two centuries kept its hold upon the people. This is Konrad von Wuerzburg's Golden Smithy—a poem that is written in the metre of the narrative poem of that age, namely, in lines wherein every line ending in a masculine rhyme has four accentuations and every line ending in a female rhyme has three accentuations, the syllables not being counted—a metre that Coleridge has adopted in his poem Christabel.

In this Golden Smithy the poet represents himself as a goldsmith, working all manner of precious stones and gold into a glorious ornament for the Queen of Heaven, by gathering into his poem all possible images and similes from the world of nature, from sacred and profane history and fable, and from all the virtues and graces of mankind. It is a poem of wonderful splendor, and has a great smoothness of diction. "If," says the poet in the opening of the poem, "in the depth of the smithy of my heart I could melt a poem out of gold and could enamel the gold with the glowing ruby of pure devotion, I would forge a transparent, shining, and sparkling praise of thy worth, thou glorious empress of heaven. Yet, though my speech should fly upward like a noble eagle, the wings of my words could not carry me beyond thy praise; marble and adamant shall be sooner penetrated by a straw, and the diamond by molten lead, than I attain the height of the praise that belongs to thee. Not until all the stars have been counted and the dust of the sun and the sand of the sea and the leaves of the trees, can thy praise be properly sung."

But even this poem is far surpassed in beauty every way by Gottfried von Strassburg's Great Hymn. Indeed, Konrad himself modestly confesses this in his Golden Smithy, when he regrets that he does not "sit upon the green clover bedewed with sweet speech, on which sat worthily Gottfried von Strassburg, who, as a most artistic smith, worked a golden poem, and praised and glorified the Holy Virgin in much better strain."

There is, indeed, a wondrous beauty in this hymn of Gottfried von Strassburg, a beauty much akin to that of his own Strassburg Cathedral, which was begun about the same time.

"It is," says Van der Hagen, "the very glorification of love (Minne) and of Minnesong; it is the heavenly bridal song, the mysterious Solomon's Song, which mirrors its miraculous object in a stream of deep and lovely images, linking them all together into an imperishable wreath; yet even here in its profundity and significance of an artistic and numerously-rhymed construction; always clear as crystal, smooth and graceful."

The poem separates into three parts: in the first whereof the poet exhorts all those who desire to listen to his song of God's great love to endeavor to gain it by unremitting exertion; and furthermore to pray for him, the poet, who has so little striven to attain it for himself. In the second part, the poet calls upon the heavens and Christ to bend down and listen to his truthful lays in praise of Christ's sweet mother. Then in the third part begins the praise of the Virgin, followed by that of her Son, and the poem reaches its supreme fervor when it breaks out finally in praise of God himself. Thence it gradually lowers its tone, and finally expires in a sigh.

I suppose it is impossible to give an adequate idea by translation of the melodious sound of words, the perfect rhythm, and the artistic gradation of effect which this poem has parts of the poem, and so selected as to give a general idea of both the manner and the matter of the poem. The selection opens with the first and ends with the last verses of the whole poem; but the whole itself being composed of ninety-four stanzas, it was necessary to take from in the original. I can say only that I have done my best in the following stanzas, selected from the various the intermediate ones only specimens. The imagery may often seem far-fetched, but it must be remembered that the men of that period likened God and the God-begotten unto everything on earth and in heaven, for the simple reason that they deemed it irreverent and impossible to characterize them by any single predicate or word.

Of the poet himself we know very little. His name indicates him to have been a citizen of Strassburg. His title Meister (master) shows that his station in life was that of a citizen and not of a noble or knight, their title being Herr. He was undoubtedly the foremost poet of his age, and—together with Wolfram von Eschenbach—was then and is still so considered. His greatest work is the narrative poem, Tristan und Isolde; but that he left unfinished. We have no other work of his handed down to us except three or four small Minnesongs.

HYMN TO THE VIRGIN.

Ye, who your life would glorify And float in bliss with God on high, There to dwell nigh His peace and love's salvation; Who fain would learn how to enroll All evils under your control, And rid your soul Of many a sore temptation: Give heed unto this song of love And follow its sweet story; Then will its passing sweetness prove Unto your hearts a peaceful dove, And upward move Your souls to realms of glory. Ye, who would hear what you have ne'er Heard spoken, now incline your ear And listen here To what my tongue unfoldeth. Yea, list to the sweet praise and worth Of her who to God's child gave birth; Wherefore on earth God as in heaven her holdeth. E'en as the air when fresh bedewed Bears fruitful growth, so to man She bears an ever-fruitful mood: Never so chaste and sweet heart's blood, So true and good, Was born by mortal woman. I speak of thee in my best strain: No mother e'er such child may gain, Or child attain So pure a mother ever. He chose what his own nature was; His glorious Godhead chose as case The purest vase Of flesh and bone's endeavor That woman ever to her heart 'Tween earth and heaven gave pressure. In thee lay hidden every part, That ever did from virtue start; Of bliss thou art The sweetest, chosen treasure. Thou gem, thou gold, thou diamond-glow, Thou creamy milk, white ivory, oh! Thou honey-flow In heart and mouth dissolving; Of fruitful virtue a noble grove, The lovely bride of God above— Thou sweet, sweet love, Thou hour with bliss revolving! Of chastity thou whitest snow, A grape of chaste and sure love, A clover-field of true love's glow, Of grace a bottomless ocean's flow: Yea more, I trow: A turtle-dove of pure love. God thee hath clothed with raiments seven, On thy pure body, brought from heaven, Hath put them even When thou wast first created. The first dress Chastity is named, The second is as Virtue famed, The third is claimed And as sweet Courtesy rated. The fourth dress is Humility, The fifth is Mercy's beauty, The sixth one, Faith, clings close to thee, The seventh, humble Modesty, Keepeth thee free To follow simple duty. To worship, Lady, thee doth teach Pray'r to drenched courage and numbed speech, Yea, and fires each Cold heart with heavenly rapture. To worship thee, O Lady! can Teach many an erring, sinful man, How from sin's ban His soul he still may capture. To worship thee is e'en a branch On which the soul's life bloometh; To worship thee makes bold and stanch The weakest soul on sin's hard bench; God it doth wrench From hell and in heaven roometh. Then let both men and women proclaim, And what of mother's womb e'er came, Both wild and tame, The grace of thy devotion. Then praise thee now what living lives, Whatever heaven's dew receives, Runs, floats, or cleaves Through forest or through ocean. Then praise thee now the fair star-shine, The sun and the moon gold-glowing, Then praise thee the four elements thine; Yea, blessedness around thee twine, Thou cheering wine, Thou stream with grace o'erflowing. Rejoice, then, Lady of the skies, Rejoice, thou God-love's paradise, Rejoice, thou prize Of sweetest roses growing! Rejoice, thou blessed maiden, then, Rejoice, that every race and clan, Woman and man, Pray to thy love o'erflowing. Rejoice, that thou with God dost show So many things in common: His yea thy yea, his no thy no; Endless ye mingle in one flow; Small and great, lo! He shares with thee, sweet woman. Now have I praised the mother thine, O sweet, fair Christ and Lord of mine! That honor's shrine Wherein thou wast created. And loud I'll now praise thee, O Lord! Yea, did I not, 'twould check my word; Thy praise has soared, And with all things been mated. Seven hours each day thy praise shall now By me in pray'r be chanted; This well belongs to thee, I trow, For with all virtues thou dost glow; From all grief thou Relief to us hast granted. Thou of so many pure hearts the hold, So many a pure maid's sweetheart bold, All thee enfold With love bright, loud, and yearning. Thou art caressed by many a mood, Caressed by many a heart's warm blood; Thou art so good, So truthful and love-burning. Caressed by all the stars that soar, By moon and sun, thou blessing! Caressed by the great elements four; Oh! ne'er caressed so was afore, Nor will be more, Sweetheart by love's caressing! Yea, thou art named the God of grace, Without whose special power, no phase Of life in space Had ever gained existence. What runneth, climbeth, sneaketh, or striveth, What crawleth, twineth, flieth, or diveth, Yea, all that thriveth In earth and heaven's subsistence: Of all, the life to thee is known, Thou art their food and banner, The lives of all are held alone By thee, O Lord! and on thy throne; Thus is well known Thy grace in every manner. God of thee speaking, God of thee saying, Teareth the heart its passions flaying, And stay waylaying The ever-watchful devil. God of thee speaking, God of thee saying, Much strength and comfort keeps displaying; And hearts thus staying, Are saved from every evil. God of thee speaking, God of thee saying, Is pleasure beyond all pleasure. It moves our hearts, thy grace surveying, To keep with love thy love repaying; O'er all things swaying Thus shines thy love's great treasure. God of thee speaking repentance raises When they, who chant thy wondrous praises, Use lying phrases: So purely thy word gloweth. It suffers less a lying mood Than suffers waves the ocean's flood, So pure and good Its changeless current floweth. God of thee speaking doth attest Pure heart and chaste endeavor, It driveth the devil from our breast. Oh! well I know its soothing rest, It is the zest Of thy vast mercy's flavor. Ah virtue pure, ah purest vase! Ah of chaste eyes thou mirror-glass! Ah diamond-case, With fruitful virtues glowing! Ah festive day to pleasure lent! Ah rapture without discontent! Ah sweet musk-scent! Ah flower gayly blooming! Ah heavenly kingdom where thou art! On earth, in hell, or heaven! Ah cunning o'er all cunning's art! Ah thou, that knoweth every part! Ah sweet Christ's heart! Ah sweetness without leaven! Ah virtue there, ah virtue here! Ah virtue on many a dark and drear Path, far and near! Ah virtue e'er befriending! Ah thou self-conscious purity! Ah goodness, those that cling to thee So many be Their number has no ending. Ah father, mother thou, and son! Ah brother both and sister! Ah strong of faith as Jacob's son! Ah king of earth's and heaven's throne! Ah thou alone Our friend to-day as yester!

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