SPECTATOR'S LIBRARY.

Ficitron, The Burgomaster of Berlin. Translated from the German of W. Alexis. In three

volumes Saunders and Otley.

POETRY.

The Hope that is in us; a Poem Hatchard .

CURRENCY.

Letters to the Right Honourable Francis Thornhill Baring. on the Institution of a Safe and Profitable Paper Currency. By John Welsford Cowell, B.A. of Trinity College, Cambridge Richardson. His-roar.

History of the War in Affghanistan, from its Commencement to i:s Close; including a general Sketch of the Policy and the various circumstances which induced the British Government to interfere in the Affairs of Afighanietan. From the Journal and Letters of an Officer high in rank, and who has served many years in the Indian Army. Edited by Charles Nash, Esq. With an Introductory Description

of the Country, and its Political State previous to the War Brooks,

THE BURGOMASTER OF BERLIN.

THE time of this German novel is about the middle of the fifteenth century ; and the aim of the author is to exhibit the social system of the middle ages at the period when some of the German princes, having subdued the nobles by the aid of the free towns, were inlisting the nobles against the towns to profit by the urban divisions. In The Burgomaster of Berlin the state and character of the burgher population is the main subject ; but, though the manners of the times and the peculiarities of the warlike and self- governing citizens, split into factions and rigorously divided into the castes of patricians and tradesmen, are exhibited at the greatest length, the other classes of the community are not forgotten. The princes and higher nobility are introduced ; the lesser barons, curtailed of their power, sometimes under ban, and turned from feudal levyers of black-mail into robbers, are portrayed at some length ; nor has the author overlooked the Jews and the perse- cutions to which they were subjected, or the superstitious preju- dices against witchcraft, and some of the other correctional prac- tices of the period.

The story of The Burgomaster of Berlin is more ramified than is altogether adapted to English tastes, and is not carried on in a simple and natural manner. The majority of the incidents have some relation, though often a slight one, to a few individuals repre- senting particular classes ; and the actions of the subordinate cha- racters point in their results towards these principal persons. First in rank is the Kur-prince, the Markgraf Frederick ; who is drawn as a stern and politic but righteous ruler, anxious to put down the independent power of nobles and burghers for the esta- blishment of justice and order in his dominion : with him the squab- bling and sturdy citizens, as well as the robber nobles, are brought into immediate contact ; and he slightly advances the fortunes of the lover. Johannes Rathenow, the Burgomaster, is the most prominent and most laboured character in the novel. He is drawn as the beau ideal of an old patrician citizen, in an age when Lord Mayors had to unite the characters of soldier, governor, and. magistrate in one ; tender by nature, and with sufficient comprehension of mind to undergo some "com- punctious visitings" for things he has to do or permit in vir- tue of his office, but holding his town before fortune or life, main- taining things he may not altogether approve of, and standing fast by his "order." Out of these prejudices spring the love-crosses of the story. Elizabeth Rathenow is engaged to the son of a citizen of Koeln, the Southwark of old Berlin, as a match of prudence and family consideration, as well as to unite the heads of the towns. But Henning Mollner, the son of a mere burgess, though wealthy, brave, and one who had rendered the town good service in war, has been brought up by the Burgomaster after the death of his parents, and is deeply attached to Elizabeth. At the opening of the story, the lady's love can scarcely be said to exist ; and she herself, like her father, would have conceived such a marriage impossible. But when public evils produce domestic misery—when exile with other misfortunes overtakes her father, and Henning, banished for ad- mitting the Markgraf into the town, is supposed to be dead, and her father is again recalled as Burgomaster in times of peril to resist the prince for the last time—her passion is developed, and just at the period when her marriage with Melchior is about to take place. How the love-distress and the quarrels of citizens about trifles terminate, must be sought in the volume.

Considered as an historico-antiquarian picture of the age and country, The Burgomaster of Berlin is a work of considerable .nerit. Thy author has studied the features of the subjects he undertakes to depict ; and is not unacquainted with the actual spirit which animated the men or the judgment which philosophy would pass upon it. His composition is not, perhaps, equal to his matter, especially in description. It has, indeed, both force and picture-like effect, and often exhibits spirit ; but it is minute and literal, as if the writer were drawing up an account of places to be identified, rather than describing them ; and reminds the reader of the quaint old pictures of the age, where every thing is indeed distinct and forcible, but hard and stone-like. As this is felt much less in the more strictly novel portions of the work, where the scene or incident possesses a dramatic character in itself or is closely connected with the story, it is probable that the fault originates in a defect of structure, or an injudicious selection and treatment of the matter, rather than in the mere composition. Be- sides the ramified nature of the story we have already alluded to, there is a want of directness in its progress. Much even of that which possesses interest as fiction, has little or no effect upon the fortunes of the principal persons. The city scenes of faction, riot, and politics, though affecting both Rathenow and Henning, and therefore bear- ing upon the catastrophe, are trivial and heavy, not because they concern guilds and citizens, but because they exhibit the mecha- nical and trivial features of those bodies. Taken altogether, how- ever, The Burgomaster of Berlin possesses both matter and in- formation derived from historical study, exhibits a good deal of de- scriptive and dramatic power, and forms a relief to the mass of historical romances, by its novelty of subject and manner.

As an example of the power of ALEXIS in the German style,— of which, however, there are not many instances in the work,—we will take an account which a woman who has just been punished for suspected witchcraft gives to a companion. The subject is horrible; but its horrors are skilfully softened by the simple igno- rance of the parties, and by keeping the physical pain out of view, and bringing the affections forward.

BURYING A WITCH.

" I know this place well, and can tell you something of old times. Do you bear nothing down below, under? When it is quite still, on a summer's night, when the grass is asleep, and the stars have closed their eyes, then you may bear a knocking and sighing : that is my mother. I was only a little child when they killed my mother. The people said she bad red eyes, and did the cattle harm. At every door, when she knocked, they set the dogs at her. She was forced to sleep in the heath, or in the hedges, like a cat. They got sight of my mother once, as the bells of St. Nicholas were ringing, and the tapers burning on the altar, and the priests kneeling before it In velvet and gold. She had a mind to go in like the others, and to taste of the body of the Lord with the others. The burghers and the people murmured. What does that beggar-woman want ? ' and they ramped and cried, She is a Vandal witch.' So the priest was angry, and bade her go forth ; for the Bur- gomaster and the Senators, with their wives and children, were there to take the sacrament, all brushed and combed, in fur and velvet and fine lace ; and it was not right of my mother to go into the church, for she had only rags on her body, and her skin was yellow, and she was unwashen. But she crept in again into a dark corner, close behind a pillar, and no one saw her. It came into my mother's head, ' I am a Christian too, and baptized as they are '; and when the people were all gone, and the priests too, and the doors shut, she crept forward and stole a wafer out of the casket—only for herself, by all the saints, only for herself alone. She did not want to sell it to the godless Jews, that they might cut it and burn it. It was not right of my mother. The wafers burn in a person's body when not given by a priest's band. It was found out, and she was taken and thrown into a dungeon ; and then they made her confess that the wafer burnt in her body, for they would have it so. The Judges and Senators sat on the Long Bridge in judgment, and broke the white staff over her. It cost them much dispute: they could not agree whether she should be burnt. To be sure she should have been burnt, but then the host would be burnt in her body ; so they brought her here before the Spandow door. Then they dug a hole before her eyes, and when it was as deep as a man's height or more, they pushed my mother into it; and the beadle held me by the hand, that I might see it, and take warnifig, as they said. My mother shrieked, and I cried, for I was a child, and did not know what it was to steal wafers; and then they threw the earth in upon her, and she shrieked and wrung her hands, and begged. It would have moved the heart of a stone. I also cried out, and said it would hurt my mother—they should not throw any more earth upon her : but they said, 1 had only to wait, she would soon cease crying; and then she begged so piteously, only for one thing, that they would give her her child that she might kiss it once more. They let it be so; I feel the kiss yet. She could not press me to her; her arms were fast already. And then, and then, they stamped with their feet upon the loose earth, that my mother might not get out again and steal wafent. Do you think the earth did not press on my mother ? They all said it had happened right to her. The Senators said she had experienced mercy, for according to the old sta- tutes a woman might be buried alive for only stealing a coat out of a box, and she had stolen the body of the Lord itself out of Gods home ; and all cried, Amen!"

AFTER AN EVENING-PARTY IN BERLIN IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.

It was not a severe winter-night, but crate cold enough to cool a feverish head. We have already heard that there were no coaches in old Berlin at that time to take the good folks home from a ball. The long, heavy machines which stood in the coach-houses of many, were never used save to transport the rich families on their travels to their farms or country-seats ; and the easy-chairs, borne betwixt two horses, one before and one behind, were very seldom made use of. The streets were too narrow and crooked, and the distances too short ; and indeed, with shoes made suitable, why. should not the tenderest foot reach its destination, even on the dirtiest night in winter ?

We must not, therefore, be surprised to see the maiden Elizabeth taking her way on foot through all the snow and mud : she was too well wrapped in fur to fear the cold. Her aunt Heidicke was her companion; and the two ladies were holding up their dresses, looking out carefully, not for stones in the way, but to avoid the deep mud-holes. A servant, with a light in a case of oiled paper, lighted the way before them,—for at that time there were no lanterns hung with ropes across the streets, as there are now; and behind them came two other servants, one carrying a halberd, the other along sword. They were, therefore, well guided and protected: but the night is no man's friend ; and what must it have been in the middle ages, when so much went on between heaven and earth which nor philosophy nor police any longer tolerate ? The appearances of overhanging houses, with their getters above ornamented with gaping dragon-heads, the creaking of signs and weather- cocks, here and there a stone figure at the corners of streets,—all this together was by no means refreshing to nightly wanderers, particularly when such were women. The party, therefore, made all possible baste; and they entered into no conversation, as one is used to do after being at a ball, except to warn each other now and then of their approach to some treacherous mud-hole. Yet it was not by any means so still to-night as was usual between the mid- night hour and the first cock-crowing : there arose on all sides the noise of parties returning home from the banquet, with quarrels between the watchmen and the drunken and quarrelsome. Besides, there were a few idle people who followed the processions, bearing here and there a worthy gentleman to his home. There was a complete uproar in the street going to the Oderberg door. The Ritter Britzke bad been carried thither, attended by music and six torches : he was so drunk that he could not move a limb ; but his landlord, who was a whitesmith, refused to open the door to let him in ; he was afraid of the crowd. He put his head out of a window, and said that he should have great pleasure

in receiving the Ritter and Town's- Captain; the one who was his lodger,*and who had gone out the evening before, hdi stood upon two legs, whereas the one they brought him now could not go upon four—he therefore did not know him : they had better take him back to the senate-house, or to the watch- house, and then the Senate would let him out in the morning. A sech like this gave great offence to everybody ; for what possible fault could be foupend with the Ritter, who had drunk, like an honest nobleman, in good society, and in honour of his host ? Indeed, the locksmith was rated severely for it the neat day by his companions, and fined; for however the quality folks and the coin-

monalty might quarrel, it was not for one to find fault with another who had only done what was just and honourable. As the ladies turned the corner, they became aware of a moaning as of a person about to die. It proceeded from the venerable Herr Tydecke, who was lying on the threshold of his mansion, and though not able to get up stairs himself, was yet sober enough to refuse to let any one carry him. His friends and connexions were standing round him, lamenting for the poor old man : he, however, raised himself partly up, and said, " They should not mourn for him, but for the town ; for the good old times were gone by, and manners were daily more corrupted." His friends whispered to each other, that it was true enough, for where could they find a young man who could stand as much wine as Herr Tydecke? He had remained sitting the very last of all, like a_prince among his vassals, and no one could perceive that his head was light. Be had been able, too, to walk as far as here, with only two men to support him, never having fallen down till on the very threshold of his own door.

When Henning Mollner is banished the city, he takes service under the Emperor against the Turks; rises to wealth and nobility; and returning home with his followers, falls in with an old Ritter and his daughter, whom he saves from robbers. The incident leads to nothing, but it serves to exhibit some scenes and por- traiture of character. We will take a little example of dramatic dialogue, which arises as they are returning from a hunting-party.

The conversation continued about the carrying on of war, and how that, on the whole, it was now far otherwise than it was when the nobles and the towns had been at variance before. " War, carried on with fire-arms," said the stranger, " is sure to prove what a man is really worth. The little man can outdo the tall man, and himself become great. It does not matter whether a man be taller and stronger than another, but whether be be cleverer and more able to seize and profit by opportunities."

"Whether he be of good blood," put in the Baron. "All are of good blood in war who understand the beat how to cripple an enemy." 'But the nobles are the only ones who know that, because their fathers and fathers' fathers were born to be knights." The stranger laughed : " There have men become generals, Sir, who, if they looked for their ancestors' pedigree, would find it in the beggar's wallet." " No one can have any respect for a low-born man." They get it, notwithstanding. No one could command without having gained that. At present there are many in the Imperial army who lead on to the foe, and would be followed through the fire by their people, who were yet only burgess-born. To be sure, the old families do not much like it ; but the Em- peror, who will have his way, is determined to have good officers." "Anything ie right and good against the Turks," murmured the Baron; "and in the Litany, plague and poverty go side by side. I have heard," he continued, after a pause, "of generals like those in the times of the Bavarians. There was one, I think, called Schweppermann. I cannot understand how a Ritter can serve under a man who is not one. They who wear the spurs have the rule."

" Well, but the Emperor gives them spurs." " A burgess' son ? Impossible 1"

"Makes him kneel before him, and dubs him knight. Then he gives hint a coat-of-arms, and creates him a nobleman."

" How ! by the three holy Kings! can a man make a nobleman oat of one who is not a nobleman ? Can one make a cat into a dog ? or, if you thresh rye, does wheat come oat ?"

" The Emperor does it."

"The Emperor ! " grumbled the younker ; "the Emperor is the Emperor, and not a wizard! Could he make me into a tanner or a weaver ? "

"I cannot tell, noble Sir."

" The world is getting queerer and queerer. To hear tell of such things as that ! But I should just like to see a nobleman of the Emperor's making— one who was not so before."

" Then look at me, and here you see one ! "—and the stranger laughed out : " I am one of the Emperor's make ; for, before that, I was the son of a Berlin burgess!"

The poor Baron was so disconcerted at this, that he could not reply, but stared as if he had seen a spirit : indeed, he had almost made the sign of the cross. But the guest seemed to be in a merrier mood than ever; and told him not to be alarmed, for the burgess blood which he had possessed formerly had been all spilt in the war with the Turks, and as for his skin it had been all cut away by their scimitars, and the Berlin people would never know him again, inasmuch as he went away with a white skin but was returning with a brown one. The Baron had, however, nothing to say ; and he looked like a man palsied, he rode so still and timidly alongside his guest ; and the more embarrassed he appeared, the more improbable to him were the recitals of his companion, of his dining with the Emperor, of how the Emperor drank to him, of how the Princesses and their ladies wove garlands for him, and danced with him.

The younker did not know at all what to think, and it seemed better to him not to think at all.