THE PEASANTS OF NORTH GERMANY.

Munster, 1878.

HE remains of the old feudal system still exist among the

THE Bauern or peasants-of North Germany. They are divided

into classes, the rich farmers and landowners, called Bauern, and their tenantry or Heuerlinge-hirelings. Of the latter, each family is entitled to a bit of land where they can raise a modest crop and receive in addition a trifling wage from their landlord, but the Bauer is the true lord of the soil, and the obedience yielded him by his hireling is as absolute, in effect, as that paid by his ancestors in serfdom, to their lord, two hundred years ago. When the Bauer summons his people to the fields, to plant or reap, every creature who is able to wield a hoe or drop a seed must answer to the roll, even if it is a mother with a young babe, or, perhaps, a family of babes about her; often this little nursery is committed to the care of some helpless, aged crone whose increasing decrepitude exempts her from the general conscription, or else to a hapless elder sister or brother-itself little more than a babe, but developed into premature gravity and thoughtfulness by the stern environments of its lot. Among these people, as indeed throughout North Germany, the conditions of a woman's life are such as to strike wonder into the breast of an American; and the results are, of course, manifested in every phase of life and manners, in such wise that "he who runs may read." Life in North Germany is a serious thing, individual responsibility a precious unit, and in the economy of this people every child has its moneyed value. There are no halcyon, saturnalian years, wherein personal accountability is a myth and ideal liberty a birthright; responsibility begins with the breath, one may say. To utilize this fragment of humanity as soon as may be, this is the problem, and very soon the ways and means present themselves, and the little faces grow square and set and patient, and the wayward, impassioned impulses of infancy submit themselves to law. Childhood in this land and childhood at home are very different things; and perhaps no apter illustration could be selected to exhibit the contrast between the two peoples as they stand. To decide upon the relative merits or demerits of this system, one must examine it unto its ultimate effects.

But to go back to the peasants. The wealth of the Bauer lies in the produce of his lands, his live stock and his linen; of the latter the treasure is fabulous, and descends, like the crown jewels, from generation to generation. The youngest son is the heir. There are exceptions to this in some districts where the English order of succession obtains; but usually, both among the Bauern and the aristocracy, the youngest son gets the property, the others receiving only a small endowment of money and, in the former case, cattle and chattels. But now comes a curious point of difference from received ideas: if the youngest child of a Bauer happens to be a daughter, she may be made heiress of the Hof (estate). In such case, this girl at once becomes the magnet of a large circle. Every son of a Bauer who has the ill-fortune to occupy a place in the domestic calendar that bars him the inheritance, sinks into a comparatively subordinate position, unless he can wed a girl who has inherited a Hof. Now, if you imagine that where such a one has come to a conclusion in his own mind, as to a suitable object for the reparation of his fortunes, he can go to her and urge his suit in a resolute and downright manner, you are widely mistaken; far other are the usages that constrain this Bauer life. It is not from the lover, but from the lady herself in this case, that the overture must come. The heiress of a Hof enjoys royal privileges; and truly royal is the manner in which the negotiation is conducted. When the young Bäuerinn fixes her regards upon a sweetheart, two intermediaries are requisite to convey the delicate intelligence to its object. If the gentleman should chance to be preoccupied in the matter of his affections, he simply ignores the compliment, and the extremely indirect way in which the invitation has been extended saves maiden pride. But if otherwise, as is usual when the prize of a Hof is in the scale, then a visit of state is made in company with his parents, when a rigid tour of inspection is instituted, of the house and premises of the lady, and an inventory taken of every item of her possessions, from the linen closets to the corn fields, during which her parents vie with one another in exhibiting to the utmost advantage the resources of the estate. This visit, supplemented by a hospitable entertainment, is reciprocated by a similar investigation on the part of the lady and her parents, when the father of the lover declares the endowment that he will make to his son, how much

money, what treasure in linen, household goods and stock; and a careful survey and estimate is made by the other party. But now is the critical moment: the irrepressible instinct of traffic has been fermenting in both their minds. A slight difference arises between the Aeltern, upon the score of an extra calf or sheep, demanded on the one hand, denied upon the other. It is enough; dispute only whets eagerness and hardens resolution; the negotiation is at an end. So frequently does such termination close these gentle overtures, that the peasants have turned their wits upon it and made a proverb thereat; to wit, "He gives up his bride for a wooden spoon."

The dowry of a girl in marriage is a solid item in the peasant's fortune there is no American Quixotism here it is a matter of business, and a portionless girl, be she a very Hebe, goes unwed. This is not confined to the peasants, it is the custom of the country, necessitated, they say, by the conditions of their life, in which small and fixed salaries are the rule in contradistinction to our great commercial enterprises. Throughout the middle class, and among the Bauern, hirelings, and peasants of all conditions, the wife brings her allotted portion to her husband, in money or chattels, and an idea of the importance attached to this feature of the transaction may be gathered from the following anecdote. A stranger inquired of a peasant of the lower order, whose circumstances did not appear very prosperous, what was the secret of the success of a neighbor who had started in life under precisely similar auspices to his own. 'Ha," cried the fellow, with a singular mixture of envy and indignation in his voice-" there's a bit of a rare fortune for you; he may well thrive, the rascal. Mein Gott! has he not got his third wife this very morning, while my old frau sits on there in the corner and can do no better than husten, husten, husten, (cough), the livelong day!"

THEIR SUPERSTITIONS.

The superstitions,—I use the term in its limited application— of the North German Peasants, are no idle theories or traditions; they are active controlling agencies in their social system, and exercise a direct modifying influence upon their lives. The enactment of miracles in this vicinity has recently been forbidden by the

Prussian Government, and the miracles have ceased; but, only a couple of years ago, the Virgin Mary was declared to have appeared, in propria persona, in a tree not many miles from this town, and delivered viva voce instructions to a group of young children, to the effect that they must "pray," and "sin no more." The witnesses to this divine manifestation were the aforesaid children and a young epileptic patient, the ward of a priest, who continued to see the vision and fell into spasms every time she was taken to the tree. Doubtful as such testimony might appear to the incredulous, the incident created a powerful impression upon the community, and pilgrimages were made in such force to the spot that the government interfered to check the contagion. The believers in this miracle were by no means confined to the peasantry. Many educated citizens of the middle class were in deep sympathy with the movement, and a lady of birth and education, a most pious Catholic, assured me, with touching earnestness and sincerity, that the image of the celestial vision still remained upon the tree.

Of the minor superstitions, I can best exemplify their reality to the minds subjected to them, by an incident. Passing the night in the house of a curé of a small parish, who was also a Bauer and master of a Hof, I was awakened at two o'clock in the morning by strange sounds in the household, noises of footsteps hurrying to and fro, whispering voices, and, finally, the stirring and stamping of the cattle in their stalls. Rising and going to my window, I saw a young girl issue noiselessly from the house and run from side to side of the farm yard, crying in low urgent tones to the sleeping fowls on their perches, to the dull pigs in their pens, to the birds, even to the bees, to awake, awake, and ever returning to the dumb creatures until each living thing was aroused and moving in its quarters. It was infinitely spectral to watch her flitting through the deep, soft stillness of the summer morning twilight, calling to the sleeping brutes as if some cornmon bond of sympathy united them. As she came back, I leaned from my window and inquired the cause of this mysterious violation of sleep and night.

"Don't you know?" she cried. "The death has come to the old mother, and when I not wake them all, they also die."

I give her own broken English as a more forcible illustration of the wide spread of these superstitions, that, although educated so

far to be able to translate her ideas into a foreign tongue-for she was sister to the curé-this girl was still the slave of so irrational a conceit. The aged grandmother had passed from sleep to oblivion in the night, and the moment the presence of the dread visitant was known, they sped to break the spell of sleep on every eyelid, that each organism might gird itself and stand en garde against its subtle foe. If they had not been quick to wake them, they assured me, the result would have been disastrous. A neglected calf had been forgotten in a neighboring Hof, on a like occasion in the memory of all, and slumbered calmly on. The luckless brute was dead within the year; true, it had broken a couple of legs first, but what has that to do with it?

The efforts of the government to educate this class are seriously impeded by their own resistance and the coöperation of the priests —who are, of course, now in a state of passive hostility to all its measures. Their opposition is of necessity covert, but none the less efficient on that account. Recently, new laws have been enacted to enforce attendance at the schools. Absence must be satisfactorily accounted for to the Board of Trustees, and, if not properly excused, must be atoned for by fine, or imprisonment of the parent for several days. There is a central council which sits in the country town, and local corporations distributed through the surrounding country; upon these last the priests exercise a direct and formidable influence. A late edict has directed the establishment of gymnasiums, to be incorporated with the various schools,—a step esteemed most important by the government, as the bodily condition of the peasants is such that the subsequent discipline of the drill becomes a torture, and is balked of its best results. But the gymnasium costs something, and, beside, it is an innovation-dread word!-tocsin to ignorance throughout the history of the human race. Both clergy and people opposé it. "I can't say anything," says the rural pastor to the Board, "but you know what to do." And it is done,-i. e., external acquiescence and promises to enforce the measure at once are accorded, and the government agent goes away content; whereupon, the Board calmly folds its hands and waits, temporizes, delays, frames one excuse upon another; and weeks and months go by, and the efficacy of the ordinance, such as it is, is indefinitely postponed, until at length a more stringent order comes and the measure is enforced.