Part 6 (1/2)
Customs related in Herrick's _Going a-Maying_, such as the decoration of the houses of favorites with early greenery and the processions of girls and young men to the woods and fields, were familiar in Germany long before. Exercises to welcome spring became not only a social but even--so far as the rude country songs went--a literary habit. The earlier ritual dance around some altar or symbol of the summer deity grew into an entertainment from which all sense of its original significance had pa.s.sed away. These celebrations became the main social feature of the warm months. At one time partners appear to have been taken for the year (a pa.s.sage in _Wilhelm Meister_ reminds us of this usage), but not in the period before us. A summons to a holiday dance (and the large number of church festivals made holidays frequent) was usually given by a musician playing or singing through the street. The young men and women, and not infrequently their elders, came to the customary field, dressed for the gaiety; as they went along, tossing and catching bright-colored b.a.l.l.s. This favorite ball-playing, mentioned by more than one poet of the age as a sign of spring, and especially entered into by girls, often formed a prelude to the dance. For one thing it gave the girls a way of choosing their partners, for the man who caught the ball tossed by a girl, according to some usages, could claim the right to dance with her. An anonymous poet of the thirteenth century gives a lively picture of one of these scenes.
”All the time the young people are pa.s.sing ball on the street. This is the earliest sport of summer, and as they play they scream. What if the rustic lad gives me a shove?
How rude he is as he darts here and there, flying and chasing and playing tricks with the ball. Then two by two they have a hoppaldy dance about the fiddle, as if they wanted to fly.”
As one of the fellows holds the ball,
”What pretty speeches the girls make him, how they shriek, how wild they get. While he's hesitating to whom he'll throw, they stretch out their hands; now you're my friend (geveterlin),--throw it down here to me ... Jiutelin and Elsemuot hurry after it. Whoever gets it is the best one.
Krumpolt ran, and cried, 'Throw it to me, and I'll throw it back.' In the scrimmage some of the girls get pushed down, and an accident happens to Eppe, the prettiest one in the field. But she picks herself up, and tosses the ball into the air. All scream, 'Catch it! catch it!' No girl can play better than she does; she judges the ball so well, and is such a sure catch.”
Another way of choosing partners was by presenting garlands, and one of the prettiest of the spring customs was the walk to the fields and woods after flowers for wreaths, either to give away or to wear. So one of the Latin songs describes young people going out,--
”Juvenes ut flores accipiant Et se per odores reficiant Virgines a.s.sumant alacriter, Et eant in prata floribus ornata, communiter.”
It certainly is a genial phase of those old times, this out-of-door companions.h.i.+p of lads and la.s.sies, gathering flowers and ”dancing in the chequered shade.” The custom has in a manner survived to our own day; in England, for example, Mr. Thomas Hardy has introduced such scenes very pleasantly in some of his novels, but the zest and universality of it have not descended. Even in Elizabeth's England the hobby-horse was forgot; and back in the thirteenth century the May-time amus.e.m.e.nts were being frowned away. For preachers and moralists saw much evil in these summer gaieties. It is the old story: Nature is such a puritanical stage-manager that she likes to bring on a tragedy for the after-piece to her pleasant comedy, and she is best satisfied when we take warning from the practice and stay away from the play.
The insane frenzies into which meadow dancing was carried on some occasions, especially at the riotous midsummer festival, do not belong to our subject. Neidhart a.s.sumes a flippant tone about matters of conduct, but his treatment of the summer merrymakings is usually innocent and agreeable. He comes as an artist, to the rude material provided in the traditional village songs for these occasions, and transfers to the polished verse of Germany's already highly trained lyrical school, that fresh and gay subject-matter that is so remote from the formal phrases of most of his courtly predecessors. His songs are lyric in their introduction, but almost invariably epic or dramatic in the later stanzas, scarcely ever overstepping closely drawn lines.
Whereas, Walther von der Vogelweide's work in the popular poetry retains the lyrical mood throughout, and is far less realistic, never, I believe, treating a peasant element as such. Those lyrical preludes attest Neidhart's deep sentiment for nature; we feel that, in spite of the conventionality in them. He has the rare merit of an occasional specific note, and he touches even the hackneyed expressions about birds and flowers with a contagious buoyancy. Look at a few of these introductions:
”Hedges green as gold; the heath dressed in bright roses.
Come on, you fine girls: May is in the land. The linden is well hung with rich attire; now hearken, how the nightingale draws near.”
”The time is here: for many a year I have not seen a fairer.
The cold winter is over, and many hearts rejoice that felt its chill. The woods are in leaf. Come then with me to the linden, dear.”
”Summer, a thousand welcomes! Whatever heart was wounded by the long winter is healed, its pain all gone. Thou comest welcome to the world in all lands. Through thee, rich and poor lose their sorrows, when winter has to go.”
And another, which loses its effect if we neglect the long, swinging metre:
The forest for new foliage its grey dress has forsaken; And therefore now full many hearts to pleasure must awaken.
The birds to whom the winter brought dismay, Have never sung so well as now the praises of the May.
The winter from the lovely heath at last has turned aside, And there the blossoms stand, arrayed in colors gaily pied.
Above them May's sweet dews are lightly shed; Ah, how I wish I had a wreath, dear friend, a lady said.
This stanza moves more quickly:
Forth from your houses, children fair!
Out to the street! No wind is there, Sharp wind, cold snow.
The birds were dreary, They're singing cheerily; Forth to the woodland go.
After such opening stanzas comes the action of the song, almost always an expression of a girl's longing to go to the dance, and her mother's unwillingness. The burden of the remonstrances is that of the song in _Much Ado_, ”Men were deceivers ever”; and though some of the conversations are amiable, often the two come to high words, and even to blows. The girl cannot think of going without her best costume, and this, in the prudent old domestic management, was always carefully folded up, and kept under lock and key. ”Who gave you the right to lock up my gown?” a daughter demands. ”You did not spin a thread of it.
Where's the key? now open the room for me.” Finally, she obtained it by stealth. ”She took from the chest the gown that was laid in many small folds. To the knight of Reuenthal she threw her colored ball.” But Neidhart grimly brings in her mother at the close.
Another cries: ”Bring me my fine gown. The gentleman from Reuenthal has sung us a new song. I hear him singing there to the children. I must dance with him at the linden.” Her mother warns her of what happened to her playmate Jiute last year, ”just as her mother said.” But the gentleman had sent her a lovely garland of roses, and had brought her a pair of red stockings from over the Rhine, which she was wearing then; and she had promised to let him teach her the dance. Another song represents two girls talking of the same knight from Reuenthal: ”All know him, and his songs are heard everywhere. He loves me, and to please him I will lace myself trimly, and go.”
Some of the mothers do more than remonstrate: ”The wood is well in leaf, but my mother will not let me go. She has tied my feet with a rope. But all the same, I must go with the children to the linden in the field.”
Her mother overheard and threatened to punish her. ”You little gra.s.shopper, whither wilt thou hop away from the nest? Sit and sew in the sleeve for me.” The girl is impudent, and the poem ends with a lively contest.