A very Merry Christmas And a happy New Year Let's hope it's a good one Without any fear. War is over, If you want it — War is over now.
She said: and thro' the gloomy shades they pass'd, And chose the middle path. Arriv'd at last, The prince with living water sprinkled o'er His limbs and body; then approach'd the door, Possess'd the porch, and on the front above He fix'd the fatal bough requir'd by Pluto's love. These holy rites perform'd, they took their way Where long extended plains of pleasure lay: The verdant fields with those of heav'n may vie, With ether vested, and a purple sky; The blissful seats of happy souls below. Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know; Their airy limbs in sports they exercise, And on the green contend the wrestler's prize. Some in heroic verse divinely sing; Others in artful measures led the ring. The Thracian bard, surrounded by the rest, There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest; His flying fingers, and harmonious quill, Strikes sev'n distinguish'd notes, and sev'n at once they fill. Here found they Teucer's old heroic race, Born better times and happier<b> years to grace. Assaracus and Ilus here enjoy Perpetual fame, with him who founded Troy. The chief beheld their chariots from afar, Their shining arms, and coursers train'd to war: Their lances fix'd in earth, their steeds around, Free from their harness, graze the flow'ry ground. The love of horses which they had, alive, And care of chariots, after death survive. Some cheerful souls were feasting on the plain; Some did the song, and some the choir maintain, Beneath a laurel shade, where mighty Po Mounts up to woods above, and hides his head below. Here patriots live, who, for their country's good, In fighting fields, were prodigal of blood: Priests of unblemish'd lives here make abode, And poets worthy their inspiring god; And searching wits, of more mechanic parts, Who grac'd their age with new-invented arts: Those who to worth their bounty did extend, And those who knew that bounty to commend. The heads of these with holy fillets bound, And all their temples were with garlands crown'd.
JHERING, RUDOLF VON (1818-1892), German jurist, was born on the 22nd of August 1818 at Aurich in East Friesland, where his father practised as a lawyer. Young Jhering entered the university of Heidelberg in 1836 and, after the fashion of German students, visited successively Göttingen and Berlin. G. F. Puchta, the author of _Geschichte des Rechts bei dem römischen Volke_, alone of all his teachers appears to have gained his admiration and influenced the bent of his mind. After graduating _doctor juris_, Jhering established himself in 1844 at Berlin as _privatdocent_ for Roman law, and delivered public lectures on the _Geist des römischen Rechts_, the theme which may be said to have constituted his life's work. In 1845 he became an ordinary professor at Basel, in 1846 at Rostock, in 1849 at Kiel, and in 1851 at Giessen. Upon all these seats of learning he left his mark; beyond any other of his contemporaries he animated the dry bones of Roman law. The German juristic world was still under the dominating influence of the Savigny cult, and the older school looked askance at the daring of the young professor, who essayed to adapt the old to new exigencies and to build up a system of natural jurisprudence. This is the keynote of his famous work, _Geist des römischen Rechts auf den verschiedenen Stufen seiner Entwickelung_ (1852-1865), which for originality of conception and lucidity of scientific reasoning placed its author in the forefront of modern Roman jurists. It is no exaggeration to say that in the second half of the 19th century the reputation of Jhering was as high as that of Savigny in the first. Their methods were almost diametrically opposed. Savigny and his school represented the conservative, historical tendency. In Jhering the philosophical conception of jurisprudence, as a science to be utilized for the further advancement of the moral and social interests of mankind, was predominant. In 1868 Jhering accepted the chair of Roman Law at Vienna, where his lecture-room was crowded, not only with regular students but with men of all professions and even of the highest ranks in the official world. He became one of the lions of society, the Austrian emperor conferring upon him in 1872 a title of hereditary nobility. But to a mind constituted like his, the social functions of the Austrian metropolis became wearisome, and he gladly exchanged its brilliant circles for the repose of Göttingen, where he became professor in 1872. In this year he had read at Vienna before an admiring audience a lecture, published under the title of _Der Kampf um's Recht_ (1872; Eng. trans., _Battle for Right_, 1884). Its success was extraordinary. Within two years it attained twelve editions, and it has been translated into twenty-six languages. This was followed a few years later by _Der Zweck im Recht_ (2 vols., 1877-1883). In these two works is clearly seen Jhering's individuality. The _Kampf um's Recht_ shows the firmness of his character, the strength of his sense of justice, and his juristic method and logic: "to assert his rights is the duty that every responsible person owes to himself." In the _Zweck im Recht_ is perceived the bent of the author's intellect. But perhaps the happiest combination of all his distinctive characteristics is to be found in his _Jurisprudenz des täglichen Lebens_ (1870; Eng. trans., 1904). A great feature of his lectures was his so-called _Praktika_, problems in Roman law, and a collection of these with hints for solution was published as early as 1847 under the title _Civilrechtsfälle ohne Entscheidungen_. In Göttingen he continued to work until his death on the 17th of September 1892. A short time previously he had been the centre of a devoted crowd of friends and former pupils, assembled at Wilhelmshöhe near Cassel to celebrate the jubilee of his doctorate. Almost all countries were worthily represented, and this pilgrimage affords an excellent illustration of the extraordinary fascination and enduring influence that Jhering commanded. In appearance he was of middle stature, his face clean-shaven and of classical mould, lit up with vivacity and beaming with good nature. He was perhaps seen at his best when dispensing hospitality in his own house. With him died the best beloved and the most talented of Roman-law professors of modern times. It was said of him by Professor Adolf Merkel in a memorial address, _R. v. Jhering_ (1893), that he belonged to the happy class of persons to whom Goethe's lines are applicable: "Was ich in der Jugend gewünscht, das habe ich im Alter die Fülle," and this may justly be said of him, though he did not live to complete his _Geist des römischen Rechts_ and his _Rechtsgeschichte_. For this work the span of a single life would have been insufficient, but what he has left to the world is a monument of vigorous intellectual power and stamps Jhering as an original thinker and unrivalled exponent (in his peculiar interpretation) of the spirit of Roman law. Entry: JHERING
Caspar Olevianus was born at Treves in 1536. He gave up law for theology, studied under Calvin in Geneva, Peter Martyr in Zürich, and Beza in Lausanne. Urged by William Farel he preached the new faith in his native city, and when banished therefrom found a home with Frederick of Heidelberg, where he gained high renown as preacher and administrator. His ardour and enthusiasm made him the happy complement of Ursinus. When the reaction came under Louis he was befriended by Ludwig von Sain, prince of Wittgenstein, and John, count of Nassau, in whose city of Herborn he did notable work at the high school until his death on the 15th of March 1587. The elector could have chosen no better men, young as they were, for the task in hand. As a first step each drew up a catechism of his own composition, that of Ursinus being naturally of a more grave and academic turn than the freer production of Olevianus, while each made full use of the earlier catechisms already in use. But when the union was effected it was found that the spirits of the two authors were most happily and harmoniously wedded, the exactness and erudition of the one being blended with the fervency and grace of the other. Thus the Heidelberg Catechism, which was completed within a year of its inception, has an individuality that marks it out from all its predecessors and successors. The Heidelberg synod unanimously approved of it, it was published in January 1563, and in the same year officially turned into Latin by Jos. Lagus and Lambert Pithopoeus. Entry: HEIDELBERG
She sings of the world before the gods were made, of the coming and the meeting of the Aesir, of the origin of the giants, dwarfs and men, of the happy beginning of all things, and the sad ending that shall be in the chaos of Ragnarök. The latter part of the poem is understood to be a kind of necromancy--according to Vigfusson, "the raising of a dead völva"; but the mystical language of the whole, its abrupt transitions and terse condensations, and above all the extinct and mysterious cosmology, an acquaintance with which it presupposes, make the exact interpretation of the _Völuspá_ extremely difficult. The charm and solemn beauty of the style, however, are irresistible, and we are constrained to listen and revere as if we were the auditors of some fugual music devised in honour of a primal and long-buried deity. The melodies of this earliest Icelandic verse, elaborate in their extreme and severe simplicity, are wholly rhythmical and alliterative, and return upon themselves like a solemn incantation. _Hávamál_, the Lesson of the High One, or Odin, follows next; this contains proverbs and wise saws, and a series of stories, some of them comical, told by Odin against himself. The _Vafprúðnismál_, or Lesson of Vafprúðnir, is written in the same mystical vein as _Völuspá_; in it the giant who gives his name to the poem is visited by Odin in disguise, and is questioned by him about the cosmogony and chronology of the Norse religion. _Grimnismál_, or the Sayings of The Hooded One, which is partly in prose, is a story of Odin's imprisonment and torture by King Geirrod. _För Skirnis_, or the Journey of Skirnir, _Harbarðslióð_, or the Lay of Hoarbeard, _Hymiskviða_, or the Song of Hymir, and _Aegisdrekka_, or the Brewing of Aegir, are poems, frequently composed as dialogue, containing legends of the gods, some of which are so ludicrous that it has been suggested that they were intentionally burlesque. _Thrymskviða_, or the Song of Thrym, possesses far more poetic interest; it recounts in language of singular force and directness how Thor lost his hammer, stolen by Thrym the giant, how the latter refused to give it up unless the goddess Freyia was given him in marriage, and how Thor, dressed in women's raiment, personated Freyia, and, slaying Thrym, recovered his hammer. _Alvíssmál_, or the Wisdom of Allwise, is actually a philological exercise under the semblance of a dialogue between Thor and Alvis the dwarf. In _Vegtamskviða_, or the Song of Vegtam, Odin questions a völva with regard to the meaning of the sinister dreams of Balder. _Rígsmál_, or more properly _Rígspula_, records how the god Heimdall, disguised as a man called Rig, wandered by the sea-shore, where he met the original dwarf pair, Ai and Edda, to whom he gave the power of child-bearing, and thence sprung the whole race of thralls; then he went on and met with Afi and Amma, and made them the parents of the race of churls; then he proceeded until he came to Faðir and Moðir, to whom he gave Jarl, the first of free men, whom he himself brought up, teaching him to shoot and snare, and to use the sword and runes. It is much to be lamented that of this most characteristic and picturesque poem we possess only a fragment. In _Hyndluljóð_, the Lay of Hyndla, the goddess Freyia rides to question the völva Hyndla with regard to the ancestry of her young paramour Ottar; a very fine quarrel ensues between the prophetess and her visitor. With this poem, the first or wholly mythological portion of the collection closes. What follows is heroic and pseudo-historic. The _Völundarkviða_, or Song of Völundr, is engaged with the adventures of Völundr, the smith-king, during his stay with Nidud, king of Sweden. Völundr, identical with the Anglo-Saxon Wêland and the German Wieland (O.H.G. _Wiolant_), is sometimes confused with Odin, the master-smith. This poem contains the beautiful figure of Svanhvít, the swan-maiden, who stays seven winters with Völundr, and then, yearning for her fatherland, flies away home through the dark forest. _Helgakviða, Hiörvarðs sonar_, the Song of Helgi, the Son of Hiörvarð, which is largely in prose, celebrates the wooing by Helgi of Svava, who, like Atalanta, ends by loving the man with whom she has fought in battle. Two Songs of Helgi the Hunding's Bane, _Helgakviða Hundingsbana_, open the long and very important series of lays relating to the two heroic families of the Völsungs and the Niblungs. Including the poems just mentioned, there are about twenty distinct pieces in the poetic _Edda_ which deal more or less directly with this chain of stories. It is hardly necessary to give the titles of these poems here in detail, especially as they are, in their present form, manifestly only fragments of a great poetic saga, possibly the earliest coherent form of the story so universal among the Teutonic peoples. We happily possess a somewhat later prose version of this lost poem in the _Völsungasaga_, where the story is completely worked out. In many places the prose of the _Völsungasaga_ follows the verse of the Eddaic fragments with the greatest precision, often making use of the very same expressions. At the same time there are poems in the _Edda_ which the author of the saga does not seem to have seen. But if we compare the central portions of the myth, namely Sigurd's conversation with Fafnir, the death of Regin, the speech of the birds and the meeting with the Valkyrje, we are struck with the extreme fidelity of the prose romancer to his poetic precursors in the _Sigurðarkviða Fafnisbana_; in passing on to the death of Sigurd, we perceive that the version in the _Völsungasaga_ must be based upon a poem now entirely lost. Of the origin of the myth and its independent development in medieval Germany, this is not the place for discussion (see NIBELUNGENLIED). Suffice to say that in no modernized or Germanized form does the legend attain such an exquisite colouring of heroic poetry as in these earliest fragments of Icelandic song. A very curious poem, in some MSS. attributed directly to Saemund, is the Song of the Sun, _Sólarlióð_, which forms a kind of appendix to the poetic _Edda_. In this the spirit of a dead father addresses his living son, and exhorts him, with maxims that resemble those of _Hávamál_, to righteousness of life. The tone of the poem is strangely confused between Christianity and Paganism, and it has been assumed to be the composition of a writer in the act of transition between the old creed and the new. It may, however, not impossibly, be altogether spurious as a poem of great antiquity, and may merely be the production of some Icelandic monk, anxious to imitate the Eddaic form and spirit. Finally _Forspjallsljóð_, or the Preamble, formerly known as the Song of Odin's Raven, is an extremely obscure fragment, of which little is understood, although infinite scholarship has been expended on it. With this the poetic _Edda_ closes. Entry: 2
The poet appears to have attended a dame's school in earliest infancy, but on his mother's death, when he was six years old, he was sent to boarding-school, to a Dr Pitman at Markyate, a village 6 m. from Berkhampstead. From 1738 to 1741 he was placed in the care of an oculist, as he suffered from inflammation of the eyes. In the latter year he was sent to Westminster school, where he had Warren Hastings, Impey, Lloyd, Churchill and Colman for schoolfellows. It was at the Markyate school that he suffered the tyranny that he commemorated in _Tirocinium_. His days at Westminster, Southey thinks, were "probably the happiest in his life," but a boy of nervous temperament is always unhappy at school. At the age of eighteen Cowper entered a solicitor's office in Ely Place, Holborn. Here he had Thurlow, the future lord chancellor, as a fellow-clerk, and it is stated that Thurlow promised to help his less pushful comrade in the days of realized ambition. Three years in Ely Place were rendered happy by frequent visits to his uncle Ashley's house in Southampton Row, where he fell deeply in love with his cousin Theodora Cowper. At twenty-one years of age he took chambers in the Middle Temple, where we first hear of the dejection of spirits that accompanied him periodically through manhood. He was called to the bar in 1754. In 1759 he removed to the Inner Temple and was made a commissioner of bankrupts. His devotion to his cousin, however, was a source of unhappiness. Her father, possibly influenced by Cowper's melancholy tendencies, perhaps possessed by prejudices against the marriage of cousins, interposed, and the lovers were separated--as it turned out for ever. During three years he was a member of the Nonsense Club with his two schoolfellows from Westminster, Churchill and Lloyd, and he wrote sundry verses in magazines and translated two books of Voltaire's _Henriade_. A crisis occurred in Cowper's life when his cousin Major Cowper nominated him to a clerkship in the House of Lords. It involved a preliminary appearance at the bar of the house. The prospect drove him insane, and he attempted suicide; he purchased poison, he placed a penknife at his heart, but hesitated to apply either measure of self-destruction. He has told, in dramatic manner, of his more desperate endeavour to hang himself with a garter. Here he all but succeeded. His friends were informed, and he was sent to a private lunatic asylum at St Albans, where he remained for eighteen months under the charge of Dr Nathaniel Cotton, the author of _Visions_. Upon his recovery he removed to Huntingdon in order to be near his brother John, who was a fellow of St Benet's College, Cambridge. John had visited his brother at St Albans and arranged this. An attempt to secure suitable lodgings nearer to Cambridge had been ineffectual. In June 1765 he reached Huntingdon, and his life here was essentially happy. His illness had broken him off from all his old friends save only his cousin Lady Hesketh, Theodora's sister, but new acquaintances were made, the Unwins being the most valued. This family consisted of Morley Unwin (a clergyman), his wife Mary, and his son (William) and daughter (Susannah). The son struck up a warm friendship which his family shared. Cowper entered the circle as a boarder in November (1765). All went serenely until in July 1767 Morley Unwin was thrown from his horse and killed. A very short time before this event the Unwins had received a visit from the Rev. John Newton (q.v.), the curate of Olney in Buckinghamshire, with whom they became friends. Newton suggested that the widow and her children with Cowper should take up their abode in Olney. This was achieved in the closing months of 1767. Here Cowper was to reside for nineteen years, and he was to render the town and its neighbourhood memorable by his presence and by his poetry. His residence in the Market Place was converted into a Cowper Museum a hundred years after his death, in 1900. Here his life went on its placid course, interrupted only by the death of his brother in 1770, until 1773, when he became again deranged. It can scarcely be doubted that this second attack interrupted the contemplated marriage of Cowper with Mary Unwin, although Southey could find no evidence of the circumstance and Newton was not informed of it. J. C. Bailey brings final evidence of this (_The Poems of Cowper_, page 15). The fact was kept secret in later years in order to spare the feelings of Theodora Cowper, who thought that her cousin had remained as faithful as she had done to their early love. Entry: COWPER