sleep. Then the father drew near and struck him with a rod, saying: "Awake before it is too late ;" but this, too, was of no avail. Thereupon the father took a horn and sounding it loudly in the sleeper's ear, cried out : "Awake at last, you fool!" Still the child slept on. Out of very love the father seized the child by his curly hair and smote him on the cheek; and still he slept. Then, seeing that neither noise nor blows were of use, the father threw a cudgel at him, saying: "Receive this messenger which I send you; though you have Ecidemon for your guide, you have followed the advice of the Lynx that has seduced you into this fatal sleep." And the dam gave way, and the sounding waters rushed in. The explanation, given unhesitatingly and exhaustively by Wolfran, shows that the sleeping child is the sinner, the anxious father, God Most High. The horn sounded in the sleeper's ear, represents "the master clerics," whilst the blows are God's warnings sent either indirectly through the misfortune or the death of friends, or directly through illness. The cudgel thrown as a last resource is death, by which the sinner is driven to repentance if he would escape hell. Ecidemon and the Lynx are respectively the guardian angel and the evil spirit. The lake symbolizes futurity. The winds that blow over it are the days of life, and the bank on which the sinner is sleeping is time. Klingsor's astonishment is great at the unexpected ease with which Wolfran has solved the enigma. He attributes it to supernatural aid, either of an angel or of a spirit of darkness, hinting, however, in no obscure terms, his own suspicions. Nothing daunted by his failure, he is ready with another riddle, that of the King's Daughter, by which is meant man's soul. Wolfran expounds it with such wisdom that Walther von der Vogelweide, who here reappears for a while, bursts into tears of admiration. Then, without a word of warning, Klingsor proposes a third riddle, that of the Lost Sheep; and immediately after this, the rivals alternately describe the wonders and portents of the last day, basing the whole on a revelation made to St. Brandon. After this follow in quick succession the riddles of Solomon's Throne, which symbolizes the Virgin, of the Cross, and of the Creation of Lucifer. So far Wolfran has been content to show his skill and wisdom by solving with ease Klingsor's most intricate enigmas. But now, he turns on his antagonist and assumes the offensive. This he does in the eighth riddle, which refers to the King of the Angles, and which he solves himself, though without any comment that can lead us to suppose that Klingsor has allowed his inability to do so. The ninth riddle also is proposed by Wolfran; it is that of the Huntsman that figures Death. Before

Klingsor can proceed to give the solution, Ofterdingen raises his voice in loud and bitter complaint against him, upbraiding him for the little assistance he has so far rendered, declaring that he will plead his own cause himself, and demanding that Stempel be called in and stand in readiness to execute judgment on the conquered. At the same time, as his former judges have become his opponents, he calls for a new umpire, and himself names the Graf von Kefernberg. He is appeased by Klingsor, who, after having satisfied Wolfran and also explained from whom he has acquired the supernatural knowledge of which he makes no secret, again comes forward with the tenth and last riddle. A Quatre, of which each single Ace has its own special symbol, contains a Tray, but is in its turn contained by the Tray. The Quatre typifies the four gospels, respectively represented by an ox, a lion, an eagle, and a man. These four gospels are, as it were, the foundation on which is built the doctrine of the Trinity, whilst they, on the other hand, derive all their authority from the Trinity.

Klingsor's suspicions, as we have seen, were roused by Wolfran's ready solution of the first enigma. He is now convinced that his adversary is no "layman," but derives his wisdom from the study of Astronomy, by which, of course, is meant Astrology. If Wolfran will not confess that such is the case, the devil Nasion shall be summoned from Toledo, or even from Greece, to wring the truth from him. Confident, however, in the innocence of his knowledge, he dares Klingsor and his spirit to do their worst. Without any indication of a change of scene, Wolfran and Nasion are now the two actors. In the Chronicles we read that it was at night, and when he had retired to the house of Gotschalg with whom he was lodging, that Wolfran was submitted to a final test by the diabolical examiner. Interrogated as to the nature of the firmament, the course of the stars, and the influence of the planets, he is unable to give an answer. In this examination, however, failure is success. The devil, wroth at having been summoned on such a fool's errand, declares that Wolfran is but a "layman" and a "Schnippschnapp," and with his finger he writes this on the stone, that retains the impression as easily as would dough. A sign of the cross made by Wolfran drives the devil away and ends the interview.

In the next section a spirit-one of those who, though fallen from heaven, have not been relegated to the bottomless pit-seems to have been raised by Klingsor. All that he does, however, is to throw down a letter containing a long and sharp tirade against the avarice and simony of the clergy. What is called the fourth part follows this up with an address to two contemporaries, the Bishop

of Cologne and Johann von Zernin, who, it appears, raised their voices like lions against the abuses condemned in the foregoing epistle.

But for Biterolf and the Schreiber, who now re-appear, the fifth division would be still less connected with the preceding parts of the poem. Biterolf, overcome with grief at the death of two princes, the Landgraf of Thüringen and the Graf of Henneberg, from the latter of whom he received his knighthood, wishes to raise his weak voice in a tribute of praise to their virtues. He compares himself to a priest burying his own father-however great his grief, it must not prevent him from performing the holy office. The Schreiber is called upon to join in supplication over the grave of the noble dead. Alternating their prayers, they beg of God that the souls of their princely benefactors may not be condemned to the torments of hell, and that mercy may temper justice. The concluding strophes are taken up with the details of a vision which is supposed to show the fulfilment of their pious wishes.

Biterolf and the Schreiber are now followed by Wolfran and Klingsor, who introduce a string of legends bearing no reference to the long-forgotten question raised in the first part, and having very slight connection with cach other. St. Brandon, the wandering Irishman of legendary fame; the Basiant of Constantinople; Zabulon of Babylon, half a heathen, half a Jew; Aristotle with his familiar Klestronis imprisoned in the ruby of a ring, from which, however, he helps King Tirol to win a game of chess, on the result of which the royal player has staked his head; the magnet-mountain with its sirens, crocodiles, and vultures; the magician Virgil; the dwarf kings Sinnels and Laurin-all these are paraded before the astonished reader, then disappear as suddenly and as unexpectedly as they were called up. Two strophes of undoubted morality, but totally out of place, close the strange medley which literature knows as the War of the Wartburg.

It is apparent, even from the necessarily brief abstract which we have given of it, that the Wartburgkrieg, as it now stands, or rather as editors have compiled it from the various manuscripts or fragments of manuscripts bearing the title, cannot be looked upon as a harmonious and symmetrical whole. In our opinion, it is perfectly safe to dismiss summarily all that follows Wolfran's temptation, or rather examination, by Nasion. That the names of the various personages of the first part recur in the subsequent divisions, that reference is sometimes made to the question originally at issue, and that the metre-either the tone of the noble Lord of Thüringen or

"Klingsor's black tone "-is used in the supposed continuations, these facts can scarcely be of great value as proofs of the authenticity of the unconnected and disjointed fragments which have been clumsily tacked on to the original poem. The first part of the Wartburgkrieg bears a certain resemblance to a class of poems which abound in the poetry of Provence, as well as the north of France, under the name of "tensons or "jeux partis." These, however, were usually the discussion of some point of gallantry, whereas our poem treats of the respective merits of art-loving princes. Furthermore, these alternating poems, if we may give them this name, were usually the productions of several poets-real discussions, and not the words and thoughts of one author placed in the mouth of imaginary characters. That such is the case with our Krieg cannot for a moment be assumed. The mythical and even supernatural minstrels that figure in it preclude any such theory. Out of these "tensons" there arose poems composed by one author, but thrown into the shape of a discussion-we use the term as distinct from mere dialogue. Perhaps better known than any other argumentative poem of this kind is the discussion in which St. Sylvester defends Christianity against the attacks of twelve wise Jews. The machinery of these poems was usually taken from the real combats of the lists. Thus, at the opening of our Krieg, umpires are appointed, and even the Grieszwart-an official corresponding to the clerk of the course in modern contests of another kind—is also mentioned: In one striking and important feature, however, the contest of the Wartburg stands unique. It is the only poem of the kind in which a penalty, and that no less than death, is incurred by the conquered. In reality this is only carrying out the resemblance between the poetical and the physical combat. In the less friendly encounters of knighthood, more particularly in those which were regarded as an appeal to the judgment of God, death was not unfrequently the punishment of defeat. In all poems but the Wartburgkrieg, however, the parallel stops short of the tragical conclusion. It was a bold but a happy idea to carry it out here. It undoubtedly raises the interest in the contest to a far higher pitch, just as the death-penalty attached to the ordeal by battle invested it with greater importance than mere jousts possessed.

As regards the second part of the Wartburgkrieg, that in which the riddles are introduced, it is clear that there interpolators have been busy. The accumulation of enigma upon enigma, and more particularly the introduction of those which Wolfran proposes, are in direct contradiction to the whole plan and spirit of the poem.

Assuming that this second part is really a genuine continuation of the first, it should introduce Klingsor for the purpose of defending Ofterdingen, over whom the penalty of death was left hanging. At the outset it is a suspicious circumstance that the magician's aid does not assume the shape either of a direct defence of Ofterdingen or of a direct proof of the original assertion. Indeed, we are not even given to understand that it is for the purpose of rescuing Ofterdingen that Klingsor proposes the riddle which he defies Wolfran to solve. When, contrary to expectation, the solution is readily given, the hint is at once thrown out that diabolical agency is at work. Yet, in spite of this, riddle follows riddle, and even Klingsor, who does not attempt to conceal his necromancy, is called upon to rede his share. Nine new enigmas are required to confirm the magician's suspicions, and it is only then that the victorious Wolfran is submitted to the final test at the hands of Nasion. All this is in direct opposition to the original conception of the poem. The doubts awakened by the prompt and correct explanation of the first enigma allowed of a second trial; but after that, so far as such a test was concerned, the matter was necessarily at an end. Klingsor was clearly powerless to overcome Wolfran. It needed no further proof on the latter's part to establish that. It was then time to determine whether, indeed, the poet owed his success to his own knowledge or to diabolical help and inspiration. After a second riddle the appearance of Klingsor's familiar was fully warranted and concluded the contest, in so far, at least, as it affected Wolfran. We hold, therefore, that, before proceeding to an examination of the connection between the two parts, it is necessary to set aside eight of the ten riddles, to reduce them to two-the first and any other of the subsequent ones that the manuscripts warrant us in assuming to be connected with it. To enter upon this secondary question would require a discussion of texts and authorities quite beyond our scope. It must suffice to say that the evidence of authenticity is in favour of the last riddle, that of the Gospels and the Trinity.

It is to be feared, however, that neither this pruning down nor any manipulation to which it could be subjected, can give this socalled second part of the Wartburgkrieg even the outward appearance of a natural sequel to the first. There is no denying that, as we have it, the first part is but a fragment. But this difficulty is in no wise met by the addition of the riddles, whether we accept all or only two of them. They do not further the action of the poem. After Nasion's interview with Wolfran matters stand precisely where they stood after Ofterdingen's discomfiture. Nothing that Klingsor has