THE EARLY DAYS OF HANS SACHS. 207 tinued in the house of his old teacher many happy months, which were still further devoted to the study of the art of meister singing, then becoming increasingly popular. This happy interval must, however, soon be followed by trouble. Hans Sachs cherished a deep and ardent affection for young Rose, the daughter of Gulden, a rich goldsmith. But her haughty father had determined she should be the bride of a rich counsellor, and showed poor Hans the door in a most humiliating manner. The youth left Nüremberg, and, full of perplexity, entered into a neighbouring forest late in the evening. There new light unexpectedly broke on his path. How often when our troubles seem greatest, help is nearest! How often events, unexpectedly intervening, turn our greatest troubles into our greatest joy? So it was, according to tradition, with our young singer. He had scarcely entered an hour into the dense forest when he heard the rustling of branches, and soon he was met by a tall, dignified, well-dressed man. "I am glad," said the wanderer, in a friendly tone, "that I have met you, for most likely you have come from the good city of Nüremberg, and are well acquainted with these parts. I have strayed away in the woods from my attendants, so I entreat you, both by money and good words, to serve me as my guide to Nüremberg, which I am desirous of reaching to-night wiithout delay." The discontented youth, on grounds easily to be explained, at first refused to comply with the stranger's wish, who nevertheless eagerly pressed him and also desired to know the cause of his dejection. At length Hans, induced by the kind promises of the stranger, who seemed to be a person of rank, consented, to give him all the information he required. He afterwards told the stranger his name, who, having long before heard of him, heartily shook his hand and saluted him as Hans Sachs, the world-renowned master of German song. A hunting party then appeared, and the stranger urged the youth to turn back with him, promising to take him under his powerful protection and to speak for him early to the father of his beloved Rose, whose marriage with the counsellor was to come off the next morning. Hans at once gained fresh courage and peace of mind. He joined the retinue of the distinguished man, who showed him all honour as the famed meister singer. Returning once more to Nüremberg, after a sleepless night of joy and hope, he betook himself very early in the morning to the illustrious stranger, who had proved to be the Emperor Maximilian of Austria. The sumptuously-dressed counsellor entered the chamber of his bride at early morn to present her with a huge bouquet as a token of the approaching festival. But it was all in vain. A few minutes afterwards a splendidly-dressed page appeared and summoned the goldsmith and his beloved and beautiful daughter before the emperor, in whose presence the young poet was already waiting with a palpitating heart. The haughtiness of the goldsmith immediately vanished before the majesty of the Emperor, as may be well supposed; and from this moment it was not at all difficult to gain his consent to the marriage of the two lovers. The poetic fame of the man, the traditional events of whose early life we have thus depicted, is immortalized in the history of German poetry. His poems, some of which are truly noble and beautiful, many of them written in praise of the great work undertaken by Luther; his simple, soul-elevating sacred songs; and, lastly, his pure, stainless life, secured for him an abiding place in the hearts of all Germans, and in the history of German literary culture. He died in his native city, greatly honoured, on the 25th January, 1576, after he had thoroughly identified himself for many years with the interests of the Protestant Reformation. His fertility of invention was marvellous. In 1567 he estimated the number of his poems, short and long, at 6048, and nearly 600 were subsequently added. They were written upon all possible subjectshistory, sacred and profane; fable, classic and Gothic; civic life and domestic; animals, birds, and fishes; and in every style-tragic, comic, didactic, lyric, elegiac, and descriptive. The greater part of them were not designed for the press, but to be used in manuscript, and to be sung on special occasions. When Luther began to preach he warmly welcomed the aid of Hans Sachs, and called him the "Wittenberg Nightingale." A Welsh Association.* "WELL, Ma," said a little girl in giving an account of a sermon, "it was like this; what I could hear I could'nt understand, and what I could understand I couldn't hear." That was exactly my case when visiting a Welsh Association a few years ago. What I could hear I couldn't understand, for it was in Welsh, and what I could understand, viz. English, that I couldn't hear. Nevertheless I heard two sermons at one sitting, it being a common thing in the Principality to have two sermons in succession on such occasions. It is not uncommon to have some of the services in the open air, the preachers taking their stand upon a covered platform with tiers of seats rising behind them, and crowds of people in the field before them. When held in the country where the spot was romantic, the ground rising in front so as to form a natural gallery, with the woods on either hand in all their summer beauty, with nothing to disturb the preacher save the song of birds, the rustle of leaves, and the distant murmur of the brook, the scene was one to be remembered, and the sermons preached on such occasions are among the most stirring memories in the hearts of the Welsh Christians. As might be expected these annual gatherings create no little stir in the country districts where they take place. Those who are expecting guests take care to have everything in apple-pie order. Without, the cottage will be white-washed; within, the furniture will be beeswaxed, the hearthstone will be adorned with a special ornamentation in chalk, the larder will be well-stocked, and bakestone and oven will be called upon to supply their very best. I have to acknowledge indebtedness throughout this paper to "Echoes from the Welsh Hills,' by Rev. David Davies. A WELSH ASSOCIATION. 209 The day has arrived. The people are pouring in for the ten o'clock morning service, some on foot, some on horseback, and others in every imaginable kind of conveyance. Here comes an antique affair, which looks as if it had been taken in in numbers and never properly bound. The horse to match. "Rather a shaky concern that," says one of the villagers. "Yes," says another, "it reminds one of the story of STAMMERING JOHN'S CART. "What story is that?" asks another. "Why only that John was once summoned for not putting a name on his cart, as the law required. So the worthy magistrate asked him why he had omitted to put his name on the conveyance. John stuttered, 'Who-o-o--se name shall I put on it?' 'Why, yours, of course,' replied the magistrate. 'B-b-b-but it isn't my cart, your worship,' said John. 'Who's the owner, then?' asked the magistrate impatiently. Ah, th-th-th-that's the difficulty, Sir,' said John. The old sh-sh-shafts belong to David Thomas. The wh-whwheels belong to Hugh Jones, the old axle b-b-belongs to William Bowen, the t-t-tub belongs t-t-to Joshua Morgan, the t-t-tail-board b-b-belongs to Rees Davies, and only the old nag belongs to me. Who-o-o-se name shall I put on, Sir?'" 6 "I shouldn't wonder," interposed another, "but some of the sermons at this Association will be like John's cart. The shafts will belong to Mathew Henry, the wheels to Dr. Lewis, the axle to Dr. Jenkins, the tub to Robert Ellis, the tail-board to Albert Barnes, and only the old nag will belong to the preacher." It is a peculiarity of Welsh oratory that it deals extensively with nature. Away among the hills the people are not versed in the arts and sciences, but nature speaks to them as she does not to dwellers in large towns and cities. The ruggedness of the hills, the wild grandeur of the mountains, the sublimity of their cloud-capped towers, the beauty of the lakes and valleys, the roar and rush of the waterfalls, and the terrible majesty of the storms, all have their effect upon both hearer and preacher. THE FIRST ASSOCIATION SERMON. This was seen especially in the younger of the two preachers on one of these occasions. Kept awake by a violent storm on the preceding night, an old text flashed upon his mind with the vividness of the lightning. He thought the Lord was in the wind. He recalled the language of Habakkuk. "Was the Lord displeased against the rivers? was Thine anger against the rivers? was Thy wrath against the sea ?" and he determined to announce for his text the remainder of the passage, "Thou didst ride upon Thine horses and Thy chariots of salvation." He began by saying that God is sometimes represented as "sitting," sometimes as "walking," but in the text as "riding." He then spoke of the activity of the Almighty in His universe. He said, "Creation is full of activity. The rivers flow to the ocean, and the ocean ever rolls restlessly upon its rugged bed. The sun, like a giant, daily runs his race, and the gentle moon month by month pursues her rounds of nightly service. The planets move in their orbits, the stars glide on at infinite distances, and the comets ever sweep in their erratic courses through the sky. Mind is active, and matter is ever at work. Angels are ever on the wing, and seraphim are constantly engaged in their service of holy adoration before the throne. The whole universe is full of activity, from the smallest atom to the sweeping planet, from the little babe to the princely archangel in the presence of God. But all the activities displayed in the creation are but a faint symbol of the unlimited and ceaseless movements of the Creator. They are but bubbles on the rushing torrent of His onward sweep, spray from the august cataracts of His operations, wavelets upon the fathomless ocean of His activity." He went on to point out that "God works in His vast creation by instrumentalities." "Horses and chariots." His voice gathering in force and in variety of modulation as he went along, he ended by showing that God comes to this world on a message of salvation. Giving a concluding turn to his theme, he said, speaking of the chariots of salvation, "These are they which in all ages have borne the martyrs and saints of God to the skies. One of them was sent to take to the realms of light the seraphic Christmas Evans, who was heard to exclaim to the charioteer as they entered the dark valley of the shadow of death, 'Drive on,' ' Drive on,' as if in haste to reach the palace of his King and the home of his God." The "Ie!" "Ie!" (yes! yes!) which greeted the earlier utterances, gave place to the "Bendigedig" (Bless the Lord) as the preacher (Rev. B. Thomas, of Narberth) waxed warm with his theme, and he sat down amid still higher ejaculations, the people shouting, "Gogoniant" (glory). Very different was the sermon that followed, on the subject of the "two blind men sitting by the way side;" but the second preacher, like the first, caught the "hwyl," and bore his congregation on to "Bendigedig," "Gogoniant," and "Hallelujah." A PLATFORM ANECDOTE. Not a few Welsh preachers were as powerful on the platform as in the pulpit. The Rev. D. Stephens, of Glantaff, was one of this class. Speaking at a meeting held in connection with a large presentation of books to Mr. Oliver, of Pontypridd, he amused the audience by a droll story just to the point. "There was an old man," said he, "who lived in the neighbourhood of Capel Isaac who used to haul coal. He and his wife had lived very comfortably together for many years. But one day, as he was hauling coal, he saw Lady Dynevor driving by in her carriage. He was greatly impressed by her exceptional beauty. When he returned home his wife was delighted to see him, but he appeared very disconsolate and would not speak a word. 'Jack, dear,' said she, 'why don't you say a word to your wife?' 'Wife, indeed! It's Lord Dynevor that has a wife,' said Jack, at the same time lifting up his walking stick. 'I shall do the same thing,' said Mr. Stephens, 'with my library when I go home. I shall lift up my stick before my own books, and say, 'Library, indeed! It's Mr. Oliver, of Pontypridd, that has a library.' A WELSH ASSOCIATION. JOHN ELIAS AND THE MARQUIS OF ANGLESEA. 211 John Elias is another of the names of which Welshmen are justly proud. His mesmeric oratory produced wonderful effects. At a meeting of the Bible Society, presided over by the Marquis of Anglesea, whose statue had just been erected on the summit of Craig-y-Dinas to commemorate his leadership of the British cavalry in Spain, and especially his brilliant service at Waterloo, where he lost an arm, John Elias was called. He described the moral condition of the country as one of war between light and darkness, between Christ and the Devil -a conflict like that at Waterloo, on whose issue depended the happiness of the world. Picturing, in the language of the Book of Job, the steed on which the gallant Marquis led his men to victory-victory which cost him the loss of an arm, when it might have cost his lifethe speaker saw therein the hand of Providence sparing him to occupy the chair at that meeting, sparing him, as he said, " to lead an army that shall carry the Word of Life to every country, tongue, and people, and nation over the face of the whole earth. The climax came when the speaker shouted in powerful yet pathetic tones, "What see we now? The enemy is bound (alluding to Napoleon), but the Word of God is not bound." The effect upon the audience was marvellous. The chairman did not understand Welsh, but when the speaker's reference was explained to him, the heart of the noble Marquis failed him. He could brave, with eye of steel, the flash of sabres and the war of cannon, but that touching allusion to himself, which so swayed the people, melted him into tenderness. He wept like a child. SPRINKLING A BABY. The mention of John Elias recalls one of those stories which Baptists are always pleased to hear. Taking an infant in his arms for the purpose of christening it, an old Welsh Methodist was moved to address a few words of pathetic advice to the young parents. "See," said he, "that you train up the child in the way that he should go, that you surround him with the best influences, and that you give him a good example. If you do so, who knows but that he may become a Christmas Evans, or a John Elias. What is the name of the child ?" "Jane, sir,” replied the mother. The effect of that announcement may be better imagined than described. J. FLETCHER. Who Lives for Truth shall never Die.” WHO lives for truth shall never die, But strong as truth shall be; Must falsehood ever flee; Who lives for truth, truth will not lose, For truth will hold her own; The seeds of joy and victory For such by truth are sown; And all who 'neath truth's banner fall W. P. BALFERN. |