The Influence of India and Persia on the Poetry of Germany

The poetic spirit of the Orient had been brought into German literature; it was reserved for Rückert and Platen to complete the work by bringing over also the poetic forms.

CHAPTER V.

While the Orient, as we have seen, cast its spell over Germany's greatest poet and inspired the lyric genius of his later years for one of its most remarkable efforts, it remained practically without any influence on his illustrious friend and brother-poet Schiller. If Schiller had lived longer, it is not impossible that he too might have contributed to the West-Eastern literature. As it is, however, he died before the Oriental movement in Germany had really begun. At no time did he feel any particular interest in the East. Once, indeed, he mentions Śakuntalā. Goethe had drawn his attention to a German version of the Gītagōvinda and this reminded Schiller of the famous Hindu drama which he read with the idea of possibly utilizing it for the theatre.116 This idea he abandons owing to the delicacy of the piece and its lack of movement.

An attempt has been made to prove that to Kālidāsa's drama Schiller was indebted for the motive of his "Alpenjäger," but it cannot be said to have been successful.117

Though there was no direct Oriental influence on Schiller's poetry, there is one dramatic poem of his which indirectly goes back to a Persian source. It is Turandot. The direct source for this composition was Gozzi's play of the same name in the translation of August Clemens Werthes, which Schiller, however, used with such freedom that his own play may be regarded as an original production rather than a version. The Italian poet based his fiaba on the story of Prince Kalaf in the Persian tales of Pétis de La Croix.118 Now, as has been pointed out by scholars,119 the name of the heroine, who gives the name to the play, is genuinely Persian, Tūrān-duχt, "the daughter of Tūrān,"120 and although the scene is laid in China, most of the proper names, both in Gozzi and Schiller, are not at all Chinese, but Persian or Arabic. The oldest known model for the story is the fourth romance of Nidāmī's Haft Paīkar, the story of Bahrāmgūr and the Russian princess, written 1197.121 Whether Schiller was aware of the ultimate origin of the legend or not, he certainly made no attempt to give Persian local color to his piece, but on the contrary he studiously tried to impart to it a Chinese atmosphere.122 It is interesting nevertheless to notice that when Turandot was given at Hamburg (July 9 to Sept. 9, 1802) its real provenence was recognized, and, accordingly Turandot was no longer the princess of China, but that of Shīrāz, her father being transformed into the Shāh of Persia and the doctors of the dīvān into Oriental Magi.123 At Dresden the same thing happened, and here even Tartaglia and Brigella, who had been allowed to retain their Italian names in Hamburg, were made to assume the Oriental names of Babouk and Osmin. The specifically Chinese riddles disappeared, and instead of Tien and Fohi, Hormuz was now invoked.124

CHAPTER VI.

We have now come to the period of the foundation of Sanskrit philology in Germany. English statesmanship had completed the material conquest of India; German scholarship now began to join in the spiritual conquest of that country. With this undertaking the names of Friedrich and August Wilhelm Schlegel are prominently identified. The chief work of these brothers lies in the field of philosophy, translation and criticism, and is therefore beyond the scope of this investigation. Suffice it to say that Friedrich's famous little book Die Weisheit der Indier, published in 1808, besides marking the beginning of Sanskrit studies and comparative grammar in Germany,125 is also of interest to us because here for the first time a German version of selections from the Mahābhārata, Rāmāyaṇa and the Code of Manu, as well as a description of some of the most common Sanskrit metres is presented,126 and an attempt is even made to reproduce these metres in the translation. The work of August Wilhelm Schlegel as critic, translator and editor of important works from Sanskrit literature is too familiar to need more than mention.127 It is well known that to his lectures Heine owed his fondness for the lotus-flowers and gazelles on the banks of the Ganges.

On the poetry of the Schlegels their Oriental studies exercised very little influence. Friedrich translated some maxims from the Hitōpadēśa and from Bhartṛhari;128 August likewise translated from the same works, as well as from the Epics and Purāṇas.129 There are only two original poems of his that have anything to do with India, and both of these were written before he had begun the study of Sanskrit. The first is "Die Bestattung des Braminen,"130 a somewhat morbid description of the burning of a corpse. It was addressed to his brother Karl August, who had joined a Hanoverian regiment in the service of the East India Company. The second of these poems is "Neoptolemus an Diokles" (ii. 13), written in 1800, and dedicated to the memory of this same brother who had died at Madras in 1789.131 As a matter of fact, there is really nothing Oriental in the spirit of the poem.

Aside from translations, the only poems that are connected with Schlegel's Sanskrit studies, are the epigrams against his illustrious contemporaries, Bopp and Rückert. Those against the former (ii. 234) are of no special interest here. With those against Rückert, however, the case is different. It is worth while noting that towards the distinguished scholar-poet Schlegel assumed a patronizing attitude. To Rückert's masterly renderings from Sanskrit literature he referred slightingly as "Sanskritpoesiemetriknachahmungen" (ii. 235). But when he hailed the younger poet as

he came much nearer to the truth than he imagined at the time. For, while it will be conceded that Rückert did not always sing with equal power, it also is indisputable that he is the leading spirit in the movement under investigation. But we shall not anticipate a discussion of this poet's work, which is reserved for a succeeding chapter.

CHAPTER VII.

The first to introduce the γazal in its strict form into German literature132 was Rückert, who in 1821 published a version of a number of γazals from the dīvān of Rūmī.133 Chronologically, therefore, he ought to have the precedence in this investigation. If we, nevertheless, take up Platen first, we do so because the γazals of this poet were really the first professedly original poems of this form to appear in Germany (Rückert's claiming to be versions only), and also because they constitute almost the only portion of his poetic work that comes within the sphere of this discussion. Moreover, the remarks which we shall make concerning their content, imagery, and poetic structure, apply largely to the γazals of Rückert and also to his Östliche Rosen, if we except the structure of the latter.

Platen became interested in the East through the work of Hammer, and still more through the influence of Goethe's Divan. He at once set to work studying Persian, and his zeal was increased when, on meeting Rückert in 1820 at Ebern, and again at Nürnberg, he received encouragement and instruction from that scholarly poet. Above all, the appearance of the latter's versions from Rūmī gave him a powerful stimulus, and in 1821 the first series of his Ghaselen appeared at Erlangen. Others followed in rapid succession. The same year a second series appeared at Leipzig;134 a third series, united under the title Spiegel des Hafis, appeared at Erlangen the next year;135 and, lastly, a series called Neue Ghaselen appeared in the same place in 1823. A few γazals arose later, some being published as late as 1836 and 1839.136

We shall confine our discussion to those γazals that date from the years 1821 and 1822, the last series being Persian in nothing but form.

The Ghaselen are not at all translations. Like the Divan-poems they are original creations, inspired by the reading of Hāfiḍ, and, to use the poet's own words "dem Hafis nachgefühlt und nachgedichtet."137 They follow as closely as possible the Persian metrical rules, and make use throughout of Persian images and metaphors, so much so that we can adduce direct parallels from the poems of Hāfiḍ. Thus in 13138 we read: "Schenke! Tulpen sind wie Kelche Weines," evidently a parallel to some such line as H. 541. 1:

"sāqī, come! for the tulip-like goblet is filled with wine." In 75 the words "Weil ihren goldnen Busen doch vor euch verschliesst die Rose" are an echo of H. 300. 2:

"like the rose-bud, how can its inward secret remain concealed?" (cf. also H. 23. 3). And again in 85 "Und nun ... entrinnet dem Herzen das Blut leicht, das sonst mir den Odem benahm" is to be compared with H. 11. 9:

"the sorrowful heart of Hāfiḍ, which through separation from thee is full of blood." Furthermore in 81 we read:

For the first line compare H. 102. 1:

"there is no one who has not been snared by that doubled tress," and for the second line compare H. 470. 1:

"O, thou of whose beauty the sun is the mirror-holder!" In 86 the idea of the young men slain like game by the beauty of the beloved is evidently inspired by H. 358. 6:

"in every nook thine eye has a hundred slain ones fallen like me," and the following lines in the same poem 86:

remind us of H. 561. 7:

Again and again we meet with allusions to the famous image of the love of the nightingale for the rose (35, 75, etc.) so common in Persian poetry, especially in Hāfiḍ. We cite only 318. 1:

"the whole thought of the nightingale is that the rose may be his beloved; the rose has in her thought how she may show grace in her actions." In 302. 1 the nightingale is called عروس گل "the rose's bride."

Besides this, the poems teem with characteristic Persian metaphors: the moth longing for the flame (37, H. 187. 7); the tulip-bed glowing like fire (67, H. 288. 1); the tulip-cheek لاله عذار (whence Moore's Lalla Rookh), لاله رُخ (70, H. 155. 2); the musk-perfumed hair لاله مشکين (73, H. 33. 4); the garden of the face (73, H. 33. 4); the pearl of Aden درٌ عدن (77, H. 197. 10 and 651); wine as a ruby in a golden cup (82, H. 204. 8 ايا پر لعل کرده جام زرٌين "O thou, the golden cup is made full of ruby"); the eye-brows like the crescent-moon (82, H. 470. 5 ابروی همچون هلال "brow like the new moon"); the dust on his love's threshold (83, H. 497. 10 خاک در يار); the sky playing ball with the moon (14, inspired by some such couplet as H. 409. 7); and the verses like pearls (43). For this compare H. 499. 11:

"like a string of lustrous pearls is thy clear verse, O Hāfiḍ." We might multiply such parallels, but those given bear out our statement in regard to the imitation of Persian rhetorical figures on the part of Platen.

In the eagerness to be genuinely Persian, the poet was not content, however, with imitating only what was striking or beautiful; he introduces even some features which, though very prominent in Eastern poetry, will never become congenial to the West. Thus the utter abjectness of the Oriental lover, who puts his face in the path of his beloved and invites her (or him) to scatter dust on his head (H. 148. 3), is presented to us with all possible extravagance in these lines of 87:

To the sāqī is assigned a part almost as prominent as that which is his in the Persian original. It was the introduction of this repulsive trait (e.g. 82) that gave to Heine the opportunity for the savage, scathing onslaught on Platen in the well known passage of the Reisebilder.140

Otherwise Platen, like Goethe, ignores the mystic side of Hāfiḍ, and infuses into his Ghaselen a thoroughly bacchanalian spirit, taking frequent occasion to declaim against hypocrisy, fanaticism and the precepts of the Qurān. The credo of these poems is the opening γazal in Spiegel des Hafis (64), where the line "Wir schwören ew'gen Leichtsinn und ew'ge Trunkenheit" may be taken to reflect the sentiment of the revelling Persian poet, who begs the sūfī not to forbid wine, since from eternity it has been mingled with men's dust (H. 61. 4); who claims to have been predestined to the tavern (H. 20. 4); who asks indulgence if he turns aside from the mosque to the wine-house (H. 213. 4); who drinks his wine to the sound of the harp, feeling sure that God will forgive him (H. 292. 5); who is above the reproach of the boasters of austerity (H. 106. 3); and who, finally, asks that the cup be placed in his coffin so that he may drink from it on the day of resurrection (H. 308. 8). But when Platen flings away the Qurān he certainly is not in accord with his Persian model, for, while Hāfiḍ takes issue with the expounders of the sacred book, he discreetly refrains from assailing the book itself.

But perhaps the chief significance of these Ghaselen, as well as those of Rückert, lies in the fact that they introduced a new poetic form into German literature. It is astonishing to see how completely Platen has mastered this difficult form. The radīf or refrain, so familiar to readers of Hāfiḍ, he reproduces with complete success, as may be seen, for instance, in 8, where the words "du liebst mich nicht" are repeated at the end of each couplet, preceded successively by zerrissen, wissen, beflissen, gewissen, vermissen, Narzissen, exactly in the style of such an ode as H. 100. In those odes called Spiegel des Hafis the name Hafis is even regularly introduced into the last couplet, in accordance with the invariable rule of the Persian γazal that the author's name must appear in the final couplet.

Besides the γazal Platen has also attempted the rubāʻī or quatrain, in which form he wrote twelve poems (Werke, ii. pp. 62-64), and the qasīdah. Of this there is only one specimen, a panegyric (for such in most cases is the Persian qasīdah) on Napoleon, and, as may therefore be imagined, of purely Occidental content.141

Of Platen's translations from Hāfiḍ we need not speak here. But we must call attention to the attempt which he made to translate from Niḍāmī's Iskandar Nāmah in the original mutaqārib-metre. The first eight couplets of the invocation are thus rendered, and in spite of the great difficulty attending the use of this metre in a European language, the rendering must be pronounced fairly successful. It is also faithful, as a comparison with the original shows. We cite the first two couplets from the Persian:

Of other Oriental poems, not translations, we notice "Parsenlied," dating from the year 1819, when Goethe's Divan appeared, and it is quite possible that the Parsi Nameh of that work suggested to Platen the composition of his poem.143 His best known ballad, "Harmosan," written in 1830, has a Persian warrior for its hero. The source for the poem is probably Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (chap. li.)144

CHAPTER VIII.

Like Goethe and Platen, Rückert also owed to Hammer the impulse to Oriental study. His meeting with the famous Orientalist at Vienna, in 1818,145 decided his future career. He at once took up the study of Arabic, Persian and Sanskrit, and with such success that in a few years he became one of the foremost Orientalists in Europe.

The first fruit of these studies were the Gaselen which appeared in the Taschenbuch für Damen, 1821, the first poems of this form in German literature.146 They have been generally regarded as translations from the dīvān of Rūmī, but this is true of only a limited number; and even these were probably not taken directly from the Persian, but from the versions given by Hammer in his Redekünste.147 As a matter of fact, only twenty-eight—less than one-half of the Gaselen,—can be identified with originals in Hammer's book, and a comparison of these with their models shows with what freedom the latter were handled.148 Furthermore in the opening poem, (a version of Red. p. 187, "So lang die Sonne") the last couplet:

is original with Rückert, and clearly shows that he himself did not pretend to offer real translations. The majority of poems are simply original γazals in Rūmī's manner.

These lines, we believe, define very well the attitude which the poet of the West assumed toward his mystic brother in the East.

The series of Ghaselen signed Freimund and dated 1822 (third series in our edition) are not characteristically Persian. Hence we proceed at once to a consideration of the fourth series (p. 253 seq.), which we shall discuss together with the poems collected under the title of Östliche Rosen (p. 289 seq.) from which they differ in nothing but the form. They were, besides, a part of the Östliche Rosen as published originally at Leipzig, 1822.

These poems are free reproductions or variations of Hafizian themes and motives. The spirit of revelry and intoxication finds here a much wilder and more bacchanalian expression than in the Divan of Goethe or the Ghaselen of Platen. Carpe diem is the sum and substance of the philosophy of such poems as "Einladung" (p. 287) and "Lebensgnüge" (p. 293); their note is in thorough accord with Hāfiḍ, when he exclaims (H. 525. 7):

"to me, who worship the beloved, do not mention anything else; for except for her and my cup of wine, I care for none." We are admonished to leave alone idle talk on how and why ("Im Frühlingsthau," p. 261), for as Hāfiḍ says (H. 487. 11): "Our existence is an enigma, whereof the investigation is fraud and fable." The tavern is celebrated with as much enthusiasm (e.g. "Das Weinhaus," p. 290) as the خرابات to which Hāfiḍ was destined by God (H. 492. 1). Monks and preachers are scored mercilessly (e.g. "Der Bussprediger," p. 255; "Dem Prediger," p. 295) as in H. 430. 7: