In Nos. 94 to 97 (1763) of the same magazine, Raspe gave a translation of extracts, ‘disjecta membra Hippolyti,’ from the six books of Fingal in rhythmic prose. The portions omitted are briefly summarized. The translation possesses no special merits and we can pass over at once to the first translations that appeared in book form, that of the Fragments by Engelbrecht (1764), and that of Fingal by Wittenberg (1764), both of which appeared anonymously and both in rhythmic prose. Neither of these translations met with a particularly flattering reception; the magazines seem to have taken no notice of them whatever, the editions were probably limited, and we have no record of a second edition in either case. Wittenberg, indeed, intended to publish two additional volumes, the second to contain Temora with several smaller poems and the third the remaining fragments, together with Dr. Blair’s “Dissertation,” but his plans bore no fruit. Wittenberg was no great literary light and would have been forgotten long ago had he not been mixed up in the Lessing–Goeze controversy.[36] In his preface he tells us that he took pains to make the translation as literal as possible—quite a wise proceeding for one who had no hope of improving upon the original and no ability to turn Macpherson’s prose into respectable verse. When he remarks in the preface that the poems of Ossian are, even thus early, too well known among the Germans to call for further commendation to the reader, we may see how quickly Ossian had found a place in the public favor. However, Wittenberg can not abstain from recording his appreciation, and takes up the cudgels in defense of the authenticity.

Engelbrecht, the translator of the Fragments, was a merchant and by way of avocation a literary dilettante. He began to translate the fragments partly in prose and partly in verses without rime, but business interfered with the continuation of the work and when he again took it up, he cast aside the poetic portion and translated in rhythmic prose from the first edition of Fingal (1761). He intended originally to publish a translation of the epic Fingal as well, but abstained, because Wittenberg anticipated him.[37]

In the year after the appearance of the two translations just discussed (1765), a reprint of the Mémoire sur les Poëmes de Macpherson mentioned above (p. 5) was published in Cologne, and a partial translation of the same article appeared in the Hamburgische Unterhaltungen the following year. Little attention was paid in Germany to the attempt to transport Ossian and his heroes to Ireland. The translator might have foreseen that an article of this nature would be apt to be received with disdain. Gerstenberg, to be sure, believed in the article,[38] but then he had had his doubts from the very first. Yet he was the exception, and the view of the general public is better illustrated by a sentence in the review of Fingal from the Göttingische gelehrte Anzeigen (1765), where the critic writes: “We must at the outset reject the suspicion expressed in certain French monthlies, which declare these poems to be the work of the publisher and consequently a forgery. In a hundred places do we find proof that refutes this suspicion.”[39] In the same review Ossian is characterized as less loquacious than Homer, and in a review of the Works of Ossian (London, 1765) in the same magazine (1767), the critic remarks how infinitely superior the character of the Gaels is to that of Homer’s heroes: “Ossian’s heroes are throughout far more generous, more modest and more kind than Homer’s robbers, who are sublime solely in virtue of their strength.”[40] And again: “Ossian’s soul felt infinitely more, his code of morals was better, he knew the human heart in its more delicate emotions; and, what might not be expected from a Highlander, he was infinitely more tender in love and had a greater partiality for women than the Greek.”[41] Macpherson’s peculiar prose did not fail to impress the reviewer, who saw in it a mixture “made up of the Holy Scriptures, of Homer and of the speeches of the Iroquois, yet nevertheless possessing something of its own.”[42] Verily a strange combination that could not fail to be effective. However, carried away as the average reviewer was by the beauty inherent in the poems, by the noble, almost sublime character of the old Gaelic heroes, and by the grandiloquent language in which the poems were couched, they were not always entirely blind to the cardinal defects of the work, and we must give the reviewer credit for his candor when he says: “To be sure, the comparisons are too frequent and the style somewhat too monotonous.”[43] This was no small admission to make in regard to a poet greater even than Homer, and so in the second review a reason for this defect is given in palliation. “Ossian lived,” we read, “in a different clime, where nature does not possess half the beauty of the Greek.... It is therefore easy to see that Ossian, whose wealth of comparison is altogether too great, is forced to become monotonous as far as these and his descriptions of scenery are concerned.”[44]

We have seen that the first notice of Ossian appeared in the Bibliothek der schönen Wissenschaften, and for a number of years this magazine assumed the leading rôle in Ossianic criticisms and discussions. Several notices appeared in the first three volumes of the Neue Bibliothek. In Vol. 1 (1766) we have a notice of Cesarotti’s Italian translation. The reviewer expresses his astonishment that the Abbé has dared to render the translation in verse, a criticism that Denis was soon to call down upon his head in still greater measure. In Vol. 2 (1766) appeared a most sympathetic review of the Works of Ossian by Christian Felix Weisse, who had been editor of the Bibliothek since 1759. Weisse took a lifelong interest in Ossian, a fact that is attested not only by his reviews, but also by his translations of John Macpherson’s Critical Dissertations ... (1770), and of Smith’s Gaelic Antiquities (1781). In his review he feels called upon to defend the authenticity of the poems against the attacks of English and French scholars, particularly against the article in the Journal des Sçavans; he does not mention a single German scholar, which goes far to show with what unanimity Ossian was accepted when he first made his appearance. Weisse’s review is taken up principally with an extensive résumé of Dr. Blair’s “Dissertation,” prefixed to the edition under discussion. The comparison of Homer and Ossian receives a due share of consideration. The notice is concluded in Vol. 3 (1766), where the plan and character of the two epics Fingal and Temora are given, together with several specimens from the poems in German prose. And then Ossian is proclaimed a poetic genius.[45] “If strong feeling and natural description are the two chief ingredients of a poetic genius, we must confess that Ossian possesses a large amount of genius. The question is not whether there are mistakes in his poems ... but has he the spirit, the fire, the inspiration of a poet? Does he speak the speech of nature? Does he elevate by his feelings? Does he interest by his descriptions? Does he depict for the heart as well as for the imagination? Does he cause his readers to glow, to tremble, to weep? These are the great characteristics of true poetry.”[46] And these grand characteristics of true poetry, as laid down by Weisse, Ossian certainly possessed. The form in which the poems came out approached closely to what was then regarded as constituting the language of nature. His sentiments were surely ennobling. His descriptions, while their monotony would soon tire a reader of to–day, interested and charmed by reason of their novelty, and while sufficient play was left for the imagination, no one could complain of failure to touch the heart; and lastly, if an author was to be judged by his ability to cause his readers to glow, tremble, and weep, was it strange that a high rank was assigned to a poet whose heroes and heroines spent a goodly portion of their time in doing the one or the other, especially the last? Tears play a most important part in the economy of Ossian’s poems, and we need not wonder that the sentimental youth and maiden of the day were so fond of him. And so Weisse needed no external proof to convince him of the genuineness of the poems; their character was proof sufficient to him. It would have been difficult for him—and in this respect he represents a numerous body—to reconcile the spuriousness of the songs with the undeniable effect they produced.

Before closing this discussion of the earliest notices and translations, we must mention two further translations that appeared prior to the publication of Denis’s hexameter version in 1768–9. The one is a translation of the Fragments that appeared anonymously in 1766. It was originally published in the Neues Bremisches Magazin and then printed separately as Fragmente der alten Dichtkunst. The translation evoked little attention and soon passed into oblivion. To the second translation fate was more kind. It was a poetic rendering of two extracts from “The Songs of Selma.” They appeared anonymously in Vol. 4 of the Unterhaltungen and were later reprinted several times in various places. The translator is Ludwig Gottlieb Crome, a collection of whose poems appeared after his death.[47]

The bibliography brings out two interesting additional points. We see first that not a single imitation of Ossian exists before the advent of Denis’s translation, and secondly, that most of the early publications hailed from Bremen and Hamburg, the cities in which the originals were soonest accessible. That the periodicals of Hannover and Göttingen should be among the first to pay tribute to the newly discovered genius is easily explained by a reference to the dynastic connections between Hannover and England.

CHAPTER III.
OSSIAN’S INFLUENCE UPON KLOPSTOCK AND THE SO–CALLED BARDS.

§1. Klopstock.

The subject of Ossian’s influence upon Klopstock, were it to receive exhaustive treatment, would greatly exceed the space we can allot to it in a general discussion of the effect that Ossian produced in Germany, and we shall therefore confine ourselves here largely to generalities and attempt only a broad sketch of Klopstock’s attitude toward the Gaelic bard. If we are to accept literally the statement made by Klopstock in a letter to Gerstenberg,[48] to the effect that he did not adopt the mythology of his forefathers until after the appearance of the “Lied eines Skalden” (1766), we ought to begin our discussion with Gerstenberg. It appears, however, that Klopstock gave some attention to old Germanic history and mythology previous to 1766.[49] At any rate, he fell under Ossian’s influence two years before, and set the example to a number of others. It is doubtful whether Ossian of himself would have had as strong an influence upon the so–called bards, had not Klopstock given the necessary encouragement; Gerstenberg’s example alone could not have been expected to produce the same results as that of the author of the Messiah.[50] Indeed, the influences that Ossian and Klopstock exercised upon the bards are in many cases so closely interwoven, that a discussion of Ossian’s influence upon the bards without a previous study of Klopstock would be impracticable.

Two streams of poesy, proceeding from Hagedorn and Haller, respectively, ran side by side in the middle of the 18th century, the former bearing upon its surface the light, fantastic, Frenchified, anacreontic poetry, the latter the more somber verse of Klopstock and his pupils—this latter in the strain of Young’s Night Thoughts.[51] The melancholy Ossian could be assured a cordial reception by a poet like Klopstock, at the bottom of whose really healthy nature there lurked something that had a little earlier responded to the elegiac mood of Young—feelings that had been intensified by the death of his dearly–beloved wife Meta (1758). This bereavement cast a deep shadow over Klopstock, so much so that for several years he wrote little poetry. Much of this time was spent in Germany—he had been living at Copenhagen since 1753—and it was undoubtedly upon one of these visits to his fatherland that he became acquainted with Ossian. Here was sustenance, indeed, for the sentimental side of his nature, for his Gefühlsschwärmerei. The dim forms of Ossian’s heroes, the misty atmosphere of the Highlands in which they lived, were well calculated to cast a spell over the author of the Messiah, whose own genius was not fitted to delineate his characters with sharp, clear–cut lines. There is a certain mistiness in Klopstock’s great epic that reminds one of the shadowy atmosphere in which the heroes of the Ossianic epics are enveloped. More than one passage in the Messiah conveys the impression of representing little more than rhetorical bombast. Macpherson was a kindred spirit.

This was, however, by no means all that Ossian held out to him. He saw something in Ossian that he seized upon even more eagerly—too eagerly, in fact—namely, he regarded Ossian as a German. By this time Klopstock’s activity in the patriotic field had begun; religion no longer engrossed his entire attention. Barring Frederick the Great, there were no glorious figures upon the political stage, and Frederick’s fondness for the literature of France was not calculated to attract Klopstock, who hated the rationalistic poetry of the French. Nor was the empire of the 18th century a political organism to inspire the poet to patriotic effusions. A united fatherland lay, however, in the dim and distant past, almost buried in oblivion, in the days of old, when Arminius and his mighty warriors defied the power of Rome itself. And thither Klopstock turned for inspiration. Tacitus was a good source for historical data and in the famous work of the old Roman historian mention was made of the shouting of a battle–song by the Germani, a baritus (written barditus in some of the manuscripts).[52] Hence the term “bard” was applied to those whose duty it was to incite the warriors to battle by means of songs, and the songs themselves were called by Klopstock Bardiete, a word he applied also to his last historical dramas.[53] Unfortunately these songs of the days of yore, for the existence of which Eginhard’s statement was cited as authority, were apparently lost:

And now Ossian appeared upon the scene, the bard of bards, who sang of the deeds of days gone by. Here was a source of consolation, indeed. If Ossian had only sung the deeds of Arminius! Although Fingal was no hero to be despised, Klopstock laments:

And this regret that only a few notes have been handed down he could not shake off. We meet with it again and again, not only in his odes, e. g., “Unsre Sprache,” but also in his letters, e. g., in an epistle to Denis, dated Copenhagen, Jan. 6, 1767, where he says: “Ich bitte Sie, mich nicht lange auf Ihre Uebersetzung des Ossian warten zu lassen. Ossian ist ein vortrefflicher Barde. Wenn wir doch auch von unsern Barden irgend in einem Kloster etwas fänden!”[56] And in another letter to the same, dated Bernstorff, Sept. 8, 1767, he writes: “Ossians Werke sind wahre Meisterstücke. Wenn wir einen solchen Barden fänden! Es wird mir ganz warm bey diesem Wunsche.”[57] And when Denis informs him of the discovery of the songs of the so–called Illyrian bards,[58] he can not conceal his delight, and writes from Bernstorff under date of July 22, 1768: “Sie haben mir durch Ihre Nachricht, dass noch illyrische Barden durch die Ueberlieferung existiren, eine solche Freude gemacht, dass ich ordentlich gewünscht hätte, dass mir Ihr Ossian weniger gefallen hätte, um Sie bitten zu können, ihn liegen zu lassen und diese Barden zu übersetzen.”[59] Though the Poems of Ossian could not, then, fully compensate for the German treasures that were lost, they offered a standard by which to judge the character of the songs of the old Germani, and threw light upon many old institutions. There was much false material in Macpherson’s various preliminary dissertations, which, unfortunately, was accepted as gospel truth, even by men who might have been credited with more critical acumen. And so when Klopstock was in search of dress and historical material for his Bardiete, what more natural than that in painting the character and customs of the followers of Arminius, he should borrow here and there from the picture of the ancient Celts as presented by Macpherson?[60] That Klopstock interested himself in the history and manners of the ancient Caledonians, we see from a passage in the letter to Denis, dated July 22, 1768, where he refers Denis to John Macpherson’s Critical Dissertations:[61] “Ich vermuthe, dass Sie einige Kleinigkeiten in Ihrer [Vorrede] zum Ossian ändern werden,” he writes, “wenn Sie Macpherson von den Alterthümern der Hochländer gelesen haben werden.”[62]

But what had Ossian to do with the old Germani? We shall let Klopstock answer in his own words: “Und nun eine kleine nicht üble Nachricht von meinen weidmännischen Lustwandlungen in den Wäldern unsrer alten Sprachen, nach gethaner Arbeit nämlich.—Makpherson, der Retter des Barden Ossian (Ossian war deutscher Abkunft, weil er ein Kaledonier war)[63] wird mir, und wie ich hoffe nun bald, die eisgrauen Melodien zu einigen lyrischen Stellen des grossen Dichters schicken. Mit Hülfe dieser Melodien denk’ ich das Sylbenmaass der Barden herauszubringen.”[64] An epigram in the same tone appeared in the Hamburgische Neue Zeitung, 1771, No. 183, and was reprinted in the first edition of the Gelehrtenrepublik, although omitted in the second. It was entitled “Gerechter Anspruch,” and ran as follows:

We see, therefore, that Ossian was unceremoniously annexed by Klopstock; Celts and Germani were all one to him,[65] he drew no narrow distinctions, and not until late in life were his ideas on this point clarified. We are not to suppose, however, that Klopstock alone occupied this position. Far from it. The conceptions that existed at the time as to the genetic relation of peoples and languages were rather hazy, to say the least. Klopstock’s intense patriotism was a factor in preventing him from penetrating more to the root of the matter. “Die allgemein anerkannte und empfundene Vortrefflichkeit dieser Gesänge war es,” says a writer in the periodical Bragur,[66] “welche ... die zärtliche Vaterlandsliebe einiger teutschen Worthies so weit entflammte, dass sie nicht nur den Barden Ossian, weil man bisher die Celten für die Stammväter der Teutschen hielt und die ältesten teutschen Dichter aus der Heidenzeit nicht anders als mit dem Bardennamen zu beschenken gewohnt war, zu einem Landsmanne von uns zu machen suchten, sondern ihn auch wirklich machten. Unsere Väter waren also Celten, unsere ältesten teutonischen Dichter Barden.”

But still another element of confusion made its appearance with the introduction of Norse mythology. The warriors of Arminius were not Christians, nor was their religion based upon the mythology of the Greeks. They had a mythology of their own, of which little was known. Fortunately, the Old Norse Edda had preserved a complete system of divinities, and so Arminius and his followers were constrained to pray to the Old Norse gods. Ferven patriots, who did not hesitate to adopt Ossian as a countryman, could scarcely be expected to distinguish between Old Norse mythology and the mythology of the ancient Cherusci and Catti. Now Ossian having once been stamped as of German descent, it required no great stretch of imagination to make Fingal and his warriors forswear their allegiance to the Spirit of Loda and pray to Wodan and his band, and vice versa to make Norse bards—skalds—assume various characteristics of Ossian’s heroes. Ossian and the characters of Norse mythology went hand in hand, and making their appearance, as they did, about the same time,[67] confusion was bound to arise. This confusion was particularly noticeable in the writings of the first group of German poets that were influenced by Ossian—of Klopstock and the bards—and played much mischief in German literature for several years. Klopstock, not content with introducing the Norse gods into his new poems, proceeded to drive the residents of Olympus out of old ones and to replace them by the dwellers in Walhalla. By the end of the year 1767 this process was completed. It is nowhere better illustrated than in the ode now called “Wingolf,” which was written in 1747 under the title “An des Dichters Freunde.” In the first verse, e. g., Hebe has had to make way for Gna and so on throughout the poem.[68] It will be interesting to mention a few of the changes occasioned by the appearance of Ossian. L. 4: “Feyernd in mächtigen Dithyramben,” now reads: “Feyrend in kühnerem Bardenliede.” Ll. 5–7 which originally read:

have been changed to:

It is evident that these changes are confined to externals, as is also the case when l. 10, “Mit Orpheus Leyer,” becomes “Des Zelten Leyer,” or l. 25, “Dein Priester wartet,” is changed to “Dein Barde wartet,” and so on. As for Orpheus, the Thracians were regarded by Klopstock as a tribe of the Celts, and so Orpheus becomes as much of a German bard as Ossian.[70] Before we leave this ode, let us glance at an example or two, showing how the machinery of Ossian is thrown together with Norse mythology. Ll. 45–9, which originally read:

were changed to:

or ll. 209–12:

which have become:

Klopstock notes with reference to the word Telyn: “Die Leyer der Barden. Sie heisset noch jetzt in der neueren celtischen Sprache so, die am Meisten von der älteren behalten hat.” The term has replaced Leier also in the odes “Thuiskon,” l. 13, “Die Barden,” l. 2; it occurs in ll. 62 and 123 of the ode “Der Hügel, und der Hain,” l. 14 of “Die Barden,” in the Hermannsschlacht, in Hermann und die Fürsten, etc. The introduction of this Celtic word goes back directly to the study of Celtic to which Klopstock was incited by the poems of Ossian. Moreover, it is not the only word he borrowed in this way. In “Die Barden,” l. 14, he speaks of the Telyn of our Filea, and explains the latter term in a note as “Die vortrefflichsten unter den Barden, welche die jüngeren unterrichteten.”[72] Another Celtic word that he introduced is Bardale, which he defines as follows: “Von Barde. So hiess in unsrer älteren Sprache die Lerche. Die Nachtigall verdient’s noch mehr, so zu heissen.” Klopstock applied the word also to the nightingale, but in the ode “Die Lerche und die Nachtigall” he uses it for the lark, a symbol of the song of nature, in contradistinction to the nightingale, whose song is more artificial. The ode “Bardale,” written in 1748, was originally entitled “Aëdone”; it was first published under the simple title “Ode” in the Vermischte Schriften von den Verfassern der Bremischen Beiträge, i, p. 378 (1749). Although these terms are employed occasionally by Klopstock’s imitators and others,[73] they never became popular and soon died out altogether.

Klopstock was an earnest student of versification and nothing could have given him more pleasure at one time of his career than the discovery of the poetical measures of the ancient Germani. The appearance of Macpherson’s Ossian in a prose garb, welcome as it was to some, must have come as a cruel disappointment to one who was so anxious to be enlightened as to the nature and structure of the meter of the Ur–Germanic bardic songs. This disappointment finds expression in the ode “Der Bach,” where he sings:

If Klopstock had only lived to see Ahlwardt’s translation from the so–called Celtic originals, he would have had at least a partial recompense. As it was, all he had to go by was the original (?) of the sixth book of “Temora” and that did not give him much information as to the exact structure of the verse he sought. He therefore entered into correspondence with Macpherson, as we saw above[74] in the letter to Gleim. The intensity of his interest is well illustrated by a few epistolary passages. He writes to Denis under date of July 22, 1768: “In dem Celtischen war ich auch schon ziemlich weit, aber es erklärt uns nichts; und da liess ichs. Ihnen ins Ohr. Macpherson (mit dem ich correspondire), versteht entweder Ossians Quantität, oder das Sylbenmass überhaupt nicht genug. Wenn Sie mir wahrscheinlich machen können, dass die illyrischen Barden wenigstens halbe Deutsche waren, so bekömmt der Uebersetzer einen schweren Stand mit mir, wenn er falsch, nur ein wenig falsch übersetzt.”[75] Again, he writes to Ebert on May 5, 1769: “Wenn mir Macpherson Wort hält; so bekomme ich einige alte Melodien nach Ossian, in unsre Noten gesezt; und so kann ich auch vielleicht etwas nicht unwahrscheinliches von dem Rhythmus der Barden sagen.”[76] It appears, however, that he got but little help from the material that Macpherson sent him, and so he takes his request to Angelica Kauffmann,[77] who resided in London at the time. He writes to Gleim from Bernstorff, Sept. 2, 1769: “Ich bin seit Kurzem in eine deutsche Malerin in London, Angelika Kaufmann, beinahe verliebt. Sie hat einen Briefwechsel mit mir angefangen, und will mir schicken: einen Kopf Ossians nach ihrer Phantasie, ihr Portrait und ein Gemälde aus dem Messias.”[78] Their common admiration for Ossian was no small factor in cementing the friendship between the poet and the artist. Unfortunately nothing came of the portrait of Ossian,[79] and hence we are left in the dark as to the artist’s conception of the Voice of Cona and as to how her conception would have coincided with Klopstock’s. On March 3, 1770, Klopstock wrote to Angelica from Copenhagen: “Könnten Sie nicht in Edingburgh, oder auch weiter hinauf gegen Norden, durch Hülfe Ihrer Freunde, einen Musikus auftreiben, der mir die Melodien solcher Stellen im Ossian, die vorzüglich lyrisch sind, in unsere Noten setzte,” etc.[80] Nothing could better illustrate Klopstock’s profound interest in the subject than the passages just quoted. After this we hear nothing further of the matter, and must conclude that Klopstock’s hoped–for assistance from this quarter proved illusory. What were Klopstock’s conclusions with reference to Ossian’s meter, we are told in one of his essays on the German hexameter, viz., he thought that Ossian’s meter consisted of a mixture of narrative verses of his own invention and other lyrical verses answering to the sense.[81] Of course Ossian’s value for Klopstock lay in the fact that he supposedly sang in natural melodies and was not hampered by artificial measures.

At the height of his enthusiasm for Ossian, Klopstock deemed it no sacrilege to place the Celtic bard alongside of Homer, in accordance with the popular practice of the day.[82] In a letter to Denis, Klopstock writes from Copenhagen under date of August 4, 1767: “Ich liebe Ossian so sehr, dass ich seine Werke über einige Griechische der besten Zeit setze.”[83] In the first edition of the Gelehrtenrepublik (1774) appeared the following epigram, which is a striking illustration of Klopstock’s quondam supreme admiration for Ossian:

Similarly he sings in the ode “Unsre Sprache” (ll. 53–60):

The first four verses of this eulogy became very popular among Ossian’s numerous admirers, and we find them occasionally prefixed to German translations. They are also quoted by Denis in his Vorbericht[85] to the Lieder Sineds (1772).

Let us now briefly consider Ossian’s influence upon Klopstock as it appears in some of his works. Dr. Julius Köster in his Programm Ueber Klopstocks Gleichnisse (Iserlohn, 1878), fixes the beginning of this influence altogether too late. He says: “Ossian hat erst Ende der sechziger Jahre auf Klopstock wirken können, weil er in Deutschland erst um jene Zeit durch die Uebersetzung von Denis bekannt wurde.” We have seen, however, that notices of Ossian had appeared in Germany as early as 1762 and that several translations were published before that of Denis, although to be sure, Denis’s was the first that attracted widespread attention. Klopstock, who of course had become acquainted with Ossian long before the appearance of Denis’s translation, took a warm interest in the translator’s work, as is evidenced by the correspondence that passed between the two. Klopstock had seen bits of the translation before it was published; under date of Sept. 8, 1767, he writes to Denis from Bernstorff: “Sie werden am Ende dieses Briefs einige Ausdrücke finden, mit denen ich in Ihrer Uebersetzung des Ossian und in Ihrer Ode weniger als mit den andern zufrieden bin.”[86] It has been pointed out,[87] that the earliest translations all emanated from North Germany, from Bremen, Hamburg, and Hannover, and they were consequently very liable to fall into Klopstock’s hands. Besides, there is no reason why he should not have read Macpherson’s poems in English, a copy of which he would have had no difficulty in procuring on one of the frequent visits made to Germany between the summer of 1762 and July, 1764. Klopstock had begun the study of English as a youngster at school, and although he, like so many other German literati of the day, like Lenz, for example, never obtained a complete scientific mastery of the language, he would have experienced little difficulty in construing Macpherson’s short, simple periods. Be that as it may, there can be no doubt of the fact that Klopstock became acquainted with Ossian as early as 1764, for the simple reason that some of the odes written in that year show plain traces of Ossian’s influence.

In all attempts to arrive at an exact estimate of Ossian’s influence upon Klopstock, one difficulty will always be encountered, a difficulty based upon the fact that both the language of Macpherson and that of Klopstock rest in large measure upon the same foundations: the Bible, Homer, Milton, Latin poets. Malcolm Laing in his “Dissertation”[88] gave innumerable examples of Macpherson’s borrowings, and although he undoubtedly went a little too far, it can not be denied that many of his conclusions are true. The greatest care has, therefore, to be exercised in attributing anything in Klopstock to Ossian, for the chances are that the Bible, or Milton, or Homer, or Horace, or some other classical poet, is the common source from which both drew.[89] For instance, Macpherson is fond of comparing the voice or song to a stream, but were we to attribute Klopstock’s lines:

to Ossian, we should be led astray, for Klopstock’s source was undoubtedly Horace, Odes, iv, 2, ll. 5–8, where he speaks of the songs of Pindar:

The large majority of Klopstock’s comparisons are taken from nature and so are Ossian’s: comparisons with the moon and the stars, dusk and night, clouds and mist, wind and storm, etc., etc., all are found in Klopstock even before Ossian appeared; indeed, the resemblance of the language of Klopstock to that of Ossian, even in the early songs of the Messiah, especially as far as the imagery is concerned, is striking. The same accumulation of comparisons is of course found in Homer. Köster[90] again and again notes passages from Ossian where an influence proceeding from him is absolutely out of the question, not only in connection with the early songs of the Messiah, but also with reference to odes written before 1764, e. g., he refers to Ossian in connection with the line “Laura war ... Schön wie ein festlicher Tag,” in the ode “Petrarka und Laura” (l. 61). But this ode was written as early as 1748 and consequently Ossian can not be held responsible. When Klopstock in the “Klagode” sings (ll. 10–11):

we can of course point to a resemblance in Ossian, “Lathmon,” p. 271, l. 20: “We decay like the grass of the hill,” or “Berrathon,” p. 382, l. 3: “Like the leaves of woody Morven, they pass away,” but at the same time we must not forget that similar comparisons occur in the Psalms and in Homer (e. g., Iliad, vi, ll. 146–8). Likewise we have the comparison of man’s perishableness to the short life of a flower in Hermann und die Fürsten, Sc. 14: “Vor dem Triumphwagen werd’ ich wie eine Blume hindorren,” and also in Ossian, “Croma,” p. 178, l. 18: “They fall away, like the flower,” etc., but compare Job, 14, 2, Psalms, 103, 15–6, etc. Enough examples have been cited to convince one of the fruitlessness of attempting to draw sharp lines in the treatment of our subject. Of this we may be certain: One reason why Ossian appealed so strongly to Klopstock was, that he found here so much that was familiar to him from his own reading and writing.

Having thus far regarded the question mainly from a negative standpoint, it now remains for us to give some examples of a positive influence. Ossian’s influence upon Klopstock is visible particularly in the odes written in 1764, 1766 and 1767, and in the first Bardiet, Die Hermannsschlacht, although traces appear in the later odes and Bardiete. Doubtless a closer examination of the language of the later books of the Messiah would also reveal the influence of Ossian. Salomo contains an Ossianic reminiscence or two, but nothing that can be distinctly localized. Klopstock’s unbounded admiration for Ossian really did not last much over a decade and the old bard’s influence gradually diminished, just as Klopstock’s fondness for Norse mythology grew less and less pronounced. By the time he began to turn his attention to the French Revolution, both Ossian and the Norse divinities appear more like a memory of the days of old. The year 1764, in which Klopstock probably first became acquainted with Ossian, marks the beginning of a period of renewed activity in the field of the ode, and I am inclined to conclude that Ossian’s appearance helped to further that activity. The influence of Norse mythology upon the works of Klopstock manifests itself largely in externals; similarly does that of Ossian. Klopstock borrowed much from the bardic machinery, just as he did from that of the Norse gods, without at the same time entering very deeply into the spirit of Ossian. In fact, he did not need to, for much of what he found in Ossian was not foreign to his nature. That we are justified in placing Klopstock’s acquaintance with Ossian as far back as 1764 needs no further proof than a reference to the ode “Der Jüngling” written in that year, in which the poet treats the theme of the perishableness of youth, a subject upon which Ossian loved to harp. Indeed, Klopstock’s poem is directly based upon Ossian’s reflections on youth in “The War of Inis–Thona,” p. 203, ll. 1–5.[91] The entire dress of the poem is Ossianic.

It strikes us as rather savoring of Ossian, when nature is allowed to take on a dimmer, mistier aspect in the new form of the ode “Wingolf,” e. g., in l. 196 “wallenden Opferrauche” is changed to “schweigenden Dämmerungen;”

ll. 269–71: