XXI. THE GREAT COUNCILS; THE LANDSGEMEINDE AND TAGSATZUNG, OR DIET; LITERATURE IN THE HEROIC AGE.

Perhaps no better place than this can be found for discussing the constitutional affairs of the enlarged Bund. A description of the rouage administratif of each of the thirteen republics would be far too tedious to the reader, and we shall therefore treat them collectively as far as possible. The cantons naturally split into two divisions, those À Grand Conseil, and the cantons À Landsgemeinde, the latter including the country republics, the three WaldstÄtten, Glarus, Appenzell, and Zug.

We have seen in the case of Zurich how her council sprang into existence and became the chief corner-stone of her constitutional freedom, after she had been for generations dependent on an abbey. In this latter respect Zurich but resembles Lucerne, Solothurn, Geneva, and others, which went through similar phases of development. Bern, however, received the stamp of independence at her very birth—in the very charter of liberties involved in her foundation—and her history ran more smoothly. Her government at once took an aristocratic tinge, a close corporation of dominant families ruling; and in this respect she resembled somewhat mighty Venice. In the eighteenth century these ruling families numbered 360, and kept at arm's length, as it were, the craftsmen, who, however, were not entirely excluded from a share in the government. Vast personal property and additional domains acquired by conquest formed the chief source of the power of Bern, and brought in a great income to the patricians. Rule, domination, statecraft, became the chief concern of the Bernese aristocracy, whilst in Lucerne, Solothurn, and Freiburg, the government was, if possible, still more aristocratic than that of Bern, and in all these cases was presided over by a Schultheiss, or Mayor. In the Zurich republic a more democratic spirit was found, and the inhabitants were given to industrial and intellectual pursuits rather than to rule and conquest. Her trade was considerable, and her constitution had done away with the prerogatives of the nobility. Owing to these things the way was opened for her burghers into the government, and there sprang up an ambition among the craftsmen to rise in the social scale. Zurich is the prototype of the Geneva of the eighteenth century, the two cities greatly resembling each other in their tendencies and movements, religious and political. At Geneva the craftsmen, occupying the bas de la ville, by their energy struggled to the haut de la ville, or quarter of the privileged classes. All authority was vested in the two councils—the "Grosse Rath," a sort

of legislative body numbering one hundred or two hundred members; and the "Kleine Rath," a select committee of the former, consisting of from twenty-five to thirty-six members, in whom rested the executive and judicial power. In the liberal cantons the Burgomaster presided. The Council, however, encroached upon the rights of the people at large, and deprived them of direct influence in the management of affairs. Basel and Schaffhausen followed in the track of Zurich. Genuine democracies represent the cantons À Landsgemeinde. The government embodied the will of a sovereign people, and from its very antiquity commands our veneration and deserves special attention. To time immemorial the ancient custom goes back. It was known amongst the Greeks, and we meet with it in the "Volksversammlung" of the early German tribes—the gathering of a whole people around their king to administer justice or decide issues of peace or war. These assemblies sprang up again in the thirteenth century, in the Forest Cantons, but now became political meetings, from the necessity of guarding against a common foe. The rule by Landsgemeinde was adopted by eleven Alpine districts, of which two, Gersau and Urseren, were almost microscopical. Five of these were swept away, Schwyz amongst the number. Of these we shall not speak. Yet the hoary and patriarchal custom still lingers on in some of the secluded Alpine nooks, favoured by the isolation of the place, and the gÉnie conservateur innate in the Alpine folk. Unable, however, to clearly understand the ancient Landsgemeinde except by reference to the present age, we prefer to draw the reader's attention to the living spring, the sacred spot where he can "look face to face on freedom in its purest and most ancient form"—to quote Freeman's fine words—a heart-stirring sight to witness.

The last Sunday in April is the date usually fixed for the holding of the Landsgemeinde. The gatherings all bear a general resemblance to each other, yet each shows the influence of the locality, the religion, or the industrial pursuits of the people. But whether we see the meeting in Protestant and manufacturing Glarus, in Catholic and conservative Unterwalden, or in picturesque Sarnen, the scene is one never to be forgotten. Dressed in their Sunday best, and wearing the sword, the badge of freedom—so orders the ancient ritual—the ardent burghers flock to the national ring, or forum, to discharge their civic duties. After early morning service, and a grand parade of Landammann and staff, halberdiers, troops, and bands of music, the Landsgemeinde opens at eleven with a religious ceremony. At Trogen the hymn, "All life flows from Thee," is sung by ten thousand voices, and, at the call of the Landammann, the vast crowd falls down in silent prayer. The effect is grand and solemn. An address by the Landammann follows, and then the business of the day is entered upon. The inspection of the yearly accounts, the election of magistrates and officials, amendment of existing laws and the promulgation of new ones, are the chief items on the agenda list. All the officers, from the Landammann himself down to the humblest public servant, are subject to yearly election, though in the case of the chief man re-election usually takes place for many years. There are indeed regular dynasties of Landammanns, so to speak, for the office may remain in the same family for many generations. Assent to a proposal is given by holding up the right hand, and this the crowd does with great eagerness. The list of candidates is drawn up by the Landsgemeinde, but, strange to say, free discussion on proposed reforms and new laws is permitted only at Glarus. The question is discussed beforehand by the Landrath, a legislative body elected by the parish. "De minoribus rebus principes consultant, de majoribus omnes," writes Tacitus of the German Volksgemeinde, and the words apply almost equally well here. The Landsgemeinde is, in fact, the supreme court, which approves or annuls. So recently as the spring of 1888, for instance, Urseren was deprived of its autonomy and joined to the Canton of Uri, by order of the Landsgemeinde. And at Sarnen the revision of the constitution was agreed to at the open and general meeting. The election of the Waibel, or Summoner, gives rise to much amusement, for in him the chief requisite is strength of lungs, he being the mouthpiece of the Landammann. The installation of the Landammann himself is the closing scene, and the most impressive one. Slowly and solemnly he takes the oath of fidelity to the constitution, and the people in return pledge themselves to stand by the leader. With hands uplifted the vast crowd repeats the phrases word by word as they are spoken by the Landammann. This mutual engagement between leader and people—their hearts filled with the sacredness of the moment, and their voices swelling into one grand roll—is almost overwhelming in its touching simplicity and fervour. That the custom has maintained itself with but minor changes through so many centuries answers for the admirable stability of the people, and the suitableness of the rÉgime itself.

The common tie that bound together the thirteen autonomous states into one was the Diet or Tagsatzung. It met at one or other of the chief towns—Zurich, Lucerne, Bern, Baden, and so forth. Each canton was, as a rule, allowed one representative, and any one of the cantons could summon a meeting, though this was generally done by the Vorort or canton directeur—a position usually held by Zurich—whose member likewise presided. The various cantons joined in the discussions according to their rank and the order of their admission to the league. This will be made clearer by the accompanying list. The Boten, or envoys, not being plenipotentiaries, would post to and fro between their governments and the Diet, to report progress and receive instructions. As the proceedings were in later times committed to writing, we have extant a most valuable series of records called Abschiede (= leave or congÉ). Held at first but once a year, the Diet occasionally met as many as fifty times in the course of the twelvemonth, whilst a single session would last sometimes for several weeks. At one period the meetings became international congresses, at which the most important questions were deliberated. But, in truth, the Diet, down to its extinction in 1848, never again during its long existence exerted the vast influence it had in its brilliant fifteenth-century period. Yet despite its many defects, and its slow and round-about way of doing business, the Tagsatzung worked successfully—far more so indeed than did the German Government.

A short sketch of the intellectual and literary life of the heroic period may here be given. It is clear at the outset that an epoch so largely given over to warfare and political progress would not be likely to produce much meditative or reflective poetry. "The clash of arms frightens the Muses," says an old proverb. (An exception must, however, be usually made in the case of the peaceful and sheltered cloister.) Yet this active and stirring period brought forth much national literature. Throughout we find singers who in verse or prose chant the national glory, and no episode of importance is without its poetic chronicle or interpretation; the national enthusiasm vents itself in war-song, in satire, in mock-heroics, or in rhyming chronicle. Wandering poets living on the scanty proceeds of their lieder; craftsmen who have taken up the sword; soldiers by profession—these are the bards of the time. Rugged and unpolished sometimes are their verses, for the Middle German is in a transition state, and poetry has long since left courts and descended among the people. In Germany, as everybody knows, had formed the body of the Meistersinger. The historical "Folk songs" (Volkslieder) are the overflowing of a nation's heart stirred to its depths by the thrilling scenes around it, and they are the true expression of the temper of the time. We need only allude to the songs inspired by Sempach and Naefels, and the fiery song of Morat by Veit Weber, an Alsacian, who fought in the Swiss ranks filled with patriotic enthusiasm. Lucerne, too, has brought forth many poets—Auer, Wick, Viol, Birkes, and others—who sang the glory of the great wars. A song and a play dealing with Tell appeared about this time.

Along with the poet the chronicler springs up, and numerous instances of this class are met with. At Bern we find Justinger (1420), the first to draw historical knowledge from the Volkslieder, Diebold Schilling (1484), and Anshelm; at Schwyz, John FrÜnd; at Lucerne, Melchior Russ, Diebold Schilling, the chaplain, whose account of the meeting at Stanz is most trustworthy, Petermann Etterlin, and Nicolas Schradin; at Zurich, Gerold Edlibach, the noble knights Strettlinger of Bern, who wrote the chronicles bearing their name, and the author of the "White Book of Sarnen," complete the list. The "White Book" is much referred to by modern writers. The most brilliant annalist perhaps is Tschudi, of whom mention was made in the chapter on the foundation of the league. Biassed as the writers often are—nothing else can be expected from the times—their records bear witness to the national spirit of the Swiss, and to the intellectual revival taking place. The first Helvetian typography was produced by Albert von Bonnstetten, a Zurich nobleman, and Dean of Einsiedeln, and one of the chief scholars of his age. He gave a trustworthy account of Nicolas von der FlÜe, and the Burgundian wars. Another great scholar was his friend Nicolas von Wyl, a nobleman of Aargau.

The revival of letters introduced into the subtle scholasticism of the time a world of new thoughts, learning, and refined literary tastes—humanismus as the Germans so expressively call it. Nicolas von Wyl is one of the oldest German-Swiss humanists. He extended the Italian Renaissance to his native soil by his masterly translations of Petrarch, Boccaccio, Poggio, and others. Æneas Sylvius, the elegant poet, novelist, and orator, who rose to the Papal dignity as Pius II., would have had the world forget his fascinating but worldly writings. "Rejicite Æneam, suscipite Pium," was his request. For twenty years Æneas had laboured to bring classical culture to barbarian Germany. His earliest pupil, Von Wyl,[46] became a great favourite at the German courts, and with the literary circle which the highly-cultivated Duchess of Wurtemberg gathered around her. Von Wyl translated some of the Latin works of Felix Malleolus, his friend and benefactor; for instance, his biting satire on the idle Lollards and "Beghards." He died at Zurich.

But if the courts and the nobles promoted the growth of the New Learning, the universities were its chief support. That of Basel was opened in 1460, under the auspices of Pius II. (Æneas Sylvius), who granted its foundation charter. It rapidly gathered within its walls some of the brightest minds of the day, amongst whom we need only mention the world-famed Erasmus and Zwingli the reformer.