Paul Gerhardt was already a familiar name before I went for a walk around the Nikolaiviertel (St. Nicholas Quarter) here in Berlin, around 2023. But as I was treading setts, rounding the medieval stone church that lent the quarter its name, and looking up at the half-timbered houses cuddled around the house of worship,* I was surprised to find a plaque to Gerhardt. — *That said, the church and houses were in fact rebuilt here from post-World War II ruins by the former German Democratic Republic when Berlin celebrated its 750th anniversary in the 1980s. They are not the originals that a visitor would have seen in the Baroque period. — In a way he was a Berliner; he moved here after studying at the University of Wittenberg, in 1643. Starting in 1657, he was employed as the pastor of the Nikolaikirche.
He was a Lutheran theologian and hymn writer whose oeuvre is still known today. A few of his verses — written in the clear and peculiarly grounded style of his generation — are standard modern Christmas repertoire, with fittingly beautiful musical settings, in Germany. "Wie soll ich dich empfangen" and "Ich steh' an deiner Krippen hier"** are perhaps the most famous.
Perhaps they are also especially poignant because of the difficult times in which Paul Gerhardt lived. To quote from Wikipedia:
Wie viele andere Familien in Kursachsen hatten auch die Gerhardts unter den Folgen des Dreißigjährigen Krieges – Hungersnot, Seuchen und den Übergriffen der Soldaten – zu leiden. 1619 starb sein Vater, 1621 seine Mutter.
In other words: the Gerhardts had settled in Saxony-Anhalt during the Thirty Years' War. His family suffered from famine, pestilence, and marauding soldiers, to the point that his parents both died by the time he was 15 years old. Paul had an older brother and two younger sisters at the time, the article adds. The rest of his biography, a litany of personal tragedy, also has overtones of Voltaire's Candide.
Even decades later, when Gerhardt arrived in Berlin in 1643, the Thirty Years' War was still being fought, and the fighting as well as dysentery, a plague, and smallpox had reduced the city's population by more than half. So, although of course interpreting authors' works through their biographies is rather more of a 19th-century approach than an approach that 21st-century literary theoreticians would support, I will venture to say it is for this reason that there is always a chiaroscuro, in the sense of blended effects of light and darkness, in Gerhardt's works.
** "Wie soll ich dich empfangen" was scored by Johann Sebastian Bach in his Christmas Oratorio as well as by Johann Crüger; I like both settings, and recordings of both are easily discoverable on YouTube. "Ich steh' an deiner Krippen hier" has also been 'done' by Bach, as well as by Georg Christian Schemelli.
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| Labors of the Months: June, from a Flemish Book of Hours (Bruges) Painted in early 16th century by Simon Bening via Wikimedia Commons |
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Rather than dwell on Paul Gerhardt's well-known Advent songs, I want to write about a summer poem, "Geh aus, mein Herz, und suche Freud." — In German one would call its subject matter a Kontrastprogramm ('programme of contrast') to the drab weather of a north German November.
For brevity's sake, I'm only offering rough translations of the first seven verses of the original fifteen. For indolence's sake, I've not even attempted to keep the AABCCB rhyme scheme.
Geh aus, mein Herz, und suche Freudin dieser lieben Sommerzeit
an deines Gottes Gaben;
Schau an der schönen Gärten Zier,
und siehe, wie sie mir und dir
sich ausgeschmücket haben.
Go forth, my heart, and search for joy / in this dear summer time / from your God's gifts; / Look on the pretty gardens' ornaments, / and see how they, for me and you, / have decorated themselves.
Die Bäume stehen voller Laub,
das Erdreich decket seinen Staub
mit einem grünen Kleide;
Narzissus und die Tulipan,
die ziehen sich viel schöner an
als Salomonis Seide.
The trees stand full of foliage, / the realm of earth has decked its dust / with a green dress; / daffodil and tulip, / these wear their clothes more beautifully / than Solomon his silk.
Die Lerche schwingt sich in die Luft,
das Täublein fliegt aus seiner Kluft
und macht sich in die Wälder;
die hochbegabte Nachtigall
ergötzt und füllt mit ihrem Schall
Berg, Hügel, Tal und Felder.
The lark wings itself into the air, / the little dove flies from its rocky hiding-place / and makes its way to the woods; / the highly talented nightingale / pleases and fills with her sound / mountain, hill, valley and fields.
Die Glucke führt ihr Völklein aus,
der Storch baut und bewohnt sein Haus,
das Schwälblein speist die Jungen,
der schnelle Hirsch, das leichte Reh
ist froh und kommt aus seiner Höh
ins tiefe Gras gesprungen.
The mother hen leads out her folk, / the stork builds and tenants his house, / the swallow feeds her young, / the speedy stag, the light deer / is joyous and comes from its height / leaping into the deep grass.
Die Bächlein rauschen in dem Sand
und malen sich an ihrem Rand
mit schattenreichen Myrten;
die Wiesen liegen hart dabei
und klingen ganz vom Lustgeschrei
der Schaf und ihrer Hirten.
The little brooks rush in the sand / and paint for themselves upon their banks / myrtles full of shadows; / the meadows lie fast by / and fairly ring from the happy cries / of sheep and their shepherds.
Die unverdrossne Bienenschar
fliegt hin und her, sucht hier und da
ihr edle Honigspeise;
des süßen Weinstocks starker Saft
bringt täglich neue Stärk und Kraft
in seinem schwachen Reise.
The tireless swarm of bees / flies to and fro, seeks here and there / its refined meal of honey; / the strong juice of the sweet grapevine / daily brings new strength and force / in its weakly shoot.
Der Weizen wächset mit Gewalt;
darüber jauchzet jung und alt
und rühmt die große Güte
des, der so überfließend labt,
und mit so manchem Gut begabt
das menschliche Gemüte.
The wheat grows with might; / thereat rejoice young and old / and praise the great goodness / of him, who refreshes so abundantly, / and with many a good thing endows / the human state of mind.
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