[In the following essay, Auty discusses the complex relationship between Prešeren's German and Slovene poems, noting the high quality of his thirty-six extant German compositions, and observing his interesting status as a bilingual poet.]

In his stimulating book The Poet's Tongues¹ Professor Leonard Forster has drawn attention to the phenomenon of polyglot poets and the poetry they write—poetry, that is to say, which is written in a language that is not the poet's native tongue; and he has described and subtly analysed a whole series of examples ranging from the Middle Ages to the last few years. Although he touches in passing on the linguistic situation in pre-1918 Prague Professor Forster does not discuss any examples of polyglot poetry from eastern or east-central Europe; for he is basing himself on his ‘personal experience of multilingual conditions [which] has been almost exclusively Western European’.² His study should encourage students of eastern European languages and literatures to investigate the numerous and varied examples of polyglot poetry that have existed and still exist in the borderlands between Germany and Russia.

Throughout the whole of recorded history the cultural phenomenon known as ‘languages in contact’ has been characteristic of that region. Especially in the towns, communities of diverse nationality have lived together and have learned to speak each others' languages. In large areas and for long periods the language of administration and education has been different from their vernacular speech for many central and east Europeans. Such conditions were particularly characteristic of the eastern borderlands of the Polish Republic until its dismemberment in the late eighteenth century, of the Kingdom of Hungary until 1918, and of the European provinces of Turkey until 1913; but they were also found elsewhere, particularly in the domains of the house of Habsburg. Nevertheless, although linguistic conditions were similar over a period of several centuries, attitudes to language changed. Before the eighteenth century languages were treated functionally; each language was used for the purposes for which it was deemed appropriate. In Upper Hungary (the present-day Slovakia), for instance, this might mean using Slovak at home, German for business dealings in a town, and Hungarian with county officials (not to mention Latin in a local diet or for various legal purposes). Certain vernacular languages were recognized as suitable media for literary composition, for example German, Czech (up to about 1650), Hungarian, Polish, Greek, according to the region; others were not so recognized, or only to a very limited extent, such as White Russian, Slovak, Slovene.

The national revivals which began in central Europe in the second half of the eighteenth century and gathered momentum throughout the first half of the nineteenth ultimately affected the whole area from the Baltic to the Balkans. Language became regarded as the primary characteristic of nationality and each language in turn was developed in such a way as to be usable in all spheres of life—and in literature. The functional attitude to language was replaced by one based on sentiment. The result of this has been the establishment of a whole series of new literary languages, ranging from Finnish and Estonian in the north to Macedonian in the south.

In the earlier, pre-nationalistic period the choice of language was based on convention or convenience, or on the audience to be addressed: with the rise of linguistic nationalism the choice was one of fateful import and the change from one language to another represented a deliberate and highly significant decision. In the nineteenth century there are several examples of poets in the Habsburg Empire who wrote their early works in the official language in which they received their schooling but were then fired by national feeling to revert to their vernacular language. The Czech poet Karel Hynek Mácha (1810-36) wrote a series of German lyrics (Versuche des Ignaz Mácha 1829)³ before he began his career as a Czech writer. It has been suggested that he wrote these poems as an exercise, either as a self-imposed training in poetical composition in an established literary language or as a task proposed by his German teacher.⁴ There is no proof of this, and there is no need to doubt that Mácha wrote the poems spontaneously in a language that seemed appropriate before he had eaten of the ‘bitter fruit of nationality’ as Kollár was to call it.⁵ Similarly, Pavel Országh (1849-1921), later to become known as Hviezdoslav, the leading poet in the new Slovak literary language, wrote a series of poems in Hungarian during his schooldays at Miskolc.⁶ Although he learned Hungarian only at school his mastery of it was complete; and it appears that he was for some time unaware of the existence of literature in his native vernacular. When he too ate of the ‘bitter fruit’ he turned irrevocably to the writing of Slovak poetry; for him, however, the change seems to have been accompanied by painful and complex conflicts of loyalty, which, in the different Bohemian context, Mácha was spared. A third, much quoted, example of a bilingual poet of this time and region is that of the Croatian writer Petar Preradović (1818-72). Of him we learn that he largely forgot his native language in the course of his German-language education. After writing a number of unremarkable German poems he too was swept away by the tide of nationalism and, from 1844 onwards, wrote only in Croatian.⁷

These are three well-known examples of a familiar process; and many other similar cases could be quoted. It has been asserted that the Slovene poet Francè Prešeren (1800-49) belongs to the same category, that his German poems are a mere prologue to his Slovene writings.⁸ This is not the case however. Prešeren's German and Slovene poems are linked together in a much more complex relationship; and, moreover, the quality of his German work is of a much higher order than that of Mácha or Preradović and than the Hungarian poems of Hviezdoslav. It is worthy of study in its own right, quite apart from its interest as a particularly complex example of the phenomenon of the bilingual poet.

Two questions need to be answered: why did Prešeren write these particular poems in German? and what is their quality and value?

As far as we know, Prešeren was writing poems in Slovene from 1824 to 1846.⁹ Some small pieces may date from the last tragic years in Kranj (1846-9). It seems that his first preserved German poem was written in 1826 and his last in 1844. It would therefore seem that his career as a German and as a Slovene poet cover very nearly the same span of years. Before proceeding to examine the poems themselves some account must be given of the linguistic and cultural conditions in which the Slovenes lived in the early nineteenth century, for it is only against this background that Prešeren and his work can be fully understood.¹⁰

It is only since about 1800 that the name Slovene (Slovene slovenski, German slowenisch) has been used as a general term for the Slavs of Styria, Carinthia, and Carniola (as well as parts of Görz (Gorizia) and Istria). Until then different national and dialectal appellations had been used, in particular windisch for the Slavs of Styria and Carinthia, and krainisch for those of Carniola (Krain, Kranjsko). The growth of national consciousness in late eighteenth-century Austria stimulated sentiments of national identity and unity among these dialectally varied but culturally similar communities; and such sentiments were still further encouraged by the establishment by the French in the Napoleonic period of a political and administrative unit known as the Illyrian Provinces, even though its duration was brief (1809-13). The nobility and the majority of the urban population had long been German in language: the national revival was largely the work of priests in the earlier period, continued in the first decades of the nineteenth century by the growing secular intelligentsia—teachers, lawyers, librarians, and the like. The main, indeed the only important, centre of literary and cultural activity was Ljubljana (Laibach). When Prešeren began his literary career in the 1820s all literary production was subject to a strict censorship. This was local in the first instance; but in all cases of doubt and for all lengthy texts a decision had to be sought from Vienna where the chief censor was himself, as it happened, a Slovene, the famous linguistic scholar Jernej (Bartholomäus) Kopitar. The censorship was concerned with matters of morals and of political reliability. Works written in the developing Slovene language were at no disadvantage provided their content conformed to somewhat rigorous standards of moral rectitude and loyalty to the state and its authorities.¹¹

Prešeren was born in the village of Vrba, a few miles from Bled in Upper Carniola. His home language was Slovene (it is in that language that he wrote the only preserved letter to his parents).¹² We cannot say when he began to learn German. His mother could read and write it, and it is probable that he had some knowledge of it before he went to school. His elementary schooling in Ribnica was partly, and his secondary education in Ljubljana was wholly, in German, and by the time he went to Vienna University in 1821 he must have been completely at home in that language. For professional and many social purposes it must have been his language of daily intercourse throughout his life. It is particularly noteworthy that of the twenty-five or so preserved letters of Prešeren all but two are in German.¹³ His entire correspondence with his Slovene friends and fellow-writers Matija Čop and Stanko Vraz is in German, and this at a time when he was producing masterly poetical works in the new Slovene literary language. The rise of Slovene would thus seem to have been still to some extent functionally restricted: for the discussion of intellectual problems, of literature and politics, German was still the more natural medium.

Thirty-six German poems by Prešeren are extant. This compares with something over 150 poems in Slovene, so that the German poems form a substantial part of his total œuvre.¹⁴ They may further be divided into translations and original poems. Of the thirteen translations nine are the poet's German versions of his own Slovene originals and the other four are translations from Polish (two from Mickiewicz and two from Korytko).¹⁵ The original poems comprise lyrics (many of them sonnets), epigrams, and occasional poems, some of these last with little claim to permanence.

The German translation of Prešeren's own poems were mostly published together with the originals in Illyrisches Blatt, the weekly literary supplement of the official Laibacher Zeitung. The purpose of this dual publication is clear: Prešeren wished to prove to that part of the literary public who could not read Slovene that good poetry was being written in that language. It was part of the propaganda campaign in favour of the new literary language and of the new kind of poetry that was being written in it. The German versions are skilful and elegant; but in general they are less successful than the Slovene originals, as may be seen from the following two examples:

Velíka, Togenburg, bilá je mera
          trpljenja tvoj'ga; moje ga premaga:
          nazadnje omečí se tvoja draga,
          ti vsak dan okno celice odpira.
Od zora srečen upaš do večera,
          da bo vid'joča nje podoba blaga,
          in ko ti že priteče smrtna sraga,
          se še zaúpljiv k nji pogled ozira.
V nebesih nje oči jaz videt' menim,
          kadar predrznem vanje se ozreti,
          dva jezna kêruba z mêčem ognjenim.
Da bi ne žalil je, v vednem trepeti
          bežim jaz revež pred pogledom njenim;
          noben mi žar'k v življenja noč ne sveti.
Wohl gross war, Toggenburg, mein Schmerzgeselle,
          dein Leid, von meinem wird es übertroffen.
          Zuletzt ward sie gerührt, und du sahst offen
          dann jeden Tag das Fenster ihrer Zelle.
Vom Frührot, bis sie schwand des Tages Helle,
          sahst du zum Kloster hin mit sel'gem Hoffen,
          und als die letzte Stunde eingetroffen,
          hing noch der Blick an jener teu'ren Stelle.
Im Himmel ihrer Augen glaubt mit Schrecken
          mein Blick, wenn er sich wagt zu ihr zu heben,
          zwei droh'nde Flammenschwerter zu entdecken.
Flieh'n muss ich ihre Näh, in Angst stets beben,
          mein Anblick könnte ihren Unmut wecken,
          kein Hoffnungsstrahl erhellt mein düst'res Leben.

The poem is inspired by Schiller's sentimental ballad Ritter Toggenburg. The theme of the returned crusader whose beloved has become a nun and who builds himself a hut from which he can, once a day at evening, catch a glimpse of her is here made the basis of a Petrarchan conceit: the poet's suffering is even greater than that of Toggenburg, for he cannot even gaze upon his beloved. If he does so he sees in her eyes the two angry cherubs with flaming swords; he must flee her presence and lives without hope. The Slovene poem manages to avoid the pitfalls inherent in the sentimental theme through the firm directness of its diction. The German version, on the other hand, constantly weakens the effect by circumlocution or the addition of new concepts. To the straightforward statement of the first two lines (‘Great, Toggenburg, was the measure / of your suffering; mine surpasses it’) the, German translation adds the banal phrase ‘mein Schmerzgeselle’ and weakens the effect of the second half of line 2 by transforming it into the passive. The simple ‘zaúpljiv’ of line 8 becomes the rhetorical ‘mit sel'gem Hoffen’ in line 6 of the German version. ‘K nji’ (line 8) is similarly expanded to the equally banal ‘an jener teu'ren Stelle’. To the simple ‘Da bi ne žalil je’ there corresponds the more abstract ‘… könnte ihren Unmut wecken’. The cherubs of the Slovene poem have disappeared in the German. The striking ‘življenja noč’ has become the pedestrian phrase ‘mein düst'res Leben’. Thus what in the Slovene poem is direct and moving has been weakened in the German version to become rhetorical and sentimental. No doubt one reason for this is the difficulty of reproducing in German the succinct character of the highly inflected Slavonic original. In any case the German poem is recognizably a translation whose secondary character is apparent in comparison with the direct product of the poet's inspiration.

Sem dolgo upal in se bal,
slovo sem upu, strahu dal;
srce je prazno, srečno ni,
nazaj si up in strah želi.
Am Herzen hat Hoffnung, hat Furcht genagt;
nun hab' ich beiden Lebewohl gesagt.
Das Herz ist frei. Auch ruhig, glücklich? Nein.
Ach, zögen doch Hoffnung und Furcht wieder ein!

The discrepancy between the Slovene original and the German version becomes even more apparent in this second example. The Slovene poem is one of Prešeren's best and it was with full justification that he chose it as the epigraph for his collected poems (Poezije (Ljubljana, 1847)). The intense concision of the language and the compelling simplicity of metre and rhyme-scheme combine to express personal emotion in memorable form and to give it a universal dimension. Most of this has gone in the German version. As in Toggenburg the direct utterances of the original are watered down. In place of the straightforward ‘Sem dolgo upal in se bal’ (‘For a long time I hoped and feared’) we have hope and fear gnawing at the poet's heart. The effective repetition of the words for ‘hope’ and ‘fear’ gives way to the colourless ‘den beiden’. The lapidary statement of line 3 ‘Srce je prazno, srečno ni’ (literally ‘The heart is empty, it is not happy’), is replaced by the prosaic and at the same time rhetorical German version; and in the last line the calm, cold statement has become an unimpressive exclamation. Above all, the metre has been changed: the iambic octosyllables of the Slovene, with their dignified simplicity, have been transformed into a jog-trot dactylic rhythm which takes away such of the effect of the poem's content as still remains in the German text.

Of much greater interest are Prešeren's original German poems. The first that we know of is a ribald epigram of 1832 in which he ridicules his friend Matija Čop for being too subservient to Kopitar in matters of censorship.¹⁶ It is of interest that this distich was inspired by an epigram of A. W. Schlegel which had appeared in the previous year:¹⁷ this would seem to indicate that Prešeren was keeping abreast of German literary publications. This jeu d'esprit is however of little account compared with the series of German poems that appeared in 1833, 1834, and 1835. They form a central element in Prešeren's work and their origin, and the choice of language in which they are written, arise directly from the poet's personal experience.

By early 1833 Prešeren had already published a series of poems in his native language which far surpassed anything that had been previously written in Slovene. Some had appeared in Illyrisches Blatt, but others in the poetic almanach Krajnska čbelica, the newly established organ of the young Slovene writers of which three volumes appeared between 1830 and 1832.¹⁸ The fourth volume was ready for printing in February 1833 and contained several of Prešeren's best poems, including the moving Sonetje nesreče (Sonnets of Unhappiness). The local censors were persuaded by the good offices of Čop to give the volume their imprimatur, but further intrigues caused this to be revoked and the volume was sent to Vienna for Kopitar's decision. This set-back inspired Prešeren to write three bitter German sonnets which were to be published in Illyrisches Blatt. The third, a personal attack on Kopitar, was disallowed by the local censorship but the first two appeared on 15 June 1833.

Above them appeared the epigraph Getico scripsi sermone libellum. The poet's position is clear: like Ovid he is condemned to banishment, but banishment from his native language, a banishment all the more bitter because it is imposed on him in his own homeland. Like Ovid he writes in a language not his own, by implication a language of barbarians, in which perforce he must express his deepest feelings. These bitter feelings are expressed in the first sonnet:

Obschon die Lieder aus dem Vaterlande
          verbannt den Liebling römischer Kamönen,
          konnt' er sich des Gesanges nicht entwöhnen,
          war still sein Leid zu tragen nicht imstande.
Er lernte fremdes Wort im fremden Lande
          und klagte seinen herben Schmerz in Tönen,
          die er als Kind nie hörte, Szythiens Söhnen
          an des beeisten Isters rauhem Strande.
Da ich, wie er, nicht kann vom Dichten lassen,
          obwohl mein heimisch Lied mir nicht zum Frommen,
          nur Missgunst mir bereitet, blindes Hassen,
vergebt, dass ich ihm folgend unternommen,
          in Worte meinen innern Gram zu fassen,
          die ich von meiner Mutter nicht vernommen.

None of Prešeren's poems show his attachment to his native tongue as deeply as this poem written in words, as he puts it, which he had not heard from his mother. The second sonnet is an equally intense but more reasoned expression of the poet's pessimism as to his own and, by implication, his nation's future: only the blind can fight for a good cause; those whose eyes, like the poet's, have been opened by the painful light of reality can only despair of the future.

Formally these poems are most successful and show a complete mastery of the sonnet form. The language displays a rather classical idiom which was perhaps somewhat dated by the 1830s. Yet the combination of deeply felt emotion with strict form and dignified, allusive language results in poetry of unusual quality.

The struggle between the young intellectuals of Ljubljana and Kopitar continued in the form of polemical articles in Illyrisches Blatt. They were mainly concerned with questions of the Slovene literary language, and more particularly of its orthography, which do not concern us here. Prešeren's contribution was in the form of four poems attacking Kopitar which the censors allowed to be published on 27 July 1833. They consist of a Latin elegiac distich and three German poems, two sonnets and a four-line epigram. They are mordant and amusing but perhaps less successful than the brilliant Slovene epigrams he had written on linguistic and literary issues in 1831.

At Easter 1833 Prešeren had fallen in love with Julija Primic, daughter of a good middle-class Ljubljana family, and his unrequited passion for her inspired some of his most famous poems, notably the Sonetni venec (Garland of Sonnets) which appeared in a supplement to Illyrisches Blatt on 24 February 1834. He followed this up with four love sonnets in German which appeared in the same journal on 10 and 24 May of the same year. While the poet's reason for writing his polemical sonnets in German are clear enough it is not at first sight apparent why he should, at this stage in his life, write love-poetry in the foreign language. It is argued that he hoped to impress the girl's mother with the sincerity of his emotions (she was presumably more likely to read German than Slovene).¹⁹ This may be so, but in the text of the first German sonnet to Julija he gives a different reason.

Warum sie, wert, dass Sänger aller Zungen
          sie priesen von Homer an, dem Hellenen,
          indem sie keiner weicht von allen jenen,
          an die den Dichtern je ein Lied gelungen;
von welcher so mein tiefstes Sein durchdrungen,
          dass ihr allein geweihet all mein Sehnen,
          von mir nur in der Sprache der Slowenen,
          fragt ihr, nicht auch in deutscher wird besungen?
Deutsch sprechen in der Regel hier zu Lande
          die Herrinnen und Herren, die befehlen,
          slowenisch die, so von dem Dienerstande;
den strengsten Dienst dien' ich, den freie Seelen
          gedient, die Liebe schlug in ihre Bande,
          nicht darf ich gegen diese Sitte fehlen.

The servant of love, he says, must speak in the language of servants, and so his poems have hitherto been in Slovene. The conceit is admirably put; but behind it there is once again the bitterness, not merely of unrequited love, but of national pride. The servant is also a freie Seele and, by implication, Slovene, the language of servants, is also the tongue of free men. Moreover, the free soul has the right, or perhaps the duty, so the underlying argument seems to run, to speak also in the language of the masters.

Of the many personal misfortunes which he suffered, Prešeren was particularly deeply affected by the death of his friend Matija Čop who was drowned while bathing in the Sava on 6 July 1835. Less than three weeks later, on 25 July, Prešeren published in Illyrisches Blatt an elegy in terza rima entitled Dem Andenken des k. k. Lyceal-Bibliothekars in Laibach, Mathias Zhop. Again it is difficult to see why the very deep emotions aroused by the death of his friend and ally should have been expressed by Prešeren in the alien tongue. The wish to convey to a wider public a sense of Čop's merits and achievements and of his importance for the national cause may well have played a part. It is also possible however that Prešeren's choice of language was governed by the memory of a literary model. Goethe's lines written after looking at Schiller's skull²⁰ had appeared less than ten years earlier; the content of Goethe's poem is very different from that of Prešeren's, and yet each contains general reflections arising from the death of a friend and associate. Moreover, Prešeren's poem is written in the same metre as Goethe's, terzine rounded off by a four-line stanza rhyming abab. It was from German literary models that Prešeren had learned to write sonnets and epigrams. The influence of A. W. Schlegel is explicit. In this case the German formal model may have induced an imitation in the same language.

A detailed analysis of Prešeren's German style and a comparison with the style of his Slovene works remains to be made. Some obvious contrasts have already been indicated. In German he was writing in a language which the poets of classical Weimar and the generation of Romantics who succeeded them had developed into one of the great literary languages of Europe but which was, by the 1820s, already somewhat stereotyped and in need of renewal. The Slovene literary language, on the other hand, was almost entirely lacking in earlier traditions and was indeed in part being created by Prešeren's own writings. It thus had a freshness and immediacy which older and more cultivated literary languages can hardly attain. It is not therefore surprising that his poetic genius is more vividly apparent in his Slovene poems; yet even if these did not exist Prešeren would have a modest but honourable place in the history of German literature.

Prešeren's last major poem in German appeared in Illyrisches Blatt on 7 April 1838 with the title An die Slowenen die in deutscher Sprache dichten:

Ihr, die entsprossen aus dem Slawenstamme,
          die ihr, der eig'nen Mutter lang entzogen,
          die Bildung nicht an ihrer Brust gesogen,
          die man, wie mich, vertraut der deutschen Amme!
Nicht glaubet, dass ich euch deshalb verdamme,
          dass dankbar der Germanin ihr gewogen;
          nur dass sie wird der Mutter vorgezogen,
          das ist's, was in mir weckt des Zornes Flamme.
Der wahren Mutter soll und muss sie weichen;
          doch mein' ich, dass es ziemt dem Pflegesohne,
          der Pflegerin ein Dankgeschenk zu reichen.
Von edlem Erz, nicht von gemeinem Tone
          sei doch das, was er bringt der überreichen,
          die auf Armseligkeiten blickt mit Hohne.

The subject could easily give rise to sentiments of a rather banal nationalism, but Prešeren's treatment is much more subtle. It is not wrong to write in German, he says, though Slovenes should give preference to their native tongue. But if Slovene is the mother, German is the wet-nurse who deserves gratitude and the tribute of poetry. Moreover, this tribute should be of the highest quality, as befits the merits of the German language. A balanced judgement of this kind would be hard to find among the writers of other bilingual areas of east-central Europe in the period of their national revival.

Notes

1. Leonard Forster, The Poet's Tongues: Multilingualism in Literature (Dunedin, 1970).

2. Op. cit., xii.

3. They have been admirably analysed by two bilingual writers of Prague: Pavel Eisner, Okusy Ignáce Máchy (Prague, 1956), and Otokar Fischer, ‘K. H. Máchas deutsche Anfänge und der Kreis um Alois Klar’, Xenia pragensia Ernesto Kraus septuagenario et Josepho Janko sexagenario ab amicis collegis discipulis oblata (Prague, 1929), 233-59.

4. See Pavel Eisner, op. cit. (n. 3), 11.

5. ‘… nyní jsem již jedl se stromu národnosti trpké a bolest ducha pdusobící ovoce’. Jan Kollár, ‘Paměti z mladších let života’, in Vybrané spisy Jana Kollára. ii. Prózy, ed. F. R. Tichý (Prague, 1956), 202.

6. See László Sziklay, Az ifjú Hviezdoslav (= Irodalomtörténeti füzetek 50) (Budapest, 1965), and ‘Hviezdoslavove mad'arské prvotiny’, Slovenská literatúra iii (1956), 37-68.

7. See Antun Barac, Hrvatska književnost od preporoda do stvaranja Jugoslavije. Književnost ilirizma (Zagreb, 1954), 287-301, especially 289.

8. Pavel Eisner, op. cit. (n. 3). Eisner seems here to have confused Prešeren with Preradović.

9. Prešeren's poems, both Slovene and German, will be quoted here from France Prešeren, Poezije in pisma uredil Anton Slodnjak (Ljubljana, 1968), hereinafter referred to as PP. For the dating of individual poems see especially Francè Kidrič, Prešeren I. Pesnitve, Pisma (Ljubljana, 1968) and, for the period to 1838, Francè Kidrič, Prešeren II. Biografija 1800-1838 (Ljubljana, 1938).

10. For a fuller account of the Slovene language-revival see R. Auty, ‘The formation of the Slovene literary language against the background of the Slavonic national revival’, Slavonic and East European Review, xli (1963), 391-402.

11. Details of the censorship procedure are given by Anton Slodnjak in his introduction (Spremna beseda) to Krajnska zhbeliza I-V, 1830-1848. Faksimile prve izdaje (= Alfonz Gspan et al. (eds.), Monumenta litterarum slovenicarum, 6) (Ljubljana, 1969).

12. PP, 307-8.

13. All printed in PP, 307-60. The second Slovene letter was written to the Czech writer F. L. Čelakovský on 14 March 1833 (PP, 323-4). The rest of Prešeren's preserved correspondence with Čelakovský is in German.

14. All Prešeren's original German poems (but not his translations of his own or others' work) have been reprinted, together with admirable Slovene translations by the twentieth-century poet Oton Župančič, in Janko Glazer (ed.), Prešernove nemške poezije (= Slovenska akademija znanosti in umetnosti, Razred za filološke in literarne vede, Dela 2) (Ljubljana, 1950).

15. Emil Korytko, a Galician Pole who had been deported to Ljubljana by the Austrian authorities.

16. Viel kratzfüsselnder Bücklinge macht Freund Čóp dem Kopitar,
              lasst kein Fürzelein los, eh' er geschrieben nach Wien.

    (PP, 312).

17. Viel kratzfüsselnde Bücklinge macht dem gewaltigen Goethe
              Schiller; dem schwächlichen nickt Goethes olympisches Haupt.

    Here quoted from A. W. von Schlegel, Sämmtliche Werke, herausgegeben von Eduard Böcking. Bd. 2 (Leipzig, 1846), 204.

18. See n. 11 above.

19. Slodnjak, Prešernovo življenje (Ljubljana, 1968), 162-3.

20. ‘Im ernsten Beinhaus wars, wo ich beschaute …’ (Goethe, Lyrische und epische Dichtungen, Bd. ii (Wiesbaden, 1958), 394).