The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 08 - Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English. in Twenty - Volumes by Various
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page 11 of 570 (01%)
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strict that at times a sensitive reader is tempted to hold his nose. It
is to be regretted that so great a genius in his outspoken preference for all that is characteristic should have been so partial to the rude, the crude, and the brutal. For Gotthelf's literary influence--which, to be sure, did not make itself felt at once--has misled many less original writers to consider these qualities as essential to naturalistic style. Very largely in consequence of his indifference to form and the naturalistic tendencies mentioned--for to all intents and purposes Gotthelf must be regarded as the precursor of naturalism--the Swiss writer did not gain immediate recognition in the world of letters, and the credit rightfully belonging to him fell, as already mentioned, to Berthold Auerbach (1812-1882), a native of the village of Nordstetten in the Württemberg portion of the Black Forest. From 1843-1853 Auerbach published his _Black Forest Village Stories_, which at once became the delight of the reading public. Auerbach himself claimed the distinction of being the originator of this new species of narrative--an honor which was also claimed by Alexander Weill, because of his _Sittengemälde aus dem Elsass_ ("Genre Paintings from Alsace," 1843). While Gotthelf had written only for his peasants, without any regard for others, Auerbach wrote for the same general readers of fiction as the then fashionable writers did. So far as his popularity among the readers of the times and his influence on other authors are concerned, Auerbach has a certain right to the coveted title, for a whole school of village novelists followed at his heels; and his name must remain inseparably connected with the history of the novel of provincial life. The impression his stories made everywhere was so strong as to beggar description. They afforded the genuine delight that we get from murmuring brooks and flowering meadows--although the racy smell of the soil that is wafted toward us from the pages of Gotthelf's writings is |
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