might suggest. It is, however, more serious than the _Klage_, which is really a _debat_ (as the technical term in French poetry then went) between Body and Soul, and of no unusual kind. [Sidenote: Der Arme Heinrich.] Fortunately for Hartmann, he has left another work, _Der Arme Heinrich_, which is thought to be his last, and is certainly his most perfect. It is almost a pity that Longfellow, in his adaptation of it, did not stick closer to the original; for pleasant as _The Golden Legend_ is, it is more of a pastiche and mosaic than _Der Arme Heinrich_, one of the simplest, most direct, and most touching of mediaeval poems. Heinrich (also Von Aue) is a noble who, like Sir Isumbras and other examples of the no less pious than wise belief of the Middle Ages in Nemesis, forgets God and is stricken for his sin with leprosy. He can only recover by the blood of a pure maiden; and half despairing of, half revolting at, such a cure, he gives away all his property but one farm, and lives there in misery. The farmer's daughter learns his doom and devotes herself. Heinrich refuses for a time, but yields: and they travel to Salerno, where, as the sacrifice is on the point of completion, Heinrich sees the maiden's face through a crack in the doctor's room-wall, feels the impossibility of allowing her to die, and stops the crime. He is rewarded by a cure as miraculous as was his harm; recovers his fortune, and marries the maiden. A later termination separates them again; but this is simply the folly and bad taste of a certain, and only a certain, perversion of mediaeval sentiment, the crowning instance of which is found in _Guy of Warwick_. Hartmann himself was no such simpleton; and (with only an infinitesimal change of a famous sentence) we may be sure that as he was a good lover so he made a good end to his story. [Sidenote: _Wolfram von Eschenbach._] [Sidenote: Titurel.]