Chapter XI (1)

RISE OF THE NATION.
(1807-1815.)

The greatest blessing which Reformers leave behind them to succeeding generations seldom lies in that which they themselves consider as the fruit of their earthly life, nor in the dogmas for which they have contended, suffered and conquered, and been blessed and cursed by their contemporaries. It is not their system which has the lasting effect, but the numerous sources of new life, which through their labour is brought to light from the depths of the popular mind. The new system which Luther opposed to the old church, lost a portion of its constructive power a few years after he had laid his head to rest. But that which, during his great conflict with the hierarchy, he had done to rouse independence of mind in his people, to increase the feeling of duty, to raise the morals and to found discipline and culture, the impress of his soul in every domain of ideal life, remained in the severe struggles of the following century, an indestructible gain from which at last grew a fulness of new life. The system also of Frederic the Great, not many years after his death, was discarded by a foreign conqueror as an imperfect invention; but again the best result of his life remained an enduring acquisition for Prussia and Germany. He had called forth in thousands of his officials and soldiers zeal and faithfulness to duty, and in millions of his subjects devotion to his family; he had, as a wise political husbandman, sown everywhere the seed of intellectual and material prosperity. This was what remained to his State, the excellent cultivated soil from which the new life was to blossom. When his army was crushed, the country overrun by strangers, and the pangs of bitter need compelled men to seek the means of supporting life wherever they could find them, then in the midst of all this desolation arose a new power in the nation, their capacity for work. Even the rapidity and completeness with which the old system broke down, melancholy as it was to behold, was, nevertheless, fortunate; for though it did not cast aside suddenly all the upholders of the old system, yet it averted the greater danger of their resistance. It now became evident how great was the material to be found in Prussia, not only among officials and officers, but in the people itself. Unexampled was the fall, and equally unexampled was the recovery.

The nation was stunned; it looked listlessly on the shipwreck of its State; it had always received its impulse from the government. In the chaotic confusion that now followed, there seemed no hope of rescue; the weak cursed the bad government, the superficial viewed maliciously the prostration of the unintellectual and privileged orders, and the weakest followed the star of the conqueror. Men of warm feeling secluded themselves like Steffens, who wrote a sorrowful ode on the fall of the Fatherland; but cooler heads investigated sullenly the defects of the old system, and with bitterness condemned alike the good and bad.

The misery becomes greater, it is the intention of the Emperor to open all the veins, and draw blood from that portion of Prussia to which he has left a semblance of life. Exorbitant are the contributions. The French army is distributed over the country--it occupies cantonments in Silesia and the March; officers and soldiers are billeted upon the citizens--they are to be fed and entertained. At the cost of the district a table d'hote is to be established, and balls given. The soldier is to be compensated for the hardships of war. We are the conquerors, exclaim the officers arrogantly. There is no law against their brutality, or the impudence with which they disturb the peace of families in which they now rule as masters. If they are polite to the ladies of the house, that does not make them more acceptable to the men. Still worse is the conduct of the Generals and Marshals.

Prince Jerome has his head-quarters at Breslau, and there keeps a dissolute court; the people still relate how licentiously he lived, and daily bathed in a cask of wine. At Berlin, General-Intendant Daru raises his demands higher every month. Even the humiliating conditions of the peace are still too good for Prussia; the tyrant scornfully alters the schedules. The fortresses are not restored, as was promised; with refined cruelty the war charges are increased enormously. They have drawn from the country, which still bears the name of Prussia, more than 200 millions of thalers in six years.

On trade and commerce, also, the new system lays its destroying hand. By the Continental system, imports and exports are almost abolished. Manufactories are stationary, and the circulation of money stagnates; the number of bankrupts becomes alarmingly great: even the necessaries of daily life are exorbitantly high; the multitude of poor increases frightfully; even in the great cities the troops of hungry souls that traverse the streets can scarcely be controlled. The more wealthy also restrict their wants to the smallest possible compass; they begin a voluntary discipline in their own life, denying themselves small enjoyments to which they are accustomed. Instead of coffee, they drink roasted acorns, and eat black and rye bread; large societies bind themselves to use no sugar, and the housewife no longer preserves fruit. As Ludwig von Vincke, who then resided as a landed proprietor in the new grand-dukedom of Berg, pertinaciously smoked coltsfoot instead of tobacco, and made his wine of black currants, so did others renounce the necessaries on which the foreign tyrant had imposed a monopoly.

But philosophy begins its great work, bringing blessing upon the State, by purifying and elevating the minds of men. While the French drum was beating in the streets of Berlin, and the spies of the stranger were lurking about the houses, Fichte delivered his discourses on the German nation: a new and powerful race was to be trained, the national character to be improved, and lost freedom to be regained.

From the extreme east of the State, where now the greatest strength of the Prussian bureaucracy is at the head of affairs, a new organisation of the people began. Serfdom was abolished, landed property made free, and self-government established in the cities. The exclusiveness of classes was broken, privileges done away with, and a new constitution for the army was prepared by Colonel Scharnhorst. Whatever power of life there was in the people was now to have free play.

In the year 1808, Prussia was no longer fainthearted; it began to raise its head hopefully, and looked about for aid. The first political society formed itself; "_tugendbund_,"[46] education unions, scientific societies, and officers' clubs, all had the same object--to free their Fatherland, and to educate the people for an approaching struggle. There was much trifling and immoderate zeal displayed, but they included a large number of patriotic men. Messengers ran actively with secret papers, but it was difficult for the unpractised associates to deceive the spies of the enemy. Dark plans of revenge were proposed in many of these unions; and desperate men hoped, by a great crime, to save the Fatherland.

Hopes rise higher the following year: the war has begun in Spain; Austria prepares itself for the most heroic struggle that it has ever undertaken. In Prussia, also, the ground is hollow beneath the feet of the stranger; all is prepared for an outbreak; and the Police President, Justice Gruener, is one of the most active leaders of the movement. But it is not possible to unite Prussia with Austria; the first great rising of the people wastes itself in single hopeless attempts. Schill, Doernberg, the Duke of Brunswick, and the rising in Silesia fail. The battle of Wagram destroys the last hope of Austria's help.

The courage of many sinks, but not of the best. Unweariedly do the friends of the Fatherland exercise themselves in the use of fire-arms; the Prussian army, also, which does not amount to more than 42,000 men, is secretly increased to more than double that number; and in all the military workshops the soldiers sit as artisans working at the equipments for a future war.

A second time do the hopes of the people rise; Napoleon prepares himself for war against Russia. Again is the time come when a struggle is possible; already does Hardenberg venture to tell the French ambassador, St. Marsan, that Prussia will not allow itself to be crushed, and will encounter a foreign attack with 100,000 soldiers. But the King will not resolve upon a desperate resistance; he gives the half of his standing army as aid to the French Emperor. Then 300 officers leave his service, and hasten to Russia, there to fight against Napoleon. And again hope diminishes in Prussia, freedom seems removed to an immeasurable distance.

Violent has the hatred against the foreign Emperor become in northern Germany; above all, west of the Elbe, where his ceaseless wars have sacrificed the youth of the country. The conscription is there considered as the death lot. The price of a substitute has risen to two thousand thalers. In all the streets, mourning attire is to be seen, worn by parents for their lost sons. But most violent of all is the hatred in Prussia, in every vocation of life, in every house it calls to the struggle. Everything that is pure and good in Germany--language, poetry, philosophy, and morals--work silently against Napoleon. Everything that is bad, corrupt, and wicked, all duplicity and cruelty, calumny, knavishness and brutal violence, is considered as Gallic and Corsican. Like the fantastic Jahn, other eager spirits call the Emperor no longer by his name: they speak of him as once they did of the devil, as "he," or with a contemptuous expression as Bonaparte.

Thus had six years hardened the character in Prussia.

It was no longer a great State that in the spring of 1813 armed itself for a struggle of life and death. What remained of Prussia only comprehended 4,700,000. This small nation in the first campaign brought into the field an army of 247,000 men, reckoning one out of nineteen of the whole population. The significance of this is clear, when one reckons that an equal effort on the part of Prussia as it is, with its eighteen millions of inhabitants, would give the enormous amount of 950,000 soldiers for an army in the field.[47] And this calculation conveys only the relative number of men, not the proportion of the then and present wealth of the country.

It was a much impoverished nation that entered upon the war. Merchants, manufacturers, and artisans, had for six years struggled fearlessly against the hard times. The agriculturist had his barns emptied, and his best horses taken from his stables; the debased coin that circulated in the country disturbed the interior commerce even with the nearest neighbours, the thalers which had been saved from a better time had long been spent. In the mountain valleys the people were famishing; on the line of march of the great armies even the commonest necessaries of life were failing; teams and seed had been wanting to the countryman as early as 1807; in 1812 there was the same distress.

It is true that there was bitter sorrow among the people over the downfall of Prussia, and deep hatred against the Emperor of the French. But it would be doing great injustice to the Prussians to consider their rising as more especially occasioned by the fiery passion of resentment. More than once, both in ancient and modern times, has a city or small nation carried on its desperate death-struggle to the last extremity; more than once we have been filled with astonishment at the wild heroic courage and self-devotion which have led men to voluntary death in the flames of their own houses, or under the fire of the enemy. But this lofty power of resistance is not perhaps free from a certain degree of fanaticism, which inflames the soul almost to madness. Of this there is no trace in the Prussians. On the contrary, there was a cheerful serenity throughout the whole nation which seems very touching to us. It arose from faith in their own strength, confidence in a good cause, and, above all, in an innocent youthful freshness of feeling.

For the German, this period in the life of his nation has a special significance. It was the first time that for many centuries political enthusiasm had burst forth in bright flames among the people. For centuries there had been in Germany nations of individuals, living under the government of princes, for which they had no love or honour, and in which they took no active share. Now, in the hour of greatest danger, the people claimed its own inalienable right in the State. It threw its whole strength voluntarily and joyfully into a death-struggle to preserve its State from destruction.

This struggle has a still higher significance for Prussia and its royal house. In the course of a hundred and fifty years the Hohenzollerns, by uniting unconnected provinces as one State, had formed their subjects into a nation. A great prince, and the costly victories, and brilliant success of the house, had excited a feeling of love in the new nation for their princes. Now the government of a Hohenzollern had been too weak to preserve the inheritance of his father. Now did the people, whom his ancestors had created, rise and give to the last effort that its prince could make, a direction and a grandeur which forced the King from his state of prostration almost against his will. The Prussian people paid with its blood to the race of its princes the debt of gratitude that it owed the Hohenzollerns for the greatness and prosperity which they had procured for it. This faithful and dutiful devotion arose from feeling that the life and true interests of the royal house were one with the people.

But in the glow of popular feeling in 1813 there was something peculiar, which already appears strange to us. When a great political idea fills a people, we can now accurately define the stages through which it must pass before it can be condensed into a firm resolve. The press begins to teach and to excite; those of like minds assemble together at public meetings, and the discourse of an enthusiastic speaker exercises its influence. Gradually the number of those who are interested increases; from the strife of different views, which contend together in public, is developed a knowledge of what is necessary, an insight into the ways and means, the will to meet such requirements, and, lastly, self-sacrifice and devotion. Of this gradual growth of the popular mind through public life there is scarcely a trace in 1813. What worked upon the nation externally was of another kind. The feeling was excited by a single great moment; but, in general, a tranquillity rested on the nation which one may well call epic. The feeling of millions burst forth simultaneously; not abounding in words, without any imposing appearance, still quiet, but, like one of nature's forces, irresistible There is a pleasure in observing its course in certain great moments. It shall be here portrayed, not as it shines forth in prominent characters, but as it appears in the life of minor personages.

It was after New Year's Day, 1813. The parting year had left a severe winter as a heritage to the new one, but, in a moderate-sized city in Prussia, the people stood in crowds before the post-office. Happy was he who could first carry home a newspaper. Short and cautious were the accounts of the events of the day, for in Berlin there was a French military governor, who watched every expression of the intimidated press. Nevertheless, the news of the fate of the great army had long penetrated into the most remote huts; first came vague reports of danger and suffering, the account of a tremendous fire in Moscow and flames up to the skies, which had risen, as from the earth, around the Emperor; then of a flight through snow and desert plains, of hunger and indescribable misery. Cautiously did the people speak of it, for the French not only occupied the capital and fortresses of the country, but had also in the provinces their agents, spies, and hated informers, whom the citizens avoided. Within a few days it was known that the Emperor himself had fled from his army; in an open sledge, disguised as Duke of Vicenza, and, with only one follower, he had travelled day and night through Prussia. On the 12th of December, about eight o'clock in the evening, he arrived at Glogau, there he reposed for an hour, and started again about ten o'clock, in spite of the terrible cold. The following morning he entered the castle of Hanau, where the posting-station then was. The resolute post-mistress, Kramtsch, recognised him, and with violent gestures swore she would give him no tea, but rather another drink. At the earnest representations of those around her, she was softened so far as to pour some camomile tea into a pot with a vehement oath; he, however, drank of it, and went on to Dresden. Now he had come to Paris, and it was told in the newspapers how happy Paris was, how tenderly his wife and son had greeted him, how well he was, and that he had already, on the 27th of December, been to hear the beautiful opera of "Jerusalem Delivered." It was said further that the great army, in spite of the unfavourable time of year, would return in fearful masses through Prussia, and that the Emperor was making new preparations. But the trial of General Mallet was also reported; and it was known how impudently the French newspapers lied.

It was seen, also, what remained of the great army. In the first days of the year the snow fell in flakes; it lay like a shroud over the country. A train of men moved slowly and noiselessly along the high road to the first houses of the suburb. It was the returning French. Only a year ago, they had set forth at sunrise, with the sound of trumpets, and the rattle of drums, in warlike splendour, and with revolting arrogance. Endless had been the procession of troops; day after day, without ceasing, the masses had rolled through the streets of the city; never had the people seen so prodigious an army, of all nations of Europe, with every kind of uniform, and hundreds of Generals. The gigantic power of the Emperor sank deep into all souls, the military spectacle still filled the fancy with its splendour and its terrors.

But there was also an undefined expectation of a fearful fate. For a whole month did this endless passage of troops last; like locusts the strangers consumed everything in the country, from Kolberg to Breslau. There had been a failure of the harvest in 1811, scarcely had the country-people been able to save the seed oats, and these were eaten in 1812 by the French war horses. They devoured the last blade of grass and the last bundle of straw; the villagers had to pay sixteen thalers for a shock of chopped straw, and two thalers for a hundredweight of hay. And greedily as the animals, did the men consume; from the Marshal down to the common French soldier, they were insatiable. King Jerome had demanded for his maintenance at Glogau, a not very large town, four hundred thalers daily. The Duke of Abrantes had for a month seventy-five thalers daily; the officers obliged the wife of a poor village pastor to cook their ham with red wine; they drank the richest cream out of the pitchers, and poured essence of cinnamon over it; the common soldiers, also, even to the drummer, blustered if they did not have two courses at dinner. They ate like madmen. But even then the people prognosticated that they would not so return. And they said so themselves. When formerly they had marched to war with their Emperor their horses had neighed whenever they were led from the stable, but now they hung their heads sorrowfully; formerly the crows and ravens flew the contrary way to the army of the Emperor, now these birds of the battle-field accompanied the army to the east, expecting their prey.[48]

But those who now returned came in a more pitiable condition than anyone had dreamed of. It was a herd of poor wretches who had entered upon their last journey--they were wandering corpses. A disorderly multitude of all races and nations collected together; without a drum or word of command, and silent as a funeral procession, they approached the city. They were all without weapons or horses, none in perfect uniform, their clothes, ragged and dirty, mended with patches from the dress of peasants and their wives. They had hung over their heads and shoulders whatever they could lay hands on, as a covering against the deadly penetrating cold; old sacks, torn horse-clothes, carpets, shawls, and the fresh skins of cats and dogs; Grenadiers were to be seen in large sheepskins. Cuirassiers wearing women's dresses of coloured baize, like Spanish mantles. Few had helmets or shakos; they wore every kind of head-dress, coloured and white nightcaps like the peasants, drawn low over their faces, a handkerchief or a bit of fur as a protection to their ears, and handkerchiefs also over the lower part of their face; and yet the ears and noses of most were frost-bitten or fiery red, and their dark eyes were almost extinguished in their cavities. Few had either shoe or boot; fortunate was he who could go through that miserable march with felt socks or large fur shoes, and the feet of many were enveloped in straw, rags, the covering of knapsacks, or the felt of an old hat. All tottered, supported by sticks, lame and limping. The Guards even were little different from the rest; their mantles were scorched, only their bear-skin caps gave them still a military aspect. Thus did officers and soldiers, one with another, crawl along with bent heads, in a state of gloomy stupefaction. All had become forms of horror from hunger, frost, and indescribable misery.

Day after day they came along the high road, generally as soon as twilight and the iron winter fog were spread over the houses. Demoniacal was the effect of these noiseless apparitions of horrible figures, terrible the sufferings they brought with them; the people asserted that warmth could not be restored to their bodies, nor their craving hunger allayed. If they were taken into a warm room, they thrust themselves violently against the hot stove, as if they would get into it, and in vain did the compassionate women endeavour to keep them away from the dangerous heat. Greedily they devoured the dry bread, and some would not leave off till they died. Till after the battle of Leipzig, the people were under the belief that they had been smitten by Heaven with eternal hunger. Even then it occurred that the prisoners, when close to their hospital, roasted for themselves pieces of dead horses, although they had already received the regular hospital food; still, therefore, did the citizens maintain that it was a hunger specially inflicted by God; once they had thrown beautiful wheat-sheaves into their camp fire, and had scattered good bread on the dirty floor, now they were condemned never to be satiated by any human food.[49]

Everywhere in the cities, along the road of the army, hospitals were prepared for the homeward bound, and immediately all the sick wards were overflowing, and virulent fevers annihilated the last strength of the unfortunates. Countless were the corpses carried out, and the citizens had to be careful that the infection did not penetrate into their houses. Any of the foreigners that could, after the necessary rest, crept home weary and hopeless. But the boys in the streets sang, "Knights without swords, knights without horses, fugitives without shoes, find nowhere rest and repose. God has struck man, horse, and carriage," and behind the fugitives they yelled the mocking call, "The Cossacks are coming." Then there was a movement of horror in the flying mass, and they quickly tottered on through the gates.

These were the impressions of 1813. Meanwhile the newspapers announced that General York had concluded the convention of Tauroggin with the Russian Wittgenstein, and the Prussians read with dismay that the King had rejected the stipulations, and dismissed the General from his command. But immediately after it was said that he could not be in earnest, for the King had left Berlin, where his precious head was no longer safe among the French, and gone to Breslau. Now there were some hopes.

In the Berlin paper of 4th March, among the foreign arrivals were still French Generals; but the same day Herr von Tschernischef, commander of a corps of cavalry, entered the capital in peaceful array.

It had been known for three months that the Russian winter, and the army of the Emperor Alexander, had destroyed the great army. Already had Gropius, at Christmas, introduced a diorama of the burning of Moscow. For some weeks many of the new books had treated of Russia, giving descriptions of the people; Russian manuals and Russian national music were in vogue. Whatever came from the east was glorified by the excited minds of the people. Nothing more so than the vanguard of the foreign army, the Cossacks. Next the frost and hunger, they were considered the conquerors of the French. Wonderful stories of their deeds preceded them, they were said to be half wild men, of great simplicity of manners, of remarkable heartiness, indescribable dexterity, astuteness, and valour. It was reported how active their horses were, how irresistible their attacks, that they could swim through great rivers, climb the steepest hills, and bear the most horrible cold with good courage.

On the 17th February, they appeared in the neighbourhood of Berlin; after that, they were expected daily in the cities which lay further to the west; daily did the boys go out of the gates to spy out whether a troop of them could be descried coming. When, at last, their arrival was announced, young and old streamed through the streets. They were welcomed with joyful acclamations, eagerly did citizens carry to them whatever would rejoice the hearts of the strangers; it was thought that brandy, sauerkraut, and herrings would suit their national taste. Everything about them was admired; their strong, thick beards, long dark hair, thick sheepskins, wide blue trowsers, and their weapons, pikes, long Turkish pistols, often of costly work, which they wore in broad leather girdles round their bodies, and the crooked Turkish sabre. With transport were they watched when they supported themselves on their lances and vaulted nimbly over thick cushion saddles, which served at the same time as sacks for their mantles; or couched their lances, urging on their lean horses with loud hurrahs; and, again, when they fastened their lances by a thong to the arm and trotted along, swinging that foreign instrument, the kantschu, to the astonishment of the youths--everyone stepped aside and looked at them with respect. All were enchanted also with their style of riding. They bent themselves down to the ground at full gallop, and lifted up the smallest objects. At the quickest pace they whirled their pikes round their heads, and hit with certainty any object at which they aimed. Astonishment soon changed to a feeling of intimacy; they quickly won the heart of the people. They were particularly friendly to the young, raised the children on their horses, and rode with them round the market-place; they sang in families in what was supposed to be the Cossack's style. Every boy became either a Cossack, or a Cossack's horse. Some of the customs, indeed, of these heroic friends were rather unpleasant, they were ill-mannered enough to pilfer, and at their night quarters it was plainly perceptible that they were not clean. Nevertheless, there long remained a fantastic glitter about them among both friends and foes, even when in the struggles that were now carried on among civilised men, they showed themselves to be plunderers, not trustworthy, and little serviceable. When later they returned home from the war, it was remarked that they had much degenerated.

The newspapers were only delivered three times in the week, and the roads from the spring thaw then were very bad; thus the news came slowly at intervals through the provinces, where it was not stopped by the march of troops and the confusion of the struggle between the advancing Russians and retreating French. But every sheet, every report that conveyed new information, was received with eager sympathy. It was talked of in families, and in all the society of the cities, but the excitement was seldom expressed with any vehemence. There was a pathetic feeling in all hearts, but it no longer showed itself in words and gestures. For a century the Germans had found pleasure in their tears, had given vent to much feeling about nothing; now that great objects engrossed their life they were calm, there was no speechifying, with bated breath they restrained the disquiet of their hearts. If important news came, the master of the house announced it to his family, and quietly wiped away the tears that were in his eyes. This tranquillity and self-control was the peculiarity of that time.

Small flying sheets were read with delight, especially what the faithful Arndt addressed to his countrymen. New songs spread through the country, in small parts, according to the custom of the ballad-singers, "printed this year;" generally bad and coarse, full of hate and scorn, they were forerunners of the beautiful poetic effusions of youthful vigor which were sung some months later by the Prussian battalions when they went to battle. The best of these songs were sung in families to the harpsichord, or the husband played the melody on the flute--which was then a favourite domestic instrument--and the mother sang the words with her children; for weeks this was the great evening amusement. These verses had more effect on the smaller circles of the people than on the more cultivated, they soon supplanted the old street songs. Sometimes the citizens bought the frightful caricatures of Napoleon and his army which then were sold through the country as flying-sheets, but often betrayed, by their Parisian dialect, that they were composed by the French. The coarseness and malicious vulgarity which now offend us, were easily overlooked, because they served to express hatred; it was only in the larger cities that they occupied the people in the streets, in the country they exercised little influence.

Such was the disposition of the people when they received the proclamations of their King, which between the 3rd of February and the 17th of March, calling out first volunteer riflemen, and then the Landwehr, put the whole defensive force of Prussia under arms. Like a spring storm that breaks the ice, they penetrated the souls of the people. The flood rose high, all hearts beat with emotion of pleasure and proud hope; and again at this moment of highest elevation, we find the same simplicity and quiet composure. There were not many words, but quick decision. The volunteers collected quietly in the towns of their provinces, and marched, singing energetically, to the chief cities, Koenigsberg, Breslau, and Colberg, and then to Berlin. The clergy announced in their churches the proclamation of the King, but it was hardly necessary. The people knew already what they were to do. When a young theologian, taking his father's place, admonished his parishioners from the pulpit to do their duty, and added that these were not empty words, for, as soon as the service was over, he himself would volunteer as a Hussar, a number of young men stood up in the church and declared they would do the same. When a betrothed hesitated to separate himself from his intended, and at last made known his resolve to go, she told him she had secretly lamented that he had not been one of the first to depart. Sons hastened to the army, and wrote to their parents to tell them of their hasty decision, and the parents approved; it was not surprising to them that their sons had done spontaneously what was only their duty. When a youth had made his way to one of the places of meeting, he found his brother already there, who had come from the other side of the country; they had not even written to one another.

The academies for lectures were closed at Koenigsberg, Berlin, and Breslau. The University of Halle, also, still under Westphahan rule, was closed; the students had gone, either singly or in small bands, to Breslau. The Prussian newspapers mentioned laconically in two lines, "Almost all the students from Halle, Jena, and Goettingen, are come to Breslau, they wish to share in the fame of fighting for German freedom."

At the gymnasium the taller and older ones were not considered always the best scholars, and the teachers of the Greek grammar had looked upon them with contempt; now they were the pride and envy of the school, the teachers gave them a hearty shake of the hand, and the younger ones looked on them with admiration as they departed. But it was not only those in the first bloom of youth who were excited to enter into the struggle, but also the officials, those indispensable servants of the State, judges and councillors, men from every circle of the civil service, from the city courts and the departments of government. A royal decree on the 2nd March set limits to this zeal, and it was necessary, for the order and administration of the State were threatened. The civil service could not be neglected; any one who wished to be a soldier was to obtain the permission of his superiors, and he who could not bear the refusal of his request must appeal to the King. The stronger minded in all circles were at the head of the movement, but the weaker followed at last the overpowering impulse. There were few families who did not offer their sons to the fatherland; many great names stand on the regimental lists; above all, the nobles of east Prussia. The same Alexander Count von Dohna-Schlobitten who had been minister of the interior in 1802, was the first man who inscribed himself in the Landwehr battalion of the Mohrungen district. Wilhelm Ludwig Count von der Groeben, chamberlain of Prince William, entered into Prince William's dragoons as a subaltern officer, three of his family fell on the field of battle in this war. Such examples influenced the country people. Multitudes of them gave to the State all that they possessed--their sound limbs.

Whilst the Prussians on the Vistula in this emergency carried on their preparations independently with rapidly developed order and the greatest devotion, Breslau, from the middle of February, had been the rendezvous for the interior districts. Crowds of volunteers entered all the gates of the old city. Among the first were thirteen miners, with three apprentices from Waldenburg; these men had been fitted out by their fellow labourers, poor men, who had worked gratuitously underground until they had collected 221 thalers for this purpose. Immediately afterwards the Upper Silesian miners followed with similar zeal. The King could scarcely believe in such self-sacrificing devotion in the people; when he looked from the windows of the government buildings on the first long train of vehicles and men, who came past him from the march and filled the Albrech-strasse, heard their acclamations, and perceived the general satisfaction, tears rolled over his cheeks, and Scharnhorst asked him whether he at last believed in the zeal of his people.

Every day the throng increased. Fathers presented their sons armed; among the first the Geheime Kriegsrath Eichmann equipped two sons, and the former Secretary of Hangwitz, Buerder, three. The provincial Syndic Elsner at Ratisbon offered himself, and armed three volunteer riflemen; Geheime Commerzienrath Krause at Swinemund, sent a mounted rifleman, entirely armed, with forty ducats, and an offer to arm, and pay for a year, twenty foot riflemen, and to furnish ten pigs of lead. Justizrath Eckart, at Berlin, gave up his salary of 1450 thalers, and entered the service as a trooper. One Rothkirch offered himself and two men fully equipped as troopers, besides five horses, 300 scheffels of corn, and all the cart-horses on his farm for the baggage-waggons. Amongst the most zealous was Heinrich von Krosigk, the eldest of an old family of Poplitz, near Alsleben. His property lay in the kingdom of Westphalia. In 1807, he had a pillar erected in his park of red sandstone, with these words engraven on it, "_Fuimus Troes_," and treated the French and the government of Westphalia with bitter contempt. When officers were quartered on him, he always gave the worst wine, drinking the best with his friends as soon as the strangers were gone, and if a Frenchman complained, he was rude and ready to fight; he had always loaded pistols on his table. At last he compelled his peasants to arrest the gendarmes of his own King. Now he had just broken out of the fortress of Magdeburg, where the French had placed him, and had abandoned his property to the enemy. The heroic man fell at Moeckern.

Thus it went on, and all the cities and districts soon followed the example. Scheivelbein, the smallest and poorest district in Prussia, was the first to notify that it would furnish, equip, and pay, thirty horsemen for three months. Stolpe was one of the first cities that announced that it would pay 1000 thalers down, and a hundred for each month for the equipment of volunteer riflemen. Stargard had collected for the same object, on the 20th of March, 6169 thalers, 585 ounces of silver; one landed proprietor, K., had given 308 ounces. Ever greater and more numerous became the offers, till the organisation of the Landwehr gave the districts full opportunity to give effect to their devotion in their own circles.

Individuals did not lag behind. He who did not go to the field himself, or equip half his family, endeavoured to help his Fatherland by gifts. It is a pleasant labour to examine the long lists of benefactions. Officials resigned a portion of their salaries, people of moderate wealth gave up a portion of their means, the rich sent their plate, those who were poorer brought their silver spoons; he who had no money to give offered his effects or his labour. It became common for wives to send their gold wedding rings, often the only gold that was in the house; they received afterwards iron ones with the picture of Queen Louisa; country-people presented horses, landed proprietors corn, and children emptied out their saving boxes. There came 100 pair of stockings, 400 ells of shirt linen, pieces of cloth, many pairs of new boots, guns, hunting knives, sabres and pistols. A forester could not make up his mind to give away his dear rifle, as he had promised, among some boon companions, and preferred going himself to the field. Young women sent their bridal attire, and, besides, the neck-ribbons they had received from their lovers. A poor maiden, whose beautiful hair had been praised, cut it off to be bought by the _friseur_, and patriotic speculation caused rings to be made of it, for which more than a hundred thalers were received. Whatever the poor could raise was sent, and the greatest self-sacrifice was amongst the lowest.[50]

Often has the German since then been animated by patriotic aims; but the gifts of that great year deserve a higher praise; for, excepting the great collection of the old Pietists for their philanthropic institution, it is the first time that such a spirit of self-sacrifice has burst forth in the German people, and more especially the first time that the German has had the happiness of giving voluntarily for his State.

The sums also which were produced were, as a whole, so far beyond what has since been collected from wider districts that they can scarcely be compared. The equipment of the volunteer riflemen alone, and what was collected in the old provinces for the volunteer corps, must have cost far more than a million, and it comprehends only a small fragment of the voluntary donations made by the people.[51] And how impoverished were the lower orders!

Near together on the Schmiedebruecke, at Breslau, were the two recruiting places for the volunteer rifles and the Luetzow irregulars. Professor Steffens and a portion of the Breslau students were the first to set on foot the rifles, Ludwig Jahn spoke, gesticulated, and wrote concerning the Luetzowers. Both troops were equipped entirely by the patriotic gifts of individuals. The contributions for the volunteer rifles were collected by Heun. Betwixt the Luetzowers and riflemen there was a friendly and manly emulation; the contrast of their dispositions displayed itself; but whether more German or more Prussian, it was the same ray of light, only differently refracted. The old contrast of character in the citizens, which had been perceptible for a century, showed itself, firm, cautious, and vigorous; and enthusiastic feeling with loftier aspirations. The first disposition was mostly the characteristic of the Prussians, the last of the patriotic youths who hastened thither from foreign parts. Very different was the fate of the two volunteer bodies. From the 10,000 rifles who were distributed in every Prussian regiment, arose the vigour of the Prussian army; they were the moral element in it, the aid, strength, and supply of the body of officers; and they not only contributed a stormy valour to the Prussia army, but gave an elevation to the character of the nobles which was new in the history of the war. The irregulars under Luetzow, on the other hand, experienced the rude fate that overtakes the inspirations of the highest enthusiasm. The poetic feeling of the educated class attached itself chiefly to them; they included a great part of the German students, of vehement and excitable natures; but owing to this they became such a large and unwieldy mass that they were scarcely adapted to the work of regular warfare, and their leader, a brave soldier, had neither the qualities nor the fortune of a daring partisan. Their warlike deeds did not come up to the high-raised expectations that accompanied their first taking arms. Later, the best portion of them were absorbed in other corps of the army. But among their officers was the poet who was destined, beyond all others, to hand down in verse to the rising generation the magical excitement of those days. Of the many touching, youthful characters that figured in that struggle, he was one of the purest and most genial in his poetry, life and death: it was Theodore Koerner.

But even in the great city where the volunteers were preparing their equipments there was no noisy din of excited masses. Quickly and earnestly every one did his duty. Those who had no money were supported by comrades who had been strangers to them, and met them accidentally. The only wish of the new comer was to find his equipments. If he had two coats, as a Luetzower he had one quickly arranged and coloured black; his greatest anxiety was as to whether his cartridge box would be ready. If he was deficient in everything, and the bureau would not supply him with what was necessary, he ventured, but this was rare, to beg through the newspapers. Otherwise, money was of as little importance to him as to his comrades. He made shift as he best could, what did it signify now? As to high-sounding phrases and patriotic speeches he had no time nor ear for them. All hectoring and braggadocio was despised. Such was the disposition of the young men. It was a great enthusiasm, a deep devotion without the inclination to a loud expression of it. The consequential ways and bombast of the zealous Jahn disgusted many, and this bad habit soon gave him the reputation of a coward.

In many there was a disposition to enthusiastic piety, but not in the greater part. All the better sort, however, had strongly the feeling that they were undertaking a duty which was superior to every other earthly object: from this arose their cheerfulness and a certain solemn composure. With this feeling they industriously, honourably, and conscientiously performed their duty, exercising themselves unweariedly in the movement and use of their weapons in their rooms. They sung among their comrades with energetic feeling some of the new war songs, but these only kindled them because they were earnest and solemn like themselves. They did not like to be called soldiers, that word was in ill-repute from the time when the stick had ruled. They were warriors. That they must obey, do their duty to their utmost, and perform all the difficult mechanism of the service, they were thoroughly convinced; and also that they must be a pattern and example for the less educated, who were by their side. They were determined to be not only strict themselves, but careful of the honour of their comrades. In this holy war there was to be none of the insolence and coarseness of the old soldiers, to disgrace the cause for which they fought. With their "brethren" they held a court of honour and punished the unworthy. But they would not remain in the army; when the Fatherland was free, and the French put down, they would return to their lectures and legal documents in their studies. For this wax was not like another; now they stood as common soldiers in rank and file, but if they lived they would another year be again what they had been.

Beside one of such volunteers was perhaps an old officer from the time of the rule of the nobles and the stick. He had done his duty in unlucky wars, had perhaps been a prisoner, plundered of all he had and dragged through the streets of Berlin, the people following him with jeering and curses, and shaking their fists at him; then after the peace a court-martial had been held upon him, he was liberated but discharged with a miserable pittance. Since that he had starved, and secretly gnashed his teeth when the foreign conqueror looked down on him as insolently as he had once done on the civilian. If he had no wife or child to maintain, he had lived for years with his companions in sorrow in a poor dwelling, with disorderly housekeeping, and some of the failings of his old officer class still clung to him; this time of deprivation had not made him softer or milder, the ruling feeling of his soul was hate, deep furious hatred against the foreign conqueror. He had long nourished an uncertain hope, perhaps a vain plan of revenge, now the time was come for retaliation. Even he had been altered by this time of servitude. He had discovered how unsatisfactory his knowledge was, and he had in moments of earnestness done something towards educating himself; he had learnt and read, he also had been inspired by the noble pathos of Schiller. Still he looked with mistrust and disfavour on the new-fashioned warrior who perhaps stood before him in the ranks. His old grudge against scribblers was still very active, and want of discipline, together with high pretensions, wounded him. The same antagonism showed itself in the higher as well as lower grades in the ranks. It is a remarkable circumstance in this war that he was so well restrained; the volunteers soon learnt military obedience, and to value the knowledge of service of those above them; and the officer lost somewhat of the rough and arbitrary way with which he used to treat his men. At last he listened complacently when a wounded rifleman contended with the surgeon whether the _flexor_ of the middle finger should be cut through, or when one of his men by the bivouac fire discussed with animation--in remembrance of his legal lectures--whether the ambiguous relation in which a Cossack had placed himself with respect to a certain goose was to be considered _culpa lata_ or _dolus_. On the whole, this intermixture answered excellently.

But far more important than the action of the volunteers, was the advantage to the government of Prussia, of learning for the first time, what was its duty to such a people. The grand dimensions which the struggle assumed, the imposing military power of Prussia, and the weight which this State, by the importance of its armies, acquired in the negotiations for peace, were mainly occasioned by the exalted feeling which took the world by surprise in the spring months of that year. Through it the government gained courage, and was able to expand the power of the country to the immense extent it did. East Prussia, besides its contingent to the standing army, by its own strength, and almost without asking the government, raised twenty battalions of Landwehr and a mounted yeomanry regiment, and nothing but this enormous development of power could have made the establishment of the Landwehr possible throughout the whole realm.

At the command of its King the nation willingly and obediently and in a regular way produced this second army; in the old provinces one hundred and twenty battalions and ninety squadrons of Landwehr were equipped and maintained, and this was only a portion of its exertions.

How faithfully had it obeyed the commands of its King!

The Landwehr of the spring of 1813 had little of the military aspect which it obtained by service and later organisation.[52] The men consisted of such as had not been drawn into the service of the standing army, and now would be taken by lot and choice up to forty years of age. As the youths of education, the first military spirits of the nation, had most of them either entered the volunteer rifles, or filled up the gaps of the standing army, the elements of the Landwehr would probably have been of less military capacity if a certain number of proprietors had not voluntarily entered the ranks. The solid masses of the war consisted of common soldiers, mostly country people; the leaders, of country nobles, officials, old officers on half-pay, and whoever else was selected as trustworthy by his district, also of young volunteers: a very motley material for field service, many of the officers as well as soldiers without any experience in war. The equipments also were in the beginning very imperfect; they were mostly provided by the circles. The coatee, long trowsers of grey linen, a cloth cap with a white tin cross; the weapons in the first ranks were pikes, in the second and third muskets; for the horsemen, pistols, sabres, and pikes. The men were put into ranks, exercised, and equipped in what was necessary in the principal town of the circle. In the great haste it sometimes happened that battalions were ordered to the army which as yet had no weapons and no shoes; the people went barefooted and with poles to the Elbe, resembling in appearance a band of robbers more than regular soldiery, but with cheerful alacrity, singing and giving vent to hurrahs which they had learned from the Cossacks. For some weeks the troops of the line, especially the old officers, looked contemptuously on this newly-established force, none with more wrath than the strict York. When the worthy Colonel Putlitz, at Berlin, begged for a Landwehr command,--he who had already fought valiantly in the French campaign, and in the year 1807 had collected a corps of sharpshooters in the Silesian mountains,--the staff officers asked him ironically, whether he thought of fighting with such hordes. After the war the valiant general declaimed, that the time during which he had commanded the Landwehr was the happiest of his life. In no part of the new organisation of the army did the power of the great year, and the capacity of the people, shine so brilliantly as in this. These peasant lads and awkward ploughboys became in a few weeks trustworthy and valiant soldiers. It is true that they had a disproportionate loss of men, and in their first encounter with the enemy did not always keep a firm front, and showed the rapid alternations of cowardice and courage which are peculiar to young troops; but called together from the plough and the workshop, badly clothed, badly armed, and little drilled as they were, they had in the very beginning to go through all the severe fieldwork of veteran troops. That they were in general capable of doing it, that some battalions already fought so bravely that even their opponent (York) saluted them by taking off his hat, is as well known as it is rare in military history. Soon they could not be distinguished from troops of the line; it was between them an emulation of valour.