But whilst here the dangerous game was not carried on in its terrible reality, yet all eyes and ears were incessantly directed to the distance. The war had begun in earnest. Those who were left behind were in continual anxiety concerning the fate of those they loved, and of Fatherland. No day passed without some report, no post came without the announcement of some important event; life seemed to fly amidst the longing and the expectation with which they looked forth beyond their city walls. Every little success filled them with transport; it was announced at the door of the town hall, in the church, and in the theatre, wherever men were collected together. On the 5th April was the conflict, at Zehdenick, the first undoubted victory of the Prussians; far and wide through the provinces did people hasten to the church towers to endeavour to descry the first intelligence; and when the thunder of cannon had ceased, and the joyful news ran through the country, there was no bounds to the general exultation; everything that was praiseworthy was proudly extolled, above all the valiant artillery that with guns and powder waggons had chased the enemy through the burning market-place of Leitzkau, amidst the flames that were gathering around them; also the black Hussars, with their death's-heads, valiant Lithuanians, who had ridden over the smart red Hussars from Paris at the first onset. And when the proprietor of the market-place afterwards made a collection through the newspapers for his poor people who had been burnt out, and excused himself for begging at such a time for aid to private misfortune, the country people were not forgotten who had first suffered from the war.
Louder became the din of war, more furious did the conflict of masses rage; the exultation of victory and fearful anxiety alternated in the hearts of those remaining at home. After the battle of Grossgörschen, it was proclaimed that assistance was needed for the wounded. Then there began everywhere among the people collections of linen and lint; unweariedly did not only children but grown-up people draw out the threads of old linen, the women cut bandages, and the teachers in schools cut the rags which the little girls and boys at their request brought with them from their homes, into shape, and whilst they taught the children, these with burning tears collected the pieces into great heaps. Making lint was the evening work of families; it might be of some use to the soldiers.
In the neighbourhood of the allied armies and in the chief cities, hospitals were erected, and everywhere the women assisted—court ladies, and authoresses like Rachel Levin. In one great hospital at Berlin there was Frau Fichte and Frau Reimer, the superintendents of the female nurses. The hospital, owing to the retreating French, had become a pest-house, bad nervous fevers were prevalent, and the strange fancies of the invalids made it a terrible abode. The wife of Fichte shuddered at these horrors, but he endeavoured to sustain her in his noble way. When she was overtaken with nervous fever, he nursed the invalid, caught the infection, and died. Reil also, the great physician and scholar, died there in the midst of his philanthropic efforts. Frau Reimer was preserved; her house had been, before the war, the resort of the Prussian patriots, now her husband had become one of the Landwehr under Putlitz; her anxieties about him and his business and her little children, neither damped her spirit nor engrossed her time; from morning to evening, spring and summer, she was actively occupied; never weary, she divided her time betwixt her family and her care of the sick, and her life appeared to herself indestructible.[55]To her husband, friends and contemporaries, this zeal seemed natural, and a matter of course. In a similar way did German women do their duty everywhere with the greatest self-denial and devotedness, and with quiet enduring energy.
The fearful battle of Bautzen took place; the armistice followed. The Prussians were full of uneasiness. Streams of blood had flowed, their army was driven back, the Emperor appeared invincible by earthly weapons. For some weeks the most intelligent looked gloomily at the future, but the people still maintained a right feeling of self-respect and elevated resolution. Trust in their own energy, and the goodness of their cause, and above all trust in God, were the source of this frame of mind. Every one saw that the strength of Prussia in this campaign was incomparably greater than in the last unfortunate war. Only a little more strength seemed to be necessary to overthrow the tyrant; if they could only make a little more exertion, he might be hurled back. The voluntary contributions continued, late in the autumn receipts were given for them. The equipment of the Landwehr was ended, the artisan had everywhere worked for his King and Fatherland.
The war again raged, blow and counterblow, flux and reflux; the armies pressed on; now one saw from Thurm the hosts of the enemy, now the approach of friends. The cities and provinces of the west learnt from Berlin and Breslau the fate of the war. Ah, its terrible features are not strange to Germans; up to the time of our fathers, the hearts of almost every generation of citizens have been shaken by them.
There are hollow, short reverberations in the air; it is the thunder of distant cannon. Listening crowds stand in the market-place, and at the gates; little is said, only half words in a subdued tone, as if the speaker feared to speak too loud. From the parapet of the towers, and the gables of the houses which look towards the field of battle, the eyes of the citizens strain anxiously to see into the distance. On the verge of the horizon there is a white cloud in the sunlight, occasionally a bright flash is perceptible and a dark shadow. But on the by-ways which lead from the nearest villages to the high road, dark crowds are moving. They are country people flying into the wood or to the mountains. Each carries on his shoulders what he has been able to scrape together, but few have been able to carry off their property, for carts and horses have for some weeks past been taken from them by the soldiers; lads and men drive their herds nervously, the women loudly wailing, carry their little ones. Again there is a rolling in the air, sharper and more distinct. A horseman races through the city gate at wild speed, then another. Our troops are retreating, the crowds of citizens separate, the people run in terrified anguish into their houses, and then again into the street; even in the city they prepare for flight. Loud are the cries and lamentations. He who still possessed a team of horses, dragged them to the pole, the clothmaker threw his bales, and the merchant his most valuable chests on the waggons, and over these their children and those of their neighbours. Waggons and crowds of flying men thronged to the distant gate. If there is a swampy marsh almost impassable, or a thick wood in the neighbourhood, they fly thither. Inaccessible hiding-places, still remembered from the time of the Swedes, are again sought out. Great troops collect there, closely packed; the citizens and countrymen conceal themselves with their cattle and horses for many days; sometimes still longer. After the battle of Bautzen the parishioners of Tillendorf near Bunzlau abode more than a week in the nearest wood, their faithful pastor Senftleben accompanied them, and kept order in that wild spot, he even baptised a child.[56]
But he who remains in the town with his property, or in the performance of his duty, is eager to conceal his family and goods. Long has the case been taken into consideration, and hiding-places ingeniously devised. If the city has more especially roused the fury of the enemy, it is threatened with fire, plunder, and the expulsion of the citizens. In such a case the people carry their money firmly sewed in their clothes.
One anxious hour passes in feverish hope. The first announcers of the retreat clatter through the streets, damaged guns escorted by Cossacks. Slowly they return, the number of their men incomplete, and blackened by powder, more than one tottering wounded. The infantry follow, and waggons overcrowded with wounded and dying men. The rear-guard take up their post at the gate and the corners of the streets, awaiting the enemy. Young lads run from the houses and carry to the soldiers what they have called for, a drink or a bit of bread; they hold the knapsacks for the wounded, or help them quickly to bandages.
There are clouds of dust on the high road. The first cavalry of the enemy approach the gate, cautiously looking out, the Carabiniers on the right flank. A shot falls from the rear-guard, the Chasseur also fires his carbine, turns his horse, and retires. Immediately the enemy's vanguard press on in quick trot, and the Prussian Tirailleurs withdraw from one position to another firing. Finally the last has abandoned the line of houses. Once more they collect outside the gate, in order to detain the enemy's cavalry, who have again formed into rank.
The streets are empty and shut. Even the boys who have accompanied the Prussian Tirailleurs have disappeared; the curtains of the windows are let down, and the doors closed; but behind curtain and door are anxious faces looking at the approaching enemy. Suddenly a cry bursts forth from a thousand rough voices—vive l'Empereur!and, like a flood, the French infantry rush into the town. Immediately they knock against the doors with the butt ends of their muskets, and if they are not opened quick enough they are broken in. Now follow desperate disputes between the defenceless citizen and the irritated enemy—exorbitant demands, threats, and frequently ill-usage and peril of death—everywhere clamour, lamentation, and violence. Cupboards and desks are broken open, and everything, both valuable and valueless, plundered, spoiled, or destroyed, especially in those houses whose inmates have fled; for the property of an uninhabited house, according to the custom of war, falls to the share of the soldier. The city authorities are dragged to the townhall, and difficult negotiations begin concerning the quartering of the troops, the delivery of provisions and forage, and impossible contributions.
If the enemy's General cannot be satisfied with gifts, or if the town is to be punished, the inhabitants of most consideration are collected, forcibly detained, threatened, and, perhaps at last, carried off as hostages. If a larger corps is encamped round the city, one battalion bivouacs in the market-place. The French are rapidly accommodated. They have fetched straw from the suburbs, they have robbed provisions on the road, and cut up the doors and furniture for fire-wood. Disagreeably sounds the crash of the axe on the beams and woodwork of the houses. Brightly blaze up the camp fires, and loud laughter, with French songs, sound about the flames.
When the enemy withdraws in the morning, after having remained one night through which the citizens have held anxious watch, they gaze with astonishment on the rapid devastation of their city, and on the sudden change in the country outside the gates. The boundless ocean of corn, which yesterday waved round their city walls, is vanished, rooted up, crushed and trampled by man and horse. The wooden fences of the gardens are broken, summer arbours and houses are torn away, and fruit-trees cut down. The fire-wood lies in heaps round the smouldering watch-fires, and the citizen may find there the planks of his waggon and the doors of his barn. He can scarcely recognise the place where his own garden was, for the site of it is covered with camp straw, confused rubbish, and the blood and entrails of slaughtered beasts. In the distance, where the houses of the nearest village project above the foliage of the trees, he perceives no longer the outline of the roofs, only the walls are standing, like a heap of ruins.
It was bitter to pass through such an hour, and many lost all heart. Even for people of property it was now difficult to support their families. All the provisions of the city and neighbourhood were consumed or destroyed, and no countryman brought even the necessaries of life to the market, it was needful therefore to send far into the country for the means to appease hunger. But from a rapid succession of great events men had become colder, more sturdy and hardier in themselves. The strong participation which every individual had taken in the fate of the State made them indifferent to their own hardships. After every danger, it was felt to be a comfort that the last thing, life, was saved. And there was hope.
Before long the devastating billow surged back. Again roared the thunder of guns, and the drums rattled. Our troops are advancing; wild struggle rages round the city. The Prussian battalions press forward through the streets into the market-place against the enemy, who still hold the western suburb. It is the young Landwehr who this day receive their baptism of blood. The balls whistle through the streets; they strike the tiles and plaster of the houses; the citizens have again concealed their wives and children in cellars and out-of-the-way places. The battalions halt in the market-place. The ammunition waggons are opened. The first companies press forward to the same gate through which, a few days before, the enemy had rushed into the city. The struggle rages fiercely. In the assault the enemy are thrown back; but fresh masses establish themselves in the houses of the suburb, and contend for the entrances to the streets. Mutilated and severely wounded men are carried back and laid down in the market-place, and more than once the combatants have to be relieved. When the inexperienced soldiers see their comrades borne back from the fight, their faces blackened with powder, and covered with sweat and blood, their courage sinks within them; but the officers, who are also for the first time in close combat, spring forward, and "Forward, children! the Fatherland calls!" sounds through the ranks. At one time the enemy succeeded in storming the upper gate, but scarcely have they forced their way into the first street leading to the market, when a company of Landwehr throw themselves upon them with loud hurrahs, and drive them out of the gate.[57]
The thunder roars; the fiery hail pierces through doors and windows; the dead lie on the pavement and thresholds of the houses. Then any citizen who has a manly heart can no longer bear the close air of his hiding place. He presses close behind his fighting countrymen near to the struggle. He raises the wounded from the pavement, and carries them on his back either to his house or the hospital. Again the boys are not among the last; they fetch water, and call at the houses for some drink for the wounded whom they support; they climb up the ammunition waggons and hand down the cartridges, proud of their work they are unconcerned about the whistling bullets. Even the women rush out of the houses, with bread in their aprons and full flasks in their hands; they may thus do something to help the Fatherland.
The fight is over; the enemy driven back. In the warm sunshine a sorrowful procession moves through the city—the imprisoned enemy escorted by Cossacks. Hardheartedly do the troopers drive the weary crowd; they are allowed only a short rest in the open place of the suburb; the prisoners lie exhausted, weary and half fainting, in the dust of the high road. It is the second day on which they have had neither food nor drink; not once have their guards allowed them a drink from brook or ditch; they have ill-treated the weary men with blows and thrusts of their lances. These now, with outstretched hands, pour forth entreaties in their own language to the citizens, who stand round with curiosity and sympathy. They are, for the most part, young Frenchmen who are here lamenting, poor boys, with pale and haggard faces. The citizens hasten to them with food and drink; ample piles of bread are brought; but the Russians are hungry themselves; they roughly push back the approaching people, and tear their gifts from them. Then the women put baskets and flasks into the hands of their children. A courageous lad springs forward; the little troop of maidens and young boys trip amongst the prisoners, who are lying on the ground; even the youngest totter bravely from man to man, and distribute their gifts smilingly, unconcerned about their bearded guards,[58]for the Cossack does no injury to children. The German is not unkind to his enemy.
When anyone carries a wounded countryman to his house, how faithfully and carefully he nurses him. The family treat him as they would their own son or brother who is far away in the king's army. The best room and a soft bed is prepared for him, and the mistress of the house attends him herself with bandages and all necessary care.
The whole people feel like a great family. The difference of classes, the variety of avocations, no longer divide; joy and sorrow are felt in common, and goods and gains are willingly shared. The prince's daughter stands in union with the wife of the artisan, and both zealously co-operate together; and the land junker who, only a few months before, considered every citizen as an intruder in his places of resort, now rides daily from his property to the city in order to smoke his war pipe with his new friends, the alderman or manufacturer, and to chat with them over the news; or, what was still more interesting to them, over the regiment in which their sons were fighting together. Men became more frank, firmer and better in this time; the morose pedantry of officials, the pride of the nobleman, and even the suspicious egotism of the peasant, were blown away from most, like dust from good metal; selfishness was despised by everyone; old injustice and long-nourished rancour were forgotten, and the hidden good in man came to light. According as every one bestirred himself for his Fatherland, he was afterwards judged. With surprise did people, both in town and country, see new characters suddenly rise into consideration among them; many small citizens who had hitherto been little esteemed, became advisers, and the delight and pride of the whole city. But he who showed himself weak seldom succeeded in regaining the confidence of his fellow citizens; the stain clung to him during the life of that generation. And this free and grand conception of life, this hearty social tone, and the unconstrained intercourse of different classes lasted for years after the war. There are some still living who can speak of it.
When after the armistice, the glorious time of victories came, Grossbeeren, Hagelsberg, Dennewitz, and the Katzbach; when particular Prussian Generals rose higher in the eyes of the people, and millions felt pleasure and pride in their army and its leaders; when at last the battle of nations was fought, and the great aim attained—the overthrow and flight of the hated Emperor, and the delivery of the country from his armies—then was the highest rapture that could be felt in this world enjoyed with calm intensity. The people hastened to the churches and listened reverentially to the thanksgivings of the ecclesiastics, and in the evening they illuminated their streets.
This kind of festivity was nothing new. Wherever, in the last years, the enemy's troops entered in the evening into a city, they had called out for lights; wherever there was a French garrison, the citizens had to illuminate for every victory which was announced by the hated ally of their King. Now this was done voluntarily; everyone had experience in it, and the simple preparation was in every house. Four candles in a window were then thought something considerable; even the poorest spared a few kreutzers for two, and if he had no candlestick, employed, according to old custom, the useful potato; the more enterprising ventured upon a transparency, and a poor mother hung out, together with the candles, two letters which her son had written from the field. These festivities were then simple and unpretending; now we do the same kind of thing far more splendidly.
The great rising began in the eastern provinces of the Prussian State; how it showed itself among the people there we have endeavoured to portray. But the same strong current flowed in the country on the other side of the Elbe, not only in the old Prussian districts, but with equal vigour on the coasts of the North Sea, in Mecklenburg, Hanover, Brunswick, Thuringia, and Hesse, almost in every district up to the Maine. It comprehended the districts which, in the eighteenth century, had attained a greater military capacity; in the provinces of the old Empire it was only partial. The new States which arose there under French influence, discovered later, and in an indirect way, the necessity of a closer connection with the larger portion of the nation. For Austria, this war was an act of political prudence.
Still two years followed of high strained exertion and bloody battles; again did the rising youth of the country, who in the first year had been wanting in age and strength, throng with enthusiasm into the ranks of the army. It was another war, and another victory had to be achieved, it was, however, no longer a struggle for the existence of Prussia and Germany, but for the ruin and life of the foreign Emperor.
The year 1813 had freed Germany from the dominion of a foreign people. Again did the Prussian eagle float over the other side of the Rhine, on the old gates of Cleve. It had made a bloody end to an insupportable bondage. It had united most of the German races in brotherly ties by a new circle of moral interests. It had produced for the first time in German history an immense political result by a powerful development of popular strength. It had entirely altered the position of the nation to their Princes; for, above the interests of dynasties, and the quarrels of rulers, it had given existence to a stronger power which they all feared, honoured, and must win, in order to maintain themselves. It had given a greater aim to the life of every individual, a participation in the whole, political feeling, the highest of earthly interests, a Fatherland, a State for which he learnt to die and by degrees to live.
The Prussians did the greater part of the work of this year, which will never be forgotten by the rest of Germany.
It would not be becoming in us, the sons of the generation of 1813, to disparage the glorious struggle of our fathers, because they have left us something to do.
Almost all who passed through that great time of struggle and self-sacrifice consider the memory of it the greatest possession of their later life, and it encircled the heads of many with a bright glory. And thousands felt what the warm-hearted Arndt expressed, "We can now die at any moment, as we have seen in Germany what is alone worth living for, that men, from a feeling of the eternal, and imperishable, have been able to offer, with the most joyful self-devotion, all their temporalities and their lives as if they were nothing."
But in the churches of the country a simple tablet was put up as a memorial to later generations, on which was the iron cross of the Great Time, and the names of those who had fallen.
As in these pages it has been attempted to portray, in the words of men who have passed away, a picture of the time in which they lived, so here we will give a record from the year 1813.
"Our son George was struck by a ball, at the age of two-and-twenty, on the 2nd of April, at the ever-memorable engagement at Lüneburg. As a volunteer rifleman in the light battalion of the first Pommeranian regiment, he fought, according to the testimony of his brave leader, Herr Major von Borcke, by his side, with courage and determination, and thus, died for his Fatherland, German freedom, national honour, and our beloved King. To lose him so early is hard; but it is comforting to feel that we also have been able to give a son for this great and holy object. We feel deeply the necessity of such a sacrifice.
"The Regierungsrath and Ober-Commissarius Häse and his Wife."[59]
"Berlin, 9th April, 1813."
That portion of the people also who were not in the habit of expressing their feelings in writing felt the same. When the Lützower Gutike,[60]in the Summer of 1813, was on his march from Berlin to Perleberg, he found at Kletzke the landlady in mourning; she was waiting silently upon him, and at last said suddenly, pointing with her hand to the ground, "I have one there,—but Peter's wife has two." She felt that her neighbour had superior claims to sympathy.
When the volunteers of 1813 went to the field, their hope was, at some time, to live as citizens, with their friends, in the liberated Fatherland, enjoying the freedom, peace, and happiness, which they had won. But it is sometimes easier to die for freedom than to live for it.
A few years after victory had been achieved, and Napoleon was prisoner in his distant rocky island, Schliermacher said in the pulpit to his parishioners: "It was an error when we hoped to rest in comfort after the peace. A time is now come, when guiltless and good men are persecuted, not only for what they do, but also for the views and projects which are attributed to them. But the brave Christian should not be faint-hearted, but in spite of danger and persecution remain true to truth and virtue." And police spies copied these words, and did not forget to add to their report that such and such persons had been in the church, or that four bearded students had knelt down at the altar after the communion, and had prayed fervently.
The intrepid Arndt was watched and removed. Jahn was put into prison, and many of the leaders of the patriotic movement of 1813 were persecuted as dangerous men; police officers disturbed the peace of their homes, and their papers were seized. A special commission outrageously violated the forms of law, acting with mean hate, arbitrarily, tyrannically, and perfidiously, like a Spanish Inquisition.
It is a sorrowful page in German history. Independent characters withdrew, deeply disgusted with the narrow-minded rule which now began in most of the States of Germany; common mediocrity again took the helm. Prussia's foreign policy was dictated from Vienna and St. Petersburgh, and before long its political influence on the history of Europe was again less than it had been under the Elector Frederic William. When the people rose in war against a foreign enemy, they little thought what the result would be when the independence of Germany was secured. They themselves brought to the struggle unbounded devotion, and supposed a similar feeling in all who had to shape the future, in their princes, and even in the allied powers. To no one scarcely was it clear how the new Germany was to be arranged. Any clear-sighted person could perceive, in the first year of the war, that a remodelling of Germany, which would make a great development of the power of the nation possible, was not to be hoped for. For it was not the people, nor the patriotic army of Blücher that were to decide, but the dynasties and cabinets of Europe, according to the position of affairs,—Austria, the new States of the Rhineland, the English, Hanover, France, Sweden, and above all Russia, each endeavouring to guard their own interests. The antagonism between Prussia and Austria had already broken out in the negotiations; the Prussians had by an immense effort obtained an honourable position in Europe, but neither in the opinion of nations nor of cabinets were they considered entitled to the leadership. There was hardly a person not Prussian who ever thought of excluding Austria from a new confederation; even Prussia itself did not think of it.
We know, therefore, that the "German question" was even then hopeless, and we do not regret that the old Empire under its Emperor was not restored.
But easily as we can now understand how invincible were the difficulties, to contemporaries the feeling of disappointment was bitter, and an unprejudiced estimate of their position difficult. Among the patriots of 1813, a small minority were then full of enthusiastic sentimentality; they contrasted their poetical ideas of the old splendour of the German Empire with the bad reality; theseDeutschthumler—Teuto-maniacs—as they were called after 1815, had been without influence in the great movement Jahn's great beard was seldom admired, and the worthy Karl Müller found no favour when he began to banish all foreign words from military language. Now after the peace these enthusiasts, for the most part not Prussians, collected together in small communities at the German universities. They sorrowed and hoped, expressed violent indignation, and gave zealous advice; they were agreed together that something great must happen, and they were ready to stake life and property upon it; only, what was to be done was not clear. Between varying moods and wavering projects they came to no conclusion. Politically considered this movement was not dangerous, till the odious persecution of the governments goaded them into hatred and opposition, and throwing a gloom over the minds of some, led to fanatical resolves.
It was not the fault of the Prussian government that the hopes of the nation for a new German State were disappointed. But it had incurred another debt. The King had promised to give his people a constitution. If ever a nation had acquired a right to a participation in the government, it was the Prussian; for it had raised the State from the deepest depression. If the greatest State in Germany had, by legal forms, obtained the possibility of a political development of its power, every sensible Prussian would have been contented. The press and a parliament would gradually have given the loyal nation a feeling of prosperity and safe progress, opposing parties would have contended publicly, and those who demanded more for Germany than could at present be attained, would have been restrained by Prussia. The character of the Germans was now freed from the weakness which had pervaded it through a whole generation. The State also could no longer do without the participation of the people, if it was not to fall back into the old state of feebleness, which only a few years before had brought it to the verge of ruin. Now, when life was impressed with new ideas, when in hundreds of thousands a passionate interest in the State had sprung up, the safest support for the throne itself was a constitution. For the Prussians were no longer a nation without opinions or will, whose destiny an individual could dispose of by his will.
But the King, however honest he might be, who wished to continue to govern in the old way through pliant officials, was in danger from this new condition of the world of becoming the tool of a noxious faction, or the victim of foreign influence. He required a strong counterpoise against the preponderating power of Russia, and diplomatic entanglements with Austria. This he could only find in the strength of an attached people, who in union with him would deliberate on the policy and support of his State.
King Frederic William III. never felt the incongruous position in which he had placed himself, in respect to the necessities of the time, for his image was closely bound up with the grandest reminiscences of the people; and the private virtues of his life made him, during a long reign, an object of reverence to the rising generation. But his successor was to suffer fearfully from the circumstance that he himself, his officials, and his people had grown up under a crippled system of State.
But that the Prussians of 1813 should so quietly have borne their disappointed hopes, that—whilst already in the States of the Rhenish Confederation parties were in vehement struggle—the "great State" lay so lifeless, is to be attributed to other reasons besides loyalty to the Hohenzollerns. The nation was exhausted to the uttermost by the war and what had preceded it, and wearied to death. Scarcely had it strength to cultivate its land. Years passed over before the live stock could be fully replaced. Cities and village communities, landed proprietors and peasants were all deeply in debt. The price of landed properties sank lower than they had been before 1806. It often happened that noble estates remained without masters for many years, when the last proprietor had wasted the live stock, and that auctions were often unattended by solvent bidders. Commerce and industry had been destroyed by the Continental blockade, for the old outlets for linen, cloth, and iron, the great branches of Prussian trade, were lost—foreigners had appropriated them. And capital also was wanting. Intercourse, also, with the Sclavonian eastern districts, a vital question to the old provinces, was gradually almost annihilated by the new Russian commercial system. But a still greater hindrance arose from the waste of men through the war. The whole youth of the country had been under arms, a large portion had fallen on the battle-fields, and the survivors had been torn away from their citizen life. Many remained in the army: full a third part of the Prussian officers who commanded the army in the following thirty years consisted of volunteer rifles of 1813. He who returned to his former vocation found himself reduced in circumstances, and his relatives helpless and impoverished. He was at last glad to become an unpretending official, and thus to obtain a livelihood for himself and his family in the exhausted country. The bloody work of three campaigns, and the habits of soldierly obedience had not diminished his vigour, but the genial warmth, which enables youth to look victoriously upon life, had passed away. He began now a struggle for a respectable home, probably with patience and devotion to duty, but in the narrow sphere into which he now entered, he could not but look back to the mighty past which he had gone through. Thus had the manly energy of the generation been spent. The youths also that grew up in their families had no longer the advantage of being influenced by great impressions, enthusiasm, and devotion.
These misfortunes fell heaviest on the old provinces. The new acquisition demanded for many years great official power and much government care before it could be moulded into the Prussian commonwealth.
It is manifest that a free press and a constitution were the best means of healing these weaknesses more rapidly, and of bringing a feeling of convalescence and coherence among the people; for warmth and enthusiasm are as necessary to the life of a nation as the light of heaven is to plants and dew to the clouds. The further its development advances, the greater becomes its need of exalted ideas, and of having intellectual interests in common. When the Reformation first roused the people to an intellectual struggle, it was as if a miracle had been worked upon them; their character became stronger, their morality purer, all the processes of the mind, all human energy had become stronger; and when the awakened need of a common aim was not satisfied in the State life of the German Empire, the people became inert and worse. Again, after a long and sorrowful time, a great Prince had given to at least a part of the Germans new enthusiasm and an ideal aim. The warm interest in the fate of their State, which ennobled Frederic's time, and the liberation of the mind from the tutelage of the State and the Church, had been a second great progress; and again had this progress required an answering extension of general interests and a strengthening of political action. But in the spiritless and powerless rule of the next generation the popular energies again decayed. The fall of Prussia was the consequence. Now, for the third time, a great portion of the Germans had made a new progress, the nation had given its property and its blood for its State, and it had become a passionate necessity to care for the Fatherland, and to take a share in its fate; and as this longing again met with no satisfaction, the people sank back for a time into weakness. The distractions of the year 1848 were the result.
In almost every domain of ideal life the malady became apparent, even in philosophy.
Extensive was the domain embraced by German philosophy; new branches of knowledge had sprung up with surprising rapidity; there was scarce a bygone people in the most distant regions of the earth whose history, life, arts, and language were not investigated; above all, the past of Germany. With hearty warmth was every expression of our popular mind, of which there remained a trace, laid hold of. A wonderful richness of life of the olden time was discovered and understood in all its specialities. Round the German inquirer arose from the earth the spirits of nations which had once lived; he learnt to comprehend what was peculiar to each, what was common to all—the action of the human mind on the highest phenomena of the globe. Equally did the knowledge of objective nature increase. The history of the creation of the earth, the organism of everything created, the countless objects invisible to the naked eye, and the countless things which arise from the combination of simple substances, became known; and again, beyond the boundaries of this earth, the life of the solar system, the cosmical unit, of which the solar world is an infinitesimal speck.
But the endless abundance of new knowledge which was infused by science into the life of the highly educated was dangerous to the character in one respect. The German learnt to understand the almost endless varieties of character of foreign nations; the most dissimilar kinds of culture became clear to him. Impartially, and with lively interest, did he enter into the policy of Tiberius, and the enthusiasm of Loyola, the gradual development of slavery in North America, and the pedantries and dreams of Robespierre. He was, therefore, in danger, in his considerate judgment, of forgetting the moral basis of his own life. He who would identify himself with so many foreign minds, needs not only the capacity to grasp the minds of others, but still more the power to keep himself free from the influence exercised over him by foreign conditions of life. He who would without prejudice estimate the relative value of a foreign point of view, must first know how to maintain firmly the moral foundation of his own life. This can only be effected by making his own will subservient to the duty of co-operating with his contemporaries, by joining in free associations, by a free press, and by continuous participation in the greatest political conceptions of his time. It was because the Prussians, whose capital at this time was the centre of German philosophy, were deprived of this regulator, that the cultivated minds of this period acquired a peculiar weakness of character, which will appear strange to the next generation.
This weakness of will was indeed no new failing of the educated German. It was the two hundred years' malady of a people which had no participation in the State, and, from its natural disposition, was not carried away by the impulse of passion, but composedly deliberates on action, and is seldom prevented by vehement excitement from forming a moderate judgment. But in the first part of our century their old weakness became particularly striking amidst these rich treasures of knowledge. Oftener than formerly did the originality of a foreign form of life produce an overpowerful influence on them. Instead of withstanding some mighty influence, it might be that of Metternich, Byron, or Eugene Sue, popery, socialism, or Polish patriotism, being foreign, they yielded to its prestige, their own judgment being vacillating and uncertain. Though it was easy for the best amongst them to talk cleverly upon the most dissimilar subjects, it was difficult for them to act consistently.
This malady seized almost all the intellectual portion of the people. The salons becameblasé, authors sensational, statesmen without fixed purpose, and officials without energy: these were all different forms of the same disease. It was everywhere destructive, nowhere more than in Prussia; it gave to this State a specially helpless, nay, even hoary aspect, that was in striking contrast to the respectable capacity which was not lost in the smaller circles of the people.
But healing came, by degrees, and again in a circuitous way, sometimes bounding forwards, and then retrograding; but, on the whole, since 1830, in continual progress.
For, at the same time in which the July revolution again excited, throughout a wide circle of life, an interest in the State, a new development of German popular strength began in other spheres, especially through the industrious labours of countless individuals, in the workshop and the counter. The Zollverein—the greatest creation of Frederic William III.—threw down a portion of the barriers which had divided separate German States; the railroads and the steam-boats became the metallic conductors of technical culture from one end of the country to the other. With the development of German manufacturing activity came new social dangers, and new remedies had to be supplied by the spontaneous activity of the people. Bit by bit was the narrow system of government and of characterless officials destroyed; the nation acquired a feeling of active growth; everywhere there was a youthful interest in life; everywhere energetic activity in individuals. A free intelligence developed itself in independent men, as well as in the official order, together with other forms of culture and other needs of the people. The labour of the inferior classes became more valuable; to raise their views and increase their welfare was no longer a problem for quiet philanthropists, but a necessity for all, a condition of prosperity even for those highest in position. Whilst it was complained that the chasm between employers and the employed became greater, and the domination of capital more oppressive, great efforts were in fact being made by the zeal of literary men, the philanthropy of the cultivated, and by the monied classes for their own advantage, to increase the knowledge of the people and improve their morals. A comprehensive popular literature began to work, commercial and agricultural schools were established, and men of different spheres of interests organised themselves into associations. By example and by teaching it was endeavoured to raise the independence of the weaker, and the great principle of association was proclaimed. In the place of the former isolation, men of similar views worked together in every domain of earthly activity. It was a grand labour to which the nation now devoted itself, and it was followed by the greatest and most rapid change which the Germans have ever effected.
Both the sound egotism of this work and the practical benevolence of those who interested themselves in the welfare of the labouring classes, assisted, after the year 1830, in curing the educated of their irresolution and feebleness of character. The south of Germany now exercised a wholesome influence on the north. Long had the countries of the old Empire lived quietly to themselves, receiving more than giving; they had sent to the north some great poets and men of learning, but considered them as their special property; they had endeavoured to protect their native peculiarities against north German influence, and they were unwillingly, by Napoleon and the Vienna and Paris treaties, apportioned among the greater princely houses of their country; and now they supplied what was wanting to the north. The constitutional struggles of their little States formed a school for a number of political leaders, warm patriots, and energetic, warm-hearted men, sometimes with narrow-minded views, but zealous, unwearied, fresh, and hopeful. The Suabian poets were the first artist minds of Germany which were strengthened by participation in the politics of their homes, and the philosophy of southern Germany maintained a patriotic tendency in contradistinction to the cosmopolitanism of the north. The people were saved from becomingblasé, and from subtle formalism and sophistry, by warmth of heart, vigorous resolution, a solid understanding, which was little accessible to over-great refinements, and a pleasant good-humour. In the time from 1830 to 1848 the southern Germans were in the foreground of German life.
This hearty participation in the life of the people found expression in the art of the southern Germans. The morbid spirit which prevailed in the society of the educated, drove the fine arts into the lower circles of the people. The popular painters endeavoured to represent the figures and occupations of lower life with humour and spirit; the poets endeavoured to embellish, with a genial interest, the character and condition of the countryman: their village tales, and the interest which they excited in the reading world are always considered as a symptom of how great was the longing in the educated for quiet comfort and a well-regulated activity.
A village tale shall be here given, descriptive of the condition of the people at this period; for the life of the southern German, which is related, is in many respects characteristic of the fate and inward changes in the best spirits of the time which has just passed. The movement which, after the revolution of 1830, vibrated all over Europe, had excited in him also a lively interest in the national development of the Fatherland. The debates of the Chambers of his small country were his first auxiliaries. The struggles which took place there did not remain without fruit; they relieved agriculture and the peasant from the burdens which had hitherto oppressed them; they introduced municipal institutions and public and verbal proceedings, even a law against the censorship of the press. But the German Diet interposed, the law of the press was put an end to, and the complaints of the landed proprietors against the exemption laws found favour with it; and the Frankfort outrage of the 3rd of April, 1833, produced a re-action. Then the author left his official position in a fiscal chamber and devoted his energies to the press. When he was deprived of even this share in the political destiny of his country, by the malicious chicanery of a lawless police, he settled for a few years in Switzerland. All his life it had been a pleasure for him to teach. As a student, as candidate for the service of the State, he had given instruction to young men; he was therefore not unprepared for the office of teacher; which he entered upon in that foreign country. He relates as follows:—
"On Easter Monday, 1838, in the church at Grenchen, in the canton of Solothurn, the Roman Catholic community appointed a Protestant and a German as teacher in the newly-erected district school. The community had chosen him, and the government had confirmed the choice; I was the teacher.
"It was a raw spring morning. The monotonous grey of the clouds covered the sides and summit of the Jura, large snow-flakes fell in thick drifts, and enveloped the procession that was moving towards the church. The words addressed by Father Zweili, superior of the Franciscans, and president of the education council, to those assembled, would have been suitable to any clergyman. He expressed to me that I need have no hesitation in speaking to the scholars on religion; 'it is only necessary for you to abstain from touching on the few points on which we differ.'
"The Franciscans were learned, industrious men, they lived as instructors of philosophy, and were therefore in open feud with the Jesuits. The government found in them, powerful supporters and co-operators in their exertions for the education of the people; in this respect everything had to be done, for the patrician rulers who had been overthrown in 1830 had done nothing. In the first place, they established preparatory schools, and training colleges for masters, and provided for the supervision and conduct of school life. The difficulties that had to be overcome were not trifling, but it was all accomplished in the course of four years. In the beginning of 1837, each parish had its school, each school its master and dotation, and each child suitable instruction; the law punished parents for not insisting on the regular attendance of their children at school. As soon as the preparatory schools were arranged, district schools were added; here there was no compulsion; they were established by the community, and the attendance of scholars who had left the preparatory schools, and had the necessary preliminary knowledge, was voluntary; the State assisted the institution by grants, and maintained a superintendence. Grenchen was one of the first communities which determined on providing means for a district school; the government gave an annual contribution of 800 Swiss franks, about 305 thalers. The merit of this decision of the community is due above all to the physician, Dr. Girard, my dear friend. He could make only a small number of his fellow-citizens understand the utility of the undertaking, for they had not had the advantage of the instruction afforded to the present generation, but they trusted the man who had so often showed his unselfish desire to do good. But the desire of this people, who are by nature so energetic, to be in advance of other communities prevailed, and when it became a question whether Grenchen or Selzach should maintain the new school, the thing was decided; the institution was to be at that place, whatever it might be. I had great pleasure in teaching, and the situation secured me a residence which I cared more for than maintenance which might be obtained by other work.
"The village in which I was now to teach was the largest community in the canton, with more than 2000 inhabitants, and 400 citizens entitled to vote, and it was situated among the outlying hills of the Jura. Towards the south, rich meadows and well cultivated fields, slope down to the Aar, which hastens with rapid course through the valley to the Rhine. On the other side of the Aar the ground rises gently up to hilly Emmenthal, and behind it rises the chain of the Alps. The Urner and Swiss mountains in the east, the Rigi standing alone in foremost grandeur; in the centre the Eiger, Mönch, and Jungfrau, up to the Savoy Alps, among which Mont Blanc rises its head majestically. Towards the west the lakes of Viel, Neufchatel, and Meurten spread their shining mirrors. It would be difficult to find anywhere a country so lovely, and at the same time grand, as here presents itself to the eyes.
"The houses of the village are detached and scattered about in groups for some height up the mountain, almost every one is surrounded by a garden and meadow, and shaded by fruit-trees; a clear rivulet glides with many windings through the village. Unwillingly do the thatched roofs give way to the prescribed tiles. The farming of the inhabitants comprises fields, meadows, and woods, the herding of cattle, and on the most valuable properties, mountain pastures, and the making of butter and cheese. The vine also is cultivated. The Grencheners do not deny that in common years their wine is sour, they sneer at it in songs and jests, but yet they drink it, and find it wholesome. They are a powerful race, of Allemanni origin, the men are mostly slender but strong, and some of them uncommonly tall. Among the women and maidens there is frequently that Madonna-like beauty which is often to be found in Catholic districts. They are cheerful and gifted with humour, perseveringly industrious, and skilful in adapting themselves to every position and helping themselves. It is not the custom with them to close the doors; it is mentioned as an unprecedented circumstance, that three years ago a watch was stolen in the village. But the locality is not favourable for thieves; woe to him who allows himself to be caught, he would not come unscathed into the hands of justice.
"The Grencheners had the repute of untamed lawlessness, which manifested itself in litigation and a strong inclination to take the law into their own hands; the knife was frequently used, and blood was shed. If the result was not mortal all who were concerned in it were summoned, in order to keep the magistrates away. The injurer and the injured negotiated, through mediators, as to a suitable indemnification, and with the conclusion of the treaty the enmity terminated. Money was not in my time the standard by which men were valued, but their labour. I value a citizen there, who, having by an unsuccessful enterprise lost his property, has worked as a street servant. His fellow-citizens esteem him as much as before, and praise him because he performs his service right well. For lads who did not like the labours of peace, foreign service offered them a beaten way, which was not objected to by the community, because it freed them from many disturbing elements; however, it brought back many wild fellows not amended.
"In the year 1790, when the French invaded Switzerland, the cantons were very disunited; they carried on their struggle against the enemy singly; the Bernese fought well at Neuenegg and the Vierwaldstättersee, but one after another were subdued by superior power. The Grencheners were bold enough to defend their village against the French invaders; they went out, some of them armed with halberds and old weapons, against the enemy, and joined in hand-to-hand combat. The name ofJungfer Schürerstill lives, in the mouths of the inhabitants, and they still show the place where she lost her life in the struggle. The French officer, her opponent, was brought wounded to the hospital at Solothurn, and is said to have there lamented penitently that he was obliged to kill a maiden; but he had only the choice of doing this or falling under her blows.
"The bath lies in a small secluded valley, separated from the village, a building with a large front, betwixt ponds and pleasure-grounds with shady groups of trees. Behind it is the spring, a clear iron water. In summer the bath is visited by guests from Switzerland—Alsacians and others—who accidentally discover the place and take a fancy to it. In this century the small valley of marsh and sedge was still the possession of the community. The father of Girard obtained the land for a moderate price; built his huts upon it, drained the ground, enclosed the spring, and arranged the baths—at first in very modest style, extending the grounds as means increased. Father and mother both exerted themselves, sons and daughters grew up to assist; one son studied at German universities, and became a physician. The institution has to thank him for its rapid prosperity.
"This was the place where I was presented in the church as schoolmaster, not without the opposition of some pious parties.
"All the powers of resistance were roused to the utmost by the ultramontane party; publicly by the press, privately by every possible means. A heretic to be the only teacher in a Roman Catholic school—that was unheard of! The government, the common council, and I myself, were overwhelmed with abuse; the ecclesiastics in Grenchen were severely blamed for having allowed a wolf to break into the fold, and it was set before them as a duty (not only by the newspapers) to use their utmost efforts to stifle the devil's brood in the germ.
"The pastor of the place was a stately, fine man,—a favourite of the ladies, which gave him influence. But he was not fond of controversy; he loved repose and playing on the violin, and would therefore rather not have taken a part. As far as his influence went he hindered the boys from going to school, and never set his foot in it, so that no religious instruction was given, and the hours appointed for it were filled up with instruction on other subjects. Personally I was on a tolerably good footing with him. It would have given him pleasure if I would have allowed him to baptise my little daughter, who was born two months before at the Grenchen baths, and he would have taken the opportunity of making a quiet effort to convert me, by giving me a book to read, pretending to be written by a Protestant, for the glorification of the Roman Catholic church. Still less than the pastor could his chaplain be used as a battering-ram against the school. He had become a theologian at Würzburg, and knew that Leipzig was a nest of books. He was a good husbandman and rearers of bees, and had about the same amount of education as the people; they, however, did not remain stationary. He did not always succeed in preserving his clerical dignity and avoiding blame from the authorities. He had never felt it necessary to extend his theological knowledge beyond what was absolutely necessary, and I was sometimes astonished at the chaos in his memory; as when, for example, he related how St. Louis had defended Rome against the Huns. If the conversation fell upon books he never ceased to praise a narrative of a mission to Otaheite, and I soon discovered that this volume was very nearly his whole library. In spite of all this he was a good man, and it will not injure him now if I relate why I loved him. We were speaking one day of eternal happiness and the reverse. I told him how impossible I considered it, that the good God could be so cruel as to burn me eternally in hell. It is the Lord's fault, not mine, that I was baptised a Calvinist, and had thus been instructed and confirmed. Our teacher had told us that we were to love our fellow-creatures, and do good to them; and I endeavoured, according to the best of my ability, to follow this teaching, and yet I was to be eternally condemned! This gave the chaplain pain, and he found a theological answer: 'I hope God will deal with you as with one of the heathen, of whom it is written, that they will be judged according to their works.' He was not dangerous to the school.
"If the clerical leaders had been more energetic, the supporters they could have called forth, from out of the population, to oppose the school were not to be despised. Besides the women, who for the most part were attached to the pastor, there were men whom the new rule had deprived of official position in the community. Respectability and family connections still gave them importance, and they were led by their old masters to persuade the more energetic youths that the new constitution would not give them freedom enough; but, on the contrary, more burdens, and that they had no reason to be contented with a condition of things which the new leaders would turn exclusively to their own advantage. These opponents were dangerous. From one of them I was in the habit of getting milk for my household; the children fell sick, and became feverish. Then we learnt that the milk of a sick cow had been given us, and that the seller boasted of it.
"As the party which had just been vanquished in the field of politics could not openly make head against the common council and the majority of the citizens; they endeavoured to influence the parents, and were pleased when, in the beginning, there were only a dozen scholars—a small number for a great parish, surrounded by other villages, to whose sons the district school was open. There was only one means of saving the school from dissolution, and that was, its success. But a circumstance occurred to help us, before it could be ascertained that useful knowledge might be acquired here.
"Grenchen lies on the frontier towards the canton of Berne, about half an hour's distance from the Berne village of Lengnau. The Calvanistic common council of Lengnau inquired of their Roman Catholic Solothurner neighbours whether, and under what conditions, boys from their place would be allowed to attend the district school. The answer was, that their sons would be welcome; the instruction would be given gratuitously, and that the people of Lengnau would only have to take care that the scholars should be quiet and orderly. Hence there was an increase of eight or ten boys from Lengnau; in order to preserve quiet, one of them had been appointed by the mayor as monitor, and was made answerable for their discipline; they marched in military order two and two, and returned home in the same way, and there never was the slightest quarrel between them and the Grencheners. This example worked upon the neighbouring places of the canton; scholars came from Staad, Bettlach, and Selzach, and, later, even from the French Jura. One of them merits special mention. He was a large strong man, two and thirty years of age (a year older than I), from the parish of Ely, in Friburg, a distance of two hours behind the Weissenstein, situated in a wild lonely country of the Bernese Jura mountains, which he had quitted, in order to work on the new high road between Solothurn and Grenchen. When he heard of the district school, he altered his determination; he hired himself as a servant to a peasant for board and lodging, resigning salary for the privilege of being able to attend the school. His desire for knowledge and his iron industry helped him to surmount all difficulties; he afterwards attended the seminary of education at Bünchenbuchsee (Berne); then returned to his home, where he became mayor and teacher; in short, all-in-all. Only one thing Xaver Rais did not become, that was, father of a family; for he always continued his studies, and, as he confided to me afterwards, preferred buying books to a wife. The Grencheners reckon him, up to the present day, as one of them; and even now, when I go to the place, a message is sent to him; then he puts on his satchel, lays hold of his staff, and goes over the mountain with long strides.
"The influx of scholars from the neighbourhood did not fail to have an effect on the opponents in the place; many boys succeeded in overcoming the resistance of their parents, and had the satisfaction of entering the institution, which soon numbered between thirty and forty scholars. In order to regulate the instruction according to the requirements, I was obliged to alter the prescribed plan. I did it on my own responsibility, and when at the close of the first year, I reported this to the government, what I had done was approved, and a wish expressed that the same course might be pursued in the other district schools. In the summer I kept school only from six to ten o'clock in the morning, in order that the boys might be employed in house and field labour. Besides this, the great work of the hay and corn harvest was in the holidays. The objects of study I limited in number, but went more deeply into them; I honestly lamented that the pastor gave no religious instruction, for the boys came from the preparatory school very much neglected in this important branch; they had only been impressed with two points, the indispensableness of the Ecclesiastical order, and the value of relics; of biblical history they were almost entirely ignorant. If the pastor did not teach religion, neither did I teach politics, but left the Fatherland State system to the school of life. On the other hand, the German and French languages, together with practice in composition, history, and geography, arithmetic and geometry, were carried on with great zeal, and it gave me pleasure to observe how forward boys of natural capacity might be brought in a short time, when all bombast was abolished, things represented simply, and each individual suitably assisted in his intellectual work.
"It was my good fortune to have a tolerable number of clever scholars, and for these I always endeavoured to do more than was prescribed. I gave them, therefore, at particular hours, instruction in Latin; and I made use of this to enlarge their views, and to guide and excite their love of learning. They formed a nucleus which gave the school a firm position. To them I owe the absence of anxiety about the discipline of the school, for their earnest orderly characters had an effect on all. During the three years of my office as teacher, I never had recourse to punishment; if a boy was idle or untruthful, I used, after admonishing him to amend, to add the notification, that the other scholars would bear no bad lads amongst them. It certainly sometimes happened that at the end of the lesson, in which I had been obliged to give such a warning, certain sounds which did not mean approbation, would reach my ears; but I forbore inquiring as to the cause. On account of the number of scholars, the institution was removed to another place; the school-room was on the first story immediately over our sitting-room, and my wife often remarked with astonishment, that though thirty peasant boys were assembled above, she never heard the least noise; and that our little children were not disturbed in their morning sleep.
"Before a year had passed, it was discovered in the village that the school was useful; the boys, especially those of the 'guard,' as they called myélite, were in great request, to read and write German and French letters, which were necessary for the traffic in the products of the country; also to examine and draw up accounts, and the like. I willingly overlooked it when here or there one was an hour late, in consequence of having performed these neighbourly acts, for this was of advantage both to them and the school. The people saw us undertaking the measurement of fields, and trigonometrically determining heights and distances with instruments made by ourselves. But the strongest impression was produced, when a boy fifteen years of age begged for permission to speak before the assembled community for his father. The father, a worthy man, well deserving of the community, had, by misfortune, become bankrupt. Ruin impended, if the largest creditor did not act with consideration, and this creditor was the community itself. The son appeared before the assembly, and begged for an abatement of the debt. He described the services, the misfortunes, and the state of mind of his father; his anxieties about his family, and forlorn future; and the advantage it would bring to the community itself, if it preserved to the family its supporter, and to itself a useful citizen. He spoke with an impressiveness, a warmth and depth of feeling, which caused tears to roll down the beards of the most austere men. I can certify that many will say this: and at last the remission of the debt was passed without a dissenting voice. The boy has now long been a professor of Natural Science and Doctor of Philosophy. His speech did even more for the place than the act of another scholar, who knocked out the brains of a mad dog with his wood axe. This they thought was no art, for that every one could do; but the young orator! 'This is the way they learn to speak in the school.' From that time the institution was firmly established. But I still wanted something more.
"In vain had I begged the government to give an examination. They had answered that they were acquainted with the progress of the school, and accorded me their confidence. The second year I urgently repeated my request, and represented that it would be of use to the school if the State took notice of it. The examination was granted, and there appeared at it the magistrate of the district Munzinger, many members of the council of government, the prior Zweili, different teachers, and men of distinction from Solothurn. All went off well; the boys felt themselves raised and encouraged by the signs of satisfaction of the highest State officials. After the business was over, the members of the common council and other gentry, with the officials and friends of the school, assembled at a repast. When the strangers had left, the inhabitants remained long assembled together; even former opponents had joined; very willingly would the chaplain have made his appearance if he had not been afraid of the pastor, and so would the pastor himself if he had been sure that his superiors would not hear of it. The glasses continued to pass round till late in the night, and I was not in a position to let them go by me, so much the less that in the eyes of these men, he who could not drink with them was considered as a weakling, and looked upon as incapable of showing any capacity. From the day of the examination, I could consider the school as having taken root in the community. The time had passed away when my friends and acquaintance at Solothurn had declared to me that they would not be surprised to hear an account of my being killed by the wild Grencheners.
"I had indeed never been fearful of so unceremonious a proceeding from the adherents of the 'Black party,' but it was not till now that I was cheered by a feeling of security. Many small but significant traits showed me that the people no longer considered me and mine as strangers, and an approximation was here accomplished which was perhaps the first for some generations. Before the opening of the institution, it had been a question of procuring benches and other requisites, and it was then remarked that these articles should not be supplied by foreign joiners. A long time afterwards one of these came to me—there were two brothers—to beg of me to lay a memorial before the government, stating that they wished to remain at Grenchen, and obtain the rights of citizens. By a new decree, the mayors were ordered to examine the papers of settlers, and to send to their own homes all whose papers were not according to rule. These had no papers, and were therefore in danger of losing their domicile. On my inquiring how long they had lived in the place, the man answered, that he and his brother had been born there, also their father and mother; their grand-parents had wandered there as young people, and, indeed, not from a foreign country, or from another canton, but from a Solothurn village, only four hours from Grenchen, where, however, they would no longer know anything about them. The community had dealt well with them, giving them an equal share with the citizens in the communal property, but they denied them the rights of citizens. The government then signified to the community, that they had neglected to demand from their sires the papers, and that the grandchildren must not suffer from it. They became citizens, but still remained foreign joiners.
"After a year was passed, fortune was favourable to me. The neighbours' children chose mine as playfellows, and the wives sought intercourse with mine, whilst many of the men persuaded me to join a union which was engaged in objects of general utility; it soon attained a great development, and introduced much improvement into the administration and economy of the property of the community. I learnt to esteem many excellent country people; many have passed away in the vigour of manhood. Her Vogt, justice of the peace, a genuine Allemanni, with a long thin face and dark hair, adapted by his understanding and acuteness to be the champion of the rising enlightenment, was killed not long ago by the fall of a tree which he was felling with an axe. The common councillor, Schmied Girard, met with an accident in the flower of manhood, on the occasion of a bonfire, which was lighted on the Warinfluh, high up on the edge of a rocky precipice, in order to show the Bernese neighbours sympathy in the celebration of the festival in honour of their constitution. He pushed a great log with his foot into the fire, slipped, and fell backwards over the rock into the abyss. He was an uncompromising opponent of the rotten system in the State, and had not feared to make known his sympathy for David Strauss, whose call to Zurich in 1839 had brought about the noted Zurich row, and to express his conviction that there could be no improvement till the community could choose their own pastor, and it should only be for five years. No wonder then that the ultramontane party spoke of his death in their papers as by the finger of God, for the edification of the good, and as a warning to the godless. The Grencheners answered the fleeting curse of the pious press by an enduring inscription on stone. In the village, by the side of the high road, in a place that every traveller who goes along the road must remark, there is a simple memorial stone. The inscription says that it is dedicated to the memory of the common councillor Girard, who was loved and esteemed by his fellow citizens, who laboured and met his death in the cause of liberty, justice, and enlightenment. He was a good neighbour to me, and a powerful support: my wife gazed at him with astonishment when he took her Italian iron out of the fire with his bare hand, and placed it in the iron stand.
"Anesprit de corpsin a good sense soon arose among the scholars; they felt themselves a distinguished corporate body. I made expeditions with them; amongst others, to Neuenberg, where the curiosities of the town, especially the rich collection of natural history, were shown to them with praiseworthy willingness. Another time we accepted the friendly invitation of a teacher at Solothurn to see a series of physical experiments. To the capital of the country the boys would not go on foot, but drove, as proud Grencheners, in a carriage decked with foliage, drawn by stately horses. In the lecture-room their demeanour was quiet, and they showed attention and intelligence, and they could see there much that, from want of proper appliances, I could only describe to them. The school was the focus of their life, the place where they collected on all great occasions. When one night the alarm-bell sounded, announcing a fire in the neighbouring village of Bettlach, they all came unsummoned to me; we put ourselves in order, and hastened with rapid steps to the spot where the fire was; we formed a rank to the nearest brook, and received our share in the praise and parting thanks of the pastor, for, when the fixe was extinguished, the clergyman delivered a speech of thanks to the neighbours who had come to help. I became the confidant of the cleverer ones in many features of their inward development. The boy who had come forward as advocate for his father was, on his first entrance into the school, so uncurbed in his overflowing strength, and so untamed by any culture, that, instead of taking his place in the usual way, he always vaulted over tables and benches; the wild creature scarcely kept within his clothes. But very soon all this was changed; Sepp became quiet and serious, and his whole strength exerted itself in reflection and learning. I expressed to him my pleasure at the change, and he told me that one night he had not been able to sleep, and the thought had come into his head, 'Thou hast hitherto not been a man, but an animal; now, through the means of the school, thou canst become a man, and must do so.' From that night he felt himself changed. Another—now an able forest-manager and geometrician—had surprised me by an almost sudden transition from slow to quick comprehension and rapid progress. He gave me afterwards this explanation: 'All at once light broke upon me. You had set us an equation; I racked my brains with it, but could not find out a solution. I was in the stable milking the cows: I had taken the paper with me, laid it beside me on a log, and was looking at it every moment. Then it passed like lightning through my brain: "thus must thou do it!" I left the cow and pail, took my paper, ran into the room, and solved the equation. Since that all my learning has gone on better.'