den Zelten. It was resolved to present an address to the King,
demanding that he should immediately convene the Landtag and grant a
constitution. The address ended with the words: "No war with France!
Lawful liberty in our own country! Fraternal union of the whole great
German nation!" On the 12th of March a regiment of cavalry charged
the crowds at In den Zelten and dispersed them, but they collected
again in town, built barricades, and attempted to seize a gunsmith's
shop in the Jägerstrasse. Two men were killed in front of the Opera
House. Under the windows of the Castle the people shouted "Liberty!
Liberty of the press!" and insulted the sentries. On the 14th of March
a general Landtag was summoned. So far things had been managed on
the whole peaceably; but on the 15th of March the soldiers, who were
worn out with night-watching, and with having to hold themselves in
constant readiness in the barracks, began to behave roughly to the
crowd, to strike with the butt-ends of their guns, &c. Small barricades
which some boys had erected at the corner of the Kurstrasse and the
Gertraudenstrasse were charged by the Cuirassier Guards from Potsdam,
and the boys were cruelly handled.
At one o'clock on the 18th of March a royal proclamation was read
in front of the Castle. It declared that Germany was to be from
henceforth not a federation of States, but one federated State
(Staatenbund--Bundesstaat), with a common Parliament, a common army,
free-trade, liberty of emigration, and liberty of the press. At the end
of each sentence the crowd answered with thundering hurrahs. Cries were
heard of "Away with the soldiers!" and some stones were thrown. The
famous General von Pfuel, who was in command, forbade the soldiers to
fire, ordered the dragoons to dismount, and praised the discipline they
showed in obeying at once, furious as they were. When the town seemed
quiet he went home for a short time.
During his absence, in consequence of an order given, no one knows by
whom, though the embittered populace during the following days laid
the blame of it on the Prince of Prussia, the future Emperor William,
a regiment of dragoon guards arrived. The crowd shouted "Away!" The
dragoons wheeled round, and the crowd were beginning to cry "Bravo!"
when suddenly the soldiers charged in amongst them with naked swords.
At the same moment a battalion of infantry marched out at the Castle
gate, drew up in line, and also charged with levelled bayonets. Some
shots were fired--possibly by accident. With loud shrieks the crowd
instantaneously dispersed. Only a moment before joy had been at its
height; strangers had been embracing each other, waving their hats,
and shouting "Hurrah for the King"; now, as if at a preconcerted
signal, barricades sprang up, as they had done in Vienna, over the
whole town. There were two hundred of them, built of paving-stones,
gutter-planking, and carts. The town was a camp. Men fired on the
troops from every roof; those who could not get guns, threw stones.
Every axe, every thick stick became a weapon.[10]
The roofs were torn off corner houses, and paving-stones were carried
up in baskets. The students met, armed, in front of the University,
fastened tri-coloured cockades in their caps, and proceeded to man the
barricades. Powder and shot, axes and iron bars, were provided by the
merchants. On the evening of the 18th, the artillery opened fire in
the Königstrasse. The King looked on from the windows of the Castle,
incensed by the deputations that came entreating him to withdraw the
troops, but at times condescending to jest; what specially annoyed him
was the sight of the tri-coloured flags waving on the barricades. He
was ready, he said, to concede much to entreaty, nothing to illegal
violence.
Varnhagen, in his Diary, describes what he saw and heard from his
windows that night: "Asmall body of citizens under trusty leaders held
the streets, doubly watchful because their numbers were so few. For a
number of hours absolute darkness and silence prevailed; then, towards
morning, the sound of far-off drums was heard; troops were evidently
approaching. The citizen combatants were instantly on the alert; we
could hear them whispering. A youthful voice gave the word of command:
'To the roofs, gentlemen!' and every man went to his post. This calm,
determined command, given with noble simplicity, rang terrible and yet
inspiring through the darkness. One felt the dangers which those who
obeyed it were braving, for the general resistance was becoming weaker,
and it seemed as if they were doomed, after a fruitless struggle, to
meet an ignominious death, either by a fall from the roof, by the
soldiers' bayonets, or by the hand of the executioner." Varnhagen
concludes: "The heroic courage and determination of these daring youths
was most undoubtedly worthy of all admiration"--weighty words, coming
from the pen of an old, experienced officer.
On the night between the 18th and 19th of March, wherever barricades
were being erected or repaired, the windows were illuminated. But
the moment troops entered the street all was darkness. The soldiers
hewed and sabred right and left in the houses which they entered, and
showed mediæval brutality in their treatment of prisoners. Towards
morning the arsenal of the Garde-Landwehr regiment was captured by the
insurgents; they found that the locks of the guns had been destroyed,
but all the smiths of the quarter set to work and repaired the damage.
At last, in the course of the morning, a royal proclamation headed
_An meine lieben Berliner!_ was circulated, in which an attempt was
made to explain the events of the day before as being the result of
an unfortunate misunderstanding, "It had been necessary to clear
the square in front of the Castle with cavalry, ordered to advance
at a walking pace and with sheathed swords (_im Schritt und mit
eingesteckter Waffe_); two infantry muskets had about this time
gone off by accident, fortunately injuring no one; a company of
evil-disposed individuals, chiefly strangers, had taken advantage of
this unfortunate occurrence to stir up ideas of revenge in the minds
of the excited crowd; the troops had used their weapons, but not until
driven to do so by being repeatedly fired at. The King promises that
the troops shall be withdrawn from Berlin, and concludes with the hope
that both parties will forget what has happened."[11]
Meanwhile the struggle raged on with frightful exasperation on both
sides. In treating with the deputations that waited on him on the
morning of the 19th of March, the King attempted to make his promise
of withdrawing the troops conditional on the dismantling of the
barricades. But in the end everything was conceded--change of ministry,
release of the prisoners taken during the night, and withdrawal of
the troops. Amidst the shouts of the rejoicing crowd, to muffled beat
of drum and Chorale-music, the soldiers were marched off to Potsdam,
feeling that they had sustained a deadly insult at the hands of their
royal commander-in-chief.
An enormous crowd thronged to the Castle, partly consisting of
those who hoped by the force of numbers to exercise pressure on
their vanquished rulers, partly of curious idlers; all the funeral
processions from the streets where there had been fighting also made
their way there. The corpses were borne on biers, or, where the numbers
were too great, conveyed in open waggons, decorated with flowers,
ribbons, and scarves, the corpses too being decked with flowers.
Every available space in the neighbourhood of the Castle was closely
packed. The crowd demanded to see the King. With a pale face he stepped
out on the balcony. "Set the prisoners free!" shouted the crowd, and
he was actually obliged to order the release of all those who were
confined in the cellars of the Castle. The next proceeding was the
carrying of many of the most severely wounded insurrectionists into the
Castle, where their wounds were dressed. Now the funeral processions
began to arrive, a sight by which the crowd was thrown into a state of
the wildest agitation. Whilst the corpses were being carried into one
of the apartments on the first floor of the Castle, one orator after
another addressed the people. The speech which met with most approval
was one made by Karl Gutzkow, the refrain of which was "general arming
of the citizens." This the newly appointed ministers, who were moving
about among the crowd, vainly attempting to pacify them, were loth
to concede, but they were soon compelled to do so, for a scene which
occurred at this juncture made it impossible to resist the demands of
the people.
A new funeral procession arrived--four corpses were borne on
flower-decked biers through the crowd, their bloody wounds exposed to
view for the purpose of rousing the beholders to revenge. The biers
were deposited below the King's balcony, and the bearers raised a wild
shout of "The King! The Queen!" which found a thousand-fold echo among
the crowd. Two of the new ministers, Schwerin and Arnim, tried in vain
to gain a hearing; their voices were drowned in the cry of "The King!
The Queen!"
When the King and Queen actually appeared, on the balcony the people's
frenzy knew no bounds. The King to speak, but the bearers held high
the biers with their bloody burdens, and the crowd yelled "Off with
your hat!" And as each corpse was carried past the King was obliged to
uncover.[12] In Freiligrath's grand poem, _Die Todten an die Lebenden_,
written in the following year, the year of disillusion, we read:
"Die Kugel mitten durch die Brust, die Stirne breit gespalten,
So habt Ihr uns auf blutgem Brett hoch in die Luft gehalten!
Hoch in die Luft mit wildem Schrei, das unsre Schmerzgeberde
Den, der zu tödten uns befahl, ein Fluch auf ewig werde!
Dass er sie sehe Tag und Nacht, im Wachen und im Traume--
Im Oeffnen seines Bibelbuchs und im Champagnerschaume!
Dass wie ein Brandmal sie sich tief in seine Seele brenne:
Dass nirgendwo und nimmermehr er vor ihr fliehen könne!
Dass jeder qualverzogene Mund, dass jede rothe Wunde
Ihn schrecke noch, ihn ängste noch in seiner letzten Stunde!"[13]
On the 21st of March, at noon, the King rode out at the Castle gate
with a black, red, and gold band on his arm, and himself distributed
black, red, and gold favours. He was followed by the royal princes
and the Ministers, who were in despair at the humiliating proceeding;
at his side rode a veterinary surgeon, Urban by name. One of his
generals had in vain attempted to dissuade him from taking this step.
He answered: "Non, non, c'est décidé, nous allons monter à cheval."
Presently he drew rein and spoke as follows: "I am usurping no man's
right when I declare that I believe myself called to be the saviour
of the unity and liberty of Germany--that unity and liberty, based on
a free constitution, I will defend with the aid of German loyalty."
At the University he called for the professors and students, and said
to them: "Schreiben Sie sich's auf, meine Herren! Write down my words
to you, for they are for posterity. I place myself at the head of the
German nation; with its unity and liberty the existence of Prussia is
henceforth inseparably bound up. Write that down!" At the arsenal,
when he was again pouring forth promises, a piercing voice suddenly
cried: "Don't believe him, he is lying; he has always lied, and he is
lying now. Tear me in pieces if you like, but I say he is lying--don't
believe him!"
In Vienna, a few days later, the following poem appeared:
"PREUSSISCHE MISSVERSTAENDNISSE.
Im grossen ungläubigen Altberlin sind nun die Wunder zu Hause,
Da wird geschossen, gestürmt, gebrannt zwei Tage ohne Pause,
Bis tausende liegen im rothen Sand. Den König betrübt die Wendniss:
Die Flinten gingen von selber los. Das war nur ein Missverständniss.
Durch's grosse, ungläubige Altberlin gehn wunderbare Witze,
Ein König hüllt sich in Schwarz-Roth-Gold und stellt sich an
Deutschlands Spitze,
Ein König wird Ober-Demagog mit deutsch einheitlicher Sendniss,
Doch Deutschland lacht und ruft mit Macht: Das ist ein
Missverständniss."[14]
Another poem that bears witness to the irritated, sarcastic feeling
provoked by the events of these days is entitled _Erlkönig_, and begins:
"Wer schiesst noch so spät auf's Volk ohne Wehr?
Es ist ein König mit seinem Heer.
Er hält sein Volk so treu im Arm,
Er fasst es so sicher mit seinen Gendarmes.
O Bürger, o Bürger, o hörest du nicht
Was Erlkönig in der Zeitung verspricht," &c.
The Revolution of March in the capitals of Germany did not call
forth any particularly fine poetical effusions; it gave rise chiefly
to street songs, inflammatory and ephemeral verse; but the counter
revolutions, the terrible re-capture of Vienna in October and of Berlin
in November 1848, inspired a whole host of fine poems. The poets also
found inspiration in the martyr deaths of individual liberationists,
who either fell in fight or were murdered judicially after the
suppression of the revolution. The insurrection of Hungary, too, with
its suppression by the Russian army, awakened a sympathy which found
expression in touching poems.
The enthusiastic ecstasy in Vienna was of short duration. The democrats
did not consider the free constitution free enough. A central
political committee was formed as a sort of check on the government.
The existence of such a body was declared to be illegal, but popular
pressure compelled the government to retract this declaration and to
suspend the constitution. In the beginning of May the Emperor fled to
Innsbruck. An attempt was made to disband the student brigade, but as
this led to a renewal of barricade fighting, the ministry were obliged
to desist. The Emperor returned in August. During all this time the
capital was in a most excited state; the revolution had put a stop to
every kind of business, and the want of employment increased discontent
and restlessness. A deep impression was made by the intelligence of
the events of June in Paris, Cavaignac's victory being regarded as
equivalent to the suppression of the revolution in France. About the
same time came the news that Jellatschitsch, the Ban of Croatia, was
preparing to invade Hungary. Intercepted letters showed that in this
proceeding he had the support of the Court of Vienna and of Latour, the
Minister of War; and the consequence was that Count Lamberg, Latour's
envoy, was torn to pieces by the mob on his arrival at Pesth (September
28), and Latour himself, having declared his intention of despatching
troops to Hungary, was killed (October 7) by the enraged populace of
Vienna. In his poem, _Der 7 Oktober_, which is a eulogy of the murdered
man, Dingelstedt takes the opportunity to dissociate himself from the
revolution and all its doings.
The Emperor now fled from Vienna for the second time. Whilst Radetzky
suppressed the insurrection in Lombardy, Windischgrätz, who had been
appointed commander-in-chief, surrounded the capital with his troops.
In a struggle which lasted from the 24th to the 29th of October the
outworks and outlying parts of the town were captured, and the city
had already been driven by want of provisions and ammunition to agree
to the unconditional capitulation demanded by Windischgrätz, when the
cry was heard in the streets: "The Hungarians are coming." They had
been seen from the tower of St. Stephen's Church. There was great
rejoicing. The agreement to surrender was disregarded, the arms which
had already been given up were again seized at the arsenals, and
sorties were made to support the Hungarians, whose cannonading was now
heard. But the Hungarian army was completely routed by Jellatschitsch.
Windischgrätz entered Vienna on the 31st of October, followed by
Jellatschitsch on the 2nd of November. A state of siege was proclaimed,
and court-martials, sentences of death, and executions became the order
of the day.
Simultaneously with the elections for the first German Parliament
in Frankfort-on-Main, elections went on in Prussia for the Prussian
Constitutional Assembly, which was opened by the King in May. This
body numbered few eminent members, the best men having been sent to
Frankfort. Berlin was in an almost anarchic condition; the arsenal was
stormed and plundered, the political clubs terrorised and coerced the
Assembly. It rejected the constitution proposed by the government as
not sufficiently democratic. The result of this was a first change of
ministry. The new ministry made proposals which coincided more closely
with the wishes of the Assembly, but found themselves unable to agree
to the demand of the majority that it should be made a point of honour
with all officers who disapproved of the new constitution to leave
the army. A third ministry, with Pfuel for its leader, was formed. On
the last day of October, while the Assembly was debating an appeal to
the government "to support, by every means in its power, the cause of
popular liberty, at present endangered in Vienna," a mob broke in on
the meeting, attempted to influence its decision by violent means,
and insulted the Pfuel ministry. Then this ministry too resigned, and
on the 2nd of November the King put the reins of government into the
hands of a war ministry, with his step-uncle, Count Brandenburg, at its
head. This new government decreed the transference of the Assembly from
Berlin to Brandenburg, and brought the troops that had just returned
from Denmark under General Wrangel to Berlin. The citizens were
disarmed and a state of siege was proclaimed.
The revolutions of Vienna and Berlin had been fruitless; alike
fruitless were the proceedings of the first German Parliament
(Reichstag), which met at Frankfort on the 18th of May 1848, and was
forcibly dispersed by troops at Stuttgart on the 18th of June 1849.
The President it chose, Archduke John, did his best to subject it
to the domination of Austria; it made a vain offer of the imperial
crown of Germany to Frederick William IV. in April 1849; its sacred
inviolability was disregarded as early as November 1848, when
Windischgrätz ordered the execution of one of its members, Robert Blum,
at Brigittenau; it lost importance as a representative assembly by the
gradual desertion of its conservative members. When it was dispersed at
Stuttgart, the reaction was once more triumphant throughout Europe:
"Da sah man die letzten der Getreuen,
Die ausgeharrt beim Heiland, zerstreuen
Sich, wandernd nach alien Seiten und Winden,
Das Wort des Heiles zu verkünden,
Wohl wissend, dass ein langes Exil
Und Armuth, Noth und Dulden ihr Ziel,
Und Qual und Tod und Kerkermauern.
'Das Wort des Heils wird sie überdauern'
Das merkt euch, ihr Knechte und blutigen Horden:
Das Wort ist Fleisch und ist Gott geworden.[15]
Thus sang Moritz Hartmann, one of the last of the faithful. He rightly
felt that the ideas survived the outward changes.
By the end of 1848 the poets of the revolution had nothing left to
sing of but fallen heroes and extinguished hopes. Among these poets
Freiligrath and Hartmann rank highest, and as typical of the elegies
written on the fallen heroes, we may take the verses composed by these
two authors on Robert Blum, whose firm, gentle character, simplicity,
and prudence, stamped him in the minds of his contemporaries as the
ideal of a popular leader.
In his _Reimchronik_ Hartmann writes mournfully:
"So ruhe sanft und gut, mein Robert!
Nicht braucht's der Wunsch, dass leicht dir werde
Die blutgetränkte Wiener Erde,
Der Boden, den du dir erobert.
Du bist nicht todt, trotz aller Klage
Des deutschen Volks, trotz aller Lieder.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ein Mythus geht: der Robert lebt,
Der Robert Blum, den sie erschossen
Und jedes deutsche Herz erbebt:
Das theure Blut ist nicht geflossen--
Die Hoffnung raunt uns in die Ohren:
Entflort, entflort die Trikoloren,
Noch, noch ist Deutschland nicht verloren.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Allüberall ist der dabei!
Er wendet mit den Geisterhänden
Und fängt mit seiner Brust das Blei,
Das uns die Fürstenväter senden.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Und wandeln muss er, bis entrafft
Das deutsche Volk sich dem Verräther
Bis er entfürstet und entpfafft
Den heilgen Boden seiner Väter."[16]
And a week after Blum's death, Freiligrath writes the magnificent
verses on the commemoration service in the Cathedral of Cologne, where
the mighty organ pealed forth Neukomm's requiem music:
"Und heut in diesem selben Köln zum Weh'n des Winterwindes
Und zu der Orgel Brausen schallt das Grablied dieses Kindes.
Nicht singt die Ueberlebende, die Mutter, es dem Sohne:
Das ganze schmerzbewegte Köln singt es mit festem Tone.
Es spricht: Du, deren Schoos ihn trug, bleib still auf deinem Kammer!
Vor deinem Gott, du graues Haupt, ausströme deinen Jammer;
Auch ich bin seine Mutter, Weib! Ich und noch eine Hohe--
Ich und die Revolution, die hohe, lichterlohe!
Bleib du daheim mit deinem Schmerz! wir wahren seine Ehre--
Des Robert Requiem singt Köln, die revolutionäre.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Was greift ihr zu den Schwertern nicht, Ihr Singer und Ihr Beter?
Was werdet Ihr Posaunen nicht, Ihr ehr'nen Orgeltuben,
Den jüngsten Tag ins Ohr zu schrein den Henkern und den Buben?
Den Henkern, die ihn hingestreckt auf der Brigittenaue--
Auf festen Knien lag er da im ersten Morgenthaue!
Dann sank er hin--hin in sein Blut--lautlos!--heut vor acht Tagen!
Zwei Kugeln haben ihm die Brust, eine das Haupt zerschlagen."[17]
It is to Hartmann's _Reimchronik des Pfaffen Mauritius_ that we must
have recourse if we desire to view all the successive events and
impressions of 1848 in the mirror of poetry. Many of the details
of this poem have become difficult to understand; the reader of
to-day comes upon lists of names, of whose owners he knows little or
nothing--men like Bassermann, the parliamentary debater, and Hansemann,
the financier, in their day famous members of the Parliament of
Frankfort, now forgotten--but from parts of it, without the assistance
of any commentary, he gains a vivid impression of men's feelings, of
their exalted frame of mind, in that year of revolution. Very affecting
is a final outburst, in which the poet bewails the want of men:
"Ich seh' Gelehrte und Professoren
Und Präsidenten und Assessoren,
Weinküfer seh' ich und Redakteure
Superintendenten und Accoucheure
Und Börsenleute und Zeitungsschreiber,
Astronomen und Steuereintreiber,
Lumpenhändler und Alterthumskenner,
Biedermänner, Hansemänner, Bassermänner--
Allein wo sind die _Männer_, die _Männer?_ "[18]
When Hartmann wrote these words he was living on the shores of the Lake
of Geneva, a banished man, and the best men of Germany and Austria who
had survived the great discomfiture were either in prison or, like
himself, in exile.
1848 is a year of no decisive political significance, although it
was in this year that the old order of things was for the first time
disturbed simultaneously in almost every country of Europe. The
local revolutions of 1789 and 1830, whatever they resulted in, were
successful revolutions, but the general European revolution of 1848 was
nothing in any single country but an unsuccessful attempt.
Yet 1848 is a year of great spiritual significance. After it men
feel and think and write quite otherwise than they did before it. In
literature it is the red line of separation that divides our century
and marks the beginning of a new era. It was a year of jubilee, like
that instituted by the old Hebrew law, that fiftieth year, in which
the trumpet was to be sounded throughout all the land, which was to be
hallowed, and in which liberty was to be proclaimed "throughout all the
land unto all the inhabitants thereof" (Lev. xxv. 8, &c). This year,
with its quick heart-beat, its all-subduing youthful ardour, was, like
that Bible year of jubilee, a year of returning into possession, a year
of redemption, in which "they that had been sold were redeemed again."
To this day we imbibe youthful enthusiasm from its days of March and
learn important lessons from its days of November.
It is the year of jubilee, the year of mourning, the boundary year.
[1] 'Twas in the mountains the first shot was fired--in the mountains,
against the priests! That shot loosened the avalanche--three countries
sprang to arms! Switzerland can already rest on her laurels; the
eternal mountains are trembling to their centres with joy.
The sport soon spread to Italy--Scylla and Charybdis, Vesuvius and
Etna broke loose; explosion upon explosion, blow upon blow!' "This is
becoming serious, my royal, my imperial brother!" is the message from
Vienna to Berlin, from Berlin to Vienna; even Nick begins to tremble.
And now the paving-stones are once more torn up, the stones of those
streets on to which ere now two kings have been ruthlessly flung by
armed liberty.
[2] In front of the castle in threatening line stand the cannon,
awaiting the word of command--the gates are shuddering and
yielding--the moment has come, brave gunner!