Coxe, Schneller, Mailath, Chmel, and Gervay also wrote histories of Austria, Schottky and Palacky of Bohemia, Beda, Weber, and Hormayr of the Tyrol, Voigt of the Teutonic Order, Manso, Stenzel, Foerster, Dolum, Massenbach, Coelln, Preusz, etc., of the Kingdom of Prussia, Stenzel of Anhalt, Kobbe of Lauenburg, Luetzow of Mecklenburg, Barthold of Pomerania, Kobbe of Holstein, Wimpfen of Schleswig, Sartorius and Lappenberg of the Hansa, Hanssen of the Ditmarses, Spittler, Havemann, and Strombeck of Brunswick and Hanover, van Kampen of Holland, Warnkoenig of Flanders, Rommel of Hesse, Lang of Eastern Franconia, Wachter and Langenn of Thuringia and Saxony, Lang, Wolf, Mannert, Zschokke, Voelderndorf of Bavaria, Pfister, Pfaff, and Staelin of Swabia, Glutz-Blotzheim, Hottinger, Meyer von Knonau, Zschokke, Haller, Schuler, etc., of Switzerland. The most remarkable among the histories of celebrated cities are those of St. Gall by Arx, of Vienna by Mailath, of Frankfort on the Maine by Kirchner, of Ulm and Heilbronn by Jaeger, of Rotenburg on the Tauber by Bensen, etc.

Ritter, and, next to him, Berghaus, greatly extended the knowledge of geography. Maps were drawn out on a greatly improved scale. Alexander von Humboldt, who ruled the world with his scientific as Napoleon with his eagle glance, attained the highest repute among travellers of every nation. Krusenstern, Langsdorf, and Kotzebue, Germans in the service of Russia, circumnavigated the globe. Meyen, the noted botanist, did the same in a Prussian ship. Baron von Huegel explored India. Guetzlaff acted as a missionary in China. Ermann and Ledebur explored Siberia; Klaproth, Kupfer, Parrot, and Eichwald, the Caucasian provinces; Burckhardt, Rueppell, Ehrenberg, and Russegger, Syria and Egypt; the Prince von Neuwied and Paul William, duke of Wuertemberg, North America; Becher, Mexico; Schomburg, Guiana; the Prince von Neuwied and Martius, the Brazils; Poeppig, the banks of the Amazon; Rengger, Paraguay. The Missionary Society for the conversion of the heathen in distant parts and that for the propagation of the gospel, founded at Basel, 1816, have gained well-merited repute.

At the commencement of the present century, amid the storms of war, German taste took a fresh bias. French frivolity had increased immorality to a degree hitherto unknown. Licentiousness reigned unrestrained on the stage and pervaded the lighter productions of the day. If Iffland had, not unsuccessfully, represented the honest citizens and peasantry of Germany struggling against the unnatural customs of modern public life, Augustus von Kotzebue, who, after him, ruled the German stage, sought, on the contrary, to render honor despicable and to encourage the license of the day. In the numerous romances, a tone of lewd sentimentality took the place of the strict propriety for which they had formerly been remarkable, and the general diffusion of these immoral productions, among which the romances of Lafontaine may be more particularly mentioned, contributed in no slight degree to the moral perversion of the age.

Jean Paul Friedrich Richter stands completely alone. He shared the weaknesses of his times, which, like Goethe and Kotzebue, he both admired and ridiculed, passing with extraordinary versatility, almost in the same breath, from the most moving pathos to the bitterest satire. His clever but too deeply metaphysical romances are not only full of domestic sentimentality and domestic scenes, but they also imitate the over-refinement and effeminacy of Goethe, and yet his sound understanding and warm patriotic feelings led him to condemn all the artificial follies of fashion, all that was unnatural as well as all that was unjust.

Modern philosophy had no sooner triumphed over ancient religion and France over Germany than an extraordinary reaction, inaptly termed the romantic, took place in poetry. Although Ultramontanism might be traced even in Friedrich Schlegel, this school of poetry nevertheless solely owes its immense importance to its resuscitation of the older poetry of Germany, and to the success with which it opposed Germanism to Gallicism. Ludwig Tieck exclusively devoted himself to the German and romantic Middle Ages, to the Minnesingers, to Shakespeare, Cervantes, and Calderon, and modelled his own on their immortal works. The eyes of his contemporaries were by him first completely opened to the long-misunderstood beauties of the Middle Ages. His kindred spirit, Novalis (Hardenberg), destined to a too brief career, gave proofs of signal talent. Heinrich von Kleist, who committed suicide, left the finest-spirited and most delightful dramas. Ludwig Achim von Arnim, like Tieck, cultivated the older German Saga; his only fault was that, led away by the richness of his imagination, he overcolored his descriptions. Aided by Brentano, he collected the finest of the popular ballads of Germany in "des Enaben Wunderhorn." At Berlin, Fouque, with true old German taste, revived the romances of chivalry and, shortly before 1813, met the military spirit once more rising in Prussia with a number of romances in which figured battle-steeds and coats of mail, German faith and bravery, valiant knights and chaste dames, intermixed, it must be confessed, with a good deal of affectation. On the discovery being made that many of the ancient German ballads were still preserved among the lower classes, chiefly among the mountaineers, they were also sought for, and some poets tuned their lyres on the naive popular tone, etc., first, Hebel, in the partly extremely natural, partly extremely affected, Alemannic songs, which have found frequent imitators. Zacharia Werner and Hoffiman, on the other hand, exclusively devoted themselves to the darker side of days of yore, to their magic and superstition, and filled the world, already terror-stricken by the war, with supernatural stories. Still, throughout one and all of these productions, curiously as they contrasted, the same inclination to return to and to revive a purely German style was evident. At that moment the great crisis suddenly took place. Before even the poets could predict the event, Germany cast off the yoke of Napoleon, and the German "Sturm and Freiheitslieder" of Theodor Koerner, Arndt, Schenkendorf, etc., chimed in like a fearfully beautiful Allegro with the Adagio of their predecessors.

This was in a manner also the finale of the German notes that so strangely resounded in that Gallic time; the restoration suppressed every further outburst of patriotism, and the patriotic spirit that had begun to breathe forth in verse once more gave place to cosmopolitism and Gallicism. The lyric school, founded by Ludwig Uhland, alone preserved a German spirit and a connection with the ancient Minnelieder of Swabia.

The new cosmopolitic tendency of the poetry of these times is chiefly due to the influence exercised by Goethe. The quick comprehension and ready adoption of every novelty is a faculty of, not a fault in, the German character, and alone becomes reprehensible when the German, forgetful of himself and of his own peculiar characteristics, adopts a medley of foreign incongruities and falsifies whatever ought to be preserved special and true. Goethe and his school, however, not content with imitating singly the style of every nation and of every period, have interwoven the most diverse strains, antique and romantic, old German and modern French, Grecian and Chinese, in one and the same poem. This unnatural style, itself destructive of the very peculiarity at which it aims, has infected both modern poetry and modern art; the architect intermixes the Grecian and the Gothic in his creations, while the painter seeks to unite the styles of the Flemish and Italian schools in his productions, and the poet those of Persia, Scandinavia, and Spain, in his strains.—Those are indeed deserving of gratitude who have comprehended and preserved the character peculiar to the productions of foreign art, in which the brothers Friedrich and August Wilhelm Schlegel have been so eminently successful. Hammer and, after him, Ruckert have also opened the Eastern world to our view. Count Platen, on the other hand, hung fluctuating between the antique Persian and German.—Cosmopolitism was greatly strengthened by the historical romances in vogue in England, descriptive of olden time, and which found innumerable imitators in Germany. They were, at all events, thus far beneficial; they led us from the parlor into the world.

But no sooner was genuine German taste neglected for that of foreign nations than Gallomania revived; all were compelled to pay homage to the spirit and the tone prevalent throughout Europe. The witty aristocratic medisance and grim spirit of rebellion emulating each other in France, were, in Germany, represented by Prince Piichler, the most spirituel drawing-room satirist, and by the Jew, Boerne, the most spirited Jacobin of the day. The open infidelity again demonstrated in France, also led to its introduction into Germany by the Jew, Heine, while the immoral romances with which that country was deluged speedily became known to us through the medium of the translations and imitations of "Young Germany," and were incredibly increased by our literary industry; all the lying memoirs, in which the French falsify history, view Napoleon as a demigod, and treat the enthusiasm with which the Germans were animated in 1813 with derision, were also diligently translated. This tendency to view everything German with French eyes and to ridicule German honor and German manners was especially promoted by the light literature, and numerous journals of the day, and was, in the universities, in close connection with the anti-christian tendency of the school of Hegel.—The late Catholic reaction, too exclusively political, has as yet exercised no influence over the literary world, and would scarcely succeed in gaining any, being less German than Roman.

While German poetry follows so false a course, it naturally follows that art also must be deprived of its natural character. Architecture has, it is true, abandoned the periwig style of France, but the purer antique or Byzantine taste to which it has returned is generally insipidly simple, while the attempts at Gothic and Moorish are truly miserable. A more elevated feeling than the present generation (which, in Goethe's manner, delights in trifling alternately with every style, or is completely enslaved by the modes imposed by France) is fitted to comprehend, is requisite for the revival of German or Gothic architecture. Still it may be, as is hoped, that the intention to complete the building of the Cologne cathedral will not be entirely without a beneficial influence.

The art of painting aspires far more energetically toward national emancipation. In the present century, the modern French style affecting the antique presented a complete contrast with the German romantic school, which, in harmony with the simultaneous romantic reaction in the poetical world, returned to the sacred simplicity of the ancient German and Italian masters. Overbeck was in this our greatest master. Since this period, the two great schools at Munich and Dusseldorf, founded by Peter Cornelius, and whose greatest masters are Peter Hesz, Bendemann, Lessing, Kaulbach, etc., have sought a middle path, and with earnest zeal well and skilfully opposed the too narrow imitation of, and the medley of style produced by the study of, the numerous old masters on the one hand, and, on the other, the search for effect, that Gallic innovation so generally in vogue. Were the church again to require pictures, or the state to employ the pencil of the patriot artist in recording the great deeds of past or present times or in the adornment of public edifices, painting would be elevated to its proper sphere.—Germany has also produced many celebrated engravers, among whom Muller holds precedence. Lithography, now an art of so much importance, was invented by the Bavarian, Senefelder. The art of painting on glass has also been revived.

In music, the Germans have retained their ancient fame. After Mozart, Beethoven, Weber, etc., have gained immense celebrity as composers. Still, much that is unnatural, affected, bizarre and licentious has crept into the compositions of the German masters, more particularly in the operas, owing to the imitation of the modern Italian and French composers. A popular reaction has, however, again taken place, and, as before, in choral music, by means of the "singing clubs," which become more and more general among the people.

The stage has most deeply degenerated. At the commencement of the present century, its mimic scenes afforded a species of consolation for the sad realities of life, and formed the Lethe in whose waters oblivion was gladly sought. The public afterward became so practical in its tastes, so sober in its desires, that neither the spirit of the actor nor the coquetry of the actress had power to attract an audience. The taste and love for art were superseded by criticism and low intrigues, the theatre became a mere political engine, intended to divert the thoughts of the population, of the great cities from the discussion of topics dangerous to the state by the all-engrossing charms of actresses and ballet-dancers.

The Germans, although much more practical in the present than in the past century, are still far from having freed themselves from the unjust, unfitting, and inconvenient situation into which they have fallen as time and events rolled on.

A mutual understanding in regard to the external position of the German in reference to the Slavonian nation has scarcely begun to dawn upon us. Scarcely have we become sensible to the ignominious restrictions imposed upon German commerce by the prohibitory regulations of Russia, by the customs levied in the Sound, on the Elbe, and Rhine. Scarcely has the policy that made such immense concessions to Russian diplomacy, and scarcely has the party spirit that looked for salvation for Germany from France, yielded to a more elevated feeling of self-respect. And yet, whoever should say to the people of Alsace, Switzerland, and Holland, "Ye are Germans," would reap but derision and insult. Germany is on the point of being once more divided into Catholic and Protestant Germany, and no one can explain how the German Customs' Union is to extend to the German Ocean, on account of the restrictions mutually imposed by the Germans. Could we but view ourselves as the great nation we in reality are, attain to a consciousness of the immeasurable strength we in reality possess, and make use of it in order to satisfy our wants, the Germans would be thoroughly a practical nation, instead of lying like a dead lion among the nations of Europe, and unresistingly suffering them to mock, tread underfoot, nay, deprive him of his limbs, as though he were a miserable, helpless worm.

More, far more has been done for the better regulation of the internal economy of Germany than for her external protection and power. The reforms suited to the age, commenced by the philosophical princes and ministers of the past century, have been carried on by Prussia in her hour of need, by constitutional Germany by constitutional means. Everywhere have the public administration been better regulated, despotism been restrained by laws, financial affairs been settled even under the heavy pressure of the national debts. Commerce, manufactural industry, and agriculture have been greatly promoted by the Customs' Union, by government aid and model institutions, by the improvements in the post-offices, by the laying of roads and railways. The public burdens and public debts, nevertheless, still remain disproportionately heavy on account of the enormous military force which the great states are compelled to maintain for the preservation of their authority, and on account of the polyarchical state of Germany, which renders the maintenance of an enormous number of courts, governments, general staffs and chambers necessary.

The popular sense of justice and legality, never entirely suppressed throughout Germany, also gave fresh proof of its existence under the new state of affairs, partly in the endlessly drawn-out proceedings in the chambers, partly in the incredible number of new laws and regulations in the different states. Still, industriously as these laws have been compiled, no real, essential, German law, neither public nor private, has been discovered. The Roman and French codes battled with each other and left no room for the establishment of a code fundamentally and thoroughly German. The most distinguished champions of the common rights of the people against cabinet-justice, the tyranny of the police and of the censor, were principally advocates and savants. The Estates, as corporations, were scarcely any longer represented. The majority of governments, ruled by the principle of absolute monarchy and the chambers, ruled by that of democracy, had, since the age of philosophy, been unanimous in setting the ancient Estates aside. The nobility alone preserved certain privileges, and the Catholic clergy alone regained some of those they had formerly enjoyed; all the Estates were, in every other respect, placed on a level. The ancient and national legal rights of the people were consequently widely trenched upon.

The emancipation of the peasant from the oppressive feudal dues, and the abolition of the restraint imposed by the laws of the city corporations, which had so flagrantly been abused, were indubitably well intended, but, instead of stopping there, good old customs, that ought only to have been freed from the weeds with which they had been overgrown, were totally eradicated. The peasant received a freehold, but was, by means of his enfranchisement, generally laden with debts, and, while pride whispered in his ear that he was now a lord of the soil and might assume the costume of his superiors, the land, whence he had to derive his sustenance, was gradually diminished in extent by the systematic division of property. His pretensions increased exactly in the ratio in which the means for satisfying them decreased; and the necessity of raising money placed him in the hands of Jews. The smaller the property by reason of subdivision, the more frequently is land put up for sale, the deeper is the misery of the homeless outcast. The restoration of the inalienable, indivisible allod and of the federal rights of the peasant, as in olden times, would have been far more to the purpose.—Professional liberty and the introduction of mechanism and manufactural industry have annihilated every warrant formerly afforded by the artificer as master and member of a city corporation, and, at the same time, every warrant afforded to him by the community of his being able to subsist by means of his industry. Manufactures on an extensive scale that export their produce must at all events be left unrestricted, but the small trades carried on within a petty community, their only market, excite, when free, a degree of competition which is necessarily productive both of bad workmanship and poverty, and the superfluous artificers, unaided by their professional freedom, fall bankrupt and become slaves in the establishments of their wealthier[1] competitors. The restoration of the city guilds under restrictions suitable to the times would have been far more judicious.

The maintenance of a healthy, contented class of citizens and peasants ought to be one of the principal aims of every German statesman. The fusion of these ancient and powerful classes into one common mass whence but a few wealthy individuals rise to eminence would be fatal to progression in Germany. By far the greater part of the people have already lost the means of subsistence formerly secured to all, nay, even to the serf, by the privileges of his class. The insecure possession, the endless division and alienation of property, an anxious dread of loss, and a rapacious love of gain, have become universal. Care for the means of daily existence, like creeping poison, unnerves the population. The anxious solicitude to which this gives rise has a deeply demoralizing effect. Even offices under government are less sought for from motives of ambition than as a means of subsistence; the arts and sciences have been degraded to mere sources of profit, envious trade decides questions of the highest importance, the torch of Hymen is lit by Plutus, not at the shrine of Love; and in the bosom of the careworn father of a family, whose scanty subsistence depends upon a patron's smile, the words "fatherland" and "glory" find no responsive echo.

Among the educated classes this state of poverty is allied with the most inconsistent luxury. Each and all, however poor, are anxious to preserve an appearance of wealth or to raise credit by that means. All, however needy, must be fashionable. The petty tradesman and the peasant ape their superiors in rank, and the old-fashioned but comfortable and picturesque national costume is being gradually thrown aside for the ever-varying modes prescribed by Paris to the world. The inordinate love of amusements in which the lower classes and the proletariat, ever increasing in number, seek more particularly to drown the sense of misery, is another and a still greater source of public demoralization. The general habit of indulging in the use of spirituous liquors has been rightfully designated the brandy pest, owing to its lamentable moral and physical effect upon the population. This pest was encouraged not alone by private individuals, who gain their livelihood by disseminating it among the people, but also by governments, which raised a large revenue by its means; and the temperance societies, lately founded, but slightly stem the evil.

The public authorities throughout Germany have, it must be confessed, displayed extraordinary solicitude for the poor by the foundation of charitable institutions of every description, but they have contented themselves with merely alleviating misery instead of removing its causes; and the benevolence that raised houses of correction, poor-houses, and hospitals, is rendered null by the laxity of the legislation. No measures are taken by the governments to provide means for emigration, to secure to the peasant his freehold, to the artificer the guarantee he ought to receive and to give, and the maintenance of the public morals. The punishment awarded for immorality and theft is so mild as to deprive them of the character of crime, pamphlets and works of the most immoral description are dispersed by means of the circulating libraries among all classes, and the bold infidelity preached even from the universities is left unchecked. But—is not the thief taught morality in the house of correction? and are not diseases, the result of license, cured in the hospitals with unheard-of humanity?

Private morality, so long preserved free from contamination, although all has for so long conspired against the liberty and unity of Germany, is greatly endangered. Much may, however, be hoped for from the sound national sense. The memory of the strength displayed by Germany in 1813 has been eradicated neither by the contempt of France or Russia, by any reactionary measure within Germany herself, by social and literary corruption, nor by the late contest between church and state. The Customs' Union has, notwithstanding the difference in political principle, brought despotic Prussia and constitutional Germany one step nearer. The influence of Russia on the one hand, of that of France on the other, has sensibly decreased. The irreligious and immoral tendencies now visible will, as has ever been the case in Germany, produce a reaction, and, when the necessity is more urgently felt, fitting measures will be adopted for the prevention of pauperism. The dangers with which Germany is externally threatened will also compel governments, however egotistical and indifferent, to seek their safety in unity, and even should the long neglect of this truth be productive of fresh calamity and draw upon Germany a fresh attack from abroad, that very circumstance will but strengthen our union and accelerate the regeneration of our great fatherland, already anticipated by the people on the fall of the Hohenstaufen.

[Footnote 1: Because more skilful.—Trans.]



CCLXXIV. German Emigrants

The overplus population of Germany has ever emigrated; in ancient times, for the purpose of conquering foreign powers; in modern times, for that of serving under them. In the days of German heroism, our conquering hordes spread toward the west and south, over Italy, Gaul, Spain, Africa, England, and Iceland; during the Middle Ages, our mail-clad warriors took an easterly direction and overran the Slavonian countries, besides Prussia, Transylvania, and Palestine; in modern times, our religious and political refugees have emigrated in scarcely less considerable numbers to countries far more distant, but in the humble garb of artificers and beggars, the Pariahs of the world. Our ancient warriors gained undying fame and long maintained the influence and the rule of Germany in foreign lands. Our modern emigrants have, unnoted, quitted their native country, and, as early as the second generation, intermixed with the people among whom they settled. Hundreds of thousands of Germans have in this manner aided to aggrandize the British colonies, and Germany has derived no benefit from the emigration of her sons.

The first great mass of religious refugees threw itself into Holland and into the Dutch colonies, the greater part of which have since passed into the hands of the British. The illiberality of the Dutch caused the second great mass to bend its steps to British North America, within whose wilds every sect found an asylum. William Penn, the celebrated Quaker, visited Germany, and, in 1683, gave permission to some Germans to settle in the province named, after him, Pennsylvania, where they founded the city of German town.[1] These fortunate emigrants were annually followed by thousands of exiled Protestants, principally from Alsace and the Palatinate. The industry and honesty for which the German workmen were remarkable caused some Englishmen to enter into a speculation to procure their services as white slaves. The greatest encouragement was accordingly given by them to emigration from Germany, but the promises so richly lavished were withdrawn on the unexpected emigration of thirty-three thousand of the inhabitants of the Palatinate, comprising entire communes headed by their preachers, evidently an unlooked and unwished for multitude. These emigrants reached London abandoned by their patrons and disavowed by the government. A fearful fate awaited them. After losing considerable numbers from starvation in England, the greater part of the survivors were compelled to work like slaves in the mines and in the cultivation of uninhabited islands; three thousand six hundred of them were sent over to Ireland, where they swelled the number of beggars; numbers were lost at sea, and seven thousand of them returned in despair, in a state of utter destitution, to their native country. A small number of them, however, actually sailed for New York, where they were allotted portions of the primitive forests, which they cleared and cultivated; but they had no sooner raised flourishing villages in the midst of rich cornfields and gardens, than they were informed that the ground belonged to the state and were driven from the home they had so lately found. Pennsylvania opened a place of refuge to the wanderers.[2]

The religious persecution and the increasing despotism of the governments in Germany meanwhile incessantly drove fresh emigrants to America, where, as they were generally sent to the extreme verge of the provinces in order to clear the ground and drive away the aborigines, numbers of them were murdered by the Indians. Switzerland also sent forth many emigrants, who settled principally in North Carolina. The people of Salzburg, whose expulsion has been detailed above, colonized Georgia in 1732. In 1742, there were no fewer than a hundred thousand Germans in North America, and, since that period, their number has been continually on the increase. Thousands annually arrived; for instance, in the years 1749 and 1750, seven thousand; in 1754, as many as twenty-two thousand; in 1797, six thousand Swabians. The famine of 1770, the participation of German mercenaries in the wars of the British in North America, at first against the French colonies, afterward against the English colonists (the German prisoners generally settled in the country), induced the Germans to emigrate in such great numbers that, from 1770 to 1791, twenty-four emigrant ships on an average arrived annually at Philadelphia, without reckoning those that landed in the other harbors.[3]

The passage by sea to the west being continually closed during the great wars with France, the stream of emigration took an easterly direction overland. Russia had extended her conquests toward Persia and Turkey. The necessity of fixing colonies in the broad steppes as in the primitive forests of America, to serve as a barrier against the wild frontier tribes, was plainly perceived by the Russian government, and Germans were once more made use of for this purpose. Extensive colonies, which at the present date contain hundreds of thousands of German inhabitants, but whose history is as yet unknown, were accordingly formed northward of the Black and Caspian Seas. Swabian villages were also built on the most southern frontier of Russia toward Persia, and in 1826 suffered severely from an inroad of the Persians.

The fall of Napoleon had no sooner reopened the passage by sea than the tide of emigration again turned toward North America. These emigrants, the majority of whom consisted of political malcontents, preferred the land of liberty to the steppes of Russia, whither sectarians and those whom the demoralization and irreligion of the Gallomanic period had filled with disgust had chiefly resorted. The Russo-Teuto colonies are proverbial for purity and strictness of morals. One Wurtemberg sectarian alone, the celebrated Rapp, succeeded during the period of the triumph of France in emigrating to Pennsylvania, where he founded the Harmony, a petty religious community. An inconsiderable number of Swiss, dissatisfied with Napoleon's supremacy, also emigrated in 1805 and built New Vevay. But it was not until after the wars, more particularly during the famine in 1816 and 1817, that emigration across the sea was again carried on to a considerable extent. In 1817, thirty thousand Swiss, Wurtembergers, Hessians, and inhabitants of the Palatinate emigrated, and about an equal number were compelled to retrace their steps from the seacoast in a state of extreme destitution on account of their inability to pay their passage and of the complete want of interest in their behalf displayed by the governments. Political discontent increased in 1818 and 1819, and each succeeding spring thirty thousand Germans sailed down the Rhine to the land of liberty in the far west. In 1820, a society was set on foot at Berne for the protection of the Swiss emigrants from the frauds practiced upon the unwary. The union of the Archduchess Leopoldine, daughter to the emperor Francis, with Dom Pedro, the emperor of the Brazils, had, since 1817, attracted public attention to South America. Dom Pedro took German mercenaries into his service for the purpose of keeping his wild subjects within bounds, and the fruitful land offered infinite advantages to the German agriculturist; but colonization was rendered impracticable by the revolutionary disorders and by the ill-will of the natives toward the settlers, and the Germans who had been induced to emigrate either enlisted as soldiers or perished. Several among them, who have published their adventures in the Brazils, bitterly complained of the conduct of Major Schaefer, who had been engaged in collecting recruits at Hamburg for the Brazils. They even accused him of having allowed numbers of their fellow-countrymen to starve to death from motives of gain, so much a head being paid to him on his arrival in the Brazils for the men shipped from Europe whether they arrived dead or alive. The publication of these circumstances completely checked the emigration to the Brazils, and North America was again annually, particularly in 1827 and after the July revolution, overrun with Germans, and they have even begun to take part in the polity of the United States. The peasants, who have been settled for a considerable period, and who have insensibly acquired great wealth and have retained the language and customs of their native country, form the flower of the German colonists in the West.[4]

In the Cape colonies, the Dutch peasants, the boors, feeling themselves oppressed by the English government, emigrated en masse, in 1837, to the north, where they settled with the Caffres, and, under their captain, Praetorius, founded an independent society, in 1839, at Port Natal, where they again suffered a violent aggression on the part of the British.

Thus are Germans fruitlessly scattered far and wide over the face of the globe, while on the very frontiers of Germany nature has designated the Danube as the near and broad path for emigration and colonization to her overplus population, which, by settling in her vicinity, would at once increase her external strength and extend her influence.

[Footnote 1: The abolition of negro slavery was first mooted by Germans in 1688, at the great Quaker meeting in North America.]

[Footnote 2: Account of the United States by Eggerling.]

[Footnote 3: One of the most distinguished Germans in America was a person named John Jacob Astor, the son of a bailiff at Walldorf near Heidelberg, who was brought up as a furrier, emigrated to America, where he gradually became the wealthiest of all furriers, founded at his own expense the colony of Astoria, on the northwestern coast of North America, so interestingly described by Washington Irving, and the Astor fund, intended as a protection to German emigrants to America from the frauds practiced on the unwary. He resided at New York. He possessed an immense fortune and was highly and deservedly esteemed for his extraordinary philanthropy.]

[Footnote 4: The Allgemeine Zeitung of September, 1837, reports that there were at that time one hundred and fifty-seven thousand Germans in North America who were still unnaturalized, consequently had emigrated thither within the last two or three years. In Philadelphia alone there were seventy-five thousand Germans. Grund says in his work, "The Americans in 1837," "The peaceable disposition of the Germans prevents their interfering with politics, although their number is already considerable enough for the formation of a powerful party. They possess, notwithstanding, great weight in the government of Pennsylvania, in which State the governors have since the revolution always been Germans. This is in fact so well understood on all sides that even during the last election, when two democrats and a Whig candidate contended for the dignity of governor, they were all three Germans by birth and no other would have had the slightest chance of success. In the State of Ohio there are at the present date, although that province was first colonized by New-English, no fewer than forty-five thousand Germans possessed of the right of voting. The State of New York, although originally colonized by Dutch, contains a numerous German population in several of its provinces, particularly in that of Columbia, the birthplace of Martin Van Buren, the present Vice-President and future President of the republic. The State of Maryland numbers twenty-five thousand Germans possessed of votes; almost one-third of the population of Illinois is German, and thousands of fresh emigrants are settling in the valley of the Mississippi. I believe that the number of German voters or of voters of German descent may, without exaggeration, be reckoned on an average annually at four hundred thousand, and certainly in less than twenty years hence at a million. In the city of New York, the Germans greatly influence the election of the burgomaster and other city authorities by holding no fewer than three thousand five hundred votes. These circumstances naturally render the German vote an object of zealous contention for politicians of every party, and there is accordingly no dearth of German newspapers in any of the German settlements. In Pennsylvania, upward of thirty German (principally weekly) papers are in circulation, and about an equal number are printed and published in the State of Ohio. A scarcely lower number are also in circulation in Maryland."]



Supplementary Chapter

From The Fall of Napoleon to the Present Day

The Confederation of the Rhine, wounded to the death by the campaign of 1812, was killed by the fall of Napoleon. From that event to the present time the accompanying pages must be restricted to a consideration of those matters which have been of capital importance to the German people. These matters may be summarized as consisting in the formation of the German Confederation, the Danish war, the Austro-Prussian war, the Franco-Prussian war, and the refounding of the empire.

As the fall of Sennacherib was sung by the Hebrews, so was the fall of Napoleon sung by the Germans. They had been at his mercy. He had deposed their sovereigns, dismembered their states, crippled their trade, and exhausted their resources. Yet in 1814, by the Peace of Paris, they had restored to them all they had possessed in 1792, but as a reconstruction of the former empire was impracticable, those states which still maintained their sovereignty coalesced.

This was in 1815. At the time there remained of the three hundred states into which the empire had originally been divided but thirty-nine, a number afterward reduced, through the extinction of four minor dynasties, to thirty-five. A diet, recognized as the legislative and executive organ of the Confederation, was instituted at Frankfort. Instead, however, of satisfying the expectations of the nation, it degenerated into a political tool, which princes manipulated, which they made subservient to their inherent conservatism, and with which they oppressed their subjects. The French revolution of 1830 influenced to a certain extent their attitude, and a few of them were induced to accord constitutions to their people, but the effect was transient. Reforms which had been stipulated they managed to ignore. It took the insurrectionary movements of 1848 to shake them on their thrones. Forced then to admit the inefficiency of the diet, and attempting by hasty concessions to check the progress of republican principles, they consented to the convocation of a national assembly. Over this body the Archduke John of Austria was elected to preside. The choice was not happy. Measures which he failed to facilitate he succeeded in frustrating. As a consequence, matters went from bad to worse, until, after the refusal of the king of Prussia to accept the imperial crown which was offered to him in 1849 and the election of a provisional regency which ensued, the assembly lapsed into a condition of impotence which terminated in its dissolution.

Meanwhile republican demonstrations having been forcibly suppressed, there arose between Prussia and Austria a feeling of jealousy, if not of ill-will, which more than once indicated war, and which, though resulting in the restoration of the diet and temporarily diverted by a joint attack on Denmark, culminated in the battle of Sadowa.

Into the details of this attack it is unnecessary to enter. The casus belli was apparently an entirely virtuous endeavor to settle the respective claims of the king of Denmark and the duke of Augustenburg to the sovereignty of Schleswig-Holstein. The fashion in which the claims were settled consisted in wiping them out. The direction not merely of Schleswig-Holstein but of Lauenberg was assumed by Austria and Prussia, who, by virtue of a treaty signed October 30, 1864, took upon themselves their civil and military administration.

The administration which then ensued was announced as being but a temporary trusteeship, and throughout Europe was generally so regarded. But Prussia had other views. In the chambers Bismarck declared that the crown had no intention of resigning the booty, that, come what might, never would it give up Kiel. Bismarck was seldom wrong. In this instance he was right. In the month of August following the treaty the Emperor Francis of Austria and King William of Prussia met at Gastein and concluded a convention by which it was agreed that Schleswig should belong to Prussia, Holstein to Austria, with Kiel as a free port under Prussian rule.

These proceedings, as might have been expected, created the greatest indignation in England, France, and among the minor states. Earl Russell declared that all rights, old and new, had been trodden under by the Gastein Convention, and that violence and force had been the only bases on which this convention had been established, while utter disregard of all public laws had been shown throughout all these transactions. On the part of France, her minister said that the Austrian and Prussian governments were guilty in the eyes of Europe of dividing between themselves territories they were bound to give up to the claimants who seemed to have the best title, and that modern Europe was not accustomed to deeds fit only for the dark ages; such principles, he added, can only overthrow the past without building up anything new. The Frankfort Diet declared the two powers to have violated all principles of right, especially that of the duchies to direct their own affairs as they pleased, provided they did not interfere with the general interests of the German nation. Nevertheless, a Prussian governor was appointed over Schleswig, and an Austrian over Holstein, both assuming these duchies to be parts of their respective empires.

Early in 1866, it was evident that no real friendship could long continue between Prussia and Austria, and that these two great robbers would surely fall out over the division of the plunder; making it the ostensible cause for dispute, which was in reality their rivalry for the leadership in Germany. In June, the Prussians crossed the Eyder, and took possession of Holstein, appointed a supreme president over the two duchies which passed under Prussian rule, and settled, after a summary fashion, the vexed question. There were also other causes which tended to war. The weak side of Austria, weaker far than Hungary, was her Italian province of Venetia, one, indeed, that few can say she had any real or natural right to hold, beyond having acquired it by the treaty of 1813. To recover this from German rule had been the incessant desire of Italy, and grievous was her disappointment when the emperor of the French thought fit to stop immediately after the battle of Magenta and Solferino, instead of pushing on, as it was hoped he would have done, to the conquest of Venetia.

In the spring of 1866, Italy was making active preparations for war, and Austria, on the other hand, increased largely the number of her troops, Prussia choosing, in defiance of all fair dealing, to assume that all these armaments were directed against herself; and, on this supposition, sent a circular to the minor states to tell them they must decide which side to take in the impending struggle. A secret treaty was made between Prussia and Italy: that Italy should be ready to take up arms the moment Prussia gave the signal, and that Prussia should go on with the war until Venetia was ceded to Italy. Angry discussions took place in the diet between Austria and Prussia, which ended in Prussia declaring the Germanic Confederation to be broken up, and both sides preparing for war.

Austria began early to arm, for she required longer time to mobilize her army. Prussia, on the contrary, was in readiness for action. Every Prussian who is twenty years old, without distinction of rank, has to serve in the army, three years with the colors, five more in the reserve, after which he is placed for eleven years in the Landwehr, and liable to be called out when occasion requires. In peace everything is kept ready for the mobilization of its army. In a wonderfully short time the organization was complete, and 260,000 men brought into the field in Bohemia. In arms, they had the advantage of the needle-gun. The Prussian forces were in three divisions, the "First Army" under the command of Prince Frederick Charles; the "Second Army" under that of the crown prince; and the "Army of the Elbe," under General Herwarth. The supreme command of the Austrian army of the north was given to Feldzeugmeister von Benedek, that of the south to the Archduke Albert.

On June 14, Prussia sent a telegraphic summons to Hanover, Hesse-Cassel, and Saxony, demanding them to reduce their armies to the peace establishment, and to concur with Prussia respecting the Germanic confederation; and that if they did not send their consent within twelve hours, war would be declared. The states did not reply, Prussia declared war, and on the 16th invaded their territories. The occupation and disarmament of Hanover and Hesse were necessary to Prussia for a free communication with her Rhenish provinces, and she effected her purpose by means of well-planned combinations, so that in the course of a few days these states were overrun by Prussian troops, and their sovereigns expelled.

The rapid progress of events, and the Prussian declaration of war, had taken Hanover by surprise. Her army was not yet mobilized; Austria had evacuated Holstein, or she could have looked to her for support. To attempt to defend the capital was hopeless; so King George, suffering from blindness, moved with his army to Gottingen, with a view of joining the Bavarians. Prussia entered by the north, and, assisted by her navy on the Elbe, was by the 22d in possession of the whole of Hanover. Closed round on all sides by the Prussians, unassisted by Prince Charles of Bavaria, Gotha having declared for Prussia, the king of Hanover, with his little army, crossed the frontier of his kingdom, and at Langensalza, fifteen miles north of Gotha, encountered the Prussians, and remained master of the battlefield. But victory was of little avail; surrounded by 40,000 Prussians, the king was forced to capitulate. The arms and military stores were handed over to the enemy, and the king and his soldiers allowed to depart. Thus, through the supineness of Prince Charles of Bavaria, a whole army was made captive, and Hanover erased from the roll of independent states.

More fortunate than his neighbor, the elector of Hesse-Cassel saved his army, though not his territory, from the invader. His troops retired toward the Maine, where they secured a communication with the federal army at Frankfort. The elector remained in Hesse, and was sent a state prisoner to the Prussian fortress of Stettin, on the Oder. The Prussians overran his territory, declaring they were not at war against "peoples, but against governments."

Two bodies of Prussian troops entered Saxony—the First Army and the Army of the Elbe—and the Saxon army retired into Bohemia to effect a junction with the Austrians. On the 20th, Leipzig was seized, and the whole of Saxony was in undisturbed possession of the Prussians; Prince Frederick Charles issuing a most stringent order that private property should be respected, and every regard shown to the comfort of the inhabitants. His order was strictly observed, and every measure taken to prevent the miseries attendant on the occupation of a country by a foreign army.

The invasion of Saxony brought immediately open war between Prussia and Austria, and on the 23d the Prussian army crossed the Bohemian frontier—only a week since it had entered Saxony. It is needless here to detail the battles which immediately followed; suffice it to say, the Prussians were victorious in all—at Podoll, where the needle-gun did such terrible work; Munchengratz, which gave them the whole line of the Iser; Trautenan, Gitschen, and others. On the 1st of July, the king of Prussia arrived from Berlin and took the supreme command of the army. The following day brought news from the crown prince that he was hastening from Silesia with the Second Army, whereby the whole of the Prussian forces would be concentrated. On the 3d of July was fought the decisive battle of Koniggratz, or Sadowa, as it is sometimes called, from the village of that name, a cluster of pine-wood cottages, enclosed by orchards, with a wood-crowned hill at the back, which was fiercely disputed by the contending parties.

On that day, General von Benedek had taken his position with the Austrian army in front of the frontier fortress of Koniggratz, on the right bank of the Elbe, about fifty-five miles east of Prague, to oppose the passage of the crown prince from Silesia. In his front lay the marshy stream of Bistritz, upon which Sadowa and a few other villages are situated. At half-past seven in the morning the battle began, and continued with great slaughter without any marked advantage on either side till the arrival of the crown prince decided, like the advance of Bluecher at Waterloo, the fortune of the day. The Austrians were completely routed, and fled across the Elbe to save the capital. They lost 40,000 men in this sanguinary conflict, the Prussians 10,000. The forces in the field were 200,000 Austrians and Saxons, and 260,000 Prussians.

Immediately after her crushing defeat, Austria surrendered Venetia to France, and the Emperor Napoleon at once accepted the gift and gave it over to Victor Emmanuel.

On July 26, preliminaries of peace were signed at Nikolsburg, and peace was finally concluded at Prague, August 23, between Prussia and Austria, and about the same time with the South German states. The Prussian House of Deputies voted the annexation of the conquered states, and in October peace was concluded with Saxony. By these arrangements, Hanover, Hesse-Cassel, and Frankfort became provinces of Prussia, as well as the long-disputed duchies of Denmark. All the German states north of the Maine concluded a treaty, offensive and defensive, for the maintenance of the security of their states. Prussia increased her territory by 32,000 square miles and her population 4,000,000; and in October, 1866, the whole of northern Germany was united into a Confederation.

This Confederation, known as the North German, possessed a common parliament elected by universal suffrage, in which each state was represented according to its population. The first or constituent parliament met early in 1867, and adopted, with a few modifications, the constitution proposed by Count Bismarck. The new elections then took place, and the first regular North German parliament met in September, 1867. According to this constitution, there was to be a common army and fleet, under the sole command of Prussia; a common diplomatic representation abroad, of necessity little else than Prussian; and to Prussia also was intrusted the management of the posts and telegraphs in the Confederation.

The Southern German states which up to this point had not joined the Bund, were Bavaria, Baden, Wurtemberg, Hesse-Darmstadt, and Lichtenstein, with a joint area of 43,990 square miles, and a total population (1866) of 8,524,460. But, though these states were not formally members of the Bund, they were so practically, for they were bound to Prussia by treaties of alliance offensive and defensive, so that in the event of a war the king of Prussia would have at his disposal an armed force of upward of 1,100,000 men.

During the next few years the North German Confederation was employed in consolidating and strengthening itself, and in trying to induce the southern states to join the league. The Zollverein was remodelled and extended, until by the year 1868 every part of Germany was a member of it, with the exception of the cities of Hamburg and Bremen, and a small part of Baden. This paved the way for the formal entrance of the southern states into the confederation; but they still hung back, though the ideal of a united Germany was gradually growing in force and favor.

Meanwhile the terms of the treaty of Prague, together with the complete removal of alien powers from Italy, had wrought a radical change in the political relations of the European States. Excluded from Germany, the dominions of Austria still extended to the verge of Venetia and the Lombard plains, but her future lay eastward and her centre of gravity had been removed to Buda-Pesth. In the South German courts, no doubt, there was a bias toward Vienna, and a dislike of Prussia; yet both the leaning and the repugnance were counterbalanced by a deeper dread of France rooted in the people by the vivid memories of repeated and cruel invasions. Russia, somewhat alarmed by the rapid success of King William, had been soothed by diplomatic reassurances, the tenor of which is not positively known, although a series of subsequent events more than justified the inference made at that time, that promises, bearing on the czar's Eastern designs, were tendered and accepted as a valuable consideration for the coveted boon of benevolent neutrality, if not something more substantial. Like Russia, France had lost nothing by the campaign of 1866; her territories were intact; her ruler had mediated between Austria and Prussia; and he had the honor of protecting the pope, who, as a spiritual and temporal prince, was still in possession of Rome and restricted territorial domains. But the Napoleonic court, and many who looked upon its head as a usurper, experienced, on the morrow of Sadowa, and in a greater degree after the preface to a peace had been signed at Nikolsburg, a sensation of diminished magnitude, a consciousness of lessened prestige, and a painful impression that their political, perhaps even their military place in Europe, as the heirs of Richelieu, Louis XIV., and Napoleon, had been suddenly occupied by a power which they had taught themselves to contemn as an inferior. Until the summer of 1866 the emperor Napoleon fancied that he was strong enough to play with Bismarck a game of diplomatic chess.

In that he erred profoundly. As early as the first week in August, 1866, M. Benedetti, the French ambassador to the court of Berlin, was instructed to claim the left bank of the Rhine as far as and including Mainz. Bismarck replied that "the true interest of France is not to obtain an insignificant increase of territory, but to aid Germany in constituting herself after a fashion which will be most favorable to all concerned." Delphos could not have been more oracular. But Napoleon III. could not or would not heed. A week later Benedetti was instructed to submit a regular scale of concessions—the frontiers of 1814 and the annexation of Belgium, or Luxemburg and Belgium, Benedetti received the most courteous attention and nothing more. This was irritating. The French had been accustomed for more than two hundred years to meddle directly in Germany and find there allies, either against Austria, Prussia, or England; and the habit of centuries had been more than confirmed by the colossal raids, victories, and annexations of Napoleon I. A Germany which should escape from French control and reverse, by its own energetic action, the policy of Henry IV., Richelieu, Louis XIV., his degenerate grandson, Louis XV., and of the great Napoleon himself, was an affront to French pride, and could not be patiently endured. The opposing forces which had grown up were so strong that the wit of man was unable to keep them asunder; and all the control over the issue left to kings and statesmen was restricted to the fabrication of means wherewith to deliver or sustain the shock, and the choice of the hour, if such choice were allowed.

Then presently the opportunity occurred. On July 4, 1870, the throne of Spain was offered to Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern. The fact created the greatest excitement in France. Threatening speeches were made. On July 18 Prince Leopold declined the offer. On the morrow Benedetti was instructed to demand a guarantee that any future offer of the kind would be refused. The king of Prussia would not listen to the proposition. The French minister, through whom the demand had been transmitted, then asked for his passports. War was imminent.

At the prospect Paris grew mad with enthusiasm. Crowds assembled in the streets, shouting "Down with Prussia!" "Long live France!" "To the Rhine!" "To Berlin!" The papers abounded with inflammatory appeals, and, after the impulsive French fashion, glorified beforehand the easy triumphs that were to be won over the Prussians. Men told one another that they would be across the Rhine in a week, and at Berlin in a fortnight. The excitement in Prussia was not less than that in France. The people, with scarcely an exception, declared their readiness for war, and seemed to find a pleasure in the opportunity now presented for settling old quarrels. Like the people of Paris, the Prussians shouted "To the Rhine!" The French cry of "To Berlin!" had its counterpart in the German ejaculation of "To Paris!"

Perhaps a sentence spoken by M. Guyot Montpayroux best illustrates the predominant feeling. "Prussia," he said, "has forgotten the France of Jena, and the fact must be recalled to her memory." Thus was war declared on the night of July 15. Thiers, who desired a war with Prussia "at the proper time," has left on record his judgment that the hour then selected was "detestably ill-chosen." Yet even he and Gambetta were both anxious that "satisfaction" should be obtained for Sadowa; while the thought which animated the court is admirably expressed in the phrase imputed to the empress who, pointing to the prince imperial, said, "This child will never reign unless we repair the misfortunes of Sadowa." Such was the ceaseless refrain. The word haunted French imaginations incessantly, and it was the pivot on which the imperial policy revolved; it exercised a spell scarcely less powerful and disastrous upon monarchists like Thiers and republicans like Gambetta. Long foreseen, the dread shock, like all grave calamities, came nevertheless as a surprise, even upon reflective minds. Statesmen and soldiers who looked on, while they shared in the natural feelings aroused by so tremendous a drama, were also the privileged witnesses of two instructive experiments on a grand scale—the processes whereby mighty armies are brought into the field, and the methods by means of which they are conducted to defeat or victory.

The French field army, called at the outset the "Army of the Rhine," consisted nominally of 336,000 men with 924 guns. It was considered that of these, 300,000 would be available for the initial operations. The infantry of the army was provided with a breech-loading weapon, called after its inventor the Chassepot. The Chassepot was a weapon in all respects superior to the famous needle-gun, which was still the weapon of the Prussian army. Attached likewise to the divisional artillery was a machine gun called the Mitrailleuse, from which great things were expected. But this gun had been manufactured with a secrecy which, while it prevented foreign inspection, had withheld also the knowledge of its mechanism from the soldiers who were to work it. In the field, therefore, it proved a failure.

Since the Crimean and Austrian wars, while the armies of the other European states had advanced in efficiency, the French army had deteriorated. The reason was that favoritism rather than merit had been made the road to court favor. The officers who had pointed to the training of the Prussian soldiers, as indicating the necessity for the adoption of similar modes for the French army, had been laughed at and left in the cold. The consequence was, that for ten years prior to the war of 1870, the French army had received instruction only of the most superficial character. It had been considered sufficient if the soldiers were brought to the point of making a good show on the parade ground. Little more had been required of them. Field training and musketry training had been alike neglected. The officers had ceased to study, and the government had taken no pains to instruct them. What was more vicious still, the alienation between officers and men, which had been noticed even in the war of 1859, had widened. The officers generally had ceased to take the smallest interest in the comfort of the men in camp or in quarters. These matters were left to the non-commissioned officers. Needless to add, they were not always properly attended to. It may be added that the system of drill was so devised as to give no play to the reasoning powers of the officer. He was a machine and nothing more.

Of the artillery of the French army it has to be said, that it was far inferior to that of the Germans, and known to be so by the French war department. In the matter of reserves, France had comparatively nothing.

Far different were the composition and the state of preparation of the Prussian army; far different, also, those of her German allies; far higher the qualities of their general officers; far superior the discipline and morale of their troops; far more ready, in every single particular, to begin a war; far more thoroughly provided to carry that war to a successful issue.

The German infantry had been thoroughly organized on a system which gave to every officer the necessity of exercising independent action, and to the men the faculty of understanding the object of the manoeuvre directed. Its cavalry had been specially instructed in duties of reconnoissance, of insuring repose for the infantry, of collecting intelligence, of concealing the march of armies, of acting as a completer of victory, or as a shield in case of defeat. It had profited greatly by the lessons it had learned in the war of 1866.

The German artillery had likewise been greatly improved in efficiency of manoeuvre since 1866. It was in all respects superior to that of the French.

Of the Prussian and South German leaders, I will only say that we shall meet again the men from whom we parted on the conclusion of the armistice of Nikolsburg. What was their task and how they executed it will be described in the pages that follow. In mere numbers, the king of Prussia had a great advantage over his enemy. For, while without any assistance from South Germany, and after allowing for three army corps which might be necessary to watch Austria and Denmark, he could begin the campaign with a force of 350,000 men, he was certain of the assistance of Southern Germany, and confident that, unless the French should obtain considerable successes at the outset, neither Austria nor Denmark would stir a hand to aid them.

To counterbalance this superiority of numbers the French emperor had cherished a vague hope that, in a war against Prussia, he might possibly count upon the ancient friendship for France of Bavaria and Saxony, and to a still greater extent upon Austria and Italy. With regard to Bavaria and Saxony he was speedily undeceived. Moreover, contrary to expectation, other German states decided to support Prussia and placed their armies, which were eventually commanded by the crown prince, at the disposal of King William. With regard to Austria and Italy, Colonel Malleson in a work on this subject,[1] to which we are much indebted, states that their co-operation was made dependent on the initial successes of the French troops. Colonel Malleson adds:

"It was not only understood, but was actually drafted in a treaty—the signing of which, however, was prevented by the rapid course of the war—that if, on the 15th of September, France should be holding her own in Southern Germany, then Austria and Italy would jointly declare war against Prussia."

These conditions made it clear that ultimate success in the struggle about to commence would accrue to the power which should obtain the first advantages.

That Germany—for it was Germany and not Prussia only which entered upon this great struggle—would obtain these initial advantages seemed almost certain. Count Moltke had for some time previous been engaged in planning for a war with France. So far back as 1868 all his arrangements for the formation of the armies to be employed, the points to be occupied, the nature of the transport, had been clearly laid down. These instructions had been carefully studied by the several corps commanders and their staff. Not one matter, however apparently trivial, had been neglected. When, then, on the 16th of July, the king of Prussia gave the order for mobilization, it required only to insert the day and the hour on which each body of troops should march. With respect to the armies of the states of Southern Germany, Moltke, anticipating that the French emperor would throw his main army as rapidly as possible into Southern Germany, had recommended that the contingents from that part of the country should march northward to join those of Prussia on the middle Rhine, to assume there a position which should menace the flank and rear of the invading army. This position would be the more practical, as in the event of the French not invading Southern Germany, the combined force, stretching from Saarbrucken to Landau, would be ready to invade France, and sever the communications with Paris of the French armies on the frontier. Count Moltke had calculated that the German troops intended to cross the French frontier would be in a position to make their forward movement by the 4th of August. Pending the development of the French strategy with respect to Southern Germany, therefore, he thought it prudent to delay the march of the southern contingents, in order that no part of the army might be suddenly overwhelmed by a superior force. On the actual frontier he placed, then, only a few light troops, for the purposes of reconnoitring, and for checking the first advance of the enemy until supports should arrive.

The French emperor had, indeed, been keenly alive to the advantages which would accrue to himself from a prompt invasion of Southern Germany. He designed to concentrate one hundred and fifty thousand men at Metz; one hundred thousand at Strasburg; to cross into Baden with these armies; while a third, assembling at Chalons, should protect the frontier against the German forces. The plan itself was an excellent one had he only been able to execute it, for, as we have seen, early success in Southern Germany would have meant the armed assistance of Austria and Italy. But the French army was in a condition more unready, one might truly say, of greater demoralization, thus early, than its severest critics had imagined. Considerable forces were indeed massed about Metz and Strasburg. But the commissariat and transport departments were in a state of the most hopeless confusion. The army could not move. To remedy these evils time was wanted, and time was the commodity the generals could not command. Every day which evoked some little order out of chaos brought the Germans nearer to positions, the occupation of which would render impossible the contemplated invasion. The emperor had quitted Paris for Metz, accompanied by the prince imperial, on the 28th of July, and had arrived there and taken the supreme command the same day. The day following he met his generals at St. Avoid, and unfolded to them his plans. Since war had been declared he had lost many illusions. It had become clear to him that he was warring against the concentrated might of Germany; that he could not make the inroad into Southern Germany originally contemplated without exposing Paris to an attack from forces already occupying the country between Treves and Mannheim: that he was bound to hold that line. Anxious, however, to assume the offensive, he dictated the following plan to his marshals. Bazaine, with the Second, Third, and Fifth Army Corps, should cross the Saar at Saarbruecken, covered on his left by the Fourth Corps, which should make a show of advancing against Saarlouis, while MacMahon, pushing forward from his position near Strasburg, should cover his right. The emperor had some reason to believe that the Saar was weakly held.

But his own generals showed him that his plan was impossible. They represented to him that instead of the three hundred thousand men whom, in the delirium of the Paris enthusiasm, he believed he would find available for his purposes, he had at the utmost one hundred and eighty-six thousand; that in every requirement for moving the army was deficient; that there was scarcely a department which was not disorganized. He was compelled, therefore, to renounce his plan for decisive offensive action. He came to that resolve most unwillingly, for Paris was behind him, ready to rise unless he should make some show of advancing. It was to reassure the excited spirits of the capital, rather than to effect any military result, that on the 2d of August, he moved with sixty thousand men in the direction of Saarbruecken. The garrison of that place consisted of something less than four thousand men with six guns. The emperor attacked it with the corps of Frossard, eighteen battalions and four batteries. These compelled the slender German garrison to evacuate the place, but Frossard, though the bridges across the Saar were not defended, made no attempt to cross that river. The soldierly manner in which the Germans had covered their retreat had left on his mind the impression that they were more numerous than they were, and that there was a larger force behind them.

Still, for the only time in the war, the emperor was able to send a reassuring telegram to Paris. The young prince, upon whom the hopes of the nation would, he hoped, rest, had undergone the "baptism of fire." French troops had made the first step in advance.

Soon, however, it became clear to him that the enemy had concentrated along the line of the frontier, and were about to make their spring. Moltke, in fact, from his headquarters at Mayence, was, by means of solitary horsemen employed in profusion, keeping himself thoroughly well acquainted not only with the movements of the French, but with their vacillation, their irresolution, their want of plan. The sudden appearance from unexpected quarters of these horsemen conveyed a marked feeling of insecurity to the minds of the French soldiers, and these feelings were soon shared by their chiefs. It was very clear to them that an attack might at any moment come, though from what quarter and in what force they were absolutely ignorant. This ignorance increased their vacillations, their uncertainties. Orders and counter-orders followed each other with startling rapidity. The soldiers, harassed, began to lose confidence; the leaders became more and more incapable of adopting a plan.

Suddenly, in the midst of their vacillations, of their marchings and counter-marchings, the true report reached them, on the evening of the 3d of August, that a French division, the outpost of MacMahon's army, had been surprised and defeated at Weissenburg by a far superior force. Napoleon at once ordered the Fifth Corps to concentrate at Bitsche, and despatched a division of the Third to Saarguemuend. These orders were followed by others. Those of the 5th of August divided the army of the Rhine into two portions, the troops in Alsace being placed under MacMahon, those in Lorraine under Bazaine, the emperor retaining the Guard. Those of the 7th directed the Second Corps to proceed to Bitsche, the Third to Saarguemuend, the Fourth to Haut-Homburg, the Guard to St. Avoid. These instructions plainly signified the making of a flank movement in front of a superior enemy. With such an army as the emperor had, inferior in numbers, many of the regiments as yet incomplete, all his resources behind him, and these becoming daily more unavailable, his one chance was to concentrate in a position commanding the roads behind it, and yet adapted for attack if attack should be necessary. As it was, without certain information as to the movements of the Germans, anxious to move, yet dreading to do so, until his regiments should be completed, the French emperor was confused and helpless. He forgot even to transmit to the generals on one flank the general directions he had issued to those on the other. Bazaine, for instance, was left on the 5th in ignorance of the emperor's intentions with respect to MacMahon; on the 6th none of the subordinate generals knew that the flank march was contemplated. Frossard, who had fallen back to Spicheren, considered his position so insecure that he suggested to Leboeuf that he should be allowed to retire from the Saarbruecken ridge. He was ordered in reply to fall back on Forbach, but no instructions were given him as to the course he should pursue in the event of his being attacked, nor were the contemplated movements of the emperor communicated to him. In every order that was issued there was apparent the confused mind of the issuer.

Turn we now to MacMahon and the movements of himself and his generals. When the war broke out MacMahon was in the vicinity of Strasburg with forty-five thousand men; General Douay with twelve thousand men at Weissenburg. The same confusion prevailed here as at Metz. The orders given to MacMahon were of the vaguest description: Douay had no instructions at all. Yet, in front of him, the German hosts had been gathering. The commander of the left wing of the German army, the crown prince of Prussia, had, in obedience to the instructions he had received, crossed the frontier river, the Lauter, on the 4th of August, with an army composed of the Second Bavarian and Fifth Prussian army, numbering about forty thousand men, and marched on Weissenburg. As his advanced guard approached the town, it was met by a heavy fire from the French garrison. The crown prince resolved at once to storm the place. Douay had placed his troops in a strong position, a portion of his men occupying the town defended by a simple wall; the bulk, formed on the Gaisberg, a hill two miles to the south of it. Against this position the crown prince directed his chief attack. The contest which ensued was most severe, the assailants and the defenders vying with one another in determination and courage. But the odds in favor of the former were too great to permit Douay to hope for ultimate success. After a resistance of five hours' duration the Germans carried the Gaisberg. Douay himself was killed; but his surviving troops, though beaten, were not discouraged. They successfully foiled an attempt made by the Germans to cut off their retreat, and fell back on the corps of MacMahon, which lay about ten miles to the south of Weissenburg.

The same day on which the crown prince had attacked and carried Weissenburg, another German army corps, that of Baden-Wuertemberg, a part of the Third Army, under the command of the crown prince, had advanced on and occupied Lauterburg. That evening the entire Third Army, consisting of one hundred and thirty thousand men, bivouacked on French ground. Meanwhile MacMahon, on hearing of Douay's defeat, had marched to Reichshofen, received there the shattered remnants of Douay's division, and, with the emperor's orders under no circumstances to decline a battle, took up a position on the hills of which Worth, Froeschweiler and Elsasshausen form the central points. He had with him forty-seven thousand men, but the Fifth Corps, commanded by De Failly, was at Bitsche, seventeen miles from Reichshofen, and MacMahon had despatched the most pressing instructions to that officer to join him. These orders, however, De Failly did not obey.

The ground on which MacMahon had retired offered many capabilities for defence. The central point was the village of Worth on the rivulet Sauerbach, which covered the entire front of the position. To the right rear of Worth, on the road from Gundershofen, was the village of Elsasshausen, covered on its right by the Niederwald, having the village of Eberbach on its further side, and the extreme right of the position, the village of Morsbronn, to its southeast. Behind Woerth, again, distant a little more than two miles on the road to Reichshofen, was the key to the position, the village of Froeschweiler. From this point the French left was thrown back to a mound, covered by a wood, in front of Reichshofen.

On the 5th of August the crown prince had set his army in motion, and had rested for the night at Sulz. There information reached him regarding the position taken by MacMahon. He immediately issued orders for the concentration of his army, and for its march the following morning toward the French position, the village of Preuschdorf, on the direct road to Woerth, to be the central point of the movement. But the previous evening General von Walther, with the Fifth Prussian Corps, had reached Goersdorf, a point whence it was easy for him to cross the Sauerbach, and take Worth in flank. Marching at four o'clock in the morning Walther tried this manoeuvre, and at seven o'clock succeeded in driving the French from Woerth. MacMahon then changed his front, recovered Woerth, and repulsed likewise an attack which had in the meanwhile been directed against Froeschweiler by the Eleventh Prussian and Fifth Bavarian Corps.

For a moment it seemed as though he might hold his position. But between eleven and twelve the enemy renewed his attack. While one corps again attacked and carried Woerth, the Eleventh Prussian Corps, aided by sixty guns placed upon the heights of Gunstett, assailed his right. They met here a most stubborn resistance, the French cuirassiers charging the advancing infantry with the greatest resolution. So thoroughly did they devote themselves that they left three-fourths of their number dead or dying on the field. But all was in vain. The Prussians steadily advanced, forced their way through the Niederwald, and threatened Elsasshausen. While the French were thus progressing badly on their right, they were faring still worse in the centre.

The Germans, having seized Woerth, stormed the hilly slopes between that place and Froschweiler, and made a furious assault upon the latter, now more than ever the key of the French position. For while Froschweiler was their objective centre, their right was thrown back toward Elsasshausen and the Niederwald, their left to Reichshofen. While the Eleventh Prussians were penetrating the Niederwald, preparatory to attacking Elsasshausen on the further side of it, the Fifth Prussian Corps with the Second Bavarians were moving against Froschweiler. It was clear then to MacMahon that further resistance was impossible. Still holding Froschweiler, he evacuated Elsasshausen, and drew back his right to Reichshofen. The safety of his army depended now upon the tenacity with which Froschweiler might be held. It must be admitted, in justice to the French, that they held it with a stubborn valor not surpassed during the war. Attacked by overwhelming numbers, they defended the place, house by house. At length, however, they were overpowered. Then, for the first time, the bonds of discipline loosened, and the French, struck by panic, fled, in wild disorder, in the direction of Saverne. They reached that place by a march across the hills the following evening. On their way they fell in with one of the divisions of the corps of de Failly, and this served to cover the retreat.

Though their defeat, considering the enormous superiority of their assailants, might be glorious, it was doubly disastrous, inasmuch that it followed those perturbations of spirit alluded to in a previous page, which had done so much to discourage the French soldier. A victory at Worth might have done much to redeem past mistakes. A defeat emphasized them enormously. It was calculated that, inclusive of the nine thousand prisoners taken by the Germans, the French lost twenty-four thousand men. The loss of the victors amounted to ten thousand. They captured thirty-three guns, two eagles, and six mitrailleuses.

The emperor was deeply pained by the result of the battle. To keep up, if possible, the spirits of his partisans, he wired on the evening of the 7th to Paris, with the news of the defeat, the words, "tout se peut retablir." He was mistaken. While the crown prince was crushing MacMahon at Woerth, the imperial troops were being beaten at Spicheren as well.

Thereafter the German advance was hardly checked for a moment, though the losses on both sides were heavy. On the 18th of August was fought the battle of Gravelotte, in which King William commanded in person, and though his troops suffered immense loss, they were again victorious, and forced Bazaine to shut himself up in Metz, which he subsequently surrendered. In this battle, one of the most decisive of the war, it is worth noting that the Germans outnumbered the French by more than two to one. The exact figures are uncertain, but we shall probably be correct in accepting 230,000 as the strength of the Germans, and in estimating the French outside of Metz at 110,000.

We now come to Sedan. With the army of Bazaine beleaguered, there remained, in the opinion of the German chiefs—an opinion not justified by events—only the army of MacMahon. To remove that army from the path which led to Paris was the task intrusted to the crown prince. MacMahon, meanwhile, after his defeat at Woerth, had fallen back with the disordered remnants of his army on Chalons, there to reorganize and strengthen it. Much progress had been made in both respects, when, after the result of the battle of Gravelotte had been known in Paris, he received instructions from the Count of Palikao to march with the four army corps at his disposal northward toward the Meuse, and to give a hand to the beleaguered Bazaine.

MacMahon prepared to obey. But circumstances ordered otherwise. On the night of August 31st, accompanied by the emperor—who, having transferred his authority to the Empress Eugenie and his command to Bazaine, followed the army as mere spectator—MacMahon reached Sedan, and there ranged his troops so as to meet an attack which he foresaw inevitable, and fatal too. Placing his strongest force to the east, his right wing was at Bazeilles and the left at Illy. The ground in front of his main defence was naturally strong, the entire front being covered by the Givonne rivulet, and the slopes to that rivulet, on the French side of it.

The possibility that the French marshal would accept battle at Sedan had been considered at the German headquarters on the night of the 31st, and arrangements had been made to meet his wishes. The army of the crown prince of Saxony (the Fourth Army) occupied the right of the German forces, the Bavarian Corps formed the centre, and the Prussians the left wing. The advanced troops of the army were ranged in the following order. On the right stood the Twelfth Corps, then the Fourth Prussian Corps, the Prussian Guards, and finally the Fourth Cavalry Division, their backs to Remilly. From this point they were linked to the First and Second Bavarian Corps, opposite Bazeilles; they, in turn, to the Eleventh and Fifth Corps; and they, at Dom-le-Mesnil, to the Wuertembergers. The Sixth Prussian Corps was placed in reserve between Attigny and Le Chene.

A word now as to the nature of the ground on which the impending battle was to be fought. Sedan lies in the most beautiful part of the valley of the Meuse, amid terraced heights, covered with trees, and, within close distance, the villages of Donchery, Iges, Villette, Glaire, Daigny, Bazeilles, and others. Along the Meuse, on the left bank, ran the main road from Donchery through Frenois, crossing the river at the suburb Torcy, and there traversing Sedan. The character of the locality may best be described as a ground covered with fruit gardens and vineyards, narrow streets shut in by stone walls, the roads overhung by forests, the egress from which was in many places steep and abrupt. Such was the ground. One word now as to the troops.

The German army before Sedan counted, all told, 240,000 men; the French 180,000. But the disparity in numbers was the least of the differences between the two armies. The one was flushed with victory, the other dispirited by defeat. The one had absolute confidence in their generals and their officers, the other had the most supreme contempt for theirs. The one had marched from Metz on a settled plan, to be modified according to circumstances, the drift of which was apparent to the meanest soldier; the other had been marched hither and thither, now toward Montmedy, now toward Paris, then again back toward Montmedy, losing much time; the men eager for a pitched battle, then suddenly surprised through the carelessness of their commanders, and compelled at last to take refuge in a town from which there was no issue. There was hardly an officer of rank who knew aught about the country in which he found himself. The men were longing to fight to the death, but they, one and all, distrusted their leaders. It did not tend, moreover, to the encouragement of the army to see the now phantom emperor, without authority to command even a corporal's guard, dragged about the country, more as a pageant than a sovereign. He, poor man, was much to be pitied. He keenly felt his position, and longed for the day when he might, in a great battle, meet the glorious death which France might accept as an atonement for his misfortunes.

The battle began at daybreak on the morning of the 1st of September. Under cover of a brisk artillery fire, the Bavarians advanced, and opened, at six o'clock, a very heavy musketry fire on Bazeilles. The masonry buildings of this village were all armed and occupied, and they were defended very valiantly. The defenders drove back the enemy as they advanced and kept them at bay for two hours. Then the Saxons came up to the aid of the Bavarians, and forced the first position. Still the defence continued, and the clocks were striking ten when the Bavarians succeeded in entering the place. Even then a house-to-house defence prolonged the battle, and it was not until every house but one[2] had been either stormed or burned that the Germans could call the village, or the ruins which remained of it, their own. Meanwhile, on the other points of their defensive position; at Floing, St. Menges, Fleigneux, Illy, and, on the extreme left, at Iges, where a sharp bend of the Meuse forms a peninsula of the ground round which it slowly rolls; the French had been making a gallant struggle. In their ranks, even in advance of them, attended finally by a single aide-de-camp, all the others having been killed, was the emperor, cool, calm, and full of sorrow, earnestly longing for the shell or the bullet which should give a soldier's finish to his career. MacMahon, too, was there, doing all that a general could do to encourage his men. The enemy were, however, gradually but surely making way. To hedge the French within the narrowest compass, the Fifth and Eleventh Corps of the Third Army had crossed the Meuse to the left of Sedan, and were marching now to roll up the French left. But before their attack had been felt, an event had occurred full of significance for the French army.

Early in the day, while yet the Bavarians were fighting to get possession of Bazeilles, Marshal MacMahon was so severely wounded that he had to be carried from the field into Sedan. He made over the command of the army to General Ducrot. That general had even before recognized the impossibility of maintaining the position before Sedan against the superior numbers of the German army, and had seen that the one chance of saving his army was to fall back on Mezieres. He at once, then, on assuming command, issued orders to that effect. But it was already too late. The march by the defile of St. Albert had been indeed possible at any time during the night or in the very early morning. But it was now no longer so. The German troops swarmed in the plains of Donchery, and the route by Carignan could only be gained by passing over the bodies of a more numerous and still living foe. Still Ducrot had given the order, and the staff officers did their utmost to cause it to be obeyed. The crowded streets of Sedan were being vacated, when suddenly the orders were countermanded. General Wimpffen had arrived from Paris the previous day to replace the incapable De Failly in command of the Fifth Corps, carrying in his pocket an order from the Minister of War to assume the command-in-chief in the event of any accident to MacMahon. The emperor had no voice in the matter, for, while the regency of the empress existed, he no longer represented the government. The two generals met, and, after a somewhat lively discussion, Ducrot was forced to acknowledge the authority of the minister. Wimpffen then assumed command. His first act was to countermand the order to retreat on Mezieres, and to direct the troops to reassume the positions they had occupied when MacMahon had been wounded. This order was carried out as far as was possible.

Meanwhile the Germans were pressing more and more those positions. About midday the Guards, having made their way step by step, each one bravely contested, gave their hand to the left wing of the Third Army. Then Illy and Floing, which had been defended with extraordinary tenacity, as the keys of the advanced French position, were stormed. The conquest of those heights completed the investment of Sedan. There was now no possible egress for the French. Their soldiers retreated into the town and the suburbs, while five hundred German guns hurled their missiles, their round shot and their shells, against the walls and the crowded masses behind them.

Vainly then did Wimpffen direct an assembly in mass of his men to break through the serried columns of the enemy. In the disordered state of the French army the thing was impossible. The emperor, who had courted death in vain, recognized the truth, and, desirous to spare the sacrifice of life produced by the continued cannonade, ordered, on his own responsibility, the hoisting of a white flag on the highest point of the defences, as a signal of surrender. But the firing still continued, and Wimpffen, still bent on breaking through, would not hear of surrender. Then Napoleon despatched his chief aide-de-camp, General Keille, with a letter to the king of Prussia.

King William early that day had taken his stand on an eminence which commanded an extensive view and which rises a little south of Frenois. There, his staff about him, he watched the progress of the fight. Toward this eminence Reille rode. Walking his horse up the steep, he dismounted, and raising his cap presented the letter. King William, breaking the imperial seal, read these phrases, which, if somewhat dramatic, are striking in their brevity:[3]

"MONSIEUR MON FRERE—N'ayant pu mourir au milieu de mes troupes, il ne me reste qu' a remettre mon epee entre les mains de Votre Majeste.

"Je suis de Votre Majeste, "le bon Frere,

"NAPOLEON.

"Sedan, le 1er Septembre, 1870."

"Only one half hour earlier," writes Mr. George Hooper in his "Campaign of Sedan," "had the information been brought that the emperor was in Sedan." Mr. Hooper adds:

"The king conferred with his son, who had been hastily summoned, and with others of his trusty servants, all deeply moved by complex emotions at the grandeur of their victory. What should be done? The emperor spoke for himself only, and his surrender would not settle the great issue. It was necessary to obtain something definite, and the result of a short conference was that Count Hatzfeldt, instructed by the chancellor, retired to draft a reply. 'After some minutes he brought it,' writes Dr. Busch, 'and the king wrote it out, sitting on one chair, while the seat of a second was held up by Major von Alten, who knelt on one knee and supported the chair on the other.' The king's letter, brief and business-like, began and ended with the customary royal forms, and ran as follows: