Books: NAPOLEON AND BLUCHER

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"Ah, the volunteers whom I have just enlisted, and whose pardon I
have to ask for having forgotten them," cried Madame Von Lutzow,
smiling.

"We have rather to ask your pardon for staying here," said Leonora.
"But we are indebted to you and to the poet Theodore Korner for the
most soul-stirring sentiments, and it seems to me as though we have
received only now the true consecration for the future that lies
before ns. Now, that I know what great sacrifices one may joyously
make, I feel how incumbent it was upon me to make them too, and I
have no remorse at leaving my parents and my brothers--It is
certainly true, as the poet said: 'A great era requires great
hearts!' And therefore I will try, to the best of my power, to have
a great heart, that I may be worthy of our great era."

"A great and noble heart is beaming from your eyes, my friend," said
Theodore Korner, offering his hand to Leonora. "I greet you both as
dear comrades of mine, and beg you to treat me as one."

"Yes, we will do so," exclaimed Caroline, shaking hands with the
poet. "And we will prove it directly by going to that tailor and
offering to assist him in making the uniform of our esteemed
lieutenant."

"Softly, my friend!" laughed Theodore Korner, "I have not yet risen
so high; I am no lieutenant."

"But you will be soon," said Caroline, ardently; "for one may easily
read in your face that you are born to command, and not to obey. We
volunteers are to elect our own officers. Well, then, I shall vote
for Theodore Korner." [Footnote: Theodore Korner was elected
lieutenant by his comrades on the 24th of April.]

"So shall I!" ejaculated Leonora.

"But while indulging in such dreams as to the future, we forgot the
grim tailor," said Theodore Korner, smiling. "Madame von Lutzow, I
beseech you, pity my distress, and send for him, that your eloquence
may soften his heart."

"But suppose he does not comply?" asked Madame von Lutzow. "It would
be wrong, too, to occupy his time while so busy. You say the man
lives near?"

"Scarcely fifty steps from here."

"Well, then, conduct me to him!" said Madame von Lutzow, "we will
pay a visit to him as Torquato Tasso once went to the Duke di
Ferrara. You, my two young friends, will please accompany us, that
we may present to him two willing assistants. Come!"

"Yes, madame, and may your eloquence prevail!" exclaimed Korner,
opening the door, and posting himself beside it in order to allow
the lady to pass out. Graceful and smiling, she hastened through the
gloomy room and approached the door, followed by the two volunteers
with their rosy faces and bright eyes. When about to cross the
threshold, she stood and gazed archly at Korner, "Stop," she said,
"I have to impose a condition. If we are to assist a poet, he must
in return pay us a poet's tribute. I shall not cross this threshold
before you recite one of your new war-songs."

"Yes, a song!" cried the two volunteers.

"Well, you are silent?" asked Madame von Lutzow, smiling. "Strike
the chords of your lyre, and let us hear a battle-hymn!"

"No, not a battle-hymn," said Theodore Korner; "that requires the
accompaniment of clashing arms and booming cannon. But to the fair
patroness of the Legion of Vengeance I will communicate, although it
is not completed, my hymn to the guardian angel of German liberty--
Queen Louisa!" Raising his dark-blue eyes to heaven, he recited the
following lines, addressed "to Queen Louisa:"

"Du Heilige I hor Deiner Kinder Flehen,
Es dringe machtig anf zo deinern Licht.
Kannst wieder freundlich auf uns niedersehen
Verklarter Engel! Ifinger weine nicht!
Benn Preussens Adler soll zum Kampfe wehen.
Es drangt Dein Volk sich jubelnd zu der Pflicht,
Und Jeder wahlt, und keinen siehst du leben,
Den freien Ted fur ein bezwung nes Leben."

"Wir lagen noch in feige Nacht gehettet;
Da rief nach Dir Deiu besseres Geschick,
An die unwurd'ge Zeit warst Du gekettet,
Zur Rache mahnte Dein gebroch'ner Blick.
So hast Du uns den deutschen Muth gerettet.
Jetzt sieh auf uns, sieh auf Dein Volk zuruck,
Wie alle Herzen treu und muthig brennen!
Nun woll uns auch die Deinen wieder nennen!"

"Und wie einst, alle Krafte zu beleben,
Ein Heil'genbild, fur den gerechten Krieg
Dem Heeresbanner schutzend zugegeben,
Als Oriflamme in die Lufte stieg:
So soil Dein Bild auf unsern Fabnen schweben,
Und soil uns leuchten durch die Nacht zum Sieg!
Louise sei der Schutzgeist deutscher Sache!
Louise sei das Losungswort zur Rache!"

[Footnote:
O sainted one I now let thy children's prayer,
As incense, rise to realms of heavenly light;
Beholding us thou canst' with gladness hear,
And tears no more may dim thy vision bright:
For Prussia's standard in the battle near
Will nerve thy people to their ancient might.
Thy sons in crowded ranks await the strife,
Preferring a free death to slavery's life.

Enthralled in long and timid gloom we lay;
When Heaven recalled thee, and thy fetters broke
Which bound thee to thy times' unworthy sway,
Thy dying eyes of future vengeance spoke.
Thus didst thou save on that sad final day
The German honor, and our courage woke.
Behold us now, as we all fear resign,
With glowing hearts, and once more call us thine!

As erst to serried legions in the field,
A sacred symbol, as a golden flame,
Lit up the battle-standard, and revealed
For whom the victory's just though bloody claim:
So let us, 'neath thy bannered image, wield
A valiant sword--our "oriflamme" thy name--
The pledge of honor and the gathering cry,
To live for Prussia's glory, or to die!]

"Louisa shall be the guardian angel of the German cause and the
battle-cry of vengeance!" echoed the two volunteers.

Madame von Lutzow said nothing. She stood, with her white hands
clasped, as if in prayer, and her sweet face turned heavenward.
Tears were glittering in her eyes; and, giving her hand to the poet,
she said in a low voice: "You have paid us a tribute worthy of you.
Thanks! And now come!" She quickly crossed the threshold toward the
court-yard. Korner was by her side; Leonora and Caroline, the two
volunteers, followed her.

"The four windows on the ground-floor yonder are those of the
tailor's shop," said Korner.

Madame von Lutzow nodded, and walked across the wide court-yard
toward the house.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE HEROIC TAILOR.

The tailor and his hands were very busy. All sorts of colored cloths
and pieces of uniforms were lying about. On the bench, in the middle
of the room, sat four workmen, hard at work. Not a word interrupted
the silence now desecrated by the noise of the opening door. He who
sat on a somewhat raised seat, and was just braiding a magnificent
scarlet hussar-jacket, hastily looked up. His hand, armed with his
needle, had just risen and remained suspended; his eyes, which he
had at first raised carelessly from his work, were fixed on the
door, which framed so unusual and attractive a picture--a young lady
of surpassing beauty, surrounded by three youthful soldiers, who
looked very fine and imposing, too, and whose looks were turned to
him with a kind and inquiring expression.

"You are M. Martin, the merchant tailor, are you not?" asked the
lady, greeting the tailor with a gentle nod.

"That is my name," said M. Martin, involuntarily rising from his
seat.

"Well, then, my dear sir," said the lady, advancing a few steps into
the shop, "I should like to say a word to you."

"Yes, I imagine what it is," exclaimed the tailor, who fixed his
eyes now upon Theodore Korner, and recognized his tormentor. "The
gentleman has been here twice already about a uniform for Sunday.
But I could not make it, if an angel descended from heaven to
entreat me."

"Well, I thank you for your compliment," said Madame von Lutzow,
smiling. "But tell me now, sir, why can you not accommodate him?"

"Because I have more work now than I am able to finish. I was rash
enough to accept so many orders, that I do not know how I shall be
able to fill them; and in the excitement and confusion prevalent in
the city it is impossible to get assistance at present."

"Well, if that is the only reason, we bring you fresh help. These
two young volunteers are ready to work under your supervision, and
finish the uniform of their comrade."

The tailor glanced toward the two young volunteers. "Lads, scarcely
sixteen years old!" he said, shrugging his shoulders; "it is
impossible that they can be experienced artists."

"But both affirm that they are tailors," said Madam von Lutzow, "and
skilled in their trade."

"Yes, sir, please give us a trial," begged Leonora.

"We are quick and skilful workmen," protested Caroline.

"Regular tailors?" asked M, Martin.

"Yes, regular tailors," replied Leonora.

"Very well. Finish this collar; the needle is still in it," said M.
Martin, handing the scarlet soldier-jacket to Leonora.

The young volunteer blushed, and said in a low voice: "To be sure;
sir. I must ask you to show me how to do it, for I have never yet
worked on men's clothes."

"A ladies' tailor?" exclaimed M. Martin, with an expression of
boundless contempt. "The other one, too?"

"Yes, I also am a ladies' tailor," said Caroline, smiling.

"And they are bold enough to offer their assistance to me!"
exclaimed M. Martin, shrugging his shoulders.

"It is only necessary for you to give them proper directions, sir,"
said Madame von Lutzow, entreatingly, "for as they know how to ply
the needle they will easily understand what to do."

"And if the uniform should not fit well, or be badly made, it will
be laid at my door, and M. Martin will be blamed for it. I assure
you I cannot take the job; I am short of workmen of the necessary
experience. No one wants to work now-adays--all heads are turned--
all young men are enlisting."

"No, sir," said the lady, "all heads are turned right again--to one
thing necessary at this time--to the service of the fatherland."

"Bah! my shop is my fatherland," said the tailor, contemptuously.

"That is not true," exclaimed Madame von Lutzow, "you do not and
cannot think so. For if you did, you would be no Prussian, no
German, and no one could love and respect you. During the period of
adversity and disgrace, your shop may have been a comfort to you;
but now that the sun of liberty is rising, all hearts must throb
joyously; all must go out and gaze upon the new world; the shop no
longer contains the work worthy of a freeman--it is to be found only
on the battle-field--deliverance of the country!"

"The lady is right!" exclaimed the tailor's three assistants, who
had hitherto looked up but stealthily from their work, but now cast
it aside with impetuosity. "Yes, the lady is right! It is a shame
for honest men to sit here in this room and ply the needle, while
our friends and brethren are drawing the sword and marching out to
the holy war of liberation. We must also participate in the great
struggle!"

"Oh, yes," cried the tailor, in grim despair, "now my last workmen
are coaxed away from me! You have taken the money I offered you when
you entered my service, and as honest men you must keep your word.
Resume your work! You know well that we are very busy."

The men commenced their work again with morose faces, whispering to
each other: "As soon as the week has expired, we shall leave the
shop and enlist."

"Well, madame, what do you wish?" exclaimed the tailor, furiously.
"You have come to give me a job, and at the same time you disparage
my business, and seduce my workmen to leave me. I shall soon have to
close my shop."

"But you will not do so, dear M. Martin, before having made a
uniform for this young man," said Madame von Lutzow, in an
entreating tone and with a sweet smile. "I have certainly not come
to disparage your honorable business, for what should we do without
the skilful tailor, who makes the uniforms of our soldiers and fits
them out, as it were, for the service of their country? Oh, I am
sure that you have worked at them with grand reflections, since this
labor is more agreeable to you than if you had to make the most
gorgeous suit for a chamberlain, and it gladdens you to think: 'I am
likewise working hard for the fatherland. I am in my own way a
soldier of the country; for I devote to it my skill and labor.'"

"That is true," said M. Martin, in confusion, "and that you may not
believe me to be a worse man than I really am, I must tell you that
I do not take pay for these jobs, but that I have offered to make
twelve uniforms for our soldiers free of charge. I have nothing else
to offer; hence, I give all I can!"

"And there is no nobler gift!" exclaimed Madame von Lutzow. "You are
a good man; pray give me your hand and let me thank you." She
offered her hand to the tailor, and he put his broad, cold hand
timidly into it.

"Oh, now I fear nothing," said Madame von Lutzow, joyfully; "as you
are so good a patriot, you will fulfil our prayer, and make a
uniform for this young man for next Sunday."

"But I have told you already that I cannot," replied M. Martin,
almost tearfully--"I cannot finish it."

"And I reply: Try, sir! I am sure you will finish it. For, take into
consideration, dear M. Martin, that your own reputation is at stake,
and that all the brave volunteers would execrate your name if it
should be your fault that their favorite and celebrated bard could
not attend the Sunday's ceremony."

"How so? What bard do you allude to, madame?"

"I allude to the great poet who stands before you--Theodore Korner."

"Ah, this is Theodore Korner!" exclaimed the tailor, "The poet who
wrote 'Toni,' the splendid comedy that I saw last winter at our
theatre?"

"The same, my dear sir," said Madame von Lutzow, while Korner nodded
to the tailor with a pleasant smile. "And he has written many other
beautiful plays, and magnificent songs to boot. This is the reason
why, though he is only twenty-one years old, he is famous throughout
Germany, and at Vienna occupied a brilliant position. He is
affianced to a dear, sweet young woman, whom he loves with all his
heart, and to whom he was to be married within a month; but suddenly
the battle-cry of freedom resounded throughout Germany, the King of
Prussia called upon the able-bodied young men to volunteer and
avenge the disgrace of Germany, and see what love of country can
accomplish! The young man casts aside every thing--he gives up all,
his fame, his betrothed, his position, and hastens with enthusiasm
to offer his arm and his services-to exchange his poetical fame and
his earthly happiness for victory or an honorable death on the
battle-field."

"Oh, that is really glorious," cried the men, striking with their
clinched right hands their knee, as though it were a recruiting-
drum.

"Yes, it is so," said M. Martin, thoughtfully, to himself.

"Madame," whispered the poet, smiling, "you make me blush by your
too kind praise."

"Is it my fault that a plain statement of the facts in the case is
such praise for you?" asked Madame von Lutzow. "For I have told you
the truth, M. Martin, and all happened precisely as I have stated
it. He has given up all to enlist. Vainly do his parents and his
loved one weep for him. He hears nothing--sees nothing--for his
country calls him, and he obeys. He does not desire happiness before
his country is free, and sweeter than the most blissful life seems
to him a glorious death for the fatherland. So he has come; the
volunteers greeted him with shouts of exultation, and they believe
now that Providence will cause their arms and their bravery to be
successful, since an inspired bard will take the field with them,
and endow them with redoubled ardor by his songs. But, before taking
the field, they wish to implore God's blessing at the altar, and on
Sunday next all those who are already uniformed and equipped are to
take the oath of war and be consecrated. Theodore Korner has written
for the occasion a pious hymn, which all the volunteers will sing,
and now how can you be so cruel as to prevent him from singing his
own hymn with them?"

"I?" cried the tailor, in dismay.

"Yes, you! For, if you do not accommodate him, he cannot be
present."

M. Martin heaved a profound sigh, and cast a glance of despair
around his shop. "There are still three hussar-jackets to be
finished," he murmured. "If it were but a hussar-uniform that the
gentleman asks for! But he does not wish to join the hussars?"

"No, my friend. I enlist in the Legion of Vengeance, and become one
of Major von Lutzow's volunteer riflemen. It will, therefore, be
less troublesome to suit me."

"But that dress is not near as showy as the other," said the tailor,
morosely. "An entirely black uniform with red trimmings on the
sleeves looks sad, and--cruel."

"And that is as it ought to be, my dear sir. The black color
signifies our grief, the red signifies blood."

And suddenly he commenced to sing:

"Noch trauera wir im schwarzeu Racherkleide
Um den gestorbnen Muth,
Doch fragt man Euch, was dieses Roth bedeute;
Das deutet Frankenblut!"

"Mit Gott!--Einst geht hoch uber Feindesleichen
Der Stern des Friedens auf;
Dann pflanzen wir ein weisses Siegeszeichen
Am freien Rheinstrom auf."

[Footnote:
By this black uniform we ever mourn
The public spirit dead!
And why is then this crimson facing worn?--
With Frenchmen's blood it's red.

When high above vast heaps of slaughtered foes,
The star of peace shall shine,
The banner white, which victory bestows,
Raise by our own free Rhine.]

"Then we shall raise a white symbol of our victory on the banks of
the free Rhine!" echoed the volunteers, and the tailor and his
assistants.

"M. Martin!" cried Madame von Lutzow, laughing, "you have forgotten
yourself; you have joined in the chorus!"

"Yes, it is true," ho said, "I have sung these few words with them;
they make my heart swell, and--I do not know what has happened to
me--it seems to me the song and all you have said make another man
of me, and--"

"You will make the uniform for Theodore Korner?" asked Madame von
Lutzow, smiling.

M. Martin was silent, and quickly raised his head and looked at his
assistants, who were gazing at him inquiringly.

"You have made up your minds, then?" he asked; "when the week is up,
and your jobs are finished, you intend to leave me, and volunteer?"

"Yes, we have come to that determination," replied the three,
unanimously, "and nothing shall prevent us from carrying it out,"

"Well, then, I must close my shop, and discontinue the tailoring
business."

"But what do you intend to do, then, sir?" asked one of the
journeymen, in surprise.

"I intend to enlist!" replied M. Martin. "This beautiful lady and
the song have enchanted me. Hurrah! I also will enlist!"

"But my uniform?" asked Korner.

"Oh, you need not be concerned," exclaimed the tailor, in a proud
tone; "it shall be made! I will work all night, and not lay aside my
needle before it is done. Will you help me, journeymen?"

"Yes, sir, we will!"

"And you, too, volunteers? It is true, you are only ladies' tailors,
but you know at least how to line and pad a coat. Will you take the
job?"

"Yes, M. Martin, we will joyously do so," cried Leonora and
Caroline.

"Well, then, we can finish two uniforms by Sunday--one for the poet,
the other for myself!"

"My dear sir, I thank you from the bottom of my heart," said Madame
von Lutzow; and then, turning her radiant face to Korner, she asked,
"Are you now satisfied?"

"Ah, I knew well that no one could resist you, and that you are our
good angel," whispered the poet, pressing the hand of the lovely
lady to his lips.

"But listen, M. Korner," said the tailor; "if I am to work for you
so industriously, I must impose a condition, and you must promise to
fulfil it."

"What is it?"

"It is that you shall not pay me for my labor."

"But, sir, it is impossible for me to--"

Madame von Lutzow laid her hand softly on his shoulder. "I am sure
you do not wish to offend this excellent man?" she whispered.

"It is impossible for me to take pay for a favor which I do to one
of my future comrades," said M. Martin. "I suppose that is what you
wanted to say, and you are right. But if you insist on indemnifying
me, there is another way for you to do so."

"Pray tell me."

"You sang two verses, which sounded so bold and fresh that they
touched my heart. Was that the whole song, or are there any more
verses?"

"No, sir, they are the two last; three others precede them."

"Well, comrade," said M. Martin, gayly, "if you insist on my doing
my last tailoring job for you, then sing me the other three."

Korner glanced inquiringly at Madame Lutzow. "I do not know," he
said, hesitatingly, "if madame will permit it?"

Madame von Lutzow smiled. "I not only permit, but pray you to sing,"
she said. "Give us the whole song, and let us all join in the
refrain. Come, brave soldiers of the future! cast aside your work,
form in line, and sing with us the song of the Black Riflemen!"

The three journeymen jumped up, and posted themselves beside M.
Martin. The lady again withdrew to the door. On both sides stood the
two young volunteers, with their blooming faces, and between these
two groups stood the tall and noble form of the young poet, whose
fine face beamed with courage and energy, and on whose brow genius
had pressed the kiss of inspiration.

"Now, listen attentively!" said Theodore Korner, smiling. "My song
is easy to sing, for who is ignorant of the song of the Rhenish
wine? Let us sing it to that melody!"

And through the tailor's shop, hitherto so peaceful and silent,
resounded the song of the Black Riflemen:

"In's Feld, in's Feld, die Rachegeister mahnen,
Auf, deutsches Volk, zum Krieg!
In's Feld, in's Feld! Hoch flattern unsere Fahnen,
Sie fuhren uns zum Sieg!"

"Klein ist die Schaar, doch gross ist das Vertranen
Auf den gerechten Gott!
Wo seine Engel ihre Veste bauen,
Sind Hollenkunste Spott."

"Gebt kein Pardon! Konet Ihr das Schwert nicht heben,
So wurgt sie ohne Scheu!
Und hoeh verkauft den letzten Tropfen Leben,
Der Tod macht Alle freil"

[Footnote:
To the field! the spirits of vengeance cry;
Rise, and your country save!
Uplift your eagle banners to the sky--
For victory they wave!

In number small, but great our confidence
In a just God's decree;
When His own angels build our sure defence,
Vain is hell's strategy.

No quarter give, but strike the fatal blow,
Dear let your life-blood be;
Ask not for mercy, and to none bestow,
For death makes all men free.

This whole scene is based on facts, for which I am indebted to
personal communications from the Countess Ahlefeldt. Theodore Korner
fell in the first year of the war of liberation, before the decisive
battle of Leipsic, on the 26th of August, 1813, in a skirmish which
the corps of Major von Lutzow had with the French near Gadebusch.
Only an hour prior to his death, while lying in ambush, he wrote his
immortal "Song of the Sword" in his note-book. The statement of Mr.
Alison, the historian, that he was killed in the battle of Dresden,
is erroneous.

Leonora Prohaska fell in an engagement on the Gorde, the 16th of
September, 1813. A bullet pierced her breast. When she felt that she
was dying, she revealed to her comrades that she was a woman, and
that her name was Leonora Prohaska, and not Charles Renz.

Caroline Peters was more fortunate. She participated in the
campaigns of 1813 and 1814, was decorated with the order of the Iron
Cross on account of her bravery, and honorably discharged at the end
of the war. She was then married to the captain of an English vessel
whom she accompanied on his travels, and with whom she visited her
relatives at Stettin in 1844.--L. M.]

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE GENERAL-IN-CHIEF OF THE SILESIAN ARMY.

General Blucher was more morose and dejected than he had been for a
long time. From the day he heard of the king's arrival at Breslau,
and immediately left his farm of Kunzendorf to repair to that city,
a perpetual sunshine lit up his face, and a new spring bloomed in
his heart. But now the old clouds of Kunzendorf were again lowering
on his brow, and a frost seemed to have blighted all the blossoms of
his hope.

He sat on the sofa, closely wrapped in his dressing-gown, drumming
with his hand a quickstep on the table in front of him, while he was
blowing clouds of smoke from his long pipe. Very gloomy thoughts
appeared to fill Blucher's soul, for his bushy eyebrows contracted,
the quickstep was more rapid, and the smoke arose in denser masses.
In the violence of his inward trouble, he grimly shook his head
without thinking of the fragile friend in his mouth. Its delicate
form struck against the corner of the table and broke into pieces.

"So," muttered Blucher to himself, "that was just wanting to my
afflictions. It is the second pipe broken to-day. Well, there will
be a day when Bonaparte shall pay me these pipes that he has already
cost me. That day must come, or there is no justice in Heaven.
Christian! O Christian!"

The door opened. Christian Hennemann appeared on the threshold,
awaiting the orders of the general.

"Another wounded pipe, Christian," said Blucher, pointing at the
pieces on the floor. "Pick them up, and see if there is not a short
pipe among them."