Part 11

Whilst paying a well-merited tribute to the talents of our English military authors, we willingly acknowledge the claims of men, who, although born in another clime, and speaking a different tongue, are yet allied to us by blood, have fought under the same standard, and bled in the same cause. One of these, a German officer who shared the reverses and triumphs of the three eventful years, 1813 to 1815, beginning at Lutzen and ending with Waterloo, has recently published a volume of memoirs. It contains much of interest, and well deserves a notice in our pages.

William Baron von Rahden is a native of Silesia. His father, an officer in the Prussian service, was separated from his wife, after ten years' wedlock, by one of those divorces so easily procurable in Germany, and returned to Courland, his native country, leaving his children to their mother's care. At the age of six years, William, the second son, was adopted by a Silesian nobleman, a soldier by profession, who had served under Frederick the Great, and who, although he had long left the service, still retained in full force his military feelings and characteristics. The apartments of his country house were hung with portraits of his warlike ancestors; the officers of the neighbouring garrison were his constant guests. Thus it is not surprising that young Rahden's first associations and aspirations were all military, and that he eagerly looked forward to the day when he should don the uniform and signalise himself amongst his country's defenders. His wishes were early gratified. When only ten years old, he was sent to the military school at Kalisch.

The novitiate of a Prussian officer at the commencement of the present century was a severe ordeal, the road to rank any thing but a flowery path, and it was often with extreme unwillingness that the noble families of South Prussia yielded their sons to the tender mercies of the Kalisch college. The boys had frequently to be hunted out in the forests, where, through terror of the drill or in obedience to their parents, they had sought refuge, and when caught they were conducted in troops to their destination. On reaching the Prosna, a little river near Kalisch, they were stripped naked, their hair was cut close, and they were then driven into the water, whence, after a thorough washing, they emerged upon the opposite bank, there to be metamorphosed into Prussian warriors. The same operation, with the exception of the bath in the Prosna, was undergone by the willing recruits. Baron von Rahden gives a humorous account of the equipment of these infant soldiers, and of his own appearance in particular.

"The little lad of ten years old, broader than he was long, with his closely cropped head, upon the hinder part of which a bunch of hair was left, whereto to fasten a tail eight or ten inches long, and with a stiff stock over which his red cheeks puffed out like cushions, was altogether a most comical figure. The old uniform coats originally blue, but now all faded and threadbare, with facings of a brick-dust colour and great leaden buttons, never fitted the young bodies to which they were allotted; they were always either too long and broad, or too narrow and short. The same was the case with the other portions of the uniform, which were handed down from one generation of cadets to another, without reference to any thing but the number affixed to them. I got No. 24; I was heir to some lanky long-legged urchin, into whose narrow garments I had to squeeze my unwieldy figure. A yellow waistcoat of immoderate length, short white breeches, fastened a great deal too tight below the knee, grey woollen stockings and half-boots, composed the costume, which was completed by a little three-cornered hat, pressed low down over the eyes, with the view of imparting somewhat of the stern aspect of a veteran corporal to the red and white face of the juvenile wearer."

Such was the clothing of Prussia's future defenders. Their fare was of corresponding quality; abundant, but coarse in the extreme. The harsh and unswerving enactments of the great Frederic had as yet been but little amended. Moreover, by the system of military economy existing in 1804, both food and raiment were lawfully made a source of profit to the captain of this company of cadets. The director of the establishment Major Von Berg, was an excellent man, zealous for the improvement of his pupils, and striving his utmost to instil into them a military spirit. Under his superintendence strict discipline was maintained, and instruction advanced apace.

The year 1806 brought the French into Prussia. Marshal Ney visited Kalisch, and placed a score of cadets in the newly-formed Polish regiments. In due time the others, as they were given to understand, were to be similarly disposed of. Young Rahden wrote to his adopted father, begging to be removed from the college, lest he should be made to serve with the enemies of his country. But the old officer looked further forward than the impatient boy; he knew that it was no time for the youth of Prussia to abandon the military career; that the day would come when their country would claim their services. His reply was prompt, brief, and decided. "I will not take you home," he wrote; "for then you will learn nothing. Be a Polish or a French cadet, I care not; only become an honourable soldier, and all that is in my power will I do for you. But do not come to me like our young officers from Jena; for if you do, you will get neither bread nor water, but a full measure of disgrace. Your faithful father, T." This letter made a strong impression upon Von Rahden, and he nerved himself to endure what he now viewed as inevitable. For another year he remained at Kalisch, until, in December 1807, news came of the approach of Prince Ferdinand of Pless, who had thrown himself, with a few thousand men, between the French army, then on its march to Poland, and the Bavarians and Wurtembergers under Jerome Buonaparte. This intelligence caused universal alarm in the college of Kalisch, now become French.

"On the broad road in front of our barracks, large bodies of Polish boors, in coarse linen frocks, were drilled for the service of Napoleon by officers in Prussian uniforms; certainly a singular mixture. At the cry--'The Prussians are coming!' they all ran away, the officers the very first, and this might have given me an inkling of the reasons and motives of my father's severe letter. Under cover of the general confusion, a Prussian artilleryman muffled me and six other Silesian cadets in the linen frocks of the recruits, and hurried us off through field and forest, over bog and sand, to the Prince of Pless, whom we fell in with after thirty-six hours' wanderings. We were all weary to death. Nevertheless, five of my companions were immediately placed amongst the troops, who continued their route without delay; only myself and a certain Von M----, still younger than me, were left behind, as wholly unable to proceed. Of what passed during the next six weeks, I have not the slightest recollection. I afterwards learned that I had been seized with a violent nervous fever, the result of fatigue and excitement, and that I was discovered by a Bavarian officer in a Jew tavern near Medzibor, close to the frontier. The uniform beneath my smock-frock, and a small pocket-book, told my name and profession, and under a flag of truce I was sent into Breslaw, then besieged, to my mother, whom I had not seen for seven years."

After two years passed in idleness, young Von Rahden was attached as bombardier to the artillery at Glatz, and found himself under the command of a certain Lieutenant Holsche, an officer of impetuous bravery, but somewhat rough and hasty, and apt to show slight respect to his superiors. At that time, 1809, the Duke of Brunswick was recruiting at Nachod in Bohemia, within two German miles of Glatz, his famous black corps, the death's-head and _memento mori_ men--the Corps of Revenge, as it was popularly called in Germany. Numbers of Prussians, officers of all arms, left their homes in Silesia, where they vegetated on a scanty half-pay, to swell his battalions; and even from the garrison of Glatz officers and soldiers daily deserted to him, eager to exchange inaction for activity. Subsequently, many of these were tried and severely punished for their infringement of discipline, and over-eagerness in the cause of oppressed Germany, but the year 1813 again found them foremost in the ranks of their country's defenders.

On a certain morning, subsequent to Von Rahden's arrival at Glatz, the young artillery cadets were assembled on the parade-ground outside the gates of the fortress, and went through their exercise with four light guns, drawn, as was then the custom, by recruits instead of horses. Holsche, who was also known as the "Straw-bonnet" commandant, from his desperate defence of a detached work of the fort of Silberberg, which bore that name, was present. Although usually free and jocose with his subordinates, on that day he was grave and preoccupied, and twisted his black mustache with a thoughtful air. It was an oppressive and stormy morning, and distant thunder mingled with the sound of cannon, which the wind brought over from Bohemia.

"By a succession of marches and flank movements, Holsche took us through the river Neisse, which flowed at the extremity of the parade-ground, and was then almost dry. We proceeded across the country, and finally halted in a shady meadow. Here the word of command brought us round the lieutenant, who addressed us in a suppressed voice:--'Children,' said he, pointing towards Bohemia, 'yonder will I lead you; there you will be received with open arms. There, horses, not men, draw the guns, and many of you will be made sergeants and even officers. Will you follow me?' A loud and unanimous hurra was the reply. For a quarter of an hour on we went, over hedge and ditch, at a rapid pace. A heavy rain soaked the earth and rendered it slippery, the wheels of the gun-carriages cut deep into the ground, until we panted and nearly fell from our exertions to get them along. Suddenly the word was given to halt. 'Boys,' cried the lieutenant, 'many of you are heartily sick of this work; that I plainly see. Listen, therefore! I will not have it said that I compelled or over-persuaded any one. He who chooses may return, not to the town, but home to his mother. You children, in particular,' he added, stepping up to the first gun, to which five young lads, of whom I was the least, were attached as bombardiers, 'you children _must_ remain behind.' Against this decision we all protested. We would not go back, we screamed at the top of our voices. Holsche seemed to reflect. After a short pause, the tallest and stoutest fellow in the whole battery came to the front, and in a voice broken by sobs, begged the lieutenant to let him go home to his mother. 'Oho!' shouted Holsche, 'have I caught you, you buttermilk hero? Boys!' he continued, addressing himself to all of us, 'how could you believe that my first proposal was a serious one? I only wished to ascertain how many cowards there were amongst you. Thank God, there is but one! Help me to laugh at the fellow!' A triple shout of laughter followed the command; then 'Right about' was the word, and in an hour's time, weary and wet through, we were again in our barracks."

The pluck and hardihood displayed on this occasion by the boy-bombardier won the favour of Holsche, who took him into the society of the officers, gave him private lessons in mathematics, and did all he could to bring him forward in his profession. But, soon afterwards, Rahden's destination was altered, and, instead of continuing in the artillery, he was appointed to the second regiment of Silesian infantry, now the eleventh of the Prussian line. In this regiment he made his first campaigns, and served for nearly twenty years. In the course of the war he frequently fell in with his friend Holsche, and we shall again hear of that eccentric but gallant officer.

The year 1813 found Von Rahden, then nineteen years of age, holding a commission as second lieutenant in the regiment above named, and indulging in brilliant day-dreams, in which a general's epaulets, laurel crowns, and crosses of honour, made a conspicuous figure. But a very small share of these illusions was destined to realisation. For the time, however, and until experience dissipated them, they served to stimulate the young soldier to exertion, and to support him under hardship and suffering. Such stimulus, however, was scarcely needed. The hour was come for Germany to start from her long slumber of depression, and to send forth her sons, even to the very last, to victory or death. The disasters of the French in Russia served as signal for her uprising.

"The great events which the fiery sign in the heavens (the comet of 1811) was supposed to forerun, came to pass in the last months of the following year. The French bulletin of the 5th December 1812, announced the terrible fate of the Grande Armée, and removed the previously existing doubt, whether it were possible to humble the invincible Emperor and his presumptuous legions. It was a sad fate for veteran soldiers, grown grey in the harness, to be frozen to death, or, numbed and unable to use their weapons, to be defencelessly murdered. Such was the lot of the French, and although they were then our bitterest foes, to-day we may well wish that they had met a death more suitable to brave men. At Malo-Jaroslawetz, at Krasnoi, and by the Beresina, whole battalions of those frozen heroes were shot down, unable to resist. Do the Russians still commemorate such triumphs? Hardly, one would fain believe. No man of honour, in our sense of the word, would now command such massacres; for only when our foes are in full possession of their physical and moral strength, is victory glorious. But at that time I lacked the five-and-thirty years' experience that has enabled me to arrive at these conclusions; I was almost a child, and heartily did I rejoice that the whole of the Grande Armée was captured, slain, or frozen. The joy I felt was universal, if that may serve my excuse.

"Like some wasted and ghastly spectre, hung around with rags, its few rescued eagles shrouded in crape, the remains of the great French army recrossed the German frontier. Sympathy they could scarce expect in Germany; pity they found, and friendly arms and fostering care received the unfortunates. So great a mishap might well obliterate hostile feelings; and truly, it is revolting to read, in the publications of the time, that 'at N---- or B---- the patriotic inhabitants drove the French from their doors, refusing them bread and all refreshment.' Then, however, I rejoiced at such barbarity, which appeared to me quite natural and right. One thing particularly astonished me; it was, that amongst the thirty thousand fugitives, there were enough marshals, generals, and staff-officers to supply the whole army before its reverses. Either they had better horses to escape upon, or better cloaks and furs to wrap themselves in; thus not very conscientiously fulfilling the duty of every officer, which is to share, in all respects, the dangers and fatigues of his subordinates."[48]

The hopes and desires of every Prussian were now concentrated on one single object--the freedom of the Fatherland. Breslaw again became the focus of the whole kingdom. From all sides thousands of volunteers poured in, and the flower of Prussia's youth joyfully exchanged the comforts and superfluities of home for the perils and privations of a campaigner's life. Universities and schools were deserted; the last remaining son buckled on hunting-knife and shouldered rifle and went forth to the strife, whilst the tender mother and anxious father no longer sought to restrain the ardour of the Benjamin of their home and hearts. All were ready to sacrifice their best and dearest for their country's liberation. Women became heroines; men stripped themselves of their earthly wealth for the furtherance of the one great end. In Breslaw the enthusiasm was at the hottest. In an idle hour, Von Rahden had sauntered to the college, the Aula Leopoldina, and stood at an open window listening to a lecture on anthropology, delivered by a young, but already celebrated professor. Little enough of the learned discourse was intelligible to the juvenile lieutenant, but still he listened, when suddenly the stillness in the school was broken by the clang of wind instruments.

The people shouted joyful hurras, casements were thrown open, and thronged with women waving their handkerchiefs. Professor and scholars hurried to the windows and into the street. What had happened? It was soon known. A score of couriers, blowing furious blasts upon their small post-horns, dashed through the town-gates, and the next instant a shout of "War! War!" burst from ten thousand throats. The couriers brought intelligence of the alliance just contracted at Kalisch between the Emperor Alexander and the King of Prussia.

When the clamour and rejoicing amongst the students had a little subsided, their teacher again addressed them. All were silent. Twisting a small silver pencil-case between his thin fingers, he began as follows: "My young friends! It would be difficult to resume the thread of a lecture thus abruptly broken by the sound of the war-trumpet. At this moment our country demands of us other things than a quiet abode in the halls of study. I propose to you, therefore, that we all, without exception, at once join the ranks of our country's defenders, and henceforward wield the sword instead of the pen." This patriotic proposal was received with joyous applause. Professor Steffens and hundreds of his hearers left the lecture-room, exchanged the university gown for the uniform, and from that day were the pith and marrow of the black band of Lutzow. It is matter of history how Henry Steffens, at the head of his wild Jägers, greatly distinguished himself in the field, won the Iron Cross, and by his animated eloquence and noble example, drew thousands of brave defenders around the standard of German independence. Thirty-two years later, at Berlin, Baron von Rahden followed his mortal remains to their last resting-place.

Other examples of devotion, less known but not less touching, are cited in the volume before us. When the King of Prussia's celebrated proclamation "TO MY PEOPLE," had raised German enthusiasm to its highest pitch, and the noble-hearted women of Silesia sent their jewels to the public treasury, replacing them by iron ornaments, a young girl at Breslaw, who had nothing of value to contribute, cut off the luxuriant golden tresses that adorned her graceful head, and sold them, that she might add her mite to the patriotic fund. The purchaser gave a high price, but yet made an enormous profit; for no sooner was the story known, than hundreds of those then arming for the fight flew to obtain a golden hair-ring, to wear as a talisman in the battle-field. This heroine, Baron von Rahden believes, was a Fraulein von Scheliha, a name noted in the annals of Prussian patriotism. The three sons of a Herr von Scheliha, officers in various regiments, fell in the campaign of 1813. Their mother and only sister died of broken hearts, and the father, bowed down under his grief, sold his estate and country-house, which now only served to remind him of his losses. The King of Prussia sent him the Iron Cross; and that and the sympathy of all who knew his sad history, were the only remaining consolations of the bereaved old man. A Silesian count, named Reichenbach, wrote to the King in the following terms: "If it please your majesty to allow me, I will send five thousand measures of corn and my draught oxen to the military stores for rations, and my best horses to the ---- regiment of cavalry; I will equip all the men on my estates capable of bearing arms, and they shall join the ---- regiment of infantry, and I will pay ten thousand thalers into the military chest. For my three sons I crave admission into the army as volunteers. And, finally, I humbly implore of your majesty that I myself; who, although advanced in years, am strong and willing, may be permitted to march by their side, to teach then to fight and, if needs be, to die. Meanwhile, my wife and daughters shall remain at home to prepare lint, sew bandages, and nurse the sick and wounded."

A Major Reichenbach commanded Von Rahden's battalion, and under his guidance the young lieutenant first smelled powder. It was at Lutzen, a bloody fight, and no bad initiation for an unfledged soldier. Although modest and reserved when speaking of his own exploits, it is not difficult to discern that on this, as on many subsequent occasions, the baron bore himself right gallantly. At eleven o'clock the army of the Allies stood in order of battle, Von Rahden's battalion, which formed part of General Kleist's division, in the centre, and well to the front. At a distance of six or eight hundred paces, the hostile masses moved to and fro, alternately enveloped in clouds of dust, and disappearing behind trees and houses. The fight began with artillery. "The first round-shot whizzed close over the heads of the battalion, and buried itself in the ground a few hundred paces in our rear. A second immediately followed, carrying away a few bayonets and the drum-major's cane. Each time the whole battalion, as if by word of command, bobbed their heads, and the men pressed closer together. In front of us sat our commandant, Count Reichenbach, reining in his splendid English roan, which snorted and curveted with impatience. The count had not bowed his head; he had made the Rhine campaigns, and a cannon-ball was nothing new to him. He turned to the battalion, slapping his leg with his right hand, whilst a comical twitching of his nose and at the corner of his mouth betrayed his discontent. 'Men!' said he, 'balls that whistle do not hit, so it is useless to fear them. Henceforward, let no one dare to stoop.' Hardly had the words left his lips when a third shot passed close over his head and dashed into the battalion. This time very few made the respectful salutation which had occasioned the count's reproof, but astonishment and horror were visible on every countenance when we saw our dear comrades struck down by our side.

"After an hour's cannonade the infantry advanced. Skirmishers were thrown out, and the musketry came into play; and truly, often as I have been in action, such firing as at Lutzen I never since heard. From about mid-day till nine at night, one uninterrupted roll; not even for a moment were single shots to be distinguished. My old comrades will bear witness to the truth of this.

"Our light company hastened forward as skirmishers, Lieutenant Merkatz led them on, and, with waving sword and a joyful shout, rushed towards the foe, full a hundred paces in front of his men. Soon the wounded straggled, and were carried past us by dozens--amongst others Anselme, captain of the company. A rifle-ball had shattered his right shoulder. When I saw him, twenty-five years later, as a general, he still carried his arm in a sling, fragments of bone frequently came away, and his sufferings were very great. Such wounds as his no gold, or title, or decorations can repay; in the consciousness of having done one's duty the only compensation is to be found."