So sang Schiller; and, while in Germany the Muse was ascending to the heights in which Schiller gloried to see her, the opposite process had been producing opposite results under the rule of another German sovereign. Frederick II. of Prussia preferred bad French to the best utterances of his own country; and so the German Muse was free to develope in her own way. Joseph II. of Austria felt his heart warmed with the greatness of German traditions; he looked round on dominions inhabited by men of different races and languages, and, perceiving that these differences led to continual misunderstandings, and hindered any great work of common reform, resolved to extend the blessings of German language and literature to all the races of his dominions. To them, he thought, a change would prove a bond of union; while neither Bohemian, Hungarian, nor Croat could claim for their native tongues, however dear to them, such glorious associations and traditions as were already connected with the language which was to take their place.
The consequence of this nobly intended effort has been that German is, to this day, a badge of tyranny to the majority of the people of the western half of the Austrian Empire; and if it has almost ceased to be so in the eastern half, that is simply because its supremacy has been replaced by the no less crushing tyranny of another language which was offered to the various populations of the Hungarian kingdom by its rulers, as a symbol of national freedom and unity.
The spirit of literary independence in North Germany, and the rivalry of languages in the Austrian Empire, were both forcing themselves on the attention of the public during the period of Metternich's rule. To outward appearance there was no time at which the condition of Germany must have seemed more helpless and hopeless than between 1819 and 1840. The German insurrections of 1831 could not be compared for their historical importance with either the English reform movement of the same period, or with the Italian uprisings; nor for dramatic brilliancy with the Polish insurrection of 1830. Even the Hanoverian Constitution of 1833, which seemed to be firmly established, went down four years later without a sword being drawn in its defence; while the heavy burdens of the Carlsbad decrees of 1819 and the Frankfort decrees of 1832 were made still heavier in 1834 by a new Edict, passed at Vienna, establishing courts of arbitration, elected by members of the Bund, to decide questions at issue between sovereigns and parliaments. If the Assemblies, in defending their rights of taxation, should refuse to appeal to this Court, the sovereign might then proceed to levy, without further delay, the supplies which had been granted by the previous Assembly.
Yet Germany was not dead. Apart from the continual assertions of independence by the South German States, the growth of German literature was keeping alive the sense of union between the different parts of the nation. Stein, after his retirement from political affairs, had devoted himself to the encouragement of German literature, and particularly of German history. For this purpose he brought together historians from different parts of Germany; and Perthes, the bookseller, who had helped to defend Hamburg against the French, exerted himself to promote a book trade which was to unite the North and South of Germany. Occasionally, some prince, like the Duke of Saxe-Coburg Gotha, would show an inclination to play the part of the Duke of Weimar as a patron of literature, but could only call attention thereby to such life as still remained, not evoke any new life. The German Muse was still to thrive by her own labours, and the great proof of the existence of a still independent literary class was given in 1837, when the King of Hanover suppressed the Constitution which his predecessor had established.
On November 17th, 1837, seven professors of Göttingen University drew up against this act of tyranny a protest which so ably connected the feeling of the true literary man and the true teacher with that of the independent citizen that it deserves to be given at length. They said that the whole chance of the success of their work depended not more certainly on the scientific worth of their teaching than on their personal blamelessness. Should they appear before the young students as men who would play carelessly with their oaths, then at once the blessing of their work would be gone; and what importance could the oath of homage possibly have, if the King had received it from men who just before had audaciously violated another oath? This protest was signed by Dahlmann, Albrecht, Gervinus, the brothers Grimm, Weber, and Ewald. They were summarily dismissed from their offices by the King, who declared that he could buy professors anywhere for money, as easily as dancers. At once the greatest enthusiasm broke out in different parts of Germany. In Leipzig and Königsberg subscriptions were opened for the professors, and in twelve hours the Leipzigers had subscribed nearly 1,000 thalers. The subscription of Leipzig was followed by a public reception given to Albrecht and Dahlmann; an address was delivered in which the professors were told that the whole heart of the German people beat with them. The man who delivered this address, and who thus first made his appearance before the public, was the Leipzig bookseller, Robert Blum. In Saxony the Constitution which had been won in 1831 was still nominally in existence, and the Prime Minister was even called a Liberal. The Members of the Parliament hoped to seize this opportunity of putting Saxony forward as the champion of German rights; but the Government shrank from that position, and seemed disposed even to check the independent movement among the people.
Now in spite of the steady courage that had shown itself among the literary men of Germany, the bulk of the nation was still essentially monarchical, and they needed some king at the head of the movement for freedom and unity. However much of Liberalism might occasionally have been shown by some of the smaller princes of Germany, none of them were in a position to take the leading part in any common German movement. The Emperor of Austria, even had his policy tended in that direction, was hindered by his connection with non-German territories from assuming such a leadership. And the memories of 1813 gathered, if not round the King of Prussia, at least round his kingdom. The institution of the Zollverein formed one point of attraction between Prussia and the Liberals of Germany; the position of Prussia as the great Protestant Power strengthened her influence in Northern Germany; and just at the time when the King of Hanover was dismissing the professors of Göttingen, the King of Prussia was supporting at the University of Bonn professors whom the Archbishop of Cologne was trying to suppress. The prohibition of mixed marriages by the same Archbishop further excited Frederick William's opposition; and, unable to secure obedience by other methods, the King seized and imprisoned the Archbishop. An act of tyranny in the interests of liberty seems to commend itself more readily to Continental revolutionists than to those who have been bred up under the principle of mutual forbearance produced by Constitutional life; and there can be little doubt that much of the strongest part of North German feeling was enlisted on the side of the King of Prussia. But Frederick William III. was not a man to take the lead in anything. By the mere accident of his position he had become the figure-head of the rising of 1813; and by the same accident he continued to attract the wishes, one can hardly say the hopes, of those who desired to counteract in Germany the policy of Metternich. He could at no time have done much to help forward the unity of Germany; and he had long since abandoned any wish to work in that direction.
But while the excitement arising from the tyranny of the King of Hanover, and the struggle of the King of Prussia with the Archbishop of Cologne, were still distracting Germany, Frederick William III. died, and was succeeded by Frederick William IV. The new King was a man of somewhat poetical and enthusiastic temperament, with a strong religious bias, desirous in a way of the welfare of his people, and not ill disposed to play a Liberal part within due limits. He restored Arndt to his position at Bonn; he set free not only Jahn, but also the Archbishop of Cologne; he found a post for Dahlmann in the University of Bonn; and he began also to talk Constitutionalism in a way which roused new hopes in Germany. He inspired no confidence in those who looked more closely into matters; but his career began at a time when the Germans were in a state of eager expectation, which had been quickened by a movement already preparing in other parts of Germany. The first utterance of the new reformers was a protest against religious superstition. A Roman Catholic priest, named Ronge, denounced the famous worship of the Holy Coat at Treves. This protest attracted attention, and was followed by an attack on a number of other corruptions of the Roman Catholic Church. The movement spread; a reformed Catholic Church was founded in Posen and Silesia, and Ronge was appointed minister of the first congregation of the new faith.
It was in 1845 that the movement reached Saxony. Two years before, the Liberal Ministry had retired; a complete reaction had set in, and Robert Blum had been subjected to a fine and four weeks' imprisonment for an article in which he had advocated publicity of trial. Nothing daunted by this, Blum threw himself heartily into the new movement, and, although a Roman Catholic himself, denounced the practice of the confessional and the celibacy of the clergy. The Ultramontanes raised a riot in which Blum was personally attacked, and the Saxon Ministry declared their determination to put down "the sects." Such a threat naturally gave new force to the reformers, and they raised the cry, so often to be heard in the coming Liberal movements, of "Down with the Jesuits!" That unfortunate Society, so often the object of hatred both to kings and Peoples, was in this case specially obnoxious to the Liberals from the patronage which was extended to it by the heir to the throne. When the Prince appeared to review the troops at Leipzig he was received in silence, and when he had retired to his hotel the crowd gathered round it with cries of "Long live Ronge!" and "Down with the Jesuits!" accompanied by the singing of "Ein fester Burg ist unser Gott," and followed by songs of a different description. Stones soon began to fly. Then the soldiers were called out, they fired on the crowd, and many were killed.