The church bells were ringing, and amid their solemn peals and the deafening cheers of the many thousands who nodded to them in the streets, and from the windows of the houses, the young soldiers left the Gendarmes market, escorted by the members of the municipality. They did not, however, march directly to the Potsdam gate. They would not leave Berlin without receiving the blessing of the Church, and this was to be given by the man who read to them the manifesto four days before, and who had exhorted them to comply with the call of their country. A committee, appointed by the young volunteers, had therefore waited on Schleiermacher, and requested him to give the blessing of the Church to their grave undertaking, and he gladly granted their request. The procession marched to Trinity church. There were waiting their mothers, sisters, and brides, greeting them with loving glances, and beckoning them to occupy the reserved places, embracing and praying hand in hand with them for the last time. The organ poured forth its solemn concords, and from all lips burst forth the anthem of "In allen meinen Thaten lass ich den Hochsten rathen." [Footnote: "In all my deeds. I let the Highest counsel.">[ The last notes of the music had not yet died away, when the noble face of Schleiermacher appeared in the pulpit. His eyes were beaming as never before; his voice was never so fervent and powerful, nor had he ever spoken with such irresistible eloquence, energy, and courage, as on that day. A profound silence reigned in the vast building; every one listened eagerly to the inspiring words of the prophet of a new and better era, and inwardly resolved to remember the stirring exhortations which Schleiermacher now, in concluding his sermon, addressed to the young men, that they may remain pure and true in the service of so righteous a cause. The thoughts of the audience were with God; to Him their hearts had all turned. But now Schleiermacher's voice grew softer; his eyes, which had hitherto been raised toward heaven, looked upon the wives and mothers, who sat in long lines before him. "Rejoice in the Lord, ye mothers," he said, "blessed are you in having given birth to such sons! blessed your breasts that nourished such children! God gave them to you, and you give them to the fatherland! Rejoice in the Lord, for He will achieve great things through them! Rejoice, and do not weep!" But now they could restrain no longer their tears and sobs. The words addressed to them had touched their feelings. They felt their hearts' wounds, and wept aloud. An electric shock, as it were, pervaded the whole assembly; not an eye remained dry, not a heart was unmoved; even Schleiermacher's voice was tremulous when he uttered his "Amen!"
They departed from the church to the Potsdam gate, and along the road leading to Potsdam, continuing their march on the following day, after being joined by the company which La Motte Fouque had recruited in that city. The grief of their separation from their dear ones was forgotten as they hastened toward the future—a future of battles and victories.
"Now, no more tears, no more sighs! Let us sing a merry song!" said the young volunteers.
"Yes. Where is a poet who can sing us a song such as we need now?"
"Fouque is here; let him sing! Yes, Fouque is among us! We have elected him captain! He is a chivalrous soldier, and gained his spurs in 1794, during the war against the French. He deserves to be our captain!"
"But he deserves, too, to be our bard, for by his 'Undine' he has also won his laurels as a poet."
"Let us have a song, brave La Motte Fouque!" shouted all the volunteers. "There is Father Jahn, who will persuade him. Ask Fouque to sing us a war-song!"
Jahn galloped up to the poet, who was riding in thoughtful silence at the head of his company; it is true, he had heard the solicitations of the young men, but continued his way, smiling and muttering to himself. "Fouque," shouted Jahn, in his stentorian voice; "do you not hear the requests of our bold youths? Give some expression to the enthusiasm burning in their hearts. Let us have a song, then, my poet!"
"Well," replied Fouque, quickly raising his head, and smiling on his friend; "I have just composed a poem. Listen to me, my friends!" He turned his horse, and in a loud voice commanded the volunteers to halt.
"You wish me to sing. I will give you a song just as it has sprung up in my heart during the march, and I have also composed the air. When I have finished repeat it with me!" And he began to sing in a powerful voice: