Posthumous portrait in Lützow uniform by his aunt Dora Stock (1814)
Korner is one of the poets of whom modern Germany is justly proud. His was not the mere theoretic heroism which contents itself with celebrating the deeds of others. His own conduct embodied the most noble conceptions of his imagination, and his life and death exhibited a splendid example of the patriotism which breathed throughout his verse. He was born at Dresden in 1791. His education was of the most careful kind. He was not only instructed in various branches of learning, but the elegant accomplishments of the fine arts were added, and the exercises of the body were not less attended to than those of the mind. Called upon to choose some occupation, he determined to apply himself to mining, and took up his residence at Vienna, where he enjoyed the advantage of a familiar intercourse with William Von Humboldt, the Prussian ambassador, Frederic Schlegel, and other eminent literary and scientific men. Here, within the short space of fifteen months, he produced a rapid succession of dramas, operas, and farces, as well as several small poems. The success of his works obtained him the appointment of poet to the court. He was now in the enjoyment of all that could render life happy—competence, distinction, esteem, friendship and love; but he resolved to sacrifice them all "for that greatest mortal blessing, his country's freedom."
"Could I," says he, in a letter to his father, "could I, think you, stand aloof, contented to celebrate with weak inspiration the success of my conquering brethren? I am aware that you will suffer much anxiety,—My mother too will weep—may God be her comfort!—I cannot spare you this trial. That I simply offer my life is of little import; but that I offer it, crowned as it is with all the flowery wreaths of love, of friendship, and of joy,—that I cast away the sweet sensations which lived in the conviction that I have caused you no inquietude, no anguish,—this indeed is a sacrifice which can only be opposed to such a prize!"
He left Vienna in March 1813, and joined the free corps which Major Von Lutzow was then forming. This was a voluntary association, and the corps was remarkable throughout the war for its valour and enterprise. In the midst of the most active campaigns, Korner continued to pour forth his verses. Other poets have written of battles in the retirement of the closet, but he sang his song of war on the tented field, and amid the din of conflict. Nor was this all: he collected too the strains of other poets, and adapted them to appropriate airs, to animate the ardour of his companions in arms. We cannot follow him through his career, brief as it was; but the subjoined incident is too striking to be omitted, and is especially adapted to our purpose, as it affords an opportunity of giving a passage of his unpremeditated verse in a moment of pain and danger.
On the 28th of May, Major Von Lutzow had determined on setting out on an expedition towards Thuringia, with four squadrons of his cavalry, and fifty cossacks. Korner earnestly entreated permission to accompany him, and his desire was fulfilled by his being appointed adjutant by Major Von Lutzow, who highly esteemed him, and wished to have him near his person.
The expedition passed in ten days through Halberstadt, Eisleben, Buttstadt, and Schlaitz, to Plauen, though not without encountering great danger from the enemy, who were dispersed throughout these districts, but, also, not without effecting some important results. Intelligence and information were procured, ammunition was captured and seized, and couriers on missions of importance were taken prisoners. The gallant troop acquired considerable renown, and harassed the enemy much, especially by cutting off his communications. A plan was in consequence laid by the French emperor for the extirpation of the corps, that, as a deterring example, no man should be left alive. The armistice, concluded at this moment, afforded an opportunity for putting it in practice. (The Duke of Padua, it is observable, particularly profited by this armistice; for being shut up in Leipzig by Generals Woronzow and Czernichef, with the co-operation of two battalions of the Lutzow infantry, he was only saved by this cessation of hostilities.)
Major Von Lutzow had received official information of the armistice at Plauen. Without expecting to meet with any opposition, he chose the shortest route to rejoin the infantry of his corps, having received the most confidential assurances of safety from the enemy's commanding officers, and proceeded along the high road, without interruption, to Kitzen, a village in the neighbourhood of Leipzig; but here he found himself surrounded and menaced by a very superior force. Theodore Korner was despatched to demand an explanation; but, instead of replying, the commander of the enemy struck at him with his sword; and it being now twilight, a general attack was made on the three squadrons of the Lutzow cavalry before they had drawn a sabre. Several were wounded and taken, and others dispersed in the surrounding country; but Major Von Lutzow himself was saved by the assistance of a squadron of Uhlans, who being in advance with the Cossacks, formed the van-guard, and consequently were not assailed at the same moment. He reached, with a considerable body of his troops, the right bank of the Elbe, where the infantry of his corps, and a squadron of its cavalry, were already collected.
Korner received the first blow, which he was not prepared to parry, as he approached close to the enemy's commanding officer to deliver his message without drawing his sabre, and was thus severely wounded in the head: the second blow only inflicted a slight injury. He fell back, but speedily recovered himself, and his spirited steed bore him in safety to a neighbouring wood. He was here occupied, at the first moment, with the assistance of a comrade, in binding up his wounds, when he perceived a troop of the enemy, who were in pursuit, riding towards him. His presence of mind did not forsake him, but turning towards the wood, he called with a loud voice, "Fourth squadron,—Advance!"—His stratagem succeeded—the enemy were appalled, drew back, and thus afforded him time to conceal himself deeper in the wood. It had now become dark, and he found a place in the thicket where he could remain undiscovered.
The pain of the deeper wound became very severe, his strength was exhausted, and his last hope was gone. It was in this extremity that he composed the beautiful sonnet, of which the following is a translation:—
FAREWELL TO LIFE.
[Written in the night of the 17th and 18th of June, as I lay, severely wounded and helpless in a wood, expecting to die.]
"My deep wound burns;—my pale lips quake in death,—
I feel my fainting heart resign its strife,
And reaching now the limit of my life,
Lord, to thy will I yield my parting breath!
Yet many a dream hath charm'd my youthful eye;
And must life's fairy visions all depart;
Oh surely no! for all that fired my heart
To rapture here, shall live with me on high.
And that fair form that won my earliest vow,
That my young spirit prized all else above,
And now adored as freedom, now as love,
Stands in seraphic guise, before me now.
And as my fading senses fade away,
It beckons me, on high, to realms of endless day!"
Körner at a forward post, by Georg Friedrich Kersting (1815)
During the night he heard the enemy searching the wood near him, but afterwards fell asleep, and was saved in the morning by two peasants. He was conveyed secretly into Leipsic, which was then under the French yoke, and where the concealment of any of the Lutzow free corps was prohibited, under severe punishment. He subsequently travelled in safety to Berlin, and having recovered from his wound, rejoined the corps of Lutzow on the right bank of the Elbe. Hostilities recommenced on the 17th of August; and on the 28th an engagement took place near Rosenberg, in which Korner fell. He was in pursuit of a body of the enemy, when the riflemen, who had found a rallying-place in some under-wood, sent forth a shower of balls upon their pursuers. By one of these Korner was wounded in the abdomen, the liver and spine were injured, and he was immediately deprived of speech and consciousness. He was carried to a neighbouring wood, but all medical aid was vain. He was buried under an oak in the village of Wobbelin, about a mile from Ludwigslust. A tomb has since been placed over his remains, and enclosed by a wall. He died at the early age of twenty-two.
From a Critical Notice of The Life of Korner, New Monthly Mag.
Cannot he that wisely declines walking upon the ice for fear of falling, though possibly it might carry him sooner to his journey's end, as wisely forbear drinking more wine than is necessary, for fear of being drunk and the ill-consequences thereof?—Lord Clarendon.
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