In the summer of 1841 there appeared in Switzerland a little book, entitled _Gedichte eines Lebendigen_ ("Poems of a Living Man"). It contained many an astounding verse; among others: "Reisst die Kreuze aus der Erden! Alle sollen Schwerter werden! Gott im Himmel wird's verzeihn. Lasst, o lasst das Verseschweissen, Auf den Amboss legt das Eisen, Heiland soll das Eisen sein."[4] [4] Tear the crosses from the graves; 'Tis the sword alone that saves; God forgives the deed ye do. Leave, oh leave your rhyming trade; Steel on anvil must be laid-- Steel shall bring us safely through. (JOYNES.) And: "Brause, Gott, mit Sturmesodem durch die fürchterliche Stille, Gieb ein Trauerspiel der Freiheit für der Sklaverei Idylle! Lass das Herz doch wieder schlagen in der Brust der kalten Welt Und erweck ihr einen Rächer und erweck ihr einen Held!"[5] [5] Let thy tempest blow, O God, and put an end to this terrible calm! Give us a tragedy of liberty in place of this idyll of slavery! Set the heart of the clay-cold world beating again; raise up for her an avenger; awaken for her a hero! The collection was prefaced by a poetical challenge "To the Dead Man," namely Prince Pückler, who had written under this pseudonym. He was chosen as the representative of the careless pleasure-lovers who seek distraction in travel. The attack was unjust, but how fine it sounded! The anonymous author, whose name soon became public property, was a young man of twenty-four, Georg Herwegh, born in Würtemberg in 1817, and educated at the well-known Tübingen Institution. While serving his time in the army, Herwegh quarrelled with an officer, and was obliged to take refuge in Switzerland, where he lived for several years, associating with other refugees and other youthful Radicals. His poems, with their fresh, energetic, and yet vague Radicalism, at once made their mark, and attained an immense circulation in the course of a few months. The sentiment of these poems is somewhat mixed. Now it is with tyrants, now with Philistines, that their author is at war; at one time he discovers the enemies of the good cause in Germany itself, at another abroad; now he writes as a staunch Republican; again, following the example of Platen, he appeals earnestly, imploringly to the King of Prussia, warning him, but at the same time assuring him that it is not too late: "Du bist der Stern, auf den man schaut, Der letzte Fürst, auf den man baut."[6] [6] Thou art the star to which we turn our eyes, Of monarchs all the last in whom our hope yet lies. The public of that day overlooked the young poet's want of consistency; his enthusiasm was infectious, his melodious lyrical rhetoric irresistible. He was the first lyric poet who had taken men's hearts by storm since the days of Goethe and Schiller. From the Alps to the Baltic the young men sang: _Reisst die Kreuze aus der Erden!_