be told not to seat themselves behind and in front.  But Bakunin remained quite unconcerned, and elected to give me a short account of the retreat from Dresden, which had been successfully achieved without loss.  He had had the trees in the newly planted Maximilian Avenue felled early in the morning to form a barricade against a possible flank attack of cavalry, and had been immensely entertained by the lamentations of the inhabitants, who during the process did nothing but bewail their Scheene Beeme. [Footnote:  Saxon corruption of schtine Bourne, beautiful trees.—­Editor.] All this time our driver’s lamentations over his coach were growing more importunate.  Finally he broke into loud sobs and tears, upon which Bakunin, regarding him with positive pleasure, called out:  ’The tears of a Philistine are nectar for the gods.’  He would not vouchsafe him a word, but Heubner and I found the scene tiresome, whereupon he asked me whether we two at least should not get out, as he could not ask it of the others.  As a matter of fact, it was high time to leave the coach, as some new contingents of revolutionaries had formed up in rank and file all along the highway to salute the provisional government and receive orders.  Heubner strode down the line with great dignity, acquainted the leaders with the state of affairs, and exhorted them to keep their trust in the righteousness of the cause for which so many had shed their blood.  All were now to retire to Freiberg, there to await further orders.

A youngish man of serious mien now stepped forward from the ranks of the rebels to place himself under the special protection of the provisional government.  He was a certain Menzdorff, a German Catholic priest whom I had had the advantage of meeting in Dresden. (It was he who, in the course of a significant conversation, had first induced me to read Feuerbach.) He had been dragged along as a prisoner and abominably treated by the Chemnitz municipal guard on this particular march, having originally been the instigator of a demonstration to force that body to take up arms and march to Dresden.  He owed his freedom only to the chance meeting with other better disposed volunteer corps.  We saw this Chemnitz town guard ourselves, stationed far away on a hill.  They sent representatives to beseech Heubner to tell them how things stood.  When they had received the information required, and had been told that the fight would be continued in a determined manner, they invited the provisional government to quarter at Chemnitz.  As soon as they rejoined their main body we saw them wheel round and turn back.

With many similar interruptions the somewhat disorganised procession reached Freiberg.  Here some friends of Heubner’s came to meet him in the streets with the urgent request not to plunge their native place into the misery of desperate street-fighting by establishing the provisional government there.  Heubner made no reply to this, but requested Bakunin and myself to accompany him into his house for a consultation.  First we had to witness the painful meeting between Heubner and his wife; in a few words he pointed out the gravity and importance of the task assigned to him, reminding her that it was for Germany and the high destiny of his country that he was staking his life.