In
the last days of 1812 the eyes of all German patriots were fixed
longingly and hopefully upon that lonely rock in the North Sea. It
was British territory--the first advance which England had made to
the shores of suffering Germany, and, her proud flag waving over it,
made it the asylum of persecuted patriots and members of the secret
leagues. To the red rock, in the midst of the sea, came no French
spies; there were no traitors' ears, for the pilot at the light-
house kept a good lookout, and no suspicious ship was permitted to
anchor; no one was allowed to land without having given a good
account of himself, and satisfying the authorities that confidence
might be reposed in him. Those allowed to disembark were heartily
welcomed, for, by setting foot on the rocky island, they had become
members of the vast family of Napoleon's enemies--of the brethren
who had united against his power--of the conspirators whose sworn
duty it was to oppose Napoleon with the weapons of cunning as well
as force--of intrigue creeping in the dark, or of brave and manly
defiance.
In Helgoland the swarms of smugglers sheltered, who had taken upon
themselves the risk of trading English goods, against which
Napoleon's hatred tried to shut the entire continent. There came the
crowd of foreign merchants, to purchase of English dealers the goods
which Napoleon's decrees had prohibited in his own dominions, as
well as in those of his allies.
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