by Gregory Kopp
AN IMMIGRANT AMERICAN
KOPP CHRONICLES
By Gregory Kopp
Copyright © 2016 Gregory Kopp
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13:978-1537220574
ISBN-10:1537220578
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Afterword
Appendix One – Stanislaus’s birth
Appendix Two – Stanislaus’s mother
Appendix Three – Stanislaus’s grand parents
Appendix Four – Stanislaus’s residence in Baden
Appendix Five – Stanislaus’s emigration
Appendix Six – Stanislaus’s arrival in America
Appendix Seven – Historical information
Appendix Eight – Barque Maria Theresia
Chapter One
“Raus! Raus!” He heard shouting and pounding on his heavy oaken front door. It was the middle of a cold and snowy night in January, 1853 at 25 Amalienstrasse, in the city of Karlsruhe, capital of the Grand Duchy of Baden. A tall lanky young man leapt out of the bed he shared with his wife and small child and opened the door and saw the soldier dressed in a Prussian uniform, holding a sword in one hand and a lantern in the other. It was his old friend Johannes whom he marched with just 3 years before during the 1848-49 revolution.
“What is wrong Johannes?” he asked.
“You and your family have to leave your home,” Johannes stated. His eyes were cold and barely registered any emotion. “By order of the Grand Duke you must leave!” he continued.
“How? Where do we go in the middle of winter?” Stanislaus asked, in shock and surprise.
Johannes replied, “There will be a convoy to the train station and a government train leaving for Antwerp, in the morning. From there you will be given passage on a ship for America and you must never return. You and your family better be with the convoy or you will be arrested. Now hurry and get packing,” he growled.
“What will we do for food or shelter in the middle of winter in a strange city?” Stanislaus asked himself. He had suddenly grasped the meaning of the soldier’s words.
His name was Stanislaus Kopp and he also went by his middle name “Nicholas” which his mother preferred. He was tall and lanky and muscles rippled under his shirt from his work as a stonemason. It looked like his jet black hair was already sprinkled with flecks of gray even though he was only 27, however these were actually highlights, a result of the years he spent working outside in the sun. His nose was prominent, a “Roman” nose they said, and he had wondered if he really was descended from those ancient occupying armies. He was the only son of the unmarried Apollonia. His mother never did tell him who his father was and she had died almost 10 years before. He had no other living immediate family.
The Grand Duke of Baden was dead and his sons were fighting over the throne. The Grand Duke's heir, his oldest son, Ludwig, suffered from a mental illness and the ruling nobles wanted his brother Frederick to rule as Regent in his place. The Prussian troops called in to quell the revolution during the past year were making themselves at home in the Duchy and did not seem included to leave any time soon. As a result, it was getting harder and harder to walk down the streets of the capital without being harassed or bullied by Prussian soldiers.
Stanislaus shook his head. It was the middle of the night and both of his children were ill. In fact, it was one of the coldest Januarys he could remember. Illness was spreading quickly in his small local community. Children’s coughing was heard in almost every house on his street. The sparsely decorated evergreen Christmas trees were still standing in the corner of almost every home. He did not have the time to take his tree down yet as he had been helping his wife care for their ill children.
Christmas presents had also been sparse this year. Stanislaus had struggled to find temporary jobs in the capital but new building construction was on hold until the issue of who would rule the Duchy was resolved. The winter of 1852-1853 was long, cold and dreadful.
“Only take the things you can carry,” the soldier stated and awakened Stanislaus from his daze. “Now hurry and get packing," the soldier repeated. Johannes took one last look at the inside of the home of his former friend. He saw how sparse and threadbare the furnishings in the home had become since he had been here last, many years before. Johannes knew that most of the furnishings had been sold to pay for food or clothes for the children. The soldier turned and left. He was in a hurry as he needed to pound on many more doors and tell the occupants that they needed to leave. He had marched with many of these same people during the glorious days of the revolution but now they seemed defeated and pitiful. “It was going to be a long and cold night before he can return to his warm hearth,” he thought. As the soldier turned to go, he saw the faded revolutionary poster from so long ago attached to the old wooden fence next to the house. The poster contained the black-red-gold tri color flag of the German Republic and encouraged all to come and march. He grimaced and took a swipe of his sword and the poster was cut in two and fluttered to the ground.
Meanwhile, Stanislaus’s wife was soothing the two children, boys aged one and two. She was quietly singing a lullaby that was becoming popular in the capital. “Sleep, my child don’t cry, the Prussians going by,” she sang until the children both fell back to sleep.
Stanislaus looked out the door as the soldier left. It was bitter cold and snow began to hit his face. He turned up the collar of his night shirt and shivered. Looking down the cobblestone street he saw Prussian soldiers carrying lanterns and swords. Several of his neighbors were also standing outside in the cold. Their faces were in shock as they too could not believe what they had been told. Most of the men he saw were also craftsmen like him.
The Prussian soldiers were hurrying down the street pounding on the front door of each of the houses. One man refused to open his door and the soldiers kicked the door open. The man in the home was hiding in the corner as his wife and children watched in horror. The soldiers shouted out that the family had to leave and the man just whimpered. A disgusted soldier turned to go but whirled and cut the man down with his sword. The man's wife and children screamed. “Revolutionary cowards”, the Prussian soldier muttered to himself, and stormed out.
Stanislaus and his wife packed as many of their belongings they could carry with two hands. He packed warm clothes, some blankets, and grabbed the family bible. His wife reacted more quickly than he did. She rushed into the alcove that was the bedroom she shared with her husband and youngest child and took out a yellowed piece of parchment. She quickly wrote a letter to a family member that had immigrated to America several years before. She believed that they had settled in someplace called Ohio but was not sure. She addressed the letter in care of the postmaster in a place she remembered called Cincinnati. She sealed the letter with candle wax and planned to give the letter to the local priest from St. Stephens’s church and beg him to send it on his way. She hoped there was regular mail delivery service between the church in Karlsruhe and the papal city of Rome and then on to America. She prayed the letter would be forwarded to its destination.
His wife was a beautiful woman with brown eyes and hair. Her name was Karolina and she had already given birth to two children during their short marriage. The second child she bore just last year had weakened her and she was still recovering her strength.
Chapter Two
The next day dawned bright and cold. Groups of people gathered in the street loading hand pull carts with belongings. Stanislaus and his family hurried to join the convoy that was gathering at the end of the street. He placed
his children on top of the nearest cart next to an old woman who was barely able to walk. They placed blankets over their heads to keep out the cold and snow. Prussian soldiers on horseback with swords and soldiers on foot raised their weapons and pointed towards the end of the street and shouted, “March”.
Karolina was carrying a heavy bag filled with their belongings and some food. Stanislaus loaded the bag onto the cart and took his place next to his wife and began walking with the rest of the convoy. They knew they had a long march ahead of them to the Karlsruhe train station. "Please Lord, help us survive this journey," he prayed as he looked at his wife and children.
As the group walked past St. Stephen’s cathedral, Karolina saw a priest standing in the doorway. She rushed toward the priest, pressed the letter into his hand and said, “Father, please send this to America for us. I know you can do it. Please, Father”. She looked at him with tears in her eyes and he nodded slowly.
A Prussian soldier on horseback rode up to her and shouted, “Get back in line! Now!” She returned to her place in the convoy next to her husband and children. Stanislaus held her hand and squeezed it tightly. The old woman walking next to them stumbled to the ground and a man helped her up.
Unlike the march from 3 years ago, there would be no singing, shouting and waving of tri-color flags. This would be a slow march to the Karlsruhe train station and then boarding a train to a foreign country from which they could never return. Quite a few of his fellow marchers had tears in their eyes as they grimly marched. He took one last look at the home he had built with his own hands and turned away. The Prussian soldiers were already looting the rest of their belongings and throwing anything without value into bonfires up and down the street. He sighed and wondered how these things could have happened. The memories came flooding back as he walked.
Three years before he had been walking with his friend Johannes down the exact same street. It was springtime and the flowers in the gardens were starting to bloom. There was a break in his work for the day and he fully intended to spend as much time walking the streets of the capital city of Karlsruhe and enjoying the warm sun before going back to work. His friend Johannes was a soldier on leave from the Grand Duke's army and was killing time. Stanislaus was hoping he would also run into the pretty brown haired girl he had seen yesterday in the park.
“Come on, Stan,” his friend had cried. “Let’s go and hear what the old men are saying”. They were walking past the gymnasium and had seen a poster asking all available citizens to come inside and listen to a talk about a new united German Republic. The poster’s wording seemed interesting and his friend wanted to go inside and hear what they were saying. He had heard about a group of marchers consisting of workingmen and old soldiers that had started out from Konstanz but had been stopped before they got to the capital. He also had heard about their leader, the crazy fellow, dressed as a pirate, who had shouted “Republic” from the balcony of the Konstanz city hall.
He heard that the protesters had been scattered and their leader escaped to Switzerland. He thought this was going to be a waste of time.
He walked through the doorway and entered the hall. It contained only a few old men and women. In the front of the hall stood a gray-haired man shouting, “We need one Germany. We need freedom of the press!” Standing next to the gray haired man was a fellow dressed in a soldier's uniform. He appeared to be listening to the old man shouting. The old man stopped shouting momentarily as Stan and his friend entered the hall. The old man motioned for them to come in and take a seat. The man dressed in the soldier’s uniform took a long stare at them and said nothing. It turned out, his name was Franz Sigil and he had retired from the Grand Duke’s army after being wounded in a duel. He was soon to become the leader of the revolutionary army and evidently was in the meeting doing some recruiting. He noticed how tall and muscular Stanislaus appeared and made a mental note to contact him after the meeting had ended.
When the meeting did end, the audience streamed out of the hall with a revolutionary fervor as they returned to their homes and places of work. Stanislaus and his friend Johannes were excited about what they had heard during the meeting. They both laughed as they walked home.
Chapter Three
Stanislaus saw the pretty brown haired girl again in the park the next day. She was walking alone enjoying the sun and warmth. Her face was radiant and glowing. He fell in love with her immediately. She stopped and turned and saw him and gave him a big smile. He was working on the building next to the park. He stopped and stared at her. He dropped his hammer and slowly walked over to where she was standing. They exchanged pleasantries, the weather, news and other small talk. He asked her name. “Karolina,” she said shyly. He replied that his name was “Stan” and they both laughed nervously. He asked where she lived. She pointed to a street corner and said she lived a few doors down from the corner. He said he lived on Amalienstrasse not far from where they were standing. He asked if he could come by this evening and visit. She said yes and turned away. He returned to his work, whistling softly under his breath.
They saw each other when they could, as they both worked at full time jobs that did not leave much time for socializing. They were soon engaged to be married and within months they were talking about having their first child. They lived quietly in a house he had built with his bare hands only a few doors down from where his mother had lived. Not soon after his engagement to Karolina, he received a visit from his friend Johannes. “Sigel needs us,” he said. “They are gathering to march against the Grand Duke and he needs everyone to come.”
Karolina looked at him in alarm. “When will you return?” she asked. He just shook his head and surveyed his tools. He didn’t know what he would need or how long he would be away. He heard a knocking on his door. He opened the door and saw a gentlemen standing there. He recognized him from the meeting he attended. It was Fran Sigel.
The man asked, “Can I come in? “
”Sure, sure. Come on in,” Stanislaus replied. Sigel took off his hat and stepped inside. The interior of the home was a mess, with tools laying here and there and rumpled clothing piled up in the corner. He bent down to pick up some clothing off the only chair in the room and beckoned for Sigel to sit down. “What I can do for you?” he said. Sigel took one look around the room and sat in the chair.
“I need your help,” Sigel said.
“What, how can I help?” Stanislaus asked.
Sigel spoke in low tones, “We are gathering an army to march on Karlsruhe. We have been watching what is taking place in Berlin and now it is our turn.”
“How can you gather an army with the Grand Dukes’ men watching you?” Stanislaus inquired.
Sigel said, “We are going from home to home on the pretense of visiting friends and making discrete inquiries. Now, will you help us?” Stanislaus’s mind whirled. He had just gotten a new job at the new building for the Grand Duke. Sigel stared at him. “It is now our turn to proclaim a Republic,” he said. “The Grand Duke is taking away our liberties, one by one. He is not listening to the Diet. He is ruling by executive order, openly defying the Diet. It is now our time to act.”
Stanislaus took one look around his home, and nodded, “yes,” he said.
“Good,” said Sigel and stood up to go. “We are gathering at the old farm house on the edge of the city. Meet us there tomorrow. Bring any type of weapon you can - hammer, rope, anything”. Sigel stepped out the front door and slammed it behind him. Stanislaus’s mind rushed, what was he going to tell his boss? He decided to just tell him he was ill. Secretly, he hoped the revolution would just go away, but outwardly he welcomed it. The next day, he gathered his tools including a hammer and knife, kissed his fiancé goodbye and hurried to the old farmhouse.
As he approached, he heard someone shouting his name. “Stan!” the man said. He turned and recognized his friend Johannes. He was wearing his old uniform from the Grand Duke’s army. “Wait for me,” he said and hurried to catch up. “I hear
d you were going to join us,” Johannes said. “Look at me. They are going to make me an officer!” And he pointed to a ribbon on his shoulder. “Sigel, said to wear a ribbon for that was the only way they were going to differentiate us officers from the regular army soldiers”. They walked together in silence, deep in thought as they came closer to the old farmhouse. As they approached, they saw several men standing in the yard carrying clubs, rakes, and other farm implements. Out of the corner of his eye, Stanislaus saw some other men at the side of the road watching them.
Both Stanislaus and Johannes went inside the farmhouse and found Sigel staring at a map on a table. He was standing next to the old man from the political rally and they were discussing an approach into the capital city. Sigel said, “We will gather the rest of our troops in Koblenz and then march into the city. We must hurry and strike while surprise is on our side.” The old man nodded and turned his head. He saw Stanislaus and Johannes staring at them and he coughed. Sigel turned around and smiled. “I told you they would come,” he said to the old man. “Fine, you are here,” Sigel said. “Now gather your weapons, and join the men outside.” Stanislaus and Johannes turned to go.
Stanislaus asked him, “Where are we going? Koblenz?”
Sigel did not answer but just said, “Now go,” and he turned back to the map. Stanislaus and Johannes both went back outside and joined the nearest group of men. They were sitting idly killing time. One man, spoke. “They talked you two into this,” he said, mockingly. Stanislaus and Johannes both nodded and sat on a nearby bench. “Well, I hope you brought some food, we’ll be marching to Koblenz and it is a long march,” the man said. Stanislaus realized he had not brought anything except for his tools and bag common to stone masons.
Johannes looked at Stanislaus and said, “Not to worry, Sigel will get food for us,” and he turned away and adjusted his ribbon on his uniform.
