Waldfried: A Novel

CHAPTER V

The Colonel came and told me that the troops were under orders.

I was startled. I shuddered at the idea of using force against our fellow-citizens, and felt as if I could by my own strength, oppose and conquer the demon of dissension. I felt assured that I must succeed, and as confident as if success had already been achieved.

Ludwig accompanied me through the streets; they were even more crowded than on the day before.

Annette and Martella had preceded us, in order to secure good seats. It was with difficulty that we forced our way through the crowd. Ludwig was obliged to shake hands with many whom we met, and was often greeted by men whom he did not recognize, and who seemed annoyed that, in spite of the changes that twenty-one years had made in them, he did not at once address them by their names.

A company of soldiers were mounting guard before, the House of Parliament. Ernst Rontheim, son of the Privy Councillor, was in command. He saluted me in military fashion.

I gazed upon the vigorous youth, with his ruddy face and bright eyes, and asked myself: "Will he this very day be forced to command his troops to fire upon his fellow-citizens?" Did he know how full of danger his post was? It required a great effort, on my part, to refrain from speaking to him. At that moment, the minister of war arrived, and the young officer called out, "Present arms!"

In the ante-chamber, and in the restaurant attached to the House, there were many groups engaged in lively and animated discussions, in which the speakers accompanied their remarks by forcible gesticulations.

The three members who had been fellow-prisoners o f mine at the fortress, were still faithfully attached to me. The one whom we had termed "The Philosopher" had distinguished himself by new theories in political science, and the other two were eminent lawyers.

Only one of the members of the old student corps had gone over to the radicals, but he was recognized as the most independent and the purest of men, and was everywhere spoken of as "Cato."

The others had remained true to our colors; and one who was known as Baribal called out "What! Bismarck? If that black devil will bring about union, I shall sell my soul to him!"

I spoke with "Cato," when no others were by, and he frankly confessed that he feared that this war would strengthen monarchism, and that, therefore, he still was, and ever would be, a republican.

"We have, thus far, been forced to act against our wishes, and have complained in secret," he said, "but if we conquer in this war, we shall have voluntarily become subjects, and be happy in the favor of their high mightinesses. I am not a subject, and do not wish to become one."

He gave me a fierce look, and I felt obliged to tell him that he could not be at his ease while receiving honors from people whom he despised.

He did not feel that war was inevitable, but was inclined to favor it, if the German princes would promise that the constitution of the German Empire, as proposed in the Frankfort Parliament, would be adopted in the event of our success.

"Cato" assured me that even if we were to bring about a union, it would be such only in name. Organic life cannot become a harmonious whole unless there is freedom of action; and therefore, we must, first of all, insist on guarantees for freedom.

"Why do you," said he in conclusion, "who aided and abetted the Frankfort Parliament, never mention it?"

When I told him that this was political orthodoxy, he paid no regard to what I said.

Funk once furtively looked towards me, and then turned to his neighbor, with whom he conversed in a low voice.

Various members who, it was evident, desired to take the lead, were walking up and down absorbed in thought.

I heard that telegrams had been received to the effect that France would not consent to further delay, and insisted that all must be absolutely neutral or else avowedly take sides.

Loedinger, my former prison-mate, approached me and said that it would be necessary to prevent any conclusion being reached on that day, and that we should govern ourselves by the course that the neighboring state decided upon.

I asked him whether the party had determined on this. He said, "No," and told me that his only object was to bring about a postponement in case the probable issue seemed adverse to us.

I felt that this would be impossible. I entered the chamber more agitated than I have ever been. I had never in all my life been obliged to conceal anything, and now I had to face my associates with a weighty secret on my mind. I saw the ministers enter and take their seats, and could not help thinking, "You will soon be seated there."

One minister whom we knew to be of our party came down to where I was sitting and shook hands with me. He spoke with confidence and hopefulness.

I noticed Funk pointing at me, and could hear the loud laughter that followed on the part of the group that surrounded him.

The President took his seat; the ringing of the bell agitated me; the decisive moment approached.

I looked up. Annette nodded to me. Richard was seated at her side.

I was obliged to drive out all roving thoughts, for it was now necessary to concentrate all my energies on one object.

The proceedings began. My friend Loedinger, who had been seated at my side, was the first speaker, and supported the motion in favor of taking the field. He spoke with great fervor, and invoked the spirits of those who had gone before us.

"Would that the mighty spirits of the past could descend to us this day," were his words, while his own utterances were those of a spirit pure and beyond reproach. When he finished his remarks, a storm of applause followed. I grasped his hand; it was cold as ice.

Funk requested the President to preserve order in the galleries, and said that this was not a Turners' festival.

The President reminded him that he knew his duty, and meant to perform it, and that Funk, in his eagerness, had only anticipated him.

The next speaker was "Cato." He unearthed all the grievances that Prussia had inflicted on the patriots. He called on the spirits of those who had fallen during the war of 1866, and said they might well ask those who now counselled aiding Prussia, "Are you willing to stand side by side with those who murdered us in a fratricidal war?"

When he closed, it was evident that his words had deeply moved the assembly.

I was the next to have the floor, and explained that, although brothers may quarrel among themselves, they are brethren nevertheless, and that, when an insolent neighbor endeavors to invade and destroy their home, they must unite to defend it. Addressing my opponents, I exclaimed, "You know full well what the decision will be, and I am loth to believe that you desire to embarrass or disgrace it by opposition and dissension."

Great excitement followed this remark, and prevented me from going on. I was called to order, but the President decided that my remarks had not been personal.

I endeavored to keep calm, and to weigh every word before uttering it.

In spite of this resolution, I forgot myself, and aroused a perfect storm of anger, when I expressed my deepest convictions in the following words:

"You who are seated on the other side do not believe in neutrality. Ask yourselves whether this be an honest game that you are playing. Neutrality is a hypocritical word which, translated into honest German, means willingness to aid France, a Rhenish confederation, and treason to the Fatherland!"

I was called to order and was obliged to admit that I had gone a little too far.

The President interrupted the debate, and inquired whether the Chamber would permit him to read a telegram which had just been received, and was of some importance in relation to the subject under consideration.

"No! No!" "We are debating this among ourselves!" "Our deliberations must be free and untrammelled!" "No outside parties have a right to interfere!" cried the one side.

"Yes! Yes!" "Let us have it!" "Read it to us!" cried the others, and all was confusion.

The President at last restored order, and then informed us that the telegram was from the House of Parliament of the neighboring state. He desired to know whether he might read it to the assembly. He would permit no debate on the subject; those who were in favor of the reading, would simply rise.

The majority arose, and Loedinger was almost trembling with emotion when he grasped my hand and said, "Brother, the day is ours!"

The President read the telegram. It was to the effect that a small though decided majority of the Parliament of the next state had determined that their forces should take the field.

Then followed, both on the floor and in the galleries, a few moments of terrible confusion and excitement.

Order was at last restored, and the President announced that the business would now be proceeded with.

I had the floor.

"Make no speech-ask for a vote at once," said Loedinger, as I arose. I acted on his advice.

The vote was taken; the majority was ours.

Loud shouts of joy filled the air, but I felt happier than all the rest. I had been saved from a fearful danger.

Annette's carriage stood in a by-street, awaiting us. We rode to our dwelling, and, when I reached there, I felt like one who, after long and weary wandering over hill and dale, can at last sit down and rest. And while I sat there, with myriad thoughts passing through my brain, I could not help thinking, "The dream of my youth has repeated itself-they only tried the mantle on me."

Shortly after that, Ludwig returned home to join his wife and to look after his workmen.

CHAPTER VI

How often we had yearned for unity of feeling, and an interchange of sympathy with our compatriots! How sad it was to keep in our path with the knowledge that the feelings and aspirations of those whom we met had nothing in common with our own!

The unity of feeling had at last been brought about. Every street had become as a hall of the great temple in which love of country testified its readiness to sacrifice itself. Every valley resounded with the joyful message, "Awake! Our Fatherland has arisen in its might! Hasten! for the battle is not yet over. The soul of him who falls will live on in the comrade who marched at his side. Now none can live for himself alone, but for the one great cause."

After my sad bereavement, life had ceased to be aught but duty, and I would have been ready, at any time, calmly to leave the world. But now my only desire was to live long enough to witness the fruition of the hopes which, during my whole life, had filled my soul.

My children and grandchildren, each in his own way, showed their love of country.

Society at large was now like one great family, united in sentiment.

The vicar was the first of my family to visit me. He came to offer his services as chaplain to the troops. Julius followed soon after. It had gone hard with him to leave his wife, but he was happy to know that he could at last serve his country. It moved me deeply when he told me of the courage and resignation his wife had shown at parting. He was accompanied by his brother-in-law, the lieutenant, who joyously confessed that he was filled with hopes of glory and rapid advancement. He drew his sword a few inches from its scabbard, and said, "This blade has lost patience-it is all athirst."

My grandson Wolfgang returned from the forester's school.

"Grandfather, have my pine-seeds sprouted?" was his first question.

"They do not grow so fast, my child; the bed is still covered with brushwood."

He wanted to enter the army as a volunteer, and was quite sad when we told him that foreigners would not be accepted, and that it would, moreover, take a good while before he could learn the drill. He could with difficulty reconcile himself to the fact that he was not permitted to take part in the war, and with a voice full of emotion, exclaimed, "Although my name is growing on its soil, I am not allowed to fight for Germany!"

Wolfgang was accompanied by Annette's nephew, the son of Offenheimer the lawyer. He desired to offer his services as a volunteer. He was a comrade of Wolfgang's, and a student in the agricultural department of the forester's school. His face was marked by several scars, and although he was not of a quarrelsome disposition, he had been in several duels. He had served in the Young Guard, which, during the past few years, had been recruited from the students of Gymnasiums and polytechnic schools.

I inquired whether his father consented to his entering the service, and he answered me in the affirmative.

Shortly afterward, his father entered the room. In a few words he told us that he had expected this war, and then, turning to his sister, he remarked that his son Alfred had entered the regiment which had formerly been the Captain's, as Colonel Karsten could not take him in his regiment. He also told me that he had fully determined, in case the war resulted in our favor, to withdraw from practice, and to devote himself to public affairs.

Offenheimer was an able, clear-minded man, of liberal opinions, and free from prejudice; and yet it seemed as if this vow of his had been made in order to assure himself of the success of our cause and the preservation of his only son.

Annette had always observed a certain distance with her kindred, and was, indeed, kinder to Martella than to her own nephew. But now, the war and the unanimity of feeling which it had induced, seemed, even in her case, to awaken new sympathies.

On the following morning, when I was preparing for my journey homeward, a messenger came from the palace to inform me that the Prince required my presence. And now I went, in bright daylight and with a peaceful soul, to the same place that I had approached during the night, ignorant of what was in store for me. I was happy to know that the serious charge, which I was hardly fitted to undertake, had not been imposed on me, and I was, at the same time, encouraged by the feeling that I had shown my willingness to do all in my power.

On the staircase, I met the French ambassador, who had just received his parting audience; and thus I saw the last French ambassador who witnessed our dissensions.

The antechamber of the Prince's apartments was full of life and bustle. Adjutants and orderlies were constantly coming and going.

I saw my son-in-law, but only for a few moments. He shook me by the hand, and said, "My regiment marches through your valley; I shall see you again at home."

I was called into the Prince's presence. His cheeks were flushed and his eye sparkled. He took me by the hand and said: "I can only briefly thank you. I shall never forget your fidelity and your candor. Unfortunately, I can be of no service to you, for you need no favors; but my heart shall ever be filled with gratitude to you."

His kind words so moved me that I was unable to utter a word in reply, and the Prince continued: "Like you, I am forced to remain at home. It is well and proper that princely rank does not require its possessor to command his armies. Leaders have been selected, from whom we have a right to look for the greatest results with the least bloodshed. Excuse me; I regret that I cannot speak with you any longer. I shall be glad to have you visit me soon again."

He shook hands with me again, and I was about to withdraw in silence, when a lackey entered and said that a daughter of mine had requested to see the Prince, and begged that she might speak with me in his presence.

"Let her enter. You had better remain here, Herr Waldfried."

CHAPTER VII

The door was opened and in rushed Martella, who threw herself on her knees at the Prince's feet and exclaimed: "Your Highness, Prince by the grace of God, be gracious and merciful! Give me my betrothed, my Ernst! I shall not rise from this spot until you have restored him to me again!"

The Prince gazed at me in surprise, and I told him that this was Ernst's betrothed.

The Prince extended his hand to Martella. She kissed it and covered it with tears, when he said to her:

"I shall do all that I can."

"Oh, God is gracious to you! you are all-powerful. O how happy you are that you can do all these things! I knew it!"

The Prince said that he was occupied at the moment; that she might go, and he would attend to all that was necessary afterwards.

"No, no!" cried Martella; "not so. I shall not leave in that way. Now is the right time. Let the whole world wait until this is done."

"I have already informed his father that the deserter will receive but a mild punishment, if he now returns and helps us to fight for our Fatherland."

"Yes, yes; I believe all that; but I must have it in writing, with a great seal under it, or else it is of no avail, and your subordinates will not respect it.

"O Prince! the winter before the fearful war you were hunting in the district to which my Ernst belonged, and he had much to tell me about you; and he said that, if one considered how you had been spoiled, it was wonderful to find our Prince so well behaved, so just and upright a man.

"And Rothfuss said, 'In such a war as that of 1866, the Prince would have been just as willing to desert as Ernst was, if he only could have done so; but he could not get away.'"

The Prince gave me a look full of meaning, while a sad smile played on his lips. Suddenly he turned to Martella and asked, "And do you know where your lover is?"

"Yes; he is with the savages in Algiers. He, too, was a savage, but, by this time, he must have become tamed. O Prince! give me the writing, and what you write will be set down to your credit in heaven!"

The Prince seated himself, and then looked up from his desk and asked, "But what will you do with this letter of pardon?"

"Let your gracious Highness leave that to me. Just you write-and blessed be the pen and the ink and your hand-"

I implored her to remain quiet, so that the Prince could write, and she grasped my hand with one of hers, and with her other pointed towards the Prince's pen and moved her finger as if following its every stroke.

When the Prince bad finished writing, he lit a lamp, and Martella exclaimed: "Oh, if Ernst were only here, that he might thank you! But mother, who is above, knows of this already, and joins me in thanking you."

Her vigor and beauty, her touching voice, the powerful and dazzling brilliancy of her eyes, all seemed as if increased by an irresistible charm.

The Prince attached the seal to the document and handed it to her with the words, "I wish you success;" and, turning to me, added, "I am glad, at all events, that I have been able to be of some service to you."

Martella was about to kneel to him again, but he begged her to withdraw.

We went through the antechamber and down the steps, and, when we reached the foot of the staircase, Martella suddenly stopped and said: "I have something in which I can keep the letter of pardon. I still have the embroidered satchel, but now I will put in it something better and sweeter than the cake it once held."

When we left, the guard was just marching up to the palace, and the band was playing "Die Wacht am Rhein." A crowd extending farther than the eye could reach joined in the song, and Martella exclaimed, "The whole world is singing while-" and then her clear voice helped to swell the chorus.

No one was happier at Martella's good fortune than Annette, who, to give vent to her joy, overwhelmed Martella with presents.

Richard rushed into the room, exclaiming, "The Crown-Prince of Prussia has been appointed commander of the South German forces!" His face beamed with emotion, and he triumphantly declared that this would seal the union of North and South Germany.

Although the younger members of my family were full of ardent courage, Richard had more determination and elasticity of spirit than any of them. We had at one time mockingly called him "Old Negligence." But he was no longer the man who procrastinated in all things, and who, while conscientious withal, was nevertheless so swayed by a thousand imaginary obstacles that it was difficult for him to make up his mind on any subject. He told us that he had offered to accompany the commander of our army; he had written enough of history in dead letters, and now he was anxious to witness living history, and perhaps to assist in making it.

Annette had ordered the servant to bring wine, and Richard exclaimed: "O father! it has come at last. Self-reliance now fills every heart, and that is the rock of safety for the whole nation. I see it now; a new element has entered our German world-a feeling that we are all one. It is not a mere conglomerate of many thousand individuals; it is something quite new and exalted-a divine revelation-the fire of pure patriotism. We stand in the midst of a pillar of fire; every individual is a spark; of no value by itself, but only as a portion of the pillar of fire."

Richard's tall and commanding form trembled with emotion.

Annette placed her hand upon her heart and exclaimed, "And I too-I too."

She had stretched forth her hand, but suddenly cast her eyes upon the picture of her dead husband, and buried her face in her hands.

After a short pause, she said to Richard:

"Your mother announced this to me. 'He will live to see the day,' she said, 'on which great things will happen to the world and to you all.' I did not understand her words then, but now I believe I understand them."