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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."

Richard replied, "How strange it is that you should be thinking of mother at this moment; for I was thinking of her at the same time.

"Ah, father, when mother asked for water from her spring, and I ran through the village down into the valley, and was nothing but a child running to fetch a draught that would cool her parched lips and, perhaps, save her, I could not, at times, help thinking of the story told by Apuleius-how Psyche was obliged to bring water from the rocky springs of the Styx.

"And, father, hard and puzzling as it then was to understand how trees and houses could exist, and that men were working in the fields, while the breath of life was flickering and expiring-now, all is clear to my vision. I shall go off with the army; and if I can do nothing more, I will, at all events, endeavor to refresh the spiritual and physical wants of the children of the Fatherland for the sake of our mother-unity. It would be glorious and happy to die when filled with such emotions; but it is more genuine and more brave to persevere in small services and sacrifices."

Annette, with her hands clasped upon her breast, gazed at Richard. Bertha entered the room at that moment, and, by her presence, brought about a calmer and serener atmosphere than we had just been moving in.

Bertha, four years before, had been full of unrest; but now, her calm, equable disposition manifested itself in all its beauty.

"That war," she said, "was an unnatural one, but this contest is waged in a holy and just cause, and its consequences must therefore be calmly accepted. And things, too, have changed with my husband; for now fortune smiles upon him."

She told us that an association had been formed under the auspices of the Princess, for the purpose of aiding the families of those who were obliged to go to the war, and to prepare aid for the sick and wounded.

"I shall be one of you," exclaimed Annette. "I, too, wish to do my share in the good work. And, Professor, I shall remember your words, 'It is braver to persevere in small services and sacrifices.'"

Richard soon left for the university town, where he had yet to make some preparations before starting with the army. He grasped Annette's hand, and it seemed to me as if he held it longer than usual; but he only said, "We shall meet again."

His long face, with its large, full brown beard, bright blue eyes, and arched forehead, seemed more beautiful than ever, and his splendid, powerful form seemed almost heroic.

In the evening I was crossing our principal street, and met Annette carrying several packages under her arm.

War kills one weakness which in men is insufferable, and in women difficult to bear; namely, false pride.

In such times, who can stop to think how he may appear to others? You are nothing more than a wonderfully small fraction of a great and complete whole. And it is this idea which makes you great, and lifts you above all petty thoughts.

How absurd we had grown to be. It had come to be regarded as improper for a well-dressed man or woman to carry a package while in the street; the dress of the ladies was so fashioned that they were obliged to use their hands to prevent it from dragging, and thus it was impossible for them to carry even the smallest package; but now all that was changed.

Annette told me that she and some other ladies were about to take a course of instruction from a surgeon, in the art of dressing wounds. She said this simply and unostentatiously.

CHAPTER VIII

While Martella and I were on our way to the depot, in order to return to our home, we were encountered by a dense and impenetrable crowd.

What could be the matter?

"The Crown-Prince of Prussia is coming."

We stopped.

The sounds of distant music were heard mingling with the joyous shouts of thousands of voices. It was the cry with which a race welcomed its brothers from whom it had long been estranged, and who were now advancing to save it. How this must have stirred the heart of the Crown-Prince!

I was so wedged in by the crowd, that I could see nothing. Martella had ascended some steps back of me, and called me to follow her; but it was impossible to do so.

I heard a carriage approach; the men who were in front of me spoke of the splendid appearance, and the calm, yet determined expression of the Prince.

"Father!" exclaimed Martella, "he looks just like him-indeed, more like Richard."

The crowd at last scattered, and cheers were still heard in the distance.

We started for home. The railway on the other side, which for some distance ran into our valley, was obstructed. They were momentarily expecting an invasion of the French, and, after that day, the other line was only to be used for military trains.

We rode on for a part of the way, and, at the intersection, met a large crowd of persons from the watering-places. They had suddenly been obliged to give up the springs and the amusements that had there been at their disposal.

The gambling banks are closed, it was said. I hoped that they might never again be reopened.

Ludwig and his servants were there awaiting me. I also met Carl, who had been conscripted, and with him were two of the meadow-farmer's servants.

Carl laughed while he told us how the meadow-farmer grumbled that he was now obliged to harness and feed his oxen himself. He cheerfully added that Marie could do the service of two laborers.

His joyous face made it plain that before leaving home he had come to an understanding with Marie. When he spoke of her he pressed his left hand to his heart. I think he must have had a keepsake there.

When Carl saw Ikwarte, he went up to him and extended his hand saying: "I forgive you. I cannot remain at enmity with any one whom I leave behind when I go forth to battle. Forgive me, too."

Ludwig asked Ikwarte, "Willem, would you like to go?"

"I am waiting until the Colonel gives me leave."

"You have never asked my permission."

"I have waited until the Colonel would speak of it himself."

"Pray speak a few kind words to my mother, for my sake," said Carl; and I saw the old spinner sitting on the lower step of the depot. She gazed into vacancy as if she were dreaming with open eyes.

"This gentleman will take you home with him," said Carl to his mother.

"Then you will not take me along? I must go home-home-home," said the old woman; and Carl told me that Rothfuss had brought the conscripts to this spot, and was in a neighboring inn where he was feeding the horses.

I endeavored to persuade the spinner to control her feelings. She murmured a few words that I could not understand, and which Carl explained to me. She had, by hard savings, gotten seven thalers together, and wanted Carl to take them with him, because he would need them while away; and that now she was quite inconsolable, because he wanted to leave the money at home with her.

I took the money from her, and promised to send it to Carl whenever he should need it, through my son-in-law the Colonel.

"And how is the great lady?" said the old spinner. "She ought to have married my Carl-she always looked at him with so much favor; and if he were now married, he would not have to go to war."

His mother's words were unintelligible to me, and it was with a sad smile that Carl interpreted them.

"Why have you not told her about Marie?"

"I have done so, but she wishes to know nothing about her."

Ludwig, accompanied by Ikwarte, started towards the Rhine. He said that he did not yet know how he could take part in the war, as he was an American citizen; but he was resolved not to remain a quiet spectator.

Carl's parting from his mother was heart-rending. She refused to get on our wagon, and Carl, with tears in his eyes, lifted her in his arms and placed her there. During the greater part of our journey home, she bewailed the loss of her son, and we drove on in silence, for we felt so sad that we could not utter a word.

Martella was the first to speak, saying, "It is, after all, the greatest happiness to have a mother."

I could well understand what it was that agitated her.

Up at the top of the mountain, where we always stopped to rest our horses, there is a large and shady beech-tree, to which was fastened the image of a saint.

While at a distance I could see a white object on the tree, and when I drew near, I recognized it. It was the proclamation of the King of Prussia, in which, in simple but well-considered words, he declared that he was forced into waging this war.

Soon after that, I met Joseph, who was delighted to see me again. He had engaged the guard of the stage-coach that passed by there every day to fasten the "extra" papers to the tree, so that the forest laborers, who at this point separated in order to repair to their different villages, could know what was going on.

On the following day, the young Catholic pastor of the village had the words of the heretical king removed from the tree on which the holy image had been placed, and was about to lodge a complaint against Joseph for his sacrilegious conduct. But, on the advice of a lawyer who belonged to his own party, he desisted, and the tree, to this day, is known as "the newspaper tree."

I crossed the boundary line and was in our own territory. The people were busily employed in changing the bed of the stream; and the newly married stone-mason asked me whether work would be continued during the war. I told him that it would be, and that we intended to give employment to the people as long as possible.

Shortly after that, I even employed the old spinner's two sons who had been ordered out of Mühlhausen; and it was a very happy thought to do so, as the younger of the two was an excellent cabinet-maker.

I walked on. All along the roadside I had planted pear-trees; they were laden with fruit. Will the enemy pluck the fruit or destroy the trees?

I saw the young meadow-farmer. He was setting his water-gates, and appeared as unconcerned as if we were living in peaceful times. When I passed, he looked up from his work, and said, "The war does not affect me, thank God. None of my kindred are in it."

The first house in the village belongs to the meadow-farmer. He had relinquished the farm to his son, and was now living on a pension which the latter had settled on him. When he saw me, he called out, "Now you have it! The accursed Prussian is at the root of the whole affair; but the Frenchman will give him a beating, for he has caught hold of the wrong fellow this time."

At home all were in good spirits, and for the first time in a long while, I found myself in some sort of sympathy with Johanna.

"It will soon be seen," she said, "whether the godless Frenchmen are as willing to sacrifice themselves for their country as we are."

She praised the King as a God-fearing man; but to me he was simply a righteous German.

A happy change had taken place with Johanna's daughter. She had always been sickly, and had thought herself of no use in this world; but now she knew nothing more of sickness. She had determined to join a society which had just been organized by the wife of the Privy Councillor, in order to obtain instruction in the art of nursing the sick and wounded.

I was now again in my own calm and peaceful home. Rothfuss informed me that during my absence parties had been there to buy up oats and hay, – we still had a good supply left from last year, – and Rothfuss had promised the refusal of it to Kuhherschel, whom he always favored.

The old hay was sent off, and the new was brought in. In Carl's place we engaged a Tyrolese farmer. The early barley was harvested, the ground was ploughed over again, and the potatoes were dug up. How long would affairs remain thus? The enemy might break in on us the very next day, as we were very near the border. Our enemies claimed that they were fighting in the interests of civilization, but sent Asiatic hordes against us.

The schoolmaster's wife told us that Baroness Arven had left for Switzerland, taking a great amount of luggage with her.

I was determined to await the enemy in my own home, and when Johanna asked me whether she, too, could go to the city and try to be of some use, I consented.

"But you will remain with me, Martella, for you do not fear the French?"

"Oh, I am not afraid of them," answered Martella.

She had only answered the latter portion of my question, but I did not think of that until afterwards.