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BOOK FIFTH

CHAPTER I

Trumpets sounded, drums rolled, and songs from thousands of voices were heard in the valley and on the hills. All was joyous commotion. Thus, singing, does a nation take the field for its protection and salvation.

In the midst of anxiety for great things, for one's country, we ought to be troubled by no mere personal cares. But who can avoid them? The general sorrow is infinitely divided, and every one must bear his share.

That my son-in-law, two grandchildren, and a faithful servant had gone to face the dangers of the battlefield, was a sorrow like that which many thousands besides myself had to bear. What a heavy burden is that borne by the lonely widow down by the rock! But the knowledge that one child is already in the whirlpool of trouble, and is dragging another after him-that has been given to me alone. How often it occurred to me at that time: had my wife but lived to see the uprising of our Fatherland! It was better thus. She was spared the sight of our youngest son enrolled in the enemy's ranks. That phrase from the Bible, which, when thinking of her, I had so often consoled myself with, remained true: "But for the elect those days shall be shortened." Why had Rautenkron, after keeping his story so long to himself, now divulged it? Had the secret become too burdensome? And why did he cast the load on me? Enough, I had to overcome it.

The presence of my son-in-law had given me new courage, and I agreed with Rothfuss, who said, "When the Colonel is about, every one is more erect in his movements. Yes, he commands even when he says nothing."

I had never seen the Colonel thus. Such joviality beamed from his face that a glance from him was strengthening and reassuring. His only fear was that a premature peace might be concluded with the insolent successor of the tyrant, before all was decided by battle!

Our village and the entire neighborhood were in commotion while the regiment was quartered there. They even constructed a redoubt on Silvertop.

My son-in-law confided to me that the redoubt was perhaps unnecessary, but that his men would lose their good qualities if allowed to lounge about idly; he also hoped that the news of their doings would spread across the Rhine.

The peasants became refractory, and appointed a deputation, and among them was their ruler, the meadow farmer. They said that they had not forgotten how dreadfully the French had behaved in 1796, on account of the building of a fortification in the neighborhood. But the Colonel announced that whoever opposed any military ordinance, would be brought before a court-martial and shot forthwith. From that moment my son-in-law received the name of "Colonel Forthwith." Several of the most notable farmers from the neighboring valley, earnest, patriotic men, led by the burgomaster of Kalkenbach, wanted me to help them to an interview with the colonel. They complained that a young lieutenant wanted to destroy the bridges over the creek, and that he was about to cast burning rosin and tar-barrels into the stream, without reflecting that he thereby ran the risk of setting fire to the whole valley.

The Colonel countermanded this at once. He sent small detachments hither and thither in all directions to build camp-fires on all the hills, leaving often only men enough about them to keep up the fires, which were visible from across the Rhine.

People were to be made to believe that a large army was collected here, and he therefore notified all the towns and villages lying far beyond our valley, of the fact that large numbers of soldiers would be quartered there. On the houses they would chalk the number of men and of horses that were to be provided for. To judge by appearances, it seemed as if hundreds of thousands were at hand.

The Colonel asked Rothfuss if he knew any French sympathizers. He evidently wished that the French should get the most alarming news from us. Rothfuss thought that Funk would be his man; but when my son-in-law consulted me about Funk, I dissuaded him from employing such an instrument. Rothfuss then brought us the news that a journeyman baker from Alsace, who had worked for Lerz, was prowling around and preparing to return home.

The Colonel got Rothfuss to carry the news to this journeyman, that more than a hundred thousand men were encamped in the forest. The few pieces of artillery under his command were constantly moved from place to place, so that all were led to suppose that he had a large number of guns.

The Colonel had orders, in case the enemy should advance on us, to destroy the roads; we supposed that Napoleon's plan must be to separate North and South Germany by a sudden invasion. This was no small matter: we were the first who would have to resist the shock of the enemy's advance, and, so far as I could learn, I felt that the main forces of Germany could not furnish us with immediate protection. We would be sacrificed first, and afterwards would be helped by an offensive movement from the Middle Rhine region.

Rautenkron received, provisionally, the uniform of a hospital steward; for the Colonel was waiting for permission to enroll him. I was present when he asked Rautenkron:

"Do you speak French well?"

"Perfectly."

The Colonel whispered something to him; but Rautenkron with burning cheeks, cried:

"I can never do that; never!"

He then talked confidentially and excitedly to the Colonel; I believe he imparted to him his real name.

The Colonel then ordered him, as he was so well acquainted with the wooded heights, to attend to the further extension of the camp-fires on their tops.

Conny carefully helped in attending to the wants of the numerous garrison. The soldiers were treated in the best manner by the villagers, all of whom were anxious to do their share in the good work.

The old meadow farmer was the only one who did not show himself. He, who was always either at his door or window, and who stopped every passer-by to have a chat which should drive dull care away, lay in his little back room and declared that he was ill.

Carl's mother, on the contrary, did not stay in her house for a minute. She would approach one group of soldiers after another, and ask each man if he had a mother at home. And then she would begin to talk of her Carl, how he was in the lancers, and how they could hunt through every regiment and not find a better or a handsomer fellow. The two sons, who were working as carpenters, had estranged themselves from their mother. They lived down in the valley, and did not even visit her on Sundays. They boasted in the taverns that they could sing French songs.

While all this bustle was going on, I was constantly searching for Martella.

Rothfuss was of opinion that she had escaped in male attire; for, wherever he asked after Lerz, the baker, – he had quickly lost all traces of him, however, – he was told of a young man that had been in his company, and who would never enter the room with him.

The Colonel had, of course, no time to sympathize with my concern about Martella, and once when I spoke of her he said:

"We should be glad to be thus rid of her. Such a creature does not, after all, belong in our family. You and mother have very likely been wasting all your kindness on an unworthy person."

I did not agree with him. Yes, now at last I could understand many things in Martella' s disposition that had heretofore been mysteries to me. But I dared not talk about them, and the time to mourn for a single grief had not arrived.

CHAPTER II

On the evening of the last day of July, the Colonel returned, heated from the effects of a long ride. A sharpshooter brought in a despatch. He opened it, and forthwith sent his adjutant off; then he asked me to have a good bottle of wine brought up, and to sit down beside him. He confided to me that his detachment was getting ready to march, that he would move off by daylight, and that he would leave but a few men behind to attend to the campfires. I became much moved on Bertha's account, and asked the Colonel whether he had any wishes which he desired to have attended to.

"No," answered he, "my will is in the hands of Herr Offenheimer, the lawyer. But the time is come for me to speak to you, dear father, of myself. Perhaps we shall never be together again. I do not wish to leave the world and not be really understood by you."

And so, leaning back in the large chair, he began in his peculiarly sonorous, firm voice: "I do not like to speak of myself. I have learned to move through life with closed lips. You are my father, and were my comrade in a bold and hazardous undertaking. I am your pupil, although you have shown great discretion in keeping everything from me which might interfere with the profession I was to follow. Without your knowing it, I developed at an early age. When crossing the prison yard as a boy, I often saw the brother of Bertha's mother leaning against the iron bars; The picture of this refined man, with his delicate features, his large eye, his white brow, and light beard, haunted me in my dreams. Do criminals look like that? I do not know whether my childish heart put that question, but I believe it did. I stood on the balcony as they carried his body away. I saw it placed on the wagon. At that moment a feeling awoke in me that there are other and higher objects in this world than princes, discipline, parole, epaulettes, and orders.

"On that same day, I heard, for the first time, the words, German unity. It became a sort of secret watchword for me; of that I am sure. My father spoke of the noble enthusiast; the post-adjutant called him a demagogue. I looked the word up in my Greek dictionary.

"I entered the military school. I learned about the Greek and Roman heroes; I heard of Socrates, and always pictured him to myself like the pale man behind the prison bars. I soon became reserved, and kept my thoughts to myself; outwardly I was obedient and punctilious. My father became commandant of the capital; as ensign, I was appointed as page to our Prince. I was present at the great festivities in honor of the sons of Louis Philippe, who were visiting our Court. I heard some one in the crowd say they were only princes of the revolution. I studied modern history in secret. The Opposition in our Parliament was also often discussed. I heard some names mentioned with derision and hate-yes, with scorn. These men were pointed out to me in the street. I did not understand how they could thus walk the streets, since they were in opposition to our Prince.

"The year 1848 came. The men that had been named with scorn became ministers of state; they were entitled the saviours of the Fatherland.

"On that 6th of August, on which we did homage to the regent Archduke John, I was as in a dream. The face of that man behind the prison bars accompanied me everywhere. That for which he suffered and died-had it not come? What are we soldiers? Are we nothing but the body-guard of the Prince? Against whom are we fighting?

"Soldiering does not allow of much thinking. In the spring of 1849 we took the field. The first order I gave was directed against the revolutionary volunteers; the first man I killed looked wonderfully like him who had been behind the bars. I tried to forget all this, and succeeded. Then I met you and Bertha.

"What has happened since, you know; what went on within me I will not bring to light.

"For a long time I have lived quietly, and have worked industriously. I desired, above all things, to be a good soldier; to be well grounded in my profession.

"I had asked for leave of absence to fight the Circassians; I wanted to see real war. Leave was not granted me, but I was appointed as teacher in the school for non-commissioned officers. I studied many things there, and worked earnestly with my friend, Professor Rolunt.

"In 1859 I felt our alienation most bitterly. We were not allowed to join in the Schiller festival. What would our civilization be without our poets? Whole dynasties of princes can be wiped away, and no one misses them; but just think of Schiller's name and works being obliterated! And why should we soldiers not join in the festivities? Has he not elevated our Fatherland and all of us? But he who would have dared to give utterance to such thoughts at that time would have been cashiered.

"In the year 1866, I had the good fortune to fight against a foreign foe in Schleswig-Holstein, and while at the front was promoted to a captaincy. I had a major who was, now that I consider it, merely stupid, and who was, therefore, of most revolting military orthodoxy. Had he not been of noble birth, he would scarcely have been made a woodcutter. As it was, he barely managed to get himself advanced in grade. As long as I was a lieutenant, it was easier to bear; but when I was made a company commander, I was inwardly rebellious and had to remain silent. Yes, you political gentlemen complain of tyranny, but we suffer far more from it than you do. Discipline is necessary, but to bear with such blockheads who disgrace you, and can do nothing but curse and swear-and this fellow did not even understand his duties-is harder than you think.

"The year 1866 came. No one, not even you, could see what was going on within me. My misery began. What are we? Were we to have a different commander every day? We were-now I can utter the word-prætorians, nothing else; and Prussia is quite right in altering our military system. We must know who our chief is. Up to now, we merely fought as soldiers, and dared not ask what the end would be. Everything was discipline; we partook of the Lord's Supper on account of discipline, and as an example for the troops.

"When Annette's husband fell, I thought him lucky; I had a wife and child, and yet wished for death. That fratricidal war was fortunately soon over. I can see now that it was necessary for our preparation. My feelings always revolted at the recollection of it, but now events are at hand which will remove those memories. I shuddered when I learned that monuments were being raised to those who had fallen in 1866. Now I can see that they have died twice over for their Fatherland; they had already sacrificed their hearts while living. Our profession is now at last in entire sympathy with the nation's wishes, and it is revolting that those who call themselves 'liberals' refuse to acknowledge the 'casus belli.'"

"Is the Prince aware of the patriotic ideas which you have kept to yourself for so long a time?" I asked as the Colonel paused.

"No! at least I do not think so! He merely knows that I sometimes write for our Military Journal, and that I am a good soldier. I never dreamt that I would be appointed Minister of War. And on that night I knew that we were simply to act as a reserve, and to be a sort of target for the enemy's bullets. You must surely have been of the same opinion."

I could not boast of having been so wise.

But the time had not come to think of the past. The Colonel gave me a copy of his will, which I was to deposit with the recorder. He did this calmly, without showing the slightest emotion. A few hours later we went to bed.

CHAPTER III

The reveille was sounded. The soldiers marched off, and nearly the whole town, young and old, followed them on their way. When I saw these merry men, and thought in how short a time so many of them would lie down in death, I became oppressed with the thought that I had raised my voice for war. But this feeling soon passed away. We are acting in self-defence, and this will bring about a happy ending, for we shall no longer have to live in dread of the insolence and presumption of our neighbors.

The soldiers sang as they marched along, and up by the newspaper-tree sat Carl's mother, looking at them passing by. Marie stood at her side, but the old woman motioned her away, and when I asked her to return home with us, she said:

"I have seen the thousands and thousands of mothers, who bore them all in pain, and have cared for and raised them, floating in the air over their heads. O my Carl! Have you heard nothing of him yet?"

We found it difficult to get her back to the village. Marie walked along at her side, and said:

"Do you know what I should like to be?"

"What?"

"Do you hear the hawk that is circling in the air over the hill-top? Alas, you cannot hear him, but you can see him. Like him, I should wish to fly, and I would fly to Charles and back again, and tell you everything."

The village and the country round about had been in an uproar; but now that the troops had left, everything was wonderfully quiet. Rothfuss was right; for if we had not seen the occasional remains of a camp-fire, we would not have known that the soldiers had been there. The old meadow farmer, who had been pensioned off by his son, and whom the departure of the troops had aroused, sat at his door, and seemed to enjoy watching the little pigs that were disporting themselves in the gutter.

A little coach stood before him, in which lay a child that he had to feed with milk; for his son wanted to get all he could from his father. He thought of nothing but the increase of his property, and acted meanly towards his father. He made him presents of the cheapest kind of tobacco, so that he should not buy an expensive sort; but the old man saw through the trick, and gave the tobacco money away, so that his son should not inherit it.

I gladly avoided all intercourse with these people.

As I approached the house, the old man beckoned to me to come to him, and, like a child, told me of his latest pleasure.

"I kept them locked up in my room as long as the soldiers were here. Soldiers have a great liking for such tender morsels. I used to be so myself."

I knew, of course, that he was talking about his pigs, and he added as a sort of consolation:

"Yes, yes, Mr. Ex-Burgomaster" – he gave me my title-"yes, yes, you are also retired at last, and squat by the stove. Yes, yes, we are old fellows and must stick at home, while the young ones are out yonder, fighting the enemy."

The old man kept on steadily smoking his pipe, and talked of war times, and particularly of the Russian campaign, of which he was a survivor. But on this day I could not listen to him, and while walking home I began thinking, am I really fit for nothing but to observe from afar the great deeds that are now being wrought?

Just as I was turning away from the old man, his son, the meadow farmer, came along with a large load of hay, and said in a mocking manner, "The French let us gather our hay; our houses will burn so much the better when they come to set them on fire." Then he added with malicious pleasure, "Your house is insured, but there is no insurance on your woods." Here he laughed aloud. When troubles are on us, a man's true nature shows itself.

After telling me his fears, he repeated them more fully to Rothfuss. The latter shifted his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other, and asked, "What would you give not to suffer any damage?"

"How? what do you mean?

"They won't hurt my house; my father has the cross of St. Helena. And I have no cash. I can swear that I haven't a farthing in the house."

He spoke the truth, for he had buried his money.

"You need no money; it's something else. Do you know the story of the dragon of Rockesberg?"

"What do you want? What do you mean?"

"Why, to quiet the dragon, they had to sacrifice a maiden."

"Those are old tales. Don't try to make a fool of me. If you want a fool, whittle one for yourself."

"Stay! I know how you can buy yourself free. You needn't deliver your daughter Marie to the dragon. Will you promise to give her to Carl in case everything should turn out well?"

"Ho! he'll never come back."

"But in case he should?"

"Well-do you think that will be of any use?"

"Certainly. Such a promise will save you."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself for being so superstitious. You are a fool," said the meadow farmer, and went off.

The exciting events of the last few days had so entirely exhausted me that I could not keep my eyes open in the day-time, if I sat down; and I was so tired. I still refused to believe that I was growing old. But I was strongly reminded of it, for I feared to die. Formerly, since I stood alone, I thought death an easy matter; now I wanted to live long enough to be laid in the soil of a united Fatherland.

I was much refreshed by the arrival of Julius's wife. When I awoke from my afternoon nap and saw her standing before me, it seemed as if it were my wife in her youth. She had a most charming presence, and the resignation with which she bore her separation from husband and brother gave great impressiveness to her manner. Every movement of hers had a quiet grace. She lived in entire harmony with my daughter-in-law Conny; and these two children, who had now become mine, petted and caressed me with such kindness and consideration, and listened so attentively to all I said, that I could speak to them of things which I usually kept to myself. Martha was an adept in making remarkably beautiful bouquets out of grasses and wild flowers, and when I entered the room in the morning, I always found a fresh nosegay on the table. She was such a pleasant table companion that the dishes tasted twice as good, and I soon regained my strength.

Marie often came to visit me. Martha felt very kindly towards the girl; besides, there was a bond of union between them, for each had her greatest treasure in the field.

Marie had hitherto confided in no one in the village; for it would be contrary to the peasant's standard of honor to tell any one how she loved, and what her father made her suffer. Her grandfather strengthened her in her love, and when I said that the old fellow did it merely to hurt his son's feelings, Martha declared I was wronging him.

Martha, like my wife, embellished what she looked upon. The light of her eyes made all things radiant with light, and as a happy young wife she was particularly inclined to favor and give consolation in an unhappy love affair. Forgetting all her own troubles, she gave me a lively account of the patience and energy with which Marie worked, while her father would go about the house, scolding and cursing, because he now was forced to do things which his servants had formerly attended to. Yesterday, while she was engaged in stacking some green clover, the father called out in the direction of the shed behind the cattle-rack. "To whom are you talking there?"

"To him."

"To whom?"

Marie shoved the clover aside, and said, "Father, look at me! Can you not see that it is written here that Carl loves me? There is not a spot in my face that he has not kissed. See here, father, look at this half-ducat. We chopped one in two; Charles has the other half. There!"

Then she piled the clover up again so that her father should not see her. He kept on cursing and swearing. She was glad, however, that she had spoken out at last. Still, Marie was greatly embarrassed. The little circle in which she moved was her world, and she could not bear being talked about by the world, for preferring the son of the poorest cottager to the son of the rich miller.

On the other hand, she took great pleasure in hearing Carl discussed. He had always said, "I don't like it that Marie is so rich. I don't need much. If I have enough to eat and drink and my clothes, I am satisfied; and if I have any children, they shall be like me in this respect. I do not care to be like the great farmers, and have money in the funds. I do not find that they are happier, more jovial, and healthier than their servants."

The schoolmaster also spoke of Carl: "He was my best pupil, and learnt the most; and when, as a soldier, he received his first furlough, he came to visit me first of all. He waited before the door until the school was dismissed, when he accompanied me home and thanked me. Yes, he will succeed in life."

In short, Carl has the qualities which we wish the people to possess: he is bright, clever, and active; is not dissatisfied with his lot, and is modest and frugal.

Martha did not merely place the flowers from the meadow before me, she also brought blossoms from the kind hearts of our villagers; for, as beautiful flowers grow among nettles, so can genuine feeling be found coupled with rudeness. We had to return to our quiet life, for, in spite of our heavy thoughts which were far away, the present demanded our attention.

In irrigating our meadows, we were frequently forced to protect ourselves against the tricks of the meadow farmer. The traps are set in the evening, and at night or early in the morning they are drawn up; for the meadows need cool water, that which the sun has warmed being injurious.

As the meadow farmer did not sleep well, he used to go out to the ditch and turn our water into his meadows.

Rothfuss found this out, and I caught the meadow farmer stealing the water. He feared the French, and yet he tried to rob his neighbors.

Martha, when she heard of this, thought that his love for his meadows might excuse this wickedness; but my daughter-in-law reproved her with a severity which I had never observed before. She looked upon such trespassing as being a most serious matter; for the growth of all that belongs to us out of doors depends on public confidence.

Alas! how we cared for such little matters, while such great affairs were being settled yonder. The French might come upon us at any moment. But it is always thus. You stoop to pick a strawberry, and do not notice the mountain range. Why, as I was walking through the woods I was delighted at the prospect of a good crop of huckleberries. This is of importance to the poor people; for the productions which those who are better off do not care to cultivate, furnish food for the poor.

On the evening of the 1st of August, I was again on top of the Hochspitz Mountain, where Wolfgang had been with me the last time. The whole valley of the Rhine was bathed in the glow of the setting sun, which filled the air like a golden stream, and beyond lay the blue Vosges Mountains.

What is going on there? Will the French soon be here, killing and burning as they go?

To protect the pine-tree seeds against the birds, Wolfgang had placed brushwood over the spot on which he had sowed them. This had already become dry, and the leaves, therefore, covered the ground from which the young plants were starting.

On my way home I could hear the murmur of the brook below; and everything was so still, that I could even hear the noise made by the fountain in front of my house. Sometimes the shrill sound of the saw-mill would be carried up to me by the breeze. The grain-fields were in bloom; a nourishing haze lay upon them; the forest-trees were silently growing; the sun shone so clear by day; the moon was so bright by night. We seemed to be separated from that world in which a dreadful slaughter was just beginning.

The next morning I looked from out my quiet home, into the far distance. It had rained during the night. Everything was cooled off, the sun shone brightly, and the air from the fields was most refreshing. We had brought in our hay the day before, and the thunder-storm during the night had nourished the meadows. It seemed as if the myriads of refreshed plants joyfully gave token of new vigor. I said to myself: Thus may it be with our country and our people; perhaps, while you slept, a dreadful storm-and, let us hope, a beneficent one-may have passed over us.

Just then Joseph brought the news: "Fighting has begun. We have been beaten at Saarbrücken."

"None of our people are there: only Prussians are there," cried Rothfuss.

Joseph saw how angry these words made me, and, to turn away my wrath, he begun to tell about Funk, who was down in the tavern boasting of his knowledge of French, and saying that he would get along with the Frenchmen. He also had several little books for sale, from which the ordinary French phrases could be learnt.

Funk went about in jack-boots, carrying on a heavy business in grain, butter, and bacon with the army. Schweitzer-Schmalz had advanced him money for the purpose. He boasted of his generosity in putting the poor fellow on his feet, but at the same time had wisely bargained for the lion's share of the profits.

An hour afterwards, the wife of the councillor sent word that the news of our defeat was false.

That afternoon a message came from Hartriegel, informing us that, from the top of a hill in his neighborhood, a great movement of the opposing armies could be seen. I hurried up there with Joseph, Martha, and Conny. The engineer, who had been engaged at a neighboring stone-quarry while the troops had been stationed about us, reappeared and accompanied us.

We stood on the top of the tower of the ruined castle and gazed over into Alsace, where we could see the movements of the battle.

It was going on near Weissenburg, the region which was so familiar to me. Looking on thus from a distance, with fear and trembling as we saw the sudden flashes, the clouds of smoke, the burning villages, and hearing, occasionally, the sound of the guns which the echo from the hills brought us-all this oppressed me so much that Martha persuaded me to take some wine. It went hard with me to do so, for I first had to drown the thought of the many men yonder who might be restored to life if we could but wet their lips.

Martha prayed; I could only think of the new epoch that was just beginning. Happiness and victory must be the share of those who desire their own good and that of others. One great step was already gained, for the war had been carried into the enemy's country.

We did not return before nightfall. Joseph drove to town to bring the latest news. The morrow came, so calm and clear. What has been the result?

At noon a shot was fired down at the saw-mill; this was the signal that Joseph was to give in case we had triumphed. He came and brought the news of the glorious victory at Wörth.

"We have beaten the French on their own ground," he cried; "it was their own ground, but it must be ours again. Our boys were there," he added, after a pause. "Father! sisters! let us be prepared for everything."