BOOK FOURTH
CHAPTER I
The great crisis which we have dreaded and yet hoped for has at last arrived. We are again obliged to contend with our hectoring neighbor, whose lust of power goads him to trample on our rights. We must fight, if we wish to endure; and will all Germany be united? If in this juncture we are not as one, our ruin is assured, and will be richly deserved.
To know that the decisive moment is at hand, and that you cannot actively participate-that you are only a single wave in the current, is at once an oppressive and an exalting thought.
In my mind, I go over the list of my fellow-members in the Parliament. The decision seems to hang in doubt. Eccentricity is still rampant, and decks itself with all sorts of revolutionary ideas.
And how is the Prince inclined? Were it better if it rested with one man to decide whether we should have war or peace?
And there is another bitter experience that is forced upon us in periods of doubt and indecision; namely, that fixed principles begin to waver.
I found it a great comfort to have Ludwig with me. He was so thoroughly in sympathy with me, and yet, at the same time, a foreigner. He had become a citizen of the New World, in which he had lived over twenty years, and his views were freer from prejudice than ours could be.
In spite of the declaration of war on the part of the French government, the ravings in the French Legislative Chambers, and the outcry in the streets of Paris, I yet encouraged a hope that war might be averted. But Ludwig thought-and I was obliged to agree with him-that it were both treachery and folly now, when the right was on our side, not to accept the battle which would thus only be postponed. For this constant waiting and watching for what others may do, is a painful state of dependence.
Ludwig was younger; his pulse was steadier. He had already fought in this country with undisciplined crowds, and, in the United States, had taken part in the great war.
He said in confidence that if he had known that the decision was so near at hand, he would have kept on better terms with Funk; because, at that moment, the great object was to gain his allegiance and that of his party, in which there was no lack of noble enthusiasts. Ludwig held that, in politics, it was not alone permissible, but even necessary, to use strategy and double-dealing.
Martella so urgently entreated me to permit her to accompany us, that, for her sake, Ludwig's wife remained at home.
At the village down by the railway station, and at nearly every station on the road, I was asked whether I believed there would be war, and whether I would advise the people to drive their cattle into out-of-the-way ravines and valleys, and to hide their household goods, on account of the threatened invasion of the French hordes.
I took great pains to explain my views; but, at the second station, Ludwig said: "Father, you are giving yourself unnecessary trouble. The people do not wish to learn anything. They think that you cannot know any more about it than they do. They simply ask you idle and anxious questions, just as they would at other times, 'What kind of weather do you think we will have?' Father, do not pour out the deepest feelings of your heart."
After that, I replied that one could not say much upon the subject; and I observed that the people, were more respectful because I was so reserved. They assumed that, as I was a delegate, I was fully informed on all subjects, and neither dared nor desired to unbosom myself.
It was rather late, but not too late. From that day, I learned that it is not best to open one's soul to another and reveal all that is within it; and for that reason, it is said of me that, since the beginning of the war, I am a changed man. In those days, I learned things that never were suffered to pass my lips.
The first one whom we met at the capital was my son-in-law, the Major.
"What is the opinion in the army?" inquired Ludwig.
The Major looked at him steadily, and, after a pause, answered, "Opinion? In the army there is obedience." With forced composure, he added, "As far as I know, the army neither debates nor votes."
He turned to me and said that this time we were better prepared than four years ago.
I asked whether the army orders had already been promulgated.
He shrugged his shoulders, and evidently did not care to divulge anything. He told me, though, that since the evening previous, he had been advanced to the rank of colonel, and had been placed in command of a regiment. When I spoke of this, as indicating that the Prince had decided for war, he lapsed into silence.
We soon parted, regretting that we could not go to his house, for Annette had already prepared quarters for our reception.
I then went to our club-house and learned that our party was already broken up. The Funk faction-I must give it this name, although he was not its leader-held separate meetings.
Ludwig determined logo at once to the meeting of Funk's party, because it was important above all things to know what was being done there.
"I believe in Lincoln's maxim," said he, "that 'it will never do to swap horses while crossing streams.'"
In little more than an hour, he returned and told us that he had been coldly received, although the leadership was shared with Funk by two members who had once been among his most intimate friends. He was now, however, able to tell that their plan was to insist on neutrality. They did not dare to think, much less to speak, of an alliance with France. Their intention, however, was to call together a large meeting of the popular party, in order to exert a moral influence on Parliament, and perhaps to overawe it.
At our meeting, we were expecting the arrival of the prime minister; the right wing of our party sided with the ministry.
The minister did not come; but sent one of his councillors, who informed me that the session would not be opened unless a quorum of delegates was present.
He told us that there was great disorder among the telegraphs.
After the councillor had left, Loedinger, my old associate and prison-mate, told me in confidence, that he expected a coup d'etat. He felt that the Prince had no desire to take counsel with the country, and had determined that his glory as a warrior should be shared by no one.
Loedinger was one of those imaginative persons who, whenever they form suspicions against any one, carry them to their extremest consequences.
The President, who was a member of our party, told us under the seal of secrecy, that the reason for delaying the opening of our session was that they might first ascertain what action the delegates in the next state would decide upon.
We were thus held in anxious suspense.
During the night, I found it impossible to sleep; and Ludwig, who was in the next room, called out to me: "Father, you must sleep; to-morrow will be a trying day. Just think of it! – the Emperor of Germany-I should say, the King of Prussia-must also sleep to-night, and he is three years older than you are."
Yes, it was on that night, the 16th of July, that my son announced the German Emperor to me. I could not help smiling with joy, and at last fell asleep. And, strange to say, I dreamed that I was again at Jena, and that the fantastic mummery of those days was being renewed. Because I had a round head and a ruddy complexion, I was termed the "Imperial Globe," and they maintained that, with my large stature and broad shoulders, the imperial mantle would fit me best of all. They placed it on me, and I was obliged forthwith to distribute offices. And suddenly, I was no longer the Emperor, but Rothfuss, who laughed most terribly. I, too, was obliged to laugh-and, laughing, I awoke.
CHAPTER II
When I opened my eyes, Ludwig stood at my bedside and said, "You have slept well, father, and it is well that you did. You will need all your strength to-day; for to-day it will be-Good-morning, Germany."
I cannot describe how my son's presence helped to strengthen me. I felt that, with his power added to mine, I was doubly prepared for all that might happen.
There is nothing more encouraging, in troubled times, than to have a faithful friend at one's side, – a truth which was proved to me on that day and many a time since.
I could not help recounting my strange dream, and when I added that it gave me incomparable joy to think that the day had at last arrived in which one might say the hearts of all Germans throbbed in unison, Ludwig begged me not to talk so much. He said that he could sympathize with me, and feel what a satisfaction it must be to me, after having fought and suffered for fifty years, at last to witness the fruition of my hopes, even though the price paid be war and bloodshed.
He was indeed right. He responded to all my feelings; I may indeed say that he anticipated them.
When I reached the street, the throng was such that it seemed as if all the houses had been emptied of their inhabitants. Here and there, were groups talking aloud, and before the printing-office of the principal newspaper, it was almost impossible to work one's way through the crowd.
It was there that I met an old friend, the incorruptible Mölder. In 1866 he had resigned a high position under the state, in order, thenceforth, to devote himself to his Fatherland, and, above all, to the cause of German unity.
"It is well that I meet you," he said; "we have war now, and have stolen a march on the French. Here, in the capital, the majority of the citizens are on our side, but in the country, as you well know, the so-called popular party is to a certain extent in the majority. The common people are not so willing to follow our advice, for they are in the hands of the clergy and the demagogues, who, for a little while longer, will travel together on the same road. For this reason, we have issued the call for a mass meeting at the Turners' Hall for this evening."
"Would it not be best for us delegates to hold aloof from it?" I inquired.
"No; it is too late for that. You will have to speak there, and so will your son from America. We did not care to arouse you so late last night, and I have, therefore, on my own responsibility, signed your name to the call. But look!"
I saw crowds standing at the street corners, and reading a large placard, calling on all whose hearts beat with love of Germany to meet together-and I really found my name at the foot of it.
I could not object; our actions were no longer at our own disposal.
Excited crowds filled the streets during the whole day. The whole population seemed like one restless being in anxious suspense. It was said that the telegraph wires had been connected with the palace, and as the people knew nothing of this before, the information caused great surprise. The afternoon paper brought the official news that they had wanted the King of Prussia to address the French Emperor in an humble letter, in which he was particularly forbidden to refer to the relationship existing between the French Emperor and the Prince of Hohenzollern, who had been elected King of Spain-a pleasant preparation for what was to ensue in the evening.
I did not see the Colonel during the whole day, but his friend, Professor Rolunt, hunted me up; and, from the manner in which he spoke of our project, it seemed to me that my son-in-law approved of it, and that the popular movement about to be set on foot, was not looked upon with disfavor by the government. Moreover, the Professor had become very cautious, and was known to stand well with government circles. He was believed to be an anonymous contributor to the official organ.
In the evening, we repaired to the place of meeting.
Mölder arrived, and with pale and trembling lips, told us:
"It is rumored that the friends of the French will attempt to break up the meeting. But I have called on the Turners. They are all on our side, and your son stands as well with them as he once did."
The proceedings began.
Mölder was the first speaker. I have never seen any one more excited than he was. His lips trembled, and he held fast to the rail with a convulsive grasp, while he began:
"We do not desire to become Prussians; but we wish to be Germans, as we must and shall be. Is there one among you who would dare to utter the accursed words, 'Rather French than Prussian!' If there be one who dares to think it, let him dare to say it."
He paused for a while, and then exclaimed:
"Is there such a one among you? Answer me! Yes or no!"
"No!" resounded from a thousand throats, and he responded with joyous voice, "Then we are all friends." He then concluded his address, eloquently maintaining that to attempt to remain neutral were both treachery and folly.
A young advocate who had been defeated in the recent elections, by one of the clerical party, followed. He spoke with that studied eloquence which talks glibly and in nicely rounded phrases. He concluded by demanding that the whole meeting should proceed to the palace and request the Prince to discharge his hesitating ministry; or, at all events, the one minister who seemed to be unpatriotically inclined.
Enthusiastic and joyous shouts of approval were showered upon him.
I saw the danger that threatened, and asked for the floor.
"There has been enough talking; it is time now for deeds!" cried a voice in the assembly, and it seemed as if the crowd were already on the move.
My heart stood still. We were no longer masters of our own actions.
Then Ludwig cried out, in a voice so powerful that the very walls seemed to tremble, "If you are men, listen! My father wishes to speak."
"Hurrah for the King of the Turners! Let old Waldfried speak! Silence! Order! Let old Waldfried speak!"
It was a long while before the shouting and the cheering ceased, and I think I spoke the right word at the right time.
I had a right to refer to my past, and to explain to them that it would only create disturbance and confusion to adopt such violent measures before anything had really been decided upon. If I were the Prince, I would not yield to their wishes until the voice of the representatives of the people had been heard.
The temper of the meeting changed, and I received many signs of approval.
When I had finished, there were shouts of, "We want to hear the King of the Turners speak!"
Ludwig mounted the rostrum; but so great was the applause, that it was several minutes before he could speak.
At last he began, in a cheerful tone, saying that we Germans were still full of the haughty arrogance of youth, and that this very meeting was a proof of it.
Then, with words that carried conviction to all who listened, he told them how the events of the last year had been a blessing to the emigrants in America; a blessing, indeed, which could not thoroughly be appreciated by those who were yet at home. The German had been respected, if he could call himself a Prussian; but now the time had come when the word German must be an honored name. And if, as some maintained, the South Germans are the real Germans, let them prove it.
If the Prussians are not yet Germans, they shall, and must, and will become so. They delivered us from the real Napoleon; they will also be able to free us from the counterfeit one. The first was not made of gold, but this one is mere pinchbeck.
"I have fought against negro slavery; now the battle is against the slavery that French ambition would submit us to."
While Ludwig was speaking, the chairman handed me a little slip of paper, on which were written the words, "Your son knows how to allow the heated steed to cool off before tying him."
Ludwig could, indeed, direct the mood of the meeting at will.
To the great amusement of his audience, he said that he had the rare good fortune of having been born near the boundary line, and that, consequently, the first object he had become sensible of, were the two brightly painted posts which stood side by side on the road; and that, while yet a child, he had often looked up to the trees in the woods, to see whether they knew to which of the posts they belonged.
"And when I returned, the abject life that we had been leading was again brought to my mind. On the one side marked by the bright post, all is Catholic, and on the other side all is Protestant, because in those times the people were obliged to accept their so-called religion from their masters.
"Allow me to take a comparison from my own trade. It requires many strong posts to make the scaffolding of a building. The departed martyrs for German unity were the scaffolding. It has been torn down, and now we behold the building, pure and simple, firmly and regularly built, and appropriately adorned.
"Or another simile: Have you ever observed a raft in the valley stream? It floats along slowly and lazily, but when it reaches the weir it hurries; and then is the time to find out whether the withes are strong and hold the planks firmly together.
"The German logs must now pass through the weir. There is a cracking and a straining, but they hold fast to each other, and right merrily do they float down into the Rhine and out into the ocean.
"The bells in the neighboring state have a different tone from ours; but if the two are in accord, the effect is so much the more beautiful. And from this moment let all bells chime in harmony."
Ludwig had the rare faculty of introducing apt illustrations while his audience was all aglow with enthusiasm, and thus kept the meeting in the best of humor and ready to agree with him when he concluded by saying: "We have been patient so long-for more than half a century: indeed, ever since the battle of Leipzig-that we can well afford to be patient for a few days, perhaps only a few hours longer."
The meeting which had been so excited closed with singing. It was on that evening that I heard "Die Wacht am Rhein," for the first time. It must, before that, have been slumbering on every lip, and had now at last awakened.
The young advocate who had proposed the immediate removal of the minister, whispered to me, "I thank you for having defeated my motion."
I looked at him with surprise, and he continued: "I do, indeed, thank you. The only object was to show the friends of the French that even though it might require extreme measures, no demand that liberalism could make would surprise us."
That sort of worldly wisdom was not to my taste.
The chairman then put the following resolution to a vote:
That we would remain true to the articles of confederation and to the German cause, with all our means and at every sacrifice.
They shouted their approval with one voice; and now he closed the meeting with a few cheerful remarks, announcing that we would adjourn to the garden, where the beer was very good, and where there would be no more speeches except the clinking of the mugs.
CHAPTER III
"Father, you had better go home; you need sleep. I will accompany you to our quarters, but I must return again, as they all insist upon my doing so."
Ludwig and I took our way through the streets. They were still filled with a surging crowd, and in front of the palace the entire guard was under arms. They had evidently made preparations against a popular disturbance.
When I arrived at the dwelling, Ludwig left me.
Annette was still awake, and informed me, as soon as I entered, that a member of the cabinet had been there, had left word that I should come to the palace that evening, and that if I would mention my name at the left entrance I would be admitted. He had also said that, no matter how late it was when I returned, I should not fail to come. I said that there must have been some mistake-that they probably meant my son Richard, or Ludwig; but Annette repeated that "Father Waldfried" had been especially mentioned.
I replied that I was so tired that I would have to leave it until the next day, but Annette thought that such a command must be implicitly obeyed, and believed that the Prince himself desired to speak with me.
I repaired to the palace. The whole of the left wing was illuminated.
When I gave my name to the lackey at the foot of the staircase, he called it out, and a secretary appeared and said, in a respectful voice; "The Prince awaits you."
I pointed to my workday dress, but was assured that that made no matter.
I ascended the staircase. On every hand there were guards. I was conducted into a large saloon, where the secretary left me. He soon reappeared, holding the door open and saying, "Please enter."
I went in. The Prince advanced to meet me, and took me by the hand, saying: "I thank you sincerely for having come. I would gladly have allowed you to rest overnight, but these times do not permit us to rest. Pray be seated."
It was well that I was allowed to take a seat.
The Prince must have observed that I was almost out of breath, and said: "Do not speak; you are quite exhausted. Permit me to tell you that, in this trying hour, I repose full confidence in you. I have, for a long while, desired to make your acquaintance. I have known your son, the Professor, ever since he was at the university."
He added other highly complimentary remarks.
A pause ensued, during which I noticed, on the opposite wall, a picture of the deceased Princess, who, as I had often heard, had been a great benefactress to the country during the famine of 1817. This picture revived my recollections of Gustava, and I felt as if I were not alone, but as if she were with me.
All this passed through my mind during the few moments of silence.
The Prince went on to say that he had been informed of what I had said an hour ago at the popular meeting. It had, for several days, been his desire to act in union with me, but that he had entertained doubts on various points, – among others as to whether I could attach myself to him; and that the information he had just received had at last aided him to form his conclusion.
"Excuse the question, but are you a republican?"
"I have sworn to support the government," was my answer.
"Are you a republican in theory?"
"In theory? The days of Pericles and Scipio are reflected in the soul of every German who has received a classical education, and, logically considered, a republic is the only form of free government. But neither the life of nature, nor that of human history, is absolutely logical, for actual necessity sets aside the systems erected by abstract reason."
"That is well, and we shall, therefore, no doubt agree on all that follows. But let me ask you one other question: Do you candidly and heartily desire the continued existence of my sovereign dynasty?"
"Sovereign-no; dynasty-yes."
At these words the Prince arose from his seat, and hurriedly walked across the floor. It seemed as if he involuntarily placed a distance between himself and me. He remained standing in a dark corner of the room.
There was a long pause, during which nothing broke the silence except the ticking of the little clock on his table.
Such words had never been uttered in those halls. I had done my duty; but I distrusted the Prince. Although suspicion is foreign to my nature, his entire behavior aroused it in me. The Prince returned, and stood opposite me, while he rested his clenched fist on his writing-desk. The full ligh