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.