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.