“Goltz,” said he, loudly, and looking as if he wished to crush the unhappy general—“Goltz, tell my brother and the other generals that if I did justice, I would take off their heads—Winterfeldt only excepted.” [Footnote: The king’s own words—“Characteristics of the Seven Years’ War.”]
A murmur of discontent was heard amongst the generals, and every eye was fixed angrily upon Winterfeldt. He turned deadly pale, and looked down, as if ashamed of the exception the king had made, and dared not gaze upon those whose guilt he shared, and whose punishment he escaped.
The king fixed his eye so piercingly upon the murmurers, that they felt his glance upon them, without daring to meet it. Only the Prince of Prussia drew still nearer to the king.
“Sire,” said he, in a calm voice, “my duty demands that I should give your majesty a list of the army. Will you be graciously pleased to accept it from me?” He took the paper from his pocket, and handed it to the king, who snatched it from him hastily, and turned his back again upon them.
“Withdraw, messieurs,” said he, “your presence oppresses me; you remind me of the disgraceful defeat my army has suffered, through the guilt of its leaders.”
“Sire,” said the Duke of Severn, “will your majesty listen to our justification?”
“Justification!” cried the king, with flashing eyes—“if this unparalleled disgrace which you have all brought upon my army could be justified, I might pity; but I must curse you. Go, sir duke, I will not look upon you.” And springing with youthful activity from his horse, he entered his tent.
The generals were alone. They looked upon each other’s death-like faces with suppressed scorn upon their trembling lips, and tears of rage in their eyes.
“Shall we bear this shame silently?” said one.
“Shall we allow ourselves to be scolded like schoolboys?” said another. “Shall we suffer foul accusations to be brought against us, and no opportunity granted for justification?”