Frederick the Great and His Family Part 51

CHAPTER XII. CAMP SCENE

It was a cold winter day, and in the Prussian camp at Newmark every one was occupied making fires.

"Let us get a great deal of wood," said a sprightly-looking, slender young soldier, to his comrades; "our limbs must not be stiff to-day. I think to-morrow all will go off bravely, and we will prepare a strong soup for the Austrians."

"And instead of the noodles, we will send them cannon-b.a.l.l.s," said a comrade, standing near him. "But see here, brother, as we are not going to fight this evening, I think we should make use of the time and cook a soup for ourselves. When we have wood enough for a good fire, we will set the kettle over it, and the best of pastimes will be ready. Shall we do it, comrades? Every man a groschen, and Charles Henry Buschman to cook the noodles."

"Yet, Buschman must cook the noodles; no one understands it so well as he. Charles Henry Buschman! Where hides the fellow? He is generally sticking to Fritz Kober, and they are chatting together as if they were lovers. Buschman! Charles Henry Buschman! Where are you?"

"Here I am!" cried a bright, fresh voice, and a slender youth, belonging to Prince Henry's regiment, stepped forward and joined them. "Who calls me?--what do you want?"

"We want you to cook noodles for us, Buschman; every man pays a groschen, and eats to his heart's content. You shall have them for nothing, because you prepare them."

"I will have nothing that I don't pay for," said Charles Henry, proudly; "I can pay as well as the rest of you, and perhaps I have more money than all of you; for while you are drinking, smoking, and playing, I put my groschens aside for a rainy day."

"Yes, that is true; Buschman is the most orderly, the most industrious of us all," said Fritz Kober, as he nodded lovingly to his young friend.

"He does not drink, or smoke, or play; and, I can tell you, he sews like a woman. He mended a s.h.i.+rt for me to-day. A ball had pa.s.sed through it at Rossbach, making a hole in the left sleeve. I tell you, the s.h.i.+rt looks as if a clever woman had mended it."

"Well, it is a pity he isn't one," said one of the soldiers, with a merry laugh; "perhaps you have a sister at home, Henry, whom you could give to Kober."

"No, comrade," said Charles Henry, sadly; "I have neither father, mother, sister, nor brother. I am alone in the world, and have no other friend but my comrade, Fritz Kober. Will you not give him to me, comrades? Will you tease him because he is the friend of a poor, young fellow, against whom you have nothing to say except that he is just seventeen years old and has no heard and his voice a little thin, not able to make as much noise as yourself? Promise me that you will not laugh at Fritz again because he is kind to, and loves a poor, forsaken boy. If you tease him, he will become desperate and run off from me, and then, when I fall in battle, he will not close my eyes as he has promised to do."

"I will never run away from you, darling brother," said Fritz Kober. "We two shall stay together in camp and in battle. You have won me with your soft, black eyes: they remind me of those of my good, faithful Phylax."

"Well, well, Fritz shall do as he pleases," said one of the boys; "but enough with our chatting, let us seek the wood for our fire."

"Wood, wood, let us seek wood," cried all, gayly, and the happy troop separated on all sides. Only Charles Henry remained to prepare the fire.

With busy haste he took the kettle, which the soldiers had dragged near, ran to the neighboring market and bought a groschen worth of lard to make the noodles savory, then hastened back to cut the bacon and mix it with the noodles. Some of the soldiers returned empty-handed--no wood was to be found; the soldiers, who had searched before them, had taken it all.

"It would be horrible not to have noodles this evening," said Fritz Kober, furiously. "Who knows but they may be the last we shall eat in this world? The b.a.l.l.s may take our heads off to-morrow, and we never could eat Charles Henry's noodles again."

"What you can do to-day never put off until to-morrow," cried one of the soldiers. "We must eat noodles to-day, and we must have wood, even if we have to steal it from the devil's kitchen." And, as he turned around, his eye fell upon a little hut which stood on the other side of the camp. "Boys." he cried, gleefully, "do you see that hut?"

"Certainly; that hut is the king's quarters."

"I am willing the king should occupy the hut; but it is covered with wood, and he does not need that. Come, boys, we will have wood to cook our noodles."

With a hurrah they started forward to the old forsaken shepherd's hut in which the king had taken refuge. They climbed the rook as nimbly as cats, and now the old boards cracked and groaned and flew in every direction, and were received with shouts of joy by the surrounding soldiers. Suddenly a guard officer stepped from the hut, and saw with horror its destruction; he ordered the soldiers to lay the boards as they had found them, and to go off at once. The soldiers mocked at him, and continued at their work quietly.

"We are going to eat noodles," they said, "common noodles, of meal and lard, that we may have the courage to swallow iron noodles to-morrow. To cook noodles, we need wood. We find it here, and we shall take it."

"What!" cried the officer, "I forbid it, and you refuse to obey?--Sentinels, forward!"

The four guards, who, until now, had walked quietly to and fro before the hut, placed themselves at the door and shouldered arms.

"Fire at the first one who dares to touch another piece of wood,"

commanded the officer. But the wanton soldiers paid no attention to this order; they regarded it as an empty threat.

"Fire," cried one, laughing, "fire is just what we want--without fire, no noodles; and to make fire we must have wood."

"Whew! I have a big splinter in my finger," cried another soldier, who was on the roof, and had just broken off a plank; "I must draw it out and put it back, mustn't I, lieutenant?"

At this question the gay group broke into a loud laugh; but it was interrupted by the angry words of the officer.

Suddenly a mild voice asked: "What is the matter?" At the first sound of this voice the soldiers seemed dismayed; they stopped their work, and their merry faces became earnest and thoughtful. Stiff and motionless they remained on the roof awaiting their punishment; they knew that voice only too well, they had heard it in the thunder of battle. The king repeated his question. The officer approached him.

"Sire, these dragoons are tearing the roof from your majesty's quarters, all my threats are useless; therefore I ordered the sentinels forward."

"What do you want with the sentinels?" asked the king.

"To fire amongst them, if they do not desist."

"Have you tried kindness?" said the king, sternly; "do you think, on the day before a battle, I have soldiers to spare, and you may shoot them down because of a piece of wood?"

The officer murmured a few confused words; but the king paid no attention to him; he looked up at the soldiers sitting stiff and motionless upon the roof.

"Listen, dragoons," said the king; "if you take off my roof, the snow will fall in my bed to-night, and you do not wish that, do you?"

"No, we do not wish it, sire," said Fritz Kober, ashamed, slipping softly from the roof; the others followed his example, and prepared to be off, giving melancholy glances at the wood lying on the ground.

The king looked thoughtfully after them, and murmured, softly, "Poor fellows, I have deprived them of a pleasure.--Halloo, dragoons," he cried aloud, "listen!"

The soldiers looked back, frightened and trembling.

"Tell me," said the king, "what use were you going to make of the wood?"

"Cook noodles, sire," said Fritz Kober; "Henry Buschman promised to cook noodles for us, and the bacon is already cut; but we have no wood."

"Well, if the bacon is cut," said the king, smiling, "and if Henry Buschman has promised to make the noodles, he must certainly keep his word; take the wood away with you."

"Hurrah! long life to our king and to our good Fritz Kober," cried the soldiers, and, collecting the wood, they hastened away.

The king stepped back, silently, into the small, low room of the hut.

Alone, there once more the smile disappeared, and his countenance became sad and anxious. He confessed to himself what he had never admitted to friend or confidant, that it was a daring and most dangerous undertaking to meet the Austrian army of seventy thousand with his thirty-three thousand men.

"And should I fail," said the king, thoughtfully, "and lead these brave troops to their death without benefit to my country--should they die an unknown death--should we be conquered, instead of conquering! Oh, the fortune of battles lies in the hands of Providence; the wisest disposition of troops, the most acute calculations are brought to naught by seeming accident. Should I expose my army to the fearful odds, should I hazard so many lives to gratify my ambition and my pride? My generals say it will be wiser not to attack, but to wait and be attacked. Oh, Winterfeldt, Winterfeldt, were you but here, you would not advise this, not you! Why have you been taken from me, my friend? Why have you left me alone among my enemies? I can find, perhaps, resources against my enemies, but I will never find another Winterfeldt." [Footnote: The king's own words.--Retzow, vol. i.. p. 220.] The king leaned his head upon his breast, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

"How solitary, how joyless life is! how rich I was once in friends, how poor I am now! and who knows how much poorer I may be to-morrow at this hour--who knows if I shall have a place to lay my head?--I may be a fugitive, without home or country. Verily, I have the destiny of Mithridates--I want only two sons and a Monima. Well," continued he, with a soft smile, "it is still something to stand alone--misfortunes only strike home. But do I stand alone? have I not an entire people looking to me and expecting me to do my duty? Have I not brave soldiers, who call me father, looking death courageously in the face and hazarding their lives for me? No, I am not alone--and if Mithridates had two sons, I have thirty-three thousand. I will go and bid them good-evening. I think it will refresh my sad heart to hear their cheerful greetings."

The king threw on his mantle and left his quarters, to make, as he was often accustomed to do, a tour through the camp. Only the officer on guard followed him, at a short distance.

It was now dark, and fires, which were lighted everywhere, gave a little protection against the biting cold. It was a beautiful sight--the wide plain, with its numberless, blazing, flickering fires, surrounded by groups of cheerful soldiers, their fresh faces glowing with the light of the flames. In the distance the moon rose grand and full, illuminating the scene with its silver rays, and blending its pale s.h.i.+mmer with the ruddy flames.

The king walked briskly through the camp, and, when recognized, the soldiers greeted him with shouts and loving words. As he approached a large fire, over which hung a big kettle, the contents of which filled the air with savory odors, he heard a brisk voice say:

"Now, comrades, come and eat, the noodles are done!"

"Hurrah! here we are," cried the boys, who were standing not far off, chatting merrily. They sprang forward joyfully, to eat the longed--for noodles.