For Sceptre and Crown Volume II Part 13

"Your majesty," he said, in a husky voice, "the unavoidable must be endured; the sun s.h.i.+nes even on the darkest day! Your majesty must not uselessly sacrifice the lives of your subjects, but," he continued, "you are answerable to history, and it must be clearly stated that a further march is impossible. If I may presume to advise your majesty, cause the general in command, and each commander of a brigade, upon his military honour and the oath given to his sovereign, to declare before G.o.d and his conscience that the troops can neither march nor fight, and that they have neither food nor ammunition. Thus will your majesty be freed from all reproach from your army, your country, and history."

The king bent his head in approval.

"So shall it be," he said. "Draw up such a doc.u.ment with the a.s.sistance of Lex, and send it to General Arentschildt."

"And permit me, your majesty," cried Count Ingelheim, "at this solemn moment to express my conviction that notwithstanding the heavy trial it has pleased G.o.d to lay upon you, you will return in triumph to your capital, as surely as Austria and my emperor will, to the last man, maintain the rights of Germany."

The king held out his hand to him.

"You too have borne the fatigues of the campaign in vain," he said, with a melancholy smile.

"Not in vain, your majesty," cried Count Ingelheim. "I have seen a king and an army without fear and without reproach."

An hour later the king received the declaration he had demanded, signed by the general in command, the chief of the general staff, and all the brigadiers. A capitulation was concluded with General Vogel von Falckenstein, but soon afterwards General von Manteuffel arrived, and at the command of the King of Prussia granted other conditions, which were highly favourable to the Hanoverian army.

The officers retained their arms, their baggage, their horses, and all their privileges; and even the sub-officers retained their rank. The privates gave up their arms and horses to officers appointed by the King of Hanover, and they delivered them to Prussian commissioners; they were then dismissed to their homes.

But first General Manteuffel, at the express command of the King of Prussia, publicly acknowledged the brave conduct of the Hanoverian soldiers.

The King of Hanover sent Count Platen, General von Brandis, and Herr Meding before him to Linz, there to await him; he himself rested for a short time in the castle of the Duke of Altenburg, from whence he proceeded to Vienna to await further events.

The Hanoverian soldiers, who were smitten as by a thunderbolt from the seventh heaven by the capitulation, laid down their arms with bitter grief, and with dust on their heads returned to the homes they had left so confident of victory.

But they could return unhumiliated, for they had done what was possible. The brave and faithful army, on the last battle-field where the ancient banner of their country was unfurled, had raised a monument of honour and glory which the chivalrous commander of the Prussian troops was the first to adorn with the laurels of his praise.

But who, that knows the history of that day and its important results, can avoid asking the question, "Why was it not possible that two such n.o.ble, chivalrous, and pious princes, whose warriors stood opposed in deadly fight, should not have known and understood each other?"

CHAPTER XV.

SUSPENSE.

The sultry heat of summer was extremely oppressive in the plain surrounding the quiet village of Blechow; the sky looked dark and heavy, not that it was covered with clouds, but it was grey from the heavy atmosphere, and although the sun was still high above the horizon, his rays were of a dark blood-red colour. Deep stillness prevailed. Almost all the young men had left the village; as soon as the news came that the troops were concentrated at Gottingen they had set out to join the army there, or to overtake it on its march. But the stillness was the most complete in the old castle, where the president, with gloomy wrinkles on his brow, paced up and down the great hall, and gazed from time to time across the garden at the broad plain beyond. He had obeyed the king's command, that all magistrates should remain at their posts; he had, through the Landrostei, received a decree from the ministry whereby the government of the country was delivered to the Prussian Civil Commissioner, Herr von Hardenburg, and he had given up all business to the Auditor von Bergfeld, saying, "Your knowledge is quite sufficient to enable you to understand and execute all the orders which may be issued by the government; do everything, and when you want my signature bring me the papers. I will remain at my post, and will sign them, since the king has so commanded; but do not consult me, for I will hear nothing of all this misery, and my old heart, which is sad enough already, shall not be p.r.i.c.ked to death with pins. But if there is any oppression which I could by any possibility avert, then tell me the whole matter, and the Prussian Civil Commissioner shall hear old Wendenstein's voice as plainly as the Hanoverian board have ever heard it!" With that he left the office; he signed his name when needful, and he seldom opened his lips after the foreign occupation was completed.

Madame von Wendenstein went silently and quietly about the house,--she looked after the house keeping, and arranged everything as punctually as ever,--but sometimes the old lady would pause suddenly, her dreamy eyes fixed on the far-off distance, as if they sought to follow her thoughts beyond the wood-encircled horizon,--then she would hastily resume her occupation, and hurry restlessly through the well-known rooms, and the more she ordered and arranged the more she seemed to become mistress of her heavy trouble.

It was very quiet too in the Pfarrhaus. No one had left it, all went on as usual, but the general depression seemed to weigh down the humble roof, and even the roses in the garden hung their heads exhausted by the burning heat of the sun.

The pastor had gone out, as was his custom, to visit some of his people, for he did not consider the Sunday services his only duty, but thought that he who would really be a shepherd and bishop of souls must carry the word of G.o.d in friendly converse into the daily life of his flock and know its joys and sorrows.

Helena sat at the window, and mechanically plied her needle, but her eyes were often thoughtfully turned to the far distance, and her hands sank wearily into her lap.

Candidate Behrmann sat opposite to her; he was as neatly dressed and as smoothly brushed as ever, and his expressionless and composed countenance looked happier and more cheerful than usual.

His sharp observing eyes followed the looks the young girl fixed on the distant horizon, and that the languis.h.i.+ng conversation might not entirely fail, he said,--

"It is strange what a sultry oppression hangs over all nature; we feel the actual weight of this thick heavy atmosphere."

"Our poor soldiers---what they must suffer from marching in this heat!"

cried Helena, sighing.

"In those days I feel how doubly happy I am," said the candidate, "when I think of my peaceful and spiritual calling, and contrast it with the useless and really reprehensible employment of the soldiers, and all they must now undergo."

"Useless and reprehensible!" cried Helena, gazing at him with her great eyes; "do you call it useless to fight for your king and your country?"

"Not according to the views of the world," he said sanctimoniously; "all these people are doing their duty according to their lights; but the king himself is reprehensible, and the sacrifices they make for him are useless, for what will they gain? Oh! it is a n.o.bler fight, and more pleasing to G.o.d, to struggle with spiritual weapons against sin and unbelief, and to benefit mankind--as your father does, Helena," he added, "and as I hope to emulate him in doing."

"Certainly it is a n.o.bler calling, beautiful and holy, but a soldier also serves G.o.d when he fights on the side of right," said the young girl warmly.

"Which side is right?" asked the candidate; "both sides call on the G.o.d of battles, and very often what is evidently the wrong side conquers."

"For a soldier," cried Helena, "that side is the right which his duty and the oath plighted to his sovereign calls upon him to defend."

"Certainly, certainly," said the candidate, as if agreeing with her; "but women should feel greater interest in peaceful and beneficial usefulness,--what help, for instance, can a soldier be to his wife and children? at any moment he may be called away to do battle for the great ones of the earth,--he gives his life for a cause for which he does not care, and his family are left in need and misery."

"And they bear in their hearts the proud consciousness that he for whom they weep is worthy to be called a hero," cried Helena with kindling eyes.

The candidate gave his cousin a reproving look, and said, in a solemn voice,--

"I believe the conflict in G.o.d's service has also its heroes."

"Certainly," said Helena, without embarra.s.sment; "every calling has its own round of duty to fulfil, and we," she added with a smile, "are here to comfort and to help those who are wounded in the battle of life."

And again she dreamily turned her eyes to the distance. After a moment she rose hastily.

"I think," she said, "the heat will be less oppressive out of doors. I will walk to meet my father; he must now be returning." As she put on her straw hat she asked, "Will you come with me, cousin?"

"With the greatest pleasure," he replied eagerly; and they left the parsonage together, taking the road which led to the village.

"I have so greatly enjoyed my life here," said the candidate, after they had walked for a short time in silence, "that I already quite understand the charm of this quiet, peaceful seclusion, and I own myself ready to forego all larger circles of society."

"You see," said Helena merrily, "a short time ago you shuddered at our solitude, as I did at the restless, crowded city. At a time like this,"

she added, with a sigh, "it is hard to be so completely cut off from the world; we literally hear nothing--what has happened to the army and the king?" she said with energy. "Our poor sovereign!"

The candidate was silent.

"Really," he said, after a short pause, continuing his own flow of thought, as if he had not heard his cousin's last words, "really one.

cannot feel solitary here. Your father's conversation, so simple, yet so rich in thoughts, offers greater variety than many an a.s.sembly in the great world; and your society, dear Helena," he added warmly.

She looked at him with astonishment. "My society," she interrupted, with a smile, "cannot compensate for your friends in town; my learning----"

"Your learning!" he exclaimed hastily; "is it learning that charms us in a woman?"

"A certain amount must be needful," said she, half jokingly, "when conversing with a learned man."