He hastened to the carriage, the others following him.
In a short time the governor of the castle, Count Alfred Wedel, came out of the station in undress uniform.
He saw with astonishment a crowd of citizens surrounding his carriage as if they wished to block up the road.
"Come, what is going on here?" he asked kindly; "you here, Herr Sonntag? and you too, old Conrad?" and he walked towards the old weather-beaten man, who, with Sonntag, had left the crowd, and going close up to him he offered him his hand.
"Count," said Conrad, the old court saddler, a veteran who had fought in the great wars, and who had been an especial favourite with King Ernest Augustus, who used often to talk to him, and who enjoyed his extremely unceremonious answers, which usually contained a good deal of national wit, "Count," and he pushed aside Herr Sonntag, who was anxious to speak, with his strong hand, "we are all in much trouble and uneasiness about what is going to happen. We do hear, now and then, that war is about to break out, and the king is going to leave us,--that makes all the citizens very uncomfortable about the fate of the town, and we all want to know something for certain."
"Yes," cried the merchant Sonntag, who had freed himself from Conrad's restraining hand, and who now stepped forward; "yes, count, all these gentlemen are very anxious and uneasy, quite ready to lose all courage. I have taken great pains to calm them, but in vain. I pray you, sir, to tell them what is taking place, and what they ought to do."
An expression of anxiety was seen on all the faces as they turned to the handsome, strongly made young man who before replying examined the crowd for a moment with his clear calm gaze.
"What is taking place?" he then said in a loud firm voice; "that is easily told, war stands before the gate, and the king takes the field with the army."
"And leaves us here behind in an open town!" was murmured by the crowd.
A bright flush passed over the young count's brow, and an indignant look flashed from his eyes as he heard the complaint.
"Does not the Hanoverian soldier march and leave his family at home?" he cried. "The queen and the princesses remain here, and I stay with her majesty."
"Ah!" resounded from the crowd, "if the queen stays here it is not so bad a look-out for the city."
"Bad or good, the queen shares your fate, and the king his soldiers'; is that right or wrong? Answer," cried Count Wedel.
"Right," cried old Conrad in a loud voice, and "Yes! yes!" was faintly echoed by the crowd.
"But," added Count Wedel, in a loud and grave voice, "you have asked me what you are to do."
He advanced a step or two, until, he was quite surrounded by the citizens, and he turned his flashing eyes from one to another.
"What!" he cried, "Hanoverian citizens do not know what they are to do when their country is in danger, and their king and the army take the field? Old Conrad can tell you better than I, what he saw in the old times of which I have only heard the history. The army is on the peace foundation," he continued with animation, "everything is wanting, transport, stores, help of all kinds, the cannon have to be taken from the arsenal to the railway station, and Hanoverian citizens stand still to murmur and complain? Get horses and workers, and if the horses will not hold out, we will draw them ourselves, for I will be amongst you as soon as my duty permits. The army takes the field," he continued, "and the commissariat must be organized; are the soldiers to starve? Form committees to provide abundance of food and drink here at the railway station from whence it can be sent off to the different magazines as necessity may arise. And," he cried, "to-day or to-morrow the troops may encounter the enemy, there will be plenty of sick and wounded, and you must prevent your wives from complaining and lamenting. Let them make bandages and scrape lint, it will be wanted; go to my wife, she will advise you how to arrange everything. And further, how often have you played at soldiers at your rifle clubs; now the troops are going, shall the queen remain unguarded in Herrenhausen? Is there no citizen who will keep guard over the queen when the king trusts her to his capital? Now," he added slowly, "I have told you what you have to do, and there is so much to be done, that really there is no time for anyone to stand here to idle and grumble."
The citizens were silent; the little merchant Sonntag examined them with looks of triumph.
Old Conrad scratched behind his ear.
"Donnerwetter!" he broke out at last; "the count speaks the truth, and a shame it is that we old fellows should have to be told all that by a young gentleman. But now come on," he cried in a loud voice, "let us all set to work, let us separate, and assemble the citizens, here is Sonntag who understands it, he shall make the committees, I am off to the arsenal." He walked up to Count Wedel. "You are true Hanoverian blood, count!" he said bluntly, "and you have spoken your mind plainly; but you were quite right, and you shall see the citizens of Hanover on the move--and you old fellow up there!" he cried, taking off his cap and looking up at the bronze statue of King Ernest Augustus, standing in the midst of the square, "you shall see how old Conrad and all the Hanoverians will stand by your son!"
He offered his hand to the count, who shook it heartily.
All the citizens seemed changed as if by magic. The discontent and restlessness had gone from their faces, and their looks expressed high courage and firm determination. They all crowded round Count Wedel as he got into his carriage and offered him their strong hard hands.
The horses started at a rapid pace and the carriage rolled away on the road to Herrenhausen. An hour later the appearance of the town was completely changed.
No longer whispering groups of idlers were seen standing in the streets, everywhere there was intelligent, cheerful, energetic industry, men of all classes, artisans and servants, dragged carriages and hand-barrows laden with arms from the arsenal to the railway. Others brought cartloads of provisions of every kind, some for the consumption of the troops on their journey, some to be forwarded to the different magazines. The women hurried about the streets with light steps and busy looks, making collections and receiving promises of help. The most influential ladies presented themselves at the door of Count Wedel's new imposing-looking house. They were received by the countess, and formed into one large committee.
Old Conrad was at the arsenal assisting in loading the arms, now ordering, now rebuking the unskilful with a round oath, and everywhere, on whatever side you turned, was the merchant Sonntag, paler than usual from excitement, hot with talking so much, ordering, encouraging, animating those around to unceasing and fruitful exertions.
Thus evening fell upon the city, and the sun set for the last time upon the Guelphic king in the castle of his forefathers.
It was nine o'clock when the minister Meding drove rapidly along the broad road, lighted on either side by gas lamps, to Herrenhausen, with the answer to the Prussian ultimatum.
As he mounted the steps, it seemed as if the uneasiness and activity which prevailed in the city had not spread to the palace. The porter stood as usual before his lodge, the servants in their scarlet liveries moved noiselessly through the large vestibules, but on every face appeared deep anxiety.
In the courtyard were several waggons, with lighted lamps, and the under servants were filling them with coffers. With anxious expectation the attendants saw the well-known confidant of the king arrive at so unusual an hour, but severe etiquette prevented a word of inquiry, though the uneasy looks betrayed the fears to which each was a prey.
"Is the king in his cabinet?" inquired Meding.
"His majesty is with the queen."
Meding ascended the stairs to the floor above, which he had so often seen crowded by the brilliant uniforms of officers, and the elegant toilettes of ladies, and which now looked empty and lonely in the light of the candelabra.
Before the door of the queen's apartments her groom of the chambers, with snow-white hair, sat in a large armchair, and the king's groom of the chambers stood beside him.
"Inform his majesty that I am here!" said Herr Meding.
The attendant hesitated a moment.
"Forgive me," he said, "for asking if war is really to break out, and if we shall have the enemy here?"
"It is too true, my dear Mahlmann," said Herr Meding, in a sad voice, "but announce me at once, no time must be lost."
"Oh! my God! what times!" cried the king's groom of the chambers, as he entered the apartments, while the queen's grey-headed servant covered his face with his hands.
Herr Meding following the king's attendant through the large ante-room and was shown at once into the queen's drawing-room. Here all the royal family were assembled round the tea-table.
The king wore a general's uniform, and sat beside the queen smiling and cheerful; she commanded herself and repressed the tears she could hardly refrain from shedding. Next the queen sat the Princess Marie, a slender maiden of seventeen, with beautiful and noble features, and large blue enthusiastic eyes; less accustomed to self-command than her mother, she could not help weeping, and her handkerchief had frequently to be applied to prevent her tears from falling. On the other side of the king sat his eldest daughter, the Princess Frederika; fair, tall, and slender, she greatly resembled her sister, but her face possessed her father's noble expression, and although she was entirely without haughtiness or self-esteem, her whole bearing, her every movement, bore witness to her royal birth. She did not weep, her large clear blue eyes looked proud and brave, sometimes the beautiful teeth bit the full fresh lips, and in her heart she longed to accompany her father to the field of battle, and dreaded remaining at home in solitary idleness, waiting for tidings of the fate of the army and of her country.
Opposite to her sat, or rather lay back in his chair, the Crown Prince Ernest Augustus, a large tall young man of one-and-twenty. His face had not the smallest resemblance to his father's. A low retreating forehead was almost concealed by his thick smooth brown hair. His nose deeply indented at the bridge was almost flat to his face, and his large mouth with its full rosy lips seemed to move with difficulty over his slowly spoken words. Beautiful teeth and bright good-natured eyes, however, gave a certain charm to the young prince's appearance.
The crown prince wore the uniform of the Guard Hussars, a blue coat ornamented with silver braid, he bit the nails of his left hand, while with his right he patted a little terrier, which appeared devoted to him.
Such was the picture which met Meding's eyes as he entered the room.
With a sigh he looked at the royal family, and he then walked up to the king.
"Good evening, my dear Meding," cried the king in his usual voice. "You bring our answer to Prussia: I hope it is clear and decided?"
"I hope I shall have fulfilled your majesty's wishes," replied Herr Meding as he bowed.
"Do you wish us to leave you?" asked the queen.
"No!" cried the king, "you are all as much interested in this matter as I am. Meding will be so kind as to read us the draft. Seat yourself, my dear Meding, and begin."
"Certainly, your majesty."
Herr Meding seated himself opposite to the king, opened his folded paper, and read the draft.
The king leant back in his chair, and covered his face with his hands, as was his custom when he wished to listen attentively.
The queen and Princess Marie wept quietly, Princess Frederika listened to every word with earnest attention and flashing eyes. The crown prince played with his terrier.
Meding read slowly and distinctly, pausing at every fresh point in the draft.
It set forth in very quiet, measured terms, the reasons wherefore the king could not accept an alliance with Prussia on the foundation of the project of reform, repeated a decided promise of neutrality, and added the king's determination never to fight with any German power, unless his kingdom was invaded, and he found himself compelled to defend it. It concluded with the hope that the friendly relations between Hanover and Prussia might remain undisturbed.
The king listened to the end in silence. As Meding ceased he raised his head.
"You have expressed my intentions admirably," he said, "I desire to add nothing and to take nothing away. But ought not the words in which we decline the Prussian proposals to be even more sharp and plain, lest they should entertain the idea of my being brought round to join in that reform-project? That would not be worthy conduct nor honourable to Prussia."
"I believe, your majesty," replied Meding, "the answer leaves not the smallest doubt on this point. The quiet and conciliatory tone throughout your reply will, however, amply prove your majesty's great desire to preserve peace if possible."
"Yes! certainly," cried the queen with animation.
"If it be possible," added the king, as he drew a deep breath.
"I beg you, my dear Meding, to read the draught again. Forgive me for troubling you so much, but the matter is of sufficient importance to be read twice."
"Oh! I beg your majesty----" exclaimed Herr Meding. He again read the reply.
"It shall remain as it is," cried the king as he concluded: "I have nothing to alter. What do you say?" he continued, turning to the queen, "I beg you, and all of you, to give your opinion, for you are in the highest degree interested."
"It must be so!" said the queen in a voice choked with tears.
"And you, Ernest?" said the king, turning to the crown prince, "have you anything to suggest?"
"No!" said the crown prince with a sigh, as he lifted his little dog on to his knees and stroked its head.
"And you two?" asked the king.
"No!" replied Princess Frederika, as she proudly raised her head, and "No" sobbed her younger sister.
"Well, then, the thing is decided!" exclaimed the king quite cheerfully. "I have commanded the concentration of the army in Göttingen," he added, turning to Meding, "by my generals' advice, that they may march thence to the south. I shall start at two o'clock. I beg you, my dear Meding to drive to General Brandis and to Count Platen; request them to be ready for the journey, and tell them to meet me at the railway station at two tonight. I must ask you also to make your preparations and to accompany me; I shall need you. You will have but little time!" he added considerately.
"Oh! fully enough, your majesty," replied Meding.
"I believe," said the king to his son, "that you must yourself give the orders necessary to prevent any of your equipments being forgotten. And now, my dear Meding, give me the answer, that I may sign it."
Meding took a pen from the queen's writing-table, gave it to the king and placed his hand upon the white margin of the paper.
In firm bold characters the king wrote his initials, "G. R."
"Add to it," he said, "the exact hour, that we may know hereafter when I completed this decisive and important document."
Meding looked at his watch; it was twelve minutes past midnight. He added the exact date below the king's signature.
"I must now beg your majesty's permission to go," he said, "for time presses." He turned to the queen. "Allow me, your majesty, to offer my truest sympathy, and my most sincere hopes, that you may pass safely through the dark days before us. May God bless your majesty, and may He guide events to a happy issue."
The queen bent her head and covered her face with her handkerchief.
"Auf Wiedersehn!" cried the king, and with a low bow Meding withdrew.
In the ante-room he met a young man dressed in the uniform of the Garde du corps.
He was tall and slight, with merry, pleasing features and large clear eyes, it was Prince George of Solms Braunfels, the king's nephew. He held out his hand to Meding and cried:
"Well, is everything settled, and is war decided upon?"
"I am taking back the answer to the Prussian note!" said Meding gravely, looking at the folded paper in his hand.
The prince looked serious too for a moment.
"Do you know," he then said, "what you remind me of? Of Davison, Queen Elizabeth's secretary, carrying the death warrant!"
Meding gave a melancholy smile.
"Alas!" he said, "the sheet of paper in my hand is perhaps the death warrant of many a brave heart now beating joyfully; thank God I am not answerable for it, I have only to perform my duty, which I never felt to be so painful as now. We shall meet in Göttingen, prince," he said, taking leave with a hasty pressure of the hand, he then hurried down the stairs and threw himself into his carriage.
Just at the brightly lighted, gilded iron gate of the outer court he met a long row of carriages driving to the castle.
The magistrates and the principal burghers of the capital were coming to take leave of the king. As the long file of carriages emerged from the avenue, they looked so dark against the bright light that they resembled a long black funeral, and shuddering involuntarily at this idea Meding leant back in his carriage and drove towards Hanover.
In the meantime Count Platen sat in his cabinet. A small lamp shed its light over the writing table covered, with letters and papers, before which he sat, his head leaning on his hand.
"Is there really no escape?" he cried at last, as he rose and paced up and down the room; "can we not recover the fine position we held?"
He looked thoughtfully from the window out into the warm starlight night.
"The concentration of the army is good," he said, "it shows we are in earnest, and not inclined to give way without resistance: that the king should go, is also good--it makes negotiation easier. Well, I believe," he cried in a tone of relief, "they will bethink themselves in Berlin after firing off this alarm gun, and will be satisfied if we accept neutrality. But even if we are obliged--they cannot abandon us in Vienna--and if Austria conquers!" A happy smile passed over his face, and flattering pictures of the future seemed unrolled before his mind.
The timepiece on his writing-table struck twelve.
"Prince Ysenburg!" announced the groom of the chambers.
"Now, at this hour?" cried Count Platen, starting back. And he hastened to meet the Prussian ambassador, who had entered the room, and advanced slowly and gravely. "What good news do you bring at this late hour, dear prince?" he asked.
"Whether I can bring good news, I know not!" replied the prince, a small slight man, with regular features and a spare black moustache, as he fixed his black eyes with a sad and enquiring look upon Count Platen; "I must first beg for your answer to the note I delivered this morning, the reply to which I was to wait for until this evening. You see," he said drawing out his watch, "I have given my instructions the widest possible extension; it is now twelve o'clock--the day is ended."
"My dear prince," said Count Platen, "I gave the note to the king immediately, the reply is now with his majesty; I expect it back every moment, and I do not doubt we shall easily come to an understanding."
The prince shook his head slightly.
"Though the answer is with his majesty, yet you must know, and I must"--he laid a stress upon the word--"urgently beg you to impart its purport. Is the proposition accepted, are you authorized to conclude the proffered treaty?"
"You will allow," said Count Platen, "that such a deeply important proposal as the reform of the confederation requires a discussion that will occupy some time."
"I must press you, Count Platen," said the prince, "to give me a distinct answer upon one point,--I am not authorized to commence a discussion,--has the king accepted the treaty or not?"
"No," said Count Platen, with great hesitation, "but----"
"Then I declare war!" said Prince Ysenburg solemnly.
Count Platen stared blankly in his face.
"But my dear prince--" he cried.
"You must perceive," said Prince Ysenburg, "that after such a declaration it is impossible for me to say anything more, except to express my deep personal regret that our long years of intimacy, on which I shall always look back with pleasure, should have so sad an end. Farewell! remember me with the same friendship with which I shall always think of you."
He held out his hand to Count Platen, who seized it mechanically, and before the minister had recovered from his astonishment the ambassador had left the room.
A short time afterwards, Meding arrived, and found him still under the influence of this scene. He brought the minister the king's commands to accompany him to Göttingen, and Count Platen imparted the declaration of war.
"Did you ever doubt it?" asked Meding.
"I considered it impossible!" said Count Platen; "and I yet hope we may be able to do something in Göttingen."
"There is nothing to be done, except to march as fast as we can for South Germany!" said the privy councillor.
He left the minister, to prepare for his journey, and hastened to seek General Brandis.
Herr Beckmann had come to Hanover with the courier from Berlin, and he discovered to his great discontent that he could not set out again upon his already retarded journey, until various trains containing troops had been despatched from the railway station.
It was two in the morning.
He walked disconsolately up and down the platform, wrapped himself shiveringly in his large travelling cloak, smoked his cigar, and looked at the busy proceedings in the railway station.
There was a train with a steaming engine close to the platform; it consisted of only a few carriages, but in the centre there was a large saloon carriage richly gilt, and surmounted by a crown.
"What is that?" asked Herr Beckmann as a busy porter hurried past.
"The king is going to Göttingen," he replied, and hastened on.
Herr Beckmann walked up to the saloon carriage and examined it.
"It is true," he said, "the king must really be starting; but," he added, "it does not look like a flight, the soldiers, at all events, seem to have no mind to fly."
Notwithstanding the late hour the platform grew more and more crowded with people, who waited quietly near the royal train.
Then the large doors of the royal waiting-room opened, and Count Platen, a number of generals, Lex, and Herr Meding appeared. They all seemed grave and silent.
The wheels of other carriages were heard.
There was a movement amongst the gentlemen in the waiting-room, and the crowd on the platform pressed towards the open door.
The king entered, dressed in a general's uniform, leaning on the arm of the crown prince, who wore a hussar's uniform. They were followed by lieutenant-colonels von Heimbruch and von Kohlrausch, and by Major Wedel.
The king gravely greeted those who had assembled to take leave of him, he conversed with several of the gentlemen and shook hands with them.
The general director of the railway came up and said that the train was ready.
The king and the crown prince walked across the platform and entered the railway carriage.
Every head was uncovered, and a sorrowful murmur passed through the assembled crowd.
The king was followed by the gentlemen of his suite. The crowd thickened around the carriage.
Then George V. appeared at the middle window, bowed, and said in his clear voice:
"I say farewell to the citizens of my capital, because I must accompany my army to resist unjust demands. My queen and the princesses I confide to your protection; they will share your fate. God be with you, and with our just cause!"
"God save the king!" cried the crowd; "auf Wiedersehn! auf Wiedersehn. God bless your majesty!" Handkerchiefs waved, and hats rose higher and higher.
Herr Beckmann stood in the outer row. Tears shone in his eyes, he raised his hat in the air and his voice joined in the general cry with which the citizens of Hanover took leave of their king.
The train moved slowly, the engine puffed, the wheels rolled faster, and there was one general cry: "Auf Wiedersehn!" The carriage rushed on, the king had left the capital.
The generals and court officials slowly departed, the crowd slowly and silently dispersed, and Herr Beckmann paced thoughtfully up and down the platform.
"Tiens, tiens," said he to himself, "voilà le revers de la médaille. What will not this war destroy? how deeply will it cut into human life, both high and low! Great events lie in the lap of the future: yes, but tears also--did not my eyes grow wet when the king took leave of his people. Well! what must happen, will happen, an individual can neither add nor take away. Fate seizes on us all!"
"The train is starting for Cologne," said a porter coming up to him.
"At last!" cried Herr Beckmann with a sigh of relief; and the whistling, puffing engine soon bore him away.
King George V. arrived in Göttingen early in the morning of the 16th of June, to the no small amazement of the inhabitants, who had scarcely comprehended the grave position of the country the evening before, and arose the next day to discover that war had broken out, that the king was installed in the Crown Hotel, and the army concentrating in hot haste in and around Göttingen.
The old city of Georgia Augusta had scarcely ever before seen such varied active life within its walls.
Fresh troops perpetually poured in through the gates of the town, or from the railway station; some taking up their quarters in the city, some in the surrounding villages.
All the soldiers were adorned with fresh sprigs of oak, the proud cavalry regiments rode gallantly on, batteries of artillery rolled noisily over the pavement, and merry songs resounded from every regiment of the war-inspired troops.
In front of the Crown Hotel the greatest activity prevailed. Orderlies of the red hussars of the Guard were halted, waiting to convey orders; aides-de-camp went and came, servants hurried busily to and fro, groups of citizens stood whispering together, and looking curiously at the middle window of the first floor, where was the king's apartment.
But a fresh regiment streamed in, and shortly before it reached the hotel struck up the air of "God save the king;" the window was opened, and the king appeared in a general's uniform and military cap, grave and quiet; he affectionately greeted the troops who came at his summons to follow him to the field, and their banners were lowered to their royal leader. The old Hanoverian Hurrah! burst out so loudly and joyfully that it made the windows clatter, and the king's heart beat higher, for he could hear that the shout came from the hearts of soldiers who were ready cheerfully to pour out their blood in his defence.
About nine o'clock the Senate of the University appeared, headed by the pro-rector, the famous professor of state law, Zachariä; the black robes adorned with the colours of the different faculties, and the almost priestly appearance of the professors of wisdom, who came to greet their king in the midst of the tumult of war, lent a new charm to the animated changing picture, as they mingled with the brilliant uniforms of the soldiers.
The king had received the professors, had worked with the adjutant-generals, and with General Gebser, whom he had appointed commander-in-chief of the army, and he now sat alone in his room.
His face was pale and weary from the distress and excitement of the last few days, and from a sleepless night, but indomitable courage and firm determination shone in his eyes.
The groom of the chambers opened the door and announced the crown prince.
The king held out his hand affectionately to his son, who kissed it reverently.
"Have you slept?" asked the king.
"But little," replied the prince, whose features, impressed by the moving noisy life around him, were more animated than usual; "I have been talking with many of the officers of the troops who have just arrived."
"There is a glorious spirit in the army, is there not?" cried the king with joyful enthusiasm; "it makes me too happy to be surrounded by such troops."
"Yes," replied the prince with hesitation, "the spirit is excellent; but----"
"But what?" asked the king, surprised and hurt, "have you observed anything that does not accord with this spirit?"
"The spirit is perfectly excellent, my father," replied the prince slowly, pausing as he spoke as if he could not find the right words; "but--but there is no proper confidence in their leaders!"
"No confidence in their leaders!" cried the king energetically, as he stood up; "at the beginning of a campaign that were bad indeed!"
He was silent for a moment.
"Are you quite sure?" he asked. "Who told you so?"
"Several officers of the general staff," replied the prince, "the aides-de-camp, and they begged me to tell you."
"So!" said the king. "And in whom have they no confidence?--did they mention any names?"
"They do not think," replied the prince, "that General Gebser has energy enough to command in the field, and his name is not popular amongst the soldiers, and General Tschirschnitz is too old to bear the fatigues of war, and too much accustomed to office life----"
With a hasty movement the king passed his hand over the table before him and rang the bell that stood upon it.
"The equerry on duty!" exclaimed the king to the attendant who came at the summons.
Immediately afterwards Count Wedel, the brother of the commander of the castle, entered.
"Your majesty sent for me?"
"My dear Wedel," said the king, "the crown prince has just told me, as was his duty, that the officers and the troops have no confidence in General Gebser, whom I have appointed to the command of the army, and that they also have not the confidence needful in the adjutant-general. The moment is grave. Tell me, as my equerry and my officer, on your oath and your duty, what you know on the subject."
Count Wedel, a handsome powerfully made man, with short black hair and a black beard, fixed his large dark eyes upon the king, and said firmly in a clear voice:
"What his royal highness has told your majesty is, so far as I have had the opportunity of judging of the general opinion, perfectly true!"
The king sat still for a moment in deep thought.
"And you have heard it from good and clever officers?" he asked.
"From the officers of the general staff," replied Count Wedel, "and from several other officers with whom I have conversed."
"And whom would the army trust as their leader?" asked the king.
"General von Arentschildt!" replied Count Wedel without a moment's hesitation.
"I thank you," replied the king gravely; "beg General von Brandis and Count Platen to come to me."
"At your command, your majesty."
And Count Wedel left the room.
"This is bad, very bad!" said the king sorrowfully, "for an army that has no confidence in its leaders is already half beaten; but it is well I learnt it whilst there is still time."
The crown prince had stepped to the window and was looking at the various groups in the street below.
The two ministers entered, General von Brandis calm and cheerful as ever, Count Platen pale and excited.
"Gentlemen," said the king, "I hear that the adjutant-general, and the general I have chosen to command the army, do not possess the confidence of the troops."
He was silent.
"Alas! it is so, your majesty; I have heard it on all sides," said Count Platen.
"And you, General Brandis?"
"Your majesty," said the general in his calm voice, "I have heard many such expressions here, I cannot deny, but if every expression uttered in a time of excitement were attended to, the command would be continually changed. The chief thing seems to me that we should be well commanded, and get on quickly."
"I do not think much of what is said here and there," said the king, "but this appears to me serious, and truly I would not send my army into the field without confidence in its leaders."
"Certainly, your majesty, the matter is serious," said Count Platen. "It is most painful to me," he continued, "to express my opinion on military affairs, as they by no means belong to my department, and as your majesty knows I am never in any degree influenced by the opinions I hear casually----"
General Brandis smiled slightly.
"But here," added Count Platen, "is evidently an occasion on which the general opinion must be right."
"Have you, too, heard General von Arentschildt named?"
"He is named universally, your majesty," replied Count Platen.
General Brandis was silent.
"I know so little of Arentschildt," said the king, thoughtfully; "what do you think of him, General Brandis?"
"Arentschildt is a clever general, and an honourable man," said the minister of war.
"Do you think he is the man to command the army?" asked the king.
"Your majesty, the proof of a general is his success. I am an old soldier, and I can only judge of a soldier in the field."
The king leant his head on his hand and sat for some time in silence.
At last he raised himself.
"My country and the whole future of my family are at stake," he said seriously. "I must sacrifice my personal wishes and opinions, where such great interests are concerned. I could never forgive myself if success were imperilled through my own fault; no time must be lost, the decision must be made at once. My poor brave Tschirschnitz," he said in a low voice, shaking his head; "it will be a heavy blow to him. Whom do they feel confidence in as adjutant-general?" he inquired.
"They speak of Colonel Dammers," said the crown prince, who had left the window and again approached the king.
"Colonel Dammers?" asked the king.
"A clever and energetic officer," said General Brandis, "a man of quick and ready action."
"I have conversed with him," said Count Platen, "he is a remarkably intelligent man. I unfolded to him the policy we have lately pursued, he fully recognized its propriety. I believe----"
"Is the colonel here?" asked the king.
"He was in the house just now," said the crown prince.
The king rang.
"Beg General Gebser and the adjutant-general to come to me," he said, sighing.
The two gentlemen entered the room.
General Gebser was of a tall and graceful figure, his boldly-cut features had a free open expression, and his hair and moustache were slightly grey. General von Tschirschnitz held a paper in his hand.
"My dear General Gebser, and you my adjutant-general," said the king with emotion, "I have something most serious to say to you. I have to demand from you a fresh proof of your patriotism and of your devotion to me and to my family."
General Gebser looked firmly at the king; old General von Tschirschnitz lifted his astonished gaze from the paper he held in his hand to his royal master, as if he marvelled what further proof of devotion could be expected from him.
"In an hour such as this," continued the king, "plain and straightforward speaking is necessary. I hear that the army does not confirm the choice I made, General Gebser, when I nominated you as its commander, and that another name is more popular than your own amongst the soldiers. Also," he added, "I hear that fears are expressed lest you, my dear adjutant-general, should be disabled by increasing years from undergoing the fatigue which, will doubtless be needful during a difficult and exhausting campaign. Should your health fail there would be an interruption in your duties, which could not but be dangerous and disastrous to an army on the march. Gentlemen," he said in a low tone, bowing his head as if he wished with his sightless eyes to discover the impression caused by his words; "you know that I am ready to sacrifice my life, and every personal wish to my country. I know that you have the same feelings, and that from your true hearts I may ask the same sacrifice. I, your king, acknowledging and prizing your services and your talents, I beg you to make this sacrifice."
The king was silent, a deep sigh broke from his heart.
General Gebser raised his head proudly, and a smile came to his lips. Pale, but without hesitation, he advanced towards the king, and said in a firm voice:
"It was my duty, at my royal master's command to lead the army against his enemies, and to draw my sword in defence of my country. It is equally my duty, if your majesty has found one more worthy, to resign the command. I thank you for the confidence you felt in me."
"Which has never been shaken for a moment," interrupted the king.
"And I hope," added the general, "that he who succeeds me will serve your majesty and the country with the same zeal and devotion. I know it will be so," he continued, "for he is a Hanoverian officer."
The king held out his hand to him in silence, and without glancing at the crown prince, or the ministers, with a firm step the general left the room.
General von Tschirschnitz gnawed his white moustache in great emotion. A tear shone in his eye.
"Your majesty," he said slowly, "this is not the time and place to examine into the reasons of those who are so careful to protect my old age from the fatigues of war. I have nothing to do but to request your majesty to allow me to resign the post of adjutant-general. Your majesty knows I have already requested permission to retire, in time of peace,--that I must do so now, when the army is marching to meet the enemy, is a deep grief to the heart of an old soldier. Perhaps the recollection of this," and he pointed to the Waterloo medal upon his breast, "might have enabled me in spite of my age to bear the fatigues of war; but it is a law of nature that the old should give way to the young. I beg your majesty to preserve a gracious remembrance of your old adjutant-general."
The old gentleman's rough soldier voice failed him.
The king went quickly up to him, and spread out his arms.
"We will not say adieu, my dear Tschirschnitz," he cried; "I hope we shall meet happily and soon, when this sad war is over, and that you will give me your valued counsels for many years."
And he pressed the general to his heart.
"Accept the nomination of general of the infantry as a proof of my gratitude and affection," he said in a low voice.
The general bowed in silence.
"Your majesty will permit me," he then said, "to return to Hanover? An old invalid can do nothing against the enemy," he added bitterly.
"Go, my dear general," said the king; "the queen needs the advice of true servants."
The crown prince came forward.
"I beg you to greet my mother from me," he said affectionately.
"Farewell, your royal highness," replied the general; "you see an old servant of your father, and of your grandfather, depart. So do the old times vanish: may the future bring new men, but guard the old truth."
And the general also left the room.
The king drew a deep breath.
"So," he cried, "the worst is over. Now for the new appointments, and God grant the choice may be happy. General Brandis, will you prepare the papers?" he said, turning to the minister of war, "and see that General Arentschildt comes to me immediately to receive the command; and also Colonel Dammers, that he may at once commence the duties of adjutant-general."
Gravely and silently the general withdrew.
Count Platen approached the king, and said,--
"Count Ingelheim had just arrived when your majesty sent for me. He requests an audience."
"Let him come," cried the king with satisfaction.
Count Platen went out, and soon returned, accompanied by the ambassador of the Emperor Francis-Joseph.
Count Ingelheim was a tall, slender man of fifty-eight years of age, with short, light hair, which was changing to grey. His amiable and pleasing face was pale, and without beard or moustache. He wore black, with the star of the Order of Guelph and the Maltese cross.
"I am rejoiced, my dear count, to see you here," cried the king cheerfully. "You have not, then, shunned the tumult of war?"
"Your majesty," replied the count, "my imperial master commanded me not to leave you, and especially to accompany the army--a command in accordance with my most earnest wishes, for besides being the fortunate witness of the heroic deeds of the brave Hanoverian army, the cause here is the same as in the Austrian camp--the cause of justice and of Austrian independence. I beg your majesty's permission to remain at head-quarters."
"With the greatest pleasure, my dear count, I offer you the hospitality of my head-quarters," cried the king. "You will, perhaps," he added, smiling, "during your military campaign, have to excuse the dinners we shall offer you, but à la guerre comme à la guerre. We are going to encounter great events," he continued gravely.
"They will doubtless bring great glory and enduring happiness to your majesty," said Count Ingelheim.
"Do you think we shall be able to reach South Germany?" asked the king.
"I am sure of it," replied the count, "according to all the information I have received. And I have just had a note from Count Paar who is in Cassel. The road is free, and the few Prussian troops who may be there will be unable to arrest the march of your majesty's army."
"I would the next few days were over," said the king gloomily; "the cares of the march weigh heavily upon me, and I cannot bear to think that we may be surrounded by superior forces."
"Your brave army would fight its way through if needful," cried the count. "I cannot doubt it, for I saw them on my journey here; but above all, let your majesty remember you do not stand alone; the decisive action must take place on a Saxon battle-field, and when the emperor has fought there and won, your majesty will return in triumph to your capital."
The king was silent.
"The great thing would be," he said, after a pause, "to reach Bavaria. If we succeed in this, the army is saved, and will be free to take a part in the great struggle on the fate of Germany. We must know exactly where the Bavarian army is."
"According to what I heard yesterday, the Bavarian outposts are near Eisenach and Gotha," said Count Ingelheim.
"Well, then, the union would not be difficult. But would it not be well to let the Bavarian head-quarters know where we are, and our line of march, that they may direct their operations accordingly?"
"Doubtless, your majesty," said Count Platen, "as soon as the new commander and the general staff have completely decided on our march."
"It seems to me," said the king, "that in our present circumstances we should follow the simple plan of taking the easiest and shortest line of march."
"I do not know," replied Count Platen; "to me it appears there are many different views and opinions to be considered, which may be difficult to reconcile."
"Difficult to reconcile! I do not understand why," exclaimed the king; "but," he continued, half to himself, in a melancholy voice, "I must leave that to my generals. Pray take care, Count Platen, that trustworthy and intelligent persons are sent on by the roads leading to the south, with instructions to discover if the enemy's troops are there, and in what numbers."
"At your command, your majesty."
"Are there any news from Hesse?" asked the king.
"Yes, your majesty, up to yesterday," said Count Ingelheim. "The prince had determined to remain in Cassel. The army is under the command of General Lothberg, and is concentrated at Fulda."
"We must join it there," cried the king. "United to the army of Hesse, we should form a force capable of serious resistance, and we should not easily be brought to a halt."
The groom of the chambers announced the minister of war.
"General Arentschildt and Colonel Dammers await your majesty's commands," said General Brandis; "and here are the necessary papers," he added.
"Ask the gentlemen to come in," cried the king. "My dear count, we shall meet at dinner, if I may make the request, in campaigning costume."
He held out his hand to the Austrian ambassador.
"Count Platen, I commit Count Ingelheim to your care, trusting he may find all the comforts our headquarters afford."
The two gentlemen withdrew. At the door they met the officers.
General von Arentschildt was not tall, but remarkably thin, with sharply-marked, somewhat withered features, and an enormous grey moustache, hanging completely over the mouth. He entered the room first, and was closely followed by Colonel Dammers, a man who was still young, extremely fair, with a red fresh colour, and quick energetic movements. His clear grey eyes took in everything with a sharp firm glance, and were then fixed expectantly upon the king.
They were followed by General Brandis.
"Gentlemen," said George V. gravely, and with a certain degree of proud reserve, "my minister of war has imparted to you why I have sent for you at this moment, so full of danger to myself and the country. I am persuaded that the confidence in you, so universally expressed, and of which I give so signal a proof, will be completely justified. I beg you to commence your duties without delay; and I request you, General von Arentschildt, to give us your opinion upon our further march as soon as possible."
"Your majesty," exclaimed the general, striking his hand vehemently upon his breast,--"Your majesty, I am highly honoured by your confidence, and I will do everything an old soldier can do, to justify it. I beg your majesty----"
"What?" asked the king.
"To give me Colonel Cordemann as chief of the general staff."
The king was silent for a moment.
"A new chief of the general staff too," he said, half speaking to himself. "It is right," he continued, "for you to have a chief of the staff of your own choosing. Colonel Dammers, will you prepare what is needful? and will you, General Brandis, inform General von Sichart in the most considerate manner----"
"The general has sought me already, requesting me to bid your majesty adieu for him," replied General Brandis.
"Brave man!" cried the king. "But I will see him shortly, and take leave of him personally. And now, gentlemen, to work. Ernest, I beg you to send me the privy councillor."
The crown prince and the officers left the room.
With a deep sigh the king leant back in his chair. He listened thoughtfully to the sounds of voices and footsteps which rose from the street below, mingled with military signals, the trampling of horses, and the trumpet calls, and he whispered to himself:
"Nec aspera terrent!"
The newly-organized general staff was installed in the aula of the university, and worked unceasingly at the mobilization of the army, and the preparations for its march.
Whilst the whole town was thus feverishly restless and active, a carriage drove quickly to the railway station.
In it sat old General von Tschirschnitz with folded arms, gazing gloomily before him.
"This, then, is the end of a long service commenced on the battle-fields of 1813, and continued through many a year of war and peace,--and now to be sent off when before the enemy,--and why? because certain young officers, ambitious climbers, wish to have the road open, and seize the opportunity of freeing themselves from the firm strict rule of old Tschirschnitz."
He took up his sword, and laid it on the opposite side of the carriage.
"Lie there," he said gloomily, "thou worthy old sword; thou art too stiff and too straight for the present generation,--they write a great deal, also they run to and fro continually,--they make plans, they proclaim orders and counter-orders, but they don't trouble themselves about the soldiers; they will not march, and they will only fight when they are obliged. But," he said with a deep breath, "the army will fight, the troops will rush at the enemy if they meet, in spite of instructions and theories--of that I am sure."
He had arrived at the railway, and as he was stepping, sabre in hand, into an empty train, about to return to Hanover for more troops, the Cambridge dragoon regiment drew up with clattering of arms in the court of the station under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Kielmansegge, who was at their head on a snorting spirited horse, and who was about to lead his regiment through the town to the villages of Harste and Gladebeck lying before Göttingen.
The old general looked from his coupé affectionately at the flashing arms of the gallant horsemen.
Then he leant back with a melancholy smile, the engine whistled, and the train rushed towards Hanover.
At the same moment the trumpet sounded, the strains of the regimental band rose in the air, the horses threw up their heads, their riders settled themselves in the saddle, the ranks closed up, and the glorious regiment rode through the city of Georgia Augusta.
In front of the fourth squadron, on a curveting horse, rode a tall handsome man, the Rittmeister von Einem,[8] and beside his troop rode Lieutenant von Wendenstein, looking fresh, and dazzling in full uniform. His eyes shone brightly, and it was evident that only duty constrained him to keep his place in the line, and restrain his spirited horse; he would rather have rushed in a wild gallop straight at the enemy. Yet a low sad strain rang in his heart when he thought of the old house in Blechow,--of the last evening amongst his family, and of the song which had so strangely affected him,--yet still this strain mingled harmoniously with the warlike fanfare of the trumpets, with the neighing of horses, and the clashing of arms,--his eyes flashed in the sunshine, and his lips smiled as he whispered the hopeful words, "Auf Wiedersehn!"
The regiment rode past the Crown Hotel; the squadrons greeted the king at the window with an echoing hurrah, then they rode out by the further gate to the villages, where the peasants gave them a hearty welcome, for the Hanoverian cavalry is always popular with the Hanoverian peasantry; how much the more now, when the brave horsemen were riding out with their king?
The fourth squadron remained in the village of Gladebeck on outpost duty.
The horses were foddered and provided with straw, according to the rules of the service and the heart of the cavalry soldier, whose first care is always for his horse.
A cheerful fire burned in the street of the village, which stands at the foot of a hill overlooking a broad plain of meadows and orchards. Below, the lights from the village windows gleamed through the clear night, and in the distance echoing voices were heard, with signals, and trampling horse-hoofs. The dark sky glittered with stars, and the soft night-wind blew refreshingly over the fields after the heat of the day.
Upon the hill a single vedette stood motionless, a carbineer named Schenkel.
Before the fire, upon a heap of clean well-piled straw, lay two young officers, Lieutenants von Wendenstein and Stolzenberg. The water in a campaigning kettle bubbled and steamed; brandy, lemons and great lumps of sugar were abundant, and Lieutenant von Stolzenberg, a handsome, pleasing-looking young man, prepared in two silver beakers the fragrant invigorating drink which inspired Schiller in his immortal song. Ham, bread, and sausages lay around, proving that the peasants of Gladebeck had treated their guests to all that their store-chambers could afford.
Stolzenberg mixed the beverage, tasted it, and passed the cup to his comrade after he had stirred it with a piece of wood.
"Do you believe in presentiments, Wendenstein?" he asked.
"I really scarcely know," replied that young gentleman, raising himself from the comfortable position in which he lay gazing up at the sky, to take the cup and drink a hearty draught,--"I really scarcely know, I have never thought about it; but," he added, laughing, as he placed the cup conveniently before him on the ground, "I should like to believe, for if a presentiment is a certain indescribable feeling that penetrates us and gives us a peep into the magic mirror of the future, my future must be bright and clear; everything smiles upon me so merrily that I could gallop for miles to-night for the simple pleasure of the thing. You see, Stolzenberg," said he, drawing a cigar from his pocket and carefully cutting the end with a small knife, "it is such a pleasure to escape from that weary garrison-life, and to go into the field to a real actual war; such a night as this, old fellow, in bivouac under the open sky, is the most delightful thing a soldier can wish for. Give me a light for my cigar."
Herr von Stolzenberg gave him a glowing piece of wood, from which with the skill of a connoisseur in the art of smoking he kindled his cigar, the fine aroma of which soon rose in the air.
"Well, and what do your presentiments say, Stolzenberg?" he asked; "or rather, have you had a presentiment?"
Stolzenberg poked the fire with an oak stick and gazed thoughtfully into the blaze.
"Yes," he said gravely.
"Well," cried Wendenstein, "you say so in the tone of the marble guest; speak out and tell me all about it. Drink first and take a good draught, you know some philosopher has said presentiments come from the stomach, and for the stomach nothing is better than to be comforted in moderation with a good drink."
Herr von Stolzenberg took kindly to his friend's didactic advice, and then said, again gazing gravely at the fire,--
"Do you know I feel shy of speaking about it? It is really nothing--neither has a spirit appeared to me, nor have I had a dream, nor is there anything I can really describe. When I was leaving my room quite ready to mount my horse, suddenly an icy coldness passed like an electric spark through all my veins, and a voice seemed to say, 'You will never return.' The impression was so vivid and powerful that I stood still for a moment as if spell-bound. But suddenly the feeling was gone, as if it had never been."
"This is madness!" said Wendenstein leaning his head on his hand and gazing up at the stars; "I remain firm in my opinion that your stomach is out of sorts, and what more natural, after the early rising and fatigue of the day? You must double your dose of punch!"
"And once again," said Stolzenberg thoughtfully, without heeding his friend's jest, "I had the same feeling. As we passed the Crown in Göttingen and the king greeted us from the window, and all our lads hurrahed madly, just as I raised my sword to salute--in that very moment the icy coldness seized me, and again a voice cried: 'You will never return. The king will never return!'" He spoke in a low troubled voice.
"Man, you are raving!" cried Wendenstein, sitting up with a great jerk. "Have as many presentiments about yourself as you please, but leave the king out of the game. Pray oblige me by telling no one else of your hallucinations!"
Stolzenberg gazed straight before him.
"If it is to be so," he said in a low voice, "in God's name it is well; if we come to blows many a brave soldier will fall, and it is our lot; a quick honourable death is all a man can wish, only no long suffering, nor to return a cripple."
"I will answer you no more," said von Wendenstein, "such thoughts are too dismal for a first night in the field. But," he continued sitting up and looking into his friend's face, "I will confide something to you."
And half jesting, half smiling at some happy remembrance, he said,--
"I think I am in love."
"You?" cried von Stolzenberg, laughing, "it would not be for the first time; but the moment is ill-chosen."
"Why?"
"Because a good cavalry soldier when he goes into the field should leave no regrets behind him. Forwards! is the word, and a lover makes a bad soldier."
"I do not understand that," said von Wendenstein; "on the contrary, in battle, how happy it would make a man to feel a heart is beating for him, and following him with thoughts and good wishes, and if he distinguishes himself the brave soldier will feel greater pride, and then when he returns, oh! that must be delicious!"
"When he returns," said Stolzenberg gloomily. "But," he continued in a cheerful voice, "who is your new flame?"
The eyes which von Wendenstein had been directing towards the stars were turned upon his friend with a look of surprise, and he said in a somewhat hurt voice, as he threw himself back in the straw:
"New flame? what an expression! certainly I shall not tell her name!"
"Then you are really in earnest," returned von Stolzenberg. "And now I must prescribe an extra glass of punch; for I retain my opinion that love is a sickness, especially at the beginning of a campaign."
Wendenstein did not reply, but continued attentively to watch the course of the stars, which at the same moment were shining down on the old house at Blechow, upon the old trees and the well-known pastures and fir-woods, and upon the Pfarrhaus with its beds of roses, and he hummed to himself: