I believe that this confidence was genuine, but I also believe that he tried, for my sake, to mitigate the shock which the news about Richard had given me.

It puzzled me how Richard, who did not belong to the combatants, could be captured by the enemy; but Ludwig stopped all brooding over it by saying: "Father, will you accompany me to the capital? I wish to see our amba.s.sador; he must give me all possible a.s.sistance."

In the capital, all the bells were ringing, and at the railroad station "extras" were announced with the Emperor's proclamation. In the midst of a group of people in the street stood a man reading the words of the Emperor. I knew him; it was Loedinger. His voice trembled; and when he had finished, and the joyful crowd marched through the streets, he saw me and embraced me heartily.

"What have we lived to see?" he cried. "Now we can die in peace. But what is the matter with you? Why do you not cheer with us?"

I told him, in a few words, of the capture of my son, and the worst fears which it justified.

Ludwig went at once to his amba.s.sador, and I to the palace to see the Prince, who would doubtless use his influence for the rescue of my son.

In the palace, there was great commotion. They said that no message could be taken to the Prince now, as he was presiding at a session of the Privy Council. I had to wait a long while. In the streets, the rejoicing went on; it could be faintly heard from afar. The whole city was illuminated.

At last I was told that the Prince could not see me today; I must leave my pet.i.tion with the chief of the Cabinet. He was a relative of my son-in-law, and was favorably inclined towards me. He said that from there no effective steps could be taken; that it was the business of the Imperial government, and that I should address myself to the Prussian amba.s.sador, to whom he gave me a few lines. I felt like a beggar who is sent from house to house.

At the Prussian Emba.s.sy, I was informed that the American Minister was attending a conference, and that there was a stranger with him.

I was called in, and found Ludwig with the two amba.s.sadors. All necessary steps had already been agreed upon, and dispatches were at once forwarded to Versailles.

We drove to the station in the American Minister's coach, and Ludwig started for France, at once.

I went to Bertha, and, in spite of the new trouble that poured in upon me, I felt somewhat relieved when with my daughter and her children.

Victor looked splendidly in his cadet uniform. Bertha met me with outstretched arms, saying, "Father, we shall soon have peace, and he is now almost a general."

It was not the least part of my sorrow that I had to inform Bertha of our deep anxiety for Richard. In the gladness of her heart, she ascribed it all to the exaggerated fears of Annette. The human heart is selfish; in moments of great happiness it wants to hear nothing of the sorrows of others, and refuses to believe them.

I was compelled to mar the joy of the proud, loving wife; and when Bertha too was filled with alarm, she pitied Annette even more than her brother. She thought it particularly hard that Annette, who was so good and self-sacrificing, should again and again be overwhelmed with sorrow. She believed that Richard had loved Annette before the death of her husband, and that his repentance and severity towards himself caused him to be so bitter to her. He struggled with his love for the woman on whom his eyes had rested with admiration at a time when such admiration was sinful.

On the other hand her natural good humor and buoyancy of spirits made her confident that Richard would surely soon be saved. Richard always was a lucky fellow. She remembered, from childhood, that once while I was coming down the river on a raft with my raftsmen, Richard stood on sh.o.r.e, and, crying "Father!" rushed out into the stream till the water came up to his chin. Balbina ran to the rescue, and, when he was safely ash.o.r.e he laughed heartily. He had not been conscious of danger or fear.

While Bertha recalled all this, I became more tranquil, and when she expressed her confident hope that we would not live to see another war, I heartily agreed with her.

CHAPTER VII.

It was well that I had come up to the capital, for Parliament had been convoked, in order to consider the new const.i.tution, or rather, the question of giving in our adhesion to the North German Confederation.

I scarcely heard the speeches, and did not have the strength to take the floor myself.

When a vote was at last reached, it went hard with me to vote "aye." In spite of my joy that there was now a United Germany, I had labored too long for the establishment of German landed rights, to content myself without their being embodied in laws.

I was deeply moved by a remark of my old and faithful colleague, Loedinger: "I fear that in the new German const.i.tution, it will only be too evident that the movement which brought it about, was not initiated by the people."

We heard from Annette and Wolfgang, who wrote that they had at last obtained a clue to aid them in the search for Richard. He had, for a long time, been dragged about the country, and had then been sent to the Isles d'Hyeres.

Now, for the first time, I learned the details of his capture. Richard had crossed our lines into the enemy's country, being tempted to do so by a desire to investigate certain points of local history. He was arrested by the _franc tireurs_, who took him for a spy and wanted to shoot him. It was only through the interference of a man who was able to read Richard's journal that he was saved from instant death.

This was all they had been able to discover, up to the arrival of Ludwig, who sent Wolfgang home, and continued the search with Annette.

They were often led astray, and shown prisoners whom they did not know.

They would have liked to console and encourage them by the news of the progress of our victorious armies and the certainty of a speedy peace, but they dared not risk it.

Ludwig added to his letter minute directions concerning the mill.

We were now perfectly safe in pushing the enterprise forward, as Bourbaki's forces had been driven into Switzerland and disarmed.

I could not content myself at the capital, and journeyed homewards. On the way, I met Baron Arven, who had returned from the field seriously ill, and who hoped to regain his health at home. I accompanied him, and found some pleasure in bearing him company in his deserted mansion--his wife was in Rome, both his sons still in the field. "I shall die at home after all," was his invariable answer whenever we attempted to console him. Our excellent physician prepared me for the worst. I was with Arven in his last hour, and was present when his remains were deposited in the family vault.

Joseph came to take me home.

In war times, one's feelings at last become familiarized with death scenes.

I soon again was called upon to take a part in public life.

The election campaign opened. Remminger, who had returned from the field to get cured of severe rheumatism, brought me the paper which represented our party. In it, he was recommended as delegate to the Reichstag from our district, as a man of merit, and of experience in military matters. I did not begrudge him the honor, nor the office. It gave his life a greater value, though I did not know that he ever took any part in political matters, or even showed any desire in that direction.

I thought it remarkable that in the article, particular stress was laid on the fact, that he was a friend and former comrade of my son-in-law, who had so greatly distinguished himself in the three days' battle against Bourbaki.

What motive could there have been for referring to that fact? However, if it could be of any use to the man, I was content.

He asked me whether I had had any hand in the publication of the article. He had never thought of taking part in politics, but if the place were offered him, he would not shirk the duty. I heard that the article was supposed to have emanated either from Joseph or myself.

We inquired at the office, and were informed that the nomination had been sent in with the stamp of our nearest post-office, and with a rather indistinct signature, which might well be Joseph's.

Joseph a.s.serted that Funk was the author. I did not believe it, because the entire article did not contain a single superlative. He never could, even while writing, restrain his peculiar talent for screaming.

Great thoughts stirred the hearts of men, but littleness, cunning, and mischief-making had not ceased either. But what matters it? A tree grows all the same, whether ants and beetles crawl upon it or not.

A second article shortly afterward appeared in the country papers, in which it was said that military despotism had unmasked its batteries.

But the people were awake; the people, who did not pray to the G.o.d whose name is Success; but were true to their own eternal aims and ideas. The clamor of victory must not drown the cries for liberty. We still had approved champions in our midst; our district still owned an independent man of large landed property; he should be deputy; they should be made to see at Berlin what plain, strong men tilled our land.

Joseph a.s.serted that the papers of the popular party wanted to draw me to their side. There were inquiries in the journals from different quarters as to who was meant by "the firm man of solid worth," until he was named at last. It was Schweitzer-Schmalz. As usual, it was claimed that South Germany was the only real Germany, just as peasants were said to be the only genuine people. To-day, the peasants; to-morrow, perhaps the so-called laborer. The red waistcoat of Schweitzer-Schmalz was to do service as the popular flag.

Joseph was filled with anger and disgust, and I urged him to accept the nomination himself. He had much influence, and there were few other men in the district so well thought of as he.

I can say much in Joseph's favor; he wishes to see the state honestly served; but he also likes to attend to his business. Just then, Joseph had indeed a heavy load to carry. He had brought a large squad of foresters from the Tyrol, and had to provide several new teams.

We heard that Schweitzer-Schmalz had, at first, declined the proffered offer; but when he found the election was not to cost him any money, only some little condescension towards the poorer people, a few casks of beer, and, more than all else, strong language against military dictation, he declared his readiness. He was plain spoken, and yet cunning enough to declare, at the valley tavern, that, if he should be defeated it would be more of an honor than a disgrace to him. People would then always say, "Here is the man who ought to have been our deputy at the Reichstag. He is a man of the right sort."

The movement continued. It was a sorrowful spectacle for me, to see how the domestic enemies of the Empire inscribed our Frankfort Const.i.tution on their flag, and cried that it must be accepted without debate. What should be done in case it was not accepted, they would not say; they knew as well as we did, that the adoption of the const.i.tution of 1848 was an impossibility. But they wanted to start an opposition, and to surround it with a halo of glory.

On the last day of February, we received the news that the preliminaries of peace were agreed upon, and our German Emperor announced, "We have arrived at the end of the glorious but b.l.o.o.d.y war which was so wantonly and wickedly forced upon us."

We who lived on the borders were delighted beyond measure to know that Alsace-Lorraine had been brought home to us again; and when I was speaking with my folks about it, Rothfuss remarked:

"Now I know how it worked. Those who live along the Rhine, from Basle downward, felt the way you do, when you lie abed in winter time and have too narrow a blanket. Whenever you move, you are uncovered and get cold. Now we have a good double bed; now we can stretch ourselves, and, over there, stand the Vosges mountains; that is a good solid wall; no draft gets through that."