Frederick the Great and His Family [243]
and breathless silence ensued. The old man raised his arm and pointed toward the side where the twelve boys stood.
"Come to me, Charles Henry Buschman," he said, solemnly; and as his son advanced rapidly to him, he continued: "I ask you in the name of God, if what you told me yesterday is true? Have you secretly left the flag of your king, our sovereign--the great King Frederick of Prussia? Is it true that you have forsaken your regiment and the flag to which you swore to be faithful?"
"It is true," said Charles Henry, with assumed daring, "but we were not only justified in doing so--our duty compelled us. We are no longer Prussian subjects, but subjects of the King of France. You all heard to-day what the minister read to us in church--how the archbishop commanded us to be faithful to our new sovereign. We could no longer wear the Prussian uniform or be Prussian soldiers, therefore we returned to our village."
"You returned as dishonored, faithless soldiers!" cried the old man, looking angrily at his son--" you returned covered with shame-- miserable deserters--to the disgrace of your fathers, mothers, your brothers, sisters, sweethearts, and your friends. You have deserted the flag of your rightful king, to whom you swore the oath of allegiance--an oath which God received, and which no man can annul. Men of Brunen! shall we stand this shame that our sons bring upon us? Shall the world point their fingers at us and say: 'These are the fathers of soldiers who deserted their regiment, and were false to their king?'"
"No!" cried they all, as with one voice--"no, we will not stand this--we will have no deserters as sons!"
The old man bowed his head in silence; then turned slowly to the side where the women stood.
"Women and maidens of Brunen! Will you allow your sons and brothers who are covered with shame, to stay amongst you? Will you receive the deserters in your houses and at your tables? Will you open your arms to them and call them sons and brothers?"
"No, no!" cried the women and maidens, simultaneously; "we will not receive them in our houses, or at our tables. We will have no deserters for sons or brothers!"
The old man stood erect, and, as if inspired with a mighty enthusiasm, raised his arm toward heaven, and his countenance beamed with holy light.
"They must return to their flag," he cried, in a commanding voice "With your blood you must wash the shame from your brows, and from ours. If God preserves your lives, and you redeem your honor as brave soldiers of the King of Prussia, then and then only we will receive you as our sons and welcome you to our arms."
"So shall it be!" cried the men and the women, and the maidens murmured their acquiescence.
The old man stepped from the bench and walked forward slowly to the other side of the square where the twelve young men were standing gazing at him with terrified faces.
"Return!" cried the old man, stretching his arm toward them--"return to the flag of your king; we want no deserters amongst us; away with you!"
"Away with you!" cried the men--"away from our village!"
The children, influenced by their parents, cried out with shrill voices: "Away from our village--away!"
The youths were at first stunned, and gazed with staring eyes at the crowd of angry faces and flashing eyes which menaced them, then seized with terror, they fled.
"Away with you! away with the deserters!" was thundered after them. "Away with you!" cried their mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and friends.
This fearful cry sounded to them like the peal of the last judgment. With trembling knees, and faces pale as death, they rushed down the principal street of the village. The crowd started after them, and like the howling of a storm, shouted behind them: "Away with you!-- away with the deserters!"
On they ran, as if pursued by furies, farther, farther down the street, but the villagers still chased them. Once only Charles Henry dared to look around at the pursuers. It was a fearful sight. At the head of the rest he saw his old father, with his pale
"Come to me, Charles Henry Buschman," he said, solemnly; and as his son advanced rapidly to him, he continued: "I ask you in the name of God, if what you told me yesterday is true? Have you secretly left the flag of your king, our sovereign--the great King Frederick of Prussia? Is it true that you have forsaken your regiment and the flag to which you swore to be faithful?"
"It is true," said Charles Henry, with assumed daring, "but we were not only justified in doing so--our duty compelled us. We are no longer Prussian subjects, but subjects of the King of France. You all heard to-day what the minister read to us in church--how the archbishop commanded us to be faithful to our new sovereign. We could no longer wear the Prussian uniform or be Prussian soldiers, therefore we returned to our village."
"You returned as dishonored, faithless soldiers!" cried the old man, looking angrily at his son--" you returned covered with shame-- miserable deserters--to the disgrace of your fathers, mothers, your brothers, sisters, sweethearts, and your friends. You have deserted the flag of your rightful king, to whom you swore the oath of allegiance--an oath which God received, and which no man can annul. Men of Brunen! shall we stand this shame that our sons bring upon us? Shall the world point their fingers at us and say: 'These are the fathers of soldiers who deserted their regiment, and were false to their king?'"
"No!" cried they all, as with one voice--"no, we will not stand this--we will have no deserters as sons!"
The old man bowed his head in silence; then turned slowly to the side where the women stood.
"Women and maidens of Brunen! Will you allow your sons and brothers who are covered with shame, to stay amongst you? Will you receive the deserters in your houses and at your tables? Will you open your arms to them and call them sons and brothers?"
"No, no!" cried the women and maidens, simultaneously; "we will not receive them in our houses, or at our tables. We will have no deserters for sons or brothers!"
The old man stood erect, and, as if inspired with a mighty enthusiasm, raised his arm toward heaven, and his countenance beamed with holy light.
"They must return to their flag," he cried, in a commanding voice "With your blood you must wash the shame from your brows, and from ours. If God preserves your lives, and you redeem your honor as brave soldiers of the King of Prussia, then and then only we will receive you as our sons and welcome you to our arms."
"So shall it be!" cried the men and the women, and the maidens murmured their acquiescence.
The old man stepped from the bench and walked forward slowly to the other side of the square where the twelve young men were standing gazing at him with terrified faces.
"Return!" cried the old man, stretching his arm toward them--"return to the flag of your king; we want no deserters amongst us; away with you!"
"Away with you!" cried the men--"away from our village!"
The children, influenced by their parents, cried out with shrill voices: "Away from our village--away!"
The youths were at first stunned, and gazed with staring eyes at the crowd of angry faces and flashing eyes which menaced them, then seized with terror, they fled.
"Away with you! away with the deserters!" was thundered after them. "Away with you!" cried their mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and friends.
This fearful cry sounded to them like the peal of the last judgment. With trembling knees, and faces pale as death, they rushed down the principal street of the village. The crowd started after them, and like the howling of a storm, shouted behind them: "Away with you!-- away with the deserters!"
On they ran, as if pursued by furies, farther, farther down the street, but the villagers still chased them. Once only Charles Henry dared to look around at the pursuers. It was a fearful sight. At the head of the rest he saw his old father, with his pale