■I'l! 
 
 fiiiiii 
 
 ■/^ iY,f\i^\{^t)l 
 
 ^&M 
 
2Shh 
 
 "Ground arms!" : the slonz of a life ; a 
 
 3 1924 026 224 083 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
 PROM THE 
 
 SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 
 Henrg W. Sage ' 
 
 iSqx 
 
 A.li.'iMS'.. ^^./.j./.mjL.. 
 

 C S S a8 » a 
 
 4 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this bool< is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924026224083 
 
"GROUND ARMSl" 
 
 THE STORY OF A LIFE 
 
a 
 
 GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 THE STORY OF A LIFE 
 
 A ROMANCE OF EUROPEAN WAR 
 
 BERTHA VON SUTTNER 
 
 Translated from the German 
 
 BY ALICE ASBURY ABBOTT 
 
 FIFTH EDITION 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & COMPANY 
 1899 
 
 K 
 
^ 
 
 ^^/,/ 
 
 Oj_ 
 
 Copyright, 
 By a. C. McClurg and Company. 
 
 A. D. 1892, 
 
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 The author of " Ground Arms! ", Baroness von Suttner, 
 is an Austrian of the upper class, the daughter of an Aus- 
 trian general. Before the appearance of this work she 
 had written several witty and tender society novels— sshe 
 is a sentimentalist of the German type.^but she had given 
 n6 evidence of greater power. She is a handsome, brill- 
 iant woman of the world, who has become thoroughly 
 imbued with the importance of the higher education of 
 women. In " Ground Arms! ", where she stepped at once 
 upon a higher plane than she had occupied in any pre- 
 vious work, she emphasizes the necessity of this better 
 training for women if the highest degree of civilization is 
 to be attained by the world at large. She reasons, like 
 Mr. Herbert Spencer, though she does not clothe the 
 thought in his words, that if woman is to perform all the 
 duties of her station, the era of universal peace, secured 
 by international arbitration, must first be secured. 
 
 To hastening the advent of the rule of justice obtained 
 without force she seems now to have largely devoted her 
 life. Recently, as Vice-President of the International 
 Peace Congress at Rome, she stood on the rostrum to 
 address a most brilliant and distinguished assembly — the 
 first woman since Corinna, whose voice has been heard 
 within the walls of the famous capitol. 
 
 The success of " Ground Arms! " in Germany has been 
 amazing. In the Austrian Parliament grave ministers of 
 finance have commended its reading; all ranks of life 
 
6 PREFACE. 
 
 have been profoundly impressed by it, and able critics 
 have compared its influence in Germany to that of 
 " Uncle Tom's Cabin " in the United States. 
 
 This effect is largely due to the terrible tension of the 
 public mind in Europe, caused by the daily and hourly 
 anticipation of war. Baroness von Suttner is keenly 
 alive to the spirit of the times, and she has written this 
 book with a hot heart and a burning pen. Naturally she 
 has not escaped the attacks of the believers in the jus- 
 tice and prudence of the present condition of things, and 
 is accused of belonging to the sentimental company of 
 apostles and owners of patent rights to reform and regen- 
 erate the world. The book is a crusade against war, and 
 its whole object is to present the claims of the individual 
 and the family as superior to those of the state; as an 
 individualist she presses the claim of every human being 
 to the ownership and control of his own life. Then, 
 regarding the family as the social unit, she emphasizes 
 the claim of wife and child as far superior to that of 
 church or state. 
 
 Though " Ground Arms! " is apparently a very simple 
 story, its philosophy is profound; but so quietly and un- 
 pretendingly is it unfolded, that we are continually sur- 
 prised by the strength of the author's logic. We are 
 sometimes oppressed by her method, which is often pain- 
 fully realistic, and in other respects is similar to that of 
 many of the noblest spirits of our time — the method 
 prompted by the Weltschmerz, the groan of the world, 
 which too often cripples our efforts because of its good-by 
 to hope, but in her case inspires to work of a very noble 
 character. 
 
 This cry of a weeping, passionate woman is but an echo 
 of the conscience of the times. So long as it remains 
 true that, in the main, diplomatists and kings plot wars 
 
PREFACE. 1 
 
 not always with the special aim, but certainly with the 
 result of arresting the social development of humanity — 
 it being with them a struggle to ignore as long as possible 
 the individual rights of man— so long must such books as 
 this aid in the advance of justice. It may not be to-day 
 or to-morrow that this influence will prevail, but it is 
 certainly in the trend of modern thought, and tends to 
 aid the tremendous social and moral revolution which all 
 reflecting minds must see approaching. 
 
 Any progress in the development of states through 
 war and revolution our author regards as entailing such 
 heavy misfortune, retrogression, and demoralization to 
 the individual as seriously to retard the general welfare 
 of humanity. This is the natural standpoint of the evolu- 
 tionist, who applies his principle to sociological prob- 
 lems, and in so doing antagonizes the revolutionary ideas 
 of radical socialism. 
 
 There may be some who will be offended at the half- 
 cynical way in which Baroness von Suttner exposes the 
 egotism of man, in ascribing to the Christian God con- 
 venient sympathy with conditions which are relics of bar- 
 barism ; but such should bear in mind that she has no 
 contention with the principles of the founder of Chris- 
 tianity, only a very serious quarrel with the misinter- 
 pretation of these principles, and with the practical 
 neglect of their application. In this countless numbers, 
 within and without the pale of the church, will agree 
 with her. Everywhere society is rebelling against the 
 abuse of the principles of Christian philosophy. Among 
 all sects, keen-eyed clergy are despairing of past methods, 
 and from them comes often enough an arraignment of 
 the church for its failure in the practical application of 
 the principles of its faith. Even the non-believer in the 
 miraculous origin of the Christian religion is sturdily 
 
8 PREFACE. 
 
 fighting for the application of its ethics while stemming 
 the force of time honored precedents. The main feature 
 of Christ's life and teaching, it is now everywhere 
 acknowledged, is to fit man to live with man, not to 
 prepare him for the hereafter — unless the doing of the 
 one may be considered an assurance of the other. The 
 author of " Ground Arms ! " is right when she practically 
 asserts that when in the development of society Christ's 
 tender philosophy controls the world, there will be an 
 end of war. 
 
 A. A. A. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 First Book — 1859, - - - n 
 
 Second Book — Time of Peace, - 42 
 
 Third Book— 1864, ... 86 
 
 Fourth Book — 1866, - - - 129 
 
 Fifth Book — Time of Peace, - - 212 
 
 Sixth Book — 1870-71, ... 244 
 
 Epilogue — 1889, .... 272 
 
"GROUND ARMSl 
 
 >> 
 
 FIRST BOOK. 
 1859. 
 
 AT seventeen I was a curiously overwrought 
 being. It would be impossible for me at this 
 date to comprehend my girlish peculiarities, were 
 it not for the diffuse and pretentious diaries which 
 have been carefully laid away, thus marking the 
 progressive stages of my life. There lie, cruelly 
 impaled, my long-lost enthusiasms, convictions of 
 which not a shadow remains, views no longer in- 
 telligible, sympathies dead and buried and gone 
 to judgment. I am thus, though somewhat bewil- 
 dered, able to get some inkling of the character 
 of the vacuity of the silly, pretty head writing all 
 this rubbish. Even of this beauty I now find but 
 little trace, anxiously as I may study my mirror, 
 though old portraits are my surety for its existence. 
 I can well imagine what an enviable creature 
 this Countess Martha Althaus must have been. 
 Young, handsome, popular and petted. But sin- 
 gularly enough these red-bound diaries indicate 
 more melancholy than joy in life. Can I actually 
 have been so silly as not to realize the advantages 
 of my position, or only so unbalanced as to believe 
 that these sorrowful sentimentalities were interest- 
 ing and particularly valuable if expressed in some- 
 what poetical prose ? My lot appeared unsatisfac- 
 tory, for I find in one of these precious documents: 
 " Ah, Joan of Arc ! heaven-blessed heroic virgin, 
 could I but wave the oriflamme of France, crown 
 my king, and die for country — my dear country! " 
 
13 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 The opportunity to gratify these modest ambi- 
 tions appears to have failed me. The noble army 
 of Christian martyrs seems next to have been re- 
 garded as worthy of emulation (date, 19 Septem- 
 ber, 1853), though this r6le^^.s,o proved to be equally 
 difficult of imitation, I evidently was forced to the 
 realization that all these glorious opportunities 
 for action, after which my soul thirsted, were 
 forever closed to me, that therefore my life was a 
 failure. 
 
 "Oh, why did I not come into the world a boy" 
 (this was a frequent form of denunciation of fate, 
 delivered in melodious measure at spasmodic 
 intervals). Then fortune would have been kind 
 and opportunity golden. Of feminine heroism his- 
 tory inscribes but few examples. How few of us 
 appear to have Gracchi for sons! How seldom it is 
 our mission to carry our husbands through the 
 Weinsberg Gates, or to cause fierce, saber-swinging 
 Magyars to shout: " Long live Maria Theresa, our 
 king! " 
 
 But when one has the advantage of masculinity 
 one can buckle on the sword and dash abroad to 
 win fame and laurels, capture a throne, like Crom- 
 well, or an empire, like Napoleon. I remember 
 distinctly that the very highest type of manhood 
 seemed to me embodied in a military hero. For 
 learned men, poets, and adventurous discoverers of 
 new countries I had some slight respect, but 
 admiration, simon-pure adoration, I laid at the feet 
 of the military hero and winner of battles. Such 
 are the makers of history, the leaders of the fate 
 of empires. In grandeur of character, in nobleness 
 of motive, in all but god-like attributes, these ex- 
 celled all other human beings as Alpine or Hima- 
 layan peaks tower above the grass and wild flow- 
 ers of the valley. From all of which it appears 
 that I possessed what is popularly considered an 
 heroic nature; while the truth was simply this: I 
 was enthusiastic and passionate, and these pecul- 
 iarities were naturally diverted into this channel 
 
"GROUND ARMS'" 13 
 
 by the character of my education and my environ- 
 ments. 
 
 My father was an Austrian general, who had 
 fought at Custozza under " Father Radetzky," 
 whom he absolutely adored. What have I not 
 heard in the way of stories of camp and field. He 
 was so tremendously proud of his military advent- 
 ures, and so thoroughly enjoyed the relation of 
 his campaigns, that I actually pitied other men who 
 lacked a similar experience. What a fearful dis- 
 advantage to woman that she is forever cut off 
 from the opportunity of such service to her country, 
 to honor and duty. At that period we heard but 
 little of the emancipation of women, and though 
 the precious little we did hear was coupled with a 
 covert sneer, I grasped the emancipation idea from 
 one side only. I was determined women should 
 have the right to go to war. How enchanted I was 
 with the story of Semiramis or Catherine II: "She 
 made war upon this or that neighboring power — 
 she conquered this or that kingdom." 
 
 History is responsible for this training of youth 
 to the idea of the glory of war. From baby days 
 it is stamped upon the impressionable childish 
 mind that the God of Battles has ordained wars, 
 and that this divine ordinance regulates the history 
 of nations; that these are engaged in the fulfill- 
 ment of immutable decree, a law of nature, like 
 tornadoes and earthquakes, which from time to 
 time will not be stemmed; that though atroci- 
 ties and wickedness, sorrow and heart-breaking 
 anguish are bound up therewith, these cannot be 
 avoided, and must be recognized as a portion of 
 the inevitable. The magnitude of the result 
 attained for the advantage of the many justifies 
 the sacrifice of the happiness, the interests, or the 
 very life of the individual. Is there a nobler death 
 than comes in the line of duty on the field of honor 
 — a more enviable immortality than that of the 
 heroic soldier? 
 
 Lo! There it all stands clear as sunlight in all 
 
14 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 the primers and readers for the use of schools, 
 where, instead of a genuine history of the devel- 
 opment of nations and humanity there are only 
 long lists of battles, and wonderful and entrancing 
 stories of the military prowess of individual heroes. 
 It all belongs to what is popularly considered a 
 necessary system for the development of patriot- 
 ism. That every child shall be made a fit and 
 willing defender of his country, his enthusiasm for 
 this first duty of the citizen is most carefully cul- 
 tivated. His natural sympathy with humanity, 
 his instinctive horror of inflicting suffering upon 
 others must be as carefully repressed. The inborn 
 divine impulse of hatred for the barbarism and 
 inhumanity of war becomes so warped by careless 
 and superficial treatment of this part of the story 
 that only the impression of the old national ideals, 
 so useful for the aggrandizement of nations, can 
 remain. And we succeed thereby in building up 
 a valorous and war loving race. 
 
 The girls — who are not allowed to go into camp 
 — being drilled out of the same books and sub- 
 jected to the same system, develop a like admir- 
 ation for war and the military service. Delightful 
 pictures for gentle women — for we are told we must 
 be tender and gentle — are delivered to us in fright- 
 ful stories of carnage and rapine of all the battles 
 of the earth from the Biblical and Macedonian and 
 Punic down to those of the Thirty Years' and the 
 Napoleonic wars. Naturally through such repe- 
 tition one's perception of the horrors of the thing 
 become calloused. Everything which according to 
 the rubrics of war must be expected is no longer 
 judged from the standpoint of humanity, but re- 
 ceives a quite special, mystical, historical, political 
 sanctification. It must be — it is the source of 
 highest dignity and honor. The girls have not 
 learned all the military odes by heart for nothing. 
 And so we hear of that stronger race, the Spartan 
 mothers, and the women who present battle flags 
 and regimental colors, and the numerous admirers 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 15 
 
 of brass buttons, who make the ofBcers' corps play 
 the rdle of happy belles by their invitations during 
 the " German." 
 
 I was not educated in a convent, as is generally 
 the case in my rank of life, but had tutors and a 
 governess at home. I lost my mother early and 
 her place was in a measure filled to the children — 
 there were four of us — by an aunt. We spent our 
 winters in Vienna, our summers on the family es- 
 tate in Lower Austria. Being an ambitious scholar, 
 blessed with a good memory, I was the joy of my 
 teachers. Since I could not attain the coveted 
 career of an heroic female warrior, I excited the 
 admiration of all around by my enthusiastic essays 
 upon those of either sex who had thus made the 
 world's history. French and English I acquired 
 perfectly. Of natural history, astronomy, and 
 physics I mastered all that was then considered 
 adapted to the feminine comprehension, but to the 
 history of nations there was no limitation, and I 
 devoured everything within reach in my father's 
 library. But for piano playing I had an uncon- 
 querable aversion. Long and earnestly I pleaded 
 to be excused from such a waste of precious time, 
 and finally by my obstinacy induced my father to 
 grant me immunity from this torment contrary to 
 the scandalized conviction of my aunt, that in so 
 doing I ignored the chief and most important part 
 of education. 
 
 On the tenth of March, 1857, I celebrated my 
 seventeenth birthday. " Already seventeen," I find 
 set down under this date. This " already " is a 
 poem. Without further commentary it seems to 
 signify " and nothing done for immortality. " 
 
 It was arranged that during the approaching 
 carnival I should be introduced to society. This 
 gave me no such pleasure as is generally felt by 
 girls. I had some higher aims than ball-room con- 
 quests. What were these ? I had frequently 
 asked myself this question without being able to 
 
16 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 answer it. Possibly it was love I was unknowingly, 
 blindly waiting for. All these glowing aspirations 
 and ambitious dreams which swell the human 
 heart during the youth of either sex, and which 
 under all forms thirst for knowledge, for travel, 
 for action — seek gratification, are mostly only the 
 unrecognized struggles of an awakening desire for 
 love. 
 
 During the summer my aunt was ordered to try 
 the springs at Marienbad. She found it conven- 
 ient to take me with her. Although my official 
 recognition in the social world was not to take 
 place until the following winter, I was allowed to 
 attend several small dancing parties — as a sort of 
 practice in behavior, so that I should not appear too 
 shy and awkward when that time came. But what 
 happened at the very first of these " re-unions ? " 
 A serious, impassioned attachment. Of course the 
 object was an officer of the Hussars. Naturally I 
 had no eyes for civilians when the military were so 
 largely represented. Among the most brilliant of 
 this dashing branch of the service Count Arno 
 Dotzky was the leading star. Over six feet in 
 height, with black, curly hair, gleaming teeth, dark 
 eyes, piercing and tender — in short, upon the 
 question: "Can you give me the cotillion, Count- 
 ess?" I was satisfied there were triumphs as 
 glowing as waving the oriflamme of France or 
 carrying the sceptre of Catherine II. And he, the 
 two-and-twenty years old lieutenant, dancing with 
 the prettiest girl in the room (after thirty years one 
 may be allowed to say so), flying down the hall in 
 waltzing time, doubtless thought: " For you, my 
 sweetheart, I would not exchange a marshal's 
 baton." 
 
 "But Martha, Martha!" scolded my aunt, as I 
 sank breathless upon the sofa at her side, covering 
 her with the swaying clouds of tulle of my dress. 
 
 " Oh pardon, pardon. Auntie," I exclaimed. " I 
 cannot help it." 
 
 " How can you conduct yourself in such a man- 
 
"GROUND ARMS I" 17 
 
 ner with that Hussar — and to look at a man in such 
 a way! " she exclaimed. I reddened deeply. Had 
 I behaved immodestly ? And what would the in- 
 comparable creature himself think about it. 
 
 From these dismal doubts I was relieved during 
 the evening when my adorer whispered anxiously : 
 
 "You must hear me — now, this evening: I love 
 you." 
 
 That sounded rather different from the famous 
 voices heard by Joan of Arc. But we were dancing 
 and I could not answer him. He led me into a 
 corner and eagerly continued : 
 
 " Answer, Countess, what have I to hope for." 
 
 " I do not understand you," I replied. 
 
 " Do you not really believe in love at first sight?" 
 
 Up to the present I had had grave doubts lipon 
 this subject. 
 
 " I throw myself upon your mercy," he exclaimed; 
 " you or no other. Decide for life or death. Life is 
 not worth having without you. Will you marry me? " 
 
 To such a furious and direct attack I was forced 
 to answer. I should have liked to invent some 
 diplomatic, dignified reply, which might leave him 
 a fragment of hope and yet preserve my dignity, 
 but could master nothing more than a very abashed 
 "yes." 
 
 " Then I can call upon your aunt in the morning 
 and write to Count Althaus." 
 
 Again " yes " — this time more courageously. 
 
 "What a happy man I am! So you loved me at 
 first sight? " 
 
 This time I answered only with my eyes, which, 
 however, uttered an unmistakable " yes." 
 
 We were betrothed on my eighteenth birthday, 
 after which I was presented at court. Upon our 
 marriage we undertook an Italian journey, for 
 which purpose Arno was granted a long leave of 
 absence. Of retirement from the army there was 
 never a thought. True, we each possessed a hand- 
 some fortune, but my husband loved the service, 
 
18 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 as I also did. I was proud of my elegant Hussar 
 and looked forward to his certain promotion — to 
 be a captain, then of course a colonel, possibly a 
 military governor, or, who knew but he might be- 
 come a field-marshal should glorious war give him 
 the opportunity to serve his country. 
 
 My note-books fail me entirely as to events dur- 
 ing our honeymoon. In truth, there are no notes 
 whatever of the happy periods of my life. I appear 
 in those long-lost years to have thought happiness 
 unworthy of record, while for every ail or peevish 
 humor of my past I found time to waste pen and 
 ink. As if when one went down into a rose garden, 
 one brought back naught but weeds and noxious 
 insects. 
 
 But I can remember it was a fairy story. I had 
 all that woman's heart could wish — love, riches, rank 
 and health. We loved each other passionately, and, 
 as it chanced, my dashing Hussar was in addition 
 a manly, noble-hearted soul, with cultivated man- 
 ners and a merry nature. It would not have been 
 strange if he had turned out an evil and coarse man, 
 but heaven was kind. I, on my part, might have 
 proved the most peevish, discontented of my sex, 
 but fortunately I was a cheerful, loving woman. It 
 was not our own discretion which preserved us from 
 a mistake. 
 
 At last I find one happy event set down — my 
 delight over my new dignity as mother. On the 
 first of January our son was born. Naturally this 
 event aroused as much astonishment and pride as 
 if we were the first pair to be so honored. For a 
 time my journal was full of comment upon the 
 mystical and sacred province of a mother. It is 
 the special aim of certain social rubrics entitled 
 " maternal love," " maternal happiness " and 
 " maternal pride," to magnify the oflSce of a 
 mother. There is a class of literature and art care- 
 fully cultivated to this end, such as collections of 
 poems, baby songs, illustrated journals and picture 
 galleries, just as in another direction school books 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 19 
 
 are arranged for the fostering of an admiration and 
 love of war. Next to hero worship comes baby 
 worship. But ah! my son — my manly, noble 
 Rudolph — the love of your and my mature years as 
 far exceeds that baby worship as the character of 
 the developed man excels the nature of the nursling. 
 
 The young father was not a little proud of his 
 successor and planned the sunniest future. " What 
 shall he be?" Of course, a soldier. Sometimes the 
 mother would protest: "But he might be killed 
 in battle." " Nonsense; and if he were, one dies but 
 once, and where it is appointed one to die. We can- 
 not help it." Besides, we should have other sons. 
 Rudolph must be the soldier, like his father and his 
 grandfather before him. So it was settled. At 
 two months of age his vocation was marked out for 
 him. His father saluted whenever he was brought 
 into the room, and on his third monthly birthday 
 he was promoted to the rank of corporal. On that 
 same day a great anxiety darkened my life and I 
 flew to my note-book to mark how heavy my heart 
 had grown. 
 
 On the political horizon there had risen certain 
 suspicious, black clouds, commented on daily by 
 the press and wherever people congregated. 
 
 " There is going to be trouble with Italy," my 
 father, my husband, and their military friends had 
 frequently mentioned in my hearing. But I was 
 too much occupied to bother myself with politics. 
 But on that first of April Arno said to me: 
 
 " See here, Sweetheart — it will soon break out.'' 
 
 " What will break out? " 
 
 " The war with Sardinia." 
 
 I was terrified. 
 
 "Gracious God — that will be terrible! Must you 
 go?" 
 
 "I hope so." 
 
 " How can you say that ? Hope to leave your 
 wife and child?" 
 
 " When duty calls.'' 
 
 " Then we must be reconciled. But hope — to 
 wish that such a bitter duty " 
 
20 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 " Bitter? Why, such a dashing, jolly war will be 
 glorious. You are a soldier's wife — do not forget 
 that." 
 
 I threw myself into his arms. 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know. I can be brave. How often 
 I have envied the heroes of history; how I have 
 longed to go into battle. If I could only go with 
 you!" 
 
 "All very fine, my wife, but impracticable. Your 
 place is here, at the cradle of our child, who must 
 grow up to be a defender of his country. Your 
 place is at the fireside. To protect this from the 
 attack of the enemy and secure peace for our 
 homes and wives we men must go to war." 
 
 I do not know why these words, which in similar 
 fashion I had read and admired, somehow this time 
 sounded like hollow phrases. There was no ad- 
 vancing army; no barbarous horde stood at the 
 door — simply a political complication between two 
 cabinets. Though my husband insisted so enthu- 
 siastically upon going to war, there certainly was 
 no pressing necessity to protect wife, child, and 
 fatherland. It was mere love of adventure, ambi- 
 tion, justifiable ambition, a delight in bravely do- 
 ing one's duty. It was very fine in him if he must 
 go into the field, and one ' could still hope. This 
 and similar reasoning and lamentation fill several 
 pages of my note-book. Louis Napoleon is de- 
 nounced as an intriguer ; Austria can not endure 
 it, and war will surely come, etc., etc. 
 
 The house was full of officers excitedly discuss- 
 ing the situation; my father was all fire and fury, 
 and his reminiscences became more diffuse. The 
 vital question, namely, what would be lost or won, 
 what every battle would cost in untold sacrifice of 
 blood and tears, was never for one moment con- 
 sidered. The fate of the individual was so entirely 
 lost sight of in the consideration of the so-claimed 
 general interest that I felt myself ashamed of the 
 recurring thought: " Ah, how will victory recom- 
 pense the dead, the crippled, and the widowed? " 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 31 
 
 How would it be if the enemy conquered? This 
 question I tremulously asked one evening of our 
 military friends and was contemptuously crushed 
 by their rejoinder. Even the utterance of such a 
 thought, the very shadow of a doubt was unpa- 
 itriotic. It was part of the duty of a soldier to 
 believe himself invincible. It was also in a certain 
 measure the duty of a soldier's wife to believe the 
 same. 
 
 My husband's regiment was quartered in Vienna. 
 From our house we had a view of the Prater, and 
 when one looked out of the window summer seemed 
 at hand. It was a wonderful spring. Earlier than 
 usual the foliage had come out, and we looked for- 
 ward with delight to the drives in the Prater, which 
 it was fashionable to begin the coming month. 
 
 " Now, thank God, the uncertainty is at an end!" 
 cried my husband, as he returned after parade on 
 the nineteenth of April. " The ultimatum has been 
 issued." 
 
 I trembled. " How — what does that mean?" 
 
 " It means that the last word of the diplomatic 
 negotiations has been uttered. Our ultimatum 
 demands of Sardinia that she disarm, which she of 
 course will not do, and we will soon march over the 
 border." 
 
 "Great God! But perhaps she will disarm." 
 
 " Then there would be no war." 
 
 I fell upon my knees; I could not help it. Speech- 
 less and yet almost with a shriek from the depths 
 of my soul rose the prayer to Heaven, "Peace, 
 peace." 
 
 Arno lifted me up. 
 
 "What do you mean, you silly child! Do you 
 forget you are a general's daughter, a lieutenant's 
 wife and " — with a laugh — " a corporal's mother." 
 
 " No, no," I cried, " I scarcely know myself. I 
 know how I used to thirst for military glory, but 
 when you come and tell me that ayes or no decides 
 whether thousands live or die — die suddenly,cruelly 
 
33 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 in these bright, sunny, blessed days of spring, it 
 seems to me all must pray for peace — must fall 
 upon their knees " 
 
 " In order to inform the Lord all about it, you 
 precious goose! " 
 
 The door bell rang. I hastily dried my tears. It 
 was my father who came in with a rush. 
 
 "Now children," he cried breathlessly, "do you 
 want to hear the news? " 
 
 " I have just told my wife." 
 
 "What do you think. Father," I asked anxiously; 
 " will the war be abandoned?" 
 
 " I never heard that an ultimatum prevented 'a 
 war. It would certainly be very wise of the miser- 
 able Italian pack if they would yield and run no 
 risk of a second Novara. I can see already how 
 our Lombardy and Venetian territory can be en- 
 larged by a piece of Piedmont. I can see our 
 troops enter Turin." 
 
 " But really, Father, you talk as if the war had 
 begun. Think, Arno may have to go." 
 
 "Of course — he is to be envied." 
 
 " But the danger — my anxiety — " 
 
 "Pshaw! danger! One can come home from war. 
 I have gone through more than one campaign, 
 been wounded more than once, and am still alive, 
 because I was not predestined to die." 
 
 The same old fatalistic notion! 
 
 " Should my regiment not be ordered out " 
 
 began Arno. 
 
 "Is that possible," I exclaimed joyously. 
 
 " In that case I shall apply for an exchange." 
 
 "That can soon be settled," my father assured 
 him. " Hess is to command the corps and he is 
 a good friend of mine." 
 
 I was sick with anxiety, and yet I could not but 
 admire my husband and father. I must control 
 myself. My husband was a hero. I sprang up 
 and exclaimed: "Arno, I am proud of you!" 
 
 " That's a brave wife. You have trained you 
 girl well, Father-in-law." 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 23 
 
 On the twenty-sixth of April war was declared 
 by the rejection of the ultimatum. 
 
 Arno brought the news home and I could not 
 control my despair. I threw myself upon the sofa, 
 burying my head in the cushions. 
 
 ''My darling, courage! Things are not so bad. 
 In a short time it will be over and we shall be hap- 
 pier than ever. I could not let my comrades go, and 
 remain at home. I must pass through the baptism 
 of fire — until I do that I scarce feel myself a man. 
 Just think how lovely it will be if I come home 
 with three stars on my collar, perhaps a cross on 
 my breast." 
 
 I leaned my head on his shoulder and wept 
 unrestrainedly. At this moment the cold glitter of 
 stars and crosses seemed of slight consequence. 
 Ten rewards of honor upon this dear breast would 
 be no recompense for the dreaded possibility that 
 a bullet might shatter it forever. 
 
 Arno kissed me on the forehead, put me gently 
 to one side and stood up. 
 
 " I must go to the Colonel now, dear child. Cry 
 yourself out, and when I return I hope to find you 
 in better spirits. I shall need them to keep off 
 anxious presentiments. Now, at' such a decisive 
 moment, my own little wife will do nothing to rob 
 me of my courage nor hinder my return to duty. 
 Good-by, my sweetheart." 
 
 I endeavored to control myself. His last words 
 still sounded in my ears. It was clear; not only 
 was it my duty not to depress his courage, but if 
 possible I must incite his sense of duty. That is 
 the only way we women have to show our patriot- 
 ism and prove ourselves in sympathy with the 
 fame which they may win on the battlefield. 
 "Battlefield!" — singular how this word now pre- 
 sented itself to my oiind with two widely different 
 significations. At one moment with the old-fash- 
 ioned, historical, pathetic, half-wondering admira- 
 tion, then with the shuddering repulsion of the 
 bloody, brutal syllables, " battle." Yes, they would 
 
24 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 lie slaughtered on the field, these thousands of 
 human beings now urged into action — lie there 
 with open, bleeding wounds — and among them, 
 perhaps — with a loud shriek I gave utterance to 
 my thoughts. 
 
 My maid, Betty, ran into the room, frightened at 
 the sound of my cry. 
 
 " In God's name, Countess, what is the matter? " 
 she exclaimed anxiously. 
 
 I looked at the girl. Her eyes were red with 
 weeping. I remembered that her sweetheart was 
 a sojdier. I felt as if I could press this sister-in- 
 misery to my heart. 
 
 "It is nothing, my child," I said softly. "Those 
 who go out may come back again." 
 
 " Not all of them, dear Countess; not all," she 
 began with a new outburst of tears. 
 
 My aunt came in to comfort me, she said, and 
 to preach resignation. 
 
 " The whole town is on fire; this war is very 
 popular." 
 
 " The town rejoice? " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Certainly, wherever no loved member of the 
 family is obliged to go there is general rejoicing. 
 Your father will be here soon to congratulate, not 
 condole with, you. He regards this as a magnifi- 
 cent opportunity for Arno. Upon the whole he is 
 right. For a soldier there is nothing better than 
 war; he must fulfill his destiny. What must 
 be " 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know, the inevitable- 
 
 " That which God wills," continued Aunt Marie 
 encouragingly. 
 
 " One must accept with resignation and humil- 
 ity." 
 
 " Bravely said, Martha. All will turn out as the 
 all-wise and beneficent Providence has determined. 
 The hour of death is settled for all of us as is the 
 hour of birth. And we will pray so earnestly for 
 our dear soldiers." 
 
 I was not just then prepared to analyze the 
 contradiction involved in the two suggestions: 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 25 
 
 that death was inexorably determined and yet that 
 we must pray that it be averted. I had no very 
 clear perception, in fact only a vague notion that 
 in the treatment of such sacred themes one had 
 better not ask too many leading questions, certainly 
 never appeal to the reason. It is the highest 
 breach of theological etiquette to question the 
 rationality of any dogma. Not to think was so 
 much more comfortable that I accepted the sug- 
 gestion of intervention by prayer. Yes, during 
 the whole absence of my husband I prayed con- 
 tinually for the protection of Heaven, that all bul- 
 lets might be diverted from his breast. Diverted! 
 In what direction? Toward the breast of some 
 other man for whom some other woman was also 
 praying ? And had I not had it drilled into me 
 by my tutors that any substance hurled at such 
 and such a momentum would strike such and such 
 an object? Again a doubt? It was bewildering. 
 Away with it! 
 
 " Yes, Aunt," I said aloud, rousing myself from 
 these contradictions, " we will pray diligently and 
 God will hear us. Arno will return to us sound 
 and well." 
 
 " See, my child, how in the hour of trial the soul 
 flees to religion for comfort. Perhaps the dear 
 Lord sends this affliction to prove your spirit and 
 rouse your lukewarm faith." 
 
 I was again not very clear as to how it was pos- 
 sible that all this complication (dating from the 
 Crimea) between Sardinia and Austria, this out- 
 break of grim war, should have been brought about 
 for the purpose of testing my lukewarm faith. But 
 to express such a doubt was not decent. So soon 
 as the appeal to God is made and his name ap- 
 pended to any statement, it henceforth receives a 
 certain sort of consecrated immunity. In regard 
 to the accusation of my indifference to sacred 
 things Aunt Marie was right. She was sincerely 
 devout. I was not trained to any such observance. 
 My father and husband were indifferent to reli- 
 
36 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 gious matters, and the exhortations to accept all 
 dogma taught, without protest or question, had not 
 suited my reasoning nature. I went every Sunday 
 to mass and once a year to confession; at such 
 times I was honestly devout, but the whole was all 
 a matter of the observance of ecclesiastical eti- 
 quette, just as I danced the lancers at a bali or 
 made the conventional courtesy when the empress 
 entered the ball-room. Our chaplain in Lower 
 Austria and the nuncio in Vienna had no right to 
 reproach me, but the accusation of indifference 
 made by my aunt was justifiable. 
 
 "Yes, my child," continued my aunt, "in days of 
 happiness and health people forget their Saviour; 
 but when death or sorrow comes upon us, or our 
 own lives are in danger " 
 
 In this style she would have run on forever had 
 not the door been torn open and my father, rushing 
 in, exclaimed: 
 
 "Hurrah! it is decided. They want a good 
 thrashing, the rascals — now they will get it." 
 
 It was a trying time. War had broken out. One 
 forgets that there are but two antagonistic forces, 
 and people talk as if there were some mighty third 
 party which set these two at each other's throats 
 Hence the whole responsibility is thrown upon this 
 mysterious force which regulates the fate of peo- 
 ples. Of a revolt against war as a system there 
 was at this period of my life no trace ; I only 
 suffered because my beloved husband was forced 
 to go and I to remain at home. I dragged again 
 to light for consolation all my old carefully culti- 
 vated convictions as to the highest duty of a sol- 
 dier being a readiness for service and a laudable 
 desire for honor and glory. I lived now in a stir- 
 ring epoch. This was an inspiriting reflection. 
 Since times of war, from the days of Herodotus 
 and Tacitus down to modern historians, had been 
 treated as the most important in the development 
 of man, I consoled myself with the idea of forming 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 27 
 
 part and parcel of one of the landmarks of history. 
 This conception of war was the general one. Noth- 
 ing else was talked of on the streets or in the par- 
 lor; we read nothing else in the newspapers; we 
 prayed for nothing in the churches save the suc- 
 cess of our armies; wherever we went earnest faces 
 and excited voices showed that people had no 
 thought for other matters. Business, amusement, 
 art — all were but secondary affairs. It seemed at 
 times as if we had scarce the right to think of 
 anything else while this great struggle over the 
 world's fate hung in the balance. The frequent 
 proclamations couched in the well-known phrases 
 confident of victory and prophesying national re- 
 nown; the glitter and clash of arms and waving of 
 battle flags as the troops marched through; the 
 stirring public orations and newspaper articles 
 glowing with patriotic ardor, this eternal appeal 
 to virtue, honor, duty, courage, sacrifice; the re- 
 curring assurances of the unconquerable justice of 
 our cause, defended by the noblest and best of 
 nations. All these established a sort of heroic 
 atmosphere, which filled the whole people with 
 enthusiasm and roused a general conviction of our 
 being the noblest citizens of the noblest of times. 
 
 Evil passions, such as thirst for conquest, braw- 
 ling, rapine, cruelty, all iniquity were regarded as 
 a necessary adjunct, but of course these offenses 
 were perpetrated only by the enemy, whose vil- 
 lainy all the world must acknowledge. Conse- 
 quently, quite aside from the justice of our cause, 
 we would do the world a service by properly pun- 
 ishing the perpetrators of all these wrongs. These 
 wretched Italians — what a lazy, vicious, treacher- 
 ous, volatile, and upstart nation! and this Louis 
 Napoleon — what a combination of intrigue and in- 
 ordinate ambition! When on the twenty-ninth of 
 April his famous proclamation appeared with the 
 motto : " Italy shall be free to the Adriatic," what 
 a storm of indignation was roused in Vienna. 
 
 I imprudently allowed myself to assert that it 
 seemed to me this was an unselfish and noble idea. 
 
28 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 but was quickly brought to my senses by enthusi- 
 astic patriots, who, so long as Louis Napoleon was 
 our enemy, could see no jot or tittle of good in 
 him. But a faint doubt arose in my mind. In all 
 historical accounts of wars I had always found the 
 admiration and sympathy of the writer on the side 
 of that party struggling to throw off a foreign yoke 
 and battling for national independence. Possibly 
 I knew not the right interpretation of the terms 
 "yoke" and "freedom," for otherwise I could not but 
 see that Italy, not Austria, was the one struggling 
 to these ends. But my feeble protestations were 
 scowlingly received and I was given distinctly to 
 understand that our government — that is, the gov- 
 ernment under which we chanced to live — could 
 never impose a yoke upon a people, its supremacy 
 could not but be a blessing; that those seeking to 
 assert their independence of us, and demanding 
 their freedom, were always " rebels," and that, in 
 short, we, and only we, were always in the right. 
 
 Early in May — they were cold and rainy days 
 fortunately ; sunny, joyous spring weather would 
 have made a more painful contrast — Arno's regi- 
 ment was ordered into the field. In the morning 
 at seven o'clock he was due at the station. Ah! 
 that night before — that dreadful night! Parting 
 in such sorrow, and war so terrible. 
 
 Arno had fallen asleep. Breathing quietly he 
 lay there with a smiling face. I lit a fresh candle 
 and set it behind a screen. I could not endure 
 darkness. For me, on this last night, sleep was 
 impossible. Throwing on a wrapper I lay quietly 
 beside him, and with one elbow supporting my 
 head watched him, weeping quietly the while. I 
 dared not stir, sleep was so necessary for him. For 
 six hours I still had him. 
 
 Ah! six o'clock. The orderly tapped on the 
 door. 
 
 Arno instantly rose and dressed himself rapidly, 
 cheering me up with all manner of hopeful words. 
 
 " Courage, Martha! It will all be over in two 
 months and I shall be safe at home again. Nonsense! 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 39 
 
 out of a thousand bullets only one hits the mark. 
 Other men have returned from war — there is your 
 father. It had to be. You did not marry a Hus- 
 sar to cultivate hyacinths for you. I will write as 
 often as possible and report what a jolly campaign 
 it is. If anything were going to happen to me I 
 could not be so cheerful. I am going to win a 
 decoration, that is all. Take care of yourself and 
 Rudolph. It will be something for him to hear his 
 father talk about the war of '59." 
 
 Again the orderly tapped on the door. 
 
 "Good-by, my wife" — his voice broke — a kiss, 
 the very last, and he was gone. 
 
 To scrape lint, read newspaper reports, and stick 
 pins fastened to little flags on maps of the seat of 
 war, in order to locate the movements of both ar- 
 mies, as if it were a game of chess where Austria 
 was expected to say, "In four moves checkmate"; 
 to go to church daily to pray for the success and 
 safety of our side — such was the entire occupation 
 of all of us. We ate, drank, and read; attended to 
 necessary business; but all in a perfunctory man- 
 ner. Nothing was of any consequence save the 
 despatches from Italy. The only gleam of light 
 was when I received letters from Arno. These were 
 always short — he was not given to letter writing — 
 but they brought me the happy assurance of his 
 safety. Necessarily these letters were irregular; 
 communication was sometimes cut off, and at the 
 approach of action mails were forbidden. When 
 several days passed without hearing from him I 
 suffered the deepest anxiety. After a battle I read 
 the list of killed with the greatest apprehension. 
 The first time I looked through the list — I had 
 heard nothing for days — when I saw that the name 
 of Arno Dotzky was not there, I folded my hands 
 and softly prayed, " My God, I thank thee." Scarce 
 had I uttered the words when a shrill dissonance 
 struck me to the heart. I took up the list again. 
 Ah! because Adolph Schmidt and Karl Miiller and 
 
30 •'GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 many, many others — but not Arno Dotzky — re- 
 mained upon the field, I thanked God. Certainly, 
 those who trembled for Adolph Schmidt or Karl 
 Miiller would also thank God, should they read 
 Arno Dotzky instead of the name they dreaded to 
 find. And why should my thanks be more grate- 
 ful to Heaven than theirs? Yes, that was the shrill 
 dissonance of my prayer: the selfishness and arro- 
 gance which lay therein and could cause me to 
 thank God that I was spared, when Schmidt's 
 mother and Muller's wife, reading the list, wept . 
 out their breaking hearts. 
 
 On the same day I again heard from Arno: 
 
 " Yesterday we had another serious engagement, unfor- 
 tunately again a defeat. But cheer up, Sweetheart, the 
 next time we will assuredly win the battle. This was my 
 first great affair. I stood in the midst of a thick shower 
 of bullets — a singular feeling; I will tell you about it 
 when we meet; it is frightful. The poor fellows fall all 
 around us, and we must leave them despite their piteous 
 entreaties. When we enter Turin, to dictate terms of 
 peace, you can meet me there^ Aunt Marie can take 
 care of little Rudolph until your return." 
 
 If the arrival of such letters formed the sunlight 
 of my existence, the blackest shadows settled down 
 upon my nights. When I awoke from the blessed 
 forgetfulness of dreamless sleep the fearful reality 
 with the more fearful possibility forbade my again 
 closing my eyes. I could not overcome the dread 
 that Arno might at that moment be dying in a 
 ditch — longing, longing for a drop of water and 
 calling despairingly on me. I could not free my- 
 self from this idea until with a wrench to recover 
 my self-control I succeeded in imagining his happy 
 return. Was not this as probable as his death? 
 
 My father was sadly depressed. One bad report 
 followed another. First Montebello, then Magenta. 
 Not he alone, all Vienna was disheartened. Every 
 one had been so certain of victory that they already 
 talked of decorating the houses with flags and of 
 singing Te Deums in the churches. Instead of this 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 31 
 
 they were waving flags and the priests were chant- 
 ing Te Deums in Turin. There they were thank- 
 ing God that he had helped them defeat the odi- 
 ous Austrians. 
 
 " Father, in case of another defeat do you not 
 think that peace would be declared?" I asked him 
 one day. 
 
 "Are you not ashamed to suggest such a thing," 
 he exclaimed. " It had far better be a seven, nay, 
 a thirty years' war. We must fight until we can 
 dictate terms and compel them to lay down their 
 arms. What do we go to war for if we have to end 
 it as soon as possible ? In that case we had better 
 stay at home." 
 
 " I think so myself," I sighed. 
 
 "What cowards women are! Why, you were well 
 grounded in patriotism, and now you value your 
 personal quiet more than the welfare and honor 
 of your country." 
 
 "Yes, because I love my Arno better.'' 
 
 " Family love — wedded love — that is all very fine, 
 but it takes second rank." 
 
 "Should it?" 
 
 The list of fatalities contained the names of 
 several officers personally known to me. Among 
 others that of the son — the only son — of an old lady 
 I greatly respected. I felt as if I must go to her. 
 Comfort her I could not — at the most I could but 
 weep with her. When I arrived at her house I 
 hesitated before I rang the bell. The last time I 
 had been there it was at a merry dancing party. 
 That night the dignified, charming old lady had 
 said to me: " Martha, we are the most enviable 
 women in Vienna. You have the handsomest hus- 
 band and I the noblest son." And to-dav? Have 
 I still a husband — who knows? Shot and shell 
 were flying even then, and at any moment I might 
 be a widow. I rang the bell. No one answered, 
 but the door of an adjoining apartment opened. 
 
33 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 " You will ring in vain, Madam — the house is 
 empty." 
 
 " Where is Frau von Ullsman? " 
 
 " She was taken to the insane asylum three days 
 ago. 
 
 For a few moments I stood motionless and pict- 
 ured the scenes which must have preceded the 
 time when madness followed agony. And my 
 father would have war last thirty years — for the 
 good of the country! How many mothers would 
 lose the light of reason? 
 
 Deeply moved I descended the steps meaning to 
 visit a young friend whose husband was also at the 
 seat of war. I passed the building used as a store- 
 house by the patriotic Relief Corps. At that time 
 there was no Red Cross service, and this humane in- 
 stitution had been organized to distribute all needed 
 supplies, which the people eagerly offered for the 
 sick and wounded. I entered; I felt impelled to 
 offer the money in my purse to the committee. It 
 might save some poor fellow — and keep his mother 
 from the madhouse. I knew the president. " Can 
 I see Prince C ," I asked. 
 
 " He is not in at present, but the vice-president, 
 Baron L , is here." 
 
 The man pointed the way to the office where 
 all money contributions were received. I passed 
 through several rooms where upon long tables 
 were piled up packages of linen, cigars, tobacco, 
 and wines — but mostly mountains of bandages. I 
 shuddered. How many wounds must bleed to 
 need all those rolls. " And my father," I thought 
 again, " would for the good of the country have 
 this war last thirty years. How many defenders 
 of their country would survive their wounds?" 
 
 Baron L received my money thankfully and 
 
 gave me much information in regard to the practi- 
 cal service of the relief corps. An old gentleman 
 entered and, sinking upon a chair, drew out his 
 purse, from which he took a hundred-florin bill. 
 
 " Allow me," he said, " to give my little toward 
 your noble work. I am an old soldier (Field Mar- 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 33 
 
 shal-Lieut. X , introducing himself) and know 
 
 its value. I served in the campaigns of 1809-1813 
 and at that tr.me we had no patriotic relief corps; 
 no one sent the wounded pillows and bandages. 
 The insufficient supplies of the surgeons could not 
 prevent thousands from suffering a hideous death. 
 It is a philanthropic, humane work, and you can 
 scarce realize the good you do." And the old man 
 went away with tears in his eyes. 
 
 A commotion outside was explained by the an- 
 nouncement: "Her majesty, the Empress! " 
 
 I looked from my quiet corner at the beautiful 
 face of our youthful sovereign, who in her simple 
 walking costume was even more charming than in 
 the full dress of court balls. 
 
 " I have come," she gently said to Baron L , 
 
 " because I have just had a letter from the 
 Emperor, who desired me to visit the Relief Corps 
 and assure you of the great good your supplies are 
 doing at the seat of war." 
 
 With lively interest she went through the build- 
 ing examining the supplies. She took up a roll of 
 linen. " See how fine it is, and how beautifully 
 sewed," she exclaimed. " It is a noble, patriotic 
 undertaking which the poor soldiers " 
 
 I did not understand the rest. " Poor soldiers " 
 The words sounded deeply sympathetic. Poor 
 indeed, and the more supplies we could send them 
 the better. But it came into my head to doubt the 
 necessity of sending the poor fellows out to endure 
 all this suffering. Why not keep them at home? 
 I drove away the thought. We sent them because 
 we must. Other excuse there is none for the hor- 
 rors of war than this — it must be. 
 
 I went on my way. In passing a book-store I 
 remembered that our map of the seat of war was 
 worn to tatters. A number of people were there, 
 all demanding the same thing. When my turn 
 came the proprietor asked: "A map, Madam?" 
 
 " You have guessed right." 
 
 "That is easy enough; people buy nothing else 
 nowadays." 
 
34 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 While wrapping it up he remarked to a gentle- 
 man standing near: 
 
 " It is a hard time for the authors of literary or 
 scientific works, Professor. So long as the war 
 lasts no one is in the least interested in anything 
 else." 
 
 "And a bad time for the nation," replied the 
 Professor. " It results in intellectual degenera- 
 tion." 
 
 " And my father," thought I for the third time, 
 " for the good of the country, would have the war 
 last thirty years." 
 
 "So your business is bad?" I asked, 
 
 " Not mine alone. Everything is at a standstill. 
 With the exception of the army contractors there 
 is no class of business men which the war does not 
 injure enormously. Manufacturers fail and factory 
 hands are out of employment; there are not enough 
 laborers for the farms; large numbers of human 
 beings are out of work and starving. Stocks fall, 
 gold rises, all enterprise is stifled, numerous firms 
 go into bankruptcy; in short, it is misery — nothing 
 but misery." 
 
 "And my father," I repeated to myself as I left 
 the book-store. 
 
 I found my friend at home. Countess Lori Gries- 
 bach was in more than one sense the sharer of the 
 same fate as mine. She was also a general's daugh- 
 ter, had married an officer a short time before, and 
 her husband as well as two brothers was in the 
 'service. But Lori was not of an anxious nature. 
 She was firmly convinced that these members of 
 her family were all under the special protection of 
 the saints, and she confidently reckoned upon their 
 return. She received me with open arms. 
 
 "Ah, how lovely of you to come! But you look 
 pale and worried. Any bad news from the seat of 
 war? " 
 
 " No, thank God. But the whole thing is so ter- 
 rible " 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 35 
 
 "Oh, you mean the defeat? That doesn't amount 
 to anything; the next report will be of a victory." 
 
 " Defeat or victory, war is horrible. How much 
 better it would be if we had no war." 
 
 " Mercy on us! What would become of the mili- 
 tary profession?" 
 
 " Why, we should not need any." 
 
 " How can anybody be so silly! " she exclaimed. 
 " That would be a fine sort of life — nobody but 
 civilians. I shudder at the thought. Fortunately 
 it is impossible." 
 
 "Impossible! Well, it may be. But I could im- 
 agine it as possible." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 " The disbanding of armies. But no, one might 
 as well expect to prevent earthquakes." 
 
 " I cannot make out what you are talking about. 
 So far as I am concerned I was rejoiced when this 
 war broke out in order that my Louis might have 
 the chance to distinguish himself. It is a good 
 thing for my brothers also. Promotions are so slow 
 in times of peace. Now they will have a " 
 
 "Have you heard from them recently?" I inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 " Not very long since. But you know how un- 
 certain the post is, and after an engagement they 
 are so tired, they do not feel like letter-writing. 
 But I am satisfied. Louis and my brothers wear 
 consecrated amulets. Mamma hung them round 
 their necks herself." 
 
 " How can you imagine a war where every man 
 on each side wears an amulet, Lori? When the 
 bullets fly here and there are they going to be 
 diverted to the clouds? " 
 
 " I never understand you, Martha; you are so 
 lukewarm in your faith. Your Aunt Marie com- 
 plains greatly of you." 
 
 "Why do you not answer my question?" 
 
 " Because you are deriding what is sacred to me." 
 
 "Derision! not at all. Simply a reasonable sug- 
 gestion." 
 
36 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 " You know very well that it is a sin to trust to 
 private judgment in things too sacred for us to 
 discuss." 
 
 " I will be quiet, Lori. You may be right. Rea- 
 son and logic are dangerous. All sorts of doubts 
 arise in me, and I suffer torment in trying to solve 
 them. If I lost the conviction that it was abso- 
 lutely necessary to begin this war, I could not for- 
 give the one who " 
 
 " You mean Louis Napoleon? He is certainly an 
 intriguer." 
 
 " Whoever it is, I am inclined to believe that it 
 is no human being who causes war, but that it 
 breaks out of itself, like a nervous fever or an 
 eruption of Vesuvius." 
 
 " What a state of mind you are in. Let us talk 
 sensibly. Listen to me. The campaign will soon 
 be over, and our two husbands will come back cap- 
 tains. I shall not give mine any peace until he 
 gets a leave of absence and takes me to a watering 
 place. It will do him good after all the privations 
 he has undergone, and me also; for this heat, this 
 dullness, and this anxiety are wearing me out. For 
 you must not think I have no anxiety. If it is 
 God's will that my husband should die — what is 
 more noble, more enviable than a gallant soldier's 
 death, on the field of honor, for God and country?" 
 
 " You talk like the latest army proclamation." 
 
 " Well, it would be dreadful for poor Mamma to 
 lose Gustav or Carl. But we will not talk about 
 it. As I was saying, we will have an amusing sea- 
 son — I think in Carlsbad. I was there once when 
 I was a girl, and had a glorious time." 
 
 "And I was at Marienbad. There I met my 
 Arno. But why are we sitting here idle ? Get 
 some linen and let us make bandages. I have just 
 come from the warehouse of the Patriotic Relief 
 Corps " 
 
 We were here interrupted. A servant brought in 
 a letter. 
 
 " From Gustav! " cried Lori joyfully. After read- 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 37 
 
 ing a few lines she threw down the letter with an 
 outburst of tears. 
 
 " Lori — dear heart, what is it? " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Read," she gasped. 
 
 I lifted the letter from the floor and began to 
 read. I can remember every word to this day, as 
 I afterwards borrowed it to copy in my diary. 
 
 "Read aloud," she begged, "I could not finish." 
 
 " Dear Sister: 
 
 Yesterday we had a severe engagement. There 
 will be a tremendous list of dead and wounded. In order 
 that you may prepare our poor mother, tell her that he 
 is severely wounded, but the truth is our brave Carl died 
 for his country." 
 
 I stopped to embrace my friend and then con- 
 tinued, tears choking my voice. 
 
 " Your husband is safe as well as myself. If the ene- 
 my's ball had only struck me. I envy Carl his heroic 
 death; he fell at the beginning of the battle and is saved 
 the knowledge that it was a defeat. That is the bitter 
 part. I saw him fall, for we rode close together. I 
 sprang off to raise him — a glance and I saw he was dead. 
 The ball must have gone through the heart or lungs; it 
 was a quick, painless death. How many others lay help- 
 less and suffering untold agony throughout the battle 
 before death released them. It was a fearful day; more 
 than a thousand bodies — friend and foe — covered the 
 field. I found among the dead so many dear, well-known 
 faces. Among others poor Arno Dotzky." 
 
 I fell insensible to the floor. 
 
 " It is all over, Martha! Solferino has decided it. 
 We are beaten." 
 
 With these words my father came to the corner 
 of the garden where I was sitting, under the shadow 
 of a linden. 
 
 I had gone back with my little Rudolph to the 
 home of my girlhood. Eight days after the blow 
 which left me a widow I returned with my family 
 to Grumitz, our estate in Lower Austria. All 
 were with me as before my marriage: father, 
 
38 ''GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 aunt, my little brother, and two half-grown sisters. 
 Everything was done to mitigate my grief and all 
 treated me with a reverential sympathy which 
 touched my heart. Next to the blood poured out 
 by the soldiers upon the altar of their country the 
 tears of soldiers' mothers, wives, and children are 
 the holiest libation. There was also a certain 
 pride in the knowledge which remained to comfort 
 me of the conventional, heroic dignity which at- 
 taches to all who die upon the field of honor. 
 
 Particulars as to Arno's death I had never been 
 able to obtain. They had found, recognized, and 
 buried him — that was all. His last thought was 
 certainly of me and our little child, and his conso- 
 lation in his last moments must have been: "I have 
 done, more than done, my duty." 
 
 " We are beaten," repeated my father, seating 
 himself on the bench at my side. 
 
 " And the victims were sacrificed needlessly " I 
 sighed. 
 
 "The victims are to be envied, for they do not 
 know the disgrace of their country. But we will 
 soon gather ourselves together, if, as it appears, 
 peace is concluded." 
 
 "Ah, God grant it! " I interrupted him. "Forme 
 it is too late, but what may it not spare thousands 
 of others." 
 
 " You think of nothing but of yourself and pri- 
 vate individuals. But this is a matter for Austria." 
 
 " Well, does not Austria consist of individual 
 human beings." 
 
 " My child, an empire, a state, has a longer and 
 more important existence than individuals. These 
 disappear, generation after generation, while the 
 empire develops farther, grows in fame, extent, 
 and power, or sinks, dwindles, and disappears, if it 
 allows other states to surpass it. Therefore it is 
 most important, and the highest duty of each in- 
 dividual, to strive, suffer, and even die that the 
 greatness, the extent, the welfare of the state shall 
 survive and increase." 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 39 
 
 These instructive words I impressed upon my 
 mind, in order that I might write them down in my 
 note-book. They sounded to me curiously like 
 what I used to read in my school books, words 
 which in my anxiety and sorrow I had forgotten; 
 and I determined to hug them to my heart for the 
 comfort and consolation they would give me when 
 I reflected that in the loss of my husband I had 
 done my share toward this important matter. 
 
 Aunt Marie had also other grounds for conso- 
 lation to offer me. " Do not weep, dear child," 
 she was accustomed to say, when she found me 
 sunk in profound grief. " Do not be so selfish as 
 to mourn for the one who is now so much better 
 off. He is among the saints, and looks down and 
 blesses you. Only a few fleeting years and you 
 will meet him again in glory. For those who die 
 on the field of battle heaven has prepared a special 
 abiding place. Happy are they who, when per- 
 forming a sacred duty, are called to its enjoyment. 
 Next in desert to the dying martyr comes the 
 dying soldier." 
 
 " So I am to rejoice that Arno " 
 
 "Rejoice; no — that is too much to expect. But 
 endure your fate with resignation. Heaven has 
 sent it as a trial to purify your heart and increase 
 your faith." 
 
 " So in order to purify my heart and increase my 
 faith Arno " 
 
 " No, no; but who can, who dare attempt to com- 
 prehend the mysterious ways of Providence ?" 
 
 Although Aunt Marie's consolation was rather 
 distracting, I managed to accept the somewhat 
 mystical conception, and endeavored to believe 
 that my dear victim enjoyed in heaven the reward 
 of his sacrifice, and that his memory among men 
 was kept alive by the glorified heroism of his 
 death. 
 
 The day before our departure from Vienna I 
 was present at the services at St. Stephens in honor 
 of the dead. The De Profundis was sung for all 
 
40 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 who had fallen and lay buried in a foreign land. 
 In the middle of the church a large catafalque had 
 been erected, surrounded by hundreds of burning 
 candles and decorated with military emblems, flags, 
 guns, and side arms. The choir sang the grand, 
 pathetic requiem, and the congregation — mostly 
 women clothed in mourning — wept aloud. And 
 each one wept, not for her own alone, but for all 
 who had met the same fate. They had all, these 
 poor, brave brothers, given up their young lives for 
 us, that is, for their country and the honor of the 
 nation. And the living soldiers who stood in the 
 background, from several regiments remaining in 
 Vienna, were ready and willing, without hesitation, 
 without complaint, without fear, to follow in the 
 footsteps of their comrades. Yes, these clouds of 
 incense, these swelling organ-tones, these humble 
 petitions, these blinding tears must have risen to a 
 well-pleased Heaven, and the God of Battles must 
 have dropped down his blessing upon the graves of 
 those for whom this catafalque was erected. 
 
 At least that is what I thought at that time and 
 wrote in my journal. 
 
 Fourteen days after the report of the defeat 
 of Solferina came the news of the peace of Villa 
 Franca. My father took all manner of pains to 
 explain to me how necessary for political reasons 
 this peace had become, whereupon I assured him 
 that for my part I was satisfied to see an end of all 
 this fighting and dying. 
 
 "You must not think for one instant," he con- 
 tinued, " that in making peace we compromise our 
 own dignity. It was not Solferino which com- 
 pelled us, but far more important considerations. 
 We refrain now in order to protect later other prov- 
 inces ruled by branches of our imperial house. 
 This Sardinian robber-captain, aided by this mis- 
 erable French intriguer, may venture to attack 
 other portions of Italy. They will move against 
 Modenaand Tuscany, and probably will even fall 
 upon Rome and the Pope — the vandals! If we now 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 41 
 
 surrender Lotnbardy we still retain Venice, and can 
 protect the South Italian States and the Holy See. 
 You can comprehend, therefore, that for purely 
 political reasons it is now our wisest course to make 
 peace " 
 
 " Yes, yes," I interrupted him, " I understand it 
 all. It is a pity they had not thought of this before 
 Magenta," I sighed heavily. Then, to change the 
 conversation, I directed his attention to a package 
 of books just arrived from Vienna. 
 
 "See here, the bookseller sends us among other 
 things a work which he recommends as marking 
 an epoch in modern thought. It is the work of an 
 English scientist named Darwin, ' The Origin of 
 Species.'" 
 
 " He can just let me alone," my father replied. 
 "Who wants, in such stirring times as these, to 
 bother one's self about such rubbish? How can a 
 book about the origin of plant and animal life mark 
 an epoch? Yes, the confederation of the Italian 
 States, the consolidation of Austria — they are epoch- 
 marking matters. They will live in history long 
 after this English book has been forgotten. Re- 
 member that." 
 
 I have remembered it. 
 
42 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 SECOND BOOK. 
 
 TIME OF PEACE. 
 
 FOUR years have passed. My sisters — now seven- 
 teen and eighteen years of age — were to be pre- 
 sented at court. I determined to take the oppor- 
 tunity of returning to the great world of society. 
 
 Intervening time had done its work and had tem- 
 pered my grief. Despair was followed by sorrow, 
 sorrow by melancholy, melancholy by listlessness,. 
 and this in turn by a renewed interest in lite. I 
 awoke one morning to the consciousness that I was 
 actually in a position to be envied. I was twenty- 
 three, handsome, rich, the mother of a charming 
 boy and one of an affectionate family. Were these 
 not conditions sufficient to make life enjoyable? 
 
 The short year of my married life lay behind me 
 like a dream. I had dearly loved my handsome 
 Hussar, his devotion had made me very happy, the 
 separation had caused me great sorrow, his loss 
 profound grief; but it was all in the shadowy past. 
 Our life together had been too short for the growth 
 of a close sympathy. We had worshipped each 
 other like a pair of fiery lovers, but we had known 
 nothing of that mutual respect and friendship which 
 is felt by those husbands and wives who for long 
 years have shared joy and sorrow. I had not been 
 indispensable to him, for in that case he would 
 never have felt impelled to go into the field, as his 
 own regiment had not left Vienna. In the four 
 years I had gradually developed into a different 
 being; my intellectual horizon had greatly broad- 
 ened, and I had attained a degree of knowledge and 
 its attendant culture with which I felt sure Arno 
 would have been little in sympathy. 
 
 How had this change been brought about? 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 43 
 
 A year of my widowhood had passed and despair 
 — first phase — had merged into a deep, depressing 
 sorrow. Of society I would hear nothing. I im- 
 agined my future as devoted to the education of 
 my son, who became the sole hope and pride of rny 
 existence. I buried myself in the treasures of our 
 large library, and as before history became a pas- 
 sion. Since actual war had torn so much from me 
 and my contemporaries, my former enthusiasm had 
 considerably abated, but I vigorously fanned the 
 old passion into life. I found a certain consola- 
 tion, when reading reports of noted battlefields, in 
 the reflection that the death of my poor husband 
 and my own widowhood were but a repetition of 
 an old, old story. Sometimes this was the case 
 — not always. It was scarcely possible for me to 
 transplant myself even in imagination to that ear- 
 lier period of my girlhood when Joan of Arc was 
 my ideal. 
 
 I soon exhausted the resources of our library and 
 wrote to our agent in Vienna for any new books he 
 might have on hand. He sent Thomas Buckle's 
 "History of Civilization." "An incomplete work," 
 he replied, " but so far as they go the two volumes 
 are a logical whole and their appearance has_ ex- 
 cited the liveliest interest in England, as also 
 throughout the civilized world. The author has 
 laid the foundation of a new conception of history." 
 
 New, indeed! After I had read and re-read the 
 volumes it seemed to me that I had hitherto 
 passed my life cramped in a narrow valley, but had 
 now come upon the mountain tops, from which 
 could be seen a broad stretch of country covered 
 with towns and gardens and bordered by a bound- 
 less ocean. I will not maintain that I — a twenty- 
 year-old woman, who had received only the con- 
 ventional superficial education granted to her sex — 
 comprehended the full grandeur of the landscape 
 (to carry on the metaphor) spread out before me. 
 But I was dazzled, was overmastered by it; I real- 
 ized that beyond the narrow limits of my old hori- 
 
44 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 zon there lay a mighty world of which I hitherto 
 knew nothing. Years later, when trained by much 
 other reading, when I again took up the work, I 
 could humbly claim that I really grasped its broad 
 and noble meaning. But this much I seized at 
 once: the history of humanity cannot be told 
 through stories of kings and statesmen; nor of wars 
 and treaties which are the result of the ambition of 
 one and the chicanery of the other, but is to be 
 learned only through the progressive development 
 of intelligence. The chronicles of courts and bat- 
 tles, which compose the chief part of books of his- 
 tory, may present particular phases of the civili- 
 zation of the time, but not its underlying causes. 
 I found in Buckle not a trace of the glamour with 
 which historians are accustomed to invest the lives 
 of mighty warriors and devastators of countries. 
 On the contrary, he convinces us that the respect 
 for the profession of arms is in inverse ratio to the 
 civilization of the people; the farther we descend 
 into the barbaric past, the more frequent the ap- 
 peal to violence and the narrower the bounds of 
 peace; we find province against province, town 
 against town, family against family. He maintains 
 that in the progress of society not only war, but all 
 love of military renown engendered by the stories 
 of the past will cease to be. He appealed to the 
 convictions of my own heart, which I had often 
 repressed as cowardly and unworthy, but which I 
 now joyfully recognize as being but the faint reflec- 
 tion of the growing spirit of the times. I at one 
 time attempted to talk with my father upon this 
 subject. But in vain — he would not climb with me 
 to the mountain top — that is to say, he would not 
 read the book. 
 
 Then followed the year — my second phase — 
 when sorrow became melancholy. I read and 
 studied *with renewed ardor, and while brain and 
 heart developed melancholy disappeared. There 
 came a time when books grew wearisome to me, 
 the joy in existence reawakened, and all the 'olo- 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 45 
 
 gies and 'graphics in the world could not afford 
 content. And so it came about that in the winter 
 of 1863 I chaperoned my sisters, and opened my 
 house to Vienna society. 
 
 " Martha, Countess Dotzky, arich young widow." 
 Under this oft-repeated description I soon found 
 myself a player in the comedy of society. 
 
 It was assumed by my family that I would marry 
 again. Aunt Marie no longer referred in her hom- 
 ilies to the soldier saint above patiently waiting for 
 me. For if in the few short years between me and 
 the grave I saw fit to take unto myself a second 
 husband, this fact might prejudice the prospect of 
 a pleasant meeting there. 
 
 All of those about me seemed to have forgotten 
 Arno's existence — all save myself. One may cease 
 to mourn the dead, but forgotten they should never 
 be. I regarded this silence in regard to those lost 
 to us as a second death, and to keep my husband's 
 memory green I taught my little Rudolph to speak 
 daily of him, and at night to add to his evening 
 prayer: "God keep me good and brave for love 
 of my father Arno." 
 
 We sisters enjoyed ourselves immensely. It was 
 really my own debut. During the short time I 
 had seen the world and society before my marriage 
 I was a betrothed bride, hence I had missed the 
 chief attraction in the comedy — the love-making. 
 But now, though I enjoyed being surrounded by a 
 crowd of admirers, I could not easily get on with 
 them. A barrier lay between them and me which 
 seemed insurmountable. All these dashing young 
 gentlemen (chiefly officers in the regular service), 
 who appeared absorbed in amusement, horses, plaj'' 
 and the ballet, could not have the faintest concep- 
 tion of the things of which I thought and read. 
 That language of which I had but learned the 
 alphabet, but through which I knew the men of 
 science were solving the noblest riddles, was to 
 these gay butterflies not merely " Spanish," but 
 Patagonian. 
 
48 "GROUND ARM SI" 
 
 Among this tribe I should certainly find no hus- 
 band, and I was only concerned for the sake of 
 my good name that no compromising notion that 
 I allowed love-making should mount into their 
 feathery brains. But in all else — the dance, the 
 theatre, and dress — I played my r6le with a light 
 heart. I neither neglected my little Rudolph nor 
 failed to keep informed in regard to all the tenden- 
 cies of the literature of the day. This latter occu- 
 pation certainly did not tend toward the lowering 
 of the barriers between me and my fashionable 
 adorers. I would gladly have entertained in my 
 salon the distinguished men of the scientific and 
 literary world of Vienna. But in the circle to 
 which I belonged this was scarcely possible. The 
 middle-class element was not tolerated in Austrian 
 "society." This was so especially at that time, 
 though nowadays it has become the fashion to open 
 one's doors to a few rare representatives of art and 
 science. Those who could not be presented at court 
 — that is to say, could not show sixteen generations 
 of ancestors — must be shut out. Our friends would 
 have been quite unpleasantly startled to meet un- 
 titled people at my house, and would have found 
 it impossible to affiliate with them. And these 
 people themselves would have considered the com- 
 pany collected in my parlors frightfully tiresome. 
 What part could men of brains and knowledge, 
 writers and artists, have taken in the senseless 
 chatter of the old generals and ancient ladies-in- 
 waiting, the gay sportsmen and vapid young girls 
 who would have edified them by the account of 
 where we danced yesterday, and where the next 
 ball was to be, at Schwarzenberg, at Pallavicini, 
 or at court. How they would have been inspired 
 by the gossip as to the quality of the passion dis- 
 played by the adorers of Baroness Packer; or how 
 interested to learn the name of the latest unfor- 
 tunate rejected by the Countess Palffy; or how 
 many houses Prince Croy maintained. How in- 
 structive they would find the discussion as to the 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 47 
 
 maiden name of the young Almasy — whether she 
 was a Festetics or a Wenkheim, and if a Wenk- 
 heim could it be on the Khevenhiiller side, etc., 
 etc. That was the sort of stuff which made up the 
 conversation of my guests. Although there were 
 occasionally intellectual and able statesmen, diplo- 
 matists and men of note among us, they generally 
 conformed to custom and adopted the same frivo- 
 lous tone. 
 
 Often after one of my dinner parties I would 
 have gladly joined the group of brilliant men who 
 had escaped to a corner and were evidently sur- 
 reptitiously discussing something rational. But 
 my duties to the other guests scarcely permitted 
 this, and even if I had ventured to approach them 
 when they were deep in the theories of Strauss 
 and Renan, the political situation, or the latest sci- 
 entific discovery, such conversation would have 
 ceased instantly. One and all they would have 
 begun: "Ah, Countess Dotzky, how charming 
 you looked yesterday at the picnic! Of course 
 you are going to the reception at the Russian 
 embassy? " 
 
 " Allow me, dear Martha," said my cousin, Con- 
 rad Althaus, " to introduce Lieut.-Col. Baron Til- 
 ling." 
 
 I bowed and half rose, supposing this to mean 
 an invitation to dance. 
 
 " Pardon me. Countess," said the Baron, a slight 
 smile showing his white teeth, " I cannot dance." 
 
 " So much the better," I answered, sinking back. 
 "I sat down to rest a moment." 
 
 " I asked for the honor of an introduction," he 
 continued formally, "as I had some information to 
 give you." 
 
 I looked up astonished. The Baron had a grave 
 face. He was an earnest looking man, no longer 
 young, possibly over forty, and a few white hairs 
 were plainly visible — upon the whole, a distin- 
 guished, sympathetic personality. 
 
48 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 "What I have to say is scarcely the thing to be 
 told in a bali-room. May I call upon you at any 
 hour you may appoint?" 
 
 "I receive on Saturdays between two and four." 
 
 " Then I suppose that on Saturdays your house 
 is like a bee-hive. The swarm hours do not suit 
 me at all. I had rather see you alone." 
 
 " You excite my curiosity. Come to-morrow at 
 the same hour, two." 
 
 The Baron bowed and left me. A little later 
 Cousin Conrad passed. I inquired about Baron 
 Tilling. 
 
 " He pleases you, does he ? He has made such 
 an impression that you are already setting an in- 
 vestigation on foot. He is to be had — that is, he is 
 unmarried. But there is a rumor that a certain 
 distinguished lady (he named a princess of the 
 reigning house) has him in her silken toils, and that 
 he consequently does not wish to marry. His reg- 
 iment has been ordered into garrison here, and I 
 have met him socially, though he is no friend to 
 balls and the like. I made his acquaintance at the 
 Casino, where he spends his time in the reading- 
 room or in playing chess. I was surprised to see 
 him here, but I believe our hostess is his cousin. 
 After he left you he disappeared." 
 
 " Did you introduce him to other ladies? " 
 
 " No. But do not imagine that he looked at you 
 from afar and' straightway asked for an introduc- 
 tion. He simply asked: 'Do you know a certain 
 Countess Dotzky, formerly an Althaus; possibly 
 she is a relative of yours? If she is here I should 
 like to meet her.' 'Yes,' I answered, 'there she is, 
 in that corner, the one in a blue dress.' 'Be so 
 good as to introduce me,' and away we went. How 
 could I imagine that I would thereby destroy your 
 peace of mind?" 
 
 " Nonsense, Conrad — my peace is not so easily 
 ruffled. Tilling! What family is that? I never 
 heard the name before." 
 
 " See how she persists ! He is a lucky man. 
 Here I have brought all my powers of fascination 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 49 
 
 to bear upon you for three months in vain. This 
 cold-blooded lieutenant-colonel comes along — for 
 he is cold and unfeeling, I can tell you that — and 
 walks away triumphant. You ask about the family? 
 It is of Prussian origin, though his father was in 
 the Austrian service ; his mother is a Prussian. 
 You must have noticed his North-German accent." 
 
 " He speaks a charming German." 
 
 " Oh, of course — everything is charming about 
 him." Conrad rose. "Now, I have had quite 
 enough; I will leave you to your pleasant, decep- 
 tive dreams. I can hunt up ladies who " 
 
 " Will think you charming, Conrad. There are 
 plenty of them." 
 
 It is unnecessary to describe how I enriched the 
 diary of that period with reflections upon the char- 
 acter of my new acquaintance, to which is added 
 unpleasant doubts as to where he had spent the 
 remainder of that evening. Probably at the feet of 
 the princess, I wrote, and. I rounded out my sen- 
 tences by envying her — not Tilling, oh, no! — but the 
 being loved by any one at all. 
 
 That I thought a moment, while I dressed that 
 afternoon, as to whether violet velvet is not best 
 adapted to set off the beauty of a blonde I will 
 acknowledge. The Baron was announced at ten 
 minutes after two. 
 
 "As you see. Countess, I have made prompt use 
 of your permission to call," he said, kissing my 
 hand. 
 
 "Most fortunately," I answered, "for I am over- 
 whelmed with curiosity to know the nature of the 
 information you bring." 
 
 " Then I will at once say what I meant to tell 
 you. I was at the Battle of Magenta." 
 
 "And you saw Arno die?" I cried. 
 
 " Yes, I can give you all the particulars. Believe 
 me, I would not have spoken of it if I had not felt 
 sure of the relief I might bring you." 
 
 " You lift a stone from my heart. My anxiety 
 has been heart-breaking." 
 
50 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 " I will not repeat the commonplace phrase that 
 he died as heroes die, because I do not know what 
 that means. But I can give you the only comfort, 
 that he died instantly without knowing that death 
 was near. He was hopeful from the first. We 
 were frequently together; he had shown me the 
 pictures of his wife and child and invited me to 
 visit him when the campaign was over. At the 
 Battle of Magenta I chanced to be at his side. I 
 spare you the scene. Men of warlike temperament 
 in the turmoil of an engagement are scarcely con- 
 scious of what they are doing. A shell burst near 
 us and ten men — among them Dotzky — fell to- 
 gether. A shriek of agony came from some of the 
 poor fellows, but Dotzky was killed instantly. All 
 but Dotzky were so shockingly mangled that we 
 could do nothing for them. A charging column of 
 cavalry rode down these wretched wounded. After 
 the battle I searched the field and found Dotzky 
 lying with the same pleasant smilfi on his face as 
 when I first reached him after death. I have meant 
 for years to tell you this, but have had no oppor- 
 tunity. Forgive me if I revive unhappy memories. 
 It is better to be released from painful uncer- 
 tainty." 
 
 The Baron rose, while I, drying my tears, thanked 
 him warmly. 
 
 " It is a relief to know my husband died free 
 from lingering agony. But, stay a moment; some- 
 thing in your tone touches a chord in my own heart. 
 You, too, hate war? " 
 
 His face darkened. 
 
 " Forgive me. Countess," he answered, " if I can- 
 not talk with you on that subject. , I regret that I 
 must leave; I am expected elsewhere." 
 
 Probably by his princess. 
 
 " I will not detain you," I coolly replied, and he 
 left without asking permission to come again. 
 
 The carnival season was over. Rosa and Lilli 
 boasted a half-dozen conquests apiece, but no de- 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 51 
 
 sirable match among them. I wrote disconsolately 
 in my diary: " I am glad dancing is over; it began 
 to be tiresome. Always the same dances and the 
 same dancers. The same grimaces, the same sighs 
 and killing glances. Not one interesting man 
 among them. The only one worth knowing ap- 
 parently belongs to his princess. She is a pretty 
 woman, but thoroughly heartless." 
 
 Although Lent had commenced, there were cer- 
 tain canonical species of gaiety mixed in with our 
 religious duties, such as dinners, concerts, and re- 
 ceptions; we were also promised a new play after 
 Easter. Aunt Marie considered us all unruly sin- 
 ners and dragged Rosa and Lilli about with her 
 to hear all the famous preachers. The girls were 
 quite willing, as they met all their coterie at church 
 and continued their flirtations. Certain noted 
 priests, such as Father Klinkowstrom among the 
 Jesuits, were as much the fashion as Murska was at 
 the Opera House. 
 
 " My dear, I have a favor to ask of you," said my 
 father one morning, as he entered my breakfast- 
 room. He carried a paper-covered parcel in his 
 hand. " Here is something for you." 
 
 " A petition and a present? " I laughed. " That 
 is bribery." 
 
 "Then hear my petition before you open the 
 parcel. I am going to have a most tiresome dinner- 
 party to-day " 
 
 " Oh, I know; three old generals and their 
 wives." 
 
 "And two cabinet ministers with theirs; in short, 
 a stiff, sleepy, state affair. I want you to help me." 
 
 "Where is Aunt Marie?" 
 
 " She has one of her headaches." 
 
 " So you will sacrifice your daughter like the 
 ancient fathers. For instance, as Agamemnon sac- 
 rificed Iphigenia. Very well; I submit." 
 
 " I thought I would add a younger element. Doc- 
 tor Bresser, for one, who treated me so well in my 
 
52 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 last illness that I would like to be polite to him, 
 and Lieut-Col. Tilling." 
 
 I began to open the package. 
 
 " It is nothing for you. It belongs to Rudi." 
 
 "Yes, I see; a box of leaden soldiers. But, 
 father, that four-years-old child should not " 
 
 " Now, now, what nonsense. I played soldier 
 when I was three years old — one cannot begin early 
 enough. My earliest recollections are of drums, 
 sabers, learning to drill and march. In this way 
 we arouse" a love for the profession." 
 
 " My son, Rudolph, shall never be a soldier," I 
 interrupted. 
 
 " Martha! I know well what his father's wish 
 would have been." 
 
 " Rudolph belongs to me now, and he shall not." 
 
 " Shall not adopt the noblest, the most honorable 
 profession? " 
 
 " The life of my child shall not be risked on the 
 battlefield." 
 
 "Why, I was an only son and /became a soldier. 
 Arno had no brother, and your brother Otto is an 
 only son, and yet I have sent him to the military 
 academy. The traditions of the family demand 
 that the child of a Dotzky and an Althaus should 
 devote his life to the service of his country." 
 
 " His country needs him less than I do. Are 
 there no other ways of serving his country? " 
 
 " Luckily all mothers do not think so." 
 
 " If they did there would be fewer parades and 
 grand reviews and fewer men for cannon fodder, 
 as it is now the fashion to call the rank and file. 
 That would be no misfortune." 
 
 My father looked very much provoked. 
 
 " Oh, you women! How you mix up the ethics 
 of the family and of the state. Fortunately the 
 youngster will not ask your permission; soldiers' 
 blood flows in his veins. He will not be your only 
 son, Martha. You really must marry again. What 
 has become of all your admirers? How is it with 
 Captain Olensky, who is dead in love with you? 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 63 
 
 He has lately been pouring forth his protestations 
 to me. I should like him very well for a son-in- 
 law." 
 
 " I should not like him for a husband." 
 
 " Then there is Major Millersdorf." 
 
 " You might offer the whole army roll — I want 
 none of them. At what hour do you dine?" 
 
 " At five. Come a little earlier. Give my love 
 to Rudi — the future field-marshal of the imperial 
 army." 
 
 It would have been a tiresome ceremonial dinner 
 for me, had it not been for the presence of Tilling. 
 While at the table I had no opportunity of speak- 
 ing to him, but after we had risen from dinner he 
 joined a group in one corner of the long drawing- 
 room, where smoking was allowed. The old ladies 
 withdrew into a recess at the lower end. I lighted 
 a cigarette. The two old gray-headed generals 
 who had been seated by me at dinner remained 
 faithful attendants as I sat at my little table serving 
 the black coffee. 
 
 " I wonder if we may not expect an outbreak 
 soon? " said one of the old gentlemen. 
 
 " H'm," replied the other. "The next war will 
 be with Russia." 
 
 " Must there always be a next war? " I murmured ; 
 but no one noticed me. 
 
 "It is far more likely it will be with Italy," re- 
 plied my father. " We must get Lombardy back 
 some way. I want to see a march into Milan like 
 that of '49 under Father Radetzky. It was a 
 bright, sunny morning " 
 
 " Oh," I exclaimed in a panic, " we all know the 
 story of the march into Milan." 
 
 " AH about the brave Hupfauf also, I suppose," 
 answered my father laughing. 
 
 "Yes, yes, and it is horrible." 
 
 " Let us hear it, Althaus. We have not heard 
 it," one of the group said diplomatically. 
 
 My father did not need a more pressing invitation. 
 
 " This man Hupfauf belonged to a regiment of 
 Tyrolean Jagers; he was a native Tyrolean and the 
 
54 '-GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 best shot you ever saw; he always carried off the 
 prizes at the shooting matches. When the Milanese 
 rebelled, he asked permission to climb to the roof 
 of the cathedral; he proposed to take four com- 
 rades with him and shoot at the rebels. He was 
 allowed to do it. The four did nothing but load 
 their rifles and hand them to him; he hit his mark 
 every time and killed ninety Italians." 
 
 " It was abominable," I exclaimed. " Every one of 
 those poor fellows had a mother, wife, or sweetheart 
 at home, and a right to his own young life." 
 
 " They were our enemies, child; that alters the 
 point of view." 
 
 "Quite right," said Doctor Bresser sarcastically; 
 "so long as the idea of enmity being justifiable is 
 sanctioned among men, based solely upon the fact 
 of your being on one side of the boundary line of 
 a country and I on the other, the law of humanity 
 will receive but slight recognition." 
 
 " What do you say, Baron Tilling," I asked. 
 
 " I would have given the man an order to deco- 
 rate his gallant breast — from the standpoint based 
 upon the ethics of war — and would then have put 
 a bullet through his flinty heart; both were well 
 deserved." 
 
 I looked up at the speaker warmly, gratefully. 
 The remarks, however, evidently jarred upon the 
 conventional class sensibilities of the others, and 
 there was an awkward pause. 
 
 "Have you seen the new book by the English 
 naturalist, Darwin," asked the Doctor, turning to 
 my father. 
 
 " I know nothing of it." 
 
 " Why, Papa," I exclaimed, "you do not remem- 
 ber; our bookseller sent it to us four years ago, and 
 you then predicted it would soon be forgotten by 
 the world." 
 
 "So far as I am concerned that is true." 
 
 "The whole world is turned upside down by it," 
 returned the Doctor. " Everybody is discussing 
 the new theory of the origin of species." 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 55 
 
 "Ah, you mean the monkey theory?" exclaimed 
 the old general at my right. "I heard them talk- 
 ing about it at the Casino. The learned gentlemen 
 have reached a strange conclusion — that man was 
 originally an orang-outang." 
 
 " Upon the whole," the cabinet minister began — 
 when our old friend opened his orations in this 
 style, we quaked in our shoes — " the thing sounds 
 absurd; but it really cannot be treated as a joke. 
 It is a theory built upon diligently collected facts 
 and ingeniously elaborated. To be sure it has 
 been attacked by men of repute, but like many 
 speculative ideas distasteful to us it has produced 
 an effect and has warm defenders. We shall soon 
 hear the word Darwinism, which will survive long 
 after his theory has been abandoned. It is a great 
 pity that people display so much temper in dis- 
 cussing this singular Englishman. Of course the 
 clergy object to the destruction of their story of 
 the creation of man after God's own image; — no 
 wonder they denounce it as a scandalous attack. 
 But the condemnation of the church can no longer 
 prevent the spread of a theory presented under the 
 cloak of science." 
 
 "What folly!" exclaimed my father, beginning 
 to be anxious about his other guests, who looked 
 rather bored. "Man descended from apes! One 
 only needs a little common sense to reject such an 
 absurd notion." 
 
 " We are not at all certain how the discussion 
 may end," the minister solemnly insisted. " It can- 
 not be denied that between man and ape there is a 
 great resemblance." 
 
 " The abyss between them is immeasurable," qui- 
 etly replied one of the old generals. " Can one con- 
 ceive of an ape who could invent the telegraph? 
 Language itself lifts man far above the brute." 
 
 "Pardon me, your Excellency," said Doctor Bres- 
 ser. " Language and the capacity for technical 
 discovery were not originally born with man — a 
 wild man could not to-day invent the telegraphic 
 
56 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 instrument. That is all the result of slow develop- 
 ment and evolution." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know, Doctor," answered the general. 
 "Evolution is the battle-cry of the new school, but 
 one cannot evolve a camel from a kangaroo. Why 
 do we not find apes to-day developing into men? " 
 
 I turned impatiently to Baron Tilling. 
 
 " What do you say? Do you march with the 
 defenders or the opponents of Darwin?" 
 
 "Although I have heard much of the subject, 
 Countess, I can have no opinion. I have not read 
 the book." 
 
 " Nor I," the Doctor acknowledged. 
 
 " Nor I — nor I — nor I" — chorused all the others. 
 
 Amid the general laughter the Minister of Finance 
 apologetically added: 
 
 "After all, the battle-cries of the system have 
 become so well known that we acquire quite a good 
 idea of what it all means and can join either army 
 of combatants. ' The survival of the fittest,' 'natural 
 selection,' ' evolution,' are expressions familiar as 
 the alphabet. You find defenders of the advanced 
 ideas among all the destructive spirits who are 
 always running after a new thing, while the cold- 
 blooded, critical people, who insist upon positive 
 evidence, are found on the other side." 
 
 " The opposition to every new idea, of which 
 we everywhere hear the chorus," said Tilling, "is 
 usually based upon the falsest and most cowardly 
 grounds — and it would be impossible for one to 
 echo it. Even when new scientific hypotheses are 
 proved, they continue to be assailed by conservative 
 people. I shall undertake to read the book, but 
 not to pass judgment upon its scientific theories, 
 as my knowledge in that line is very limited. I 
 acknowledge, however, that a theory which so vio- 
 lently antagonizes all preconceived opinions prej- 
 udices me in its favor for that very reason." 
 
 "Oh you clear-headed, courageous soul!" I si- 
 lently apostrophized the speaker. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 57 
 
 About eight o'clock the party dispersed. My 
 father politely urged delay and I mildly murmured: 
 "At least a cup of tea?" Each had his excuse: one 
 was expected at the Casino, another was going to 
 a concert; one of the ladies had a box at the opera 
 and wished to see the fourth act of the Huguenots; 
 the second expected guests; in short, all quite will- 
 ingly, though with polite assurance to the con- 
 trary, left the house. Tilling and Doctor Bresser 
 lingered and needed but slight urging to remain. 
 
 My father and the Doctor were soon seated at 
 the card table playing picquet, while Baron Tilling 
 joined me before the grate. 
 
 " I must really reproach you, Baron Tilling; why 
 have you forgotten the way to my house? " 
 
 " I was not invited to repeat my visit." 
 
 "Why I told you that I received on Saturdays." 
 
 " Yes, between two and four; you must excuse 
 me. Countess. I know nothing more abominable 
 than these conventional receptions. You enter a 
 drawing-room filled with strange people, bow to the 
 hostess; then you are pushed to the outer edge of a 
 half-circle. You hear remarks about the weather, 
 and if you chance to see an acquaintance may dis- 
 cuss the same subject. If you make a desperate 
 attempt to exchange a word with the hostess, you 
 are pushed away by some later arrival, and back 
 you go to the half-circle, and — being of the opinion 
 that the subject is not yet exhausted — you begin 
 again with somebody about the weather. Then 
 after ten minutes, when the crowd increases, per- 
 haps you are crowded out by a mamma with four 
 marriageable daughters who cannot find chairs. 
 You make your escape the best way you can. No, 
 Countess, that is more than my weak capacity can 
 endure." 
 
 " You appear to dislike society. I see you nowhere. 
 Perhaps you hate your kind. No, I do not mean 
 quite that. I am sure, from what I have heard you 
 say, that you love all men." 
 
 " I love humanity, but all men — no. There are 
 too many coarse, wicked, cold-blooded wretches 
 
68 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 among them. I cannot love such men, however I 
 may regret that education and environment have 
 prevented their becoming worthy of any love at 
 all." 
 
 " Education and environment? The character 
 depends chiefly on hereditary tendencies, does it 
 not?" 
 
 " What you call inherited tendencies are usually 
 nothing more than environment — inherited environ- 
 ment." 
 
 " Then you hold that a bad man is not responsi- 
 ble for his wickedness, and should not be shunned 
 on its account?" 
 
 " One does not follow the other. He may not 
 be responsible, but still must be avoided." 
 
 There was a pause for a moment. 
 
 "Why did you become a soldier. Baron Tilling?" 
 
 "Ah, there you show how you have read my heart. 
 But it was not I, not Frederick Tilling, now, thirty- 
 nine years old — the man who has seen three cam- 
 paigns — who chose the profession. It was the ten 
 or twelve years old Fritz, whose babyhood was 
 spent among wooden cavalry and leaden soldiers. 
 It was the boy whose father, a general, decorated 
 with many orders, and whose uncle, a lady-killer of 
 a lieutenant, were always asking, ' Youngster, what 
 are you going to be? ' Of course the boy always 
 answered, 'A real soldier with a real saber and a 
 live horse.' " 
 
 "A box of leaden soldiers was brought to my 
 house to-day for my little Rudolph, but I shall not 
 give them to him. But why after Fritz had de- 
 veloped into Frederick did you not abandon a call- 
 ing hateful to you?" 
 
 " Hateful? That is saying too much. I hate the 
 condition of things which requires of men such 
 dreadful duty as the conduct of war; but as this 
 condition exists and is not yet unavoidable, I can- 
 not hate the men who accept these necessary duties 
 and conscientiously fulfill them. If I left the mili- 
 tary service would there be less of war? In my 
 
' ' GROUND ARMS 1" 59 
 
 place another would risk his life. That I can do as 
 well as he." 
 
 " Could you not better serve your fellow-men in 
 some other way? " 
 
 " I do not know. I have not been taught any- 
 thing but the art of war. In any station a man 
 may be of service to his fellow-men. I have oppor- 
 tunity enough to lighten the burdens of those who 
 serve under me. I appreciate the respect with 
 which the world regards my rank. I have had a 
 fortunate career and enjoy my success. I possess 
 no private fortune and as a civilian I could be of 
 no use to myself or others. Why should I abandon 
 my profession?" 
 
 " And yet the destruction of human life is abhor- 
 rent to you? " 
 
 " When it comes to defense of one's own life 
 personal responsibility ends. War is often called 
 wholesale murder, but the individual soldier does 
 not regard himself as a murderer. It is true that 
 the suffering and atrocities of the battlefield fill 
 me with pain and disgust. I suffer, suffer intensely; 
 but so must many a seaman during a storm suffer 
 from sea-sickness; yet if he is but half way a manly 
 fellow he remains on deck and defies and masters 
 his surroundings." 
 
 "Yes, if it must be. But must war be? " 
 
 " That is another question. But the individual 
 must serve, and that necessity gives him the 
 strength to fulfill his obligation." 
 
 We continued our conversation in a low tone 
 that we might not disturb the players. Tilling told 
 of some of the episodes of war, and I quoted 
 Buckle's opinion that with the advancement of 
 civilization the military spirit would decline; but 
 such talk would not have pleased the ear of Gen- 
 eral Althaus. 
 
 "What are you two whispering about?" my 
 father suddenly called out. 
 
 "I am telling old war stories," answered the 
 Baron. 
 
60 ' ' GRO UND ARMS I " 
 
 " Martha is used to that from her childhood. I 
 even go over a few nowadays." 
 
 I rose and glanced at the clock. 
 
 " I must say good-night, Papa," and I withdrew, 
 Tilling accompanying me to the carriage. 
 
 Within the next few days I. visited my old friend, 
 Lori Griesbach, with whom I was intimate, though 
 in many respects there was not the slightest sympa- 
 thy between us. She could not have comprehended 
 many of my ideas of life and duty. How rarely do 
 we find a human being to whom we can show all 
 of our nature. Our friendships are but one-sided 
 and our misconceptions of each other manifold. 
 
 Lori's boy, Xaver, was of the same age as my 
 Rudolph, and they were playfellows; and Lori's 
 tenmonths-old baby, Beatrice, we had jestingly set 
 apart as the future Countess Rudolph Dotzky. 
 
 "Are we really to see you again?" exclaimed 
 Lori as I entered. ''You have become a hermit. 
 I have not had the honor lately of seeing my future 
 son-in-law. Beatrice will be very much offended. 
 What have you been doing? How is Lilli? My 
 husband came home from the club with a fine re- 
 port about her. It seems somebody is in love with 
 her whom we have all supposed was courting you. 
 What a lovely dress! Francine made it of course." 
 
 She chattered on and I replied in kind, at last 
 taking occasion to inquire whether she had ever 
 heard the gossip about Tilling and the princess. 
 
 " Oh that is ancient history," she replied. " It is 
 well known nowadays that the princess is devoted 
 to an actor at the Burg Theatre. Are you inter- 
 ested in Tilling? Better confess. You have been 
 frosty and unfeeling long enough. It would do me 
 good to see you in love. But he is no match for 
 you. Of course you have money enough for both, 
 but you have had brilliant opportunities. 'Have 
 you heard about Frederick Drontheim, the same 
 one who squandered his fortune on the ballet 
 dancer, Grilli? He is going to marry a rich banker's 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 61 
 
 daughter and become a nobleman. Of course no 
 one will visit her. Are you going to the English 
 Embassy this evening? No? Quite right. You 
 never know whom you are going to meet there. It 
 is positively shocking; there are so many queer 
 people, you are not at all sure they are comme il faut. 
 Every Englishman who brings letters to his em- 
 bassador is invited even if he is only a rich com- 
 mercial man. I cannot endure the English — except 
 in the Tauchnitz edition. Have you read "Jane 
 Eyre?" Lovely, is it not? As soon as Beatrice be- 
 gins to talk I shall get an English maid. I am not 
 at all satisfied with my French one. Just imagine, I 
 met her lately on the street when she had taken the 
 baby out, whispering very confidentially with some 
 young fellow — looked as if he might be a clerk. 
 You ought to have seen their consternation when 
 I suddenly appeared before them. Such people are 
 a nuisance. And my dressing maid has had the 
 assurance to tell me she is going to be married. 
 Then I shall have to have a stranger about again. 
 What, are you going already?" 
 
 I was rejoiced to see Tilling's cousin enter my 
 parlor on my next reception day. 
 
 " I have a message for you," she said at once. 
 " Cousin Frederick sends his compliments. He 
 left yesterday." I felt my cheeks grow pale. 
 " Left! Has the regiment been ordered away? " 
 " No, he was obliged to ask for a leave of ab- 
 sence. His mother is very ill and he has gone to 
 Berlin." 
 
 Two days later I received a letter in an unknown 
 hand from Berlin. I knew it was from Baron Til- 
 ling. 
 
 Berlin, Frederick St. 8. 
 30 March, 1863. 
 I o'clock, midnight. 
 My Dear Countess: 
 
 I must write to you of my deep trouble. Why 
 do I turn to you? Have I the right? I do not claim it; 
 it is only the irresistible impulse. You will sympathize 
 
62 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 with me, I am sure. If you had only known you would 
 have loved my mother. And now this tender heart, this 
 clear intellect, this cheerful temper, this sweet dignity 
 must soon pass into the grave — there is no hope. I have 
 spent the whole day at her bedside and shall be by her 
 side this last night. She has suffered much. She is now 
 quiet, for Nature's .powers are benumbed, her pulse has 
 almost ceased to beat. The physician and her sister are 
 with me. Ah! this terrible destruction, this death. We 
 all know that we must die, yet we cannot comprehend 
 why those we love should be taken from us. What my 
 mother has been to me I cannot express to you. 
 
 She knows that she must die. When I arrived this 
 morning she received me with a cry of joy. " My boy, I 
 feared you would come too late." " You will get well. 
 Mother? " I cried. " No, no, it is not possible. Do not 
 waste the sanctity of our last parting by the usual sick- 
 room commonplaces. Let us say good-by." 
 
 I fell weeping on my knees at her bedside. " You weep, 
 my son? See, I do not repeat the customary protest. I 
 am glad that the parting from your best old friend 
 grieves you. It assures me that you will remember me." 
 
 " So long as I live, Mother." 
 
 " Remember, then that you have given me much happi- 
 ness. Excepting the natural anxiety which your child- 
 hood cost me, and the dread of losing you during the 
 time of war, you have brought me only happiness, and 
 have shared all that fate has brought me of other trouble. 
 I bless you for that, my child! " 
 
 Then came one of her dreadful attacks of pain. Her 
 groans and gasps were enough to break one's heart. Yes, 
 he is a frightful enemy — ^this death, and the sight of her 
 suffering brought back to memory all the agony I had 
 seen in the battlefield and in the hospitals. When I 
 reflect that we drive men on to meet death joyously; that 
 we urge full-blooded, happy youth to sacrifice themselves 
 to death, against which weary and enfeebled age protests, 
 I see how base we are. 
 
 This night is frightfully long. If the poor soul could 
 only sleep! but she lies there with open eyes. Every 
 half hour I kneel motionless beside her; then I come 
 away to write a few lines to you — then go back to her. 
 
 It is four o'clock. I have just heard four strokes from 
 every clock tower. Ah! it seems so relentlessly cold and 
 heartless that time strides on for all eternity, while soon 
 for one passionately loved soul time shall cease — for all 
 eternity. But the more this outer world turns from our 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 63 
 
 pain, the more longingly we turn to that other human 
 heart where we hope for consolation. 
 
 Seven o'clock. It is all over. " Farewell, my boy," 
 were her last words. Then she gently shut her eyes and 
 fell asleep. Grieved unto death. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 Frederick Tilling. 
 
 This letter I have still. How worn and faded 
 the page now looks. Not only the wear of twenty 
 years has caused this decay, but the tears and kisses 
 with which I then received it. All doubt was laid 
 at rest, and I was sure of this man's love. 
 
 Three weeks had passed. Conrad Althaus had 
 offered himself to Lilli and had been rejected. He 
 took it far from tragically and was as persistent a 
 visitor as before, and devoted himself assiduously 
 to us whenever we met in society. 
 
 I once expressed my surprise at this loyalty. 
 
 " I am delighted that you are not offended," I 
 said; "but it only proves to me that your attach- 
 ment for Lilli was not very serious, for despised 
 love is usually malicious." 
 
 " You are mistaken, respected cousin, I love Lilli 
 frantically. At first I thought I loved you, but you 
 were so cold-blooded that I next bestowed my 
 affections upon Rosa; but finally I discovered that 
 Lilli was the one, and by this decision I mean to 
 abide to the end of my days." 
 
 " That is very probable." 
 
 "Lilli or no one! " 
 
 "But if she will not marry you, Conrad?" 
 
 " Do you suppose that I am the first man who 
 after receiving the mitten the first time is dis- 
 couraged by its presentation a second, a third, or a 
 fourth — why, she will marry me to get rid of me. 
 Lilli is not a bit in love with me. But it has 
 delighted me that she has refused several good 
 matches, and I am more in love with her than ever. 
 By and by my fidelity will touch her and excite 
 some return; for you are bound to be my sister-in- 
 
64 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 law, Martha. I hope you will not use your influ- 
 ence against me." 
 
 " On the contrary, I approve your plan of perse- 
 verance. That is the way a woman should be won. 
 But our modern young gentlemen want to secure 
 their happiness by idly plucking it like a flower 
 by the wayside." 
 
 Tilling had been in Vienna ten days but had not 
 been near me. I was depressed and unhappy and 
 Aunt Marie reproached me for my low spirits. 
 
 " Have you tickets to see the Foot- Washing? " she 
 asked one day. "To-morrow is Maundy Thursday." 
 
 " Yes, Papa brought us some. But I really don't 
 know whether I care to go." 
 
 " Oh, you must. There is nothing more sublime 
 than this touching ceremony — the triumph of 
 Christian humility. Emperor and Empress stoop- 
 ing to wash the feet of those poor old people sym- 
 bolizes how small and insignificant earthly majesty 
 is compared with the Divine love." 
 
 "You must actually feel humility in order to 
 represent it by throwing yourself on your knees. 
 This ceremony only says: 'What God's Son was 
 in relation to the apostles, that am I, the Emperor, 
 in my relation to these paupers.' It seems to me 
 that this does not express humility." 
 
 " You have such curious notions, Martha. Dur- 
 ing the three years that you have lived in the 
 country, reading bad books, your ideas have be- 
 come completely warped." 
 
 "Bad books!" 
 
 " Yes, that is just the word. The other day when 
 I innocently mentioned to the Archbishop that I 
 had seen on your table a book called the ' Life of 
 Jesus,' by one Strauss, he threw up his hands and 
 cried: ' Merciful heaven, how did you get hold of 
 such a vicious book? ' I blushed fiery red and as- 
 sured him I had not read it, but had only seen it on 
 the table of a relative. ' Then appeal to this rela- 
 tive, by all her hopes of salvation, to throw that 
 book into the fire.' I beg you now, Martha, to do it. 
 Will you burn the book? " 
 
"GROUND ARMS I" 65 
 
 "If we had lived two or three hundred years 
 ago we should see not only the book but the au- 
 thor thrown into the fire. That might have been 
 effectual — temporarily effectual — but only tempor- 
 arily." 
 
 " Why do you not answer? Will you burn the 
 book? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " So short as that — no? " 
 
 "What is the use of talking. We do not under- 
 stand each other at all in this matter, dear Aunt. 
 Let me rather tell you what Rudolph said yester- 
 day." 
 
 And the conversation was happily turned upon a 
 theme of which my good aunt never tired. 
 
 I determined the next day to witness the Foot- 
 Washing. About ten o'clock, dressed in black, as 
 is usual in Holy week, my sister Rosa and I went 
 to the palace to witness the great ceremony. Upon 
 a platform places had been reserved for the mem- 
 bers of the aristocracy and the diplomatic corps. 
 We were thus again safely set apart by ourselves, 
 and exchanged greetings right and left. The gal- 
 lery was also filled by those for whom seats had 
 been reserved, a somewhat mixed crowd, not the 
 cream, as we were. In short, the old caste distinc- 
 tions and privileges must countenance this festival 
 of symbolic humility. 
 
 I do not know whether the others were in the 
 proper religious mood, but I awaited the ceremony 
 with exactly the same feeling with which I antici- 
 pated a new spectacle at the theatre; excited just 
 in the same way as, after exchanging greetings 
 from box to box, we await the rolling up of the 
 curtain. I watched the point from which the choir 
 and solo singers were to appear. The decorations 
 were already in place, that is to say, the long table 
 at which the twelve old men and twelve old women 
 were to be seated. I was glad I had come; it was 
 something new — always a pleasant sensation — and 
 for a time obliterated all melancholy thoughts. 
 
66 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 At the moment when I had forgotten him my eye 
 fell upon Tilling, who entered with the generals 
 and their staffs. He took his place opposite and 
 I endeavored by persistently keeping my eyes on 
 him to attract his attention — but in vain. 
 
 "They are coming, they are coming!" cried 
 Rosa. "How lovely! What a picture! " 
 
 They were the old men and women, clad in an 
 obsolete German fashion. The youngest of the 
 women — so the papers had announced — was eighty- 
 eight; the youngest of the men, eighty-five years 
 old. Wrinkled, toothless, bent — I could not apply 
 Rosa's " charming." What pleased her was the 
 costume. It was admirably adapted to this cere- 
 mony of the Middle Ages. The anachronism was 
 in our presence, our modern clothes, and our mod- 
 ern ideas — we were not a consistent part of the 
 picture. 
 
 After the twenty-four old people had taken their 
 places at the table, a number of decorated and 
 distinguished individuals, mostly old men, privy 
 councilors and gentlemen-in-waiting, came in, — 
 all well-known faces, — Minister "Upon the Whole" 
 among them. Last came the clergy who were to 
 officiate at the ceremony. 
 
 Now came the most important figures in this 
 pageant — the imperial couple — certainly the hand- 
 somest pair on the continent. They were attended 
 by a brilliant group of archdukes and duchesses. 
 The ceremony could now proceed. Stewards and 
 pages brought in bowls filled with food, and the 
 Emperor and Empress placed them before the old 
 people. It was more of a picture than ever. The 
 utensils, the character of the food and the attire 
 of the pages reminded one of certain famous pict- 
 ures of festal occasions painted in the Renais- 
 sance style. 
 
 Scarcely were the dishes set before the people 
 when the table was again cleared, which work, as a 
 lesson in humility, was performed by the arch- 
 dukes. Thereupon the table was carried out and 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 67 
 
 the scenic effect proper of the play — the Foot Wash- 
 ing — begun. In truth it was but the counterfeit 
 presentment of washing, as the meal had been a 
 counterfeit one. Kneeling upon the floor the Em- 
 peror lightly rubbed a towel over the feet of the 
 old men, after an attendant priest had pretended to 
 pour water out of a consecrated vessel. Slipping 
 along the floor from the first to the twelfth, the 
 Emperor continued, while the Empress in the same 
 humble position followed this procedure with the 
 old women. The proper music followed the read- 
 ing by the Court Chaplain of the Gospel for the 
 day. 
 
 How gladly would I for a few moments have ex- 
 changed places with one of the old people in order 
 to experience the effect upon them of this quaint 
 old costume, this brilliant gathering assembled to 
 witness their Majesties at their feet — to get their 
 point of view, in fact. Probably it was only a be- 
 wildered half dream, a little pleasure and confused 
 pain, or a complete suspension of strength which 
 was experienced by the poor, feeble old souls. The 
 only real things about the whole affair were the red 
 silk purses with thirty pieces of silver, thrown round 
 the necks of the old people by their Majesties to 
 conclude the ceremony, and the permission which 
 was given to carry home the bowls of food. 
 
 The ceremony was soon over and was followed 
 by a whirl of greetings, congratulations and polite 
 nothings, after which the guests hastened away. 
 We found Tilling waiting to see us, and he thanked 
 me for the funeral wreath I had sent to Berlin. I 
 offered him my hand, and as we were seated in my 
 carriage I leaned forward to say, though with the 
 greatest effort: 
 
 " I shall be at home Sunday, between two and 
 three." 
 
 He bowed silently and we drove away. When he 
 came, the following Sunday, he was reticent and 
 cold, formally apologized for his boldness in writ- 
 ing from Berlin, and when gently questioned spoke 
 
68 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 somewhat of his mother's life, but of what I hoped 
 to hear — not a word. We parted with restraint, 
 and I found poor consolation for my disappointed, 
 troubled spirit in declaring to my journal that I had 
 deceived myself. 
 
 Easter Monday was favored by Heaven with the 
 loveliest of skies, and the usual drive through the 
 Prater — which it was customary to make a sort of 
 social inaugural of the great first of May Corso — 
 was more than ordinarily brilliant. All this brill- 
 iancy, this joy in mere existence and in the fresh 
 springtime which inspired the beautiful and dash- 
 ing occupants of the numerous carriages, intensified 
 by contrast the sadness which depressed my spirit. 
 And yet I would not have surrendered this melan- 
 choly in exchange for the light heart of two months 
 earlier — before I met Tilling. For even if my love 
 should prove — what from all present prospects it 
 promised to be — an unhappy one, still it was love, 
 that is, the climax of life's intensity. 
 
 Some days later, when my parlors were filled 
 with other guests, Tilling was announced. My 
 delight in seeing him was speedily clouded by the 
 announcement that this was a final visit, as he ex- 
 pected to leave Vienna in a few days for another 
 post in Hungary. 
 
 " That is a rash conclusion. What has Vienna 
 done that you wish to leave? " I asked, with an 
 effort at self-control. 
 
 " It is too gay and pleasure-loving. I am not in 
 the mood to join in it and it depresses me." 
 
 " The best thing to shake that out of you, Til- 
 ling," said my father, "would be a right fresh, breezy 
 war; but unfortunately there seems no prospect of 
 one." 
 
 " Chance is always in your favor, Colonel Tilling," 
 said a cabinet minister present; "not that there are 
 any dark clouds on the horizon now, but it takes 
 but a little, in the present condition of European 
 politics, to cause an outbreak. As Minister of the 
 Interior I am naturally anxious for peace, but I am 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 69 
 
 willing to recognize the different standpoint from 
 which military men regard it." 
 
 " Allow me to assure your Excellency," inter- 
 rupted Tilling, "that I am far from desiring war, 
 and I protest against the idea that the military 
 standpoint should be any different from that of the 
 humane one. We are here to defend our country 
 when attacked, just as the fire department stands 
 in readiness to put out a fire. Both war and fire 
 are misfortunes with which no humane man could 
 wish to afflict his fellow creatures. Peace is the 
 highest good, or rather it is the absence of the 
 greatest evil. It is the only condition which con- 
 duces to the welfare of the whole nation, and yet 
 you would recognize the right of a portion of the 
 people — the army — from motives of grossly per- 
 sonal ambition, to desire to precipitate the greatest 
 misery and suffering upon all. To carry on war in 
 order that the army may be kept busy and satisfied 
 is like applying the torch to houses in order to 
 employ the fire department." 
 
 " Your comparison is not apt, Lieutenant-Colo- 
 nel," said my father, laying stress upon the title, as 
 if wishing to remind Tilling of his military duty. 
 " Fires cause only disaster, while wars tend to in- 
 crease the power and glory of the country. How 
 could nations otherwise develop and extend their 
 territory except through conquest? Personal am- 
 bition is not the only motive of the gallant soldier; 
 above all it is the national, the patriotic spirit 
 which leads him to desire war." 
 
 "Oh, this love of country!" exclaimed Tilling 
 impatiently. " I do not see by what right the mili- 
 tary profession should claim patriotism as their own 
 special and peculiar quality. Every one loves the 
 soil upon which he has taken root; all wish, ar- 
 dently wish, for the happiness, development and 
 glory of their native land. There are other ways 
 to fame than through violence; we can be proud of 
 other things than feats of war. Personally I ad- 
 mire Anastasius Griin more than any commanding 
 general I can remember." 
 
70 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 " How can you compare a poet and a soldier,'' 
 exclaimed my father. 
 
 " The bloodless crown of laurel is, undoubtedly, 
 the finer," answered Tilling. 
 
 " But, Baron Tilling," expostulated Aunt Marie, 
 "I never heard a soldier talk so. What would 
 become of the martial spirit?" 
 
 " When I was a nineteen-year-old boy, making 
 my first campaign, I was filled with it. After I had 
 seen the reality of the slaughter, and witnessed the 
 brutality of war, that martial spirit died out and I 
 entered upon every other campaign with loyalty, 
 but with no martial ardor." 
 
 ■ " Now, see here. Tilling," replied my father, " I 
 have been through as many campaigns as you and 
 witnessed all their terrors, but I went into the last, 
 even when getting to be an old man, with the same 
 zeal as the first." 
 
 " Pardon me. Excellency, but you belong to an 
 older generation, a generation when the martial 
 spirit was much stronger than with us, and to a 
 time when that sympathy with humanity which 
 now permeates all society, and anxiously desires to 
 ameliorate all misery, had not yet been born." 
 
 " What can you do? Suffering must exist for- 
 ever. You cannot get rid of it any more than you 
 can banish war." 
 
 " There, Count Althaus, with those words you 
 define the old attitude, now fortunately untenable, 
 with which the past met every social evil — that 
 of resignation to what it deemed unavoidable and 
 founded on the nature of things. But so soon as 
 the heart begins to question, 'Is it necessary?' no 
 longer can that heart cold-bloodedly contemplate 
 it. With sympathy grows up a sort of penitence — 
 not personal, but which one might define as the 
 reproach of the conscience of the times." 
 
 My father shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " That is too lofty for me. I can assure you 
 that not only we grandfathers look back with pride 
 and joy on all our past campaigns, but the very 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 71 
 
 youngest of our soldiers to-day, when asked if he 
 goes into the field willingly, would reply: 'Will- 
 ingly — yes, joyfully.' " 
 
 "The youngest — that is true. Have we not 
 drilled enthusiasm into them at school. And of the 
 others many would reply 'willingly' for fear of the 
 reputation of cowardice did they speak the truth." 
 
 " Yes," said Lilli with a shudder, " I should be 
 afraid. It must be horrible to stand with bullets 
 flying around you, any moment awaiting death." 
 
 "That all sounds very natural from girlish lips," 
 answered Tilling. " But we must repress all in- 
 stinctive feeling. Soldiers must deny all sympathy 
 for the suffering of friend or foe, for next to fear, 
 every sentiment of tenderness or mercy is a like 
 reproach." 
 
 " Only in war, dear Tilling," said my father, 
 " only in war; in private life, thank God, we have 
 tender hearts." 
 
 "Yes, I know; that is a sort of hocus-pocus trans- 
 formation. So soon as war is declared one hears 
 of all atrocities with a careless ' it is to be expected 
 — it matters not.' Murder is no longer murder; 
 robbery is no longer robbery — but requisition; 
 burning villages represents only 'secured position.' 
 Of all defiance of the moral law, of humanity, or of 
 decency, we hear only so long as the contest lasts, 
 'It is of no consequence.' 'It is to be expected!* 
 But when in the abyss of such general demoraliza- 
 tion there arises the consciousness that it does mat- 
 ter to be rid of this mass of crime and misery, and 
 responsibility in its existence, one would almost 
 welcome death." 
 
 " Certainly it is true," said Aunt Marie reflect- 
 ively. "Such commands as: Thou shalt not kill — 
 Thou shalt not steal — Love thy neighbor as thyself 
 — Forgive thine enemies " 
 
 " Do not apply," said Tilling. " And those whose 
 profession it is to teach these laws are the first to 
 consecrate our banners and call down the blessing 
 of Heaven upon our slaughter fields." 
 
72 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 ■'And with justice," said my father, "for the God 
 of the Bible is the God of Battles, the Lord of Hosts. 
 It is he who has commanded us to draw the sword; 
 it is he " 
 
 "Whose decrees men are always construing to 
 suit their own convenience, and to whom they then 
 ascribe the great law of love. Just so vindictive, ex- 
 actly so inconsequent, exactly so childish as them- 
 selves, is the imaginary God whom human beings 
 have set up as the embodiment of even-handed 
 justice and mercy. But forgive me, Countess," said 
 Tilling rising, "that I have caused so wearisome a 
 discussion. I must say good-by." 
 
 I was overcome with emotion. How could it be 
 possible to allow this man, dearer to me than ever, 
 to go from me without one word of protest. 
 
 I rose with him and walking slowly down the 
 room said quietly: 
 
 "I must show you the photograph I told you 
 about the other day." 
 
 Tilling looked surprised, but followed me to a 
 table at a distance from the other guests. 
 
 " I cannot let you go. I must speak to you." 
 
 " As you will. Countess. I am listening." 
 
 " No, not now. You must come to-morrow at 
 this hour." 
 
 He appeared to waver. 
 
 "I insist. By the memory of your mother whose 
 loss I mourned with you." 
 
 " O Martha! " 
 
 We understood each other, and bowing to the 
 company Tilling withdrew. 
 
 I looked forward to the meeting with a mingling 
 of impatience and apprehension. Suppose Til- 
 ling were to propose the critical question, "Now 
 then. Countess, what did you wish to say to me?" 
 I could not say to the man: "I have to inform you 
 that I am in love with you; therefore I desire you 
 to remain." While I was reflecting upon this diffi- 
 culty Tilling was announced. 
 
 " I am happy to see you, Baron Tilling." 
 
"GROUND ARMS I" 73 
 
 "And I am happy that you invited me to come in 
 the name of my mother. I have determined to 
 tell you all that troubles me. I — " 
 
 " Well — why do you hesitate? " 
 
 " It is more diflScult to speak than I thought." 
 
 " You showed some confidence in me when you 
 wrote during that sad night when you watched by 
 your mother's deathbed. How does it happen you 
 have no faith in me now? " 
 
 "In that dreadful hour I forgot myself; since 
 then my old timidity has taken possession of me. 
 I see now I had no right, and for fear of repeating 
 my offense I was going away." 
 
 "So it seems; you appear to avoid me — why?" 
 
 " Why? Because — because I love you." 
 
 I made no response and Tilling was silent. 
 Desperately I broke the silence. 
 
 "Why were you going to leave Vienna?" 
 
 "For the same reason." 
 
 " Could you not now determine otherwise? " 
 
 "Yes, I could — the transfer has not yet been 
 ordered." 
 
 " Then remain." 
 
 He grasped my hand — " Martha." 
 
 At this moment my father opened the door. 
 
 "You are there? The servant said you were 
 not at home, but I told him you expected me. 
 Good day, Tilling. After last night's farewell I 
 am surprised to see you. I have an important 
 family affair to report to you, Martha." 
 
 I wished papa with his family matter at the an- 
 tipodes. Tilling rose. 
 
 " When cqn I see you again? " he asked in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " To-morrow at nine o'clock, on horseback in the 
 Prater," I replied quickly in the same tone. 
 
 " Now what does this mean? " demanded my 
 father as the door closed after Tilling. 
 
 " What is the family affair you speak of? " 
 
 " It is this very thing. I wanted to drive your 
 admirer away in order to express my opinion. I 
 
74 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 regard it as a very important matter that you. 
 Countess Dotzky, born Althaus, should not imperil 
 your reputation." 
 
 "Allow me to tell you, Father, that the surest 
 protection of my honor is my son, Rudolph, and to 
 remind you that I am responsible to no one for my 
 actions. I have no intention of accepting a lover, 
 but I do mean to marry and to choose as my own 
 heart dictates." ' 
 
 "Marry Tilling! What are you thinking about? 
 That would be a family misfortune." 
 
 " Why, what would you have? Lately you offered 
 me a captain, a lieutenant, and a major. Tilling 
 outranks them all — he is lieutenant-colonel." 
 
 " So much the worse. A man with his opinions 
 has no business to be in the army; they border on 
 treason. Perhaps he would like to resign, and as 
 he has no property a rich widow is an enticing 
 prize. But I hope to God that . a woman, the 
 daughter of an old soldier who has fought in four 
 wars and is willing to go out again, and the widow 
 of a gallant young soldier who died on the field of 
 honor a noble death, — will not so sacrifice herself." 
 
 I was profoundly outraged. All this repetition of 
 hollow phrases, meeting me at every turn of life, 
 sickened and disgusted me. It was impossible to 
 make my father understand the ethical position of 
 Tilling as a man and thinker, and useless to argue 
 with him. I was fortunately free, and in my great 
 happiness I could not allow such paltry attacks to 
 trouble me. 
 
 It was not quite 'nine o'clock when I left my car- 
 riage, at the entrance of the Prater bridle path, and 
 mounted my horse, which had been sent in advance. 
 I had scarce ridden a hundred yards when I heard 
 the sharp trot of a horse behind me. It was the 
 inevitable Conrad. The meeting was not a joyful 
 one to me. Certainly I did not own the Prater, 
 and on such lovely mornings the bridle path was 
 apt to be thronged. How could I have been so 
 
"GROUND ARMS I" 75 
 
 foolish as to expect an undisturbed rendezvous. 
 Althaus had drawn his horse up to the gait of 
 mine, evidently determined to be my faithful cava- 
 lier. I saw Tilling galloping in the distance. 
 
 " Cousin, is it not true I have been a good ally of 
 yours. You know what pains I have taken to inter- 
 est Lilli in you." 
 
 "Yes, noblest of cousins." 
 
 " Only last night I seized the opportunity to 
 exploit your good qualities, — for you are a fine fel- 
 low, charming, considerate " 
 
 " Now what do you want of me? " 
 
 "That you give your horse a good whipping and 
 gallop on." 
 
 Tilling was very close. Conrad looked at him, 
 then at me, and without saying a word, he laugh- 
 ingly nodded and flew away as if he were pos- 
 sessed. 
 
 " That Althaus again," said Tilling in a dissatis- 
 fied tone. "Did he leave because he saw me, or 
 has his horse run away?" 
 
 " I sent him away because " 
 
 " Countess Martha, do you know that the world 
 says he is in love with his cousin?" 
 
 "That is true." 
 
 "And courts her furiously." 
 
 " That is also true." 
 
 "And not hopelessly." 
 
 " Not quite hopelessly." 
 
 Tilling was silent. I looked at him laughingly. 
 
 "Your looks contradict your last words," he 
 said after a pause, " for your glance seems to say, 
 'Althaus loves me hopelessly.'" 
 
 " He does not love me at all. The object of his 
 devotion is my sister Lilli." 
 
 " You roll a stone from my heart. This man was 
 the cause of my wishing to leave Vienna. I could 
 not endure to see " 
 
 " What other grounds had you for leaving Vi- 
 enna?" I interrupted. 
 
 " The dread that I could no longer conceal my 
 
76 "GROUND ARM SI" 
 
 passion for you — that I might make myself both 
 ridiculous and unhappy." 
 
 " Are you unhappy this morning? " 
 
 "O Martha! Since yesterday I have lived in such 
 a tumult of emotion that I have scarce known my- 
 self. It has not been without anxiety — as when 
 one has pleasant dreams — that I might be suddenly 
 awakened to a painful reality. What prospects has 
 such a love as mine. What can I offer you? To- 
 morrow, or perhaps a little later, you will with- 
 draw the undeserved favor and I will be plunged 
 into the depths of despair. I do not know myself 
 when I talk in such an extravagant style. I have 
 been usually a cool, prudent man, the enemy of all 
 excess of feeling; it is in your power to make me 
 happy or miserable." 
 
 " Relieve me from one doubt, the princess? " 
 
 " Oh, have you heard that nonsense? " 
 
 " Of course you would deny it. That is your 
 duty," 
 
 " The lady in question, whose heart is now inter- 
 ested in the Bury Theatre — for how long no one 
 knows, for she is fickle — is so well known that the 
 most discreet of men would not feel obliged to 
 maintain the silence of the grave, so you may be- 
 lieve me. But reflect: would I have left Vienna 
 if the report were true?" 
 
 "Jealousy knows no logic. Is it likely I had in- 
 vited you to meet me if I had expected to see my 
 cousin Conrad? I cannot comprehend why you 
 should have kept away from me." 
 
 " Because I never dared hope that I might win 
 you. Only when you appealed to me in the name 
 of my mother did I understand that you cared a 
 little — just a little — for me." 
 
 " So, if I had not ' thrown myself at your head ' 
 you would not have made the attempt? " 
 
 " You have so many admirers — I did not want to 
 be counted among them." 
 
 " Oh, they do not amount to anything. They are 
 mostly only interested in the rich widow " 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" Tl 
 
 " There, now, you have touched the very point 
 which held me back — a rich widow, and I entirely 
 without fortune. I would rather be miserable 
 through an unfortunate attachment than be ac- 
 cused by the world and by the woman I worship 
 of the motive you ascribe to your other admirers." 
 
 "My dear, my noble Tilling. It would not be 
 possible for me to make such an accusation." 
 
 From the Prater I drove to my father's house. I 
 realized that the announcement I had to make 
 would be unpleasant to him, but I was determined 
 to have it over as soon as possible. My father, 
 being a late riser, was reading the paper while at 
 breakfast. Aunt Marie was also present. Both 
 looked up with astonishment at my abrupt entrance. 
 
 " I have been riding in the Prater," I explained, 
 as I embraced them both, " where an event oc- 
 curred of which I wish to inform you without 
 delay." 
 
 " Indeed," said my father dryly as he lit a cigar, 
 "so formal an announcement excites the liveliest 
 curiosity." 
 
 " I have promised to marry " 
 
 Aunt Marie threw up her hands and my father, 
 frowning, exclaimed: 
 
 " I can only hope " — he began. 
 
 I would not allow him to continue. " I have 
 promised to marry a man whom I love and respect 
 with all my heart, who I am sure will make me 
 happy — Baron Frederick von Tilling." 
 
 My father sprang up: "After all I said to you 
 yesterday." 
 
 Aunt Marie shook her head. " I had rather have 
 heard another name. In the first place Baron Tilling 
 is not a good match; he has nothing, and his views 
 are so peculiar." 
 
 " His principles and views in general are after 
 my own heart, and I am not hunting a good match, 
 as you call it. But Father, my dear old father, do 
 not look so angry; do not mar my happiness by 
 making me feel your displeasure." 
 
78 • ' GRO UND ARM SI " 
 
 " But, child," he said, in somewhat softened tone, 
 for a little tenderness usually disarmed him, "I 
 only desire your happiness. I could not be happy 
 with a man who is not heart and soul a soldier." 
 
 "You do not have to marry him," remarked Aunt 
 Marie judicially. "His soldier notions are of no 
 consequence," she added. " But I could not be 
 happy with a man who could speak of the God of 
 the Bible with such lack of reverence." 
 
 " Allow me to remark, dear Aunt, that you do 
 not have to marry him either." 
 
 "Each man's desire is his own heaven," sighed 
 my father as he seated himself. " I suppose he 
 will resign." 
 
 ''We have not spoken of it, and I most earnestly 
 desire it, but I fear he will not." 
 
 " When I remember that you rejected a prince," 
 ejaculated Aunt Marie, "and now instead of rising 
 will descend in the social scale! " 
 
 " How unkind you both are! and I had believed 
 that you loved me. Here I come to you, the first 
 time since poor Arno's death, with the assurance 
 that I am happy, and instead of rejoicing you drag 
 out all sorts of bitter reasons to reproach me with 
 — the military service, Jehovah, social position! " 
 
 At the end of half an hour I succeeded in some- 
 what reconciling the two old people to the inevi- 
 table, and my father promised to come to my house 
 the same evening to receive his future son-in-law. 
 I invited all my relatives to tea and presented Til- 
 ling to them as my betrothed. 
 
 Rosa and Lilli were delighted; Conrad Althaus 
 cried: " Bravo, Martha! and you, Lilli, profit by the 
 example." My father was kind and courteous, and 
 Aunt Marie overflowing with sentiment. 
 
 "Marriages are made in heaven," she said, "and 
 happen just as they are ordained. With God's 
 blessing you will be happy, and I shall pray inces- 
 santly that his blessing may descend upon you." 
 
 My son Rudolph was presented to his "new 
 papa," and Frederick lifted him in his arms, kiss- 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 79 
 
 ing him as he said: "We will both try, my little 
 fellow, to make a good man of you." 
 
 In the course of the evening my father hinted at 
 his idea that Tilling would retire from the service. 
 
 Frederick threw up his head in astonishment. 
 
 "Resign — abandon my career! I have no other. 
 One does not need to be a friend of war to do faith- 
 ful service in the army." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know; just as you said lately the 
 fireman need not want to set a house on fire." 
 
 "I could suggest other illustrations: need a phy- 
 sician love cancers and typhus, or a judge have 
 a particular zest for burglary and murder? But 
 abandon my profession! What reason could I have 
 for doing so?" 
 
 "Reason enough," said Aunt Marie, "to spare 
 your wife garrison life and anxiety in case of war. 
 Although this anxiety is nonsertse; for if a man 
 is destined to live to old age, he will come safely 
 through all dangers." 
 
 "The reasons given are certainly important; it 
 will be my earnest endeavor to spare my wife as 
 much as possible all the anxieties of life. But the 
 unpleasant circumstance of having a husband with- 
 out profession or occupation would be worse than 
 garrison life. And the risk that my resignation 
 would be ascribed to indolence or cowardice would 
 be far more than the dangers of a campaign. I 
 have never thought of such a thing for a moment. 
 I trust you have not, Martha? " 
 
 "Suppose I made it a condition?" 
 
 "You would not do that? I should be obliged to 
 sacrifice my happiness. You are rich, I possess 
 nothing except my pay and the prospect of pro- 
 motion; I will not surrender these. It would be a 
 lowering of my dignity and contrary to my idea of 
 honor." 
 
 "Right, my son; now I am reconciled!" exclaimed 
 my father. " It would be an outrage to abandon 
 your career. You will soon be colonel, probably a 
 general, and may hope to be division commander 
 
80 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 or minister of war. That will give your wife a 
 notable position." 
 
 I was silent. I was little affected by the prospect 
 of being the wife of a division commander. I would 
 far rather live in retirement upon one of our estates; 
 still the standpoint of Frederick met my approval. 
 
 "Yes, quite reconciled," continued my father. 
 " For to tell the truth — now you need not look so 
 black — I thought you would desire to retire to pri- 
 vate life. But so far as Martha is concerned, you 
 could scarce expect a soldier's daughter and a 
 soldier's widow to be willing to join the ranks of 
 the civilians." 
 
 Tilling laughed. He glanced at me as if to say, 
 "I know you better," but said aloud: 
 
 " Oh, I presume she fell in love with my uni- 
 form." 
 
 We were married in September of the same year. 
 My husband had two months' leave of absence. 
 We spent a week in Berlin, aVid our first visit there 
 was to the sister of Frederick's mother. I could 
 judge from the amiability and intellectual character 
 of this lady what Frederick's mother must have 
 been, as they were said greatly to resemble each 
 other. Frau Cornelia von Tessow was the widow 
 of a Prussian general; she had an only son who 
 had just become a lieutenant. I have never seen 
 a handsomer young man than Gottfried Tessow. 
 The devotion of mother and son was touching. 
 
 " How can a mother who loves her son as the very 
 apple of her eye allow him to adopt so dangerous 
 a profession as that of arms," I said to Frederick. 
 
 "There are some facts which no one considers, 
 some risks which no one ever contemplates. One 
 of these is the thought of the danger of the 
 soldier's life. If the idea is even suggested, one 
 feels as if it were unmanly and cowardly to con- 
 sider it at all. It has now become so universally 
 accepted that this danger must be met, and at the 
 same time the percentage of those who fall is so 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 81 
 
 much less than of those who escape, that no one 
 ever thinks about the chances of death. Every 
 human being knows he must some time die, and 
 really, what pleasanter and more reputable position 
 can a Prussian nobleman attain than that of a cav- 
 alry officer." 
 
 We spent our time at the different fashionable 
 resorts and I discovered new accomplishments in 
 Frederick, that he spoke English and French well, 
 while his refined enjoyment of music, art, and every 
 fresh landscape added to my delight. 
 
 Upon our return we joined Frederick's regiment, 
 then stationed at Olmiitz. No congenial compan- 
 ionship was to be found in the place, and we with- 
 drew entirely from society. Excepting the hours 
 necessarily spent by Frederick in his official duties, 
 and by myself with my little Rudolph, we devoted 
 our whole time to each other. I exchanged the 
 first necessary visits of ceremony with the ladies 
 of the garrison, but would not allow an intimate 
 acquaintance. I could not endure the scandal, 
 servant-girl stories, and general gossip of their 
 coffee parties, and Frederick had an equal distaste 
 for the card and drinking parties of the officers. 
 We had other and better things to do. The world 
 in which we moved as we sat by our steaming tea- 
 kettle was millions of miles apart from that of the 
 Olmiitz garrison. We joyfully took up a course of 
 scientific reading, and with liveliest sympathy kept 
 pace with the advancing thought of the world's 
 earnest workers; not alone in science, but in all the 
 social and philanthropic development of the age 
 we took an interested part. 
 
 The Christmas holidays we spent at my father's 
 house in Vienna. On Christmas Eve the family 
 were joined by Doctor Bresser and his Excellency 
 " Upon the Whole," who chanced, in answer to a 
 casual question, to say in my hearing: 
 
 " It is true. There are heavy, dark, and porten- 
 tous clouds on the political horizon." 
 
83 "GROUND ARMSl" 
 
 I shrank in terror. 
 
 "What! How! What do you mean?" I cried 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Denmark is getting too audacious." 
 
 "Ah, Denmark," I said, relieved. "The storm 
 does not threaten us. It is in any event distress- 
 ing to hear of a prospect of war, but when I am 
 told the Danes and not the Austrians are concerned, 
 I feel compassion but not terro?." 
 
 " You need not alarm yourself," cried my father, 
 "in case Austria, is drawn into it. If we must 
 maintain the rights of Schleswig-Holstein against 
 the violence of Denmark, we shall not lose any- 
 thing. There will be no risk of loss of territory 
 even in the event of an unfortunate campaign." 
 
 " How can you believe, Father, that if our troops 
 march over the border I would think of any such 
 thing as Austrian territory, Schleswig-Holstein 
 rights, or Danish arrogance? I should see but one 
 thing, the danger of those I love. And that re- 
 mains the same, no matter upon what grounds war 
 is begun." 
 
 " My child, the fate of the individual cannot be 
 considered when events involving the world's his- 
 tory are at stake. So soon as war breaks out, 
 whether this or that man fall becomes of no con- 
 sequence in view of the mighty question whether 
 the cause of our own land shall be lost or won. 
 And, as I said, should we cross swords with the 
 Danes, nothing is lost and we may thereby extend 
 our influence in the German Alliance. I dream 
 continually of the time when the Hapsburgs shall 
 recover the German imperial crown, to which they 
 are entitled. I would regard the war with Den- 
 mark a fit opportunity, not only to wipe out the 
 disgrace of '59, but also so to secure our position 
 in the German empire that we could indemnify 
 ourselves for the loss of Lombardy, and perhaps, — 
 who knows? — so increase our power that we might 
 reconquer that province." 
 
 I looked across the room where Frederick, un- 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 83 
 
 conscious of this conversation, was having a laugh- 
 ing wit encounter with Lilli. An agonizing pain 
 possessed my soul; a pain which in one moment 
 revealed a host of possibilities. War, — and he, my 
 all, must go, to be wounded, perhaps killed. Our 
 child, yet unborn, to be brought fatherless into the 
 world, — our happiness, so short-lived, to be cut 
 off, — this danger in one balance, and in the other? 
 Austria's position in the German Alliance, the inde- 
 pendence of Schleswig-Holstein, "fresh laurels in 
 the army's crown of glory " — a few poor phrases 
 for school orations and army proclamations. And 
 yet victory or defeat remained alike uncertain. 
 Not only my individual suffering would be staked 
 against the pretended welfare of the realm, but 
 that of thousands upon thousands of other individ- 
 uals in my own and in the enemy's country. Ah, 
 if it were only possible to turn aside this monstrous 
 thing? If all united — all reasonable, just, and right- 
 eous folk — to banish this threatening, hideous evil. 
 
 " Tell me," I said to his Excellency, " has the 
 matter gone so far? Do you diplomatists and poli- 
 ticians not know how to prevent this conflict?" 
 
 " Do you think. Baroness, that it is always our 
 duty to maintain peace? It would be a noble mis- 
 sion, but impracticable. We are charged to guard 
 the interests of our respective states and dynasties, 
 to watch against any threatened infringement of 
 their powers, and to seize every opportunity for 
 supremacy, jealously to maintain the honor of the 
 land, and to revenge insult." 
 
 " In short," I said bitterly, " according to the 
 maxims of war, to injure the enemy — that is, every 
 other state — to the utmost of your ability, and if 
 the struggle is prospective, to maintain, stiff-neck- 
 edly, that you are in the right, even if well aware 
 that you are in the wrong." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Until both sides lose patience and fly at each 
 other's throats. It is horrible." 
 
84 ''GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 " It is the only resource. How else could a con- 
 test between nations be decided?" 
 
 " How are contests between respectable citizens 
 settled?" 
 
 "Through courts of law. The nations recog- 
 nize none such." 
 
 "Just as the barbarian does not," exclaimed 
 Doctor Bresser. " Nations are in their mutual in- 
 tercourse still uncivilized, and it will be a long time 
 before they will rise to the sense of the justice of 
 an international tribunal." 
 
 " That will never be," said my father. " There are 
 things that can only be fought out, and cannot be 
 settled by legal process. Even were the attempt 
 made to establish such a jurisdiction, the more 
 powerful states would never submit to it any more 
 than two gentlemen, one of whom had insulted the 
 other, would carry their difference into the courts. 
 They would simply choose their seconds and settle 
 it with their swords." 
 
 "The duel is a barbarous, an inhuman custom," 
 
 "You cannot alter it. Doctor." 
 
 " I would at least not approve it, your Excellency." 
 
 " What do you say, Frederick," said my father, 
 turning to his son-in-law. "Are you of the opinion 
 that after a box on the ear you should go into the 
 courts and get five florin damages." 
 
 "I would not do it." 
 
 "You would challenge the offender?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 " Aha, Martha! aha, Doctor ! " cried my father 
 triumphantly. " Did you hear? Even Tilling, who- 
 is no friend of war, acknowledges to being an advo- 
 cate of the duel." 
 
 " An advocate? I have not said that. I only said,^ 
 that in certain cases I would of course resort to 
 the duel — as I have several times been obliged 
 to do, just as I have from loyal obligation entered 
 every campaign. I conform to popular prejudice 
 as to laws of honor. But I do not mean it to be 
 understood that this same code of honor conforms 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 85 
 
 to my ideal. By-and-by, when this ideal attains 
 the mastery, the receiver of an unmerited injury 
 will not be regarded as disgraced — only upon the 
 boorish offender the disgrace will fall. It will then 
 be considered as immoral to seek personal revenge, 
 as in other respects in cultivated society it is intol- 
 erable to take the law into one's own hands." 
 
 "We shall wait a long time for that," said my 
 father, " so long as an aristocracy exists." 
 
 " That will not be forever," muttered the Doctor. 
 
 "Oh, so you would abolish the aristocracy?" 
 
 " Yes, the feudal. The future needs no nobility." 
 
 " So much the more it needs noble men," added 
 Frederick. 
 
 " And this new race will accept a box on the ear?" 
 
 " There will be no one to offer one." 
 
 " And they will not defend themselves when a 
 neighboring state falls foul of them?" 
 
 "No neighboring states will attack them, just 
 as none of our neighbors attack us at our country 
 seats, and as the lord of the castle no longer now- 
 adays keeps his troop of horse." 
 
 " The state of the future will maintain no stand- 
 ing armies? What, then, will become of you lieu- 
 tenant-colonels? " 
 
 " What has become of the feudal squires? " 
 
86 "GROUND ARMSl" 
 
 THIRD BOOK. 
 
 1864. 
 
 WE remained in Vienna two weeks. It was no 
 happy time for me. This fatal prospect of 
 war benumbed every hopeful and joyous thought; 
 the instability of my happiness overmastered me. 
 The possibilities, which always surround us, of sick- 
 ness and death, of disaster by fire or flood — nature's 
 elemental threats — we become so hardened to that 
 we live with a comfortable sense of security. Why 
 has mankind willfully fixed other barriers to hap- 
 piness and added to natural hazards, such as vol- 
 canoes and tornadoes, the possibility of war? 
 
 I could no longer accept this as the decree of fate. 
 Instead of resignation I felt only pain and horror. 
 Why should we concern ourselves about the con- 
 stitution of Denmark and Schleswig-Holstein? Of 
 what consequence to us was it whether the " Pro- 
 tocol Prince" repealed or confirmed the constitu- 
 tional law of the thirteenth of November, 1863? 
 All the newspapers were full of discussions of this 
 question as if it were the most important matter in 
 the world, so that people had no time to consider 
 whether it was worth while to expose our husbands 
 and sons to the risk of being shot down. Only 
 momentarily could I become reconciled to this view 
 of the thing when the idea of duty was presented 
 to my mind. True we belonged to the German 
 Alliance, and as German brothers we must defend 
 the rights of oppressed German kindred. The 
 national spirit justified the use of force; there was 
 an obligation from this standpoint. By desperately 
 clinging to this idea the oppressive anxiety of my 
 heart was somewhat lulled. Had I anticipated that 
 two years later this whole German brotherhood 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 87 
 
 would be dissolved into fragments and become the 
 bitterest enemies, and that the present Austrian 
 hatred of Denmark would be exceeded by Austrian 
 hatred of Prussia, I would have even then discov- 
 ered that the motives which are proclaimed as jus- 
 tification of war are nothing more than phrases. 
 
 On the tenth of January we returned to Olmiitz. 
 There was no longer any doubt about the war. 
 Among the officers and their wives there was great 
 excitement, chiefly of a pleasurable kind. The 
 opportunity for promotion and distinction made 
 all jubilant, whether the motive was ambition, rest- 
 less desire for action, or the longing for increase 
 of pay. 
 
 " It will be a famous war," said the Colonel, 
 "and will be immensely popular. There will be 
 no damage to our territory; the seat of war is on 
 foreign soil. Under such circumstances it is a 
 double pleasure to fight." 
 
 "What fills me with enthusiasm," said a young 
 lieutenant, "is the noble motive: the defense of 
 our German brothers. As the Prussians unite with 
 us, we are secure of victory, and the national bonds 
 will be drawn still closer. It is the national idea." 
 
 "Do not say much about that," replied the Col- 
 onel almost sternly. " That kind of a swindle does 
 not suit an Austrian. It was just that sort of a 
 hobby-horse that Louis Napoleon rode in 1859 — 
 ' An Italian Italy.' The whole thing is unsuited to 
 the condition of Austria. Why talk of a band of 
 German brothers to us? Bohemians, Hungarians, 
 Germans, Croats, — where is there any national 
 bond? We know but one motive for union, the 
 loyal love of our own dynasty. The thing which 
 should inspire us when we go into the field is not 
 the circumstance that we are allies as Germans 
 and for Germans, but that we are doing good and 
 faithful service for our beloved ruler. Long live 
 the Emperor! " 
 
 All rose and pledged the toast. A spark of en- 
 thusiasm filled my heart for a moment. When 
 
88 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 thousands are inspired by one and the same motive 
 for one and the same person, there is pleasure in 
 self-sacrifice. That is the spirit which swells the 
 heart, whether we call it loyalty or patriotism or 
 esprit de corps. It is but another name for love, 
 and it works so masterfully that in its name the 
 most atrocious work of deadly hate, war, is made 
 to seem love's duty. 
 
 But only for a moment did it warm my heart, for 
 a stronger love than that of country is the love for 
 husband. My husband's life was to me of far 
 greater value, and when this was at stake I could 
 only curse all parties — whether of Schleswig, Hol- 
 stein or Japan. 
 
 The days succeeding I passed in continual 
 anxiety. On the sixteenth of January the allies 
 demanded that Denmark revoke a certain decree 
 against which the Holstein chambers and nobility 
 had protested, invoking at the same time the pro- 
 tection of the German Alliance. Twenty-four hours' 
 grace was allowed. Denmark naturally refused. 
 This refusal was expected, for the Austrian and 
 Prussian troops had been massed on the border, 
 and on the first of February they crossed the Eider. 
 So then the die was cast, the struggle had begun. 
 My father at once addressed a letter of congratu- 
 lation to us: 
 
 " Rejoice, my children," he wrote, " we have now 
 the opportunity to make good the defeat of '59 by 
 dealing a few sharp blows at Denmark. When we 
 return from the north as victors we can again turn 
 our attention to the south; the Prussians will 
 remain our allies and it will not be possible for the 
 intriguer Louis Napoleon and the treacherous Ital- 
 ians to defeat us." 
 
 Frederick's regiment, to the great chagrin of the 
 Colonel, was not ordered to the north. This soon 
 brought a letter of commiseration from my father: 
 
 " I regret sincerely that Frederick has the ill 
 luck to serve with a regiment which is not called 
 upon to take part in this glorious campaign. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 89 
 
 Martha will naturally rejoice that she has her hus- 
 band at her side and is spared the anxiety, but 
 Frederick, I am sure, though from philanthropic 
 motives he is opposed to war, can but regret, when 
 it breaks out, that he is not on the scene, as his 
 military ardor must surely b* aroused." 
 
 " Is it hard for you to remain with me, Fred- 
 erick?" I asked, when we received this letter. 
 
 He pressed me to his heart. The silent answer 
 was enough. 
 
 But there was always the risk that additional 
 troops would be ordered to the seat of war. With 
 the greatest interest I read every report and zeal- 
 ously hoped the struggle would soon end. The 
 wish was not a patriotic one. I would have pre- 
 ferred that our army should be victors; but what I 
 vainly hoped for was the close of the war before 
 the man I loved should be sent into the field, and 
 the very last thing I cared for was what might be- 
 come of the little scrap of country concerned. 
 Anxious to learn what could be the "reasons of 
 state " to justify the interference of the allies, I 
 studied the history of Schleswig-Holstein. 
 
 I found that the disputed district had been ceded 
 to Denmark in 1027. Then the Danes were right; 
 they were the legitimate kings of the country. 
 
 Two hundred years later, however, the province 
 was turned over to a younger line of the royal 
 house and was only regarded as a Danish fief. In 
 1326 Schleswig was given over to Count Gerhard 
 of Holstein, and the Waldmarsch constitution, 
 which was then formulated, stipulated that never 
 again should Denmark claim any rights of owner- 
 ship. Why, if this was the case, then it was cer- 
 tainly right that we should be on the side of the 
 allies; we fought for the Waldmarsch constitution. 
 What was the use of constitutional law if the rights 
 so assured were not upheld? 
 
 In the year 1448 the Waldmarsch constitution 
 was ratified by King Christian I. Beyond a doubt 
 Denmark would never again claim sovereignty. 
 
90 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 How then did the Protocol Prince set up his- 
 claim? 
 
 Twelve years later the ruler of Schleswig died 
 without heirs, and the National Assembly met at 
 Ripon (it is always satisfactory to know just when 
 and where the national chambers convene — it was, 
 namely, in 1460, at Ripon), and there proclaimed 
 the Danish king Duke of Schleswig, whereupon 
 he pledged himself that the countries should re- 
 main forever undivided. This confused me again 
 a little bit. The only thing certain is that they shall 
 remain forever united. 
 
 With further historical studies the confusion 
 increases, for now begins, notwithstanding the 
 " forever undivided " clause (this word "forever" 
 plays an enviable rdle in all political complications),, 
 an eternal division and subdivision of the country 
 between the sons of kings, followed by a re-union 
 under the succeeding kings, and the founding of 
 new lines — Holstein-Gottorp and Schleswig-Son- 
 derburg. These, again, cause further slicing under 
 new lines, Sonderburg - Augustenburg, Beck- 
 Gliicksburg, Sonderburg-Gliicksburg, Holstein- 
 Gliickstadt; in short, I cannot find my way out. 
 
 But look a little farther. Perhaps we can estab- 
 lish the historical right for which our countrymen 
 must shed their blood. 
 
 Christian IV. took part in the Thirty Years' War, 
 and the Imperialists and Swedes fell upon the 
 duchy. Then a treaty was made (at Copenhagen, 
 1658,) by which the line Holstein-Gottorp was 
 secured in the possession of the Schleswig province, 
 and at last the Danish sovereignty was surrendered. 
 
 Surrendered forever. Thank God. I begin to 
 feel that I am on safe ground. 
 
 But what happened through an agreement of the 
 twenty-second of August, 1721? Simply this: The 
 Gottorp portion of Schleswig became a dependency 
 of the Danish monarchy. On the first of June, 
 1773, Holstein also was abandoned to Denmark — 
 the whole becoming simply a Danish province. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 91 
 
 That alters the case; now I am sure the Danes 
 are in the right. 
 
 But yet not quite, for the Vienna Congress of 
 1815 declared Holstein a part of the German Alli- 
 ance. This, however, enraged the Danes. They 
 raised the battle-cry, "Denmark to the Eider," and 
 strove to secure the complete possession of what 
 they called South Jutland, otherwise Schleswig. 
 As a solution of the difficulty, the hereditary right of 
 the Augustenburg line was utilized to enforce the 
 German National Claim. In the year 1846 King 
 Christian wrote an open letter, wherein he declares 
 his aim to be the maintenance of the integrity of 
 the whole land, against which the " German prov- 
 inces" protested. Two years later an announce- 
 ment from the throne declared this complete union 
 as fait accompli, whereupon a rebellion broke out in 
 the two " German provinces." The Danes won one 
 battle, the Schleswig-Holsteiners the other. The 
 German Alliance interfered. Prussia took some 
 important strategic points, but this did not end the 
 struggle. At last Prussia and Denmark concluded 
 a peace; Schleswig-Holstein fought the Danes 
 single-handed and was defeated at Idstedt. 
 
 The German Alliance now peremptorily de- 
 manded that the insurgents suspend operations; 
 Austrian troops invested Holstein and the two 
 duchies were divided. What has become of the 
 " eternal union " promised by treaty and constitu- 
 tion? 
 
 Affairs do not yet seem to be finally settled. I 
 discovered a London protocol of May 8, 1852 
 (how lucky! we are at least sure of the dates of all 
 these brittle treaties), which secured to • Prince 
 Christian of Glucksburg the succession to Schles- 
 wig. Now at last I know where this descriptive 
 title, " Protocol Prince," originated. 
 
 In the year 1854, after each duchy had adopted a 
 constitution, both were again appended to Denmark. 
 In 1858 Denmark was compelled to abrogate its 
 claim. This historical complication approaches the 
 
93 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 present time, but I am not at all dear where the 
 two provinces rightfully belong, and what is act- 
 ually the cause of the outbreak of the present war. 
 
 On the eighteenth of November, 1858, the Ger- 
 man Parliament approved the famous decree for 
 the settlement of the common affairs of Denmark 
 and Schleswig. Two days thereafter the king died. 
 With him another line, that of Holstein-Gliickstadt, 
 became extinct, and as his successor prepared to 
 claim the protection of the Alliance under the new 
 decree, Frederick of Augustenburg appeared upon 
 the scene. (I had almost forgotten this line.) 
 
 The Alliance at once allowed the Saxons and 
 Hanoverians to invest Holstein, and proclaimed 
 Augustenburg the Duke. Why? The Prussians 
 and Austrians were not agreed as to the reason. 
 
 To this day I have not been able to comprehend 
 it. It is asserted that the London protocol must 
 be respected. Why? Are protocols in regard to 
 things which absolutely do not concern us so emi- 
 nently respectable that we must defend them at the 
 expense of the blood of our own sons? Behind 
 this probably is secreted another one of those 
 "reasons of state." We must maintain as dogma 
 that what the gentlemen around the green diplo- 
 matic table decide is the highest wisdom, that their 
 aim is the greatest possible assurance of the increase 
 of national supremacy. The London protocol of 
 the eighth of May, 1853, must be upheld, but the 
 constitutional decree of Copenhagen, of the thir- 
 teenth of January, 1863, must be revoked, and that 
 within twenty-four hours. Upon that depended 
 Austria's honor and welfare. The dogma is a little 
 hard to believe; but in political matters even more 
 than in religious questions, the mass allows itself 
 to be guided by the principle of quia absurdum; to 
 comprehend and reason is from the outset forbid- 
 den. When the sword is once drawn nothing more 
 is allowable than a " hurrah," and a general strug- 
 gle for victory, and the blessing of Heaven is at 
 once invoked upon the strife. For so much is 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 93 
 
 certain: it must be of great consequence to the 
 Almighty that the London protocol should be main- 
 tained and the decree of the thirteenth of January- 
 be revoked; he must so guide matters that just so 
 many human beings shall shed their blood and so 
 many villages be destroyed, in order to establish 
 the sovereignty either of the line of Gliickstadt or 
 that of Augustenburg over a particular small sec- 
 tion of this earthly territory. O, foolish, inhuman, 
 unreasoning world, still in the leading strings of 
 infancy! That was the conclusion of my historical 
 studies. 
 
 The most encouraging reports came from the 
 seat of war. The allies won battle after battle. 
 After the first engagement the Danes evacuated 
 the entire field; Schleswig and Jutland as far as 
 Limfjord were invested by our troops, and the 
 enemy was massed behind the fortifications of 
 Diippel and Alsen. Again we followed by means 
 of maps and flag-decorated pins the plan of cam- 
 paign. 
 
 " If we only take the fortifications of Diippel or 
 capture Alsen," said the Olmiitz citizens (for no 
 one talks with so much relish of military achieve- 
 ments as those who take no part in them), " then it 
 is over." Our brave Austrians show what they are 
 made of, and the Prussians do very well; the two 
 together are simply invincible. The result will be 
 that the whole of Denmark will be conquered and 
 added to the German Confederation. " What a 
 glorious result of war! " 
 
 There was nothing I more earnestly desired than 
 the storming of Diippel; the sooner the better, in 
 order that this butchery might end. If we could 
 only hope that it would end before Frederick's 
 regiment was ordered into the field! O, this sword 
 of Damocles! Every day I awoke with the dread 
 that before nightfall the order to march might 
 arrive. 
 
 "Accustom yourself to the thought, my wife," 
 said Frederick. " Against the inevitable it is use- 
 
94 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 less to protest. I do not imagine that the war 
 will end with the capture of Diippel. We shall be 
 obliged to send strong re-enforcements, and it is not 
 likely that my regiment will be spared." 
 
 The campaign lasted two months without result. 
 It is a pity such matters cannot be decided by one 
 battle as in the duel. But no. So soon as one 
 battle is lost another one follows, when one position 
 is abandoned another is secured; and so it goes on 
 until one or both armies are destroyed or reach the 
 point of exhaustion. 
 
 On the fourteenth of April, Diippel was stormed 
 and taken. The news was received with acclama- 
 tion. Men embraced each other on the street. " Oh, 
 our noble army, gallant fellows; a wonderful piece 
 of strategy and courage! We thank God." In all 
 the churches the Te Deum was sung; the musi- 
 cians played new " Diippel Marches " and " Storm- 
 ing of Diippel Galops." The comrades of my hus- 
 band and their wives had a bitter drop, however, in 
 their cup of joy — their unlucky absence from the 
 field. 
 
 Immediately after this victory a peace conference 
 assembled in London, and I rejoiced over the pros- 
 pect of a termination of the war. How freely one 
 breathes when this word " peace " is uttered. How 
 the nations will be relieved when the command, 
 "Ground Arms!" is heard around the world. I 
 wrote down " Ground Arms " for the first time in 
 my diary. Next to it — Utopia. 
 
 The conference dragged itself along for two 
 months and ended without any agreement as to 
 terms of peace. Two days later came the order to 
 march. We had twenty-four hours for preparation 
 and farewell. I hourly expected the birth of my 
 child. At the time when a wife most needs the 
 consolation of her husband's presence I was to be 
 deprived of it, and with the terrible possibility 
 awaiting him of death or equal disaster. We were 
 too clear-sighted to console each other with any of 
 the hollow phrases and hypocrisy by which war 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" . 95 
 
 is made to seem a thing of righteous duty. The 
 appalling magnitude of the approaching evil I 
 would not cloak by any of the conventional patri- 
 otic or heroic masks. The prospect of being able 
 to shoot and cut down the Danes was no compen- 
 sation to him for the dread parting from his wife, 
 for death and destruction are repulsive to any 
 noble mind; and in case this parting should prove 
 an eternal one, what reason of state could recon- 
 cile me to such a sacrifice. The defender of his 
 country: that is the sonorous title which decorates 
 the soldier. In truth what nobler duty can there 
 be than to defend the common cause. But why 
 should the soldier add to his oath of allegiance 
 a hundred other military duties besides that of 
 defense of country. Why must he go beyond this 
 duty: to attack another country, when not the 
 slightest danger threatens his own. Shall he, 
 because of the love of strife or the ambitious 
 motives of foreign princes, pledge his highest 
 good, — life and health, — as he is only justified in 
 doing when such danger actually threatens life 
 and home? Why, for instance, must this Austrian 
 army march out to set the Augustenburg upon his 
 petty throne? Why, why? That is the question 
 which to propose to emperor or pope is treason- 
 able and blasphemous, and which by them would 
 be considered on the one side impiety, on the other 
 dangerous disloyalty, which both would scorn to 
 answer. 
 
 The regiment was to march at ten o'clock. Not 
 one moment of those few last hours did we give to 
 sleep. There was always the possibility of safe 
 return and we vainly strove to grasp this feeble 
 hope. As day dawned exhausted nature revenged 
 itself, and with groans and tears I realized that 
 my hour of trial had come. Physical anguish scarce 
 heightened the sorrow of parting, and Frederick 
 tore himself away uncertain whether the next hour 
 might not leave him bereft of wife and child. 
 
 The Olmiitz papers of the next day contained the 
 following account: 
 
96 "GROUND ARMSl" 
 
 " Yesterday, with flying colors and beating drums the 
 — th Regiment marched out to win fresh laurels at the 
 seat of war, in defense of the outraged rights of German 
 brotlierhood. joyous enthusiasm inspired each heart, 
 patriotic spirit illumined each eye," etc., etc. 
 
 I lost my child and for weeks I lay unconscious. 
 One day I suddenly awoke after frightful dreams 
 of battle scenes, where I seemed to be continually 
 pleading in the name of justice, of mercy and 
 humanity: "Ground Arms! " 
 
 My father and Aunt Marie stood at my bedside. 
 
 "Is he alive," I cried; "have letters come, or 
 despatches? " 
 
 Yes, there were both, and after some days I was 
 allowed to read them. There was one marked — 
 " Not to be delivered until all danger is past." 
 From this I take some extracts: 
 
 " To-day we met the enemy for the first time. Up to 
 the present we had marched through conquered territory, 
 the Danes having rapidly retreated. All around us were the 
 ruins of smoking villages, scattered harvests, abandoned 
 arms and knapsacks; the earth was torn up by shot and 
 shell, and covered with dead horses and masses of graves. 
 Such were the landscapes and accessories, through 
 which we followed the footsteps of the victors, in order 
 to make sure of other triumphs — that is, to burn new vil- 
 lages, etc.; this we have done to-day. We have cap- 
 tured the position of the enemy. Behind us a village is 
 in flames. The inhabitants, fortunately, had already fled. 
 But a horse had been forgotten in his stall. I heard his 
 despairing stamping and whinnying. Do you know what 
 I did ? It would not have gained me a decoration — for 
 instead of cutting down a few Danes I ran to free the poor 
 animal. It was too late; the crib was already in flames, 
 the straw under his hoofs, and his mane were in flames. 
 I shot him through the head and he dropped dead, saved 
 from horrible torture. Back I rushed into the field, into 
 the smoke of powder, and the wild alarm of continual 
 volleys of musketry, flying cannon balls, raging battle- 
 cries. All around me, friend and foe, were absorbed in 
 the tumult of contest. I could take no part in this 
 feeling. I could think of nothing save the possibility 
 that I had already lost you. The engagement lasted two 
 hours and the enemy abandoned the field. We did not 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 97 
 
 pursue them. There was enough to do. A few hundred 
 steps from the village, untouched by the fiames, stood a 
 farmhouse with capacious granaries and stables. We 
 collected our wounded and cared for them as well as 
 possible. The dead were buried in the morning — and 
 with them probably many yet alive, for it frequently hap- 
 pens with the severely wounded that a species of tetanus 
 causes the bodies to assume the rigidity of death. Many, 
 whether dead, wounded, or unharmed bodily, we shall 
 leave behind us; those, too, who were overwhelmed by 
 the falling walls of the burning buildings. The dead will 
 slowly moulder, the wounded slowly bleed to death, and 
 the uninjured slowly starve. And we — hurrah! We will 
 push on In our merry, dashing war." 
 
 " The next engagement will probably be a pitched battle. 
 From all information obtained, two great army corps will 
 stand opposed to each other. Then the loss in killed and 
 wounded will run up into the thousands; when the artil- 
 lery has begun its deadly work, the front ranks are quickly 
 mowed down. That is a magnificent arrangement. The 
 pity is that some weapon is not yet invented, which each 
 side can fire once, and which will by that discharge utterly 
 destroy both armies. Possibly that would abolish war. 
 Brute force could then never be relied upon to settle 
 differences. 
 
 " Why do I write all this to you.' Why do I not break 
 out, as every soldier ought, in enthusiastic hymns of 
 praise of the glorious results of war.' Why.' Because I 
 will speak nothing but the truth, the absolute, unvarnished 
 truth; because I hate the customary lying phrases; and 
 because, in this hour when I may be so close to death, I 
 am doubly impelled to tell you what lies next my heart. 
 Whether thousands think otherwise, or feel impelled by 
 duty to speak otherwise, I must once more say, before I 
 fall a sacrifice, that I hate war. If every man who feels 
 the same would say so, what a warning cry would go up 
 to heaven. All the present hurrah accompanying the 
 thunder of cannon would be overpowered by a new battle- 
 cry of suffering, outraged humanity: 'War upon war.' 
 
 4:30 A. M. 
 
 " The foregoing I wrote last night. I then lay down 
 upon a pile of straw and snatched a few hours sleep. In 
 half an hour the reveille will sound and I can throw this 
 letter into the field mail. All are already awake and pre-' 
 paring for the march. Poor fellows! they have had little 
 rest, after yesterday's bloody work, to prepare them for 
 
98 "GROUND ARMSt" 
 
 a. still bloodier struggle to-day. I have just made the 
 rounds of a temporary hospital which we must leave 
 behind us. Among the dying and wounded were several 
 whom it would have been charity to shoot as I did the 
 poor horse. There was one whose whole lower jaw was 
 shot away; another — but enough, I cannot help them. 
 Death is the sole release and death comes so slowly. To 
 those who beg piteously death turns a deaf ear. He is 
 otherwise engaged tearing away the busy and the happy 
 who vainly plead for yet a little time. My horse is saddled. 
 Farewell Martha — if you still live." 
 
 Fortunately I found in the packet one or two 
 letters of later date, written after the battle antici- 
 pated by Frederick. 
 
 "The day is ours. I am safe and well. Those are two 
 favorable reports — the first for your father, the second 
 for you. I dare not forget that for countless others the 
 same day brought overwhelming sorrow and misery." 
 
 In another, Frederick reported meeting his cousin 
 Gottfried. 
 
 " Imagine my surprise when I saw Aunt Cornelia's only 
 son at the head of a detachment riding past me. The 
 youngster is filled with martial ardor, but how his poor 
 mother must suffer. That evening we were in the same 
 camp, and I sent for him to come to my tent. ' Is it not 
 magnificent,' he cried, 'that we are fighting for the same 
 cause and are near together. How lucky I am that war 
 should break out the first year of my service. I may win 
 a cross of honor.' 'And my Aunt, how does she take it? ' 
 ' Oh, like all women — with tears which she strove to hide 
 from me, in order not to dampen my enthusiasm; with 
 blessings, sorrow, and pride.' 'And how was it with you, 
 yourself, youngster, the first time you went into battle?' 
 'Oh, enchanting, delightlul! ' ' You need not lie, my boy; 
 it is not the staff officer examining into your fitness for a 
 military office, but your friend, who is questioning you.' 
 * I can only repeat, it was inspiring. Horrible? Yes, but 
 grand! And with the consciousness that I was fulfilling 
 man's highest duty, with God on my side for king and 
 country! And then: that I met death so close — dared it 
 face to face, and it did not touch me — that filled me with 
 a lofty sense of the peculiar glory of war, as, in the old 
 epic stories, I saw the muse of history guiding our arms 
 to victory. A noble indignation filled me against the 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 99 
 
 insolent enemy who had dared to attack a German coun- 
 try, and it was an intense satisfaction to gratify this hate. 
 This desire to destroy, without being a murderer, this set- 
 ting one's own life in the balance is a singular sensation.' 
 
 " So the boy rattled on. I let him talk. I had experi- 
 enced it all in my first campaign. ' Epic ' — yes, that was 
 the right word. The stories of martial heroes and battle- 
 fields, by means of which we so carefully train our incip- 
 ient soldiers in the schools, are the proper preparation 
 for the thunder of artillery and the battle-cries of the 
 combatants, which mount with resonant force into our 
 heated brains. And the extraordinary surroundings, the 
 incomprehensible lawlessness in the midst of which we 
 find ourselves, seems like an outlook from a former 
 peaceful, law-abiding life down into a titanic struggle 
 within the gates of hell. I could with difficulty readjust 
 myself so as fully to comprehend Gottfried's state of 
 mind. I had so early realized that military zeal is not 
 superhuman but simply inhuman; no mystical revelation 
 from the kingdom of Lucifer, but a reminiscence of the 
 period of brutality — a resurrection of barbarism. 
 
 " Only he who becomes drunk with the passion of de- 
 struction, who — as I have occasionally seen among us, — 
 can split open with vindictive blow the defenseless head 
 of a disarmed enemy, who can sink to the Berserker — 
 deeper still, to the rank of bloodthirsty tiger — has for the 
 moment enjoyed the lust of war. I never can, my wife, 
 believe me, never. 
 
 " Gottfried is delighted that we Austrians fight for the 
 same just cause (what does he know? as if every cause 
 is not claimed by the army orders as just) as the Prus- 
 sians. ' We Germans are a band of brothers.' ' That was 
 proved by the Thirty Years', also by the Seven Years' war,' 
 I suggested in a low tone. Gottfried paid no attention. 
 ' Together, for each other we will conquer every enemy.' 
 ' How will it be, my boy, when to-day or to-morrow the 
 Prussians declare war against the Austrians, and we two 
 stand opposed to each other? ' ' Not to be thought of. 
 What? after having fought and bled together? Impos- 
 sible! ' ' Impossible? I warn you against that; nothing is 
 impossible in political matters. As evanescent as the 
 ephemeral fly in the kingdom of nature are the enmities 
 and friendships of nations." 
 
 " I write all this, not that I believe in your invalid con- 
 dition it may interest you, but because I have a haunting 
 conviction that I may not survive the campaign, and I am 
 not willing to take my convictions into the grave with 
 
100 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 me. The convictions of reflecting and humane soldiers 
 should not be falsified or buried in silence. ' I have 
 dared,' was Ulrich von Hutten's motto. ' I have said' — : 
 with this quieting of conscience, I will depart from life." 
 
 The latest of these letters was five days old. 
 What had happened in those five days? My anxi- 
 ety and dread became insupportable. My father 
 was obliged to return to his estate of Grumitz, and 
 I was out of all present danger. Aunt Marie re- 
 mained and endeavored to quiet me with her con- 
 ventional ideas of destiny, special providences, and 
 the like — small comfort for the dreadful lack of 
 news from the front. After his return home my 
 father telegraphed repeatedly the result of his in- 
 quiries. He could get no reply from Frederick's 
 colonel, yet on examination of the list of killed and 
 wounded his name was not discovered. 
 
 One afternoon, when I had begged to be left 
 alone, I lay on the sofa half dreaming of the day 
 he left me. Aroused by a slight movement I sprang 
 up in terror, with the feeling that anxiety had 
 overmastered reason, and that it was in imagination 
 only that I saw Frederick standing in the doorway. 
 
 The next moment I was clasped to his heart. 
 
 When we found time for other thought than the 
 joy of re-union, Frederick explained that he had 
 been left wounded in a farmhouse, and the regi- 
 mental surgeon could make no other report than 
 "missing," which, fortunately, had not reached us. 
 As soon as possible he hastened home, and the war 
 was virtually at an end when he recovered suffi- 
 ciently to be moved. 
 
 We spent the summer in Grumitz, and after 
 much serious consultation I persuaded Frederick 
 to resign his commission. Our interests had now, 
 through our love, become so united, that there was 
 no longer any feeling of hesitancy on account of 
 my being the financial partner. He was only anx- 
 ious to spare us both the horrors of another war. 
 
 My son Rudolph, now a seven-years-old little 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 101 
 
 man, began to learn to read and write. I was his 
 teacher. I should not have been willing to turn 
 over to any hired servant the delight (which to 
 her would have been no pleasure) of watching the 
 dawning of intelligence and the slow unfolding of 
 this precious soul. He accompanied us in our daily 
 walks, and, as is usual with children, he tested our 
 intelligence by the waking curiosity of his own. 
 We did not hesitate to say to him, upon questions 
 that no human being can justly answer, " We do 
 not know." In the beginning, when we made this 
 reply, Rudolph was not satisfied, but carried his 
 queries to his aunt Marie, his grandfather, or his 
 nurse, and was, of course, gratified by no doubtful 
 answers. Triumphantly he would return to us. 
 "You do not know how old the moon is? I do; 
 six thousand years — remember that." Frederick 
 and I exchanged glances. A whole volume of 
 pedagogic lament and comment lay in this glance 
 and silence. 
 
 I particularly objected to the " playing soldier,'' 
 with which my father and brother Otto continually 
 sought to entertain him. The idea of an enemy 
 and the duty of cutting him down was developed 
 without my knowing how. One day Frederick and 
 I surprised him beating two crying puppies with a 
 riding-whip. 
 
 "You are a treacherous Italian," he cried, giving 
 one of the poor little creatures a blow; " and you," 
 hitting the other, " an insolent Dane." 
 
 Frederick snatched the whip from his hand. 
 
 "And you are a heartless Austrian," he said, lay- 
 ing two or three lashes on Rudolph's shoulders. 
 The Italians and Danes ran away joyfully, while 
 the Austrian began to blubber. 
 
 " I hope you are not angry, Martha, that I have 
 struck your boy? I am no friend in general to the 
 lash, but cruelty to animals I cannot endure " 
 
 " Quite right," I interrupted. 
 
 "People can only be cruel to people, then?' 
 whimpered the little fellow between his sobs. 
 
102 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 " Not at all." 
 
 " Why, you yourself went out to beat the Italians 
 and Danes." 
 
 "They were enemies." 
 
 " Then we can beat our enemies? " 
 
 " And to-morrow, or the day after," said Fred- 
 erick, turning away, " the priest will tell him that 
 he must love his enemies. Oh, logic! " 
 
 He turned again to Rudolph. 
 
 " No, we must not beat our enemies because we 
 hate them, but because they are going to beat us." 
 
 "What are they going to beat us about?" 
 exclaimed Rudolph, intensely interested. 
 
 " Because we — no, no! " and Frederick gave it 
 up, " we will never make our way out of this circle. 
 Go and play, Rudi — we forgive you, but you must 
 not do it again." 
 
 Cousin Conrad, whose regiment was stationed 
 in the neighborhood, made some slight progress in 
 Lilli's favor. He made no special assaults, but 
 was evidently bent upon a prolonged siege. 
 
 " There are various ways of capturing a fortifi- 
 cation," he explained to me one day, " by storm, 
 by famine; there are also several methods of bring- 
 ing the feminine heart to capitulation. The surest 
 of these is habit — the custom of seeing a fellow 
 about. It must touch her finally to see the persist- 
 ence of my love; how patiently I keep silence but 
 so unfailingly turn up again. When I stay away a 
 little while it will make quite a hole in her exist- 
 ence; when I remain long away she will not know 
 how to live without me." 
 
 " And how many times seven years do you intend 
 to serve? " 
 
 " I have not calculated — as many as necessary 
 until she accepts me." 
 
 " I am struck with admiration. Are there no 
 other girls in the world?" 
 
 " None for me. I have Lilli on the brain. There 
 is something in her walk, in the dimple in her chin, 
 in her way of speaking that no other can equal. 
 
"GROUND ARMSI" 103 
 
 You, Martha, are, for example, ten times prettier 
 and a hundred times cleverer " 
 
 " Thanks." 
 
 " But I would not have you for a wife." 
 
 " Thanks." 
 
 "Just because you are too clever. You would 
 certainly look down upon me. The cross on my 
 collar, my saber, my spurs have no effect upon you. 
 Lilli has a great respect for a fighting man. I 
 know she worships the army, while you " 
 
 "I have only married into the army twice," I 
 replied laughing. 
 
 We often had visitors from Vienna, diplomatists 
 and distinguished officers. I frequently took part 
 in their discussions over present political difficul- 
 ties, though always after protest on their part that 
 I would surely feel but little interest in them. 
 Through these I was enabled to follow to the end 
 the Danish question which I had so industriously 
 studied during the campaign. Certainly, after all 
 these battles and victories, it would be decided what 
 was to be done with the duchies. The Augusten- 
 burg — the famous Augustenburg, to maintain whose 
 well-established rights the whole strife had been 
 made — had he received his portion? Not at all. 
 An entirely new pretender appeared upon the scene. 
 It was not enough to have Gliicksburg and Got- 
 torp, and whatever all the other lines were called, 
 but in addition Russia must step in with a fresh 
 candidate. Against Augustenburg Russia pitted 
 Oldenburg. The final result of the war seemed to 
 be that none of the " burgs " were to have the 
 duchies, but that these were to be divided among 
 the victors. 
 
 The following were the articles upon which it 
 was proposed to conclude peace: 
 
 (I.) Denmark must surrender the duchies to Austria 
 and Prussia. 
 
 I was satisfied with this. The allies would natur- 
 ally hasten to restore these conquered provinces to 
 their rightful owners. * 
 
104 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 (2.) The border must be carefully defined. 
 
 That was also very fine; if only these metes and 
 bounds could be given the grace of durability; 
 but it is aggravating to watch the everlasting vicis- 
 situdes of the blue and green lines on the geograph- 
 ical maps. 
 
 (3.) The state debt must be divided according to the 
 population. 
 
 This I did not understand at all. 
 
 (4.) The expenses of the war must be borne by the 
 duchies. 
 
 I did not exactly comprehend this, either. The 
 land had become a desert, its harvests were de- 
 stroyed, its sons were in their graves; some com- 
 pensation must be offered them. Now, then, it 
 must pay the costs. 
 
 " What is the news in regard to Schleswig-Hol- 
 stein? " I asked one day to open the conversation. 
 
 " The latest is that von Beust has addressed a 
 categorical demand to the Parliament for informa- 
 tion as to how it can be possible for the allies to 
 accept the surrender of these provinces from a 
 king whose provincial sovereignty had not been 
 recognized by them." 
 
 "Quite an intelligent suggestion," I remarked; 
 " for it is said that the Protocol-Prince is not the 
 legitimate heir to the German provinces, and now 
 you allow Christian IX. " 
 
 " You do not understand anything about it, 
 child," said my father impatiently. " It is a piece 
 of impudence and chicanery in this Beust, and 
 nothing else. The duchies belong to us because 
 we have conquered them." 
 
 " But not for ourselves; it was claimed for 
 Augustenburg." 
 
 "You do not understand. The causes which be- 
 fore the outbreak of war are given by diplomatists 
 as justifiable for action frequently retire into the 
 background so soon as the struggle is oyer. Vic- 
 tories and defeats produce entirely new compli- 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 105 
 
 cations, and nations are forced to fresh considera- 
 tions by undreamed of circumstances." 
 
 " So that after all the reasons are no reasons at 
 all — only pretenses? " I inquired. 
 
 "Pretenses? No." One of the generals came to 
 my father's relief with "apparent motives — sug- 
 gestions of probable events which are justified by 
 the measure of their success." 
 
 " If I were allowed to suggest," said my father, " I 
 would not have permitted an intimation of peace 
 after Diippel and Alsen had been captured, until 
 the whole of Denmark had been conquered." 
 
 "What would you do with it?" 
 
 " Make it a part of the German Confederation! " 
 
 " Why should you, Papa, who are such a patriotic 
 Austrian, care for the German Confederation? " 
 
 " Have you forgotten that the Hapsburgs were 
 German emperors, and may be so again? " 
 
 "How would it be," suggested Frederick, "if 
 some other great German cherished the same 
 dreams?" 
 
 My father laughed derisively. 
 
 "The crown of the holy Roman-German Empire 
 on the head of a Protestant prince! Have you lost 
 your senses?" 
 
 " It is not certain that the two powers will not 
 differ as to the settlement of this latest question," re- 
 marked Doctor Bresser. "To conquer the provinces 
 of the Elbe is of not much consequence — but what 
 to do with them may prove the source of discord. 
 Every war, whatever the result may be, contains 
 within itself the seed of future wars. Naturally 
 one act of violence leads to another, and they pro- 
 ceed in an indefinite procession." 
 
 Some days later a fresh piece of news was 
 reported. 
 
 King William of Prussia visited our Emperor 
 at Schonbrunn. The meeting and embraces were 
 most affectionate, while the Prussian eagle floated 
 in the breeze, military bands played only Prus- 
 sian national hymns, and there was great popular 
 
106 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 enthusiasm. I rejoiced over this account, as it 
 seemed to contradict Doctor Bresser's fateful proph- 
 ecies. My father rejoiced because of the advantage 
 to be gained in using the allied forces, in case Aus- 
 tria wished to re-conquer Lombardy. 
 
 " Napoleon III. will never tolerate that,'' said one 
 of the generals. " It is a very bad sign, indeed, that 
 Benedetti, Austria's worst enemy, is now Minister 
 to Berlin." 
 
 "Will you tell me, gentlemen," I cried, folding 
 my hands, "why do not the general powers organize 
 a confederation? " 
 
 The gentlemen shrugged their shoulders. I had 
 evidently made one of those stupid suggestions 
 with which the fair sex are in the habit of enrich- 
 ing political discussions. 
 
 Autumn arrived. On the thirtieth of October 
 articles of peace were signed at Vienna, and the 
 desire of my heart, my husband's resignation, could 
 now be sent in. But man proposes and circum- 
 stances dispose of our plans. The house of Schmitt 
 & Sons went into bankruptcy, and the whole of my 
 private fortune was swept away. This was also 
 one of the results of war. Fortunately my father 
 was able to do something for me, but of quitting 
 the service there was now no prospect. We needed 
 Frederick's pay; it was our only means of independ- 
 ent livelihood. We were quartered in Vienna for 
 the winter, living in simple style, abandoning all 
 social pleasures of the gay world. It was enough 
 for my happiness that there was no present pros- 
 pect of another war. Aunt Marie and my sisters 
 spent the season in Prague. As Conrad's regiment 
 was stationed in the Bohemian capital I somewhat 
 suspiciously questioned Lilli as to this singular 
 coincidence, to which she shrugged her shoulders 
 and replied: "You know I cannot bear him." 
 
 To a small circle of relatives and friends our 
 house was always open. The old companion of my 
 youth, Lori Griesbach, visited us often, in truth 
 
"GROUND ARMSI" 107 
 
 oftener than was agreeable. Her conversation, 
 even in earlier times generally uninteresting to me, 
 I now found tiresomely superficial, and the hor- 
 izon of her interests, which had always been a nar- 
 row one, seemed to have lessened astonishingly. 
 She was handsome and gay and a coquette. I un- 
 derstood that in society she turned the heads of 
 many, and it was rumored that she had no objec- 
 tion to love-making. It was not very agreeable to 
 me to discover that she admired Frederick exceed- 
 ingly, and I intercepted many a languishing glance 
 which indicated her intention to occupy a niche 
 in his heart. Lori's husband, the ornament of the 
 Jockey Club, the race-course, and the theatrical 
 coulisses was notoriously so unfaithful to her that 
 she might be pardoned for some small attempt to 
 avenge herself; but I preferred she should not 
 choose Frederick as a means to that end. I had 
 something to say about that. 
 
 Jealous — I? I grew red at the consciousness of 
 this feeling. I was so certain of his heart. He 
 could love no one — no one in the world as much as 
 he loved me. Well, yes, love — but an innocent sort 
 of flirtation, a little temporary state of amorous- 
 ness. I was a little doubtful on that point. 
 
 Lori did not attempt to conceal from me how 
 much she admired Frederick. 
 
 " Do you hear, Martha? you are really to be en- 
 vied such a charming husband;" or, "Keep close 
 guard over your Frederick, for he is surely firing 
 the hearts of all the women." 
 
 " I am certain of his fidelity." 
 
 " Do not be so ridiculous — as if fidelity and mar- 
 ried men were to be mentioned in the same breath. 
 Faithful men do not exist. You know, for instance, 
 how my husband " 
 
 " But Lori, perhaps it is not true. Then, all men 
 are not alike ." 
 
 "All of them, all of them; I can assure you of 
 that. I do not know one man who will not flirt. 
 Among those who are devoted to me are several 
 
108 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 married men. What would you have? We are not 
 giving each other lessons in faithfulness." 
 
 " They know probably that you will not listen to 
 them. Does Frederick belong to this phalanx? " I 
 asked, laughing. 
 
 " I am not going to tell you, you little goose. It 
 is very good of me to direct your attention to the 
 fact of how much I admire him. I merely warn 
 you to keep an eye open." 
 
 " I have kept my eyes wide open, Lori, and they 
 have already informed me to my dissatisfaction 
 that you have opened your batteries upon him." 
 
 " There it is! I shall have to be more prudent in 
 future." 
 
 We both laughed; but still I felt that behind all 
 this joking allusion to my jealousy there was the 
 spark to rouse that passion, and that also back of 
 her teasing there might be a kernel of truth. 
 
 Lori's husband had not been in the Schleswig- 
 Holstein campaign, and the fact was an annoyance 
 to him. Lori was also provoked at the unlucky 
 circumstance. 
 
 "It was such a glorious war!" she complained. 
 "Griesbach would have been promoted. The only 
 comfort is that in the next campaign " 
 
 " What are you talking about? " I interrupted. 
 "There is not the slightest prospect of one. Or 
 have you heard anything? Why should war break 
 out now?" 
 
 " Why? I never trouble myself about that. Wars 
 come and there they are. Every four or five years 
 one breaks out — that is the course of history." 
 
 " But there must always be a cause." 
 
 " Perhaps — but who knows? Not I, nor my hus- 
 band. 'What are they fighting about anyway 
 over there,' I asked him during the last war. ' I do 
 not know, and I do not care,' he answered, shrug- 
 ging his shoulders. ' It is only provoking that I 
 am not with them, ' he added. Oh, Griesbach is a 
 true soldier. The why and the wherefore of a war 
 are no business of the soldier. The diplomatists 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 109 
 
 settle all that. I never bother my brain about polit- 
 ical matters. They do not concern us women — 
 we should not understand them. When the storm 
 
 breaks loose then we fall to praying " 
 
 " That the storm may burst above our neighbor, 
 not upon us, naturally," I replied. 
 
 Dear Madam : 
 
 A friend — perhaps also an enemy, but at the 
 same time one who knows what he is talking about — in- 
 forms you by this letter that you are deceived — in the 
 most treacherous manner deceived. Your apparently 
 pious husband and your innocent looking friend do not 
 deserve your confidence. You poor, blind woman ! I 
 have my reasons for tearing off their masks. I do not 
 inform you of this out of kindness to you, for I am sure 
 the knowledge of the deception of these two loved friends 
 will give you much pain; but I owe you no special regard. 
 Perhaps I am a repulsed admirer seeking to revenge him- 
 self. Of what consequence is it what the motive may be.' 
 The fact is there, and you can make the most of it. 
 Without evidence you will not believe an angnymous 
 letter. The enclosed note was lost by the Countess G . 
 
 This astonishing document lay on our breakfast 
 table one fine spring morning. Frederick sat oppo- 
 site me, busy with his meal, while I read and re- 
 read this letter. The treacherous note enclosed was 
 in another envelope and I hesitated to open it. 
 
 I looked up at Frederick. He was buried in the 
 morning paper but must have become conscious of 
 my earnest glance, for he dropped it and with his 
 usual smiling face turned his head toward me. 
 
 "Well, what is the matter, Martha? What are 
 you staring at me for?" 
 
 " I want to know whether you still love me." 
 
 " Oh, of course not," he answered, laughing. " To 
 tell the truth, I never could endure you." 
 
 " I do not believe that." 
 
 "But what is it, is anything the matter? You 
 look faint." 
 
 I hesitated. Should I show him the letter? 
 Should I first examine the evidence I held in my 
 hand? My head whirled. My Frederick, my all, 
 
110 "GROUND ARMSr 
 
 my friend and husband, my confidant and lover — 
 could he be lost to me. Unfaithful — he! Perhaps 
 it was only a momentary passion, nothing more. 
 Was there not enough forbearance in my heart to 
 forget and forgive that, as if nothing had happened? 
 But the treachery! How would it be if his heart 
 had turned from me and he really loved the beauti- 
 ful Lori? 
 
 "Speak! Why do you not speak? Show me the 
 letter which has frightened you?" 
 
 He leaned over and took the letter out of my 
 hand. 
 
 I retained the inclosed note. 
 
 His eye flew over the pages. With an oath he 
 tore the letter to pieces and sprang from his seat. 
 
 "It is infamous!" he cried. "Where is the so- 
 called evidence?" 
 
 " Here, I have not opened it. Frederick, say the 
 word and I will throw the thing into the fire. I do 
 not wish any evidence that you have deceived me." 
 
 " My darling! " he was at my side in an instant 
 and caught me in his arms, "my jewel! Look me 
 in the eye — do you doubt me? Evidence or no evi- 
 dence — does my word satisfy you? " 
 
 " Yes," I said, and threw the envelope in the 
 grate. 
 
 Frederick sprang to catch it. 
 
 " No, no, that would not do. I am curious. We 
 will look at it together. I do not remember that I 
 ever wrote anything to your friend which would 
 indicate the least interest in her." 
 
 " But she likes you, Frederick. You only need to 
 drop your handkerchief." 
 
 " Oh, are you sure of that? Come, let us read 
 this precious document. Right, it is my hand. 
 Ah! see here, it is the few lines which you dictated 
 yourself some weeks ago when your right hand was 
 lame." 
 
 My Lori, come, I expect you with pleasure at five 
 o'clock in the afternoon. Martha (still a cripple). 
 
 " The finder of the note evidently did not under- 
 
"GROUND ARMSl" 111 
 
 Stand it. It is certainly a good joke. Let us be 
 thankful that this precious evidence was not truth 
 — my innocence is established. Or are you still 
 suspicious?" 
 
 " Frederick, since you looked me in the eye I 
 have not had a doubt. Do you know, Frederick, I 
 was frightfully unhappy; but you must forgive it. 
 Lori is a coquette, very beautiful — tell me, has she 
 not made advances? You sha,ke your head. Of 
 course, you are right in that, it is really your duty 
 to lie to me. A man must never betray the neg- 
 lected or accepted favors of women." 
 
 " You would really pardon a temporary aberra- 
 tion. Are you not jealous? " 
 
 "Yes, painfully. When I think of you at the 
 feet of another — kissing another woman — cold to 
 me — passion dead — it is frightful. But I am not 
 afraid of losing your love. Your heart will never 
 grow cold to me, that I am sure of — our souls are 
 so sympathetic — but " 
 
 "But — I understand. You need not accuse me 
 of a feeling for you like that of a husband after his 
 silver wedding. We were married too young for 
 that. So far as the fire of youth runs in my veins 
 I burn for you, — though I am forty years old. You 
 are for me the one woman on this earth. The hap- 
 piness which lies in the knowledge of having kept 
 my faith; the proud confidence with which one can 
 say that in every respect this bond -of marriage has 
 been kept sacred — all this I consider so beautiful 
 that I would not lose it for a mere moment of reck- 
 less intoxication. You have made me such a 
 happy man, Martha, that I am as much raised 
 above every temptation of passion or pleasure as 
 the owner of an ingot of gold is above the desire 
 to win a penny." 
 
 How happy I was made by these words? I was 
 thankful to the anonymous letter writer who had 
 called them out. I wrote every word down in my 
 journal. Here is the date, January, 1865. Ah, how 
 far back that now seems! 
 
113 "GROUND ARMSI" 
 
 Frederick remained very much provoked. He 
 swore he would find out the author, and punish 
 him. 
 
 I discovered on the same day the origin and 
 object of this piece of literature. The result, that 
 Frederick and I were brought nearer to each other, 
 the originator had not anticipated. 
 
 That afternoon I went to see my friend Lori in 
 order to show her the letter. I wished to inform 
 her that she evidently had an enemy who had 
 directed suspicion upon her, and expected to laugh 
 with her over the failure of the intention of the 
 sender. 
 
 She laughed more than I had expected. 
 
 " So you were alarmed? " 
 
 "Yes, terribly. And yet I came very near burn- 
 ing the enclosed note without reading it." 
 
 " Then the whole joke would have been spoiled." 
 
 "What joke?" 
 
 " Why, you would in the end have believed that 
 I really had betrayed you. I will take this oppor- 
 tunity to confess that in a crazy moment — it was at 
 a dinner-party at your father's, when I sat next to 
 Tilling, and because I had been drinking too much 
 champagne — that I really, so to speak, offered my 
 heart to your Frederick on a presentation salver." 
 
 "And he?" 
 
 "He gave me to understand at once that he 
 loved you above everything, and would be faithful 
 to you until death. In order that you might more 
 fully appreciate such a phenomenon I got up the 
 whole thing." 
 
 " What joke are you continually talking about? " 
 
 " You know very well that the letter and con- 
 tents came from me." 
 
 " From you? " 
 
 " Yes, see here, turn the paper over, look at the 
 date: the first of April." 
 
 When spring came and the usual migrations 
 began, I refused to accompany my father to Gru- 
 
"GROUND ARMS I" 113 
 
 mitz, preferring to remain in the neighborhood of 
 Vienna, where I could see Fredericlc daily. My 
 sisters and Aunt Marie went to Marienbad. Just 
 before leaving Prague, Lilli wrote me: 
 
 "I will acknowledge that Cousin Conrad begins to be 
 not quite so disagreeable to me. I have been in the 
 humor during many a dance this winter to answer ' Yes," 
 if he would only repeat his question; but he never seized 
 the right opportunity. I have, in fact, become so accus- 
 tomed when he propounds his ' Will you be my wife? ' to 
 answer, ' I cannot think of it,' that I could scarce this 
 time add to it : ' Ask me again in six months.' If I can- 
 not forget him this summer then the obstinate, persistent 
 cousin will have conquered." 
 
 About the same time Aunt Marie wrote (as it 
 happens, it is the only letter from her which I have 
 saved) : 
 
 My Dear Child : 
 
 It has been a tiresome winter campaign. I shall 
 be thoroughly rejoiced when the time comes that Rosa 
 and Lilli shall each find their match. They have had 
 opportunities enough, for they have each rejected a quar- 
 ter of a dozen — without counting the perennial Conrad. 
 The torment begins again shortly in Marienbad. I would 
 gladly go to Grumitz, or would join you, but instead must 
 take up this tiresome and thankless task of chaperon to 
 two pleasure-loving girls. 
 
 I am rejoiced to hear that you are well. (I had suf- 
 fered a long attack of fever.) Now that it is over I can 
 tell you how alarmed your husband was. But your time 
 has not yet come, thank God! • The special propitia- 
 tory services which I ordered at the Ursulines aided un- 
 doubtedly in bringing about your restoration to health. 
 The dear God will preserve you for your little Rudolph. 
 Kiss him for me; tell him he must learn all he can. I 
 send him by this mall a few books: 'The Pious Child 
 and His Guardian Angel ' — a beautiful story — and ' The 
 Heroes of Our Country,' a collection of war stories for 
 boys. We cannot begin too soon to inspire the youth 
 with such glorious ideas. Your brother Otto was scarce 
 five years old when I told him the stories of Alexander, 
 of Caesar, and other great warriors, and see how enthusi- 
 astic a lover of all that is heroic he now is — it is a delight 
 to me. 
 
114 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 I have heard that you intend to remain in the neigh- 
 borhood of Vienna all summer. I suppose it is on ac- 
 count of your husband, but I should think you owe some 
 duty to your father. Believe me, it is not prudent for 
 married people to stick so closely together; they should 
 allow each other some little liberty. 
 
 Heaven protect you and little Rudi is the constant 
 prayer of your loving Aunt Marie. 
 
 P. S. — Your husband has relatives in Prussia (fortu- 
 nately he is not so arrogant as his countrymen). Ask 
 him what they are saying there about the present polit- 
 ical complication. It is rather critical. 
 
 This letter first brought the fact to my notice 
 that there again existed a "political complication." 
 
 "What does Aunt Marie mean by ' critical,' you 
 less than ordinarily arrogant Prussian?" I asked 
 my husband, handing him the letter. " Is there 
 really an unusual political situation?" 
 
 " There is — just as there always is — a storm in 
 prospect. The present situation is particularly un- 
 stable and treacherous." 
 
 " Does it relate to the Duchies of the Elbe again? 
 Has not that been settled?" 
 
 " Far from it. The Schleswfig-Holsteiners have 
 more than half a mind to throw over the arrogant 
 Prussians. ' Rather Danish than Prussian,' they 
 cry." 
 
 " And what has become of Augustenburg. Do 
 not tell me, Frederick, that they will not have 
 him. On account of this sole just heir, so longed 
 for by the oppressed Danish provinces, the whole 
 war was brought about. Give me at least the com- 
 fort of knowing that Augustenburg was installed 
 in his rights and that he reigns over the undivided 
 duchies. On this 'undivided ' I take my stand; it 
 is an old historical right which has been pledged 
 for several hundred years, whose whole history I 
 studied with such painstaking care." 
 
 " It has gone rather hardly with your histor- 
 ical claims, my poor Martha," laughed Frederick. 
 " Outside of his own protests and manifestoes we 
 hear no more of Augustenburg." 
 
"GROUND ARMSt" 115 
 
 Naturally I began at once to study the political 
 situation, and discovered that, notwithstanding the 
 Vienna treaty, nothing was really settled. The 
 Schleswig-Holstein question was a more formidable 
 one to solve than ever — it would not down. After 
 the enforced retirement of Gliicksburg, Augusten- 
 burg and Oldenburg hastened to lay their claims 
 before the German Alliance. The Province of 
 Lauenburg petitioned earnestly to be annexed to 
 Prussia. Each of the two great powers was ac- 
 cused of seeking to overreach the other. 
 
 " What do these arrogant Prussians want? " was 
 the continual suspicious cry from Austria, the 
 Middle States, and the duchies. Napoleon III. 
 advised Prussia to annex the duchies up to the 
 boundaries of the Danish-speaking provinces. But 
 for the present Prussia pretended not to be willing 
 to consider the suggestion. At last, on the twenty- 
 second of February, 1865, Prussia formally an- 
 nounced the claims decided upon: Prussian troops 
 were to occupy the provinces; all provincial troops 
 by land or water were to acknowledge the suprem- 
 acy of Prussia, the only exception being a contin- 
 gent representing the Alliance. The harbor of 
 Kiel was seized; the postal and telegraph systems 
 were to be under the control of Prussia, and the 
 duchies must join the Customs Union. These 
 demands angered our Minister of War, Mensdorf- 
 Ponilly — I did not see why; and at the same time 
 — I did not see any reason for it except jeal- 
 ousy — the Middle States took it to heart. These 
 last energetically demanded that Augustenburg 
 should be at once put in possession of the duchies. 
 Austria, however, had something to say, and said 
 it, treating Augustenburg's claims as of no conse- 
 quence. It would gladly agree to the Prussian pos- 
 session of the harbor of Kiel, but would not toler- 
 ate the right to recruit soldiers or sailors. 
 
 Prussia declared that the demands made were 
 not for absolute annexation, but solely to secure 
 the interests of the whole of Germany. Augusten- 
 
116 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 burg might, by recognizing the above claims, be 
 invested with his prescriptive right; but in case 
 this was not agreed upon — with an increasingly- 
 threatening manner — Prussia might be compelled 
 to insist upon still greater demands. 
 
 Bitter, defiant, vindictive voices were raised in 
 the Middle States and Austria against this "in- 
 solent " announcement, and the public sentiment 
 against Prussia and Bismarck was daily intensi- 
 fied. 
 
 On the twenty-seventh of June the Middle States 
 demanded information (information is not a dip- 
 lomatic custom — secrecy is the only proper thing), 
 but the two superior powers continued their pri- 
 vate negotiations. King William betook himself 
 to Gastein, the Emperor Francis Joseph to Ischl. 
 Count Blome flew unremittingly between them 
 and upon several points an agreement was reached. 
 The investment should be half Austrian and half 
 Prussian. Lauenburg should be annexed to Prus- 
 sia as it desired. As compensation therefor Austria 
 was to receive two and a half million dollars. I 
 could not feel any particular patriotic pleasure 
 at this. How would this insignificant sum benefit 
 the thirty-six millions of Austrians, even if it were 
 divided among them— which would not be done? 
 Would it make good the hundred thousand I had 
 lost through Schmitt & Sons by reason of the war, 
 or replace the loss of those for whom thousands 
 wept? I was rejoiced that on the fourteenth of 
 August a new treaty was signed at Gastein. 
 "Treaty " sounds so reassuring. Later I learned 
 that treaties are generally made to form the basis 
 for some future casus belli. One needs only to 
 assert that a treaty has been outraged and — with 
 all the appearance of justification — out springs the 
 sword from the scabbard. 
 
 For the time, however, the Gastein treaty quieted 
 me. General Gablenz — the handsome Gablenz, 
 for whom all womankind were fired with enthusi- 
 asm — was in command in Holstein, Manteuffel in 
 
•'GROUND ARMS!" 117 
 
 Schleswig. Of the promise of 1460, that the prov- 
 inces should remain forever united, there was of 
 course nothing more heard. And my Augusten- 
 burg, for whose rights I had so strenuously battled, 
 had the painful experience of receiving a gentle 
 warning from Manteuffel, when he ventured to set 
 foot within his duchy and was jubilantly received 
 by the populace. In strictly courteous, but no 
 uncertain language, he was advised that incarcer- 
 ation in a moist, unpleasant prison awaited him 
 should he venture there again without permission. 
 He who does not regard this as a sarcasm of the 
 muse Clio has no comprehension of the comic side 
 of history. 
 
 Notwithstanding the Gastein treaty, affairs did 
 not quiet down. By patient reading of all the 
 political articles in the daily press I had a fair 
 understanding of the shifting state of things. I 
 could not believe that war would result. Such 
 legal questions must go the way of all litigation; 
 from careful consideration of equitable rights a 
 just judgment must ensue. Certainly all these 
 judicious diplomatists and privy councilors, these 
 parliamentary leaders and politely fraternal mon- 
 archs could find some common ground to settle 
 general differences. More out of curiosity than 
 anxiety I followed the course of events, whose reg- 
 ular order I noted in my journal. 
 
 The first of October, 1865. In the Imperial Council at 
 Frankfort the following resolutions were adopted: 
 
 1. The autonomy of the Schleswig-Holstein people 
 must be preserved. The Treaty of Gastein was rejected 
 as an infringement of the rights of the nation. 
 
 2. All officials should refuse to pay over to these 
 allied powers taxes and loans ordered by the former 
 government. 
 
 October 15. A royal Prussian edict declared approba- 
 tion of the decision in regard to the hereditary claim of 
 Prince Augustenburg. The father of the latter, for him- 
 self and his successors, abrogated all claims to the throne 
 in consideration of the sum of one and a half million 
 dollars. 
 
118 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 By the Vienna treaty the duchies were ceded to the 
 allies; henceforth the Augustenburgs can make no fur- 
 ther claims. 
 
 There .was a continually increasing protest against 
 " Prussian arrogance," which became a species of 
 battle-cry. " We must protect ourselves against 
 them " was declared as authoritatively as dogma. 
 " King William aspires to the r6le of Victor Em- 
 anuel in Germany." " Austria has the secret inten- 
 tion of re-conquering Silesia." " Prussia is coquet- 
 ting with France." "Austria is courting France"; 
 et patati et patata, as the French say, a species of mu- 
 tual recrimination which is indulged in by cabinets 
 as it is by the gossips round the village tea-kettle. 
 
 With autumn the whole family returned to 
 Vienna. I would not go to Grumitz for the hunt- 
 ing season, as my husband could not secure a leave 
 of absence. I was also unwilling for any length of 
 time to place my little Rudolph under the influence 
 of his grandfather, who was determined to instill 
 into his childish mind all sorts of martial notions. 
 The desire for a military career had already been 
 awakened in my son. Perhaps it was in the blood. 
 The scion of a long line of spldiers must naturally 
 develop warlike tendencies. In the works on the 
 natural sciences, which I studied more enthusiasti- 
 cally than ever, I had learned the force of heredity, 
 the result of natural tendencies, which is nothing 
 more than the pressure of the mental and physical 
 habits acquired from a line of ancestry. 
 
 On his birthday his grandfather bought him a 
 saber. 
 
 " You know very well. Papa," I said angrily, 
 "that I will not allow Rudolph to become a soldier. 
 I most earnestly beg of you " 
 
 " Now, now, you would like to keep him tied to 
 your apron-strings. It is to be hoped you will be 
 disappointed. Good soldier's blood will tell. 
 When the boy is grown he will choose his own 
 profession — and a nobler one is not to be found 
 than that which you deny him." 
 
' ' GRO UNO ARMS ! " 119 
 
 "Martha is afraid of the danger to which her 
 only son will be exposed," remarked Aunt Marie, 
 who chanced to be present, "but she forgets that 
 when one is ordained to die, his fate will meet him 
 whether in his bed or on the battlefield." 
 
 " I suppose you mean that if a hundred thou- 
 sand men are fated to fall in battle, the same num- 
 ber would come to their end in time of peace?" 
 
 Aunt Marie was prepared with an immediate 
 reply. 
 
 " The hundred thousand were decreed to die in 
 battle." 
 
 " Suppose men were clever enough to refuse to 
 go to war? " 
 
 " That is an impossibility," cried my father, and 
 the usual combat began. 
 
 There is nothing to which the fable of the Hydra 
 so well applies as to that monster, unreasoning con- 
 viction. Scarce have we cut off one head of the 
 argument and turned to tackle the second, before 
 the first is grown again and active as ever. 
 
 My father always had a few favorite arguments 
 in defense of war, which were unconquerable: 
 
 1. Wars are the decree of God; the Lord of Hosts 
 has himself ordained them (see Holy Writ). 
 
 2. Wars have always existed, therefore they will 
 always continue to exist. 
 
 3. The earth, without this destructive agency, 
 would suffer too great an increase of population. 
 
 4. Perpetual peace would relax and enervate the 
 race, and a consequent demoralization would ensue. 
 
 5. War is the best means for the development 
 of self-sacrifice, of heroism, in short for the strength- 
 ening of character. 
 
 6. Mankind will always differ. Complete har- 
 mony in all respects is not possible; different in- 
 terests must be antagonistic; consequently to ex- 
 pect perpetual peace is an absurdity. 
 
 None of these wise sayings can be logically main- 
 tained when you show their absurdity; but each 
 serves its defender as a breastwork when he sees 
 
120 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 the preceding fall around him, and while he re- 
 treats from the ruins of the one he intrenches him- 
 self in the old earthworks round the other. For 
 example, finding number four no longer tenable, 
 and obliged to acknowledge that a condition of 
 peace is for humanity more certain of securing 
 happiness, intellectual progress, and financial pros- 
 perity, he will agree: " War is in truth an evil, but 
 unavoidable." 
 
 Then, when in reply to numbers one and two it 
 is proved that by international agreement, by in- 
 ternational jurisprudence, war could be avoided, he 
 acknowledges that it could but should not. Then, 
 at number five the tables are turned, and the advo- 
 cate of peace proves that, on the contrary, war 
 develops all the brutality and inhumanity of man. 
 " Well, possibly, but there is yet number three." 
 This argument, when brought forward by the 
 defenders of war, is of all the most uncandid. It 
 serves, in truth, far better those who detest war. 
 He who loves war and would retain it as a factor 
 of existence certainly does so from no thought of 
 the welfare of succeeding generations. The violent 
 decimation of the present generation by death, by 
 epidemic disease and impoverishment, the result of 
 war, is certainly not deliberately planned to pro- 
 tect the future from possible starvation and suffer- 
 ing. If human means were necessary to obstruct for 
 the general welfare a too rapid increase of popula- 
 tion, a more direct measure might be conceived than 
 war. The argument is but a trick which meets 
 with success, because for the moment it puzzles us. 
 It sounds so monstrously learned and so humane. 
 For think upon it; we ought to leave elbow room 
 for our descendants a thousand years from now. 
 But few people are conversant with such matters 
 of social economy and natural law; but few are 
 aware that the relative rate of deaths and births 
 remains about the same, that the danger to exist- 
 ence, developed by unusual vicissitudes, does not 
 reduce population, but rather tends to increase it. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 131 
 
 After a war the number of births increases and the 
 loss is soon made good; after a long peace popu- 
 lation decreases, and so this phantom of surplus 
 population disappears. All this we do not keep 
 clearly in view; we only feel instinctively that this 
 famous number three is not quite right, and is not 
 honestly believed by the opponent. One is gen- 
 erally satisfied to quote the old proverb: " It is 
 already provided that trees shall not grow into the 
 heavens," and to add that the powers that be do 
 not have this result in mind. 
 
 The contention will never end. The military 
 mind reasons in a circle, where we may continually 
 pursue but never come up with it. 
 
 New Year's Eve, 1866. We sat together around 
 my father's table when the first hour struck of this 
 momentous year. When the hand of the clock 
 pointed at twelve and shots were fired on the street 
 below, our enterprising cousin Conrad drew Lilli 
 to him and — to our surprise — pressing his lips to 
 hers, boldly asked: 
 
 "Will you have me in '66?" 
 
 " Yes, I will," she roguishly replied, and congrat- 
 ulations were showered upon them. 
 
 My father brought the tumult to an end by strik- 
 ing his seal ring upon his glass as he rose to offer 
 his New Year's toast: 
 
 " My dear children and friends, the new year 
 begins well, with the prospect of the fulfillment of 
 my dearest wish, for I have long wanted Conrad as 
 a son-in-law. It is to be hoped that during this 
 year Rosa may find her ideal and that you — Mar- 
 tha and Tilling — may have a visit from the stork. 
 For you. Doctor Bresser, I wish swarms of patients 
 — a wish not quite consistent with the good wishes 
 we have all exchanged; and for you, dear Marie, 
 who are so fatalistically inclined, a grand prize 
 or a full indulgence, or whatever else you desire. 
 For you, my Otto, I could wish all manly and heroic 
 virtues, that you may become the ornament of the 
 
122 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 army and the pride of your old father's heart. 
 I must hope something for myself, and since I 
 have no greater desire than the welfare and fame 
 of Austria, may the coming year bring Lombardy 
 back to us — or, who knows? — Silesia also. It is 
 possible that we may re-conquer from the arro- 
 gant Prussian this province stolen from the great 
 Maria Theresa." 
 
 I remember that the termination of my father's 
 oration fell like a cold chill upon the company. 
 
 " No, dear Father," I replied; "in Italy and Prus- 
 sia it is also the New Year; we will not wish them 
 any evil. May this year '66 make all mankind 
 better, more harmonious, and happier." 
 
 My father shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " O, you fantastic dreamer," he said compassion- 
 ately. 
 
 "No," replied Frederick, coming to my relief, 
 " Martha's wish is not that of a dreamer, but its 
 fulfillment is pledged to us. Mankind has grown 
 better, happier, and more united from primeval 
 ages to the present, but so slowly, that a little span 
 of time like a year can mark no perceptible prog- 
 ress." 
 
 " If you are so sure of perpetual progress," ex- 
 claimed my father, "why are you continually com- 
 plaining of the re-action, of the relapse into bar- 
 barism?" 
 
 " Because " — and Frederick pulled a pencil from 
 his pocket and drew on a piece of paper a spiral — 
 "because the progress of civilization goes on just 
 like this. Does not this line continually ascend, 
 though it appears to be tending backward. This 
 coming year may be represented by one of these 
 curves, particularly if, as seems only too probable, 
 a war is forced upon us. Such an event hurls civ- 
 ilization in material as well as moral things a long 
 way backward." 
 
 "You are not talking like a soldier, Tilling." 
 
 " I am talking of a matter of universal interest. 
 Whether my views are right or wrong, those of a 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 123 
 
 soldier or a civilian, is of no consequence. The 
 truth is always the same. If a thing is red should 
 one obstinately maintain that it is blue? " 
 
 " A what? " said my father. When a discussion 
 was disagreeable, he was very apt to be seized by 
 spasms of deafness. Few people had the patience 
 to repeat, and most of them preferred to give up 
 the battle. 
 
 When we had returned t^ our own home, I asked 
 my husband: 
 
 " What did you say, that there is prospect of war? 
 I will not allow you to go into another campaign — 
 I will not." 
 
 " How can this passionate ' I will not ' help us, 
 Martha. The nearer the war is to our door the 
 more impossible it will be for me to resign. Im- 
 mediately after Schleswig-Holstein it was possible, 
 but not now." 
 
 To arms! to arms! was now the general cry. For 
 defensive purposes it was necessary that we should 
 arm ourselves. Prussia maintained that we were 
 secretly arming, therefore she proceeded to arm 
 herself. What is the use of all this clash of arms if 
 neither intends to attack? Whereupon my father 
 quoted the old proverb: Si vis pacem, para bellum. 
 Each keeps an eye upon the other; each accuses 
 the other of malice aforethought. 
 
 Again this endless circle. 
 
 On the twelfth of March my father rushed, beam- 
 ing with joy, into my house. 
 
 " Hurrah! " he cried; "good news! " 
 
 " Disarmament? " I questioned eagerly. 
 
 " On the contrary, yesterday a great council of 
 war was held, and our military condition is really 
 magnificent. We are ready at an hour's notice to 
 march out with eight hundred thousand men. 
 Benedek, our ablest strategist, is general-in-chief 
 with absolute powers. I tell you in confidence, 
 child, Silesia is ours if we desire it." 
 
 For days uncertainty was all we knew. On the 
 
124 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 twenty-fourth of March Prussia issued a proclama- 
 tion complaining of the armament of Austria. On 
 the twenty-eighth it was announced in Berlin that 
 the fortresses in Silesia had been re-enforced by 
 Prussian troops, and that two army corps were in 
 readiness to protect the country. The thirty-first 
 of March Austria disclaimed any intention of at- 
 tacking Prussia, and demanded that the latter dis- 
 arm. Prussia also declgired herself as innocent of 
 any belligerent intention toward Austria, but, in 
 view of the threatening aspect of the standing army 
 of the latter, felt compelled to continue her own 
 preparations. So the duet continued. Italy organ- 
 ized and armed as fast as possible, and the duet 
 became a trio. Austria declared herself for the 
 rights of Augustenburg, and Prussia complained 
 that this was a breach of the Treaty of Gastein. 
 
 The most thoroughly hated man in Europe was 
 Bismarck. An attempt was made upon his life. 
 1 received a letter from Aunt Cornelia who wrote 
 that in Prussia the approach of war was regarded 
 with intense dissatisfaction, while with us there 
 was general enthusiasm in its favor. She added 
 that Bismarck was almost as much hated and feared 
 in Berlin as in Vienna. Loud protests were heard 
 against this " fratricidal war," and it was said 
 Queen Augusta had implored her husband to in- 
 sist upon peace. If our beautiful Empress had 
 done the same, and every other woman whose 
 right to the life of husband and son is greater than 
 that of the state, would it have helped the cause 
 of peace and humanity? 
 
 On the first of June Prussia announced that she 
 would disarm when Austria and Saxony did so; 
 Austria excused herself so long as Italy's full equip- 
 ment was a menace to her borders, and demanded 
 that the German Alliance undertake the settle- 
 ment of the question of the duchies. Prussia pro- 
 tested, claiming rights granted by the Gastein 
 treaty; the Treaty of Vienna was appealed to as 
 insuring mutual occupation; Prussia therefore pro- 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 125 
 
 ceeded to invest Holstein and made no pretense to 
 any right to obstruct Austria's possession of Sciiles- 
 wig. As Prussian troops marched into Holstein 
 Gablenz retreated without drawing sword, but 
 under protest. 
 
 Bismarck had said, in a diplomatic circular just 
 before this event, that Austria had not met the ad- 
 vances of Prussia, and that from the most authen- 
 tic sources the King had been informed of expres- 
 sions used by the Emperor's cabinet ministers and 
 advisers (tittle-tattle), which indicated that these 
 men were determined to force war upon the coun- 
 try, partly in the hope of aggrandizement by suc- 
 cess in the field, and partly with the expectation 
 of improving Austria's bankrupt financial condition 
 through Prussian tribute. 
 
 On the ninth of June Prussia again declared that 
 Parliament had no authority to settle the Schles- 
 wig-Holstein question. The press now grew more 
 defiant in tone, and, as is the patriotic custom, it 
 was certain of victory. The possibility of defeat 
 must never be suggested to the loyal subject whose 
 monarch calls him into the battlefield. Brilliant 
 editorials pictured the prospective march of Bene- 
 dek into Berlin, as well as the probable plundering 
 of the city by the Croats. Some journals demanded 
 that Prussia's capital should be leveled with the 
 ground. " To pillage," " Level with the ground," 
 "Put to the sword" — these expressions do not rep- 
 resent the opinions or the conscience of the time, 
 but stick to people who learned them at school — 
 from the histories of wars and conquests. Having 
 been copied in exercise books at school and learned 
 by rote, they naturally fly to the point of the pen so 
 soon as one sits down to discuss the theme of war. 
 Contempt for the enemy cannot be expressed too 
 fiercely; the Vienna press no longer spoke of Prus- 
 sian troops otherwise than as tailors' apprentices. 
 Adjutant-General Count Griinne contemptuously 
 declared that we would chase these Prussians with 
 wet rags, Such are the conventional methods of 
 
126 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 making a war "popular." Such things nourish 
 national self-conceit. 
 
 On the eleventh of June Austria appealed to the 
 Imperial Council of the German Confederation 
 that it should take issue with Prussia's investment 
 of Holstein, and call out all the troops subject to 
 the German Alliance. 
 
 On the fourteenth of June this appeal came up 
 and was approved by a vote of nine to six. 
 
 All is over. The embassadors have received their 
 passports. On the sixteenth the Imperial Council 
 called upon Austria and Bavaria to come to the 
 help of Saxony and Hanover, already attacked by 
 Prussia. 
 
 On the eighteenth Prussia's war manifesto was 
 published. On the same date the manifesto of the 
 Emperor of Austria and Benedek's proclamation to 
 his troops were announced. On the twenty-second 
 Prince Frederick Charles issued his first army 
 order, and the war was begun. I have preserved 
 these four documents. 
 
 King William said: 
 
 "Austria never forgets that her princes once ruled 
 Germany, and is not willing to recognize in Prussia sim- 
 ply a member of the Confederation, but always regards 
 her as a rival. Prussia, she insists, must be antagonized 
 in all her undertakings, because what benefits Prussia 
 injures Austria. An old, unjust jealousy has again burst 
 out into fierce flames; Prussia must be crushed, destroyed 
 and dishonored. Treaties can no longer be observed 
 with her. Wherever we turn in Germany, we find our- 
 selves surrounded by enemies whose battle-cry is tht 
 humiliation of Prussia. To the very last moment I have 
 sought the road of reconciliation — but Austria would not 
 agree to it." 
 
 On the other hand the Emperor Francis Joseph 
 announces: 
 
 " The latest events indicate the incontestible intention 
 
 , of Prussia to set might in the place of right. So that this 
 
 most unholy of wars — a war of German against German 
 
 — has become unavoidable. To answer for all the misery 
 
 to be brought upon individuals, families, and country, I 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 127 
 
 summon him, who has precipitated this war, before the 
 judgment seat of history and of the eternal, almighty- 
 God." 
 
 Always the other side that wishes war! Always 
 the other one who is accused of resolving that 
 might shall overcome justice. An "unholy war," 
 because it was "German against German." Quite 
 right; it is a step forward when above Prussia and 
 Austria the appeal to Germany is made. But a 
 much higher plane would be reached if every war 
 were recognized as a war of mankind against man- 
 kind, that is, civilized man against civilized man, 
 and were regarded as an unholy fratricidal contest. 
 
 And of what use to summon before the judg- 
 ment seat of history? History as hitherto written 
 gives judgment to the victor. Around the con- 
 queror falls the golden halo of history, and he 
 becomes the great promoter of civilization. 
 
 And before the judgment seat of God, the 
 Almighty? Is he not the same who is always repre- 
 sented as the Lord of Hosts, and is the outbreak 
 as well as the termination of every war other than 
 the result of the immutable will of this same 
 Almighty? Oh, contradiction upon contradiction! 
 Where shall we find truth under all these con- 
 ventional phrases, where two antagonistic princi- 
 ples — war and justice, international hatred and 
 love of humanity, the God of Love and the God of 
 Battles — are set against each other as equally holy. 
 
 And Benedek said: 
 
 " We find opposed to us an armed force composed of 
 two distinct parts: militia and troops of the line. The 
 first is composed of young men unaccustomed to fatigue 
 or privation, who have never engaged in an important 
 campaign. The last consists of an untrustworthy, dis- 
 satisfied element, which had much rather attack its own 
 unpopular government than fight against us. In conse- 
 quence of long years of peace the enemy does not possess 
 one single general who has had the opportunity to perfect 
 himself upon the battlefield. Veterans of Mincio and 
 Palestro, I hope under your old experienced leaders you 
 will not give such opponents the slightest advantage. 
 
128 "GROUND ARMSI" 
 
 For some time the enemy has boasted of his new rapid- 
 firing rifles; but, my men, I thinlc we will not allow him 
 to put these into use. We will charge upon him with 
 bayonets and clubs. With God's help the enemy will be 
 beaten and forced to retreat; we will follow close upon 
 his heels, and in the enemy's country you will find rest 
 and compensation in the richest measure, to which such 
 a victorious army has the fullest right." 
 
 Prince Frederick Charles finally spoke: 
 
 " Soldiers! Faithless and treacherous Austria has with- 
 out declaration of war long since ceased to respect the 
 Prussian boundaries of Upper Silesia. I should have 
 been justified, even before a declaration of war, in cross- 
 ing the Bohemian frontier. I have not done it. To-day 
 I issue this general order, and to-day we will enter the 
 territory of the enemy in order to spare our own country. 
 Our beginning is with God. (Is this the same God with 
 whose help Benedek has promised to drive back the 
 enemy with bayonets and clubs.?) In his hands we rest 
 our cause who guides the hearts of men, who decides 
 the fate of nations and the outcome of battles. As it is 
 written in Holy Scripture : ' Lift up your hearts to the 
 Lord and your hands against the enemy.' 
 
 " On the issue of this war depends, as you know, Prus- 
 sia's holiest interests and the existence of our beloved 
 country. The enemy is determined upon its partition 
 and humiliation. Shall the streams of blood shed by our 
 fathers under Frederick the Great, and by ourselves at 
 Diippel and Alsen, have been shed in vain? Never! We 
 will not only maintain Prussia as she is, but make her, 
 through victory, mightier and more glorious than ever. 
 We will be worthy of our fathers. We depend upon the 
 God of our fathers that he will be gracious to us and bless 
 Prussia's arms. And now, forward with our old battle- 
 cry: ' With God for king and country. Long live the 
 king! ' " 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 129 
 
 FOURTH BOOK. 
 
 1866. 
 
 SO it was here again, that greatest of all con- 
 ceivable miseries, and was hailed by the popu- 
 lace with the usual jubilant shout. The regiments 
 marched out (would they ever return?) with bless- 
 ings and cheers, followed by the wild plaudits of the 
 youngsters of the streets and alleys. 
 
 Frederick had already been ordered to Bohemia 
 before the declaration of war. This time I was 
 spared the heart-rending parting which followed 
 the direct order into the field. When my father 
 brought me the triumphant assurance, "now it has 
 begun," I had already been alone fourteen days, 
 during which I had lived like the criminal in hourly 
 expectation of sentence of death. 
 I bowed my head and said nothing.* 
 " Be of good courage, child. The war will not 
 last long — day after to-morrow we may be in 
 Berlin. Your husband returned from Schleswig- 
 Holstein in safety, so he will probably get back 
 from this campaign with brighter laurels than ever. 
 Unpleasant as it must be to him, being of Prussian 
 origin, to fight against Prussia, still he is Austrian 
 to the core. Those Prussians! We will drive them 
 out of the German Confederation — the arrogant 
 wind-bags! They will have reason to repent when 
 
 Silesia is again ours and when the Hapsburgs " 
 
 I stretched out my hands: 
 " Father, I implore you, let me alone." 
 He may have suspected an outbreak of tears, and 
 as he was an enemy of all pathetic scenes he hastily 
 retired. But I had no place for tears. It was as 
 if a crushing blow had fallen upon my head. 
 Breathing with difficulty, staring at vacancy, I sat 
 
130 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 motionless. Finally I rose and going to my desk 
 wrote in my red journal: 
 
 " The sentence of death has been passed. A hundred 
 thousand human beings will be executed. Will Frederick 
 be among them? And I among them — for what am I 
 that I should escape destruction with the other hundred 
 thousand.' I wish I were already dead." 
 
 On the same day I received from Frederick a 
 few hastily written lines. 
 
 " My wife! Be brave, keep up your heart. We have 
 been happy; the past no mortal can take from us, even if 
 for us, as for many others, the decree is issued. To-day 
 we advance upon the enemy. Perhaps I shall recognize 
 among them a few old comrades of Diippel and Alsen^ 
 possibly my cousin Gottfried. We march upon Liebenau 
 with the advance guard of Count Clam-Gallas. From 
 this time expect no letters, or at the most a line, should I 
 have the opportunity to assure you of my safety. I can 
 think of but one word which expresses my whole love for 
 you — Martha! You know all that means to me." 
 
 Conrad Althaus had also been ordered into the 
 field. He was full of fire and martial ardor and 
 infused with the necessary hatred of Prussia to 
 enable him to go cheerfully; but the parting was 
 hard. The official permission to marry had arrived 
 but two days before marching orders. 
 
 " Oh Lilli, Lilli," he exclaimed, " why have you 
 hesitated so long? Who knows whether I shall 
 ever return? " 
 
 My poor sister was filled with remorse. Passion- 
 ate love now awoke and she wept bitterly in my 
 arms. 
 
 " Why have I been so foolish! If I were only his 
 wife! " 
 
 " That would have made the parting much harder 
 my poor Lilli." 
 
 I joined the family at Grumitz. I was oppressed 
 with 1;he idea of widowhood. Occasionally the 
 cheerful thought of the possibility of Frederick's 
 return restored me to a more temperate frame of 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 131 
 
 mind, but it was not for long. I constantly saw 
 him wounded, suffering untold agony, perishing for 
 a drop of water, Jieavy wagons rolling over his mu- 
 tilated limbs, gnats and stinging insects torment- 
 ing his open wounds, or the people employed to 
 bury the dead carrying him yet living to be thrown 
 into the trench. 
 
 With a shriek I sprang up at this thought and 
 my father scolded angrily. 
 
 " What is the matter with you, Martha? You will 
 become insane if you brood in this way. Drive all 
 such thoughts from your mind. It is wicked." 
 
 I had several times given utterance to these fears, 
 which exasperated my father to the highest degree. 
 
 "Wicked," he continued, "and improper and 
 foolish. Such things occur once in a thousand 
 times among private soldiers, but they would not 
 neglect a staff officer like your husband. One 
 should not think about such horrible things. It is 
 a species of frivolity, of desecration of war, if one 
 allows the misery of the individual to keep out of 
 view the grandeur of the result." 
 
 " Yes, yes, do not think of it," I answered. " That 
 is the proper attitude in regard to all human mis- 
 ery. Not think! and barbarism rests upon it." 
 
 The Red Cross organization had been created a 
 little time before. I had read the pamphlet of 
 Dunant which had suggested its necessity. The 
 little book was a heart-breaking cry of anguish. 
 The noble author, a patrician of Geneva, had 
 hastened to the field of Solferino; and what he saw 
 there he told to all the world. Countless wounded 
 had lain five, some even six, days without assist- 
 ance. He had done all in his power, but what 
 could he, a single man, do to alleviate this mass of 
 misery? He saw many who could have been saved 
 by a bit of bread or a drop of water; he saw others, 
 still breathing, buried with frightful haste. Then 
 he spoke out what had often before been realized, 
 which now first received attention, that the field 
 
133 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 hospital organization of an army could no longer 
 meet the necessities of a modern battlefield. And 
 the Red Cross was organized. , 
 
 Austria had not sent delegates to the Geneva 
 convention. Why? Why is everything which is 
 new, no matter how simple and beneficent, met with 
 opposition? The law of indolence — the power of 
 sanctified precedent. " The idea is very fine, but 
 impracticable," I heard my father several times 
 repeat in the year 1863, when different delegates 
 had argued with him. "Impracticable, and, even 
 if practicable, in many respects undesirable. The 
 military service could not tolerate the presence 
 of private individuals on the battlefield. In war 
 tactics must take precedence of humanity. How 
 could this private undertaking prevent its abuse 
 by spies? And the expense. Does not war cost 
 enough already? The volunteer system of nurses 
 would become burdensome through their unavoid- 
 able additional cost; or if they provided for them- 
 selves in the occupied country, would not this 
 cause greater expense to the commissary depart- 
 ment, by consequent rise in prices?" 
 
 Oh, this magisterial sagacity! — so dry, so learned, 
 so neutral, so dripping with wisdom, and — oh, bot- 
 tomless stupidity! 
 
 The first engagement in Bohemia took place on 
 the twenty-fifth of June at Liebenau. The report 
 was brought by my father with his usual triumph- 
 ant manner. 
 
 " It is a magnificent beginning! We see that 
 Heaven is with us. It is significant that the first 
 with whom these wind-bags have had to deal are 
 our men of the famous ' Iron Brigade.' You remem- 
 ber the brigade of Poschacher, which so nobly de- 
 fended Konigsberg in Silesia. They must have 
 punished those fellows well!" (The next report 
 from the seat of war was that, after five hours com- 
 bat this advance guard of Clam-Gallas retreated to 
 Podol. Later I knew that Frederick was in this en- 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 133 
 
 gagement, and that the same night the barricaded 
 Podol had been attacked by General Horn, and 
 the battle continued by bright moonlight.' " But 
 better news than that from the north," continued 
 my father, " is the beginning in the south. At Cus- 
 tozza a victory has been won — a brilliant one. I 
 told you Lombardy would be ours yet. I regard 
 the war as decided. If we so soon finish off the 
 Italians, a regular, disciplined army, we shall not 
 have much trouble with the tailors' apprentices. 
 This militia — it is pure impudence, and of a piece 
 with everything Prussian, to consider itself fit to 
 engage regular soldiers. Fellows from the shops, 
 from the bench, and such rubbish, cannot possibly 
 stand against such blood and iron soldiers as ours. 
 See here what a special correspondent of the Vi- 
 enna Press writes, under date twenty-fourth June. 
 It is good news: " 
 
 " The cattle plague in its most serious form has broken 
 out in Prussian Silesia." 
 
 "'Cattle plague,' 'serious!' Is this your good 
 news?" said I, shaking my head. " Fine things we 
 are asked to rejoice over in war times. It is lucky 
 that black and gold turnpike gates stand on the 
 frontier — perhaps they will keep the plague on that 
 side." 
 
 But my father paid no attention, and read on 
 with increasing pleasure: 
 
 " Among the Prussian troops fever is raging. The un- 
 wholesome swamp lands, bad subsistence, and miserable 
 quarters in the crowded villages of the surrounding 
 country could not but produce such results. The Aus- 
 trians have no idea of the character of the subsistence of 
 the Prussian soldiers. The nobility believe they can ask 
 any sacrifice of the common people. Three ounces only 
 of salt pork are issued to each man. These men are un- 
 accustomed to forced marches, or to any other hardships, 
 and find such short rations next door to starvation." 
 
 " The papers are full of stirring news. You 
 ought to save the papers, Martha." 
 
 I have saved them. We ought always to do that; 
 
134 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 then, when a new struggle is in prospect, we should 
 not need to read the latest news, but could refer to 
 the accounts of the preceding war. We could thus 
 judge of the amount of truth in all the prophecies, 
 army orders, and reports. It is instructive. 
 From the seat of war in the north: 
 
 " From the latest reports the Prussian army has moved 
 its head-quarters to Eastern Silesia. (Here follows in the 
 usual tactician's style a lengthy account of the evolutions 
 and position of the enemy, of which the gentlemanly cor- 
 respondent evidently has a much clearer conception in his 
 mind's eye than either Moltke or Roon.) It appears to 
 be the object of the Prussians to prevent the march of our 
 army upon Berlin, which, however, in view of the prep- 
 arations to this end (which our special correspondent 
 knows more about than Benedek), they will scarcely suc- 
 ceed in doing. With the fullest confidence the public 
 may await important movements on the part of the north- 
 ern army, which though not so speedily forthcoming as 
 perhaps anticipated, will be all the more fraught with far- 
 reaching consequences. 
 
 . . . " The New Frankfort Journal reports an in- 
 teresting occurrence which took place at Munich when 
 the Austrian troops of Italian nativity marched through. 
 They consisted of several battalions of infantry recruited 
 in Venice, and they were marched from the railway 
 station to a neighboring beer garden and restaurant. All 
 were convinced of the enthusiasm with which these Vene- 
 tians served against the enemies of Austria. (Perhaps 
 everybody realized how easily drunken soldiers can be 
 made to shout for anything.) At Wtirzburg these troops 
 found the railway station filled with an Austrian regi- 
 ment of infantry on their way to the seat of war; these 
 were also Venetians, and the rejoicing was universal (all 
 being equally drunk) over the opportunity of meeting and 
 punishing these dangerous enemies of peace. (It is always 
 the other side which breaks the peace. Those who were 
 so gratified by these vivas of drunken soldiers should re- 
 member there is nothing so deceptive as such accla- 
 mations. A thousand roaring voices are not the ex- 
 pression of a thousand minds, but simply indicate the 
 imitative instinct of mankind.)" 
 
 Field Marshal Benedek sent out from Triibau, in 
 Bohemia, three bulletins announcing to the army 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 135 
 
 of the north the victories of the south. Attached 
 to them was the following order for the day. 
 
 " In the name of the northern army I have sent the 
 following; to the commander of the army of the south: 
 ' Field Marshal Benedek and the entire northern army 
 congratulate the glorious commander and the brave army 
 of the south upon their great victory at Custozza. With a 
 magnificent victory the campaign has been opened in the 
 south. Glorious Custozza adorns the shield of honor of 
 the imperial army.' Soldiers of the army of the north, 
 with shouts you will receive this news, which will inflame 
 your zeal for battle, when we also can decorate our shield 
 with the name of a famous victory, and report to the 
 Emperor a no less notable triumph, for which your 
 martial enthusiasm burns, and which will be won by your 
 bravery and self sacrifice with the shout: Long live the 
 Emperor. Benedek." 
 
 A telegraphic report of the reply was received 
 at Triibau: 
 
 " The army of the south and its commander send heart- 
 felt thanks to their beloved former field marshal and his 
 brave soldiers, convinced that shortly congratulations for 
 a similar victory on their part will be exchanged." 
 
 " Does not your very heart laugh, child, when you 
 read such news as this?" cried my father. "Can 
 you not rise to such a pitch of patriotic enthusiasm 
 as to forget for a moment your private affairs — 
 that your Frederick, Martha, and your Conrad, 
 Lilli, are exposed to danger, danger from which 
 they will probably escape, and to endure which — a 
 lot they share with the noblest sons of the nation 
 — is both fame and honor? There are no soldiers 
 who would not willingly die for their country." 
 
 " If after a defeat they are left with shattered 
 limbs upon the field," I said, "^nd are there neg- 
 lected for four or five days and nights to suffer 
 from hunger, thirst, and inconceivable anguish, 
 decaying while still alive, slowly dying, knowing 
 all the time that through their death their country 
 gains nothing, though family and loved ones are 
 brought to the verge of despair; I should like to 
 
136 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 know if these men will spend their time crying 
 that they die willingly." 
 
 "You are outrageous! You use such coarse 
 language; for a woman it is not decent." 
 
 " Yes, yes, that is the truth; the actual circum- 
 stance is outrageous, infamous," I cried. " Only 
 the phrases sanctioned by a thousand-fold repeti- 
 tion are respectable." 
 
 Among Frederick's papers — many days later — I 
 found a letter, which I wrote at that time and sent 
 to him at the seat of war. This letter shows most 
 clearly the sentiments with which I was then op- 
 pressed. 
 
 Grumitz, 28 June, i866. 
 
 Dearest: 
 
 I do not live . . . Picture to yourself that in 
 the next room people are discussing whether you shall be 
 executed within a few days or not, while I outside must 
 abide by their decision. During this period of uncer- 
 tainty I breathe, it is true, but can I call that living? The 
 next room, in which this question is to be decided, is Bo- 
 hemia. But after all, my love, the comparison is not apt. 
 For if the question were as to my own life or death the 
 terror would not be so great. My anxiety concerns a 
 much dearer life than my own, — and, even more than 
 your death, it tortures me with fears of your possible 
 mortal agony. Oh, if it were only over ! If our victory 
 would only follow swiftly — not because of the victory, 
 but because the end would be reached! 
 
 Will you receive these lines? And where and when? 
 Will it be after a fierce day of battle, or in camp, or pos- 
 sibly in the hospital? — in any event it will be grateful to 
 you to receive news from your Martha. Even if I cannot 
 write otherwise than sadly— how can anything but sad- 
 ness be felt at a time when the sun is obscured by the 
 great, black funeral pall which has been suspended above 
 our country, to be dropped over her children! Even 
 then these lines musl^bring you pleasure, for you love me. 
 Frederick — I know how dearly — and these written words 
 rejoice and move you as the soft stroke of my hand. 
 
 I am with you, Frederick, you must know, in every 
 thought, in every breath you draw, by day and night. 
 Here at home I live and move and speak and act me- 
 chanically; my own self — that which belongs to you— 
 does not leave you an instant. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 137 
 
 My boy alone reminds me that the world contains some 
 other being which is not yourself. The good little fel- 
 low! If you only knew how often he asks after you and 
 how anxious he is about you. We two talk of nothing 
 else than of " Papa." He knows very well, the sympa- 
 thetic child ! that this is the one thing of which my heart 
 is full, and small as he is, he is already, in his fashion, the 
 friend of his mother. I talk to him as if he were grown 
 and he shows his gratitude. On my side, I am grateful 
 to him for the love which he dedicates to you. It is 
 rarely that children love their stepfather — certainly there 
 has never been anything of the traditional stepfather in 
 you. You could not be more tender, more gentle with 
 your own son, my dear, faithful lover. Yes, goodness, 
 gentle, great, and generous, is the foundation of your 
 character; and what does the poet say.' "As the heavens 
 mould themselves into one great sapphire vault, so the 
 whole greatness of a noble human being is embraced in 
 goodness." In other words: I love you, Frederick! 
 That is the refrain of all when I reflect upon your char- 
 acter. So confidently, so securely I rest in you, Fred- 
 erick, when I am with you, understand. Now that you 
 are torn from me I have no rest or peace. If the storm 
 were only over, or if it had reached Berlin! My father is 
 convinced that this will certainly be the result of the 
 campaign, and according to all that we hear and see, we 
 are led to believe it. 
 
 " So soon as with God's help the enemy is defeated," 
 says Benedek's proclamation, "we will follow close upon 
 his heels, and in the enemy's country we will rest and 
 compensate ourselves," etc. What sort of compensation 
 does he mean? Nowadays no general dares say aloud: 
 " Come, you may plunder, burn, and ravish," as was the 
 custom in the Middle Ages, in order to incite the hordes. 
 Now. one can only promise at the most a slice of terri- 
 torial sausage, but as that is somewhat uncertain, they 
 decorate it in flowery style as "those compensations," 
 etc. You can understand it as you please. The principle 
 of compensation from the resources of the enemy's coun- 
 try still lives in the style of soldierly ethics. And how 
 could you compensate yourself in the enemy's country, 
 which with you is your land- by inheritance, where your 
 friends and your cousins still live? Will it be to you a 
 compensation to level with the ground the pretty villa 
 where your Aunt Cornelia lives? "The enemy's country!" 
 That is one of those fossil ideas of a time when war was 
 unreservedly a robber's raid, and when the enemy's 
 
138 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 country was simply the booty to entice the vassal recruit, 
 I write to you as we talk in those lovely hours when 
 you are at my side, when we have finished one of those 
 works of progress, over which we philosophize upon the 
 contradictions of our times, and when we so tenderly, so 
 sympathetically understand each other. Around me now 
 there are none to whom I can speak of these things. 
 Doctor Bresser was the only one with whom I could ex- 
 change sentiments in condemnation of war, and he is now 
 gone, drawn into the service to heal wounds, not make 
 them. What a contradiction is this humanity in war! It 
 is much like reason and faith. One or the other; but 
 humanity and war, reason and dogma — they do not go 
 together. An outright, burning detestation of the enemy, 
 coupled with a complete contempt for human life-— that 
 is the inspiring soul of war, just as the unquestioning 
 stifling of the reason is the fundamental condition of faith. 
 But we live in a period of accommodation where old in- 
 stitutions and new ideas are equally powerful. People 
 cannot quite break with the old, and cannot quite com- 
 prehend the new, and so they try to mould the two 
 together, and hence results this inconsequent, contra- 
 dictory, deceitful, half-hearted confusion under which the 
 soul, thirsting for truth, justice, and consistency, groans 
 and suffers. 
 
 Ah, see what I have written! You will scarcely be in 
 the mood — as in our quiet hours of musing — to listen to 
 such generalizations. You are surrounded by a terrible 
 reality to which you are compelled to succumb. How 
 much better it would be for you, if you could accept it 
 with the simple sentiment of the old times, when a martial 
 life was actually the soldier's delight. And it would be 
 better if I could write, like other women, letters full of 
 prophecies of victory, spurring you with promises of 
 blessings. The girls are trained to patriotism, so that at 
 the proper moment they can urge men to die for their 
 country, as the noblest death, or promise: " When you 
 return crowned with victory, we will reward you with our 
 love. In the meantime we will pray for you. The God 
 of Battles, who protects our armies, will hearken unto 
 our prayers. Day and night our petitions will mount to 
 Heaven and we will obtain its favor. You will return 
 crowned with fame aijd victory! We do not tremble, for 
 we are the worthy mates of brave men. No, no! — the 
 mothers of your sons dare not be cowardly, if they would 
 bring into the world a new race of heroes; and we must 
 
"GROUND ARMS!-' 139 
 
 give up our dearest. For king and country no sacrifice 
 is too great! " 
 
 That would be the right sort of a letter to a soldier, 
 would it not? but not the letter which you would wish to 
 receive from your wife, from the partner of your thoughts, 
 who shares with you the detestation of blind and anti- 
 quated human madness — oh! a detestation, so bitter, so 
 painful that I cannot express it. When I picture to my- 
 self these two armies, composed in the main of reasonable, 
 good, and gentle human beings, who dash upon each 
 other for mutual destruction, devastating the unhappy 
 country and like chess players capturing and recapturing 
 defenseless villages; when I think upon all this, I feel 
 like crying out: " Reflect a moment — stop for an instant!" 
 and of a hundred thousand ninety thousand, as individu- 
 als, would willingly stop; but as a mass they rage onward. 
 But enough of this. You had rather hear the gossip and 
 news from home. To begin: we are all well. Father is 
 in a continual ferment over the present complications. 
 The victory of Custozza filled him with most radiant 
 pride. He acts as if he had won it himself. In addition, 
 he regards the event as so brilliant that a portion of its 
 glory he shares as an Austrian and as a general. And 
 Lori, whose husband, as you know, is with the army of the 
 south, has written me a letter of triumph over Custozza. 
 Frederick, do you remember how jealous I was of the 
 good Lori for a quarter of an hour, and how from this 
 little circumstance has grown a still stronger love and 
 confidence? Oh, if you had ever deceived me or even 
 treated me a little shabbily, I could bear this separation 
 more easily; but to know that such a husband is in the 
 range of bullets! But to go on with the news: Lori has 
 informed me that she with her little Beatrice will spend 
 the rest of her straw widowhood in Grumitz. , I tannot 
 decline the visit; but just now her presence will be a 
 burden to me. I should prefer to be alone, alone with 
 my longing for you, which no other being can realize. 
 Next week Otto begins his vacation. He laments in 
 every letter that the war broke out before instead of after 
 his officer's commission. He hopes to God that peace 
 will not " break out " before his release from the academy. 
 The words, "break out," he did not actually use, but it 
 expresses his state of mind, for he regards peace as a 
 genuine calamity. Well, certainly, that is the way they 
 are all trained. So long as wars exist, war-loving soldiers 
 must be found, and so long as war-loving soldiers exist- 
 so long will wars endure. Is that to be the eternal, hope- 
 
140 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 less circle? No, thank God! For human love, spite of 
 all this drilling of the schools, grows apace. We found 
 in Buckle, you remember, the evidence of this develop- 
 ment. But I do not need a printed book as proof. I 
 only need to look into your noble, human heart, Fred- 
 erick, to convince me of this truth. 
 
 But to return: from our relatives in Bohemia, we re- 
 ceive on all sides the most piteous letters. The march 
 of an army through a country — even when on the road to 
 victory — desolates and devastates the land; how will it 
 be when the enemy penetrates the region, when the 
 battle ground is chosen in their neighborhood and their 
 castles and fields are at stake. Everything is prepared 
 for flight, their goods are packed, their valuables are 
 buried. Good-by to the pleasant visits to Bohemian 
 watering places; good-by to brilliant autumn hunting 
 parties; and most of all, good-by to the accustomed reve- 
 nues from harvest and manufactures. The crops are 
 destroyed, the factories which have not been burned 
 down have been robbed of their workmen. "It is a 
 genuine misfortune," they write, "that we live in the 
 border lands, and a second misfortune that Benedek has 
 not more promptly adopted the offensive and carried the 
 war into Prussia." Perhaps one might consider it a mis- 
 fortune that the whole political squabble could not be 
 decided by a court of justice, instead of by murderous 
 onslaughts either upon Bohemian or Silesian soil. Ac- 
 cording to trustworthy reports of travelers, human beings, 
 green fields, and factories are also to be found in Silesia. 
 But no one thinks of such a thing as that. 
 
 My little Rudolph sits at my feet while I write. He 
 sends his embraces and his love to our little Puxl. We 
 both miss the funny little creature, but on the other hand 
 he would have missed his master, and he is a pleasure to 
 you. So we both send our regards to Puxl. I shake 
 his honorable paw and Rudi kisses his good, black nose. 
 
 And now, for to-day, good-by, my all ! 
 
 " It is extraordinary! Defeat after defeat! First 
 the capture by moonlight of the village of Podol, 
 where the brigade of Clam-Gallas had thrown up 
 breastworks; then the taking of Gitchin. The 
 needle gun, the damned needle gun, mowed down 
 our men by windrows. The enemy's two great 
 army corps, under the Crown Prince and Prince 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 141 
 
 Frederick Charles, have united and are marching 
 upon Miinchengratz." 
 
 Such was the terrible report brought by my 
 father, though he would not acknowledge the possi- 
 bility of further disaster. 
 
 "They ought to enter Bohemia — all together — and 
 there meet destruction to the last man. A retreat 
 would not be possible for them, we would surround 
 them and the outraged population would turn upon 
 them. It is not very easy to operate in the ene- 
 my's country, for you have not only the army, but 
 the people, against you. At Trautenau the people 
 poured boiling water and oil from the windows 
 upon the Prussians." 
 
 I uttered a cry of horror and disgust. 
 
 " What would you have? " said my father shrug- 
 ging his shoulders. " It is certainly horrible, but it 
 is war." 
 
 " Then do not dare assert that war ennobles a 
 people! Acknowledge that it debases, brutalizes, is 
 devilish!" 
 
 " Justifiable self-defense and a fair revenge, Mar- 
 tha. Do you think their needle guns are pleasant 
 weapons against our side? Our brave fellows are 
 mowed down by those murderous weapons like 
 slaughtered beeves. But we are too well disci- 
 plined, too numerous, not to beat the ' tailors' ap- 
 prentices.' In the beginning a few mistakes were 
 made, that I will acknowledge. Benedek ought to 
 have crossed the Prussian frontier at once. I am 
 a little doubtful whether our choice of a field mar- 
 shal was wise. It might have been better to have 
 sent the Archduke Albrecht north and Benedek to 
 the army of the south. But I will not find fault 
 so soon — the decisive battle is yet to come. We 
 are now concentrating our forces at Koniggratz; 
 there — over a hundred thousand strong — we will 
 await the enemy; there we will win our northern 
 Custozza." 
 
 There Frederick would also be engaged. His 
 last letter, which had arrived this very morning 
 
142 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 (I had heard regularly from him), reported: " We 
 are on the march to Koniggratz." 
 
 I have in my possession all of these notes, writ- 
 ten on horseback, in his tent, with pencil, on sheets 
 torn from a note-book. There is no carefully writ- 
 ten army report style about them; none of the ef- 
 fusive strategic wisdom of the special correspond- 
 ent; no rhetorical display of battlefield landscape; 
 but such as they are I give them: 
 
 " It is a warm, lovely summer night — the broad, indif- 
 ferent heavens are full of glittering stars. The men lie 
 upon the ground, exhausted by the long forced march. A 
 few tents have been pitched for us staff officers. In mine 
 there are three camp beds. My two comrades are asleep, 
 while I sit at a table with a candle and a lot of empty 
 glasses. By the feeble, flickering light I am writing to 
 you, my beloved wife. 
 
 " I have laid Puxl on my bed. How tired the poor ras- 
 cal is! I almost regret that I brought him; he, also, as 
 some of our side are repeatedly saying of the Prussians, 
 is not accustomed to the fatigues and privations of a cam- 
 paign. He is sleeping and snoring, possibly dreaming of 
 his friend and patron, Rudolph, Count Dotzky. And I 
 am dreaming of you, Martha. True, I am awake; but as 
 deceptively as in a dream I see your figure in a dusky 
 corner of the tent, sitting on a camp stool. What a long- 
 ing possesses me to go over there and lay my head in 
 your lap. But I dare not move else the image will dis- 
 appear." 
 
 " I stepped out a moment. The stars shine with greater 
 apathy than ever. Here and there shadowy forms flit 
 over the ground; they are the stragglers, who, guided by 
 the camp fires, have made their way to us. But not all — 
 many lie far behind in ditches and cornfields. The heat 
 was fearful during this march. The sun was as brass and 
 burned into the very brain, the knapsacks were heavy, 
 and the guns rested on sorely bruised shoulders; yet no 
 one complained. Many have fallen and could not rise 
 again. Some died instantly from sunstroke. Their 
 bodies were loaded upon an ambulance. 
 
 " This night of June, so clear and warm, is enchanting. 
 We do not hear the nightingales nor does the odor of 
 roses and jasmines reach us. All sweet sounds are over- 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 143 
 
 powered by the stamping and neighing of horses, the 
 voices of restless men, and the even tramp of the guard. 
 But more is to come; we do not yet hear the croak of the 
 raven nor smell powder, blood, and corruption. All this 
 hereafter, ad majorem patriae gloriam. Astonishing how 
 blind mankind are! They will break out in curses upon 
 the fearful fanaticism which lit martyr fires 'to the 
 greater honor of God'; and yet for the corpse-strewn 
 battlefields of the present they have nothing but admi- 
 ration. The torture chambers of the dark Middle Ages 
 fill them with abhorrence, but they are proud of their 
 arsenals. 
 
 " From the esthetic standpoint the most desirable sit- 
 uation to obtain a view of the battlefield is to be upon 
 a hill surrounded by a group of generals and distin- 
 guished officers. You hold a deld-glass to the eye. The 
 painters of battle scenes and the illustrated papers, recog- 
 nize the due value of the position. They frequently pic- 
 ture another view of a field marshal on a rise of ground, 
 dictating orders to his staff, or the same figure on a white, 
 high-stepping horse, with one arm stretched toward a 
 smoke covered part of the plain, and the head turned as 
 if calling to those behind: ' Follow me, my children.' 
 
 " From these commanding situations we .really do get 
 an idea of the poetry of war. The picture is magnificent 
 and at a sufficient distance to give all the scenic effect, 
 without its horrors and disgusting realities: no flowing 
 blood, no death rattle, nothing but superb effects of line 
 and color. On the roads, perhaps, long serpentine march- 
 ing columns, far as the eye can reach, upon the plain 
 regiment after regiment of infantry, detachments of 
 cavalry, and batteries; then the ammunition train, farm 
 wagons pressed into service, pack horses, and, behind all, 
 the baggage. 
 
 " Still more forcible is the picture, when on the plain 
 below we watch the onslaught and encounter of two 
 hostile forces. The glitter of arms, the floating banners, 
 the uniforms of all sorts, excited, prancing horses, all in 
 one mad whirl of action; over these clouds of smoke, so 
 thick in many places that it veils all within it; at times it 
 rises and we catch a glimpse of struggling, fighting 
 masses. Then as accompaniment, echoing through the 
 hills, the roar of artillery whose every shot means death 
 — death. Yes, this is something to inspire a battle song. 
 It is something also for the writer of the history of his 
 
144 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 times, which must be published after the campaign is 
 over, to have been upon this hilly outlook. With some 
 show of truth he can relate how Division X attacked the 
 enemy, drove them back, and reached the critical posi- 
 tion; how strong re-enforcements marched up and were 
 seen on the left flank, etc., etc. But he who has taken 
 active part on the field and has had no such point of 
 observation can have no idea of the progress of a battle. 
 He sees, thinks, and feels only what is nearest him; what 
 he afterwards reports is mainly conjecture or the result 
 of later reading. 
 
 " The village is ours — no, the enemy has it — it is again 
 ours — and again the enemy has it, but a village no longer 
 exists; nothing but a heap of flames and ashes. The 
 inhabitants (was it not really their village?) had, fortu- 
 nately, early abandoned it; for a skirmish in inhabited 
 places is horrible; shells and balls strike all alike, women 
 and children. One family had remained behind, an old 
 couple and a married daughter in childbed. Her hus- 
 band served in my regiment. He said to me as we 
 approached the village. ' Over there, Lieutenant-Colonel, 
 in the house with the red roof, my wife lives with her old 
 father and mother. They could not get away. For 
 God's sake order me to go there.' Poor devil! he arrived 
 in time to see "his wife and child killed by a shell and the 
 walls falling about the old people; he never saw them 
 again. I once saw an attack upon a village where a 
 breastwork had been made of the dead bodies of the 
 fallen — not all dead — I saw one move his arm from out 
 the hideous pile. 
 
 "Living still! That is the most awful, too frequent 
 condition of many hopelessly wounded. Is there no 
 angel of compassion to hover over battlefields and touch 
 with the tender hand of death all these poor wretches. 
 
 "To-day we had a little cavalry engagement in the 
 open field. A Prussian regiment of dragoons came 
 trotting up and deployed into line; then, with horses well 
 in hand and sabers above their heads, they rode on to us 
 at a sharp gallop. We did not wait for the attack but 
 sprang to meet them. Not a shot was exchanged. A 
 few steps from each other both ranks broke out into a 
 thundering cheer (maddened by sound! that the Indians 
 and Zulus understand better than we), and we sprang 
 upon one another, horse to horse, knee to knee, sabers 
 swinging in the air and crashing down upon the heads, 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 145 
 
 We were soon so mixed up that weapons could not be 
 used; pressed breast to breast the horses became mad 
 with fright and pranced and reared, striking out with 
 their hoofs. Once I fell upon the ground and saw — what 
 is not a pleasant thing — struggling and striking hoofs 
 within an inch of my head. 
 
 " We are again upon the march, skirmishing on the 
 way. I have had a great grief. It pursues me like a 
 tragic picture. Amidst the many scenes of misery sur- 
 rounding me, it ought not to cause me such keen regret. 
 But I cannot help it; it touches me nearly, and I can- 
 not shake it off. Puxl — our poor, lively, warm-hearted 
 dog — I ought to have left him at home with his little mas- 
 ter Rudolph! He ran after us, as usual. Suddenly he 
 uttered a mournful howl — a grenade had shattered his 
 front legs. He could no longer follow us and I was 
 obliged to leave him, living still. Twenty-four, forty- 
 eight, hours may pass before he dies. He whined after 
 his master: ' Dear, good master, do not leave your poor 
 Puxl and break his heart! ' What torments me most is 
 that the poor creature cannot know my regrets — that 1 
 heard his cry for help and yet so cruelly passed him by. 
 He does not know that a marching regiment, from whose 
 ranks comrades fall and are abandoned, cannot halt for a 
 poor, wounded dog. Of my higher duty he knows noth- 
 ing, and the poor, faithful heart mourns over my lack of 
 sympathy. 
 
 "The knowledge that a man in the midst of such im- 
 portant events and such gigantic misfortunes, which fill 
 the present, can allow such small affairs to trouble him, 
 would cause many to shrug their shoulders — but not you, 
 Martha, not you. I know you will shed a tear for our 
 poor Puxl." 
 
 " What is the matter there ? Has a spy been caught? 
 One? Seventeen. There they come in four rows, four in 
 a row, marching with bowed heads, surrounded by a guard. 
 Behind them, in a wagon, a corpse is lying, and bound to 
 the corpse, sitting on it, the son of the dead man, a twelve- 
 year-old boy — also to be shot. I cannot witness the execu- 
 tion. I turn away but hear the firing. Behind the wall 
 a smoke rises, all are gone. The boy with them ! 
 
 " At last we find comfortable quarters for the night in 
 a little town. (A miserable hole!) Supplies, which the • 
 
146 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 inhabitants have taken months to hoard, we have coolly 
 taken on a requisition. ' Requisition! ' it is always fine to 
 be able to give a right, melodious, diplomatically sanc- 
 tioned name to a thing. 
 
 " I was very glad, however, that good quarters and a 
 comfortable meal were to be had. And — I have some- 
 thing to tell you. 
 
 " I was ready for bed, when my orderly announced that 
 a man of our regiment was without and had something 
 for me. He came in. When he left I had rewarded him 
 richly and shaken both hands, and promised him to care 
 for his wife and child, should anything befall him, for 
 what the good fellow brought me gave me great delight 
 and relieved me from the pain I had suffered for thirty- 
 six hours — it was our little Puxl. He was badly mangled 
 but still living, and so happy to see his master, who in 
 turn so rejoiced over him that he could no longer feel 
 that he had been willingly abandoned. Yes, that was a 
 happy meeting! but first a drink of water. How good it 
 was! he stopped now and then to bark his joy. After- 
 wards I bound up his stumps of legs, gave him a supper 
 of meat and cheese, and carefully put him to bed. We 
 both slept well. In the morning, when I awoke, he licked 
 my hand, then stretched out his legs, breathed heavily 
 and ceased to be. Poor Puxl, it was better so! " 
 
 " What have I seen to-day.? If I shut my eyes it all 
 comes before me with frightful clearness. Nothing but 
 scenes of horror and agony ! Why do others bring back 
 from war such fresh, joyful experiences? They do not 
 attempt, in their accounts, to stick to truth and nature, 
 but paint the scenes, story-book fashion, as is deemed 
 heroic — the more horrible, the more indifferently; the 
 more shocking, the more dispassionately. Of disapproba- 
 tion, indignation, rebellion, not a word. Possibly they 
 heave a few sentimental sighs of sympathy. But up with 
 the head again — 'Lift up your hearts to God and your 
 hand against the enemy.' Hurrah! 
 
 " Here are two of the scenes imprinted on my memory. 
 
 "There were steep, stony heights in the foreground, 
 with jagers climbing up them like cats. The order was 
 to take the position. From above the enemy kept up a 
 fierce fire. What I saw were the figures of the struggling 
 men leading the attack. One was struck by the shot of 
 those above. He threw up his arms, his gun fell, and 
 head backwards he rolled over and over down the cliff, 
 breaking bones and crashing to the bottom. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 147 
 
 " Or this other scene : A rider a short distance from 
 me was struck by a shell. His horse sprang to one side, 
 touched the flank of mine, and shot forward. The rider 
 still sat in the saddle, though the shell had torn away the 
 lower part of the body ; an instant later he fell, and with 
 foot hanging in the stirrup was dragged by his horse 
 along the stony ground. 
 
 " Upon a steep and overflowed roadway stood a section 
 of artillery with wheels sunk deep in the mire. Only 
 by most extreme efforts, dripping with sweat and urged 
 by cruel blows which were rained upon them, could the 
 horses drag the guns through; one, overcome with fatigue, 
 dropped in its tracks. Blows were of no service; it could 
 not move. Does not the man, whose blows are falling 
 upon the head of the poor beast, see this? If the rough 
 rascal were the driver of a wagon loaded with stone upon 
 the highway, any policeman — or I myself — would have 
 arrested him. But this cannoneer, who was responsible 
 for his gun, only fulfilled the duty of his position. This 
 the horse could not know; the tormented, willing, faith- 
 ful creature, who made the most desperate exertions to 
 do his duty — what must it think of such cruelty and such 
 misunderstanding of its efforts — think, as animals think, 
 not with words and ideas, but with sensations — sensations 
 the more powerful because of their impossibility of ex- 
 pression? Only one audible sign can it give: a shriek of 
 agony. And it did shriek as it fell — t^e poor creature! — 
 a cry so long-drawn and agonizing that it sounded in my 
 ears for hours after, and pursued me in dreams. It was 
 a frightful dream. It seemed to me — how can I tell it? 
 dreams are so irrational that they are difficult to ren- 
 der into reasonable speech — it seemed as if I heard the 
 shrieks not of one but one hundred thousand artillery 
 horses, for in the dream I rapidly calculated the numbers 
 perishing on the field. 'Mankind, which causes this 
 frightful danger to life, knows the why and wherefore; but 
 we unhappy creatures can see no cause for all this suffer- 
 ing and misery. Mankind marches upon the enemy, but 
 we are surrounded by enemies — our own masters, whom 
 we love and serve, to whom our best powers are offered, 
 hew us down and let us lie helpless in our agony. And 
 what anguish we endure; terror so great that sweat 
 drenches our bodies; thirst — for we, too, have fever — oh, 
 this thirst — this thirst suffered by us miserable, abused 
 one hundred thousand horses!' Here I awoke and grasped 
 for my water flask — I was parched with fever. 
 
148 •'GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 "There was a running fight going on in the streets of a 
 town. To the shouts of the combatants were added the 
 crash of falling timbers, the tumbling of walls. Fighting 
 along the narrow streets, we reached the open market 
 square. In the middle stood a stone image of the Ma- 
 donna. The mother of God held her child on one arm, 
 the other she stretched out in blessing. Here the struggle 
 was demoniac, man to man. A Prussian dragoon, strong 
 as Goliath, seized one of our officers (a smooth, elegant 
 lieutenant, the darling of the ladies), dragged him from 
 the saddle, and beat his brains out at the foot of the 
 statue of the Madonna, who looked on indifferently. An- 
 other, also a giant in stature, seized my neighbor and bent 
 him backward until I heard the backbone crack, and then 
 threw him under the outstretched hand of blessing." 
 
 " From the hills the staff officers had again to-day a 
 diversified view of the spectacle of battle. For instance, 
 there was the falling of a bridge while a train of wagons 
 was crossing it. Were the wagons filled with wounded 
 men? I do not know, I could not see, I only saw that 
 horses, wagons and human beings sunk and disappeared 
 in the deep and rapid stream. The circumstance was 
 regarded as rather lucky, for the wagons belonged to ' the 
 Blacks.' I always mentally call our side the white, the 
 other the black party. The bridge had not fallen acci- 
 dentally. The white party, knowing that the enemy 
 would pass over it, had sawed the timber supports — so 
 that it was a successful strategy. 
 
 "A second glance which one had from the same eminence 
 disclosed a misfortune for the Whites': Khevenhiiller's 
 regiment was inveigled into a swamp, where it sunk and 
 was almost entirely destroyed by the shells of the enemy. 
 They sunk in the mire, mouth, nose and eyes filled with 
 the slime; they could not utter a sound. Of course it 
 was a tactical mistake, but ' to err is human,' and the loss 
 of a few peasants more or less is not worth consideration. 
 The slime remains in the eyes and mouths of the fallen; 
 but that is of no special consequence, and the mistake of 
 the tactician can be made good by some lucky later com- 
 bination, for which the leader will receive a few fine 
 orders and decorations. That lately, in a night attack, 
 our Eighteenth jager battalion fired for several hours 
 upon another of our regiments, only discovering the 
 mistake when day broke; and that a portion of the regi- 
 ment of Gyulai was led into a pond: all these are small 
 
"GROUND ARMSl" 149 
 
 affairs which in the heat of conflict can happen to the 
 best regulated commands." 
 
 " It is decided; when I return from this campaign I 
 shall leave the army. Without any other consideration, 
 when a man has learned to abhor a thing so thoroughly 
 as I now detest war, it is a living lie to remain in the 
 service. I have always, as you know, gone into the field 
 with repugnance, but this detestation is so increased, my 
 judgment so sharpened, that all grounds formerly held 
 by me as reasons for remaining in my profession are now 
 abandoned. The views of war instilled into me during 
 my youth have not outlived the horrors of the reality. 
 I do not know how much I owe to our mutual study of 
 the subject for this new conception, which is shared by 
 the noblest spirits of the time. However it may be, my 
 determination is unalterable at the end of the campaign 
 to cease to do homage to the God of War. It is a change 
 brought about in somewhat the same way that many 
 people experience a gradual change of faith. At first 
 they are a little doubtful and indifferent, but they attend 
 divine services with a certain reverence. When, however, 
 they get beyond the influence of mysticism, when to them 
 the ceremonies which they attend become absurdest 
 folly, they will no longer kneel with the other deluded 
 beings, will no longer deceive themselves and the world, 
 and will cease to enter the no longer reverenced temple. 
 
 "This is my experience in the service of Mars. The 
 mysterious, supernatural influence which this god has 
 exercised over mankind, and which in my earlier days 
 darkened my judgment, has now entirely ceased. The 
 liturgy of army proclamations, and the ritualistic, heroic 
 phrases have no longer for me the air of an inspired text; 
 the powerful organ tone of the cannon, the consecrated 
 smoke of powder no longer entrances me. Without re- 
 spect or faith I now stand by, viewing the frightful results 
 of this aspect of civilization, but can see nothing save the 
 anguish of the sacrifice, hear nothing save the melan- 
 choly cry of death. This is the reason why these sheets 
 which I fill with my impressions of war convey but one 
 idea of heart-breaking pain." 
 
 The Battle of Koniggratz had been fought. 
 Again it was a defeat. This time it seemed a de- 
 cisive one. No letter, no telegraphic despatch came 
 
150 •'GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 from Frederick. Was he wounded — dead? Con- 
 rad reported his safety to Lilli. 
 
 The list of fatalities had not yet arrived; it was 
 said that the loss in killed and wounded would 
 reach forty thousand. On the third day there was 
 still no sign. I wept and wept, hours at a time. 
 Because my anxiety was not yet hopeless certainty 
 I could weep; if I knew the worst I could shed no 
 more tears. My father was profoundly depressed, 
 and Otto, my brother, full of revenge. A volunteer 
 corps was to be recruited in Vienna, and he talked 
 of joining it. 
 
 Benedek was to be removed, it was rumored, and 
 the victorious Archduke Albrecht ordered to the 
 command in the north. 
 
 After a few days a letter arrived from Doctor 
 Bresser. He was serving in the neighborhood of 
 the battlefield, and he wrote that the misery was 
 infinite, defying all powers of description. He had 
 joined a Saxon surgeon. Doctor Brauer, who had 
 been sent by his government to report the situation. 
 Two days later a Saxon lady was expected, Frau 
 Simon, who had been active, since the war, in the 
 Dresden hospitals, and who had offered to visit the 
 Bohemian battlefields and give such aid as lay in 
 her power. The surgeons were to meet her upon 
 a certain date at Koniginhof, the last station 
 touched by the railroad nearest Koniggratz. Bres- 
 ser begged us to send bandages, and anything else 
 that would be useful, to this station, where he 
 would receive them. I at once determined to take 
 the box myself, though I did not dare to inform 
 my family of my intention. 
 
 I announced that I would prepare the box, and 
 without difficulty left Grumitz. From Vienna I 
 determined to telegraph to my father that I was on 
 my way to the battlefield. True, I had doubts as 
 to my capacity for usefulness, and my inexperience 
 troubled me; in addition, my profound disgust for 
 wounds, blood, and death hampered me. But I 
 was oppressed by a continual presentiment that 
 
"GROUND ARMSI" 151 
 
 Frederick was in danger, and heard in imagination 
 his piteous appeals for help; from his bed of pain 
 he seemed to stretch out his hands to me, and " I 
 come, I come," was the only thought of which I 
 was capable. 
 
 In a few hours I was on the way. I found Vienna 
 in the wildest excitement, and drove to the Northern 
 Station under continual stress of fear. Around and 
 within the station were crowds of wounded and 
 dying men, who were hurried to hospitals as fast as 
 possible on their arrival. The most intense life — 
 or should I not say death? — raged about us. The 
 corridors, the waiting-rooms, the ante-rooms, were 
 filled with wounded in the agonies of death. Swarms 
 of citizens brought presents for the suffering, and 
 anxiously searched for their own relatives, while 
 nurses, the sanitary police. Sisters of Charity, sur- 
 geons — formed a mass of eager, surging humanity. 
 In vain the officials endeavored to drive back the 
 crowd. 
 
 " What do you want? Make way there! The dis- 
 tribution of food and liquors is forbidden. Hand 
 everything over to the committee — they will receive 
 your presents." 
 
 " No, no," I replied, " I want to take the train; at 
 what hour can I go?" 
 
 It was with difficulty that I got any information 
 as to departing trains. Passenger trains were no 
 
 longer going out. I caught sight of Baron S , 
 
 president of the Patriotic Relief Corps, and im- 
 plored his aid. 
 
 " Could I not go with the next supply train? " 
 
 "Impossible." 
 
 I seemed to hear Frederick's voice, pleading 
 more and more piteously for me to come. I was 
 driven to the brink of despair. 
 
 " For God's sake help me, Baron S . You 
 
 surely recognize me? " 
 
 "Baroness Tilling, daughter of General Althaus, 
 certainly I have the honor." 
 
 " You are about to send a train to Bohemia. My 
 
152 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 dying husband needs me. If you have a heart — and 
 you show by your activity how good and noble 
 your heart is — do not refuse my request." 
 
 With many doubts he finally consigned me to the 
 care of a surgeon who was to accompany a train 
 carrying hospital and sanitary supplies. The train 
 would not be ready for an hour. Not a corner was 
 to be found not already occupied by the wretched 
 sufferers. A long train came in filled with more 
 wounded. The less seriously injured stepped down 
 unaided; for the worst cases cots were provided, 
 upon which they were carried under shelter. At 
 my feet they laid a man who gasped unceasingly. 
 I stooped over him to say some sympathetic word, 
 but sprang back in horror, covering my face with 
 my hands. His features no longer bore the sem- 
 blance of a human countenance; the under jaw was 
 shot away, one eye was hanging out, and there was 
 a suffocating odor of blood and corruption. The 
 idea came into my head that this might be Freder- 
 ick, and I compelled myself to look again. No — it 
 was not my husband. 
 
 The poor wretch was carried away. 
 
 " Lay him on the bench there," I heard the regi- 
 mental surgeon order. " No use in sending him to 
 the hospital. He's already three-fourths dead." 
 
 He was three-fourths dead! And yet he must 
 have understood these words, for with a gesture of 
 despair he raised his arms to heaven. 
 
 The hour passed, and with four Sisters of Charity 
 and several surgeons I sat in the car. It was suffo- 
 catingly warm, and the odor of carbolic acid and 
 medicinal supplies was nauseating. How grateful 
 I felt to these people for their self-sacrificing spirit 
 in hastening to the aid of the sufferers. These 
 brave women, who cherished for all mankind a love 
 which I felt only for my husband, by its power 
 were enabled to master that repugnance natural at 
 the sight of such horrors, through the greater love 
 they bore their bridegroom, Christ. But what a 
 small measure of love to conquer the result of a 
 thousand-fold of hate. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 153 
 
 The train was set in motion. That is always the 
 moment when every traveler feels as if on the road 
 to his goal. I had often gone over this route and 
 every moment I was reminded of hospitable visits 
 in castles which we passed, of the charming water- 
 ing places I had seen, and most of all of my wed- 
 ding journey, when on our way to a warm welcome 
 in the capital of Prussia (what a different meaning 
 this last word had for us now!). And to-day? 
 What was our aim to-day? To reach a battlefield 
 and a hospital — death and suffering. I shuddered. 
 
 " You are unwell, Madam?" asked a young and 
 sympathetic surgeon. " I have been told you go to 
 join your husband, wounded at Koniggratz?" 
 
 " No, Doctor," I answered, " I am not ill, only 
 weary." 
 
 " Baron S informed me that your husband 
 
 is wounded at Koniggratz," said the staff-surgeon 
 joining in the conversation. " Do you know in what 
 locality to look for him? " 
 
 " I do not know where to find him. I expect to 
 meet Doctor Bresser." 
 
 " I know him. He was with me when I visited 
 the battlefield three days ago." 
 
 " Visited the battlefield! " I repeated, shuddering; 
 " tell me " 
 
 " Yes, tell us about it, Doctor," said one of the 
 Sisters, " it may aid us in our work." 
 
 The surgeon told his story. The exact wording 
 I no longer remember, but it all made so deep an 
 impression that I afterwards wrote it in my journal, 
 from which I now copy it. 
 
 Under ordinary circumstances I might have 
 found it difficult to remember it so accurately; but 
 the impressioii that Frederick was wounded and 
 calling for me had become a fixed idea. Hence I 
 imagined him figuring in every scene, and conse- 
 quently the narration became intensely real. 
 
 " The ambulance corps had established its quarters just 
 below some protecting hillocks, not far from where the 
 
154 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 engagement had already begun. The earth and the very 
 air trembled with the shock of battle. Clouds of smoke 
 rose to the heavens; the guns roared unceasingly. 
 
 " Orders came to send out the relief patrol to bring in 
 the wounded. 
 
 "It is heroism to march steadfastly in the midst of 
 showers of bullets, shot and shell, to witness all the 
 horrors and all the dangers of the struggle, and be sus- 
 tained by none of the wild passion of the conflict .' Ac- 
 cording to all the accepted theories of war, no fame may 
 be accorded to such courage as this. With the Sanitary 
 Commission there serves no dashing, gallant, swaggering 
 youngster; for them no enthusiastic girls turn for an after 
 glance, nor can regimental surgeons measure attractions 
 with a cavalry lieutenant. 
 
 " The corporal having charge of the relief corps ordered 
 his men to a point on the field upon which one of the 
 batteries of the enemy had opened fire. They marched 
 through the grey veil of powder, smoke, and dust, balls 
 falling in front and around them. They had scarcely 
 crossed the open ground when they met straggling 
 groups of wounded — these only the slightly wounded, 
 able to help themselves and each other. One fell in- 
 sensible. It was not because of his wound, though that 
 was serious; it was exhaustion. ' We have eaten nothing 
 for two days,' they said ; ' we made a forced march of 
 twelve hours, went into camp, and two hours later came 
 the long roll and the battle.' 
 
 " The relief moved forward. These men must help their 
 comrade. On the stony side of a rise of ground lay a 
 bleeding mass — a dozen or more men. The surgeons 
 bound up the most urgent and desperate wounds, but 
 neither can these victims be taken back; perhaps later 
 they may be helped, after those now lying in the thick 
 of the battle have been looked after. 'Forward relief!' 
 As they approach the point of attack, the groups of 
 staggering wounded increased and surrounded them. 
 Water and spirits were measured out, bandages hastily 
 applied, a word of encouragement was spoken, and the 
 way to the ambulance was pointed out. On again they 
 went, past the dead, — the piles of dead. All these creat- 
 ures, horse and human being, showed in feature and atti- 
 tude the extreme of suflfering. Staring, agonized eyes, 
 hands ground into the earth, the hair of the beard stiff- 
 ened, teeth clinched together under tortured, half-open 
 lips, legs and arms rigid in the awful convulsions of death 
 — there they lay. 
 
"GROUND ARMSl" 155 
 
 " Now the relief patrol entered a ravine. Here the men 
 lay as in a slaughter house, dead and wounded mixed to- 
 gether. The wounded greeted them as rescuing angels, 
 and with broken voices, weeping, whispering, implored 
 piteously a little help— only a little water. In vain! Sup- 
 plies were almost exhausted, and the little served so few. 
 One needed a hundred hands. Suddenly there arose 
 above the roar of battle the long drawn notes of the 
 sanitary call. The corporal started, waiting for the second 
 signal, while the broken and mangled wretches piteously 
 begged not to be left upon the field. Again and again the 
 bugle shrilly called, and an adjutant rode furiously up. 
 ' Sanitary Corps! ' he sharply called, and they followed 
 his command. 
 
 " Evidently it was a wounded general. Orders must be 
 obeyed and these men must be abandoned. 'Courage 
 and patience, comrades; we will be back again.' Those 
 who spoke and those who heard knew this was not true. 
 
 " They rushed forward after the adjutant. They could 
 not stop a moment, though right and left rose cries for 
 help and groans of agony. One or two fell on the field, 
 struck by a passing ball, but they too were left. They 
 swung round heaps of human beings mangled by the feet 
 of cavalry and crushed by the wheels of cannon, but 
 even here were remnants of desperate life struggling to 
 rise at sight of the rescuing party." 
 
 So it goes on, page after page, in my red note- 
 book. There is an account of the moment when, in 
 the midst of the binding up of wounds, shells burst 
 over the group and new wounds were torn open; 
 or, when the chance of battle brought the conflict 
 around the ambulances, and surgeons, wounded, 
 and dying were swept down by the lieeing and 
 pursuing troops; or when terrified horses, mad 
 with agony, rushed over the stretchers on which 
 the desperately wounded were being carried, who 
 were thus thrown crushed and lifeless on the 
 ground. Or this is described — the most frightful 
 scene of all. A hundred helpless men had been 
 carried into a farmhouse; their wounds had been 
 dressed and they had been made as easy as possible. 
 The poor creatures were cheerful and grateful for 
 their rescue. A shell set the place in a blaze. A 
 moment later and the shrieks of despair were heard 
 
166 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 even above the ceaseless roar — such wild and des- 
 perate despair as will be remembered to their dying 
 day by those who heard it. Ah, me! Though I 
 did not hear it, save through the surgeon's account, 
 it remained hideously unforgotten. For while he 
 told it I seemed to hear Frederick's voice rising 
 from the raging flames where these poor martyrs 
 died. 
 
 " You are unwell, dear Madam," the surgeon said 
 hastily. " I have tried your nerves too much." 
 
 But I had not heard enough. I assured him that 
 my faintness was merely the result of the heat and 
 a preceding bad night. I begged him to continue. 
 It seemed to me as if of all these pictures of de- 
 moniac passion the last and the most terrible re- 
 mained. 
 
 " There is one thing still more frightful than the 
 battlefield; that is, the field after the battle. We 
 hear no thunder of cannon, no roar of musketry, no 
 roll of drums nor blast of trumpets; we see no flut- 
 ter of flags, no regimental guidons; we only catch 
 low, shuddering groans and dying gasps. The 
 trampled earth reeks with damp, shimmering pud- 
 dles. All the fruits of the field are destroyed save 
 here and there some straw-covered remnant of 
 grain. Smiling villages are laid in ruins and ashes. 
 The trees of the forest are charred and destroyed; 
 the hedges are torn up by shells; and upon this 
 desolated spot lie thousands and thousands of dead 
 and dying — hopeless, helpless, dying. Not a blos- 
 som or a blade of grass is to be seen, nothing but 
 sabers, bayonets, knapsacks, clothing, abandoned 
 caissons, spiked cannon. Near the cannon the 
 ground is the bloodiest; there lies the greatest num- 
 ber of dead or half-dead bodies, literally torn to 
 pieces by shot. And the mangled horses — such of 
 them as have any legs left — make efforts to rise, fall 
 again, and again struggle up, until at last, throw- 
 ing up their heads, they announce in agonized, 
 dying shrieks nature's utter overthrow. A gully 
 was filled with mangled bodies. The unfortunate 
 
"GROUND ARMSI" 157 
 
 men, severely wounded, had crept into it, hoping to 
 be hid; but a battery had run over them; horses' 
 hoofs and wheels had crushed them. Many were 
 still living, hopelessly living. 
 
 "There is something more devilish than all this, 
 the appearance of the vilest scum following in the 
 wake of war-waging humanity — the battlefield hy- 
 ena. Scenting the booty on the bodies of the fal- 
 len, these monsters in human shape stoop over dead 
 and living and tear the clothing from their bodies. 
 Merciless! Boots are jerked off bleeding limbs, 
 rings are drawn from wounded hands, or if the 
 ring does not slip easily, the finger is cut off with 
 it. If the living victim faintly protests the hyena 
 quickly puts a knife into his throat, or, for fear of 
 after recognition, tears out his eyes." 
 
 I screamed aloud as the doctor paused. I had 
 followed his story with absorbed attention, and the 
 eyes he described became to me for the moment 
 the clear, blue, loving eyes of Frederick. 
 
 "Forgive me, Madam," he said gently. "But 
 you would hear it." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I wish to hear it all. What you have 
 described was the night which immediately fol- 
 lowed the battle. Was it starlight when these 
 things happened? " 
 
 " Yes, and torches were seen all over the field. 
 The details sent out by the victors to search for 
 and bring in the wounded carried torches and 
 lanterns, and red lanterns were hung on poles to 
 indicate the position of field hospital work." 
 
 "And the next morning — how did the place then 
 look? " 
 
 " Even more fearful. The contrast afforded by 
 the clear, glorious light of day made the fiendish 
 work of man seem doubly horrible. Night had 
 given a ghostly, fantastic aspect, which by day 
 became simply hopeless. One then first realized 
 the astonishing numbers of the dead; upon the 
 Streets, in the fields, in the ravines, behind crum- 
 
158 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 bling walls, everywhere was death. Plundered and 
 naked, the dead and wounded were in the same 
 condition. 
 
 "Notwithstanding the untiring work of the Sani- 
 tary Corps, numbers of these poor wretches still lay 
 uncared for, either benumbed and half-unconscious, 
 or calling upon all who passed to shoot or stab 
 them to put an end to their misery. Swarms of 
 carrion crows settled on the boughs of the trees, 
 croaking their satisfaction at the approaching 
 meal. Starved dogs from the villages licked the 
 wounds. A few of the human hyenas still stealthily 
 plied their trade. And then after all this came the 
 great burial." 
 
 " Who does that, the Sanitary Corps? " 
 
 "How could they undertake such a gigantic 
 task? They have enough to do to care for the 
 wounded?" 
 
 "Details of soldiers?" 
 
 " No; whoever can be picked up, generally camp 
 followers or laborers from the farms around about. 
 But they manage it easily enough. They some- 
 times dig long trenches and throw the bodies in 
 head over heels, just as it happens; or they make 
 a mound of corpses and throw about two feet of 
 earth over them. In a few days a heavy rain will 
 come and wash the earth all away; but what do 
 these fellows care. They were a cheerful set, I 
 can tell you; they sang and whistled at their work, 
 and made all manner of bad puns. They did not 
 trouble themselves to examine very carefully 
 whether there was still any life in these bodies. 
 Some of those who made the narrow escape of be- 
 ing buried alive have told me by what a mere 
 chance they escaped. That is a picture of the 
 next morning," concluded the surgeon. "Shall I 
 tell you what happened the next evening?" 
 
 " I can tell you that," I said. " In one of the 
 capitals of the belligerent powers the telegraphic 
 reports of victory have arrived. In the forenoon, 
 while they are dancing this hyena rondo around the 
 
"GROUND ARMS I" 159 
 
 trenches of the dead out on the battlefield, the peo- 
 ple in the city are collected in the churches singing 
 ' Praise God from whom all blessings flow,' and in 
 the evening the mothers or the wives of some of 
 these poor fellows who are buried alive, fasten a few 
 wax candles in the window, for the town is being 
 illuminated.'' 
 
 " Yes, dear Madam, this comedy is usually played. 
 In the meantime, upon the battlefield itself, the 
 curtain has not been rung down upon the last scenes 
 of the tragedy. Besides those buried or in the hos- 
 pitals, there yet remain the missing. Behind dense 
 thickets, or in the cornfields, or hid beneath the 
 fallen branches of some shattered trees, they have 
 escaped the search of the Sanitary Corps and the 
 grave digger. A martyrdom of several days and 
 nights of agony is the fate of these; they lie in the 
 sweltering heat of midday, the damp chill and hor- 
 ror of the night, bedded on stones and thistles, 
 within reach of the stench of decaying corpses, 
 and dreading the descent of the carrion birds upon 
 their own festering wounds." 
 
 It was a wearisome journey. The surgeon had 
 long since ceased to speak, and we all sat absorbed 
 in thought, aroused by an occasional glimpse, from 
 the windows, of the effects of war. True, there 
 were no smouldering ruins of deserted villages; 
 the enemy had not yet marched through the coun- 
 try, but everywhere were evidences of the univer- 
 sal terror at the prospect of their approach. The 
 roads were filled with people following farm 
 wagons loaded with all their household effects. 
 Everything indicated the haste of departure, and 
 they fled knowing but vaguely where they were 
 to find refuge. " The Prussians are coming! " had 
 been the cry filling them with wild unreasoning 
 terror. 
 
 Occasionally a train passed us, carrying the 
 wounded to inland hospitals. All showed the same 
 ashen faces and bandaged heads and limbs. We 
 
160 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 passed stations filled with such men waiting for 
 transportation further south. They had all been 
 brought so far on cots, or, when able to sit up, by 
 the best available conveyances from the field or 
 the temporary hospitals, and were obliged to wait 
 until room could be found in the crowded trains 
 for transfer to Vienna, there to enter the hospital 
 or the cemetery. 
 
 Whenever we stopped the Sisters of Charity 
 moved rapidly and sympathetically among these 
 sufferers, supplying them with water or wine, and 
 bestowing a little care through deft adjustment of 
 a tired shoulder or a weary head. I was useless, 
 unable to control my emotion or repress my phys- 
 ical repulsion. The doctor usually led me hastily 
 into a quiet corner and gave me a biscuit and a 
 little wine. 
 
 This rush and uproar about the stations bewil- 
 dered me; it all seemed a frightful dream — the run- 
 ning hither and thither, the departing troops, the 
 fugitives, the bearers of the wounded who lay on 
 stretchers, the swarm of bleeding, moaning sol- 
 diers, the women crying and wringing their hands; 
 the harsh words of command, the pressure every- 
 where — not a foot of space to pass through — the 
 rumbling of passing cannon, the baggage wagons, 
 the neighing horses, and now and then the an- 
 nouncement of approaching trains of reserves from 
 Vienna — I was helpless indeed. And yet I suffered 
 the very anguish of sympathy. Loaded trains from 
 Vienna filled with reserve troops met us, and some- 
 times stopped at these stations. I could not even 
 glance at these sound, bright young fellows without 
 heart-sickening regrets. With the speed of the 
 wind they were going to meet a similar fate, or per- 
 haps death, and not of their own volition, cheerfully 
 as they might march out. 
 
 However the individual may console himself 
 with the uncertainty of his fate, there is always a 
 certain per cent of the whole which must and does 
 fall. The march into the field, whether of foot or 
 
"GROUND ARMSr 161 
 
 horse, has a certain antique poetry attached to it; 
 but the modern mode of transit, the railroad, the 
 symbol of the unity of civilization, is a hideous con- 
 tradiction. How false sounds the click of the tele- 
 graphic instrument — this superb result of human 
 intellect, which conveys the thought of nations 
 with lightning-like rapidity — all these discoveries 
 to advance the general interests of peoples, to 
 relieve the cares of life, to beautify and enrich 
 it; they are all abused to maintain a relic of an 
 old-world principle which divides nations and de- 
 stroys life. 
 
 " Look at our railroads! see our telegraph lines! 
 we are civilized! " we boast, in order to confute bar- 
 barians, and then abuse these results of culture 
 that we may develop our own barbarism. 
 
 Such thoughts embittered and deepened my suf- 
 fering. I almost envied those who found comfort 
 in simply weeping and wringing their hands. They 
 could not realize my rage against the whole terrible 
 comedy. 
 
 It was late in the evening when I arrived in 
 Koniginhof. My traveling companions had left me 
 at another station. I dreaded lest Doctor Bresser 
 should fail to meet me. I was completely un- 
 nerved by the experiences of the night, and noth- 
 ing except the intolerable anxiety about Frederick 
 enabled me to retain my senses. 
 
 I carried a hand-satchel with a change of clothing 
 and toilet articles. Custom rendered it impossible 
 to conceive of existence without the dainty combs 
 and brushes, the pure soap and water, the silver 
 boxes and fine towels. Cleanliness, that virtue of 
 the body which corresponds to purity of the soul, 
 the second nature of the cultivated human being, I 
 was soon to learn must at such times be entirely 
 renounced. Is it not the natural result? War is 
 the antagonist of civilization, and all the sweet 
 courtesies of culture meet with destruction through 
 it; it is a return to barbarism, and all barbaric evils 
 follow in its train, among th&m that most loathed 
 by the cultivated soul — filth and all uncleanness. 
 
163 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 Koniginhof was filled with the wounded and the 
 station was densely packed; upon the ground, upon 
 the stones, every nook and corner was filled. It 
 was a dark night; the moon had not yet risen and 
 the sky was almost without a star. Two or three 
 lanterns lighted but imperfectly the little station 
 where I left the train. I now began to realize the 
 madness of my mission. Who could tell? perhaps 
 Frederick was on his way home, or perhaps dead 
 and buried; how could I find him here? With 
 the thought of my child and the fear of missing 
 Doctor Bresser I searched for my pocket-book well 
 supplied with bank-notes. It was gone! 
 
 The surgeon-in-chief was pointed out and I was 
 about to hasten to him when I caught sight of 
 Doctor Bresser. In my excitement and relief I 
 threw myself into his arms. 
 
 "Baroness Tilling!" he exclaimed, "what are 
 you doing here? " 
 
 " I have come to help. Is Frederick in your hos- 
 pital ? " 
 
 " I have not seen him." 
 
 The reply was both a relief and a disappoint- 
 ment. It was evident I must search for him. 
 
 " And Frau Simon? " I asked. 
 
 " She has arrived — a magnificent woman! Quick 
 to decide, and prudent; she is just now engaged in 
 having the wounded carried into empty railway 
 cars. She has discovered that the suffering is 
 greatest at Horonewos, and we are going there at 
 once." 
 
 " Let me go with you, Doctor." 
 
 "You — so spoilt and unaccustomed to exertion; 
 why, it is hard, repulsive work." 
 
 " What can I do here, Doctor ? If you are my 
 friend, grant my wish. Introduce me to Frau 
 Simon as a volunteer nurse and I will do all I can." 
 
 "Very well, yonder is the noble woman; come." 
 
 When I was introduced to Frau Simon as a vol- 
 unteer nurse she nodded, but turned at once to 
 order that attention be given to something just 
 
"GROUND ARMSI" 163 
 
 brought to her notice. I could not clearly dis- 
 tinguish her features in the uncertain light. Five 
 minutes later we were on our way. A hay wagon 
 which had brought some wounded men to the sta- 
 tion had been impressed into the service. We sat 
 upon the straw, possibly still wet from the wounds 
 of its previous occupants. The soldier who sat 
 near the driver held a lantern, which threw un- 
 certain shadows upon the street. " Bad dreams, 
 bad dreams," was the continual impression made 
 upon me by all around me. The only thing which 
 forced upon me the reality of the situation was the 
 presence of Doctor Bresser. I had laid my hand 
 on his and his arm supported me. 
 
 "Lean on me, Baroness Martha — poor child," he 
 said softly. 
 
 But what an uncomfortable ride. When one has 
 been accustomed all one's life to rest upon soft 
 beds and ride upon spring cushions, a rickety hay- 
 wagon with a little straw over the rough boards is 
 torture. And I was sound and well. What must 
 it have been to the mangled limbs, the shattered 
 bones, to be driven over the rough stones in such 
 a conveyance! My eyelids felt heavy as lead and 
 finally closed, but sleep seemed impossible to me. 
 The discomfort of my position, the excitement of 
 my nerves prevented it, while thoughts and images 
 of the disaster through which we were passing, all 
 pressed in disordered array upon my brain. Lean- 
 ing on Doctor Bresser's shoulder, half waking, half 
 dreaming, I caught occasional snatches of the con- 
 versation. 
 
 " A portion of the defeated army fled to Konig- 
 gratz. The fortress gates were locked and the 
 fugitives were fired upon from the walls; particu- 
 larly was this the case with the Saxons, who were 
 mistaken in the darkness for Prussians. Hundreds 
 threw themselves into the moat and were drowned. 
 On the Elbe the alarm and confusion reached the 
 highest pitch. The bridges were so crowded with 
 horses and qannon that the infantry could make no 
 
164 "GROUND ARMSr 
 
 use of them. Thousands threw themselves into the 
 river, the wounded men especially." 
 
 " It is said to be frightful at Horonewos," said 
 Frau Simon. " The inhabitants have left the vil- 
 lage and the castle. The ruins are filled with help- 
 less, wounded men. How thankful they will be for 
 our help! But it is so little that we can do." 
 
 "And our surgical aid is so inadequate," said 
 Doctor Bresser. "Hundreds of us could be con- 
 stantly employed. We lack instruments and med- 
 icine. The over-crowding of all these places threat- 
 ens the outbreak of dangerous epidemic diseases. 
 The first care must be to send away as many as 
 possible, but the condition of the majority is so de- 
 plorable that we cannot conscientiously move them ; 
 to send them away means to kill them, to keep 
 them means an outbreak of hospital fever — a hard 
 alternative! What I have seen of misery and suf- 
 fering since the Battle of Koniggratz passes com- 
 prehension. You must prepare yourself for the 
 worst, Frau Simon." 
 
 " I have courage and years of experience. The 
 greater the misery the greater my powers of en- 
 durance." 
 
 " I know that is your reputation. I, on the con- 
 trary, in the midst of so much misery, lose my 
 courage and my heart fails me. To hear hundreds, 
 nay thousands, pleading for help, when we can- 
 not help, is horrible! Not one of our ambulances 
 has had a sufficient supply of stimulants, and we 
 have, also, particularly lacked water. The inhajj- 
 itants, before they fled, rendered the springs use- 
 less; far and near not a piece of bread is to be had. 
 Every roof-covered space — churches, houses, barns, 
 granaries — is filled with sick men. The streets 
 are jammed with everything which goes upon 
 wheels, crowded with wounded men. They are 
 lying there, officers and men, disfigured with blood, 
 dust, and dirt, and dying of incurable wounds." 
 
 "Many die on the way?" 
 
 " Certainly. Many turn over quietly when laid 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 165 
 
 upon a bundle of straw, and breathe their last; 
 others suffer such excruciating agony that they give 
 utterance, in their ravings, to the most fearful 
 curses. Mr. Twining of London must have heard 
 such curses, which prompted, perhaps, the sugges- 
 tion made by him to the Geneva Red Cross Con- 
 ference. He says: 'When the condition of the 
 wounded does not offer the slightest hope of re- 
 covery, would it not be justifiable, after offering 
 them the consolations of religion, so far as circum- 
 stances would admit, to give them a moment of re- 
 flection and then put an end to their agony in the 
 least painful manner. We should thus preserve 
 them from the torments of fever which madden 
 the brain, and perhaps prevent their dying with 
 curses of God upon their lips '." 
 
 " How unchristian," cried Frau Simon. 
 
 " What? The gracious method of relief? " 
 
 "No; but the idea that such martyrs can com- 
 mit sin through the curses of a maddened brain. 
 The God of the Christians is not so unjust, and 
 surely takes every fallen soldier unto himself." 
 
 " Mohammed's paradise is promised to every 
 Turk who slays a Christian," replied Bresser. " Be- 
 lieve me, Frau Simon, all these gods represented 
 as inciting to war, whose blessing and assistance 
 the priests and commander-in-chief promise to 
 the soldier as the reward of murder, are alike deaf 
 to curses and to prayers. Look up there at that 
 star of the first magnitude with a red light; every 
 two years it shines directly above our heads. That 
 is the planet Mars, the star consecrated to the God 
 of War; that god in ancient times was so feared 
 and honored that far more temples were dedicated 
 to him than to the Goddess of Love. At the Battle 
 of Marathon, in the pass of Thermopylae, that blood- 
 red star shone down upon men, and the curses of 
 the dying mounted up to it; they accused it of 
 being the cause of their misfortune, while it apa- 
 thetically and peacefully, just as to-day, moved 
 round the sun. Unfriendly stars? There are none. 
 
166 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 Mankind has no other enemy than man — and no 
 other friend." 
 
 " O Doctor! look there at the flames on the hori- 
 zon; surely it is a burning village." 
 
 I opened my eyes and saw the red light. 
 
 " No," said Doctor Bresser, "it is the moon rising." 
 
 I endeavored to obtain a more comfortable posi- 
 tion and sat up. I determined that I would not 
 again close my eyes; this half-waking, half-dream- 
 ing condition, in which the most frightful and fan- 
 tastic images filled my brain, was unendurable. It 
 was far better to take part in the conversation and 
 break loose from my own thoughts. 
 
 But the Doctor and Frau Simon were silent. 
 They watched the spot where the moon was slowly 
 rising. At length sleep really closed my eyes. 
 
 After a lapse of time which I could not measure, 
 I was roused from my fitful slumber by an unen- 
 durable, pestilential odor. 
 
 " What is that? " 
 
 The wagon turned a corner and the cause was 
 apparent. 
 
 By the clear light of the moon there rose a high,, 
 white wall, probably that of a churchyard. It had 
 served as a breastwork and at its base lay piled up 
 countless corpses. The odor of corruption which 
 rose from these bodies had aroused us all. As we 
 drove by swarms of ravens and crows arose croak- 
 ing from the pile, fluttered about, and again settled 
 down upon their feast. 
 
 " Frederick, my Frederick!" 
 
 " Be still, Baroness Martha," said the Doctor 
 sharply. "Your husband could not be among 
 them." 
 
 Why not? The husbands of other women were 
 there. 
 
 The soldier who was driving whipped up his 
 horses to escape the sickening odor. The wagon 
 creaked and rocked as if we were in wildest flight. 
 I thought the horses were running away. With 
 fright I held on with both hands to Bresser's arm, 
 
' ' GRO UND ARMS I" 167 
 
 but I could not help turning my head to see that 
 dreadful wall and — was it the deceptive light of the 
 moon, was it the motion of the wings of the carrion 
 birds? It seemed to me as if all these bodies 
 stretched their arms, as if they raised themselves 
 to follow us. 
 
 I would have shrieked, but terror held my throat 
 as in a vice. 
 
 We again turned a corner. 
 
 " Here we are, this is Horonewos," I heard the 
 Doctor say. 
 
 " What shall we do with the woman? " com- 
 plained Frau Simon. " She will be more of a bur- 
 den than a help." 
 
 I roused myself. 
 
 " No, no," I begged, " I am better now. I will 
 help all I can." 
 
 In the middle of the village we found ourselves 
 at the door of an old castle. 
 
 " We will see here first what we have to do," said 
 the Doctor. " The building, now abandoned by its 
 owner, is said to be filled from cellar to attic? " 
 
 We got out of the wagon. I could scarcely stand, 
 but made the greatest exertions to prevent this 
 being observed. 
 
 "Forward!" said Frau Simon. "Have we all of 
 our bundles? What I carry will bring comfort to 
 these poor fellows." 
 
 " And in my bag I have bandages and liquors," 
 I answered. 
 
 "And my bag contains instruments and medi- 
 cines," added Bresser, who then ordered two of the 
 soldiers to accompany us and the other two to 
 remain with the horses. 
 
 Loaded down with our satchels of bandages, 
 medicine, and wines, we entered the great door. 
 Low sighs and groans were heard on all sides. 
 
 "Light! Give us a light," cried Frau Simon. 
 
 Alas! we had brought much, but not the most 
 necessary thing. There was not a possibility of 
 penetrating the darkness. A small box of matches 
 
168 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 which the Doctor chanced to have in his pocket 
 served for a few seconds to show us the scene of 
 misery which filled the hall we had entered. The 
 foot slid along the floor slippery with blood. What 
 was to be done? 
 
 " I will hunt up the house of the village priest," 
 said Frau Simon. " Come, Doctor, to the door with 
 your matches. Frau Martha, you stay here until 
 he returns." 
 
 I shuddered in every limb. Stay here in this 
 terrible stench, surrounded by these groaning men! 
 
 " No," said the Doctor, " come with us. You can 
 not stay in this purgatorial fire." 
 
 Thankfully I seized his arm. Alas! I was the 
 average woman, helpful and faithful in the ordi- 
 nary walks of life, but in unusual emergencies un- 
 fit to cope with circumstances. As we made our 
 way back I repeatedly called " Frederick," but 
 there was no response. I climbed into the wagon 
 at the door to wait for the return of the Doctor and 
 Frau Simon. Two soldiers stood near me, the others 
 accompanied the Doctor. In a short time they 
 returned from the unsuccessful expedition. They 
 had found the pastor's house in ruins and nowhere 
 was a light to be had; there was nothing to do 
 but to await the morning. How many of the un- 
 happy wretches, in whose hearts hope had been 
 awakened by our coming, would die before the 
 light of day? 
 
 Morning dawned. Now to work. Frau Simon 
 and Doctor Bresser went about to hunt up the in- 
 habitants of the village. They succeeded in find- 
 ing a few frightened peasants hid among the ruins 
 of their former homes. At first they were obsti- 
 nate and suspicious. A little earnest talk in their 
 own dialect from Doctor Bresser, and a few sym- 
 pathetic words in the soft voice of Frau Simon 
 reassured them. They disappeared and brought 
 others, who at once went to work assisting in the 
 manifold duties before us all. Some buried the 
 dead, others cleared out the choked-up springs in 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 169 
 
 order that an abundance of water might be ob- 
 tained; mess chests and knapsacks were collected 
 to furnish table ware and clothing; a Prussian sur- 
 geon with a staff of assistants arrived, and before 
 long marked progress was made in relieving the 
 general distress. 
 
 Frau Simon joined the Prussian surgeon at the 
 castle where the majority of the wounded were 
 lying. Doctor Bresser undertook to visit other 
 localities in the village and I joined him to pursue 
 my search. The Doctor had discovered that Fred- 
 erick was not at the castle. 
 
 We had scarce gone a hundred rods when a loud 
 cry of distress fell upon our ears. We pressed for- 
 ward into the open door of the little church from 
 which the sound seemed to come. About a hun- 
 dred men lay upon the hard stone pavement — 
 severely wounded and mangled. With feverish and 
 wandering eyes they cried and begged for water. 
 Almost fainting with terror I sought through the 
 rows for Frederick — he was not there. Bresser 
 and his attendants went to work among them; I 
 leaned on a side altar and looked with inexpressible 
 horror upon this scene of suffering. 
 
 And this was the temple of the God of eternal 
 Love, these were the wonder-working saints whose 
 images around the walls and in the niches piously 
 folded their hands and lifted their heads under 
 their halo of glory? 
 
 " O Mother of God, dear Mother of God, a drop 
 of water! Have mercy!" I heard a poor soldier cry. 
 He might have vainly called upon the painted im- 
 age to all eternity. O miserable men, until you 
 obey the law of love which God has stamped upon 
 your hearts, you vainly petition for the love of God. 
 So long as cruelty among you is unsubdued, you 
 have little to hope from Heaven's compassion. 
 
 What did I not experience through that dreadful 
 day! 
 
 Do not repeat it; that would certainly be the 
 
170 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 pleasantest and simplest way. We shut our eyes 
 and turn away our heads when things unpleasant or 
 harassing are in view; it is convenient also to lock 
 the door upon memory. And we cry: "How can 
 we help it; how can we amend the past; why tor- 
 ment ourselves and others with the repetition of 
 the horrible." 
 
 Why? I will tell you later. This much I say, I 
 must say now; it is drawn, not from my own ex- 
 perience alone, but from that of Doctor Bresser, 
 Frau Simon, and the Saxon surgeon-in-chief. Doc- 
 tor Naundorff. Compare my story with a recent 
 and most touching report called " Under the Red 
 Cross." 
 
 As in Horonewos, so in many other neighboring 
 localities Hell had held high carnival. In Pardu- 
 bitz, first occupied by the Prussians, " there were 
 over a thousand wounded men with amputated 
 limbs, or otherwise suffering from the experiments 
 of desperate science, the last chance for life, in 
 unusual cases, being risked on a surgical venture. 
 Nature's rough nursing was all they had; some 
 were dying, some already dead, some lying next 
 the dead and envying their release. Many with 
 no covering save a bloody shirt, so that it was 
 impossible, through lack of uniform, to tell from 
 what part of Germany they came. All who had a 
 spark of intelligence left begged piteously for 
 water and for bread, writhing under the agony of 
 their wounds, and imploring Heaven for the release 
 of death." 
 
 " Rossnitz," wrote Doctor Bresser afterwards, 
 " Rossnitz is the place which will be stamped upon 
 my memory until my dying hour. I was sent there 
 the sixth day after the battle, and there found the 
 greatest physical misery possible for the human 
 imagination to picture. I found our R. with six 
 hundred and fifty wounded, surrounded by the 
 dead and dying, who had lain all these days, with- 
 out succor, in the most miserable, most filthy stables 
 and cattle pens. It was here that after burying 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 171 
 
 Lieut.-Col. F I was so overwhelmed with the 
 
 hopeless magnitude of the suffering, that for an hour 
 I shed the bitterest tears. Although as a surgeon 
 I was accustomed to witness the extreme of human 
 misery, and in the practice of my profession had 
 learned to exercise self-control, in this place it re- 
 quired all my manhood to recover self-possession." 
 
 " It is impossible," wrote Doctor Naundorff, " to 
 picture truthfully the condition of these six hun- 
 dred men. The undressed, open wounds were tor- 
 mented by swarms of files; the delirious patients 
 vainly pled for water, bread, and help, their cloth- 
 ing saturated with blood and stiff with the corrup- 
 tion of mangled flesh, covered in many cases with 
 living worms generated in this decay. A terrible 
 stench filled every place. All these soldiers lay 
 upon the bare ground, with the exception of a very 
 few who had secured a little straw upon which to 
 stretch their wretched bodies. Under some the 
 filthy soil was so soft that they had sunk in it and 
 were unable to raise themselves." 
 
 "In Masloved," Frau Simon tells us, "eight days 
 after the battle, we found seven hundred wounded 
 men. The hopelessness of their condition as well- 
 as their suffering cried to Heaven. In one stable 
 there were sixty crowded together. The character 
 of their injuries was desperate under the best cir- 
 cumstances: here, from lack of every surgical atten- 
 tion, and with no other care, their condition had 
 become hopeless; among all gangreen had set in. 
 Shattered limbs had become a mass of corruption; 
 swollen faces, covered with dirt or encrusted with 
 blood, seemed to have but one black opening to 
 indicate the mouth from which issued ceaseless 
 groans. There had been no one to remove the 
 dead bodies, and we hesitated as to which were the 
 living and which the dead. It is astonishing what 
 human nature can endure." 
 
 What is more marvelous to my notion is that 
 human beings will subject themselves to such pos- 
 sibility of agony; that men will not swear before 
 
172 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 high heaven that war shall not be; if they are 
 princes, that they do not break their swords; if 
 they have no other power, that they do not de- 
 vote themselves by thought and word, by writing, 
 by preaching, and by acting to one common cry: 
 "Ground Arms!" 
 
 Frau Simon was a heroine, the "Hospital Mother," 
 they called her. Through her efforts and her wise 
 superintendence hundreds were saved. One mo- 
 ment she performed the humblest service, the next 
 she was superintending the transportation of sup- 
 plies. She hastened from one place to another and 
 overcame, by her tremendous energy, the most dis- 
 couraging obstacles. 
 
 And I ? Terror-stricken, despairing, overcome 
 with anxiety and repulsion, I fainted on the steps 
 of the altar of the little church we had entered, 
 and when I again fully realized my situation, I 
 found myself in a railway car, surrounded by num- 
 bers of slightly wounded officers, and seated by 
 Doctor Bresser. We were on our way to Vienna 
 leaving Frau Simon delighted to be rid of me. I 
 had not found Frederick, and I had not abandoned 
 hope. I might find some news of him at home. 
 
 But the gigantic misery I had witnessed had 
 sunk so deep into my heart that it seemed to me 
 I could never recover from it. Even if I found 
 Frederick, and a long future of happiness and love 
 was granted us, I could never forget that so many 
 of my poor human brothers and sisters had borne 
 such indescribable agony. 
 
 I slept during nearly the whole journey. Doctor 
 Bresser had given me a light narcotic in order that 
 a long and sound sleep might quiet my nerves. 
 
 When we arrived at Vienna I found my father 
 waiting for me. He embraced me silently and 
 then turned to Doctor Bresser. 
 
 " How shall I thank you? If you had not taken 
 this crazy woman under your protection " 
 
 But the Doctor hastily shook hands. 
 
"GROUND ARMSI" 173 
 
 " I cannot stop. The young woman needs care; 
 no complaints, no reproofs; put her to bed, give 
 her orange-flower water, rest — good-by." 
 
 " Have you heard from Frederick ?" came to my 
 lips, but I had not the courage to utter the words. 
 At last hope desperately mastered fear. 
 
 " Up to last night not a word," he replied. " But 
 possibly we may find news at home. I left there 
 last night, as soon as Doctor Bresser's despatch 
 came. How anxious you have made us, you silly 
 thing. To venture upon the battlefield in the neigh- 
 borhood of the enemy — those fellows are savages. 
 They have become insane about their needle guns. 
 They are not disciplined soldiers either, and all 
 manner of outrages are to be expected from them. 
 And you, a woman, must run right into the midst 
 of them. Well, well, the Doctor said I must not 
 scold " 
 
 " How is Rudolph? " 
 
 " He cries and howls because he cannot find you 
 in the house; he will not believe you have gone 
 away, because you did not kiss him good-by. Why 
 do you not ask after the others — Lilli, Rosa, Otto, 
 Aunt Marie? You act so strangely indifferent." 
 
 " How are they all? Has Conrad written?" 
 
 " All are well. A letter came from Conrad yes- 
 terday, and Lilli is happy. You will see Tilling will 
 come out sound and well. Unfortunately there is 
 nothing good to report in the political horizon. 
 You have heard of the great disaster? " 
 
 "I have heard nothing, I have seen nothing but 
 disaster and misery." 
 
 "Our beautiful Venice is handed over on a plate 
 to Louis Napoleon, and that after such a brilliant 
 victory as we won at Custozza. Instead of recov- 
 ering Lombardy we have given up Venice. By this 
 arrangement we have peace in the south, have got 
 Louis Napoleon on our side, and can revenge our- 
 selves for Sadowa, drive the Prussians out of the 
 country, pursue them and conquer Silesia. Bene- 
 dek has made dreadful mistakes, but the command 
 
174 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 is turned over to the glorious general of the army 
 of the south. Why do you not answer? Well, I 
 will obey Bresser's order and leave you alone in 
 peace." 
 
 After a two-hour's drive we arrived at Grumitz. 
 
 My two sisters rushed to meet us as the carriage 
 stopped. 
 
 " Martha, Martha," they cried, " he is here." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Frederick." 
 
 Yes, it was true. He had arrived the evening 
 before. A bullet had gone through his leg inca- 
 pacitating him at once. He had been carried from 
 the field to the nearest station, and as soon as pos- 
 sible had been sent to Vienna. 
 
 But even joy is hard to bear. The report that 
 Frederick was there had the same effect as the ter- 
 rors of the preceding day — it robbed me of my 
 senses. I was carried from the carriage and put to 
 bed. Here, thanks to the after effects of the nar- 
 cotic, or to the shock of relief caused by joy, I 
 spent several hours, half sleeping, in half delirious 
 unconsciousness. When I awoke and looked about 
 me, I believed that I had wakened from some awful 
 dream and that I had never left Grumitz. The 
 letter from Bresser, my determination to go to 
 Bohemia, my experiences there, the journey back, 
 the report of Frederick's return — all seemed but a 
 dream. 
 
 I looked up. At the foot of the bed stood my 
 maid. " Is my bath ready?" I asked, " I would like 
 to get up." 
 
 Aunt Marie started up from a corner of the room. 
 
 " Ah, Martha, my treasure, are you really awake 
 and in your senses. Thank God! Yes, yes, get 
 up; yes, yes, take your bath, it will do you good, 
 covered as you are with dust and dirt from the 
 cars " 
 
 "Dust from the cars — what do you mean?" 
 
 " Quick, get up. Netti, get everything ready. 
 Frederick is dying of impatience to see you." 
 
"GROUND ARMS I" 175 
 
 " Frederick, my Frederick! " 
 
 How often during the preceding days I had 
 with agony called this name, but now it was a cry 
 of joy. It was not a dream; I had returned and 
 should see my husband. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later I went to him. Alone 
 — I had begged that no one should follow me. I 
 wished no one to witness our meeting. 
 
 " Frederick! " " Martha! " I sunk upon his bed 
 and sobbed upon his breast. 
 
 This was the second time in my life that my 
 husband had returned to me in safety, for his 
 wound was not of a dangerous character. What 
 was I that I had reached the shore of happiness, 
 when so many thousands had sunk beneath the 
 waves of this flood of misery. 
 
 Happy are they who in such a case can lift a 
 glance to heaven and express their deep gratitude 
 to the Almighty Guide; through such thankful- 
 ness, when humbly uttered and humbly felt, but 
 which they do not realize to be founded in pre- 
 sumption and self-conceit, they feel that they are 
 absolved, and that for this peculiar advantage, 
 which they call special grace and favor of Provi- 
 dence, they have, according to their standard, bal- 
 anced their account with Heaven. This was not 
 possible to me. When I thought of the misery 
 which I had seen, and of the despairing wives and 
 mothers whose husbands and sons, by the same 
 fate which favored me, had been plunged into the 
 abyss of torment and destruction, it became to me 
 impossible to accept my happy lot as a decree of 
 Providence for which my thanks were due. I re- 
 membered how I had one day seen our housekeeper 
 sweep out a closet where swarms of ants had con- 
 gregated; fate had in just such a fashion swept 
 over the Bohemian battlefields, and the poor in- 
 dustrious workers had been as mercilessly crushed, 
 scattered, and destroyed. Only a small remnant 
 remained unhurt. Would it have been reasonable 
 and just if those few ants had sent up their prayers 
 of gratitude to Frau Walter? 
 
176 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 No; however great the joy of re-union, this could 
 not drive from my heart the sorrow and sufferings 
 I had seen. I had an account to settle with the 
 world. I had not been able to do efficient service 
 like the Sisters of Mercy or Frau Simon. But the 
 compassion which springs from inmost sympathy 
 I felt for all these, my fellow men, and I dared not 
 forget them in egotistical self -enjoyment. 
 
 " O Frederick, Frederick!" I exclaimed one day 
 with tears and kisses, " have I really found you 
 again? " 
 
 "And you rushed out to find and nurse me, 
 Martha? That was heroic and — foolish." 
 
 " Foolish — I know it. I imagined I heard your 
 voice calling me; I had a presentiment, which was 
 imagination and superstition, that you were lost 
 to me. But heroic — no. If you only knew how 
 cowardly I was in the presence of all that misery. 
 You I could have nursed, only you. Oh, our beau- 
 tiful world! how can man make it so terrible? A 
 world in which two human beings can love each 
 other as you and I love, in which such fiery happi- 
 ness as ours can blaze — how can one be so mad 
 as to light the flame of death and misery-laden 
 hate?" 
 
 " I have seen things horrible enough, Martha — 
 something I shall never forget. One day, whom do 
 you think I saw spring upon me with uplifted 
 saber, during a cavalry engagement at Sadowa? 
 Gottfried von Tessow." 
 
 "Aunt Cornelia's son?" 
 
 "Yes; he recognized me in time and dropped 
 his sword." 
 
 "Which he was not justified in doing. What! 
 spare an enemy of king and country, under the 
 unworthy pretense that he was a dear friend and 
 cousin! " 
 
 "The poor young fellow! He had scarcely 
 dropped his arm when a saber fell on his own 
 head. It was done by my neighbor, a young lieu- 
 
"GROUND ARMSr 177 
 
 tenant, who saw his colonel in danger and wanted 
 to save him." 
 
 Frederick covered his face with his hands. 
 
 "Killed?" I asked shuddering. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "Mamma, Mamma!" came from the adjoining 
 room, and the door was thrown open. It was my 
 little Rudolph with Lilli. 
 
 I hurried to meet the child and clasped him 
 passionately to my heart. " Ah, poor, poor Aunt 
 Cornelia!" 
 
 The war was drawing to a close. The abandon- 
 ment of Austria's claim to Venice ended the con- 
 flict with Italy and France, and we were in a posi- 
 tion to make favorable terms with Prussia. Our 
 emperor was anxious to end the unhappy campaign 
 before subjecting his capital to a siege. The Prus- 
 sian victories in other parts of Germany, as well as 
 the triumphant entry into Frankfurt on the six- 
 teenth of July, lent the enemy a certain nimbus, 
 which like all success excited the admiration of 
 Austria and imbued the popular mind with a belief 
 that Prussia must have a certain historical mis- 
 sion, to be accomplished only through the recent 
 victories. " Truce " and " peace " were words fre- 
 quently uttered, and we could as securely count 
 upon their realization as in times when war is 
 threatened we can depend upon its outbreak. Even 
 my father acknowledged that under existing cir- 
 cumstances peace was desirable. The army was 
 exhausted, the superiority of the needle gun recog- 
 nized, and a march of the enemy upon Vienna — the 
 destruction of Grumitz upon the way being prob- 
 able — all were events which even his martial mind 
 could not contemplate with equanimity. His con- 
 fidence in the invincibility of the Austrian troops 
 had been rudely shaken, and as it is a peculiarity 
 of human nature to regard current events as being 
 alternative in character — that is, that success fol- 
 lows success, misfortune again succeeds misfortune 
 
178 "GROUND ARMSl" 
 
 — it was better to halt during the unlucky period. 
 With time we might obtain compensation, and prob- 
 ably, also, the opportunity for revenge. 
 
 Revenge, and again revenge! Every war must 
 leave one side vanquished, and if the defeated seek 
 for satisfaction through another war, and those who 
 lose struggle again through another, where will it 
 end? How can justice be attained, when, in the 
 expiation of an old wrong, another wrong is to be 
 committed? No reasonable creature would con- 
 ceive of the idea of obliterating ink stains with ink, 
 or spots of oil with oil. Only blood must be washed 
 out with blood. 
 
 The prevailing sentiment in Grumitz was of the 
 gloomiest character. In the village the inhabit- 
 ants buried or hid away their valuables, under the 
 impression that the Prussians were approaching; 
 even at the castle Aunt Marie and Frau Walter 
 had secreted the family silver. We read nothing, 
 we talked of nothing save the war and our own 
 experiences. Lilli suffered the most intense anxi- 
 ety in regard to Conrad, of whom she had heard 
 nothing for days. My brother Otto had been 
 charmed by the report from his military academy, 
 that in the event of the prolongation of war the 
 Senior and Junior classes might be called into serv- 
 ice. Like the boarding-school miss looking for- 
 ward to her introduction to society, he longed for 
 his gay uniform and the great cannon cotillion. I 
 had ceased by Frederick's advice my incessant at- 
 tacks upon the principle of war, as its discussion 
 caused unpleasant feeling. But we were both de- 
 cided that at the announcement of peace, Frederick 
 should send in his resignation, and I inwardly 
 determined that under no circumstances should 
 my son Rudolph be educated at any school where 
 the whole bent of education was to awake in youth 
 the desire for military glory. I examined Otto as 
 to the method which was employed to this end. 
 The boys were taught that war is a necessary evil 
 (at least an evil — in that an acknowledgment of 
 
"GROUND ARM SI" 179 
 
 the spirit of the age), but at the same time the 
 supreme incentive to the noblest manly virtues, 
 which are courage, endurance, and self-sacrifice; 
 through it the greatest earthly glory can be ob- 
 tained; and, lastly, it is the most important factor 
 in the progress of civilization. The mighty con- 
 querors and founders of the so-called empires of 
 the world, as Alexander, Caesar, Napoleon, were 
 commended as the most notable examples of 
 human greatness; the benefits and successes of war 
 were set forth in most laudatory fashion, while the 
 evils resulting therefrom were piously ignored — 
 such as the moral and physical degeneration, the 
 poverty and the barbarism. Yes, it was the same 
 system as that pursued in my education as a girl, 
 and which then filled me with enthusiasm for war. 
 Could I blame a boy that the possibility of being 
 ordered into the field filled him with delight and 
 impatience? 
 
 So I made no comment when one day Otto com- 
 plained of the present inaction. I held a paper in 
 my hand from which I had been reading. 
 
 " Here is a letter from a surgeon who accom- 
 panied the retreat of our army; shall I read it?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "The retreat?" cried Otto; "I had rather not 
 hear it. If it were the story of the retreat of the 
 enemy, it would be a different thing." 
 
 " It is an episode of war that we are accustomed 
 to pass over in silence," remarked Frederick. 
 
 "A well ordered retreat is not a flight," my father 
 hastily added. " Why, in '49 " 
 
 But I knew the story of '49 and headed it off by 
 beginning to read: 
 
 •• About four o'clock our troops began to retire. We 
 surgeons were absorbed in the care of the wounded — 
 numbering several hundred — who were each patiently 
 waiting their turn. Suddenly the cavalry sprang upon us 
 from all sides, rushing over the hill and across the field, 
 and at the same moment the artillery and baggage-wagons 
 joined in the flight, all making their way toward Konig- 
 gratz. In the mad rush many of the cavalry stumbled. 
 
180 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 and those riders who fell were crushed under the feet of 
 the horses. Wagons were overturned, and obstructed the 
 way of the crowds of disordered infantry. We were swept 
 from our temporary field of work. We were told, at the 
 first onslaught, to look out for ourselves; but the warning 
 was drowned by the roar of cannon and the bursting of 
 shells right in our midst. We were carried forward by the 
 surging mass without knowing where. Suddenly we came 
 to water ; to the right was a railway embankment, to the 
 left a ravine filled with wagons and ambulances; behind, 
 as far as the eye could reach, were the ranks of cavalry. 
 We waded through the water, and a moment later were 
 ordered to cut the traces and abandon the wagons, sav- 
 ing the horses, but leaving the wounded to their fate. 
 We on foot were on the verge of despair; we crossed 
 other streams with the expectation of being ridden down 
 and drowned at any moment. Finally we reached a rail- 
 way station which we found barricaded. We broke 
 through the barricade, and with thousands of infantry- 
 men we hurried on in the wildest panic. At last, at one 
 o'clock at night, we reached a little wood, where we sank 
 on the ground at the verge of utter exhaustion. At three, 
 wet and cold, we pressed forward, leaving a portion of 
 our number to die without possibility of rescue. The 
 villages were abandoned, not a human being was left in 
 them ; there was no food, no water; the air was loaded 
 with pestilential odors from decaying corpses lying on 
 the trampled wheatfields — bodies with blackened faces, 
 eyes protruding from the sockets " 
 
 "Enough, enough!" cried the two girls. 
 
 " The censor of the press should not allow the 
 publication of such stuff," exclaimed my father 
 angrily. " It takes away all pride in the profes- 
 sion of arms." 
 
 "And especially all joy in war itself! That is 
 really a pity," I murmured half-aloud. 
 
 " In fact, those who take part in a flight should 
 have enough self-respect to keep quiet about it," 
 scolded my father, " for it is certainly no honor to 
 join in a general 'save who can.' The rascal who 
 cries, 'Look out for yourself,' gives the first signal for 
 a rout and ought to be shot. A coward yells and 
 thousands of brave men become demoralized and 
 run with him." 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 181 
 
 "Exactly so," responded Frederick; "just as 
 when a brave fellow shouts, 'Forward!' a thousand 
 cowards sweep after him and for the moment are 
 actually inspired with courage. You cannot clas- 
 sify men arbitrarily as courageous or cowardly; 
 every one of them has his moments of more or less 
 courage, of more or less cowardice. Among masses 
 of men each one is in a measure dependent upon 
 the state of mind of his fellows. We are creatures 
 who herd together and are ruled by the feelings of 
 the herd. One shouts, ' Hurrah! ' and all the others 
 follow suit; one man throws down his rifle to run, 
 others imitate his example. We applaud the brave 
 fellow who shouts, 'Hurrah!' and then preserve 
 silence about the one who runs; they are one and 
 the same man. Courage and cowardice are not to 
 be considered personal attributes, but as condi- 
 tions of nature, just as joy and sorrow mark two 
 phases of sensibility. During my first campaign 
 I was drawn into the confusion of just such a wild, 
 unreasoning flight. In the official reports the affair 
 appears as a well-ordered retreat, but it was in 
 truth a complete rout. Guns, knapsacks, cloaks, 
 side arms — everything was thrown away in the 
 wildest confusion by a raging, rolling, insane mass; 
 not a word of command could be heard, and the 
 battalions, driven by despair, tore along pursued by 
 the equally maddened enemy. Of all the horrible 
 phases of war, this is the worst — it has the most of 
 beastliness about it. No longer as gallant soldiers, 
 but as huntsmen and prey, both sides assume these 
 most barbaric of r$les. All the elements of the 
 savage hunter are developed in the pursuer, all the 
 delirium of terror of the hunted wild beast are 
 seen in the pursued. Patriotism, ambition, thirst 
 for glory, all are lost in the most powerful impulse 
 which can possess the living animal, the instinct of 
 self-preservation." 
 
 Frederick improved rapidly. The feverish outer 
 world also seemed to be in a sounder condition; 
 daily we heard more and more of peace. The ad- 
 
183 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 vance corps of the Prussians, which no longer found 
 any obstacle on their route, and which slowly and 
 surely approached Vienna, had passed through 
 Briinn — whose keys had been handed over to King 
 William by the civil authorities. This march as- 
 sumed more the air of a military promenade than 
 an offensive campaign, and on the twenty-sixth 
 of July a truce was announced, and the prelim- 
 inaries of peace were announced at Nikolsburg. 
 
 The only comfort my father found in the general 
 disaster was the report of Admiral Tegethoff's vic- 
 tory at Lissa. Italian vessels were blown into the 
 air, the "Affundatore " was destroyed; what a satis- 
 faction! I could not join in the general rejoicing. 
 Neither could I understand the necessity for this 
 naval engagement, as Venice had already been sur- 
 rendered. But there was a great clamor of joy in 
 the Vienna press. The, glory of a martial victory 
 has through the traditions of centuries been exalted 
 to such magnitude that intense national pride is 
 roused by it. If in any case a general, commanding 
 our own countrymen, defeats another general at 
 the head of the enemy, all our fellow- citizens con- 
 gratulate one another, and as each one rejoices the 
 community at large take fire — the herd sentiment, 
 as Frederick would say. 
 
 Another political event of those days was that 
 Austria joined the Geneva alliance of the Red 
 Cross. 
 
 " Now, are you satisfied? " asked my father as he 
 read the news aloud. " Do you not see that war, 
 which you insist is barbarism, with advancing civ- 
 ilization becomes more humane. I am in favor of 
 all these humane efforts for the relief of the 
 wounded; even from the standpoint of the states- 
 man it is wiser. By greater care of the wounded 
 and sick, more men are able to return speedily to 
 the field." 
 
 " You are right. Papa, as useful material for 
 future wars. But the things which I have seen no 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 185 
 
 Red Cross Legion can do more than alleviate. 
 Were they ten times the number, with a hundred 
 times the means, they could not parry the misery 
 which one battle calls into being." 
 
 Day by day it became a fixed idea with me that 
 war must cease, that every human being should do 
 what he could to educate mankind to the attain- 
 ment of this end. It was impossible to rid myself 
 of the scenes I had witnessed in Bohemia. Partic- 
 ularly in the stillness of night, I would wake with 
 this anguish oppressing my heart and this feeling 
 of duty pricking my conscience. 
 
 Only when I was entirely awake did I begin to 
 realize my own incapacity to stem the tide. I 
 could as easily still the tides and hush the roar of 
 the tempest-tossed waters. But we must not en- 
 dure it! It must be stamped out! And my second 
 thought was — especially when I heard the sound of 
 his even breathing — " But I am happy; Frederick is 
 my own again," and I lost myself in this assurance, 
 often laying my arm across his breast and softly 
 kissing him on the lips. 
 
 My son Rudolph was justified in being intensely 
 jealous of his stepfather. This sentiment had been 
 awakened about this time in the breast of the 
 affectionate child. That I had left Grumitz without 
 any leave-taking, and that upon my return he was 
 not the first to embrace me — that in fact I shut my- 
 self up the entire day with my husband — all this 
 together had deeply wounded him. One morning 
 he threw himself into my arms exclaiming: 
 
 " Mamma, Mamma, you do not love me any 
 more! " 
 
 "What nonsense, my child; what do you mean?" 
 
 " Yes — now — only Papa. I — will not — will not 
 grow up if you do not love me any more " 
 
 "Not love you any more? You, my jewel! " I 
 petted and kissed the weeping child. " You, my 
 only son, my pride, the hope of my future! I love 
 you more — no, not above everyone, but devotedly." 
 
 After this occurrence my love for my child was 
 
184 ''GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 more often demonstrated to his satisfaction. In 
 the terror of my anxiety for Frederick I had in 
 truth allowed the child's interest to retreat to the 
 background. 
 
 We had well considered our plans for the future. 
 At the close of the war Frederick was to resign, 
 and we would retire to some small country place 
 where his pension and my allowance would enable 
 us to live in a simple way. Frederick determined 
 to take up the study of international law, and aside 
 from sentimental theories and Utopian ideas, to 
 master from the practical standpoint the question 
 of the possibility of attaining the universal peace 
 of nations. 
 
 The work of Buckle had first suggested a new 
 field of ideas. Then an acquaintance, through 
 such writers as Darwin and Biichner, with the 
 latest scientific theories, had convinced him that 
 the world stood on the threshold of a new phase 
 of knowledge. To master this fresh view of life 
 and matter he deemed enough to fill out not un- 
 worthily, when added to the happiness of his home, 
 the remainder of his life. Our little Rudolph was 
 not shut out from our plans; in truth, to educate 
 this plastic mind was to become the main duty of 
 our lives. We had learned through recent events 
 how sympathetically we regarded the interests of 
 the world at large, and we rejoiced over the pros- 
 pect of our united future like any pair of youthful 
 lovers. 
 
 In the meantime my father, to whom we had 
 not confided our plans, expressed himself one day 
 quite differently. 
 
 " You will be a young colonel. Tilling, and in 
 ten years you will certainly be a general. Before 
 that time another war will break out and you may 
 command an army corps or — who knows? — reach 
 the rank of general-in-chief. Perhaps you may 
 have the fortune to restore the ancient splendor 
 of Austria's fame, now for the moment tarnished. 
 When we have adopted the needle gun, or perhaps 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 185 
 
 introduced a still more effective weapon, Prussia 
 must lower her colors." 
 
 "Who knows?" I suggested, "we may close an 
 alliance with Prussia." 
 
 My father shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " If women would only let politics alone! " he 
 said contemptuously. "Our honor and the inter- 
 ests of Europe demand that we should humble 
 these braggarts and help those recently annexed 
 states to attain their old independence. Friend- 
 ship! alliance with these wanton offenders! Never, 
 unless they humbly petition for it." 
 
 " In which case," replied Frederick, "we would 
 set foot upon their necks. Alliances are concluded 
 only with those of whom we are afraid, or when 
 we want to humble a common foe. In statecraft, 
 egoism is the main principle." 
 
 "Well, yes," my father acknowledged; "when 
 the ego represents our country, all other interests 
 must be subordinated to it." 
 
 "We can but wish," replied Frederick, "that in 
 the consideration of the common weal the same 
 spirit might prevail which, in the habits of the 
 refined, has taken the place of the rude club-law 
 egoism of the individual. We might hope that the 
 idea might replace it, that our own interests are 
 advanced not in antagonisms, but in a union with 
 the interests of others." 
 
 " What's that? " said my father, with his hand on 
 his ear. 
 
 Frederick had no courage to repeat his long sen- 
 tence, and the discussion came to an end. 
 
 I will be in Grumitz at one o'clock to-morrow. 
 
 Conrad. 
 
 The welcome which this despatch received from 
 Lilli can be imagined. No other guest is received 
 with such gracious and loving welcome as he who 
 returns from war. In this case certainly it would 
 not be in the style which confronts us in ballads 
 and engravings entitled, "The return of the vie- 
 
186 "GRO UND ARMS! " 
 
 tors." The natural sentiment of the affectionate 
 girl was not biased by patriotism, and Conrad's 
 greeting would not have been warmer had he per- 
 sonally captured Berlin. 
 
 Naturally he would have preferred to return home 
 with victorious troops, if he had aided in conquer- 
 ing Silesia for his emperor; but to have fought at 
 all is an honor for a soldier, even though he is the 
 vanquished — or may be numbered among the fallen, 
 for the latter fate is particularly glorious. Otto 
 said that in the Vienna Academy the names of all 
 graduates who have been so fortunate as to remain 
 upon the field are inscribed upon a roll of honor. 
 Tu/ h I'ennemi, as they say in France, was in the 
 time of our ancestors, and is even at the present day, 
 especially praiseworthy. The greater the number 
 of our forefathers who fell in battle — no matter 
 whether the cause was won or lost — the prouder 
 becomes their descendant; the more honorable their 
 record in this respect, the less value should their 
 living representative place upon his own life. To 
 prove oneself worthy of ancestors thus killed one 
 must both actively and passively rejoice in this spe- 
 cies of massacre itself. 
 
 Well, so much the better, that so long as wars 
 endure those people should be forthcoming who 
 actually find in it matter for emulation, inspiration, 
 even for enjoyment. The number of this class will 
 grow daily less and less, while the number of sol- 
 diers continually increases. To what must this 
 finally lead? The situation will simply become in- 
 tolerable. 
 
 And to what will this intolerable condition lead? 
 
 Conrad did not pursue the idea thus far. His 
 comprehension of the matter was quite in harmony 
 with the well-known song of the lieutenant in the 
 "White Lady": " Ha! what joy to be a soldier, ha! 
 what joy!" To listen to him was enough to make 
 one fairly envy him the delight of the expedition. 
 My brother Otto was completely absorbed in admi- 
 ration of the heroic halo encircling this warrior. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 187 
 
 Baptized in blood and fire (he was always a sol- 
 dierly figure in his hussar uniform), and having 
 passed through a rain of bullets, and doubtless hav- 
 ing laid many an adversary low, he was especially 
 adorable, particularly with the addition of his hon- 
 orable scar across the chin. 
 
 "It was not a very fortunate campaign, I will 
 admit," said Conrad, "but I brought back a few 
 memorable experiences." 
 
 " Tell us about it ! " cried Lilli and Otto. 
 
 " I cannot say much about particular incidents, 
 the whole lies behind me in wild confusion. The 
 powder fairly mounts into your head. In truth, 
 this intoxication, or this fever — this martial fire, 
 in a word — begins with the order to march. The 
 parting from your sweetheart is hard — softens the 
 heart a bit — but when you are once on the march, 
 surrounded by your comrades, you are filled with 
 the idea of the highest duty which life can demand 
 of man, the defense of your native land. When 
 the bands played the " Radetzky March," and the 
 silken folds of our flags fluttered in the breeze, I 
 would not have turned back even to the arms of 
 my sweetheart. I felt as if I were not worthy of 
 this love if I did not do my duty by the side of my 
 brothers. That we were marching to victory I did 
 not doubt. What did we know of those horrible 
 needle guns! They alone were the cause of our 
 defeat. I tell you, the bullets fell upon our ranks 
 like hail. And we suffered from bad generalship; 
 you will see they will court-martial Benedek yet. 
 We ought to have begun the attack. If I had been 
 Field-marshal my tactics would have been to attack, 
 drive, and attack, and fall upon the country of the 
 enemy. Defense is of course an art and a difficult 
 one. But as the Emperor did not appoint me to 
 the command, I am innocent of the failure of the 
 tacticians. The generals have to settle it with 
 their superiors and their conscience. We subor- 
 dinate officers and soldiers have done our duty; we 
 were ordered to fight and we have fought. That of 
 
188 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 itself is a peculiar sensation. To stand in expecta- 
 tion and suspense as to when we are to attack the 
 enemy, waiting for the order to begin; this con- 
 sciousness that in a moment a scene in the world's 
 history is to be played; and then, the pride, the 
 joy in one's own courage — death to the right and 
 left of you, the great, the mysterious unknowable, 
 which you manfully defy " 
 
 " Just like poor Gottfried Tessow," murmured 
 Frederick to me; "it is to be expected, it is the 
 same school." 
 
 Conrad continued with enthusiasm: 
 
 " The heart beats higher, the pulse rises, and then 
 comes the peculiar ecstasy, — the love of battle 
 wakes, the ferocity of hatred of the enemy, and 
 the burning love of our outraged country, — and 
 the attack and hewing down become a delight. 
 You feel as if you had been transported to another 
 world, where all the usual sentiments and feelings 
 had been metamorphosed. Life itself becomes the 
 prey; to kill, a duty. Honor, heroism, magnificent 
 self-sacrifice alone remain, all other sentiments 
 are lost in the confusion. Add to that the smoke 
 of powder, the cries of conflict, — I tell you it is a 
 situation to be compared with nothing else. The 
 nearest to it is when one is fired by the hunt of the 
 tiger or lion and faces the maddened beast." 
 
 "Yes," said Frederick. "When man was in con- 
 tinual danger from the attacks of two- and four- 
 legged enemies, and could enjoy life only through 
 their destruction, such strife was a delight. When 
 with us civilized men this same fierce joy riots in 
 our blood, it is but an inherited reminiscence. And 
 as we in Europe have now neither wild beast nor 
 barbarians, we create artificial aggressors. So we 
 say: ' Look here, you here have blue coats and you 
 on the other side, red coats.' Clap your hands three 
 times, presto! change the red coats into tigers and 
 the blue coats into wild beasts. Again, attention! 
 one, two, three. Trumpets, blow; drums, beat; now, 
 begin; eat each other up. Should there be ten thou- 
 
"GROUND ARMS I" 189 
 
 sand, possibly in these times a hundred thousand 
 of these artificial tigers devoured amidst universal 
 
 howls of combative delight, at X , then we have 
 
 in history the famous X battle. The magi- 
 cians who have clapped their hands assemble round 
 a green table in X , lay down their maps, re-ar- 
 range boundaries, pushing them here and there, 
 squabble over who shall pay the costs, sign a paper 
 
 which is known in history as the X treaty; they 
 
 clap their hands three times more and order the 
 blue and the red coats: ' Now, my children, embrace 
 as men and brothers.'" 
 
 Prussian troops were quartered in the neighbor- 
 hood, and Grumitz might any day expect the com- 
 mon fate. The greatest terror of the hated Prus- 
 sians possessed the minds of the villagers. The 
 very name of the enemy becomes in time of war 
 the synonym of everything evil, so that the people 
 trembled as if these men were wolves personified, 
 when the Prussian quartermaster rode down the 
 street to arrange quarters for his soldiers. It had 
 occasionally happened that a Prussian soldier had 
 been shot down by some hidden cowardly assailant, 
 who for this had been dragged out and summarily 
 executed. Of course, the result was that the allot- 
 ment was quietly accepted, and the unwilling hosts 
 soon discovered that these hated Prussians were 
 pretty generally a good-natured, friendly lot, who 
 punctually paid their bills. 
 
 I was sitting in the library one morning, near a 
 window which commanded a wide prospect. Look- 
 ing up suddenly, I saw in the distance a troop of 
 horse evidently coming in our direction. I seized 
 a field-glass and saw a detachment of possibly ten 
 horsemen surrounding a figure on foot in hunting 
 dress. Who could this be? some prisoner who had 
 fired upon them? There was small hope for him if 
 this was the case. 
 
 I ran down into the drawing-room to report their 
 approach to my father and aunt. The latter calmly 
 
190 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 remarked that she must see the housekeeper on 
 some final matters — they had for days anticipated 
 the arrival of the enemy, and had a well-filled lar- 
 der and numerous beds in order. 
 
 "The Prussians, the Prussians are coming," I 
 exclaimed breathlessly. We are always delighted 
 to be the first to make an important announcement. 
 
 "The devil take them," was my father's inhospi- 
 table exclamation. 
 
 "Where is Otto?" I asked. "He must know of 
 it and be warned to restrain the expression of his 
 hatred of Prussia. He must treat guests with 
 courtesy." 
 
 "Otto is not at home," answered my father, "he 
 went out early to hunt birds. You ought to have 
 seen how becoming his hunting suit is to him — he 
 is going to be a handsome fellow; I will have a 
 deal of pride in him." 
 
 In the meantime there seemed some disturbance 
 in the house; we heard excited voices and hasty 
 steps. 
 
 "They have come, the wind-bags," sighed my 
 father. 
 
 Franz, the footman, white with terror, forgetting 
 all discipline, flew into the room shouting: " The 
 Prussians!" in the same tone in which he might 
 announce that the house was on fire. 
 
 " They will not eat us up," responded my father 
 snappishly. 
 
 "But, your Excellence," gasped Franz, "they 
 have a prisoner, your son, who is said to have fired 
 on them." 
 
 My father, with an exclamation of alarm, hastily 
 left the room. In a few moments he returned with 
 Otto. It appeared that in crossing a field he had 
 stumbled over a furrow and his gun had gone off. 
 The approaching party had immediately seized 
 him, but having learned on their arrival at the castle 
 that he was the son of the house, and a cadet from 
 the military academy, they immediately released 
 him. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 191 
 
 " It would be impossible to suspect an honorable 
 soldier of intention to commit a cowardly murder," 
 they honestly remarked. 
 
 I asked Otto if he was really innocent, and won- 
 dered if his hatred of the Prussians might not have 
 carried him so far. He shook his head: 
 
 " I will have opportunity enough in my life to 
 shoot a few of them, but not without offering my 
 own breast to their bullets." 
 
 " Bravely said, my boy! " cried my father. 
 
 I could not share this delight. All these phrases 
 in which human life is treated as so insignificant 
 and is so boastfully thrown away, had to me an 
 offensive sound. 
 
 Two colonels and six subordinate officers, with 
 two privates as guard, were quartered upon us, and 
 were speedily, with all due courtesy, directed to 
 their rooms. 
 
 I can remember to this day the singular impres- 
 sion made upon me as I entered the drawing-room 
 that evening. Lori, the coquette Lori, had arrived 
 on a visit from Vienna, and the opportunity to turn 
 the heads of a few of even the hated enemy was not 
 to be despised. She had made herself as captivat- 
 ing as possible. Lilli would naturally, in Conrad's 
 presence, omit no artificial addition to her attrac- 
 tions, and Rosa, heartily glad to see a few cavaliers 
 once more, had on a light colored dress which did 
 not lessen her capacity to do mischief. I alone, re- 
 garding the time of war as a time of mourning, 
 wore a black gown. 
 
 What a contrast all this was — these beautifully 
 dressed women, these brilliant uniforms — to the 
 scenes of sorrow, anguish, and terror witnessed so 
 short a time before. It is always the brilliant, the 
 merry, and the high in social rank who bring about 
 all this trouble; it is they who use it as a means of 
 self-glorification, and by their decorations and glit- 
 tering orders distinguish themselves as the sup- 
 porters of the whole miserable system. 
 
192 "GROUND ARMSl" 
 
 My entrance broke up the various groups into 
 which the company had gathered, and the Prussian 
 guests were severally introduced to me. Distin- 
 guished names they bore, ending in "ow" and 
 "witz"; also many a "von" and even a prince — 
 Prince Henry, of the house of Reuss. 
 
 So these were our enemies! courtly gentlemen 
 with the most approved conventional society man- 
 ners. It is true that in these days we do not war 
 with Huns and Vandals, but it is a little hard to 
 remember that the other side represents the same 
 civilization as our own. 
 
 " God, who art the support of those who trust in 
 Thee, hear us who appeal to Thy compassion, and 
 through the might of Thy protection defend us 
 from the rage of the enemy that we may praise 
 Thee to all eternity." 
 
 That was the way the Grumitz pastor prayed 
 every Sunday. How was it possible for his con- 
 gregation to picture to themselves this wrathful 
 enemy? Certainly not with the manners of these 
 elegant gentlemen who led these ladies out to 
 dinner in such graceful fashion. Then it was to 
 be remembered that God this time had heard 
 the prayers of the other side, and suppressed our 
 wrath; we were the murderous, raging enemy who 
 through the might of Divine protection (we thought 
 it was the needle gun which had done it) had been 
 hurled down, and they would offer thanks to all 
 eternity — what a saintly contradiction! 
 
 These were my thoughts as I looked across the 
 table decorated with fruit and flowers, and ob- 
 served the conversation and manners of all about 
 me. I sat between a stately colonel and a slender 
 lieutenant. Lilli, naturally, was next to Conrad, 
 and Rosa had as attendant Prince Henry; the ma- 
 licious Lori had captured Frederick. All mention 
 of the war was carefully avoided, and the strangers 
 acted as if they were guests traveling for pleasure. 
 My young lieutenant paid assiduous court to me; 
 he assured me that Austria was the most delightful 
 
"GROUND ARMS I" 193 
 
 country in the world, and its women the most 
 charming. I do not deny that I flirted a little; it 
 was just as well to let Lori Griesbach and her 
 neighbor understand that I knew how to revenge 
 myself. It would have been more to the purpose, 
 however, if my lieutenant had directed his killing 
 glances in Lori's direction, where they would have 
 been better appreciated. Conrad and Lilli in their 
 province as acknowledged lovers (such people 
 ought to be caged) whispered and went through 
 all the conventional turtle-dove maneuvers. I be- 
 gan soon to suspect a third flirtation, for Prince 
 Henry's countenance expressed unalloyed admira- 
 tion of my sister Rosa. 
 
 After dinner we returned to the drawing-room, 
 now brilliantly illuminated. The door leading to 
 the terrace stood open. The soft summer night 
 was flooded with mellow moonlight. The queen 
 of night threw her beams over the hay-scented 
 sward of the park and mirrored herself, sparkling 
 like silver, in the lake beyond. 
 
 Was that really the same moon by whose light I 
 had so lately seen the mouldering corpses piled up 
 against the churchyard wall? Were these the same 
 men — one of the Prussian officers opened the piano 
 at this moment to play one of Mendelssohn's Songs 
 Without Words — were these the same who so lately, 
 saber in hand, cut open the heads of those other 
 men? 
 
 After a while Prince Henry and Rosa came out. 
 They did not notice me in my dark corner as they 
 passed near me. It seemed to me the young Prus- 
 sian — our enemy — held Rosa's hand in his own. 
 They spoke softly, and I could only now and then 
 
 catch a word. "It is fate do not say no do 
 
 you detest me? " Rosa shook her head. He lifted 
 her hand to his lips and endeavored to draw her to 
 him. She, the well-bred young woman, drew back 
 quickly. 
 
 Oh, I had been much better pleased if the soft 
 moonlight had witnessed a lover's kiss. After all 
 
194 "GROUND ARMSl" 
 
 the evidences of hate and bitterest misery, which I 
 had lately seen, such a scene of love and pure de- 
 light would have seemed some compensation. 
 
 "Ah! is that you, Martha?" exclaimed Rosa, 
 suddenly aware of my presence. 
 
 The Prince was much embarrassed. He stepped 
 up to me. 
 
 "I have offered my hand to your sister, dear 
 Madame. I hope you will say a good word for me. 
 My conduct may seem rash and bold. At another 
 time I might have been more modest and consid- 
 erate — but in the last few weeks I have accustomed 
 myself to quick and decisive measures — no dally- 
 ing or hesitation was allowed — and what I have 
 learned in war I have involuntarily applied in love. 
 Forgive me and be my friend. You are silent, 
 Countess. Do you refuse my hand?" 
 
 " My sister cannot so rashly decide her fate," I 
 said, coming to Rosa's aid. " Whether our father 
 will give his consent to a marriage with an enemy 
 or whether Rosa can return an attachment so sud- 
 denly announced, who can tell to-day?" 
 
 " I know I can," she answered, holding out both 
 Rands to the young man! 
 
 He caught her in his arms. 
 
 "O, you foolish children!" I said, and softly 
 moved away to the door in order to watch that — 
 at least just at this moment — no one should come 
 out. 
 
 On the following morning the engagement was 
 announced. 
 
 My father made no objection. I had believed 
 that his hatred of Prussia would make it impos- 
 sible for him to admit to his family one of the vic- 
 torious enemy; but it seemed that he separated 
 the individual from the national question. This is 
 a popular custom. " I hate them as a nation, not as 
 individuals," one hears repeatedly, although the 
 remark is no more sensible than if we were to say: 
 " I hate wine as a drink, but swallow every drop 
 willingly." But it is not necessary that such cur- 
 
"GROUND ARMSl" 195 
 
 rent phrases should be sensible, quite the contrary. 
 Perhaps gratified pride got the upper hand, for a 
 connection with the princely house of Reuss was 
 in every way desirable; possibly the romantic sud- 
 denness of the love of the young people touched 
 him. At any rate, he gave a willing consent. Aunt 
 Marie was not so easily reconciled. 
 
 "Impossible," she exclaimed, "the Prince is a 
 Lutheran." 
 
 She finally consoled herself with the reflection 
 that Rosa would probably convert him. 
 
 Otto rebelled the most. " How would it be if, 
 when war breaks out again, I am obliged to drive 
 my brother-in-law out of the country? " 
 
 But at last the famous theory of the difference 
 between nation and individual was explained to 
 him, and, to my astonishment, for I never could 
 grasp it, he understood it. 
 
 How quickly and easily one forgets past sorrow 
 in happy surroundings. Gradually the fearful 
 scenes of the past few weeks passed from my mind. 
 I realized, not without a twinge of conscience occa- 
 sionally, that my passionate sympathy had some- 
 what melted away. From the outside world one 
 heard many a sorrowful echo: the lamentations of 
 people who had lost in the war all their fortune and 
 all their friends; reports of probable financial catas- 
 trophe; or rumors of an outbreak of the cholera, 
 which had made its appearance among the Prus- 
 sian troops. One case had occurred in our village. 
 " It is probably nothing serious," we comfort our- 
 selves by saying, when disagreeable probabilities are 
 suggested. To drive everything unpleasant from 
 our thoughts, by "It is of no consequence," or 
 "That is all over," or "There is nothing in it," is 
 all so easy, and we utter the words with a toss of 
 the head. 
 
 " Do you know, Martha," said Rosa one day, 
 " this war was certainly something terrible, but I 
 could bless it. Without it I should never have been 
 
196 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 so happy as I am now. Should I ever have known 
 Henry? and he — would he have found such a loving 
 wife?" 
 
 "Really, Rosa, I will make this suggestion: it is 
 possible your two happy hearts may weigh in the 
 balance against the many thousand broken ones." 
 
 " One must not think of the fate of individuals. 
 In the case of the nation, war brings to the victors a 
 great gain. You ought to hear Henry talk about 
 it. He says, Prussia has won a grand position; in 
 the army general enthusiasm prevails, and a senti- 
 ment of universal gratitude and love for the field- 
 marshals who have led it to victory and thereby 
 improved the general condition of trade — and the 
 historical mission — oh, I can't tell you exactly all 
 he says. You ought to hear him." 
 
 " Why does not Prince Henry talk rather of your 
 love than of political and military affairs? " 
 
 " Oh, we talk about everything — and all he says 
 is music in my ears. I can sympathize with his 
 feeling that he is proud and happy to have had a 
 part in this war for his country." 
 
 " And as booty means to carry back such a pretty 
 wife," I replied. 
 
 My father was well pleased with his future son- 
 in-law (who would not be pleased with the fine 
 young fellow?) He dispensed his blessing and his 
 sympathy with certain qualifications and conditions. 
 
 " You are worthy of all esteem as a man, soldier, 
 and prince," he would expound to him repeatedly, 
 " but as a Prussian officer I cannot endure you, and 
 I retain the right, notwithstanding future family 
 relationship, to wish nothing so earnestly as a war 
 in which Austria may amply revenge herself for 
 this late humiliation. Political questions are en- 
 tirely distinct from personal ones. My son Otto 
 will sometime — I pray God that I may live to see 
 it! — go into the field against Prussia. Old as I am, 
 if my emperor desired, I would also accept a com- 
 mand to humble William I. and your arrogant 
 Bismarck. I acknowledge the military virtues of 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 197 
 
 the Prussian army and the strategic skill of its 
 leaders, and I should consider it perfectly natural 
 if you, in the next campaign, were compelled, at 
 the head of your battalion, to storm our capital and 
 set fire to the house in which your father-in-law 
 lives; in short " 
 
 "In short the confusion of sentiments is fright- 
 ful," I interrupted him upon one occasion. " Con- 
 tradictions of all sorts are inextricably mixed, like 
 the infusoria in a drop of foul water. To hate the 
 whole and love a part, to consider one first as a 
 man and next as a representative of his country — 
 it will not do. I prefer the custom of the savage 
 Indian who never heard of anybody as an 'indi- 
 vidual.' He only wants to scalp every man of the 
 other tribe." 
 
 " But Martha, my child, such savage sentiments 
 are unworthy the refined and humane condition of 
 our civilization." 
 
 " Say rather, the character of our civilization is 
 not consistent with the inherited barbarism of an- 
 cient times. So long as the spirit of war is not 
 shaken off, our much vaunted humanity has no 
 common sense standpoint. You will scarcely call 
 your last assertions sensible, when you assure 
 Prince Henry in one breath that you love him as a 
 son-in-law and hate him as a Prussian, value him 
 as a man and abominate him as lieutenant-colonel; 
 that you will gladly give him your blessing as a 
 father and at the same moment grant his right to 
 shoot you down if convenient. Forgive me. Father, 
 you will scarcely call such talk common sense." 
 
 "What do you say? I do not understand a 
 word." 
 
 The convenient deafness had come upon him 
 again. 
 
 After a few days it was again quiet in Grumitz. 
 Our guests departed. It was decided that the 
 marriage of my sister should take place in October. 
 Prince Henry expected to retire from the service, 
 
198 "GROUND ARMS t" 
 
 which he could honorably do after so glorious a 
 campaign, in which he had taken an active part. 
 The four parted secure of future happiness. 
 
 How can one be confident of happiness, in times 
 of war least of all? Misfortune then hovers over 
 us dense as swarms of gnats buzzing in the sun, and 
 the chance of standing aside beyond the reach of 
 the impending scourge is but small. 
 
 Certainly the war was over. That is, peace had 
 been declared. A word had been enough to let 
 loose all war's terrors, and it was believed a word 
 would again be enough to relieve us from its 
 results. Hostilities were suspended but malign 
 influences continued. The seeds of future wars 
 were scattered and the fruits of the war just ended 
 rapidly ripened in want, demoralization, and pesti- 
 lence. One might protest in vain and decline to 
 think; it was useless, the cholera raged throughout 
 the country. 
 
 On the morning of the eighth of August when I 
 opened the paper at breakfast, the first thing my 
 eye fell upon was the report from Vienna: 
 
 " Cases of cholera increase rapidly; the civil as well as 
 military hospitals have reported many cases of the gen- 
 uine Asiatic type, and most energetic measures have been 
 taken to prevent the disease becoming epidemic." 
 
 I was about to read the despatch aloud when 
 Aunt Marie exclaimed, holding up a letter written 
 by a friend on a neighboring estate: 
 
 "Dreadful! Betty writes that two people have 
 died of cholera in her house and that her husband 
 is very ill." 
 
 " Excellence, the school teacher wishes to speak 
 to you," the servant announced. 
 
 The teacher came in close upon the heels of the 
 speaker. 
 
 "Count Althaus, I come to report that I have 
 closed the village school. Yesterday two children 
 were taken with the cholera, and to-day they are 
 dead." 
 
 " The cholera? " we exclaimed. 
 
"GROUND ARMS I" 199 
 
 " There is no doubt of it. The doctor who has 
 been sent from the city says that it has become 
 epidemic." 
 
 We looked at each other in dismay. Here it 
 was again, our frightful enemy, death, and each of 
 us saw his skeleton hand stretched over the head 
 of some one we loved. 
 
 "We must go away! " said Aunt Marie. 
 
 " Where?" replied the teacher. " Everywhere the 
 disease is spreading." 
 
 "Across the frontier." 
 
 "Quarantine will be established. That will not 
 be possible." 
 
 " That would be horrible. They will not prevent 
 people flying from the region of pestilence? " 
 
 " Certainly. Healthy communities will not toler- 
 ate the spread of the disease within their borders." 
 
 " Then God's will be done," exclaimed my father 
 with a deep sigh. " You are usually so firm a be- 
 liever in destiny, Marie, I cannot understand your 
 wish to run away. The fate of every one will reach 
 him wherever he is, you say. But still I would 
 much rather you and the children should go away 
 — and Otto, you must eat no more fruit." 
 
 " I will despatch to Bresser," said Frederick, " to 
 send us the means for disinfection." 
 
 Later events I cannot minutely describe, for the 
 episode at breakfast was the only one I transferred 
 to my note-book. I can only report from memory 
 the incidents of the days immediately following. 
 Terror and dread oppressed us all. Who does not 
 tremble in times of epidemic, when all we love are 
 in danger? Above every loved head hangs a sword 
 of Damocles, and one does not willingly die — so 
 needlessly and fearfully. Courage consists alone 
 in the ability to desist from thought. 
 
 Flee? This idea took possession of me on ac- 
 count of my little Rudolph. My father insisted 
 upon the family leaving the castle. On the follow- 
 ing day he decided that the family must depart. 
 He meant to remain himself, not being willing to 
 
200 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 leave his servants and the villagers to face the 
 danger alone. Frederick declared he would remain 
 also, and I would not leave his side. 
 
 Aunt Marie was to go with the two girls, and 
 Otto and Rudolph. Where? that was not yet de- 
 termined; at the outset to Hungary. The young 
 women busied themselves anxiously and hurriedly 
 with the preparations. Die! just when happiness 
 was promised in the near future — that would be a 
 tenfold death. 
 
 The boxes were brought into the dining-room 
 to hasten the work of packing. I brought a bundle 
 of Rudolph's clothes upon my arm. 
 
 "Why does not your maid do that?" asked my 
 father. 
 
 " I do not know where Netti is hiding; I rang 
 several times and she does not come. I thought it 
 was better to bring them myself." 
 
 "You spoil all your servants," said my father 
 angrily, and he ordered a servant standing near to 
 hunt up the girl. 
 
 In a short time he returned with an anxious 
 countenance. 
 
 " The — Netti is in bed in her room. She is — 
 she has — she is " 
 
 " Why do you not speak? " scolded my father. 
 "What is she?" 
 
 "She is already quite black." 
 
 A shriek came from all lips. So it was among 
 us — this horrible plague — in our own house. 
 
 What was to be done? The unfortunate girl 
 must not be left to die alone. But whoever ap- 
 proached her sought certain death, not only for 
 himself, but for all others whom he might after- 
 wards approach. A house in such a strait is as if 
 surrounded by bandits, or as if in flames, with no 
 means of escape for the inmates. Everywhere, 
 from every nook and corner — following upon every 
 step and act — death stared upon us. 
 
 " Bring the doctor at once," my father ordered. 
 " And you children hasten your departure." 
 
"GROUND ARM SI" 201 
 
 "The doctor returned to town an hour ago," 
 answered the servant. 
 
 " Oh, I am so ill! " exclaimed Lilli, who had 
 grown deathly pale as she sank upon the sofa. 
 
 We sprang to her aid. 
 
 " What ails you? You are silly, it is nothing but 
 anxiety." 
 
 But it was not anxiety, it was — no doubt — we 
 dared not think, but hurried her to her room, where 
 she was at once seized with all the most aggra- 
 vated symptoms of the dread disease. This was 
 the second case of cholera in one day at the castle. 
 
 It was frightful to see what the poor sister suf- 
 fered — and no doctor to be found. Frederick was 
 the best adapted to supply his place, and he ordered 
 all the well-known remedies, warm flannels, broken 
 ice, champagne. Nothing was of any avail. These 
 means, well adapted to light cases, were of no serv- 
 ice here. Cramps of the whole body set in which 
 seemed to make even the bones crack. The un- 
 happy girl could not utter a sound, her voice failed, 
 the skin became blue and cold, the breathing grew 
 difHcult. 
 
 My father walked up and down wringing his 
 hands. Once I stopped him and said gloomily: 
 
 "This is the result of war. Father! Will you 
 not curse war now?" 
 
 He shook me off without a reply. 
 
 After ten hours of suffering Lilli was dead. 
 Netti, my maid, had died alone in her room; we 
 were all busied with Lilli, and none of the servants 
 would go near her. 
 
 In the meantime Doctor Bresser arrived and as- 
 sumed control of the house. He brought all new 
 means of relief. I could have kissed his hand 
 when the old friend stood so unexpectedly in our 
 midst, ready to sacrifice himself to our welfare. 
 The two bodies were carried to a distant chamber, 
 the rooms lately occupied by them were locked, and 
 the strictest measures were taken for the safety of 
 the other members of the family. An intense odor 
 
202 "GROUND ARMSl" 
 
 of carbolic acid filled the house, and to this day 
 this smell brings back to memory all the events of 
 that terrible time. 
 
 The flight was attempted a second time. The 
 day after Lilli's death the carriage stood at the 
 door which was to carry Aunt Marie, Rosa, Otto, 
 and my little one, when the coachman dismounted 
 from the box and declared himself unable to drive. 
 
 " I will drive you myself," said my father. "Quick 
 — is everything ready? " 
 
 Rosa stepped back. 
 
 " Go on," she said, "I must remain; I shall follow 
 Lilli." 
 
 And she was right. By daybreak of the second 
 day her body was carried to the vault. 
 
 Of course flight was no longer thought of for a 
 moment. 
 
 Even in my agony I was seized with the deepest 
 scorn of the gigantic folly which had voluntarily 
 brought about all this misery. As Rosa's body 
 was carried from her chamber my father sank on 
 his knees, his head against the wall. 
 
 I seized him fiercely by the arm. " Father,'' I 
 cried, " that is war! " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Father, do you hear? Now will you not curse 
 war? " 
 
 He sprang to his feet. 
 
 "You remind me of my duty; this misfortune 
 must be endured with a soldier's courage. Not I 
 alone; the whole country brings its offering of 
 tears and blood." 
 
 " What advantage has your suffering and that of 
 your brothers been to our country? What gain to 
 it the lost battles, the shortened lives of your two 
 children? Father, I implore you, if you love me, 
 curse war. See there," I drew him to the window 
 where a hearse had rolled into the court; " see, that 
 is for our Lilli, and to-morrow it will come for 
 Rosa, and day after to-morrow perhaps for a third, 
 and why, why? " 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 303 
 
 " Because God wills it, my child." 
 
 "God — always God? All folly, all barbarity, all 
 the mad violence of the human being hides behind 
 this shield: ' God wills it.' " 
 
 "Do not blaspheme, Martha, not now when 
 God's reproving hand is so clearly seen." 
 
 I had written to Conrad: "Lilli is sick." 
 
 Four days later he entered the house. 
 
 " Lilli," he cried, " is it true? " 
 
 We nodded. 
 
 He remained profoundly quiet, without shedding 
 a tear. " I tiave loved her many years," he said 
 softly to himself. 
 
 "Where is she — in the churchyard? I will go 
 there. Farewell, she must expect me." 
 
 " Shall I go with you? " some one asked. 
 
 "No, I had rather be alone." 
 
 He went out — we never saw him again. He shot 
 himself on Lilli's grave. 
 
 At any other time the full realization of this 
 tragedy would have been more overpowering. But 
 at the moment it was announced the hope and 
 pride of my father's heart, my brother Otto, was 
 attacked with the dread disease. No efforts could 
 save him, and at seven o'clock of the following 
 evening all was over. 
 
 My father threw himself down by the body with 
 a heart-breaking cry which resounded through the 
 house. With difficulty we dragged him away, and 
 for hours his despair was terrible to witness. Upon 
 this outbreak followed stolid apathy, and he lay 
 upon a couch motionless and almost unconscious. 
 Doctor Bresser ordered that he be carried to his 
 bed. 
 
 After an hour he seemed to rouse himself. Aunt 
 Marie, Frederick, and I were at his side. He 
 glanced about, then sat up and tried to speak. He 
 could not utter a word and struggled for breath. 
 Finally he murmured "Martha." 
 
 I fell on my knees at the side of the bed. 
 
304 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 " Father, my poor, dear father! " 
 
 He lifted his hand over my head. " Your wish," 
 he gasped painfully. " I curse — I curse " 
 
 He could not finish, and fell back upon the pil- 
 lows. 
 
 Doctor Bresser anxiously leaned over him. He 
 was dead. 
 
 " The most dreadful thing about it is," said Aunt 
 Marie, after we had buried him, "that he died with 
 a curse upon his lips." 
 
 " Be comforted," I said to her. " If this curse 
 fell from the lips of all mankind it would be the 
 greatest blessing to humanity." 
 
 Such was the cholera week in Grumitz. In seven 
 days ten of the inhabitants of the castle had been 
 carried away: my father, Lilli, Rosa, Otto, my maid 
 Netti, the cook, the coachman, and two of the sta- 
 blemen. In the village they had buried eighty 
 persons. 
 
 When one speaks of it in this cold way it sounds 
 like a statistical report; when it is written in a 
 book it looks like an extravagant phantasy of the 
 author. But it is neither so dry a fact as the one 
 nor so sentimentally terrible as the other; it is cold, 
 frightful, heart-breaking reality. The annals of the 
 time show a similar condition in all those localities 
 where the Prussians had been quartered. 
 
 We spent the remainder of the summer in 
 Geneva. 
 
 It was through Doctor Bresser's urging that we 
 fled from the scene of so much sorrow. At first I 
 apathetically refused to leave the place where all 
 my dead lay buried, but Bresser appealed to my 
 mother love for my little Rudolph, who must be 
 removed as much as possible from the danger of 
 contagion. 
 
 We chose Switzerland as a place of refuge by 
 Frederick's special wish, as he desired to make the 
 acquaintance of the men who had organized the 
 " Red Cross," and to be better informed as to the 
 object of the association. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 305 
 
 Frederick had sent in the resignation of his com- 
 mission and now only awaited its acceptance. His 
 leave of absence would cover our six months' visit. 
 I was now rich — very rich. The death of my 
 father, brother, and sisters left me the entire family 
 estate. 
 
 "See here," I said to Frederick, as the notary 
 transferred the deeds to me. "What would you 
 say if I should regard war as a benefit because of 
 the advantage its results have brought to me? " 
 
 "You would not be my Martha! But I under- 
 stand what you mean; you are thinking of the 
 heartless egotism which will rejoice over material 
 prosperity won by the destruction of others; those 
 who feel it are careful to conceal it, while nations 
 and dynasties openly and proudly acknowledge it. 
 Thousands have gone down in irretrievable ruin, 
 but we have won territory and power, therefore 
 Heaven be praised for fortunate war." 
 
 We lived in absolute retirement in a little villa 
 on the shore of the lake. I was so overwhelmed 
 by the experiences of preceding events that I could 
 not endure the society of strangers. I owed it to 
 my Grumitz graves — that my tender-hearted hus- 
 band realized — to be allowed to weep out my sor- 
 row in quietude. Those torn so mercilessly from 
 the beautiful world should have some little time 
 allotted them in the memory of one whose sorrow- 
 ful heart had been so suddenly and coldly robbed 
 of them. 
 
 Frederick himself went often into the city to 
 pursue the object of his sojourn — the study of the 
 system of the Red Cross. 
 
 Of the result of this study I have now no report, 
 as at that time I dropped the notes in my diary. 
 Only one impression remained as produced by my 
 entire environment: the quiet, the content, the 
 cheerful temper of all whom I met — as if we all 
 lived in the happiest of times. Scarce an echo was 
 heard of the recent war, and each allusion to it 
 took the form of anecdote or some pleasant, inter- 
 
206 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 esting experience — as if the terrific thunder of the 
 cannon from the Bohemian battlefield were noth- 
 ing more than one of Wagner's operas. The whole 
 thing was now relegated to history, and to the maps 
 marking certain changes in boundaries, but all its 
 misery was thrust out of sight; it had never been 
 a part of the life of those not engaged in the war 
 and was forgotten, its agony outlived and wiped 
 out. The newspapers — I read French ones mostly 
 — were all full of the preparations for the World's 
 Exposition at Paris, the festivities at Compiegne, 
 the latest literary events (much was said of Zola 
 and Flaubert), the newest plays; the last opera by 
 Gounod — one by Offenbach, in which Hortense 
 Schneider played a brilliant rSle. The piquant 
 duel between the Prussians and Austrians was an 
 old, worn-out story. O, all that lies three months 
 behind us, or is thirty miles away — all that is not in 
 our immediate present — cannot be expected to be 
 part of the overfull human heart or retain a place 
 in human memory. 
 
 In October we returned to Vienna, intending 
 after the settlement of my affairs to go to Paris for 
 a prolonged residence. Frederick had in mind the 
 organization of a league of peace, and thought the 
 approaching World's Exposition the best oppor- 
 tunity to call an international congress together, 
 and Paris the most suitable location for the pur- 
 pose. 
 
 " I have laid down the profession of arms," he 
 said, "and have done that because of the convic- 
 tions gained through my experience of war. I 
 enlist now in the army of peace. Truly, small in 
 numbers, armed by no weapon save a love of jus- 
 tice and humanity. But all that becomes great had 
 but a small beginning." 
 
 " Ah," I sighed, " it is a hopeless task. What can 
 you— one man — do against the mighty barricade 
 defended for centuries by millions of men?" 
 
 "What can I do — I? In truth I am not so fool- 
 ish as to hope that I personally can lead to this 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 207 
 
 revolution. I say only that I enter the ranks of the 
 army of peace. Did I ever, when in the army of 
 war, hope to rescue my country or to conquer a 
 province? No, the individual can only serve. More 
 yet — he must serve. He who is inspired by a cause 
 can do no other than work for it, he can set his life 
 upon it, even if he knows how little this life in 
 itself can contribute to victory. He serves because 
 he must; it is not alone the State, but private con- 
 viction which demands this duty of him." 
 
 Before our departure for Paris we intended going 
 to Berlin to visit poor Aunt Cornelia. I left Ru- 
 dolph with Aunt Marie, who, since the deaths in our 
 family, devoted herself to him; around the child 
 centered. all her interest in life. 
 
 On the eve of the first of November we arrived 
 in Prague. We remained over night, and the next 
 morning made a new pilgrimage. 
 
 " All Saints' Day! " I said as I glanced at the date 
 of the newspaper brought to our room with our 
 breakfast. 
 
 "All Saints' Day," repeated Frederick. "How 
 many of our dead on these new battlefields cannot 
 be honored because one knows not where they lie! 
 Who will visit them?" 
 
 I looked up at him, a moment silently, then said 
 softly: "Will you?" 
 
 He nodded. An hour later we were on the way 
 to Chlum and Koniggratz. 
 
 "Lo! what a sight!" 
 
 An elegy of Tiedge occurred to my mind: * 
 
 " Lo! what a sight! stand here in thy lordly pride. 
 
 By these mouldering bones, thou ruler ' by right divine/ 
 And swear that the tyrant of men shall become their 
 guide — 
 That as ' prince of peace ' thou wilt rule with a sway 
 benign. 
 
 ♦The metrical translations in " Ground Arms! " are by Mr. Thomas C. 
 Roney. — A. 
 
208 ''GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 Gaze round about thee when thirsting for glory and fame, 
 O tender shepherd, who guardest thy flocli from the 
 foe; 
 
 Number these skulls — their ravager's hand is the same 
 As his at whose stroke thy head shall forever lie low. 
 
 If in thy dreams thou shudderest, hearing the groan 
 Of a wretch whose life thou in grewsome horrors hast 
 ended; 
 How shalt thou dream as thou sittest upon thy throne: 
 ' My name is secure — with the great world-history 
 blended ' ? " 
 
 So long as this world-history is written by those 
 who set up for its heroes pictorial monuments built 
 from the ruins made by war, just so long will the 
 Titans among the murderers of peoples be.crowned 
 with laurels. " To refuse the laurel wreath, to sac- 
 rifice fame would be noble," does the poet say? 
 Rob of its ancient nimbus the thing which it seems 
 meritorious to refuse, and no ambitious man will 
 strive to grasp it. 
 
 It was twilight when we arrived in Chlum, and 
 from there, arm in arm, in silent, deep depression, 
 approached the dread battlefield of Sadowa. Small 
 flakes of snow fell softly through a light mist, and 
 the bare branches of the trees were swayed about 
 by a cold November wind. , Rows upon rows of 
 graves and masses of graves were all about us. 
 But was it the quiet churchyard? No. Not one of 
 life's tired pilgrims had been laid here to peaceful 
 rest, but in the flush of youthful fire, in the full- 
 ness of manhood's prime, most defiant expectants 
 of the future, they had been violently hurled down 
 and the earth of the grave shoveled over them. 
 All the breaking hearts, the bloody, mangled limbs, 
 the bitterly weeping eyes, the despairing cries, the 
 fruitless prayers, were engulfed in eternal silence. 
 
 It was not lonely on this burialfield. All Saints' 
 Day had brought many here — friends and foes of 
 those who had fallen. The train had been filled 
 with mourners, and for several hours I had heard 
 sobs and murmurs of lament. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 209 
 
 " I lost three sons — each nobler than the other — 
 on the field of Sadowa," I heard one old, heart- 
 broken man say. There were mourners for broth- 
 ers, husbands, and fathers, but none of them so 
 impressed me as the hopelessness of the tearless 
 sorrow of this father for his three sons. 
 
 In the fields we saw upon all sides black-robed 
 figures kneeling, or rising and going with sobs from 
 the spot. Few single graves were to be seen, and 
 few marked by cross or stone. We stooped and 
 deciphered, as well as the twilight permitted, a few 
 names. 
 
 Major von Reuss, of the Second Prussian Regi- 
 ment of the Guards. 
 
 " Possibly he was a relative of the betrothed of 
 our poor Rosa," I remarked. 
 
 Count Griinne — wounded the third of July — 
 died the fifth of July. 
 
 What must he have suffered in those three days! 
 I wondered if he were the son of that Count 
 Griinne, who before the war had uttered the well- 
 known sentence: " We will drive out the Prussians 
 with wet rags." How absurd and offensively silly 
 such expressions sound, when repeated in such a 
 place. Words, words — nothing more — contemptu- 
 ous words, bombastic words, threatening words — 
 spoken, written and printed — these have caused this 
 field to be filled with dead. 
 
 We walked on. Everywhere there were hillocks 
 of greater or less height, greater or less breadth, 
 and spots without any elevation, which covered sol- 
 diers' mouldering bodies. 
 
 The mist grew denser. 
 
 " Frederick, put on your hat. You will take 
 cold." 
 
 But Frederick remained uncovered — and I did 
 not repeat my admonition. 
 
 Among the mourners who wandered about were 
 many officers and soldiers, apparently those who 
 had taken part in the battle and had made this 
 pilgrimage in honor of fallen comrades. 
 
210 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 We approached that part of the field where the 
 greatest number — friend and foe — had been buried 
 together. The place had been inclosed. Toward 
 this streamed the greatest number of pilgrims, for 
 on this spot in all probability they might find their 
 dead. All around the inclosure they knelt to pray 
 and hung their funeral wreaths upon the palings. 
 
 A tall and slender man of noble presence, 
 wrapped in a general's cloak, came up to this cen- 
 tral point. All drew back respectfully and I heard 
 the whisper: 
 
 " The Emperor." 
 
 Yes, it was Francis Joseph, the country's ruler, 
 the Commander-in-chief of the army, who had 
 come on All Saints' Day to offer a silent prayer for 
 the dead children of the nation. He stood uncov- 
 ered with bowed head, in painful, reverential hom- 
 age before the majesty of death. 
 
 He remained for a time sunk in profound medi- 
 tation. I could not take my eyes from his face. 
 What memories must have oppressed his soul, 
 what sentiments overwhelmed his heart? For he 
 had a gentle, tender heart, I knew. I felt imbued 
 with a clairvoyant sense as if I could read his 
 thoughts as he stood there with his bowed head. 
 
 " My poor, brave souls who died — for what? We 
 have not conquered; my Venice is lost — so much 
 is lost and all your young lives! I have not wished 
 the sacrifice — it was for yourselves, your country, 
 that you were led into this war. Not through me 
 — though it came at my command. I have been 
 compelled to fight. Not for me have my subjects 
 fallen — no; on their account I was called to the 
 throne, and every hour I have been ready to die 
 for my people's good. Had I but followed the 
 impulses of my heart and never murmured ' yes ' 
 when all about cried ' war! war!' But could I have 
 withstood the clamor? As God is my witness — no! 
 The pressure was from you, yourselves, my dead 
 soldiers. O how miserable, most miserable — what 
 have you not suffered; and now to lie here, slain 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 211 
 
 by shot and shell, saber cuts, cholera, and typhus! 
 Could I have said ' no'? The thought is unendur- 
 able." 
 
 While I watched him, following his train of 
 thought, he covered his face with his hands and 
 broke into a passion of tears. 
 
212 "GROUND ARMSl" 
 
 FIFTH BOOK. 
 
 TIME OF PEACE. 
 
 WE found Berlin in evident jubilation. Every 
 petty clerk and every porter had an air of 
 conscious victory. " We have beaten the other 
 side," seemed a reflection which had a very exhil- 
 arating effect upon the whole population. Never- 
 theless, we found a melancholy tone pervading all 
 the families we visited, for there were none which 
 had not one unforgotten dead lying on the battle- 
 fields of Germany or Bohemia. 
 
 We dreaded our first visit to Aunt Cornelia. I 
 knew that Gottfried had been the idol of her heart, 
 and I could not measure the sorrow of the be- 
 reaved mother. I could only reflect upon what I 
 might suffer should I lose Rudolph — no, I would 
 not even think of that. 
 
 We announced our visit, and with beating heart 
 I entered Frau von Tessow's home. Even in the 
 entrance hall we realized that this was a house of 
 mourning. The servant who admitted us wore 
 black livery; in the great reception room the fur- 
 niture was all covered and there was no fire. We 
 were led into Aunt Cornelia's bedroom, where she 
 awaited us. This was a large apartment divided 
 by curtains hiding the bed, and which now served 
 also as a sitting-room. She never left the house 
 except to go to church on Sunday, and very rarely 
 went out of her room, with the exception of one 
 hour daily, which she spent in Gottfried's little 
 study. 
 
 During our visit she took us into this little room 
 and showed us a letter which he had laid on his 
 desk. 
 
"ground arms i" 213 
 
 My Precious, Darling Mother: 
 
 I know, dear Heart, that you will come here after 
 my departure — and you shall find this letter. Our per- 
 sonal parting is over. So much the more will you be 
 pleased and surprised to read these last words and these 
 cheerful, hopeful ones. Be of good courage; I am com- 
 ing back. Fate cannot divide two hearts which so de- 
 pend upon each other. My presentiment is that I shall 
 make a fortunate campaign, win stars and crosses, and 
 then come back to present you with six grandchildren. 
 I kiss your hand, your soft, tender forehead, my most 
 worshiped of mothers. Yours, Gottfried. 
 
 We found that Aunt Cornelia was not alone. A 
 gentleman in a long, black coat, whom we recog- 
 nized at a glance as a clergyman, sat near her. We 
 embraced with tears, and for several moments it 
 was not possible to speak. 
 
 As she led us back and offered us chairs she 
 introduced her guest as Mr. Molser, an army chap- 
 lain and a counselor of the consistory. 
 
 " My friend and spiritual adviser," she added, 
 " who takes an interest in offering such consolation 
 as he can in my sorrow." 
 
 " Who unfortunately, my dear friend, has not yet 
 succeeded in teaching you proper resignation or 
 how to bear this cross with the right, cheerful 
 spirit," the gentleman replied. " Why do I see you 
 still yield to these weak outbursts of tears, as you 
 did just now?" 
 
 " Forgive me. When I saw my nephew and his 
 young wife last my Gottfried was with me," she 
 could scarcely reply. 
 
 "Yes, your son was then in this sinful world, 
 exposed to all its dangers and temptations, while 
 he is now in the bosom of the Father, after he has 
 lost his life in the noblest, most blessed way for 
 king and country. You, Colonel, can help me com- 
 fort this afflicted mother, for as a soldier you know 
 that the fate of her son is an enviable one. You 
 must know how joyfully the brave soldier meets 
 death, how the decision to lay his life upon the 
 altar of his country transfigures the agonies of 
 
214 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 death, and how, when he falls in battle, in the 
 midst of the thunder of cannon, he fully expects 
 to be transferred to that greater army above, there 
 to remain until the Lord of Hosts holds his grand 
 review. You, Colonel, are among those who, by 
 the divine blessing, have helped win the righteous 
 victory " 
 
 "Pardon me, Mr. Molser," said Frederick, "I 
 was in the Austrian service." 
 
 " Ah, I thought , " stammered the reverend 
 
 gentleman, much embarrassed. " It was a fine — a 
 brave army also. But I will not disturb you fur- 
 ther. You have family matters to talk about, no 
 doubt. Good day, dear Madam, I will see you 
 again in a few days. Until then lift up your hearts 
 to the All Merciful, who does not permit a hair to 
 fall from our heads without his knowledge, and 
 who does all things for the best, whether he suffers 
 us to endure sorrow and suffering, or death itself." 
 
 My aunt shook hands with him gratefully. 
 
 Frederick detained Mr. Molser a moment. 
 
 "I have a favor to ask of you," he said. "I 
 should judge from your conversation that you are 
 thoroughly imbued with the religious and military 
 spirit. Now, my wife here is much troubled by 
 certain doubts and scruples. She maintains that 
 from the Christian standpoint war cannot be ex- 
 cused. I know quite the contrary, for the priest- 
 hood and the military class stand shoulder to 
 shoulder, but I lack the facility of language to 
 make this clear to her. Would you kindly appoint 
 an hour when we might hope for an interview to 
 discuss this subject?" 
 
 " Certainly, " replied the clergyman, and a day 
 and hour were at once appointed. 
 
 " Can the conversation of this friend afford you 
 any consolation? " said Frederick to his aunt when 
 we were alone. 
 
 "Consolation? I do not expect that in this 
 world. But he speaks so earnestly of the things of 
 which I now love most to hear, of death and sorrow, 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 315 
 
 of the cross and sacrifice and renunciation. He 
 pictures the world, which my poor Gottfried has 
 left and which I long to leave, as a vale of tears, of 
 corruption, of wickedness, of total depravity; and 
 then it seems to me not so great a sorrow that my 
 child has been taken' away. He is in heaven and 
 here on earth " 
 
 "The powers of hell prevail; that is true, as I 
 have very recently seen," replied Frederick reflect- 
 ively. 
 
 Our visit was a long and sorrowful one and 
 our conversation mainly of the recent campaign. 
 Frederick was able to give the poor mother the 
 same comfort he had once brought me, ip the as- 
 surance of the instantaneous, painless death of her 
 son. 
 
 " Now tell me, " I said to Frederick, as we left 
 the house. "What did you mean by asking that 
 clergyman to meet us? " 
 
 " To furnish material for study. I really want 
 to hear how the clergy excuse this murder of a 
 people. I used your convictions as an excuse be- 
 cause it is more reasonable that a woman should, 
 from the Christian standpoint, doubt its justifica- 
 tion of war than that a lieutenant-colonel should 
 have those views." 
 
 " But you know very well we have doubts of its 
 justification from the humane, not from the reli- 
 gious point of view alone," I replied. 
 
 " You must not acknowledge that to the clergy- 
 man, or the question will be transferred to another 
 field. There is no inherent contradiction in the 
 position of the freethinker when he strives for the 
 maintenance of peace, but the contradiction be- 
 tween the Christian principle of love and those 
 theories claimed to be of divine origin justifying 
 war, which these same Christian clergymen so curi- 
 ously defend, is just what I want to hear from the 
 lips of one of them." 
 
 The chaplain made his appearance punctually. 
 It was evident that the opportunity for a contro- 
 
216 "GROUND ARM SI" 
 
 versial discourse was enticing, especially with the 
 prospect, which he did not doubt, of my conver- 
 sion to his side of a disputed question. I, on the 
 contrary, had looked forward to the interview with 
 very uncomfortable feelings, for I felt as if occupy- 
 ing an insincere position. But for the good of the 
 cause to which Frederick had devoted himself I 
 surrendered my objections, comforting myself with 
 the reflection that the end justified the means. 
 
 " Allow me, dear Madam, to proceed at once to 
 the discussion of the object of my visit," said the 
 gentleman a day or two later, having made him- 
 self comfortable in an arm-chair near the fire. 
 " Your piind is troubled by certain scruples, which 
 are apparently just, but which can be proved to 
 be mere sophistry. You believe that the command 
 of Christ to love our enemies, and the warning, 
 ' He who takes the sword shall perish by the 
 sword,' to be a contradiction of the duties of the 
 soldier, who is required by his position to injure 
 the enemy even to the destruction of life, if neces- 
 sary? " 
 
 " Certainly, Mr. Molser, this contradiction appears 
 to me irreconcilable. We have also the express 
 command' of the decalogue 'Thou shalt not kill.'" 
 
 " Well, yes, superficially considered, that is an ap- 
 parently insurmountable difficulty; but when one 
 gets below the surface all doubts disappear. The 
 proper translation of that command, however, is 
 ' thou shalt not murder.' To kill through necessity 
 is not murder — no courts hold it so — and war is a 
 necessity, therefore, no murder. We can and must, 
 according to the gentle command of our Saviour, 
 love our enemies; but that does not mean that we 
 shall endure injustice and acts of violence." 
 
 " Then it simply amounts to this, that defensive 
 wars are alone justifiable, and the sword should be 
 drawn only when the enemy crosses the frontier. 
 Suppose the opposing power were actuated by 
 the same principle, how in the world is war going 
 to be begun? In the last war it was your army. 
 
"GROUND ARM SI'' 217 
 
 Mr. Molser, which first marched over the border 
 and " 
 
 " When it is necessary to avert catastrophe, dear 
 Madam," replied the theologian quickly, " and we 
 certainly have a sacred right to do so; it would be 
 inexcusable for us to neglect the favorable time 
 for action ; neither is it necessary to wait until the 
 enemy falls upon us, and the ruling authority must 
 be at liberty to forestall violence and injustice. 
 That is the meaning of the warning, 'He that 
 taketh the sword shall perish by the sword.' The 
 ruler stands as the servant and avenger of God 
 against the enemy who have drawn the sword 
 against him, and who therefore must perish by it." 
 
 "There is a fallacy here somewhere," said I, 
 shaking my head; "it is impossible to make these 
 grounds answer for both sides." 
 
 " In regard to other scruples of conscience," con- 
 tinued the clergyman, without noticing my re- 
 marks, " for instance, that war in itself must be 
 displeasing to God, every Bible-reading Christian 
 knows that the God of Israel himself commanded 
 his peculiar people to conquer the promised land, 
 assuring them of victory and his blessing. In the 
 twenty-first chapter and fourteenth verse of Num- 
 bers there is an allusion to the book of the wars 
 of the Lord. Often we find praises to the Lord in 
 the Psalms for the help which Jehovah has given 
 his people in war. Do you not remember, in Sol- 
 omon's proverbs, twenty-first chapter, thirty-first 
 verse, we find: ''The horse is prepared against the 
 day of battle, but safety is of the Lord.' In 
 Psalms we find David thanking God, ' who teacheth 
 my hands to war and my fingers to fight.'" 
 
 " There appears to be a material difference in the 
 teaching of the Old and New Testaments. The 
 God of the Hebrews and of the old dispensation 
 was a warlike Jehovah, but the mild and gentle 
 Jesus proclaimed the mission of peace and taught 
 love of our neighbor and our enemy," I ventured 
 to assert. 
 
218 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 " Even in the New Testament, in the Gospel of 
 St. Luke, Jesus speaks without condemnation of a 
 king going to make war upon another king. Paul 
 often uses metaphors borrowed from a condition 
 of war, as where in Romans he speaks of the ruler 
 who beareth not the sword in vain, but is God's 
 servant and avenger against those who do evil." 
 
 "But, Mr. Molser, you cannot overcome my 
 scruples by proving the existence of contradictions 
 in the Bible itself," I exclaimed. 
 
 " There you exhibit the superficial reasoning of 
 those who rely upon feeble private judgment. A 
 contradiction indicates something incomplete and 
 ungodly; when I show that a thing is to be found 
 in the Bible — no matter if it is apparently incom- 
 prehensible to human understanding — that fact 
 alone is proof of there being no contradiction, only 
 a misconception." 
 
 " I should think it complete evidence that the 
 matter in dispute could not possibly be of divine 
 origin," I muttered, but only half aloud, as the 
 utterance would completely upset our discussion. 
 
 " I have evidence here which may interest you, 
 Mr. Molser," said Frederick, " of the position as- 
 sumed by an army officer of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury, as justification of the view that war is derived 
 from the Bible. You can judge of the advance 
 you have made. It appears to me somewhat ex- 
 travagant." 
 
 He opened his desk and drew out a paper from 
 which he read: 
 
 " War was the invention of God and by him taught to 
 men. God set the first soldier with a flaming, two-edged 
 sword at the gate of the Garden of Eden in order to pun- 
 ish the first rebel, Adam. In Deuteronomy we read that 
 God, through Moses, encouraged his people to victory 
 and gave them his priests as an advance guard. 
 
 " The first stratagem was against the city of Hai, and 
 during this war the sun stood still in the heavens in order 
 that victory might be assured and many thousands slaugh- 
 tered. 
 
"GROUND ARMSr 219 
 
 " All the horrors of war are tolerated by God, for the 
 Hc<y Scripture is full of the account of them, and this 
 also indicates that as wars were approved by him every 
 honest man can with a good conscience take part in 
 them. 
 
 " The story of Deborah and Sisera; of Gibeon and of 
 David, who invented the most horrible tortures for the 
 children of Ammon and " 
 
 " But this is outrageous," exclaimed the clergy- 
 man. " No one but a rough mercenary soldier of 
 the Thirty Years' War could so malevolently distort 
 examples given in the Bible for the purpose of ex- 
 cusing the fiendishness of his own era. We now 
 proclaim a far different doctrine. In war we can 
 now only do enough to render the enemy harmless. 
 We pursue him to the death with no malicious 
 sentiment against the individual. Against the de- 
 fenseless all outrage to property or injury to life 
 becomes as immoral and inexcusable in war as in 
 peace. Yes, such arguments as you have read 
 would be used in past centuries when robber ad- 
 venturers at the head of hirelings roamed the land, 
 with their hand against every man who ventured 
 to defy them, but not to-day when soldiers are not 
 recruited for pay and booty, and without knowing 
 whom they are to fight against, but are enrolled 
 for the highest ideals of humanity, for freedom, 
 independence, national life, for right, honor, dis- 
 cipline, and morality." 
 
 " The times are changed, Mr. Molser, " I sug- 
 gested, " and you are more humane than the cap- 
 tain of the seventeenth century. But is it not the 
 same book and the same Jehovah to whom both 
 sides now appeal, whom you do not consider to 
 have altered even if the times have changed?" 
 
 Indignantly I was called to account for a lack of 
 reverence for the Word of God, and also for a lack 
 of common sense. I allowed the reverend gentle- 
 man to finish his argument without further protest, 
 and he entered upon a long harangue in which he 
 spoke of the connection between the military and the 
 Christian spirit; how elevating to the heart it was 
 
230 "GROUND ARMSl" 
 
 to see the new standards carried to the altar to be 
 consecrated, dedicated to the cause of justice and 
 the cause of God. Or, if battleworn and brought 
 for re-consecration, accompanied by martial music 
 and guarded on both sides by officers with drawn 
 swords, this flag, torn as it may be and decorated 
 with the names of battles won, is a grand incentive 
 to the raw recruit, who first sees it in such holy sur- 
 roundings. He repeated the prayer used on Sun- 
 day in all churches: "Protect, O Lord, the royal 
 army and all faithful servants of the king and 
 country. Teach them as Christians to consider 
 their end and to consecrate their lives to Thy honor 
 and the good of their native land." 
 
 " God with us, " he continued, " is the motto 
 upon the belt-buckle worn by the infantry, and this 
 inscription should give each man courage. Is God 
 with us — who can prevail against us? The church 
 appoints fast days and periods of prayer at the 
 beginning of war, in order that the people may 
 appeal to God, certain that through the power of 
 earnest prayer the assistance of the Almighty may 
 be secured, and through this mediation victory be 
 assured. How powerfully the soldier marching 
 into the field is aided by this consecration to duty. 
 When called upon by his king to step into the 
 ranks, how securely he can reckon upon victory 
 and blessing for a righteous cause! God, the 
 Lord of all, will lead his people, as he once led 
 his people Israel, if we prayerfully commit the 
 battle to him. The intimate connection between 
 prayer and victory, between piety and bravery is 
 easily understood; for what can afford greater 
 security in the face of death than the assurance 
 that, if in the turmoil of battle the last hour strikes, 
 the soldier will then find himself in the presence of 
 a gracious and well pleased Judge? Faith and 
 loyalty in connection with valor and capacity for 
 war belong to the old traditions of our people." 
 
 In this style he continued for some time: one 
 moment with bowed head and softest tone he 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 331 
 
 spoke of love, heaven, humility, salvation, and sa- 
 cred things; the next, with military precision, son- 
 orous voice, and sharp and cutting emphasis, he 
 discoursed of strictest morals and sternest disci- 
 pline of sword and gun. The word joy was not 
 otherwise used than in connection with death and 
 battle. From the standpoint of the army chaplain, 
 to kill and to be killed seemed the chief joy of life. 
 Verses were declaimed, battle songs recited. First 
 that one by Korner: 
 
 " My Father, lead Thou me, 
 
 Or to the victor's crown, or to death's altar! 
 
 At Thy divine command ne'er will I falter. 
 Lord, as Thou wilt, oh, lead Thou me. 
 My God, I bow to Thee." 
 
 Then the old folk song of the Thirty Years' War: 
 
 " Brave men no holier death can die. 
 No fate more fondly cherish, 
 Than here, beneath the open sky. 
 By the foe's good sword to perish. 
 
 In peace the grassy hillocksswell 
 
 Above each lonely sleeper; 
 But soldiers true lie as they fell. 
 
 Like grain beside the reaper." 
 
 ^gain, Lenau's War Song of the Merry Armorer: 
 
 " Peace destroys the life of nations. 
 Saps the soldier's strength, defaces 
 Martial pride, with cobwebs traces 
 All his hard-won decorations. 
 
 Ha! war's ringing call elates him. 
 Blood is flowing; wounds are gaping,— 
 Into living mouths seem shaping. 
 
 Deadly strife rejuvenates him." 
 
 He closed with this quotation from Luther: 
 "When I consider that war is the protection of 
 wife, child, home, country, goodness, and honor, 
 how can I refrain from regarding it as a most 
 valuable means to a noble end." ' 
 
222 ''GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 " Well, yes — whep I look upon the panther as a 
 dove, certainly I must consider him as a harmless 
 creature," I murmured to myself. How gladly 
 would I have replied to his rhythmical flood by a 
 poem from Bodenstedt: 
 
 Of battles and heroic deeds 
 
 Discourse in pompous declamation; 
 
 But tell me naught of Christian creeds 
 That need the cannon's punctuation. 
 
 If, to proclaim your valor good. 
 You indulge such heathenish behavior; 
 
 Spill without stint your victim's blood. 
 But talk not then to me of ' Saviour.' 
 
 The Turk, devout and credulous. 
 Fights for the honor of his Allah; 
 
 But Odin lives no more for us — 
 Dead are the gods of the Walhalla. 
 
 Be what you will, unfettered, free 
 To slay on this side or the other; 
 
 Abhorred be that hypocrisy 
 
 Which calls the Nazarene your brother." 
 
 But our " Martial Nazarene " could not know our 
 thoughts, and with evident pleasure in what he 
 considered a triumphant ending to a most instruct- 
 ive discourse, he rose and departed, after congratu- 
 lating Frederick upon having silenced the scruples 
 of his wife, whose previous point of view must 
 have been very annoying to a soldier. 
 " Ah! " I sighed, " what a torment! " 
 " Yes, it was, and was increased by the conscious- 
 ness that we were not acting fairly. I was some- 
 times almost driven to say to him that I shared the 
 convictions of my wife, and that what he had said 
 only showed the weakness of his own position and 
 would invite me to prove further how untenable it 
 was. But I was silent. Why should I outrage the 
 convictions of an honest man, convictions which 
 must necessarily lie at the foundation of his pro- 
 fession? " ' 
 
GROUND ARMS!" 223 
 
 " Honest convictions? Are you sure of that? 
 Does he reason at all? Does he actually believe he 
 is speaking the truth, or does he not consciously 
 deceive his soldier congregation when he prom- 
 ises them victory through the help of a God who he 
 knows is appealed to in the same manner by the 
 other side? This appeal for 'our nation ' and ' our 
 cause,' as if it were the only righteous one, and at 
 ' the same time the cause of God, belongs to a per- 
 iod when one tribe, shut out from all other peo- 
 ples, considered itself the special favorite of heaven. 
 And then these consolatory pictures of heavenly 
 bliss, in order to reconcile one to the sacrifice of 
 this life on earth — these ceremonies and consecra- 
 tions, sacred oaths and anthems, manipulated with 
 the object of arousing in the breast of those or- 
 dered into active service a contempt for death — are 
 all too horrible." 
 
 " There are two sides to every question, Martha," 
 said Frederick. " Because we hate war, everything 
 used to excuse it seems horrible." 
 
 "Certainly, because through all these artificial 
 means the atrocity is maintained." 
 
 " Not entirely. Old customs are embedded with 
 a thousand roots, and so long as they endure it is 
 as well that all mitigating sentiments and notions 
 should live with them. How many poor devils 
 have been helped in the hour of death by these 
 careful, instructions as to the glory of life's sur- 
 render in. such a cause; how many pious souls have 
 confidently relied upon the promises of divine help 
 made by the clergy; now much innocent vanity 
 and what lofty sentiments of honor have been 
 awakened and satisfied by these religious ceremo- 
 nies; how many hearts have beat higher under the 
 inspiration of this noble music! Among all the 
 sorrows which war has brought upon mankind we 
 must leave out that anguish which the bards of 
 battle-hymns, and the preachers have through their 
 chants and sermons sung and lied away." 
 
224 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 We were suddenly called from Berlin by the dan- 
 gerous illness of Aunt Marie. 
 
 I found our old friend at the point of death. 
 
 "I am glad to go," she said; "since my poor 
 brother and his three children were taken away 
 I find no comfort in life. Conrad and Lilli are 
 also united up there. They were not destined to 
 union on earth. It is a comfort to me that you 
 are happy, Martha, and the fact that your husband 
 has escaped the dangers of two campaigns proves 
 that you are ordained to grow old together. Be 
 careful to educate Rudolph as a good Christian 
 and a good soldier, in order that his grandfa:ther 
 may rejoice over him. I will pray incessantly that 
 you may live long and happily." 
 
 I could not at such a time comment on the con- 
 tradiction of foreordination to live and the neces- 
 sity of incessant prayer to that end. After three 
 days of suffering the last of the friends of my child- 
 hood quietly passed away after receiving the con- 
 solatory last sacraments of the church. She left 
 her small fortune to Rudolph and appointed her 
 old friend, the Minister of Finance, as trustee. We 
 remained some months in Vienna, as a long resi- 
 dence in Paris would not be possible until our busi- 
 ness affairs were in order. 
 
 Twice a week our old friend dined with us, and 
 Frederick took great pleasure in turning the con- 
 versation upon the study of human rights. For 
 the old gentleman, who was a born and trained 
 diplomat and bureaucrat, the position of Frederick 
 was difficult to grasp. He was acquainted with 
 practical politics, which, as it simply considers ex- 
 pediency as a rule of action, does not even know 
 the theoretical questions of social science. 
 
 I sat near at hand, busied with needlework, and 
 did not join in the conversation. This was quite 
 proper according to the standpoint of the old gen- 
 tleman, who knew well that for women politics was 
 far too profound a subject; he was convinced that 
 I was occupied with other matters, when in truth it 
 
"GROUND ARMSl" 325 
 
 was my business to imprint all upon my memory 
 in order to copy it into my note-books. Frederick 
 made no secret of his views, although he knew 
 well what an unthankful rdle one plays in main- 
 taining theories which by the- world at large are 
 regarded as fantastic and impracticable. 
 
 " I have an important piece of news to-day, my 
 dear Tilling, " said the minister as he came in one 
 afternoon. " It is rumored in official circles that 
 the war ministry are going to recommend a gen- 
 eral obligation to military service." 
 
 "What? The same system which we so lately 
 ridiculed when we talked about arming tailors' ap- 
 prentices?" asked Frederick. 
 
 "We did have a prejudice against it, but Prussia 
 has proved its value. From the moral, democratic 
 and liberal standpoint, which you are lately talk- 
 ing about so much, it is the proper thing. Every 
 citizen, without regard to condition or class, owes 
 his country the same duty; and from the military 
 point of view, why, Prussia proved that this was 
 the reason of her success." 
 
 " You mean to say that if we had had a greater 
 force the enemy could not have made his own so 
 serviceable; ergo, if all nations carried out the sys- 
 tem of general armament, no one would be the 
 gainer. The war game of chess would be played 
 with larger numbers, but the result would still 
 depend upon the fortune and skill of those en- 
 gaged, the only difference would be that where 
 thousands are now slaughtered, hundreds of thou- 
 sands would then suffer." 
 
 " Why, do you consider it just and right, " ex- 
 claimed the diplomatist, " that only a part of the 
 population should be sacrificed for the benefit of 
 another class, who because they are sick can re- 
 main at home? No, no; with the new regulation 
 this will all be changed. There will be no buying 
 of substitutes — every one must serve. And these 
 intelligent classes will make the finest material for 
 soldiers." 
 
326 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 " But the other side use the same educated class. 
 There is another view of this question; both sides 
 must suffer by the loss of priceless intellectual 
 material, when the educated, — those who through 
 invention, art, or any scientific investigation are 
 materially advancing civilization, — ^are forced into 
 the ranks as a target for the enemy's fire." 
 
 "Pshaw! what does invention, or art, or rum- 
 maging among dry bones, called scientific investi- 
 gation, add to the power or influence of a state?" 
 
 "What! "exclaimed Frederick. 
 
 " Yes, how? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing of course, go on " 
 
 " These men need to serve but a short time — a 
 few years of strict discipline will not interfere with 
 their other duties as good citizens. Blood tax we 
 have all got to pay, so it might as well be divided 
 equally." 
 
 " If through this division the blood tax were 
 diminished, it would be a recommendation; but 
 it is thereby increased. I hope the project will 
 not succeed. One cannot calculate to what it may 
 lead. One power will endeavor to surpass the 
 other and it virill end in the existence no longer 
 of armies, but of armed nations. More and more 
 men will be drawn into the service, the length of 
 the time of service will be increased, the costs of 
 maintenance will grow greater, and without actu- 
 ally coming to blows nations through this armed 
 condition will be precipitated into ruin." 
 
 " You are looking too far ahead. Tilling." 
 
 " One cannot look too far ahead. Everything 
 which man undertakes should be reasoned out to 
 its logical conclusion, to its extreme consequences. 
 We are fond of comparing war to a game of chess; 
 politics is the same, your Excellency, and he is a 
 poor player who does not calculate farther than 
 one move, or who rejoices because he threatens 
 only a pawn. Suppose, after every man regard- 
 less of age had been drawn up into line, some na- 
 tion should conclude to arm its women and then 
 its children, — think of battalions of children." 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 327 
 
 "Be quiet, Tilling. You are an impracticable 
 dreamer. If you can tell me the way to prevent 
 war it might be a good thing. But as that is not 
 possible, every nation must look to it that in the 
 inevitable struggle for existence (is not that one of 
 Darwin's battle-cries?) it secures the best chance 
 to win." 
 
 " If I were to tell you the way to prevent war 
 you would think me a more impracticable dreamer 
 than ever, and blinded by sentimentality and the 
 ' humanity swindle,' as the war party denounces it." 
 
 "All practicable means fail to secure the attain- 
 ment of your ideal. You can only reckon upon 
 factors actually in existence. These are the pas- 
 sions of men, the rivalries, the antagonism of inter- 
 ests, the impossibility of agreeing upon all ques- 
 tions " 
 
 " It is not necessary to agree," interrupted Fred- 
 erick. "When differences arise a court of appeal 
 — not a resort to force — could decide." 
 
 " Nations and people will never agree to an inter- 
 national tribunal." 
 
 " The people? Potentates and diplomats will be 
 slow. But the people? Nowhere is the love of 
 peace so earnest and sincere as among the people, 
 while the protestations to that effect of diplomats 
 and government^ are mainly lies, hypocritical lies, 
 or at least believed to be so by the antagonistic 
 nation. More and more the people will cry for 
 peace. With the growth of standing armies the 
 dislike for war will increase in the same propor- 
 tion. It is easy to conceive of enthusiasm for a 
 class, and the soldier had an honorable position 
 by reason of the halo of self-sacrifice surrounding 
 him. But when this exceptional condition becomes 
 the general one, all such distinction fades away. 
 The admiring gratitude of those who remain at 
 home disappears, because no one any longer re- 
 mains at home. It will be difficult then to arouse 
 the love of war so persistently ascribed to the sol- 
 dier. Who were those who had so much to say of 
 
228 GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 the heroism of military service, and who glorified 
 the danger? Those who before were quite safe, 
 the college professors, the diplomatists, the pot- 
 house politicians, the chorus of the old men, as in 
 ' Faust.' But with the loss of security for them- 
 selves these will all be hushed, and when not only 
 those who love the service, but those who cordially 
 detest it, are forced into the ranks, the situation 
 will then become more than serious and alarming. 
 Poets, thinkers, friends of humanity, gentle people, 
 timid people: all these will, from their own special 
 point of view, curse the whole thing." 
 
 " They will more likely keep quiet in order not 
 to be considered cowards, or for fear of getting 
 into disgrace with the powers that be." 
 
 "Keep quiet! Not always. I have kept silence 
 a long time, but the time has come for me to speak 
 out. When conviction drives, words come fast 
 enough. I was forty years old before my convic- 
 tions assumed force sufficient to find expression. 
 And where I required two or three times ten years 
 to ripen conviction, the masses may need two or 
 three generations; but the time will come at last 
 and they will speak." 
 
 New Year, '67. 
 
 We celebrated St. Sylvester's Eve entirely alone, 
 Frederick and I. As it struck twelve o'clock I said, 
 sighing: 
 
 " Do you remember the toast that my poor father 
 offered at this hour a year ago? I do not dare to 
 wish you a happy New Year — the future hides in 
 her breast so much that is terrible, and no human 
 being can avert it." 
 
 "Then let us make use of the season to look 
 back instead of toward the future. How much 
 you have endured, my poor, brave wife! You have 
 buried so many of those you loved — and that 
 frightful day on the Bohemian battlefields " 
 
 " I shall never regret being a witness of those 
 horrors. I can more thoroughly sympathize with 
 my whole soul in your undertaking." 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 229 
 
 "We must educate your — our — Rudolph to carry 
 on these attempts; in his time, perhaps, the dis- 
 tant goal may be discerned on the horizon — in ours 
 it is not visible. What a noise the people make 
 upon the streets. They welcome in the new year 
 as jubilantly as they did the last, which brought 
 them such sorrow. Oh, how men forget! " 
 
 " Do not find fault with this forgetfulness. Al- 
 ready the anguish of the past seems to me a 
 dream, and what I realize to-day is the happiness 
 of the present, the happiness of having you, my 
 loye! I believe we have a sunny future before us 
 — but we will not speak of the future. United, 
 devoted, independent, rich — how much enjoyment 
 life offers us; we will travel and see the world, 
 the great, beautiful world. Beautiful so long as it 
 rests in peace, and there seems now no prospect of 
 war; and if there were, you are no longer obliged 
 to serve, and Rudolph is in no danger, as he will 
 not become a soldier." 
 
 " But suppose, as Minister ' Upon the Whole ' re- 
 ports, every man is liable to duty?" 
 
 "Nonsense; but what I meant to say was, we 
 will travel, give Rudolph a model education and — 
 we love each other." 
 
 The carnival of the same year brought with it 
 balls and entertainments of all sorts. Naturally 
 we took no part— my mourning kept me far from 
 everything of the sort What surprised me was 
 the zest with which society threw itself into every 
 amusement. There must have been a loss by 
 death in every family; but it seemed as though 
 they had mastered grief. It is true a few houses 
 remained closed, especially among the aristocracy, 
 but the young people lost no opportunity to dance, 
 and of course those who had returned safely from 
 the Italian or Bohemian battlefields were great 
 favorites; but the officers of the navy were courted 
 the most — especially those who had seen service at 
 Lissa. Half the women were in love with Tegethoff, 
 the youthful admiral, (just as they were with the 
 
330 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 handsome General Gablenz after the campaign 
 of Schleswig-Holstein). " Custozza" and "Lissa," 
 they were the two trumps which were played in 
 every conversation upon the past war. Next in 
 order were the needle gun and militia service, two 
 institutions to be introduced as speedily as pos- 
 sible to secure future victories. Victories — when 
 and over whom? Of that no one had any partic- 
 ular idea; but the idea of revenge which every 
 person who has lost — even if only at a game of 
 cards — is accustomed to promise himself, pervaded 
 all the promises of politicians. If we did not our- 
 selves choose to move against Prussia, perhaps 
 there were others who would take it upon them- 
 selves to revenge us. From appearances, France 
 would close an alliance with us, and much was 
 prophesied in diplomatic circles of a " Revenge 
 for Sadowa," so our old friend, Minister " Upon 
 the Whole " reported. 
 
 In the early part of the following spring one of 
 those famous " black spots " again appeared on the 
 political horizon. The matter in dispute was Lux- 
 emburg. 
 
 Luxemburg? How in the world could that be 
 so important? I began to study again, as I had in 
 earlier years endeavored to master the Schjeswig- 
 Holstein question. The name had no meaning for 
 me beyond that suggested in Luppe's " Jolly Stu- 
 dent," where a " Count of Luxemburg wastes his 
 money — wastes it, wastes it." The result of my 
 investigation was as follows: 
 
 According to the treaties of 1814 and 1816 Lux- 
 emburg belonged to the King of the Netherlands 
 and at the same time to the German Bund. Prus- 
 sia had the right to maintain a garrison in the 
 capital. Now, as Prussia had broken with the 
 Bund in 1866, how could it maintain its right to 
 garrison? That was the irritating question in dis- 
 pute. The Treaty of Prague had recognized the 
 new system in Germany, and with this recognition 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 231 
 
 the old position of Luxemburg as a part of the 
 Bund must be abandoned. Why, then, did Prussia 
 maintain her right to garrison? The Hollanders 
 never set great value upon the possession of the 
 Grand Duchy; King William III. did not care for 
 it and was willing enough to deliver it up to France 
 for a certain amount, to go into his private purse. 
 Secret negotiations began between the King and 
 the French Cabinet. Quite right; secrecy is the 
 kernel of all diplomacy. The people must not 
 know anything of the differences; if matters come 
 to blows they have the right to shed their blood. 
 Why they shed it is of no consequence to them. 
 
 At the end of March the King officially reported 
 his negotiations, and when he telegraphed his ac- 
 ceptance to France the Prussian embassador at 
 the Hague was informed of it. Thereupon explana- 
 tions began with Prussia. Prussia fell back upon 
 the guaranties of the Treaty of 1859, the same upon 
 which Holland relied. Public opinion in Prussia 
 was outraged that ancient Germany was disrupted. 
 Who is that — this public opinion? Is it the writer 
 of the leading editorials? In the North German 
 Parliament fiery resolutions were passed. Bis- 
 marck remained perfectly cool in regard to Lux- 
 emburg; he took occasion, however, to make prepa- 
 rations for war with France, which in turn made 
 similar preparations. Oh! how I recognized this 
 melody! At that time I was in terror of a fresh 
 outbreak in Europe. Of instigators of mischief 
 there was no lack: in Paris Cassagnac and Emile 
 de Girardin; in Berlin Menzel and Heinrich Leo. 
 One wonders if such fire-brands have any idea of 
 the gigantic character of their criminality. I can 
 scarcely believe it. It was about this time, though 
 I did not know it until years later, that Professor 
 Simon had a conversation with the Crown Prince 
 Frederick of Prussia upon the disturbing question 
 of the day. 
 
 " ' If France and Holland have already made terms, that 
 would indicate war.' 
 
233 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 " Whereupon the Crown Prince, in the greatest excite- 
 ment and with intense feeling, replied: 
 
 " ' You have never seen war; if you had seen it you 
 could not utter the word so indifierently. I have seen it 
 and I say to you, it is the highest duty to avoid it when 
 it is possible to do so.' " 
 
 This time it was avoided. A conference was held 
 in London, which agreed upon a peaceful solution 
 of the difficulty. Luxemburg was declared neutral 
 ground and Prussia withdrew her garrison. The 
 friends of peace breathed freely, but there were 
 people enough to be found who complained of this 
 arrangement — not the Emperor of the French, who 
 wished for peace, but the French war party. Voices 
 were raised in Germany, which muttered about 
 "the surrender of a bulwark," and the like. But 
 every private individual who informed himself as 
 to the judgment of the conference was satisfied. 
 What this London conference had attained could 
 always be secured, and the rulers of states, by thus 
 avoiding war, could perform what Frederick III., 
 Frederick the Noble, declared to be their highest 
 duty. 
 
 In May we went to Paris to see the great Expo- 
 sition. 
 
 I had not yet seen the great cosmopolitan city, 
 and the brilliancy of its life dazzled me. The em- 
 pire was in the full flush of its existence, and many 
 of the crowned heads of Europe had gathered 
 there. It did not impress me as the capital of one 
 country, but as a great international city. Three 
 years later it was bombarded by its eastern neigh- 
 bor. All the nations of the earth had collected all 
 they could offer in this great tournament of indus- 
 try; so much that was wonderful, useful, or artis- 
 tic was brought together, that every observer must 
 have felt pride in the enormous progress of the 
 time in which he lived; and with this pride must 
 have been connected the hope that such develop- 
 ment of civilization would no more be threatened 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 233 
 
 by the brutality of destruction. All the guests of 
 the Emperor and Empress, kings, princes, and di- 
 plomatists, could not in the midst of accepted hos- 
 pitalities, festivities, and congratulations, expect 
 very shortly to exchange shots with their enter- 
 tainers. No; I breathed easily. This whole brill- 
 iant Exposition was to me the pledge of a new 
 era, the beginning of long, long years of peace. 
 At the most it could only be an attack of Mongo- 
 lian hordes which could make all these civilized 
 nations draw the sword; but against each other — it 
 was not to be thought of. My impressions were 
 deepened by the intelligence brought us of a favor- 
 ite plan of Napoleon III. — a general disarmament. 
 Yes, Napoleon was then determined— I have been 
 assured of it by his nearest friends and advisers — 
 that at the earliest suitable opportunity he would 
 present a plan to all European powers for reducing 
 their armed force to a peace footing. That was a 
 more sensible idea than general disarmament. The 
 well known postulate of Kant would then be ful- 
 filled, which is formulated in paragraph third of 
 the "Preliminary Articles to Perpetual Peace": 
 
 "Standing armies must in time entirely cease to exist. 
 They are a continual menace to other states, and by their 
 apparent preparation will incite neighboring nations to 
 range themselves in arras, a condition of things which 
 will know no limits, and which, through the increased 
 cost of maintaining peace, will become more oppressive 
 than a short war; thus becoming a cause of war to escape 
 this burden.'' 
 
 What government could refuse a suggestion 
 made by France without unmasking itself as de- 
 sirous of conquest? And what nation would not 
 revolt against such an idea? The plan must suc- 
 ceed. 
 
 Frederick did not agree with me in my antici- 
 pations. 
 
 "First of all, I doubt whether Napoleon III. 
 cherishes any such plan, and if he did the pressure 
 of the war party is too strong for him to resist it. 
 
234 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 And besides, the occupants of thrones are hindered 
 by the great public opinion of their surroundings. 
 In the second place one existent body will not 
 allow itself to be ordered in this wise: 'Nothing 
 for you, nothing for me.' It will take up arms at 
 once." 
 
 " Of what body do you speak?" 
 
 "The regular army. This is an organization 
 independent and capable of supporting itself. At 
 present this organization is in the heighth of its 
 power, and as you see — through the general militia 
 system to be introduced in all countries — is even 
 on the point of extending its influence." 
 
 "And yet you will fight against this spirit? 
 
 "Yes, but not by marching up to it and exclaim- 
 ing: 'Die, monster!' for upon such an invitation 
 the creature will scarce do me the pleasure to 
 stretch itself out before me. But I wage war 
 against it when I am striving for the growth of 
 different, though now but a feeble order of life, 
 which as it develops will press the other out of 
 existence. For my metaphorical style of speech, 
 you, Martha, are responsible. It was you who in- 
 troduced me to the works of the modern scien- 
 tists. I have learned to reason that the conditions 
 of social life can only be understood, and their 
 future course predicted, when we grasp the truth 
 that they stand subject to the influence of the 
 inexorable law of development. Of this, politi- 
 cians and dignitaries of state have not the remotest 
 conception, and the much vaunted military class 
 of course none at all. A few years ago I myself 
 had not reached this appreciation of truth." 
 
 We lived in the Grand Hotel on the Boulevard 
 des Capucines. It was filled for the most part by 
 Englishmen and Americans. Our own countrymen 
 we rarely met; the Austrians are not fond of trav- 
 eling. We did not seek acquaintances; I had not 
 laid aside my mourning. My son Rudolph was of 
 course with us. He was eight years old and aa 
 exceedingly clever little man. We had engaged 
 
"GROUND ARMSI" 235 
 
 a young Englishman, who occupied the double 
 position of tutor and nursery maid. During our 
 long visits to the Exposition we could not take 
 Rudolph with us, and the time for instruction had 
 come for him. 
 
 New — new — new was the whole great world as 
 here displayed! People from all quarters of the 
 globe, the richest and most famous — I was fairly 
 bewildered by it. But interesting and enchanting 
 as it all was, I longed for the quiet and peace of 
 my own home, with my husband and children — 
 for I again awaited the joy of becoming a mother — 
 just as when we are shut out from the world we 
 long for its stirring activity and life. 
 
 We had not entered society We had called 
 upon our embassador, Metternich, and declined 
 his offer to present us at court. We sought the 
 acquaintance, however, of the most noted politi- 
 cians and literary men, partly from personal inter- 
 est, but largely to forward in every way the aim 
 and object of Frederick's life. We occupied our- 
 selves when at home in the collection of what 
 we called a " Peace Protocol " — a sort of sketchy 
 account for future use of the gradual growth of 
 the anti-war sentiment. A feeble protest it was 
 indeed, compared with the tons of war literature, 
 but if there were no seed sown there could be no 
 harvest. When one remembers this one need not 
 fear the future. 
 
 Four hundred years before Christ, Aristophanes wrote 
 a comedy, " Peace," in which the humane tendency is 
 apparent. 
 
 Greek philosophy — later transplanted to Rome — sug- 
 gested and defended the struggle for the unity of man- 
 kind. The idea was upheld from the time of Socrates, 
 who called himself a citizen of the world, down to that 
 of Terence, who was a "stranger to nothing human," 
 and including Cicero, who declared the caritas generis 
 humani the highest grade of perfection. 
 
 Next in time Virgil appeared with his famous Fourth 
 Eclogue, that shepherds' poem, which represents the 
 
236 "GROUND ARMSl" 
 
 world enjoying eternal peace under the mythological 
 image of the Golden Age. 
 
 During the Middle Ages the popes frequently offered 
 themselves as arbitrators between states, but generally in 
 vain. 
 
 In the fifteenth century George Podiebrad, King of 
 Bohemia, conceived the idea of organizing a league of 
 peace. He was anxious to end the struggles between the 
 Pope and the Emperor, and appealed to Louis XI. of 
 France, who declined to join him. 
 
 At the close of the sixteenth century Henry IV. of 
 France suggested a plan for a European federation. 
 After he had relieved his own kingdom from the horrors 
 of a religious war, he wished to secure peace and toler- 
 ance for the future. He proposed to unite the sixteen 
 states in which Europe was then divided (Russia and 
 Turkey were considered a part of Asia) in one common 
 federation. Each of the sixteen states was to send two 
 members to a European parliament; these thirty-two 
 members were to secure religious toleration and settle all 
 international disagreements. As each state would pledge 
 itself to abide by the decision of parliament, all danger of 
 war would disappear. The King imparted his plan to his 
 minister Sully, who received it with enthusiasm and 
 began negotiations with other states. Elizabeth of Eng- 
 land, the Pope, Holland, and several others, agreed to 
 join the league; Austria refused because certain territo- 
 rial concessions were, demanded. A campaign seemed 
 necessary to defeat this opposition. France organized an 
 army with the declaration that the sole purpose of the 
 war was in the interest of future peace. Henry was 
 on the point of setting out to take command when he 
 was murdered by an insane monk. 
 
 None of his successors and no future sovereign took 
 up this plan for securing the happiness of their subjects. 
 Regents and politicians remained faithful to the old war 
 spirit, but the thinkers of all countries never lost sight of 
 the idea. 
 
 In the year 1647 the sect of the Quakers was organized, 
 whose foundation idea was the condemnation of war. 
 The same year William Penn published his work upon 
 the future peace of Europe, which is in the main the plan 
 of Henry IV. 
 
 At the beginning of the eighteenth century appeared 
 the famous book " La Paix perpetuelle," by the Abbe de 
 St. Pierre. About the same time a Landgrave of Hesse 
 developed the same plan and Leibnitz wrote a favorable 
 commentary upon it. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 237 
 
 Voltaire is the author of the expression, " Every Euro- 
 pean war is a civil war." Mirabeau, in the famous ses- 
 sion of the twenty-fifth of August, « 790, says the follow- 
 ing.: 
 
 " Perhaps the hour is not far distant when Freedom as 
 absolute sovereign of both worlds will fulfill the wish of 
 the philosophers: relieve mankind from the crime of war 
 and proclaim eternal peace. Then the happiness of the 
 people will be the sole object of the legislature, the sole 
 glory of the nations." 
 
 In the year 1795 Immanuel Kant, one of the greatest 
 thinkers of all time, wrote his treatise upon " Eternal 
 Peace." The Englishman Bentham joined the ranks of 
 the representatives of peace, followed by Fourier, Saint- 
 Simon, and others. Beranger wrote: " The Holy Alliance 
 of Peoples" ; Lamartine his " La Marseillaise de la Paix." 
 In Geneva Count Cellon organized a peace union, in whose 
 name he began a propaganda correspondence with all 
 European powers. From America the learned black- 
 smith, Elihu Burritt, scattered his " Olive Branches " and 
 " Sparks from an Anvil " in pamphlets throughout the 
 world, and was the chairman of a convention of English 
 friends of peace. At the Paris congress, which put an 
 end to the Crimean war, the diplomatists conceived an 
 idea in the interest of peace, when they introduced a 
 clause into the treaty, by which the powers pledged 
 themselves to consider conditions of peace before the 
 beginning of future conflicts. Thjs clause is the germ 
 of the idea of international jurisdiction, but was never 
 observed. 
 
 In the year 1863 the French government proposed to 
 call a congress of the powers, to consider the means of 
 bringing about general disarmament and a combined 
 agreement to avoid future wars. 
 
 Few were the pages of my note-book. Later 
 many were added to it. They only prove that the 
 possibility of the peace of the world has not for 
 centuries been entirely unconsidered. Here and 
 there the voices have been heard, sometimes with 
 long periods of time between, but never wholly 
 silenced, though often unnoticed and unheard. It 
 has from time immemorial been the same with all 
 progress, all development, all discovery and all 
 invention: 
 
338 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 " From the south land spring approaches. 
 At her coming, far and near 
 Feeble twitterftigs in the branches 
 
 Swell in chorus full and clear. 
 So, within time's great cathedral, 
 
 Midnight watchers wait the hour, 
 And the sweet chime's silvery summons; 
 Then the music bursts in power." 
 
 (Mdrzroth^ 
 
 Again my hour of trial approached. 
 
 But this time the husband was at my side — his 
 proper place — where through his gentleness and 
 his sympathy the suffering of the wife may be miti- 
 gated. The thought that he was with me made me 
 almost forget my pain. 
 
 A girl! That had been our quiet wish. We 
 knew, through our little Rudolph, the joy a son 
 might bring us, and that our little Sylvia would 
 become a model of beauty, cleverness, and sweet- 
 ness, we did not doubt. 
 
 How selfish happiness makes us! A time fol- 
 lowed when all else was forgotten outside our own 
 domestic heaven. The terrors of the cholera week 
 faded into a dream-like remembrance, and Fred- 
 erick's energy in pursuit of his idea waxed some- 
 what faint. It was, in truth, discouraging when- 
 ever one broached the subject to be met by shrugs 
 of the shoulder, a sort of pitying smile, and even 
 condemnation. The world prefers, it seems, to be 
 not only deceived, but made unhappy. When one 
 proposes a means to put an end to misery and suf- 
 fering one is met by " Utopia!" "a childish dream!" 
 and no one will listen. 
 
 But after all Frederick never lost sight of his 
 ideal. He became absorbed in the study of human 
 rights, opened a correspondence with Bluntschli, 
 and projected the writing of a great work to be 
 called " War and Peace." 
 
 " I am an old imperial officer," he said, " and 
 most men belonging to my rank and station would 
 be ashamed to begin to learn and study — a man of 
 my age generally considers it beneath his dignity. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 239 
 
 But as a new point of view was opened to me after 
 I became imbued with the modern spirit, I was 
 oppressed by my lack of knowledge. Now as the 
 opportunity was not granted me in my youth, I 
 must make up for the loss, even if I have silver 
 threads in my hair." 
 
 The winter after Sylvia's birth we spent quietly 
 in Vienna. In the following spring we visited 
 Italy. To know the world belonged to our pro- 
 gramme of life. Traveling with little children is 
 something of a burden, but with a sufficient number 
 of attendants it becomes possible. I had sent for 
 an old servant who had been the nurse of my 
 sisters, And who had subsequently married and 
 become a widow. 
 
 Frau Anna was worthy of the utmost confidence, 
 and with her I could safely leave my little Sylvia 
 when Frederick and I undertook little journeys 
 from our temporary headquarters. Rudolph was 
 also safe with his tutor, Mr. Foster. 
 
 Lovely, beautiful days! It is a pity I kept no 
 record of them. 
 
 I had the opportunity to add one bright page to 
 our Protocol. It was a newspaper article signed 
 " Desmoulins " in which a proposition was made 
 that the French government set the example to 
 European states of disarmament. 
 
 " By this means France will secure the alliance and 
 friendship of all nations, who will then cease to fear her 
 whose help they need. General disarmament will natur- 
 «lly follow, the principle of conquest will be abandoned, 
 <ind the confederation of states will agree to an inter- 
 dational court of justice, empowered to consider all ques- 
 tions which are now deemed cause of war. By such a 
 course France would secure the only real durable power 
 — that founded on right — and a new era would be opened 
 to humanity." — Opinion Nationale, 25 July, 1868. 
 
 No influence was exerted by this article. 
 
 In the winter of 1868-9 we returned to Paris, 
 and this time plunged into the great world of 
 society. 
 
240 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 It was an enjoyable though sometimes wearisome 
 season. We had rented a small furnished house in 
 the Champs filysees, where we could entertain our 
 various friends, by whom we were daily invited 
 to numerous social events. Our embassador pre- 
 sented us at court and we became frequent guests 
 at the Monday receptions of the Empress. The 
 salons of all the foreign embassadors were open to 
 us, as well as those of the Princess Mathilde, the 
 Duchess de Mouchy and Queen Isabella of Spain. 
 All the literary notabilities of the time were enter- 
 tained at our house, all except the greatest — Victor 
 Hugo — who was in exile. But we knew Renan, the 
 two Dumas, George Sand, and others. We went to 
 a masque ball given by the author of "Les Grandes 
 Dames," Arsene Houssaye. It was his custom to 
 give a Venetian masquerade once during the season 
 in his superb little hotel in the Avenue Friedland, 
 where, under the protection of a masque, the so- 
 ciety women of the upper ranks had the oppor- 
 tunity of seeing the noted actresses and singers in 
 all the brilliancy of their diamonds and their wit. 
 
 In the whirl of so fascinating a place of amuse- 
 ment it is so easy to forget all except this heartless 
 and thoughtless life. We forget that the real world 
 lies outside of all this, and domestic happiness is 
 too apt to be shipwrecked. But we were deter- 
 mined not to lose our hold upon our own hearth- 
 stone, nor our deep interest in universal interests. 
 
 Much sympathy was always expressed in Paris 
 society with Austrians. Allusions were frequently 
 made to a possible future revenge for Sadowa, as if 
 the past could ever be made good by revenge. We 
 always rejected such suggestions and assured all 
 that we only desired perpetual peace. 
 
 Such was at this period — so it was said at least — 
 the earnest desire of Napoleon III. We were inti- 
 mately associated with those who surrounded him, 
 when we were assured of this and of his project 
 actually to propose a general disarmament. But 
 the most intense dissatisfaction existed amongst 
 
"GROUND A RMS I" 241 
 
 the people, and close to the Emperor stood a party 
 who considered it impossible to suppress this ex- 
 cept by diverting toward a popular foreign war 
 the dangerous antagonism against the throne — a 
 sort of grand promenade on the Rhine, by which 
 means the Napoleon dynasty was to be secured. It 
 had been very unfortunate that the Luxemburg 
 matter had failed, but it could no longer be made 
 a cause of contention. But that in the long run 
 war between Prussia and France was unavoidable 
 was a mooted question, of which we read in the 
 newspapers but were not influenced by its repeti- 
 tion. 
 
 The brilliant season reached its height in the 
 spring months. It is the time of the drives in the 
 Bois, the exhibition of the salon, the races, the 
 picnics — besides the theatres, receptions, dinners 
 and soir6es, which were not less popular than in 
 winter. We began to long for rest This sort of 
 a life has no charm unless love-making and flirting 
 are added to it. Young ladies, looking for a suit- 
 able match, women who allow men to make love to 
 them, and men hunting an adventure — for all these 
 every new opportunity of meeting the object of 
 one's dreams is eagerly sought — but Frederick and 
 I? That I was faithful to my husband, that no one 
 dared cherish any hopes of my interest, is a matter 
 of course, which I mention without any special vir- 
 tuous pride. Whether, under other circumstances, 
 I should have been able to resist the temptations 
 encompassing a young and pretty woman I do not 
 pretend to say, but when one is possessed by so 
 dfeep and happy a love as I felt for Frederick, one 
 is armed against all danger. 
 
 As summer approached, the "Grand Prize" was 
 won and the different members of society began to 
 leave Paris — some to go to Trouville, to Biarritz 
 and Vichy, others to Baden-Baden, others still to 
 their estates — Princess Mathilde to St. Gratien, the 
 court to Compiegne. We were overwhelmed with 
 
243 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 invitations to join the travelers, and to visit the 
 houses of our friends. But we were determined 
 not to carry the social campaign of the winter into 
 the summer months. I did not desire to return as 
 yet to Grumitz, I feared the awakening of sorrow- 
 ful memories, and on account of our many rela- 
 tives and friends there we could not have secured 
 any privacy. We again chose a quiet spot in Switz- 
 erland for our abiding place. We promised our 
 Parisian friends to return the following winter, and 
 set out upon our journey. 
 
 Europe then seemed careless and quiet. At least 
 there were no " black spots," and we heard no more 
 of a revenge for Sadowa. The greatest annoyance 
 was that the general military service was then in- 
 troduced in Austria. That Rudolph should ever 
 become a soldier was unendurable to me. And peo- 
 ple will talk about liberty! 
 
 " A year a volunteer," Frederick said to comfort 
 me; "that is not much." 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 " Not if it were but a day. No human being 
 should be compelled to a service which he detests, 
 even for a day, for on this day he must assume to 
 do with delight what he abhors — in short, he must 
 lie — and I mean to train my son for the truth." 
 
 " Then he ought to have been born a few cen- 
 turies later! " replied Frederick. " It is true one 
 cannot be an entirely free man. Truth and free- 
 dom have a hard lot in our day — that I realize the 
 deeper I go in my studies." 
 
 Frederick now had more time to devote to his 
 special work, and he renewed it with redoubled 
 zeal. Happy as we were in our quiet nest, we 
 were determined to return to Paris in the winter, 
 not to enjoy ourselves as before, but to devote 
 ourselves to the object of our lives. We built all 
 our plans upon the furtherance of the idea of the 
 Emperor Napoleon, and hoped to get his ear 
 through our friends. Frederick desired to direct 
 his attention to the plan of Henry IV., which he 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 243 
 
 had found narrated at length in Sully's Memoirs; 
 at the same time we hoped, through the Minis- 
 ter of Finance, our old friend, to secure the atten- 
 tion of the government of Austria, and Frederick 
 had in Berlin a relative of influential position, pop- 
 ular at court, through whom it might be brought 
 to the consideration of Prussia. 
 
 In December, when we were about to return to 
 Paris we were somewhat hindered. Our treasure 
 — our little Sylvia — was taken ill. Those were anx- 
 ious hours, and with the fear of the death of our 
 child, Napoleon III. and Henry IV. stepped into 
 the background. 
 
 But she did not die. At the end of two weeks 
 all danger was over. But it was not safe to travel 
 and our departure was delayed until March. 
 
244 "GROUND ARMSl" 
 
 SIXTH BOOK. 
 
 1870-71. 
 
 PRESENTIMENTS? There are none. Were it 
 otherwise, Paris could never have made such 
 a delightful impression upon me as it did that 
 sunny afternoon of March, 1870, when we again 
 entered it. We know to-day what frightful events 
 followed close upon that time, but I felt then not 
 the slightest misgiving. 
 
 Before our arrival we had engaged the same little 
 palace which we had occupied the preceding year, 
 and the same maitre d" hotel greeted us at the sta- 
 tion. As we crossed the Champs Elysees we met 
 numerous acquaintances, for it was the hour for 
 driving in the Bois — and exchanged cordial saluta- 
 tions. The many little violet carts, which at this 
 time of the year are rolled about the streets of 
 Paris, filled the air with a thousand promises of 
 spring; the sunbeams sparkled and played with 
 all the colors of the rainbow in the fountain of 
 the circle, and glittered on the lamps and silver- 
 trimmed harness of the procession of carriages. 
 Among others, the beautiful Empress drove by 
 waving her hand to me in recognition. 
 
 There are certain scenes and pictures which pho- 
 tograph and phonograph themselves upon the mem- 
 ory with their accompanying feelings and words. 
 "How beautiful Paris is!" exclaimed Frederick, 
 and my feelings were those of childish delight at 
 the prospect of again living in this most charming 
 spot. Had I but known what awaited me — what 
 fate held in store for this thoughtless, brilliant city! 
 
 We had determined to avoid for this season the 
 gay society into which we had plunged the few 
 last months of our preceding visit. We declined 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 245 
 
 all invitations to balls and visited the theatre but 
 rarely, and so it chanced that our evenings were 
 spent at home alone, or with some few friends who • 
 sought us there. 
 
 It was claimed that Napoleon III. had not aban- 
 doned his plan, but the time was not ripe for it. 
 The throne was not, at best, on the surest founda- 
 tions, and great dissatisfaction prevailed among 
 the people. To prevent an outbreak all police reg- 
 ulations were sternly enforced — which only excited 
 greater distrust. The only thing, the people were 
 accustomed to say, which would secure the dynasty 
 was a fortunate campaign. There seemed no pros- 
 pect of war, but there was no more talk of disarma- 
 ment; that would have utterly destroyed the halo 
 surrounding the Bonapartes, which depended upon 
 the inherited glory of the great Napoleon. We 
 heard no encouraging report either from Prussia or 
 Austria. It was the era of general increase of the 
 armed force (the word army had become unfash- 
 ionable), so that the suggestion of disarmament 
 fell only upon deafened ears. To insure peace it 
 appeared to be necessary to arm more men; the 
 French were not to be trusted, neither were the 
 Russians, nor most of all the Italians; they would 
 fall upon Trieste and Trent, if they had half an 
 opportunity — in short, the thing to do was to push 
 the universal military-service system. 
 
 "The time is not yet ripe," said Frederick, when 
 we received such reports; " and the hope that I 
 personally may hasten the development of the idea 
 of the peace of nations I must probably abandon. 
 But from the hour that I dedicated myself to this 
 work, even the little I could do became to me the 
 most important. I bide my time." 
 
 If for the present the project of disarmament 
 had to go by the board, I still had one satisfac- 
 tion: there was no immediate prospect of war. The 
 war party at court and among the people, which 
 asserted that the dynasty should be re-baptized in 
 blood, must give up all present hope of a cam- 
 
246 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 paign on the Rhine boundaries. France had no 
 allies; the country suffered from a severe drought; 
 • a failure of crops was anticipated and forage was 
 scarce; the horses of the army must be sold, the 
 contingent of recruits was declared unnecessary, 
 there was nowhere any political complication; in 
 short, Ollivier took occasion to declare from the 
 rostrum: "The peace of Europe is assured." 
 
 Assured! I rejoiced over this word. All the 
 papers repeated it and many thousands rejoiced 
 as I did. What greater good can be found for 
 most men than the certainty of peace? 
 
 What this security was worth, which was so 
 emphatically assured us by a noted statesman, we 
 all know now. We ought then to have known that 
 these diplomatic assertions which the public receive 
 with such simple confidence are no surety of truth. 
 The European situation presents no doubtful ques- 
 tion; therefore peace is assured. What feeble logic! 
 Disturbing questions may be made to turn up any 
 day; the point would be to be prepared for some 
 other method of settlement than through war; then 
 we should be safely beyond the possibility of it. 
 
 Again Parisian society was scattered to the four 
 winds of heaven. We remained in town on ac- 
 count of business. We had the opportunity of 
 purchasing at an exceedingly profitable price a 
 new, half-completed hotel in the Avenue de I'lm- 
 peratrice. As we intended to spend a portion of 
 every year in Paris we preferred to own a home. 
 With the fascinating prospect ahead of furnishing 
 our own nest and completing the house according 
 to our mind we were content to spend the summer 
 in town. 
 
 Many pleasant friends owned country houses 
 in the neighborhood of Paris. The palace of the 
 Princess Mathilde, St. Gratien, the Palace Mouchy, 
 and Baron Rothschild's home, Ferrieres, were at no 
 great distance, and once or twice a month we vis- 
 ited them all. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 247 
 
 I distinctly remember it was in the parlors of 
 the Princess that I first learned that there was 
 another doubtful question floating in the air. 
 
 The party sat upon the terrace — after breakfast 
 a la fourchette — with a charming view of the park. 
 Who were there? Some I cannot remember; only 
 two made a particular impression upon me — Taine 
 and Renan. The intellectual hostess of St. Gratien 
 loved to surround herself with distinguished liter- 
 ary and scientific personages. 
 
 The conversation was animated, and I remember 
 that it was Renan chiefly who led the bright and 
 witty talk. The author of "The Life of Jesus" is 
 a remarkable example of how one can be incon- 
 ceivably ugly and at the same time inconceivably 
 fascinating. 
 
 Politics had its turn, for the Spanish throne was 
 vacant. It was said that a prince of Hohenzollern 
 was a candidate. I scarcely noticed even the name, 
 for of what possible consequence could it be to 
 any of us, who sat upon the Spanish throne. But 
 some one said: 
 
 " A Hohenzollern? France will not tolerate that." 
 
 The remark cut me to the heart, for too well 
 I knew what this "not tolerate" always meant. 
 When that is said in the name of a nation, one 
 sees in imagination the spirit of the country per- 
 sonified as a gigantic female statue, with her head 
 thrown back defiantly and her hand on the sword 
 hilt.. 
 
 The subject was idly discussed and soon dropped, 
 for not one of us could have the least presentiment 
 of the fearful results of this question of the Spanish 
 succession. 
 
 From this time on the Spanish question became 
 more and more obtrusive. Daily the newspapers 
 increased the space allotted to its discussion; most 
 of them regarded it as an intentional provocation 
 of war on the part of Prussia. Letters from Berlin, 
 however, assured us that at court it was not re- 
 garded as of any importance whether a Hohenzol- 
 lern occupied the Spanish throne or not. 
 
348 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 Gradually we, too, became more attentive to the 
 course of events. Like the rustle of the branches 
 of trees before a storm, there was a premonitory 
 murmur among the people. Nous aurons la guerre — 
 nous aurons la guerre ! resounded through the Pari- 
 sian streets. Then I was seized with unspeakable 
 terror — not on my own account, for we Austrians 
 were beyond the reach of ill, though much was 
 said to us about revenge for Sadowa. But we had 
 forgotten to consider war from a national stand- 
 point; for us the humane, the broad international 
 view was the only possible one. 
 
 When the news arrived that Prim had offered 
 the crown to Prince Leopold, the Duke de Gram- 
 mont made an address in the French Chamber, 
 which was received with great applause: 
 
 " We do not interfere in foreign affairs, but we do not 
 believe that a respect for the rights of a neighboring state 
 requires us to tolerate the attempts of a strange power 
 to set a prince upon the throne of Charles V., a measure 
 which would disturb the balance of power of all Europe 
 (O this balance of power ! what blood-thirsty diplomatic 
 hypocrite invented this hollow phrase?), and thus put 
 the interests and honor of France in danger." 
 
 I know a little story by George Sand, called 
 " Gribouille." This Gribouille had the habit of 
 throwing herself into the river at the approach of 
 rain for fear of getting wet. When I hear that 
 war must be carried on in order to ward off threat- 
 ened danger I think of Gribouille. A whole race 
 of HohenzoUerns could have been set upon the 
 throne of Charles V., and a dozen other thrones, 
 without disturbing the interests or honor of France, 
 or doing one thousandth part of the damage which 
 arose from this defiant " We cannot tolerate." 
 
 "We feel certain,'' continued the speaker, "that this 
 event will not occur. We count in this respect upon the 
 wisdom of the German and upon the friendship of the 
 Spanish people. Should it happen otherwise, then, gen- 
 tlemen, we shall understand how, through your support 
 and that of the nation, to do our duty without hesitation 
 and without timidity." [Storms of applause.] 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 249 
 
 From now on the war mania possessed the public 
 press. It was Girardin, particularly, who could 
 scarce do enough to fire the hearts of his country- 
 men against the unheard-of impudence which was 
 at the very bottom of this Spanish proposition. It 
 would be the duty of France, in order to maintain 
 her dignity, to put a veto upon it; naturally Prus- 
 sia would not refrain even then, for it was her 
 interest to foment war. Inflamed by the success 
 of the campaign of 1866, Prussia now believed it 
 possible to march over the Rhine to new conquests; 
 but we are here, God be praised, to stem the pas- 
 sions of the pointed helmets. In this tone he kept 
 it up. Napoleon III. himself wished for peace; 
 but those about him were mainly of the opinion 
 that war was unavoidable, especially as the people 
 were dissatisfied with the government. The best 
 that could be done to restore confidence was a suc- 
 <;essful campaign. 
 
 One after the other European cabinets declared 
 themselves to be in favor of peace. In Germany 
 a manifesto was published, signed by Liebknecht 
 among others, wherein it was declared that the 
 very thought of a war between France and Ger- 
 many was a crime. Through this circular I became 
 aware " that a great association existed of a hun- 
 dred thousand members, whose object was the abo- 
 lition of all injurious tendencies and prejudices of 
 classes and of the nation." All this was in the 
 line of modern thought, -and the little sentence 
 could be added to my peace protocol. 
 
 Benedetti was entrusted with the mission to de- 
 mand of the King of Prussia that he forbid Prince 
 Leopold to accept the crown. King William was 
 at that time in Ems; Benedetti went there, and on 
 tl^e ninth of July was granted an audience. 
 
 The reply of the King was that as the Prince 
 had arrived at years of discretion he could not for- 
 bid his doing anything. 
 
 This answer threw the war party into spasms 
 of delight. "They are determined to drive us to 
 
250 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 extremities. How absurd! The head of the house 
 cannot command the obedience of a member? it is 
 a mere excuse. The Hohenzollerns are determined 
 to get possession of Spain and then they will fall 
 upon us from the north and south. Are we to wait 
 for that? Are we to endure the humiliation that 
 our protest is not respected? Never! we know what 
 honor, what patriotism demands." 
 
 Louder and louder, more and more threatening 
 muttered the approaching storm. At last, on the 
 twelfth of July, a despatch was published which 
 filled me with delight. Don Salusto Olozaga offi- 
 cially informed the French government that Prince 
 Leopold of Hohenzollern, in order that there might 
 be no pretext for war, had declined the Spanish 
 crown. The announcement was made at twelve 
 o'clock in the Chamber, and OUivier declared that 
 this was the end of the matter. On the same day, 
 however (apparently the result of previous orders), 
 troops and materials were despatched to Metz, and 
 during the same session Clement Duvernois made 
 the following interpellation: 
 
 " What security have we that Prussia will not again stir 
 up complications similar to this pretension to the Spanish 
 crown? We must be prepared to meet them." 
 
 Gribouille again bestirred herself: It is just pos- 
 sible — a little rain threatens to make us wet; let 
 us jump into the river as quickly as possible. 
 Again Benedetti was despatched to Ems to de- 
 mand that the King of Prussia at once and for the 
 future, forbid Prince Leopold from again present- 
 ing himself as a candidate. Was it possible under 
 such provocation for the king to do otherwise than 
 impatiently to shrug his shoulders? 
 
 On the fifteenth of July there was a remarkable 
 session. Ollivier requested an appropriation of five 
 hJndred millions for the war. Thiers voted against 
 it. Ollivier replied that he would be responsible to 
 history. The King of Prussia had declined to re- 
 ceive the French embassador, who had by despatch 
 informed the government of this fact. The Left 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 251 
 
 demanded to see the despatch. The majority tu- 
 multuously and by vote forbade the publication of 
 this despatch (which probably had no existence). 
 The majority granted everything the government 
 asked. Such patriotic willingness for sacrifice, 
 which without a shudder welcomes ruin, was nat- 
 urally immensely admired and described with all 
 the euphonious, ready-made, customary phrases. 
 
 England made an attempt to prevent the war. 
 In vain; if there had been a recognized interna- 
 tional court of jurisdiction how easily this conflict 
 might have been avoided. 
 
 On the nineteenth of July, the French embas- 
 sador in Berlin presented the formal declaration 
 of war to the Prussian government. 
 
 A declaration of war! We speak of it so coolly. 
 What does it mean? The beginning of an action, 
 the result of political intrigue, and incidentally the 
 sentence of death of half a million human beings. 
 
 This document I copied into my red note-book: 
 
 " The government of his Majesty, the Emperor of the 
 French, could only consider the elevation of a Prussian 
 prince to the throne of Spain as an undertaking danger- 
 ous to the territorial security of France, and has there- 
 fore found it necessary to demand of the King of Prussia 
 the assurance that a similar combination will not receive 
 his support in the future. Since his Majesty declined to 
 give tins assurance, and, on the contrary, declared to our 
 embassador that he reserved to himself the right of in- 
 quiry into such possible events, the imperial government 
 must recognize in this declaration of the King a sup- 
 pressed intention, which is threatening to France and the 
 balance of power in Europe (there it is again, this famous 
 balance of power). This declaration has become of more 
 serious character through the report communicated to 
 the ministry of the refusal to receive the Emperor's 
 plenipotentiary and enter into further discussion of the 
 subject (so it seems that a more or less friendly inter- 
 course between regents and diplomatists settles the fate 
 of peoples). As a result of this course the French gov- 
 ernment considers it its duty without delay to think of the 
 defense (yes, yes, defense — never attack) of its outraged 
 dignity and its outraged interests. Determined to adopt 
 
352 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 all measures to this end, which are offered it by existing 
 circumstances, it considers itself from now on in the con- 
 dition of war with Prussia." 
 
 Condition of war! Does he who sitting at the 
 diplomatic table sets this word down on paper 
 realize that he has dipped his pen in flames, in 
 bloody tears, in the poison of disease? 
 
 So on account of a vacant throne seeking an 
 occupant, and the consequent carefully nursed, un- 
 reasonable dissensions between two monarchs, the 
 storm was brought upon us. Was Kant right 
 when he set down, as the first definite stride to in- 
 sure continual peace, that: 
 
 " The civil constitution of every state should be repub- 
 lican." 
 
 In truth, through the introduction of this system 
 many causes of war would disappear, for history 
 records that the great majority of wars are under- 
 taken to settle some question of dynasty, and that 
 all establishment of monarchical power rests upon 
 martial conquest. Republics have made war to 
 maintain national life. But in any case it is the 
 old, barbaric spirit still, the taint of heredity, not 
 yet over-mastered by development, which fans the 
 flame of hate, and of love of victory and conquest. 
 
 I remember the peculiar frame of mind which 
 took possession of me when this war broke out. 
 The whole population was in a ferment and who 
 could escape the infection? Naturally, according 
 to old custom, the beginning of the campaign was 
 regarded as a triumphant march; that is, of course, 
 a patriotic duty. '■'■ A Berlin, a Berlin!" resounded 
 through the streets and was chanted from the tops 
 of the omnibuses; the Marseillaise was heard on 
 every corner: Le jour de gloire est arrive ! At every 
 theatrical performance the leading actress or singer 
 — at the opera it was Marie Sass — must appear 
 before the curtain in the costume of Joan of Arc 
 and, carrying the national colors, must sing this 
 battle song — the audience rising and generally 
 joining in the chorus. Frederick and I realized 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 253 
 
 one evening the might of this popular enthusiasm, 
 and were compelled to rise to our feet — compelled 
 because we were electrified. 
 
 "See, Martha," exclaimed Frederick, "this spark 
 which spreads from one to another, uniting this 
 whole mass and making every heart beat higher, 
 is love " 
 
 " Do you believe so? It is a song inspiring hate." 
 
 "That makes no difference; a common hatred is 
 but another form of love. When two or three or 
 more are bound together by the same feeling, they 
 love one another. When the time arrives for a 
 nobler, broader aspiration than the interests of 
 nationality, namely, the cause of humanity, then 
 our ideal will be attained." 
 
 "Ah, when will that time come?" I sighed. 
 
 " When? One can speak but relatively. As a 
 length of time compared with our personal exist- 
 ence — never; when compared with the existence of 
 our race — to-morrow." 
 
 When war breaks out the inhabitants of neutral 
 states divide into two camps; one siding with this, 
 the other with that party, as if there were a great 
 stake in which every one had a share. We were 
 unconsciously influenced by our earlier interests. 
 Frederick was of Prussian descent and the Ger- 
 man language was my own. The declaration of war 
 had been made by the French on such insignificant 
 grounds — mere pretenses — that we must recognize 
 the cause of the Prussians as more justly repre- 
 senting that of defense, since they were forced into 
 the contest. It was inspiriting to note with what 
 enthusiasm the Germans, but so shortly before at 
 strife among themselves, now trooped together. 
 
 On the nineteenth of July, in his address from the 
 throne. King William said: 
 
 " The German and French nations, both in like degree 
 enjoying the blessings of Christian civilization and in- 
 creasing prosperity, are called to a more beneficent rivalry 
 than the bloody one of arms. But the ruler of France, 
 
254 ' ' GRO UND ARMS I " 
 
 instigated by personal interests and passions, has been 
 able, through misleading statements, to excite the justi- 
 fiable though excitable vanity of our great neighbors." 
 
 The Emperor Napoleon on his part issued the 
 following proclamation: 
 
 "Because of the arrogant claims of Prussia we were 
 obliged to protest. These protests have been met with 
 ridicule. Events followed which indicated a contempt 
 for us. Our country has been deeply incensed thereby 
 and instantly the battle-cry has been heard from one end 
 of France to the other. There is nothing to be done 
 except to consign our fate to the lot drawn by war. We 
 do not war against Germany, whose independence we 
 respect. We have the most earnest desire that the peo- 
 ple who compose the great German nation may be the 
 arbiters of their own destiny. What we desire is the 
 establishment of a condition of things which will insure 
 our present security and make our future safe. We de- 
 sire a permanent peace, founded upon the true interests 
 of peoples; we wish that this miserable condition should 
 end and that all nations use all possible means to secure 
 general disarmament." 
 
 What a lesson, what a striking lesson this docu- 
 ment is when we consider it in connection with the 
 events which followed. In order to be sure of 
 safety, in order to attain permanent peace this war 
 was begun by France. And what was the result? 
 " The Terrible Year" and enduring hatred. No, no; 
 one does not use charcoal to paint a thing white, 
 nor asaf oetida to perfume a room, nor war to secure 
 peace. 
 
 I could not believe that the war would be a long 
 one. What were they fighting about? Really 
 nothing at all. It was a sort of grand parade 
 undertaken by the French from a spirit of advent- 
 ure — by the Germans as a duty of defense. One 
 might expect a few saber thrusts, and the antago- 
 nists would again shake hands. Fool that I was! 
 As if the results of war bore any adequate rela- 
 tion to its cause. The course of it determines the 
 result. 
 
 We would have gladly left Paris, for the enthu- 
 
"GROUND ARM SI" 255 
 
 siasm of the population pained us immeasurably. 
 But the way eastward was blocked; our house was 
 not completed — in short, we remained. All of our 
 acquaintances who could get away had fled, and 
 excepting a few literary men, we had no visitors. 
 Frederick was much interested at just this phase 
 of the war to note the sentiment among the most 
 noted of these men. A young writer, the later 
 famous Guy de Maupassant, once expressed my 
 own feelings so perfectly that I entered his words 
 in my journal: 
 
 " War — when I think of this word I shudder as if one 
 talked of the Inquisition, or of a distant, horrible, unnat- 
 ural thing. War — to kill one another, cut each other 
 down! And we have to-day — in our times, with our cul- 
 ture, with our extensive knowledge in the higher planes 
 of development, which we flatter ourselves to have at- 
 tained — we still have schools to teach men how to kill, to 
 kill in the most scientific manner and as many as possible. 
 
 It is wonderful that the people do not rise against this 
 thing, that the whole of society does not revolt at the 
 mere mention of war. He who rules is in duty bound 
 to avoid war, as the captain of a ship is bound to avoid 
 shipwreck. When a captain loses his ship he is required 
 to answer for it, in case it is discovered that he has been 
 remiss in duty. Why should not every government be 
 called to account when it declares war? If the people 
 understood how to refuse to allow themselves to be 
 killed without just cause, war would cease." 
 
 Ernest Renan, also, let us hear from him: 
 
 " Is it not heart-breaking to think that all that we men 
 of science have sought to accomplish the past fifty years 
 is destroyed at a blow: the sympathy between peoples, 
 the mutual understanding, the fruitful, united work? 
 How such a war destroys the love of truth! What lies, 
 what defamation of a nation will from now on, for the 
 next fifty years, be believed by each of the other and 
 divide them for an incalculable time! How it will retard 
 the progress of Europe! We cannot build up in a hun- 
 dred years what these men have torn down in one day." 
 
 I also had the opportunity of reading a letter 
 which Gustave Flaubert wrote during those first 
 July days to George Sand. Here it is: 
 
256 "GROUND ARMS I" 
 
 "I am in despair at the stupidity of my countrymen. 
 The incorrigible barbarism of humanity fills me with the 
 deepest grief. This enthusiasm inspired by not one rea- 
 sonable idea makes me long to die that I may not witness 
 it. Our good Frenchmen will fight: first, because he 
 believes himself called out by Prussia; secondly, because 
 the natural condition of man is that of barbarism; thirdly, 
 because war possesses a mystical element which carries 
 mankind away. Have we returned to a war of races? I 
 am afraid so. The horrible battles which we prepare for 
 have not a single pretext to excuse them. It is simply 
 the pleasure of fighting for fighting itself. I regret the 
 bridges and tunnels that will be blown to pieces, all this 
 superb work of man which will be destroyed. I notice 
 that a member of the Chamber proposes the plundering 
 of the Grand Duchy of Baden. Ah, I wish I were with 
 the Bedouins." 
 
 "Oh!" I cried, as I read this letter, "if we had 
 only been born five hundred years later — that 
 would be better than the Bedouins." 
 
 " Mankind will not take so long to become rea- 
 sonable," replied Frederick confidently. 
 
 It was now again the era of proclamations and 
 army orders. 
 
 Always the same old song, and always the same 
 enthusiasm and applause of the populace. There 
 was the same rejoicing over promised victories as 
 if they had been already won. 
 
 On the twenty-eighth of July Napoleon III. pub- 
 lished the following proclamation from his head- 
 quarters in Metz. I copied this, not out of admi- 
 ration, but because of anger over its everlasting 
 hollow phrases: 
 
 " We defend the honor and soil of our native land. 
 We will be victorious. Nothing is too great for the 
 sturdy endurance of the soldiers of Africa, the Crimea, 
 China, Italy, and Mexico. Once more they will show 
 what a French army inspired by a love of country is 
 capable of accomplishing. Whichever way we turn out- 
 side of our borders we find the marks of the valor of our 
 fathers. We will prove ourselves worthy of them. Upon 
 our success hangs the fate of freedom and civilization. 
 Soldiers, do your duty, and the God of Battles will be 
 with you." 
 
"GROUND ARMSl" 257 
 
 Oh, of course, it would not do to leave out " the 
 God of Battles." That the leaders of vanquished 
 armies have a hundred times promised the same, 
 does not prevent the claim of special protection 
 being set up at every fresh campaign in order to 
 awaken the same confidence. Is anything shorter 
 than the memory of a people or anything feebler 
 than their logic? 
 
 On the thirty-first of July King William left 
 Berlin and issued the following manifesto: 
 
 " To-day, before I leave to join the army, to fight with 
 it for the honor and preservation of all dearest to us, I 
 proclaim a general amnesty for all political offenses. My 
 people know that we were not guilty of enmity and breach 
 of faith. But being attacked we are resolved, as were 
 our fathers, in firm reliance upon God, to endure the 
 struggle for the rescue of our country." 
 
 Defense, defense, that is the only dignified sort 
 of death; therefore both sides cry: "I defend my- 
 self." Is that not a contradiction? Not quite — 
 for over each a third power rules, the might of the 
 old hereditary war spirit. If they would only de- 
 fend themselves against that! 
 
 Next to the above-mentioned manifesto I find 
 in my note-book a curious story with this singular 
 heading: 
 
 " If OUivier had married the daughter of Meyerbeer 
 would this war have broken out? " 
 
 Among our Parisian acquaintances was the lit- 
 erary man, Alexander Weill, who asked the above 
 question and answered it in the same breath: 
 
 "Meyerbeer sought a talented husband for his 
 second daughter and his choice fell on my friend, 
 Emile Ollivier. Ollivier is a widower. His first 
 wife was a daughter of Liszt. This marriage was 
 a happy one and Ollivier had the reputation of 
 being a faithful husband. He had no fortune, but 
 as an orator and statesman he was famous. Mey- 
 erbeer wished to know him personally, and with 
 this object I gave a ball — in April of the year 1864 
 — where most of the celebrities of art and science 
 
258 "GROUND ARMSl" 
 
 were assembled, and where Ollivier, who had been 
 informed by me of Meyerbeer's object, naturally 
 played the leading rdle. He pleased Meyerbeer. 
 The affair was not easy to manage. Meyerbeer 
 knew the independent originality of his daughter, 
 who could never be induced to marry a man except 
 of her own free choice. It had been decided that 
 Ollivier should go to Baden as if by chance, and 
 should be presented to the young lady, when four- 
 teen days after the ball Meyerbeer suddenly died. 
 It was Ollivier, you remem'ber, who delivered the 
 funeral oration at the Northern Railroad station. 
 Now, I insist that if Ollivier had married Meyer- 
 beer's daughter this war would never have oc- 
 curred. In the first place, Meyerbeer, who hated 
 the empire to the verge of contempt, would never 
 have allowed Ollivier to become a minister of the 
 Emperor. We all know that if Ollivier had threat- 
 ened to resign if war were declared, the Chamber 
 would never have declared war. The present con- 
 test is the work of three intimate friends of the 
 Empress: Jerome David, Paul de Cassagnac, and 
 the Duke de Grammont. The Empress, incited by 
 the Pope, whose religious puppet she is, wished to 
 see this war, of whose success she never doubts, 
 in order to secure the succession of her son. She 
 said: ' C'est ma guerre d. mdi et d, mon fils,' and the 
 three above named were the secret tools who, by 
 means of false rumors and pretended despatches 
 from Germany, had compelled the Emperor, who 
 wished for peace, to consent to fight. The Cham- 
 ber was ready to declare war, at any rate." 
 
 "That is called diplomacy!" I exclaimed. 
 
 " But hear the rest," continued Alexander Weill. 
 "On the fifteenth of July, Ollivier, whom I met 
 on the Place de la Concorde, said to me: 'Peace is 
 certain — or else I will resign.' How does it happen 
 that the same man, a few days later, instead of 
 sending in his resignation, supports the war with 
 all his heart, as he declared in the Chamber? " 
 
 "A frivolous heart!" I cried with a shudder. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 359 
 
 "This is the secret, which I will tell you. The 
 Emperor, who regards gold as of no value except 
 to buy love and friendship — he believes, like Jugur- 
 tha of Rome, that all France is corrupt, men as well 
 as women — is accustomed, when he appoints a min- 
 ister who is not rich, to make him a present of a 
 million of francs to bind him to himself. Daru, 
 who told me this, would not accept this present: 
 timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. And he alone, not 
 being bound, tendered his resignation. So long as 
 the Emperor vacillated, Ollivier declared himself 
 neutral or for peace. So soon as the Emperor was 
 over-persuaded by the Empress and her three 
 ultramontane agents, Ollivier also declared him- 
 self for war and died to honor with a light heart 
 and a full purse." 
 
 "O Monsieur, O Madame, what news!" With 
 these words Frederick's valet and the cook behind 
 him rushed into our sitting-room. It was the day 
 of the Battle of Worth. 
 
 "A despatch has arrived. The Prussians are as 
 good as absolutely crushed. The city is being 
 decorated with tri-colored flags, it will be illumi- 
 nated to-night." 
 
 In the courseof the afternoon further despatches 
 proved that the first was false — a maneuver of the 
 Bourse. Ollivier addressed a crowd from the bal- 
 cony of his house. Fortunately we escaped the il- 
 lumination, this method of expressing delight over 
 beaten armies, — that is to say, over countless dead 
 and crippled, and thousands of broken hearts, the 
 bare thought of which moved me to wish with 
 Flaubert that I were with the Bedouins. 
 
 On the seventh of August there was a rumor of 
 disaster. The Emperor hastened from St. Cloud 
 to the seat of war. The enemy had crossed the 
 frontier and was marching inland. The papers 
 could not express their indignation in strong 
 enough terms. I had imagined that the shout a 
 Berlin! meant a similar invasion. But that these 
 
260 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 eastern barbarians should dare the same thing — 
 should march into beautiful and beloved France — 
 this seemed pure, audacious villainy, and must be 
 stopped at once. 
 
 The provisional Minister of War published an 
 order calling upon all able-bodied citizens between 
 thirty and forty years of age to enroll themselves in 
 the National Guard. A ministry for defense of the 
 interior was organized. The appropriation was 
 increased from five hundred to a thousand million 
 of francs. It is refreshing to notice how free the 
 authorities are with the money and lives of others. 
 An unpleasant little occurrence disturbed the con- 
 venience of the public; if one wanted to change a 
 bank-note he was obliged to pay a broker ten per 
 cent. There was not sufficient gold to keep the 
 notes of the Bank of France at par. 
 
 Now followed victory after victory on the part 
 of the Germans. 
 
 The aspect of Paris and its inhabitants under- 
 went an astonishing change. In the place of the 
 proud, boastful, war-loving humor, dismay and 
 vindictive anger appeared. The impression that 
 a horde of vandals were ready to devour the land 
 was widespread. That the French had called 
 down this storm upon themselves -they never con- 
 sidered; or that they had done it to prevent some 
 Hohenzollern in the distant future from conceiv- 
 ing a fancy for the Spanish throne — that they also 
 forgot. The most astonishing stories were told 
 of the ferocity of the invaders, " The Uhlans, the 
 Uhlans!" the words had a sort of fantastic demo- 
 niac sound, as if they had talked about the armies 
 of Satan. In the imagination of the people these 
 troops became demons. Whenever a particularly 
 bold stroke was reported it was- at once ascribed 
 to the Uhlans. They were said to be recruited 
 to serve for booty and without pay. Mixed up 
 with these recitals of terror were stories of occa- 
 sional triumphs. To lie about success is naturally 
 the chief duty of the sensationalist, for of course 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 261 
 
 the courage of the populace must be kept up. The 
 law of veracity — like many other laws of morality 
 — loses its force in times of war. Frederick read 
 to me from the Le Volontaire, the following, to be 
 inscribed in my note-book: 
 
 " Up to the sixteenth of August the Germans have 
 lost one hundred and forty-four thousand men, the re- 
 mainder are on the verge of starvation. The reserves 
 from Germany, the ' landwehr ' and ' landsturm,' are arriv- 
 ing; old men of over sixty, with flint-lock muskets, carry- 
 ing on one side a huge tobacco pouch, on the other 
 a big flask of brandy, with a long clay pipe in the mouth, 
 are staggering under the weight of the knapsacks, coffee- 
 mills, and packages of elderberry tea. Coughing and 
 groaning, they are crossing from the right to the left bank 
 of the Rhine, cursing those who have torn them from 
 the arms of their grandchildren to thrust them into the 
 clutches of death. The reports we get from the German 
 press of victorious battles are all the usual Prussian lies." 
 
 On the twentieth of August Count Palikao in- 
 formed the Chamber that three army corps, which 
 had united against Bazaine, had been thrown into 
 the quarries of Jaumont. It is true no one had the 
 remotest idea where these stone quarries were, or 
 how it happened that the three army corps were 
 kept there. From tongue to tongue the joyful tid- 
 ings spread and everybody acted as if they had been 
 born in the region of Jaumont and of course knew 
 all about the quarries. At the same time there 
 was a current report that the King of Prusgia had 
 become insane over the condition of his army. 
 
 All sorts of atrocities were reported; the. excite- 
 ment among the population increased hourly. The 
 engagement of Bazaille near Metz was described 
 as if the Bavarians had been guilty of most inhu- 
 man barbarity. 
 
 " Do you believe this? " I said to Frederick. " Do 
 you believe these stories of the good-natured Bava- 
 rians? " 
 
 " They are possible. Whether a man is Bavarian 
 or Turk, German, French, or Indian makes no par^ 
 ticular difference; when he takes his life in his 
 
263 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 hands and fights to destroy others he ceases to be 
 human. All that is awakened and strongest within 
 him is the beast." 
 
 Metz is taken. The report resounded through 
 the city like a shriek of terror. 
 
 To me the news of the capture of a fortress 
 brought relief rather than dismay. Were we not 
 probably nearer the end? But after every defeat 
 each side strains itself to the utmost for a fresh 
 trial of strength; possibly the fortune of war may 
 turn. Usually the advantage is first on one side 
 next on the other; on both sides there is certain 
 sorrow and certain death. 
 
 Trochu felt himself called upon to arouse the 
 courage of the population by a fresh proclamation, 
 calling upon them with the motto of Bretagne, 
 "With God's help for our native land." That does 
 not sound quite new to me — I must have heard 
 something similar to it in other proclamations. It 
 did not fail of its effect, however; the people were 
 encouraged. Next we were told Paris must be 
 fortified. Paris a fortress! I could scarcely grasp 
 the thought. The city which Victor Hugo called, 
 " la ville-lumiere", th.& loadstar of the whole civil- 
 ized, rich, art- and life-loving world, the radiating 
 point of splendor, of fashion, of the intellect — this 
 city must fortify itself, that is, must be the aim of 
 the enemy's attacks, the target of bombardment, 
 and run the risk of destruction through fire and 
 hunger. And these people proceeded to the work 
 with gaiety of heart, with the zeal of pleasure, with 
 self-sacrifice, as if they were bringing to completion 
 the noblest, most useful work in the world. Ram- 
 parts to be manned by infantry were built with em- 
 brasures, earthworks were thrown up before the 
 gates, canals were covered, and surmounted by par- 
 apets, powder magazines were built, and a flotilla of 
 barges, carrying cannon, was put upon the Seine. 
 What a fever of activity; what an expenditure of 
 strength and nerve; what monstrous cost of labor 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 263 
 
 and money! If all had only been so cheerfully and 
 nobly devoted to works of true utility; — but for 
 the purpose of destruction, which had no object 
 except that of a strategic checkmate, it was incon- 
 ceivable! 
 
 To be prepared for a long siege the city was 
 amply provisioned. But it is the experience of 
 ages that no fortification has existed which has 
 been impregnable — capitulation is solely a matter 
 of time. Yet fortifications are still erected, they 
 are still provisioned, notwithstanding the mathe- 
 matical impossibility of maintaining them, in the 
 long run, against starvation. 
 
 The preparations were made on an enormous 
 scale. Mills were erected and stockyards filled; 
 yet the hour must come when the corn would all 
 be ground and the flesh all eaten. But so far ahead 
 as this no one thought; of what use? Long before 
 that the enemy would be driven from the country. 
 The entire male force of the city was enrolled in 
 the National Guard and all possible were drawn 
 from the country. What difference did it make if 
 the provinces were laid in ashes? Such insignifi- 
 cant events were not to be considered, when there 
 was prospect of a national disaster. On the seven- 
 teenth of August sixty thousand provincial troops 
 had already arrived in Paris. The sailors were all 
 ordered in, and daily new companies were organ- 
 ized under different names, such as volontaires, Mair- 
 eurs, or franc-tireurs. 
 
 With an ever-increasing activity events followed 
 events. All around there was heard but one ex- 
 pression, " death to the Prussians." A storm of 
 the wildest hatred was gathering — it had not yet 
 broken out. In all the official reports, in all the 
 street disturbances we heard of but one aim — 
 "death to the Prussians." All these troops, regu- 
 lar and irregular, all these munitions of war, all 
 these busy workmen with spade and barrow, all 
 that one saw and heard, in form or tone, surged 
 
364 "GROUND ARIi^SJ" 
 
 and threatened "death to the Prussians!" Or, in 
 other words, it sounds really like the cry of love 
 and inspires even tender hearts — " all for one coun- 
 try " — but it is one and the same thing. 
 
 "You are of Prussian descent," I said to Fred- 
 erick one day, " how do these expressions of hatred 
 affect you? " 
 
 " You asked me the same question in the year 
 1866, and then I answered, as I must to-day, that I 
 suffer under these demonstrations of hatred, not as 
 a Prussian, but as a man. When I reflect upon the 
 feelings of these people from a national stand- 
 point, I can only regard them as justifiable; they 
 call it the sacred hatred of the enemy, and this 
 sentiment forms an important incentive to military 
 patriotism. They have but one thought — to free 
 their country from the presence of the antagonist. 
 They forget that they caused the invasion by their 
 declaration of war. They did not do it themselves, 
 but it was their government in which they believed. 
 They waste no time in reflections or in recrimina- 
 tions; the misfortune is upon them and every mus- 
 cle, every nerve is strained to meet it, or with reck- 
 less self-sacrifice they will all go to destruction 
 together. Believe me, there is untold capacity in 
 the love of mankind; the pity of it is that we waste 
 it in the old rut of hatred. And the enemy, the 
 'red-haired, eastern barbarians!' — what are they 
 doing? They were called out and they invade the 
 land which threatened theirs. Do you remember 
 how the cry, a Berlin, h Berlin, resounded through 
 the streets?" 
 
 "Now the others march upon Paris! Why do 
 the Parisian shouters call that a crime?" 
 
 " Because there is neither logic nor justice in that 
 national feeling whose chief principle is, we are 
 we — that is, the first, — the others are barbarians. ' 
 That march of the Germans from victory to victory 
 fills me with admiration. I have been a soldier 
 and know what an inspiration the idea of victory 
 has, what pride, what intense delight. It is the 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 365 
 
 reward for all suffering, for the renunciation of rest 
 and happiness, for the life at stake." 
 
 "Why do not the victors admire the vanquished, 
 if they know all that victory means to those who 
 are soldiers like themselves? Why do not the army 
 reports of the losing party contain the sentence: 
 the enemy has won a glorious victory? " 
 
 "Why? I repeat, the war spirit and patriotic 
 egotism are the destruction of all justice." 
 
 On the twenty-eighth of August all Germans 
 were ordered to leave Paris within three days. I 
 had the opportunity to see the effect of this order. 
 Many Germans had been citizens of Paris for ten 
 and twenty years, had married Parisians, but were 
 now compelled to leave everything — home, business 
 and property. 
 
 Sedan! The Emperor had surrendered up his 
 sword. The report overpowered us. Then truly 
 a terrible catastrophe had occurred — Germany had 
 won and the butchery was over. 
 
 " It is over," I cried. " If there are people who 
 are citizens of the world, they may illuminate their 
 windows; in the temples of humanity Te Deums 
 can now be sung — the butchery is over." 
 
 " Do not rejoice too soon," Frederick warned 
 me. "This war has long lost the character of a 
 battle game of chess, the whole nation is in arms. 
 For one army destroyed ten new ones will spring 
 out of the soil." 
 
 "Is that just? These are only German soldiers, 
 not the German nation." 
 
 "Why always talk of justice and reason in the 
 presence of a madman. France is mad with pain 
 and terror, and from the standpoint of the love 
 of country her rage is just, her sorrow sacred. 
 Personal interest is not considered, only the loftiest 
 self-sacrifice. If the time would only come when 
 the noble virtues common to humanity could be 
 torn from the work of destruction and united for 
 the blessing of the race! But this unholy war has 
 
366 ''GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 again driven us back a long way from the attain- 
 ment of this goal." 
 
 " No, no, I hope the war is at an end." 
 
 " If so, which I much doubt, the seeds of future 
 wars are sown and the seeds of hate, which will 
 outlast this generation." 
 
 On the fourth of September another great event 
 occurred. The Emperor was deposed and France 
 was declared a republic. With the destruction of 
 the throne the leaves were torn out of the book of 
 France which told the story of Metz and Sedan. 
 It was Napoleon and his dismissed generals, who 
 through cowardice, treachery, and bad tactics had 
 been responsible for all this disaster — but not 
 France. France would now carry on the war if 
 the Germans still dared to continue the invasion. 
 
 " How would it have been had Napoleon and 
 his generals been victorious? " I asked when Fred- 
 erick told me this latest news. 
 
 " Then they would have accepted his success as 
 the success of France."' 
 
 " Is there any justice in that? " 
 
 " Why will you not break yourself of the habit 
 of asking that question?" 
 
 My hope that with Sedan the war would end was 
 soon dissipated. The frenzied orations, the atro- 
 cious pamphlets which were now made and pub- 
 lished, and rained down upon the unfortunate Em- 
 peror and Empress and the unlucky generals, were 
 absolutely disgusting. The rough masses held that 
 they could lay upon these few the responsibility 
 for the general disaster. The preparations for the 
 defense of Paris were carried on with rapidity. 
 Houses which might serve as protection to the 
 approaching enemy were torn down and the region 
 around the city became a desert. Crowds of 
 country people filled up the already crowded city, 
 and the streets were jammed with the wagons and 
 pack horses of these people, laden with the remains 
 of their household goods. I had seen the same 
 sight in Bohemia, and now was fated to see the 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 367 
 
 like misery and a similar terror in the beautiful 
 streets of the most wonderful, most brilliant city 
 of the world. 
 
 There came at last the news of the prospect of 
 better things. Through the mediation of England 
 an interview was arranged between Bismarck and 
 Jules Favre. There was the chance that peace 
 might be arranged. 
 
 On the contrary, the breach became much wider. 
 For some time past German papers had suggested 
 the retention of Alsace-Lorraine. The former Ger- 
 man provinces were to be annexed. The histori- 
 cal argument was not quite tenable, therefore the 
 strategical reason was made more prominent: as a 
 rampart they were absolutely necessary in case of 
 future wars. It is well known that the strategic 
 grounds are the most important, the most incon- 
 testible — the ethical reasons must take second 
 rank. On the other hand, as France had lost 
 in the struggle, was it not fair that the winner 
 should hold the prize? In case of the success of 
 the French, they of course would have claimed the 
 provinces of the Rhine. What is war for except 
 for the extension of the territory of the one or the 
 other antagonist? 
 
 In the meantime the victorious army did not halt 
 in its march on Paris, — the Germans were already 
 at her door. The consent to the cession of Alsace- 
 Lorraine was officially demanded. In response the 
 well known reply was given: " Not an inch of our 
 territory — not a stone of our fortresses." 
 
 Yes, yes — a thousand lives — not an inch of earth. 
 That is the foundation principle of the patriotic 
 spirit. "They seek to humiliate us!" cried the 
 French patriots. " We would rather be buried 
 under the ruins of Paris." 
 
 We attempted to leave the city. Why should 
 we stay among a people so embittered by hate 
 that they clenched their fists if they heard us speak 
 German. We had succeeded in making arrange- 
 ments for departure, when I was seized by a nerv- 
 
268 "GROUND ASMS!" 
 
 ous fever of so dangerous a character that the 
 family physician forbade any attempt at removal. 
 
 I lay upon my bed for many vsreeks, and only a 
 dreamy recollection of that time re'mains. In the 
 careful hands of my husband and the tender care 
 of my children, my Rudolph and my little Sylvia, 
 all knowledge of the fearful events then occurring 
 was shut out, and when I recovered winter had 
 set in. 
 
 Strassburg had been bombarded, the library 
 destroyed; four or five shots a minute were said to 
 have been fired — in all, one hundred and ninety- 
 three thousand, seven hundred and twenty-two. 
 
 Should Paris be starved into submission or bom- 
 barded? 
 
 Against the last the conscience of civilization 
 protested. Should this " ville-lumiire," this ren- 
 dezvous of all nations, this brilliant seat of art, 
 with its irrecoverable riches and treasures be bom- 
 barded as any common citadel? It was not to be 
 thought of; the whole neutral press, I learned after- 
 wards, protested. The press of Berlin approved 
 the idea; considered it the only way to end the 
 war and conquer the city. No protest availed, and 
 on the twenty-eighth of December the bombard- 
 ment began. 
 
 At first greeting it with terror, it was not long 
 before the Parisians chose for a promenade the 
 localities from which one could best hear the 
 music of cannon. Here and there a shell fell in 
 the street, but there was seldom a consequent 
 catastrophe. Rarely could any news from the out- 
 side world be obtained, and that only through car- 
 rier pigeons and balloons. The reports were most 
 contradictory; one day we were informed of suc- 
 cessful sallies, the next, that the enemy was about 
 to storm the city, set fire to it, and lay it in ashes; 
 or we were assured that rather than see one Ger- 
 man enter within the walls the commandant would 
 blow all Paris into atoms. 
 
"GROUND ARMSI" 269 
 
 It became daily more and more difficult to ob- 
 tain food. Meat was not to be had; cattle and 
 sheep and horses were exhausted, and the period 
 began when dogs, cats, rats, and mice were a rarity, 
 and finally the beloved elephant at the Jardin des 
 Plantes must be served up. Bread was scarce. 
 People stood in rows, hours at a time, in front of 
 the bakers in order to receive their tiny portion. 
 Disease broke out, induced by famine. The mor- 
 tality increased from the ordinary eleven hundred 
 a week to between four and five thousand. 
 
 One day Frederick came into the house from his 
 daily walk in an unusual state of excitement. 
 
 " Take up your note-book, my zealous historian," 
 he cried. " To-day there is wonderful news." 
 
 "Which of my books?" I asked. "My Peace 
 Protocol?" 
 
 Frederick shook his head. 
 
 "Oh, for that the time is past. The war now 
 being carried on is of so mighty a character that 
 it will drag its martial spirit long after it. It has 
 sown broadcast such a store of hatred and revenge 
 that future battle harvests must grow therefrom; 
 and upon the other side it has produced for the vic- 
 tors such magnificent revolutionary results that a 
 like harvest may be brought about by their haughty 
 martial spirits." 
 
 " What is it that is so important? " 
 
 " King William has been proclaimed Emperor at 
 Versailles. There is now really a Germany, one 
 single empire — and a mighty one. That is a new 
 event in the world's history. And you can easily 
 perceive how this great result will redound to the 
 honor of the work of war. ' The two most ad- 
 vanced representatives of civilization on the conti- 
 nent are the ones who from now on for some time 
 to come will cultivate the war spirit — the one in 
 order to return the blow, the other in order to 
 maintain the position won; here out of hate, there 
 out of love; here from a spirit of retaliation, on 
 the other side out of gratitude. Shut up your 
 
270 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 peace protocols — for a long time to come we shall 
 stand under the bloody and iron sign of Mars." 
 
 " Emperor of Germany! " I cried, " that is in- 
 deed glorious. I cannot help rejoicing over this 
 news. The whole barbarous slaughter has not 
 been in vain if a great, new empire has been born." 
 
 " From the French point of view the war is 
 doubly lost. And it is to be expected of us that 
 we should not regard this contest from the one- 
 sided German standpoint alone. Not only as hu- 
 man beings but from a narrower national feeling 
 we should be excused if we regretted the success 
 of our enemies of 1866. And yet I will acknowl- 
 edge that the union of divided Germany is a 
 desirable thing, and that the readiness with which 
 all these German princes joined in offering the 
 imperial crown to the gray-haired victor is inspir- 
 ing and admirable. Only it is a pity that this union 
 was not brought about through peaceful rather 
 than warlike measures. It may be that if Napo- 
 leon III. had not made his demand of the nine- 
 teenth of July there would not have been enough 
 patriotism among the Germans to bring about this 
 result. They may well rejoice; the poet's wish is 
 fulfilled — they are a band of brothers. Four years 
 ago they had each other by the throat and knew 
 but one common cause — hatred of Prussia." 
 
 " That word hate makes me shudder." 
 
 "Well it may. So long as this feeling is not 
 regarded as unjust and dishonorable, we shall have 
 no humane humanity. Religious hatred has about 
 disappeared, but national hatreds form a part of 
 the education of the citizen." 
 
 In the quiet of the next few days we had many 
 discussions as to our future. With the establish- 
 ment of peace, which we could now hope for, we 
 might again dare to think of our personal happi- 
 ness. During the eight years of our married life 
 there had been no discord, not a discourteous or 
 unkindly word or thought had passed between us; 
 as the years drew on we knew we should grow 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 271 
 
 nearer to each other, and we could look forward to 
 an old age together — the golden evening of our 
 lives-; — with sure content. 
 
 Many of the preceding pages I have turned over 
 with a shudder. It is not without repulsion that I 
 have recorded my visit to the battlefields of Bohe- 
 mia and the scenes of the cholera week in Grumitz. 
 I have done it as a duty. I had been told: "In 
 case I die first take up my work and do what you 
 can to further the cause of peace among men." 
 
 But I have now reached a point when I cannot 
 go on. 
 
 I have tried; many half-written sheets lie on the 
 floor beside me; but my heart fails and I can only 
 fall to weeping — weeping bitterly like a child. 
 
 Some hours later I again made the attempt. But 
 the particulars of the circumstances it is not possi- 
 ble for me to relate. 
 
 The fact is enough. 
 
 Frederick — myall! was seized by a fanatical mob 
 who, finding a letter from Berlin upon his person, 
 accused him of being a spy. He was dragged 
 before a so-called patriotic tribunal, and on the 
 first of February, 1871, was sentenced to be shot. 
 
372 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 WHEN I again awoke to consciousness peace 
 had been declared, the Commune had been de- 
 feated. For months, attended by my faithful Frau 
 Anna, I lived through an illness without knowing 
 that I was alive. The character of my illness I 
 have never known. Those about me tenderly called 
 it typhus, but I believe it was simply insanity. 
 
 Dimly I remember that the latter part of the 
 time seemed filled with the rattling of shot and the 
 falling of burning walls; probably my fancies were 
 influenced by the actual events, the skirmishes 
 between the communists and the party of Ver- 
 sailles. 
 
 That when I recovered my reason and realized 
 the circumstances of my profound unhappiness I 
 did not kill myself, or that the anguish had not 
 killed me, was owing to the existence of my chil- 
 dren. For these I could, I must live. Even before 
 my illness, on the day when the terrible event 
 occurred, Rudolph had held me to life. I had sunk 
 on my knees, weeping aloud while I repeated: "Die 
 — die! I will die!" Two little arms were thrown 
 around me and a sweet, piteous, pleading, childish 
 face looked into mine: 
 
 "Mother!" 
 
 My little one had never called me anything but 
 Mamma. That he at that moment, for the first 
 time, used the word " Mother," said to me in two 
 syllables: "You are not alone, you have a son who 
 shares your pain, who loves you above all things, 
 who has no one in the world but you. Do not 
 leave your child, Mother! " 
 
 I pressed the precious being to my heart, and to 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 273 
 
 show him that I had understood him I murmured: 
 "My son, my son! " 
 
 I then remembered my little girl — his child — and 
 resolved to live. 
 
 But the anguish was unendurable, and I fell in^o 
 mental darkness. For years — at longer and longer 
 intervals — I was subject to these attacks of melan- 
 choly, of which upon my restoration to health I 
 knew nothing. Now, at length, I have outlived 
 them, and for several years have been free from 
 the unconscious misery, though not from the bitter- 
 est, conscious sorrow. Eighteen years have passed 
 since the first of February, 1871; but the deep an- 
 guish and the deepest mourning, which the trag- 
 edy of that day brought to me, I can never outlive 
 though I should live a hundred years. If, in later 
 times, the days are more frequent when I can take 
 part in the events of the present, can forget the 
 past unhappiness, can sympathize in the joys of 
 my children, not a night passes when I escape my 
 misery. It is a peculiar experience, hard for me 
 to describe, and which can only be understood by 
 those who have similarly suffered. It would seem 
 to indicate a dual life of the soul. If the one is so 
 occupied, when awake, with the things of the outer 
 world as to forget, there yet remains that second 
 nature which ever keeps faithfully in mind that 
 dreadful memory; and this / — when the other is 
 asleep — makes itself felt. Every night at the same 
 hour I awake with this deep depression. My heart 
 seems torn asunder and I feel as if I must relieve 
 my agony in sighs and bitter weeping; this lasts 
 for several seconds, without the awakened / know- 
 ing why the other is happy or unhappy. The next 
 stage is a sentiment of universal sympathy, full of 
 the tenderest compassion : " Oh, poor, poor human- 
 ity! " Then amidst a shower of bullets I see shriek- 
 ing figures fall — and then I remember for the first 
 time that my best-beloved met such a death. 
 
 But in dreams, singular to say, I never realize my 
 loss. It often occurs that I seem to talk with Fred- 
 
374 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 erick as if he were alive. Many circumstances of 
 the past — but no sad ones — are frequently alluded 
 to by us: our meeting after Schleswig-Holstein, our 
 joking over Sylvia's cradle, our walk through Switz- 
 erland, our studies of favorite books, and now and 
 then a certain picture of my white-haired husband 
 in the evening sunset-light, with his garden shears, 
 clipping his roses. " Is it not true," he says to me, 
 smiling, " that we are a happy old couple?" 
 
 My mourning I have never laid aside — not even 
 on my son's wedding day. The woman who has 
 loved, possessed, and lost — so lost — such a man, 
 must feel that love is indeed stronger than death. 
 With this may exist a longing for revenge which 
 can never grow cold. 
 
 But how should I seek revenge? The men who 
 were guilty of the act could not be personally 
 blamed. The sole responsibility rested upon the 
 spirit of war, and this was the only force with 
 which I could attempt — though in a feeble way — 
 to settle my account. 
 
 My son Rudolph shared my views in regard to 
 war — which did not, however, prevent his going 
 into camp for the annual military drill, nor would 
 it hinder his marching over the border, should that 
 gigantic European contest break out which we are 
 all anticipating. I might yet live to see the dearest 
 one left to me sacrificed to this relentless Moloch, 
 and the hearth of my old age fall in ruins. 
 
 Should I live to experience that and again be 
 driven to madness, or should I see the triumph of 
 justice and humanity, for which all nations and 
 alliances of peoples are now striving? 
 
 My red journals are closed, and under date of 
 1871 I marked with a great cross the record of my 
 life. My so-called protocol — my peace record — I 
 have again opened, and of late have added much 
 to the history of the growth of the international 
 idea of the settlement of the strifes of humanity by 
 peaceful methods. 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 275 
 
 For some years the two most influential nations 
 of the continent have been watching each other, 
 both absorbed in thoughts of war — the one in arro- 
 gant review of past successes, the other in burn- 
 ing hopes of revenge. Gradually these sentiments 
 have somewhat cooled, and notwithstanding, or by 
 reason of, the great increase of our standing armies, 
 after ten years the voices petitioning for peace are 
 once more heard. Bruntschli, the great advocate 
 of civil rights, presented the just claims of peace 
 to many influential persons and governments. It 
 was at this time that the silent "Battle-thinker" 
 uttered his well-known dictum, " Eternal peace is 
 a dream, and not even a beautiful dream." 
 
 " Certainly, if Luther had asked the Pope what 
 he thought of his defection from Rome, the answer 
 would not have been particularly reassuring to 
 the reformer," I wrote at the time under Moltke's 
 words. 
 
 To-day there are few to whom this dream of 
 peace seems an impossibility. There are sentinels 
 on every hill, to wake humanity out of its long 
 sleep of barbarism and to plant the white flag. 
 Their battle-cry is "War against war"; their watch- 
 word, "Ground Arms!" The only thing which 
 can now prevent the most appalling disaster to 
 Europe is the universal cry, "Ground Arms!" 
 Everywhere, in England and France, in Italy, in 
 the northern countries, in Germany, in Switzer- 
 land, in America, societies have been formed with 
 the common object to educate public opinion, and 
 by the united expression of popular will to demand 
 of governments that future dissensions shall be 
 submitted to international arbitration, and by so 
 doing to set justice forever in the place of rude 
 force. That this is not the impossible fancy of a 
 dreamer has been proved by facts: by the settle- 
 ment of the Alabama claims, the affair of the Caro- 
 line Islands, and several other threatening ques- 
 tions, which in an earlier period would have been 
 decided only by an appeal to arms. It is not only 
 
276 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 people of no influence and position, but members 
 of Parliament, bishops, scholars, senators, embassa- 
 dors, who stand on the list. To these is added 
 that ever-growing party which will shortly number 
 millions, the party of " Labor " and of the people, 
 upon whose programme the demand for peace is 
 a first condition. 
 
 I lately received the following letter, in reply to 
 a request for information, from the President of 
 the London Peace Society: 
 
 International Arbitration and 
 Peace Association, 
 London, 41 Outer Temple, July, 1889. 
 Madame: 
 
 You have honored me by inquiring as to the actual 
 position of the great question to which you have devoted 
 your life. Here is my answer: At no time, perhaps, in 
 the history of the world, has the cause of peace and good- 
 will been more hopeful. It seems, at last, that the long 
 night of death and destruction will pass away, and we 
 who are on the mountain top of humanity think we see 
 the first streaks of the dawn of the Kingdom of Heaven 
 upon earth. It may seem strange that we should say 
 this at a moment when the world has never seen so many 
 armed men and such frightful engines of destruction 
 ready for their accursed work; but when things are at 
 their worst, they begin to mend. Indeed, the very ruin 
 which these armies are bringing in their train, produces 
 universal consternation, and soon the oppressed people 
 must rise and with one voice say to their rulers: " Save 
 us, and save our children from the famine which awaits 
 us, if these things continue; save civilization and all the 
 triumphs which the efforts of wise and great men have 
 accomplished in its name; save the world from a return 
 to barbarism, rapine, and terror! " " What indications," 
 do you ask, "are there of such a dawn of a better 
 day? " Well, let me ask in reply, is not the recent meet- 
 ing in Paris of the representatives of one hundred socie- 
 ties for the declaration of international concord, for the 
 substitution of a state of law and justice for that of force 
 and wrong, an event unparalleled in history? Have we 
 not seen men of many nations assembled on this occa- 
 sion and elaborating with enthusiasm and unanimity 
 practical schemes for this great end? Have we not seen 
 for the first time in history a congress of representatives 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 277 
 
 of the parliaments of free nations, declaring in favor of 
 treaties being signed by all civilized states, whereby they 
 shall bind themselves to defer their differences to the 
 arbitrament of equity, pronounced by an authorized tri- 
 bunal instead of a resort to wholesale murder? 
 
 Moreover, these representatives have pledged them- 
 selves to meet every year in some city of Europe, in 
 order to consider every case of misunderstanding or con- 
 flict, and to exercise their influence upon governments 
 in the cause of just and pacific settlements. Surely, the 
 most hopeless pessimist must admit that these are signs 
 of a future when war shall be regarded as the most foolish 
 and most criminal blot upon man's record. 
 
 Accept, dear Madame, the expression of my profound 
 respect. Yours truly, 
 
 Hodgson Pratt. 
 
 The international conference to which Mr. Pratt 
 refers met in Paris. Jules Simon presided. In his 
 opening address he said: 
 
 " I am happy to welcome in this hall the authorized 
 representatives of the friends of peace of different na- 
 tionalities. I wish the number were greater, or, more to 
 the purpose, I wish it were much less and not a voluntary 
 but an official, diplomatic congress. But what we cannot 
 nqw carry out by legislative powers we may still make 
 effective by popular education. As members of different 
 states we can make the best use of the greatest power 
 which exists — that power which we were elected to repre- 
 sent. 
 
 " For you must be aware, gentlemen, that the public 
 sentiment of the majority of every nation is on the side 
 of peace." 
 
 There were present at this conference members 
 of the legislative bodies of Denmark, Spain and 
 Italy, who pledged themselves to present to their 
 governments during the next session the proposal 
 for the establishment of an international court of 
 arbitration. 
 
 The next international conference will meet in 
 London in July, 1890. 
 
 I find a royal manifesto in the blue note-book, 
 dated March, 1888 — a manifesto which, so widely 
 different from ancient precedent, breathes a peace- 
 
278 "GROUND ARM SI" 
 
 ful instead of a martial spirit. But the noble man, 
 upon whose word his people could rely, the dying 
 monarch who with his failing powers grasped his 
 scepter which he would use as a palm branch, 
 remained chained to his bed of pain, and in a few 
 short days all was over. 
 
 Will his successor, who pants for great deeds, be 
 inspired by the ideals of peace? Nothing is impos- 
 sible. 
 
 " Mother, will you lay aside your mourning day 
 after to-morrow? " 
 
 With these words Rudolph came into my room 
 this morning. For the day after to-morrow — the 
 thirtieth of July, 1889 — the baptism of his first- 
 born son is to be celebrated. 
 
 " No, my child," I answered. 
 
 " But think, surely at such a festival you will 
 not be sad; why wear the outward sign of sor- 
 row?" 
 
 "And you surely are not superstitious enough 
 to think that the black dress of the grandmother 
 will bring ill-luck to the grandchild? " 
 
 " Certainly not. But it is not suitable to tlie 
 occasion. Have you taken a vow? " 
 
 " No, it is only a quiet determination. But a 
 determination connected with such a memory has 
 all the force of a vow." 
 
 My son bowed his head and urged me no longer. 
 
 " I have disturbed you in your occupation. Were 
 you writing? " 
 
 "Yes — the story of my life. I am, thank God! 
 at the end. That was the last chapter." 
 
 " How can you write the close of your life? You 
 may live many years, many happy years. Mother. 
 With the birth of my little Frederick, whom I will 
 train to adore his grandmother, a new chapter is 
 begun for you." 
 
 " You are a good son, my Rudolph, I should be 
 ungrateful if I had not pride and happiness in 
 you; and I am also proud of my — his sweet Sylvia; 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 279 
 
 yes, I am entering on a happy old age — a quiet 
 evening; but the story of the day is closed at sun- 
 set, is it not? " 
 
 He answered me with a quiet and sympathetic 
 glance. 
 
 "Yes, the word 'end' under my biography is 
 justified. When I conceived the idea of writing it, 
 I determined to stop with the first of February, 
 1871. If you had been torn from me for service in 
 the field — luckily during the Bosnian campaign 
 you were not old enough — I might have been 
 obliged to lengthen my book. As it is, it was 
 painful enough to write." 
 
 "And also to read," answered Rudolph, turning 
 over the leaves. 
 
 " I hope so. If the book shall cause such pain 
 in the reading as to awaken a detestation of the 
 source of all the unhappiness here described, I 
 shall not have tormented myself in vain." 
 
 "Have you examined all sides of the question. 
 Mother? " said my son. " Have you exhausted all 
 the arguments, analyzed to the roots the spirit of 
 war, and sufficiently brought out the scientific ob- 
 jections to it?" 
 
 " My dear, what are you thinking about? I have 
 only written of my life. All sides of the question? 
 Certainly not. What do I, the rich woman of high 
 rank, know of the sorrows which war brings to the 
 mass of the poor? What do I know of the plagues 
 and evil tendencies of barrack life? And with the 
 economic-social question involved I am not familiar 
 — and yet these are all the very matters which 
 finally determine all reformation. I do not offer a 
 history of the past and future rights of nations — 
 only the story of the individual." 
 
 " But do you not fear that the object will be rec- 
 ognized?" 
 
 " One is offended only by the veiled intention, 
 which the author commonly seeks to hide. My 
 aim is open as the day and is found in the words on 
 the title page." 
 
280 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 The baptism took place yesterday. The occasion 
 was made doubly important by the betrothal of my 
 daughter Sylvia and the old friend of her baby- 
 hood — Count Anton Delnitzky. 
 
 I am surrounded by the happiness of my chil- 
 dren. Rudolph inherited the Dotzky estates six 
 years ago and has been married four years to Bea- 
 trice Griesbach, promised to him in their childhood. 
 She is a charming creature, and the birth of their 
 son adds to their enviable, brilliant lot. 
 
 In the room looking out upon the garden the 
 dinner was served. The glass doors were open and 
 the air of the superb summer afternoon streamed 
 in loaded with the perfume of roses. 
 
 Near me sat the. Countess Lori Griesbach, Bea- 
 trice's mother. She is now a widow. Her husband 
 fell in the Bosnian campaign. She has not taken 
 his loss much to heart. On the contrary — for she is 
 dressed in a ruby brocade and brilliant diamonds — 
 she is exactly as superficial as in her youth. Mat- 
 ters of the toilet, a few French and English novels, 
 the usual society gossip — these suffice to fill her 
 horizon. She is as great a coquette as ever. For 
 young men she has now no fancy, but personages 
 of rank and position are the objects of her con- 
 quests. At present, it seems to me, she has our 
 Minister " Upon the Whole" in hand. This gentle- 
 man has now changed his name; we now call him 
 Minister " On the Other Hand," to conform to the 
 latest expression adopted by him. 
 
 " I must make a confession to you," said Lori to 
 me when we had congratulated each other upon our 
 grandchild. " On this solemn occasion I must re- 
 lieve my conscience. I was seriously in love with 
 your husband." 
 
 " You have often told me that, dear Lori." 
 
 " But he was always absolutely indifferent to me." 
 
 "That is well known to me." 
 
 "You had a husband true as gold, Martha! I 
 cannot say the same of mine. But nevertheless I 
 was sorry to lose him. Well, he died a glorious 
 
"GROUND ARMS!" 281 
 
 death, that is one comfort. Really it is a weari- 
 some existence to be a widow, more especially as 
 one grows older — so long as one can flirt widow- 
 hood is not without its compensations. But now 
 I acknowledge I become quite melancholy. With 
 you it is different; you live with your son, but I 
 would not like to live with my Beatrice. She 
 would not wish it either. A mother-in-law in the 
 house — that does not go well; for one wants to be 
 mistress. One gets so provoked with the servants. 
 You may believe me, I am much inclined to marry 
 again. Of course a marriage with some one of 
 position " 
 
 "A Minister of Finance, for instance," I inter- 
 rupted laughing. 
 
 "O you sly one! You see through me at once. 
 Look there: do you see how Toni Delnitzky is 
 whispering to your Sylvia. That is compromising." 
 
 " Let them alone. The two have come to an un- 
 derstanding on the way from church. Sylvia has 
 confided to me that the young man will ask my 
 permission to-morrow." 
 
 "What do you say? Well, I congratulate you. 
 It is said the handsome Toni has been a little gay 
 — but all of them are that — it cannot be helped 
 and he is a splendid match." 
 
 "Of that my Sylvia has not thought." 
 
 " Well, so much the better; it is a charming 
 addition to marriage." 
 
 " Addition? Love is the sum of all." 
 
 One of the guests, an imperial colonel, had 
 knocked on his glass and: "Oh, dear — a toast!" 
 thought all, and discontentedly dropped their 
 special conversation to listen to the speaker. We 
 had good reason to sigh; three times the unlucky 
 man stuck fast and the choice of his good wishes 
 was unfortunate. The health of the young heir 
 was offered, who was born at a time when his coun- 
 try needed all her sons. 
 
 " May he wear the sword as his great-grandfather 
 
282 "GROUND ARMSl" 
 
 and his grandfather did; may he bring many sons 
 into the world, who on their part may be an honor 
 to their ancestry, and as they have done who have 
 fallen, win fame on the field of honor. May they 
 for the honor of the land of their fathers conquer 
 — as their fathers' and fathers' fathers — in short: 
 Long life to Frederick Dotzky!" 
 
 The glasses rattled but the speech fell flat. 
 That this little creature just on the threshold of 
 life should be sentenced to the death-list on a bat 
 tlefield did not make a pleasant impression. 
 
 To banish this dark picture, several guests made 
 the comforting remark that present circumstances 
 promised a long peace, that the Triple Alliance — 
 and with that general interest was carried into the 
 political arena, and our Minister " On the Other 
 Hand " led the conversation. 
 
 " In truth (Lori Griesbach listened with intense 
 interest), it cannot be denied that the perfection 
 which our weapons have attained is marvelous and 
 enough to terrify all breakers of the peace. The 
 law for general service allows us to put into the 
 field, on the first call, four million eight hundred 
 thousand men between the ages of nineteen and 
 forty, with officers up to sixty. On the other hand, 
 one must acknowledge, that the extraordinary at- 
 tendant expenses will be a strain upon the finan- 
 ces. It will be an intolerable burden to the popu- 
 lation; but it is encouraging to see with what 
 patriotic self-sacrifice the people respond to the 
 demands of the war ministry; they recognize what 
 all far-sighted politicians realize, that the general 
 armament of neighboring states and the difficulties 
 of the political situation demand that all other 
 considerations should be subordinated to the iron 
 pressure of military necessity." 
 
 "Sounds like the leading editorial," murmured 
 some one. 
 
 Minister " On the Other Hand " went on calmly: 
 
 " But such a system is surety for the preservation 
 of peace. For if to secure our border, as tradi- 
 
"GRO UND A RMS ! " 283 
 
 tional patriotism demands of us, we do as our 
 neighbors are doing, we are but fulfilling a sacred 
 duty and hope to keep danger far from us. So I 
 raise my glass to the toast in honor of the princi- 
 ple which lies so close to the heart of Frau Martha 
 — a principle dear to the Peace League of Middle 
 Europe — and I call upon all of you to drink to 
 the maintenance of peace! May we long enjoy its 
 blessings!" 
 
 "To such a toast I will not drink," I replied. 
 "Armed peace is no benefaction; we do not want 
 peace for a long time, but forever. If we set out 
 upon a sea voyage, do we like the assurance that 
 the ship will escape wreck for a long time? That 
 the whole trip will be a fortunate one is what the 
 honest captain vouches for." 
 
 Doctor Bresser, our intimate old friend, came to 
 my help. 
 
 " Can you in truth, your Excellency, honestly 
 believe in a desire for peace on the part of those 
 who with enthusiasm and passion are soldiers? 
 How could they find such delight in arsenals, for- 
 tresses, and maneuvers if these things were really 
 regarded merely as scarecrows? Must the people 
 give all their earnings in order to kiss hands across 
 the border? Do you think the military class will 
 willingly accept the position of mere custodians 
 of the peace? Behind this mask — the si vis pacem 
 mask — glitters the eye of understanding, and every 
 member who votes for the war budget knows it." 
 
 "The representatives?" interrupted the minister. 
 " We cannot enough praise the self-sacrifice which 
 they have never failed to exhibit in serious times, 
 and which finds expression in their willingness to 
 vote the appropriations." 
 
 " Forgive me, your Excellency, I would call out 
 to these willing representatives: 'Your "yes" will 
 rob that mother of her only child; yours over there 
 puts out the eyes of some poor wretch; yours sets 
 in a blaze a fearful conflagration; yours stamps 
 out the brain of a poet, who would have been an 
 
284 "GROUND ARMS!" 
 
 honor to his country. But you have all voted 
 " yes " in order to prove that you are not cowards 
 — as if one had only oneself to consider. Are you 
 not there to represent the wishes of the people? 
 And the people wish profitable labor, wish relief, 
 wish peace.' 
 
 " I hope, dear Doctor," remarked the Colonel 
 bitterly, "that you may never be a member; the 
 whole house would spit upon you." 
 
 " I would soon prove that I am no coward. To 
 swim against the stream requires nerves of steel." 
 
 " But how would it be if a serious attack were 
 made and found us unprepared?" 
 
 "We must have a system of justice which will 
 make an attack impossible. But when the time for 
 action does come, and these tremendous armies with 
 their fearful new means of warfare are brought 
 into the field, it will be a serious, a gigantic catas- 
 trophe. Help and care will be an impossibility. 
 The endeavors of the Sanitary or Red Cross corps, 
 the means of provision, will prove a mere irony 
 of the demands; the next war of which people so 
 glibly and indifferently speak will not be a victory 
 for the one and a loss for the other, but destruction 
 for all. Who among us desires this serious attack?" 
 
 " I, certainly not," said the minister. " You, of 
 course not, dear Doctor, but men in general. Our 
 government, possibly not, but other states." 
 
 "With what right do you deem other people 
 worse and less intelligent than yourself and me? I 
 will tell you a little story: 
 
 " Once upon a time a thousand and one men stood 
 before the gate of a beautiful garden, longingly 
 looking over the wall, desiring to enter. The gate- 
 keeper had been ordered to admit the people, pro^ 
 vided the majority wished admittance. He called 
 one man up: 'Tell me honestly, do you want to 
 come in?' 'Certainly,' he replied, 'but the other 
 thousand do not care about it.' 
 
 " The shrewd custodian wrote this answer in his 
 note-book. He then called a second. He made 
 
"GROUND ARMS-l" 285 
 
 the same reply. Again the wise man wrote under 
 the word 'yes' the figure one, and under the word 
 'no' the figure one thousand. So he went on to 
 the very last man. Then he added up the columns. 
 The result was: One thousand and one 'yeas,' 
 but over a million 'noes.' So the gate remained 
 shut because the 'noes' had an immense majority. 
 And that came about because each one not only 
 answered for himself, but felt himself obliged to 
 answer for all the others." 
 
 "It would be a noble thing,'' replied the minister 
 reflectively, "if by general consent disarmament 
 could be effected. But what government would 
 dare to begin? There is nothing, upon the whole, 
 more desirable than peace; but, on the other hand, 
 how can we maintain it; how can we look for dura- 
 ble peace so long as human passions and diverse 
 interests exist? " 
 
 " Allow me," said my son Rudolph. " Forty mil- 
 lion inhabitants form a state. Why not one hun- 
 dred millions? One could prove logically and math- 
 ematically that so long as forty millions, notwith- 
 standing diverse interests and human passions, can 
 restrain themselves from warring with one another 
 — as the three states, the Triple Alliance, or five 
 states, can form a league of peace — one hundred 
 millions can do the same? But, in truth, the world 
 nowadays calls itself immensely wise, and ridi- 
 cules the barbarians; and yet in many things we 
 cannot count five." 
 
 Several voices exclaimed: "What? barbarians — 
 with our refined civilization? And the close of the 
 nineteenth century?" 
 
 Rudolph stood up. "Yes, barbarians — I will 
 not take back the name. And so long as we cling 
 to the past we shall remain barbarians. But we 
 stand upon the threshold of a new era — all eyes 
 are looking forward, everything drives us on to- 
 ward a higher civilization. Barbarism is already 
 casting away its ancient idols and its antiquated 
 weapons. Even though we stand nearer to bar- 
 
286 "GROUND ARMSt" 
 
 baric ideas than many are willing to acknowledge, 
 we are also nearer to a nobler development than 
 many dare even hope. Possibly the prince or the 
 statesman is now alive who will figure in all future 
 history as the most famous, the most enlightened, 
 because he will have brought about this general 
 laying down of arms. Even now the insane idea 
 is dying out, notwithstanding that diplomatic ego- 
 tism attempts to justify itself by its assertion — the 
 insane idea that the destruction of one person is 
 the security of another. Already the realization 
 that justice must be the foundation of all social 
 life is glimmering upon the world, and from an 
 acknowledgment of this truth humanity must gain 
 a nobler stature — that development of humanity 
 for which Frederick Tilling labored. Mother, I 
 drink to the memory of your devoted husband, 
 to whom I also owe it that I am what I am. Out 
 of this glass no other toast shall ever be drank " — 
 and he threw it against the wall where it fell shat- 
 tered to pieces — " at this baptismal feast of the 
 first-born no other toast shall be offered. We 
 drink not to our fathers' fathers — as the old phrase 
 went — no; but to our grandsons. Mother — what 
 is it?" he stopped suddenly. "You are weeping. 
 What do you see there? " 
 
 My glance had fallen on the open door. The 
 rays of the setting sun fell on a rose bush, covering 
 it with its golden shimmer, and there stood — the 
 figure of my dreams. I saw the white hair, the 
 glitter of the garden shears. 
 
 "It is true, is it not?" he smiled at me — "we are 
 a happy old couple? " 
 
 Ah, me! 
 
 THE END. 
 
THE STORY OF TONTY. 
 
 an historical romance, 
 
 By Mrs. Mary Hartwell Catherwood. 
 
 i2mo, 224 pages. Price, $1.25. 
 
 " The Story of Tonty" is eminently a Western story, beginning at Mon- 
 treal, tarrying at Fort Frontenac, and ending at the old fort at Starved 
 Rock, on the Illinois River. It weaves the adventures of the two great 
 explorers, the intrepid La Salle and his faithful lieutenant, Tonty, into a 
 tale as thrilling and romantic as the descriptive portions are brilliant and 
 vivid. It is superbly illustrated with twenty-three masterly drawings by 
 Mr. Enoch Ward. 
 
 Such tales as this render service past expression to the cause of history. 
 They weave a spell in which old chronicles are vivified and breathe out 
 human life. Mrs. Catherwood, in thus bringing out from the treasure- 
 houses of half-forgotten historical record things new and old, has set her- 
 self one of the worthiest literary tasks of her generation, and is showing 
 herself finely adequate to its fulfillment. — Transcript^ Boston. 
 
 A powerful story by a writer newly sprung to fame. . . . AH 
 the century we have been waiting for the deft hand that could put fiesh 
 upon the dry bones of our early heroes. Here is a recreation indeed. . . 
 One comes from the reading of the romance with a quickened interest in 
 our early national history, and a profound admiration for the art that can 
 so transport us to the dreamful realms where fancy is monarch of fact. — 
 Press^ Philadelphia, 
 
 " The Story of Tonty" is full of the atmosphere of its time. It betrays 
 an intimate and sympathetic knowledge of the great age of explorers, and 
 it is altogether a charming piece of work, — Christian Unions New York. 
 
 Original in treatment, in subject, and in all the details of mise en sckne^ 
 it must stand unique among recent romances. — Netos^ Chicago. 
 A vivid series of fascinating pictures. — New York Observer. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers^ or mailed^ on receipt of price ^ by 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO., Publishers, 
 
 Cor. Wabash Ave. and Madison St., Chicago. 
 
MONK AND KNIGHT 
 
 Win Iblstorical StuCtg in aFfction. 
 
 By the Rev. Dr. Frank W. Gunsaulus. 
 Two Vols. 12mo. 707 pages. Price, $2.50. 
 
 If it is not a romance of extraordinary value we are at fault in our iudg- 
 ment. It is not only readable but deeply interesting- from beginning- to 
 end. . . . "Monk and Knight" is a novel and a history— a 
 
 fiction kept strictly within the bounds of an epoch, and made the vehicle 
 for the story of a great human struggle. It has, moreover, a very definite 
 purpose in not only presenting past history, but in suggesting- its signifi- 
 cance in relation to present movements of civilization. . . , One 
 thing may be said of *' Monk and Knight " that can be said of few recent 
 historical romances: it maintains the seriousness and dignity of truth from 
 beginning to end. It reads like a biography at times, and at other times- 
 like outright history; yet one never misses the story, a sort of prose-epic, 
 that glimpses here and comes out full and strong yonder, all the way along-. 
 This novel makes a strong and singularly fascinating im- 
 pression. The publishers have spared no pains to make the book beautiful, 
 and it is in every way a credit to its makers. — TAe Independent^ New York. 
 
 It is not easy to characterize this powerful book, for it is unique. John 
 Inglesant is suggested by some of the chapters. But Mr, Gunsaulus is a 
 much more learned man than Mr. Shorthouse, and his store of ecclesias- 
 tical and political knowledge is infinitely greater. If Mr. Henry Charles 
 Lea were a writer of fiction, he alone of living men could, from his studies 
 in church history, produce a book equal to this. Let not the ordinary 
 novel lover try to read *' Monk and Knight." It is a book for students, -who 
 will see through the veil of fiction more of the genuine reUgious and secu- 
 lar life of the sixteenth century than they can discover in hundreds of dry 
 avowedly historic novels. They will be charmed with the manly grace 
 and purity of the author's style, and will not be willing- to lay down his 
 •volumes until they have read every word. — The Evening Buileiiny Phila- 
 delphia. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers^ or mailed^ on receipt of price ^ by 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO., Publishers, 
 
 Cor. Wabash Ave. and Madison St., Chicago.