LEONORA PROHASKA.
Old Sergeant Prohaska sat sad and musing in his old easy-chair near
the stove; before him lay a copy of the Vossische Zeitung, which he
had just perused. He laid it aside with a sigh; supporting his head
on the leathern cushion, he puffed clouds of smoke from his short
clay pipe. Close to him, at the small table standing in the niche of
the only window which admitted light into the small, dark room, sat
a young girl, busily engaged in drawing threads from a large piece
of linen, and putting them carefully on the pile of lint on the
table. She was scarcely eighteen years old, but her noble, pale
countenance wore an expression of boldness and energy; her forehead
was high, and vigorous thoughts seemed to dwell there. Large black
eyes were flashing under her finely-arched eyebrows, which almost
touched each other above her beautifully-chiselled, slightly-curved
nose. Round her crimson lips was an expression of melancholy, and
her cheeks seemed to have been bleached by grief rather than
sickness. She was tall and well formed, but her whole appearance was
more remarkable for the stern and heroic character it indicated than
for grace and loveliness. While she was thus at work, and engaged in
preparing lint, troubled thoughts seemed to pass from time to time
across her face, and she raised her eyes to heaven with an angry and
reproachful expression. She impulsively cast aside the linen, and
jumped up. "No, father," she exclaimed, drawing a deep breath, "I
cannot bear it any longer!"
"What is it that you cannot bear any longer, Leonora?" exclaimed her
father, surprised.
"To sit here and prepare lint while the whole world is astir, while
every heart is swelling with patriotism and warlike enthusiasm! And
I cannot do any thing, I cannot join in the universal exultation--I
can do nothing but prepare lint! Father, it is heart-rending, and I
cannot bear it!"
"Must not I bear it?" asked her father in a tremulous voice. "Must
not I sit still behind the stove, while all my old comrades are
taking up arms and marching into the field? My right leg was buried
at Jena, and I must limp about now as a miserable cripple; I cannot
even take revenge for the disgrace of Jena; I cannot even pay the
French for my leg by cutting off the heads of some of their accursed
soldiers. I am a cripple, while others are hastening into the field!
When _I_ must bear that, a girl like you ought assuredly not to
complain."
"Father," said Leonora, with flashing eyes, "do not despise me
because I am a girl! Did you not tell me of the heroic women of
Spain and the Tyrol, and of their glorious deeds? Did you not tell
me that, by their intrepid patriotism, they had set a sublime
example to the men. and that by their influence their country was to
be saved? Was not the heroine of Saragossa a woman? Did not women
and girls fight like heroes in the gorges of the Tyrol?"
"Yes, that is true," exclaimed her father, smiling, "but then they
were Spanish and Tyrolese girls. They have fire in their veins, and
love their country with an undying patriotism."
"Ah, one need not be born in the South to have warm blood,"
exclaimed Leonora, ardently, "It is not the sun that gives love of
country, and patriotic hearts may throb even under the snow." "Have
you such a heart, Leonora?" asked her father, casting on her a long
and searching look.
"Father," she said, pressing her hands on her bosom, "there is
something burning here like fire; and at times when I hear how all
are rallying round the flag--and how the warlike enthusiasm is
pervading the whole country, I feel as if the blood would burst from
my heart and head. It is true I am no Spanish girl, but I am a
Prussian girl!"
"Ah, I would you were a Prussian boy!" sighed her father, shaking
his head. "If you were, I believe you would look well in the ranks
of the volunteers; they would not likely reject the young soldier of
eighteen."
"I am quite tall and strong, although I am but a girl," exclaimed
Leonora, with flashing eyes; "I have seen among the soldiers who
started yesterday many volunteers who were a great deal shorter and
slighter than I am."
"But, at all events, they had shorter hair and a stronger voice than
you have," laughed her father.
"Oh, I can cut off my hair," she said, quickly; "and as for my
voice, Kalbaum, the tailor, who accompanied the volunteers, has a
voice no stronger than mine, and yet he was accepted. And then--"
"Hush!" interposed her father quickly. "I hear your mother coming.
Do not speak of such things when she is present. It would alarm her.
Bold thoughts must be locked up in our hearts, for, if we speak of
them, it looks like braggadocio; we are only allowed to speak of
bold deeds. Do not forget that, my daughter, and give me a kiss!"
Leonora hastened to her father, and encircling him with her arms,
pressed a glowing kiss on the lips of the old invalid.
"Father," she whispered, "I believe you understand me, and can read
my thoughts!"
"God alone is able to read our thoughts," said her father, solemnly,
"and it is only from Him that we must not conceal any thing. But
what is that? Is not your mother weeping outside?" And old Prohaska
jumped up and limped, as quickly as his wooden leg permitted, toward
the door.
At this moment the door was noisily opened, and a woman appeared on
the threshold. Behind her was a tall, slender, and pale boy,
scarcely fourteen years of age. Both entered the room with tearful
eyes and loud lamentations.
"Wife, what is the matter--what has happened?" exclaimed Old
Prohaska, anxiously.
"Why do you weep, my brother?" asked Leonora, hastening to the boy,
and clasping him in her arms. He laid his head on her breast and
wept aloud.
"What has happened?" wailed his mother. "All our hopes are blasted;
we have been rejected!"
"Rejected? Where? And by whom?" asked the invalid, in amazement.
"By the military commission!" cried his wife, drying her tears with
her long apron.
"What did you want of the military commission? Did you desire to
become a vivandiere, old woman?"
"No, but Charles wanted to enlist, father! Yes, you must know all
now. We thought we would prepare a joyous surprise for you, but the
good Lord and the military commission would not let us do so. Look,
old man! I perceived very well how painful it was to you, and how it
was gnawing at your heart, that your wooden leg compels you to
remain here at Potsdam, and prevents your marching out with the
soldiers who are hurrying to the headquarters of their king at
Breslau."
"Yes, it is true, it is very sad! My general, old Blucher, under
whom I fought in 1806, is also at Breslau, and what will he say when
he looks for his old hussars of 1806, and does not find Prohaska! He
will say, 'Prohaska has become a coward--a lazy old good-for-
nothing.'"
"No, father, he will not say so," exclaimed Leonora, ardently; "if
he knows you, he cannot say so.--But speak, mother, tell us what
makes you weep, and what has so afflicted my dear brother?"
"Both of us noticed father's secret grief, and comprehended how
painful it was for him to be unable to participate in the war." said
her mother. "I had not mentioned it to any one, and to God alone I
had complained how grievous it is that I have no full-grown son,
who, instead of his father, might serve his king at the present
time. Last night, when all of you were asleep, Charles came to my
bedside. 'Mother,' he said to me, 'mother, I must tell you
something! I will and must enlist! It would be an eternal disgrace
for me to stay at home, particularly as father is disabled, and
cannot fight any more. Mother, the honor of the family is at stake;
I must enlist or die!'"
"Ah, you are a true brother of mine," exclaimed Leonora, with a
radiant face, drawing the boy closer to her heart.
"And what did you reply to Charles, mother?" asked the invalid.
"'You are my only son, and my heart would break if I should lose
you. But you are right; it would be a disgrace for our whole family
if it did not furnish a single soldier to the king and the
fatherland, and if no substitute should enlist in your father's
place, and revenge him on the French for crippling hiin at Jena. I
will go with you to the military commission to-morrow, and we will
pray the gentlemen to accept you, although you are still under age.
We will pray them until they overlook your youth and enroll your
name. But say nothing about it to father until we have been
successful; then, tell him all.'"
"And you really went with him to the commission?" asked the old man,
hastily.
His wife responded by nodding and sighing, and burst again into
tears.
"Yes, father," exclaimed the boy, raising his head from Leonora's
shoulder, and drying his eyes with an angry gesture, "we went to the
military commission. We begged, implored, and wept! It was all in
vain! They said they were not allowed to accept boys of fourteen; I
was too young, and looked too feeble. In our despair we went to
Eylert, the preacher, and begged him to intercede for me. He is
always kind to me, and often praises me for my industry in preparing
for confirmation. I revealed my whole heart to him; I told him I
must consider myself disgraced, if now, that every one who is not a
coward is taking the sword, I am compelled to go to school. I told
him I should not dare to raise my eyes, and should think all the
inhabitants would point with their fingers at me; the children in
the streets would deride me; and the old men would contemptuously
avert their heads when I passed them."
"Ah, my beloved brother," exclaimed Leonora, enthusiastically,
"hitherto I have loved you as a child, but henceforth I shall love
as a hero!"
"But it was all in vain," cried Charles, sobbing aloud in his grief
and anger. "Even M. Eylert could not give us any comfort. He said it
was impossible for the commission to accept me, for, though they
overlooked my youth and my somewhat feeble health, they could not
enroll me because I had not yet been confirmed. But as we begged so
very hard, and shed so many tears, M. Eylert had at last pity on me,
and went with us once more to the military commission. But it was of
no avail. I am under age and have no certificate of confirmation,
and M. Eylert's intercession was fruitless. [Footnote: Eylert,
"Frederick William III.," vol. ii., p. 160.] They rejected me!
Father, what am I to do now? I am doomed to remain here at Potsdam,
with my tall figure, which will charge me with cowardice in the eyes
of every one, while my schoolmates, who are much shorter than I am,
are allowed to enlist and fight for their country. Oh, mother, why
am I not your eldest child'? Then I should he preserved from the
disgrace of running about as a coward, or of being obliged to have
my certificate of birth constantly in my pocket!"
"My brother," said Leonora, laying her strong white hand on her
brother's light hair, "if I could give you the four years by which I
am older than you, I would do so, though it should cost me my life,
for I comprehend your grief. But I am innocent of your affliction,
and I pray you, therefore, not to be angry with me. It was God's
will that I should be older, and have your place. You must take into
consideration that the war may last a long time; six months hence
you will be confirmed, and then it will be time for you to enlist in
the king's army, and fight for liberty. Besides, my dear brother, it
is not even settled yet whether all these warlike preparations are
really intended for France. To be sure, every one is in hope that
such is the case, but as yet no one is sure of it, for the king has
not declared his intentions, and he is still at peace with France."
"No, the king has declared his intentions," cried Charles,
impetuously. "And that is exactly what causes my distress and my
despair. It is certain now that there will be war with France. You
do not know, then, what has occurred?"
"No," exclaimed father and daughter at the same time, "we do not--we
have not yet seen any one. Tell us the news, Charles."
"Well, we heard already at the office of the military commission
that a courier had just arrived from Breslau, and brought a
proclamation, addressed by the king to his people; they said it had
immediately been sent to the printing-office, and was to be posted
on all the street corners. The courier, besides, brought the news
that the Emperor of Russia had arrived at Breslau, and that the
first visit was to Baron von Stein, who secretly lived at Breslau."
"Hurrah!" shouted old Prohaska. "Prussia is safe now, for Baron von
Stein is back again, and he will know how to expel Napoleon and his
French from the country. Where Minister von Stein is he tolerates no
French, and that is the reason why Bonaparte hates him, and has
always been afraid of him. My boy, this is glorious news! Stein is
back again; now we shall be all right! Have you any other news?"
"Yes, there is a great deal yet, father, but the tears burst from my
eyes when I think of it, because I am unable to participate in the
struggle."
"Oh, what is it?" begged Leonora. "What else has happened at
Breslau?"
"Well," said Charles, in a tremulous and melancholy voice, "the
courier reports that many hundreds of volunteers are arriving every
day, not only from all parts of Prussia, but the whole of Germany,
and that the city is rejoicing as though a festival were to be
celebrated, and not as though we were on the eve of a terrible war.
Above all, there is Major von Lutzow, round whose standard hosts of
young men are rallying, enlisting a corps of volunteer riflemen, to
whom he has given the name of 'The Legion of Vengeance.' They are to
wear a black uniform as sign of the sorrow and disgrace that have
weighed down the fatherland since 1806, and which they intend to
avenge before discarding it."
"Oh, that is a grand idea," exclaimed Leonora, with flashing eyes.
"To march out in mourning--to rush to the battlefield like angels of
death and shout, 'We are the legion of avengers, sent by Prussia to
atone for her disgrace! Our uniform is black, but we intend to dye
it red in the blood of the French!' And then to fight exultantly in
the thickest of the fray for the fatherland, and for our queen,
whose heart was broken by the national dishonor and wretchedness!
Oh, it must be blissful, indeed, to march with that legion to avenge
the tears of Queen Louisa, and--"
"But Leonora!" cried her mother, staring in amazement at the young
girl who stood before her with glowing cheeks, panting bosom, and
uplifted right arm, as if she had just drawn the sword--"but,
Leonora! what is the matter with you? What does your impulsiveness
mean? Has Charles infected you with his enthusiasm? Do you want to
increase the excitement and despair of the poor boy? He cannot join
the 'Legion of Venegance;' he cannot be one of Lutzow's riflemen!"
"No," said Leonora, vehemently and almost triumphantly, "HE cannot
be one of Lutzow's riflemen!"
"Leonora!" cried her father, in a warning tone, "Leonora, what are
you saying?"
She started and dropped her arm. "It is true," she muttered to
herself, "we should not betray our thoughts; God alone must know
them."
Her father limped to her, and, laying his hands on her shoulder,
looked into her excited and glowing face. "Come, my daughter," he
said, "let us go out into the street and read what the king says to
his people. For I believe the king's proclamation must have been
printed by this time. Come, Leonora!"
"No, it is unnecessary for you to go into the street for that
purpose, father," said Charles, "we have brought a copy of the
proclamation; the man who was to post them gave us one for you,
saying it would no doubt gladden your heart. Where did you leave it,
mother?"
"I put it into my pocket. Here it is!" said the mother, taking a
large printed sheet from the pocket hanging under her apron. "There,
father, read it."
The old man took the paper and handed it to Leonora.
"Read it to us, my child," he said, tenderly. "I like best to hear
from your lips what the king says to his people."