Lay Down Your Arms 45

Lay Down Your Arms 45

CHAPTER XII.

 

_Ruin of the Austrian cause at Königgrätz.--Dr. Bresser at the seat

of war.--I resolve to join him and seek for my husband.--Aspect of

the railway station and line in a time of defeat.--The

journey.--The regimental surgeon’s experiences of the horrors of

war.--I arrive at the seat of war and meet Dr. Bresser and Frau

Simon.--Night journey to Horonewos.--The horrors I saw there.--I

sink exhausted under them, and am carried back by Dr. Bresser to

Vienna.--My father takes me home, and there I am joined by my

husband, who had been wounded._

 

 

The battle of Königgrätz had been fought. Another defeat! And this time

as it seemed a decisive one. My father communicated the news to us in

such a tone as he would have used in announcing the end of the world.

 

And no letter, no telegram from Frederick. Was he wounded? dead? Conrad

gave his _fiancée_ news of himself--he was untouched. The lists of the

slain had not yet arrived, it was only known that there were 40,000

killed and wounded at Königgrätz; and the latest news I had had ran: “We

are moving to-day to Königgrätz”.

 

On the third day still not a line. I wept and wept for hours: I could

weep just because my grief was not quite hopeless; if I had known that

all was over, there would have been no tears for my load of woe. My

father too was deeply depressed. And my brother Otto was mad with thirst

for revenge. It was announced that corps of volunteers were to be formed

in Vienna. He wanted to join them. It was further announced that

Benedek was to be removed from his command and the victorious Archduke

Albert summoned to the north to take his place, and then perhaps there

might yet be a rally; the overweening enemy, who wanted altogether to

annihilate us, might be beaten back, as he would be caught on his march

on Vienna. Fear, rage, pain filled all minds; all pronounced the name of

“the Prussians” as if they were all that is detestable. My only thought

was Frederick--and no news--none!

 

A few days afterwards arrived a letter from Dr. Bresser. He was busy in

the neighbourhood of the battlefield in giving what assistance he could.

The need, he wrote, was without limit, mocking all power of imagination.

He had joined a Saxon physician, Dr. Brauer, who had been despatched by

his government to give them information from actual inspection on the

state of affairs. In two days a Saxon lady was to arrive--Frau Simon, a

new Miss Nightingale--who since the outbreak of the war had been busy in

the hospitals of Dresden, and who had offered to undertake the journey

to the fields of battle in Bohemia in order to render assistance in the

hospitals adjacent. Dr. Brauer, and Dr. Bresser with him, were going, on

a day named, at seven in the evening, to Königinhof, the nearest station

to Königgrätz to which the railway was still open, to await the

courageous lady there. Bresser begged us to send if possible a quantity

of bandages and such things to that station, so that he might receive

them there himself.

 

I had hardly read this letter before my resolution was taken. I would

take the box of bandages myself. In one of those hospitals which Frau

Simon was to visit possibly lay Frederick. I would join her and find the

dear sufferer--nurse him--save him. The idea seized me with compelling

force--so compelling that I held it to be a magnetic influence from

afar, derived from the longing wish with which the dear one was calling

for me.

 

Without telling any one in my family of my purpose--for I should only

have encountered resistance on all hands--I embarked on the journey a

few hours after the receipt of Bresser’s letter. I had given out that I

wanted to look out the things which the doctor required, in Vienna, and

send them off myself, and so I managed to get away from Grumitz without

difficulty. From Vienna I meant to write to my father “I am off to the

seat of war”. It is true that doubts arose in me--my incapacity and want

of experience, my horror of wounds, blood, and death--but I chased these

doubts away. What I was doing I was compelled to do. The gaze of my

husband was fixed on me, in prayer and supplication. From his bed of

pain he was stretching his arms out after me, and “I am coming, I am

coming,” was all I was able to think of.

 

I found the city of Vienna in unspeakable excitement and confusion.

Disturbed faces all round me. My carriage came across a number of

carriages full of wounded men. I was always looking to see whether

Frederick might be among them. But no! His longing cry, which vibrated

in my vitals, rang from far away, from Bohemia. If he had been sent off

home the news would have come to us simultaneously.

 

I drove to an hotel. From thence I went to look after my purchases, sent

the letter which I had prepared for Grumitz, got myself equipped in a

travelling costume most adapted for rough work, and drove to the

Northern Station. I wanted to take the first train that was starting, so

as to reach my destination in good time. I had a single fixed idea under

whose domination I carried out all my movements.

 

At the station all was in a bustle of life, or should I say a bustle of

death? The halls, the waiting-room, the platform, all full of wounded,

some of them at their last gasp. And a corresponding crowd of people,

sick nurses, soldiers of the sanitary department, sisters of mercy,

physicians, men and women of all ranks and occupations, who had come

there to see whether the last train had brought one of their relations;

or again, to distribute presents, wine and cigars, among the wounded.

The officials and servants, busy everywhere in pushing back the folks

who were pushing forward. They wanted to send me off too.

 

“What do you want there? Make way! you are forbidden to give out things

to eat and drink. Go to the committee; your presents will be taken in

there.”

 

“No, no,” I said; “I want to set off. When does the next train start?”

 

It was long before I could get information in reply to this. Most of the

departure trains, I found at last, were suspended, in order to keep the

line open for the arrival trains which were coming in, one after

another, laden with the wounded. For the day there were absolutely no

more passenger trains. There was only one with the reserve troops that

were being sent forward, and another exclusively reserved for the

service of the Patriotic Aid Society, which had to take away a number of

physicians and sisters of mercy, and a cargo of necessary material to

the neighbourhood of Königgrätz.

 

“And could not I go by that train?”

 

“Impossible.”

 

I heard, ever plainer and more beseeching, Frederick’s cry for help, and

could not get to him. It was enough to drive one to despair. Then I

espied at the entrance of the hall Baron S----, vice-president of the

Patriotic Aid Society, whose acquaintance I had first made in the year

of the war of ’59. I hastened to him.

 

“For God’s sake, Baron S----, help me. Surely you recognise me?”

 

“Baroness Tilling, the daughter of General Count Althaus. Of course, I

have that honour. What can I do to serve you?”

 

“You are sending off a train to Bohemia. Let me travel by it! My dying

husband is pining for me. If you have a heart--and your action surely

proves how fair and noble your heart is--do not reject my prayer!”

 

There were still all kinds of doubts and difficulties, but in the end my

wish was granted. Baron S---- called one of the physicians despatched by

the Aid Society, and recommended me to his protection as a

fellow-traveller.

 

There was still an hour before our departure. I wanted to go into the

waiting-room, but every available space had been turned into an

hospital. Wherever you looked, you saw cowering, prostrate, bandaged,

pale forms. I could not look at them. The little energy which I

possessed I had to save up for my journey, and for its object. I could

not venture to expend here anything of the stock of strength, of

compassion, or of power of assistance which was at my command--all

belonged to him--to him who was calling for me.

 

Meantime, there was no corner to be found in which a painful scene could

be spared me. I had taken refuge on the platform, and there I was

brought face to face with the most grievous of all sights, the arrival

of a long train, all whose carriages were full of wounded, and the

disembarkation of the latter. The less seriously wounded got out by

themselves, and managed to get themselves forward; but most had to be

supported, or even carried altogether. The available stretchers were at

once occupied, and the remaining patients had to wait till the bearers

returned, lying on the floor. Before my feet, at the spot where I was

sitting on a box, they laid a man who made, without cessation, a

continuous gurgling sound. I bent down to speak a word of sympathy to

him, but I started back in horror, and covered my face with both hands.

The impression on me had been too fearful. It was no longer a human

countenance--the lower jaw shot away, one eye welling out, and, added to

that, a stifling reek of blood and corruption. I should have liked to

jump up and run away, but I was deadly sick, and my head fell back

against the wall behind me. “Oh what a cowardly, feeble creature I am,”

I said, reproaching myself; “what have I to do in these abodes of

misery, where I can do nothing, nothing, to help, and am exposed to such

disgust?” Only the thought of Frederick rallied me again. Yes, for him,

even if he were in the condition of the poor wretch at my feet, I could

bear anything. I would still embrace and kiss him, and all disgust, all

horror would be drowned in that all-conquering feeling--love.

“Frederick, my Frederick, I am coming.” I repeated half-aloud this fixed

thought of mine which had seized me at the time I read Bresser’s

letter, and had never quitted me.

 

A fearful notion passed through my brain--what if this man should be

Frederick? I collected all my forces, and looked at him again. No, it was not he.