The Major's Reward

The great battle of Torgau was at its height. The air was thick with hot, stifling smoke, and the cannonade made the very earth tremble as column after column of blue coated Prussian soldiers came sweeping forth from the wood that sheltered them from the flaming mouths of 400 cannon which thundered incessantly against the wood held by the Prussians and against every living thing that issued from it.

Twice the assailants had forced their way through the pelting shot, and twice they had been driven back with severe loss after a desperate conflict. In the mad hurly burly and confusion of that terrible struggle the two armies had got so completely mingled together that not a few Prussian and Austrian regiments had fairly changed places, and when the third attack began it was no easy matter for the Prussian column of assault to make out where the key of the enemy's position lay or which way they must turn in order to strike it.

But just then appeared out of the thick of the smoke a small, lean, sickly looking old man, in a soiled and threadbare uniform, at the sight of whom and at the sound of the few short, clear orders that he uttered everything seemed to arrange itself at once as if by magic. And well might it be so; for this queer little fellow was no other than the King of Prussia himself. Frederick the Great, who had already sent is name throughout the whole world as the greatest soldier of his time.

Just then, however, a body of Austrian grenadiers showed themselves through the rolling smoke at a short distance and began to pour a heavy fire of musketry upon the Prussians and their leader. Two men fell wounded beside the king, and his own sleeve was torn by a bullet.

"Your majesty is in danger here," said a Prussian officer, saluting him respectfully. "Will you not be pleased to move farther back?"

Frederick was just about to refuse, for he cared little what risk he ran provided his presence could do anything to turn the fortune of the battle. But before he had time to speak the officer (who had placed himself in front of the king, apparently to shield him from the flying bullets with his own body) fell to the ground as if struck by lightning.

Frederick stooped over him with a look of concern, for he saw that the breast of the fallen man's uniform had been pierced by a bullet and naturally concluded that he must be either killed or mortally wounded. But, to his no small amazement, the supposed dead man suddenly rose from the earth, to all appearances quite uninjured, and took out of his clothes a flattened musket ball, which had been stopped by the metal cover of a miniature that he wore in his breast.

"I shall keep this," said he, holding out the shapeless piece of lead, "in remembrance of your majesty."

"You shall have something better than that to remember me by, my brave fellow," answered the king kindly. "You have saved my life, and you shall not find me ungrateful. What is your name?"

The officer told it. Frederick repeated it twice to himself, as if to fix it more surely in his memory, and then he said:

"Very good; I will not forget you. If we both live through this night's work, you shall be promoted. And now let each of us go to his duty."

And on the following morning, when the battle was won and the Austrian army in full retreat, King Frederick made good his promise. But, unhappily, the brave officer Lood fortune went no further than this. Two years later the war came to an end, and Frederick, with his treasury empty and his whole kingdom lying wasted and ruined around him, was fain to devote every penny that he could raise to the putting of matters to rights again.

As a matter of course every branch of public expenditure bad to be cut down to the very lowest point. Among other economies the army was reduce by a good many thousand men, and the sudden disbanding of so many regiments at once was a heavy blow to hundreds of officers who unexpectedly found themselves cast upon the world in their old age with no occupation, no money in their pockets and no visible way of getting any.

Among the countless sufferers by this measure was poor Major Tapfermann, the hero of Torgau, who, with three wounds, chronic rheumatism and almost as little money as he had ten years before, found it no easy matter to "make both ends meet."

One by one he had to part with all the little knickknacks which he had treasured up so long- the silver mounted pistols presented to him by junior officers of his regiment, the fieldglass which he had used during his last campaign and the ivory handled hunting knife which had been given to him by an Austrian prisoner to whom he had shown some kindness. Even his watch had to be sold at last. But, although in this sore strait, he could not bring himself to part with the chain which had been a gift to him from his wife not long before her death.

There was still. however, one hope left for the poor old man. King Frederick was now back again in his palace at Potsdam, near Berlin; and, having by this time begun to get the affairs of his kingdom into some sort of order again, he was not so overwhelmingly busy as he had been before. Perhaps some help right be got from him, and, at all events, it was worth while to try.

Tapfermann's first idea was to draw up a memorial stating his ease and send it to Frederick himself; but he then remembered that it would have to pass through several hands before reaching the king and might possibly never reach him at all. In any case he could not afford to wait long for an answer, being almost down to his last penny as it was. so he finally determined to present himself at the palace and see what would become of it.

The very next morning, accordingly, the major smartened up his worn and faded uniform as well as he could, and concealed the absence of his wateh by fixing the chain in its usual place and keeping it there by attaching to one end of it the memorable "flattened bullet" of Torgau, which he had preserved as a souvenir ever since. Then, taking his stick in his hand, he set out for Potsdam.

He had to do the whole nine miles on foot, the hire of a horse being far beyond his ineans, poor fellow, and when he reached the palace he was heated and covered with dust and altogether a very strange figure to appear at a king's levee, as the scornful glances of the smart officials plainly told him.

Among these there was one mean and malicious fellow, Hugo von Wakenitz by name, who held the post of chamberlain of the palace, and, being mortally jealous of every one whom the king seemed inclined to favor, and more especially of Frederick's old officers, always did his best to keep them away from the royal presence. It happened by ill luck that just as Major Tafpermann opened his uniform to adjust his chain (which he had got out of place in the course of this long march), the chamberlain, looking down from one of the windows, saw what he was about.

The courtier's quick eye detected at a glance that the chain had a bullet instead of a watch attached to it, and, far from pitying the old warrior's poverty, as any true man would have done, this spiteful rogue at once resolved to get rid of him by putting him to open shame before the whole assembled company.

And it really seemed as if circumstances themselves had conspired to aid his cruel project, for when the king made his appearance his first remark was:

"My watch must surely be wrong, for I had no idea that it was anywhere near my hour for receiving visitors. Wakenitz, what says your watch?"

"Most unfortuuately, your majesty, mine has just stopped," answered the chamberlain. "But I see this worthy officer here (glancing at Major Tapfermann) has brought his along with him, and he will doubtless be able to tell your majesty the true hour."

The spiteful tone and look of the speaker did not escape the shrewd king; but, before he could make any comment, the stout old major, drawing himself up proudly, answered Frederick's inquiring glance by holding up the useless watch chain and the flattened musket ball which hung to it so that every oue could see them.

At the sight of the flattened bullet and the sound of the old warrior's voice the recollection of his rescuer on the field of Torgau flashed back upon the king's memory in a moment, and one glance at the brave old man's threadbare dress and at the malicious grin upon the face of the chamberlain sufficed to tell him the whole story.

"Here is a watch for you, my old comrade, which will tell you the right time," said Frederick, taking off his own watch and handing it to the major, "and that you may have a chance of using it in my service I give you a place in my household from this day forth. and as for you, you rascal," he added, casting a terrible look at the discomfited chamberlain, "since you are mean enough to insult an old man who has fought bravely for his king and country, get out of my sight, and never show your face here again!"- From the German.