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THE DESERTER - A MASONIC TALE.
BY A LONDON BROTHER
FREEMASONS MONTHLY MAGAZINE - 1842
IN one of the dungeons of Potsdam, were
seated three
persons: the first, a young soldier, scarce
eighteen, whose
jacket, stripped of its facings, told that
the sentence of the
court-martial had already passed - a
sentence which for his
of fence (that of desertion) Frederick the
Great seldom
inclined to mercy.
Beside him was seated a female, her hands
clasped in
convulsive firmness; her lips quivering
with suppressed
emotion; the tears streaming conconsciously
from her eyes,
which were rivetted, with mournful
tenderness, upon the
prisoner, soon to be led forth to death.
The third inmate of
that dreary cell was the chaplain of the
prison, whose
self-possessed, yet mild demeanor, told
that long familiarity
with scenes of wretchedness, while it had
enabled him to
suppress all outward demonstration of
sorrow, had not
blunted his heart to the miseries of his
fellow creatures.
"Fritz!" exclaimed the heart-broken mother,
"this is not the
spirit in which a Christian should meet
death: listen to the
exhortation of God's minister."
"Mother, I am innocent," replied the youth.
"My captain gave
me permission to absent myself two days,
the very night
before he fell, but my judges would not
believe
me."
"I believe you," sobbed the heart-broken
parent; "but is the
injustice of man an excuse for neglect of
Heaven. Though
guiltless of this one fault, how many
thousands are unatoned
- are unrepented of? and you would die in
this hardened
spirit? - the sense of human injury is
stronger than the sense
of human sinfulness. Hear, Fritz," she
continued, "bend thy
stubborn knees. When your poor father died,
you were an
infant, helpless and sickly - I forgot
myself, hushed my own
griefs to remember you. I commanded back my
tears, stifled
my sighs, divorced my grief from your
father's grave, and
lived through many a grievous hour, because
thou didst live.
'Twas a bitter grief; but, oh! 't was
happiness to this. My boy,
my thoughts grow frantic when I behold thee
blotted from the
book of life! Bend, bend thy stubborn knees
and ask for
mercy."
"Mother!" exclaimed the young soldier, his
frame writhing
with emotion, "spare me."
"Spare me, and save thyself," answered the
unhappy
woman; humble thy haughty spirit; nor deem,
that because
an unjust sentence has been pronounced
against thee, thou
mayest unprepared stand before the judgment
seat of the
Most High."
Fritz, whose face was covered with his
hands, wept bitterly -
his sobs were audible.
"Blest tears!" exclaimed the priest, "they
are the harbingers
of contrition - the penitential waters of
the soul, which
cleanse it from impurities:"
The rest of the night was passed in prayer
and religious
exercises. The unhappy youth was brought to
feel that
earthly injustice was no expiation for his
offences against
Heaven, and that ere he could look for
pardon from his
offended Creator, he must endeavor to merit
it by penitence
and prayer.
"Mother," said the youth, after his
feelings had been soothed
by the hope which so lately was a stranger
to his breast, "I
thank thee - thou hast given me life,
nurtured me, expended
on my early years all the rich treasures of
a parent's love; as
cares, as watchfulness, as tenderness: thou
halt done more,
thou halt taught me how to die-to quit the
world in peace."
"And to pardon it," interrupted the
minister, "to extend
Christian forgiveness to your enemies, if
such thou hast."
"What!" exclaimed the young man - the
infirmity of human
passion for a moment subduing the dictates
of religion -
"forgive my enemies! - forgive Hubert and
Carle, whose lies
condemned me! - never, father, never!"
"How else wilt thou hope to be forgiven?"
demanded the
good old man. "Shall man dare ask
forgiveness of his Maker,
and yet refuse it to his fellow worm?"
"But, Hubert and Carle, father"-
"Have injured thee, my son," said his
mother, calmly; "had
they not, where would be the merit of
forgiving them? Has
thou forgot the first prayer I taught thee
to pronounce:
'Dimitte nobis debits nostra: sicut et nos
dimittimus
debitoribus nostris.' Forgive them, my
child, as thou hopest
to be forgiven."
"Mother, the last feeling is rooted from by
heart, I do forgive
them."
"Thanks! thanks!" exclaimed the now happy
parent; "the
bitterness of losing thee is past; our
separation will be short,
Fritz, I am already bowed more by sorrow
than by years. The
grave now orating to receive thee will not
be long without a
second tenant."
"The hour will soon arrive, mother, when we
must part; but
let me fulfil my last earthly duty." The
captive reached from
the shelf above his rude hard couch, a
military knapsack,
and began arranging its contents. "Here,
dear mother, is my
bible; keep it for my sake; it was my
father's; and you will not
prize it less that it has been your unhappy
son's. Would," he
added, turning to the priest, "I had aught
worthy of your
acceptance, but the captive's prayer must
be your only
guerdon; unless," he continued, "this
trinket, which seems
marked in curious characters and Hebrew
letters, be worthy
of your attention." He placed in the old
man's hands a small
medallion of silver gilt, as he spoke.
"Where got you this?" demanded the priest,
eyeing it with
surprise and curiosity.
"It was my father's - it has his name upon
it"
"Fritz Kineberg," said the inquirer,
reading the legend
engraved on the rim - the speaker paused
for a moment and
then resumed - "my son, I have a duty to
attend to; another
wretched prisioner awaits my ministry; but
at the hour of the
last trial of your firmness, I will be with
you."
"Leave us not, holy priest," exclaimed the
mother, "Heaven
knows we have need of consolation and
support."
" 'Tis the sacrifice of duty, daughter,"
answered the old man,
"and mast be made."
The inmates of the prison bowed in
resignation, and again
were deep in prayer, as the good priest
left the cell.
Morn at length broke, and all was prepared
for the execution
of Fritz-still the priest returned not -
his arms were pinioned,
and the guard about to conduct him from his
cell, when the
door was gently opened, and the chaplain
entered.
"You are late," said the young man, "but
duty, doubtless
detained you. Un-loose my mother's arms
from about my
neck, father, and give me your blessing
comfort her when I
am gone."
"Fritz," said the old man, solemnly, "you
stand upon the
verge of eternity. Is thy mind subjected to
the will of God ?"
"I am contented to die. God's will be
done."
The sobs of the wretched mother, whose
fortitude had quite
forsaken her, were irrepressible.
"Unsearchable are His ways, my child;
inscrutable are His
decrees. Lost and wretched as you stand,
were it well, He
still could save you.'
"I am hopeless, father, of all earthly
mercy," replied the
young man.
"Hope," answered the priest, with a tone
approaching to
cheerfulness, "should never leave us.
Should it please
Providence to spare thy life"-
"Priest!" exclaimed the mother, who had
been listening to his
words, "Is there hope? Thou art a holy man,
and would'st not
trifle with a soul upon the verge of time.
Shall I not be left a
childless mother ? Has Heaven in mercy to
my prayer,
spared me my age's prop - my boy - my only
one ?"
"It has," replied the priest, producing the
pardon; " he is free:'
In an instant, mother and son were folded
in each other's
arms, while the messenger of mercy bestowed
on them his
benediction.
The father of Fritz and Frederick of
Prussia were
Freemasons. The story is told as related to
the writer by one
of the young soldier's descendants, who is
himself a member
of the Fraternity, and attached to a Lodge
in Suabia.*
* Frederick was initiated on the 15th of
August, 1738, in a
Lodge held at Brunswick, England, under the
Scot's
constitution - he being at that time Prince
Royal. On his
accession to the throne, his favorable
opinion of the
Institution induced him to cause a Grand
Lodge to be formed
at
Berlin; for
which purpose a charter was obtained from
Edinburgh, Scotland. He took a great personal interest in its
affairs, and established several important
regulations.
Among them were the following; - (1.) That
no person should
be made a Mason, unless his character was
unimpeachable
and his manner of living and profession
respectable. (2.)
That every member should pay twenty-five
rix dollars for the
first degree; fifty for the second, and one
hundred on his
being made a Master Mason. (3.) That he
should remain at
least three months in each degree; and that
every sum
received should he divided by the Grand
Treasurer into three
parts; one to defray the expenses of the
Lodge: another to
be applied to the relief of distressed
Brethren; and the third
to be distributed among the poor in
general. - [ED.
MAGAZINE.]
POTS
Freemasonry is a science of symbols, in
which, by their proper
study, a search is instituted after truth,
that truth consisting in the
knowledge of the divine and human nature of
God and the human
Soul. - DR. A. G. MACKEY.
George Helmer FPS
PM Norwood #90 GRA
PZ
Norwood #18
RAM
MBBFMN #362