Life in a German Crack Regiment

Fritz was for a moment embarrassed. "Do you really want to know?"

"Why not? As I am not going to pay them you may be quite sure I shall not reproach you."

Fritz bit another cigar. "Taking it all in all, from first to last, it must be about forty thousand marks."

"And how long have you been a lieutenant?"

"Seven years."

"Then that would be at the rate of about six thousand a year; it can't be called a small amount."

Fritz shrugged his shoulders. "What is one to do? The life of an officer is expensive, and then one is not born into the world simply to perform one's military duties. One cannot manage on the allowance you give me."

"Another perhaps might – you cannot."

"I don't think anyone else, at least no one in my regiment, could; they are all in debt, some more, some less. I should say that 75 per cent. of all the lieutenants from time to time do confess to their parents, then a couple of thousands or so are paid – naturally each time they say it is the very last – and the son is once more on his legs again. Now, if one multiplies by seven the amount that the others pay yearly in debts, it amounts to a pretty big sum of money. With me the matter is somewhat more complicated, because I have never paid a farthing, and when one is in such a plight as I am one naturally has to pay very high interest. The last time, in spite of great skill and cunning, I received a thousand marks when I gave an I O U for three thousand."

"Still, that's something," laughed his father.

Involuntarily Fritz joined in the laugh, then he became serious again and asked, "How are things with you, father?"

The major smoked on furiously for a moment. "Don't ask me, my son, things are very bad indeed with me."

The old gentleman looked so full of despair that Fritz felt sincere sympathy, "Poor father, all will soon be better again."

"Perhaps so; but will you believe it, that in spite of the fact that I am not a man of prejudice, I cannot bear the idea of accepting money from my son-in-law, not only to pay my debts, but in order to exist?"

Fritz looked at him with astonishment. "I cannot understand it."

"That is because you are a young lieutenant, unmarried, and have no one in the world to look after but yourself. But consider me, I am an old man of sixty. For more than ten years I have been pensioned; at eight I entered the army as a cadet. I have therefore worn the soldier's uniform for over forty years, and during the whole time I have exercised and drilled recruits, done my duty on parade, taken part in three campaigns. And what is the result of it all? To be dismissed with a pension on which one cannot live if he has a wife and child. Pensioned off with four thousand marks. I ask you, what are four thousand marks to-day? Now, things are said to be better, the pensions are to be increased – well, let us say there is an addition of one thousand five hundred marks – it won't in any case be more, probably not so much. What then? Even six thousand marks are not sufficient to defray the household expenses of a family, are they? In a little town, perhaps, if one lives extremely modestly. But has one grown old, has one worn out one's bones for years in peace and in war, in order that in one's old age one must suffer one deprivation after another merely to prolong life? There is an old saying that the sweets of youth are not a good preparation for the black bread of old age. And we pensioned officers in our youth tasted mostly nothing but sweets. Certainly there were notable exceptions who managed on their allowance, who were economical and sober, but most lived in a happy-go-lucky fashion and enjoyed all the pleasures that were offered them. And what a position one enjoyed then, how one was fêted! From one family to another, one dinner to another. They always gave us the best of everything, overwhelmed us with attentions, literally begged and entreated for our favour. And how well and luxuriously we lived at the Casino. We ordered what we wanted, and if we had no money we ran into debt. Then after this youth of amusement and gaiety comes sorrowful old age, in which one has nothing whatever to do, though that is not the worst part of it. Two things make old age unbearable; money anxieties and the position to which we are relegated. Who are we nowadays? Mere nobodies! The stupidest young lieutenant plays a far more important part than we. We are on the shelf, no attention is paid to us; we are either regarded as ridiculous figures or, at any rate, as objects of pity. And so after we have done our duty for years we can retire to some miserable little hole where we are bored to death or starve. For you can't imagine, my boy, the way in which the pensioned officers and their families live here, and, of course, it is the same in every pensionopolis. There is a groaning and a gnashing of teeth of which none but the initiated have any idea. How few of them ever have any opportunity of earning a few pence? People are apt to avoid the pensioned officer, not entirely without justification, and when he does try to get a post, how much can he earn as an agent or traveller for wine? It is a miserable life, a dog's life. Pour me out some more wine, my boy, pass me the glorious wine; we must gild the grey day, glorify it with wine."

Father and son clinked glasses and emptied them at a draught. Then Fritz said:

"You may be quite right in what you say, father, but how can things be altered? It has always been like this, and I suppose it always will be."

"Yes, as long as the officer plays the important part in Society that he does to-day."

Fritz looked up astonished.

"Do you then, as an officer, wish that it should be otherwise?"

"In many ways, certainly. Do not misunderstand me. I am far from wishing that the position of the officer should be lowered. In my opinion he must and ought to remain in the view of the public what he is to-day – a man belonging to the highest class of Society. That is necessary if we desire to maintain our army in the highest efficiency, as it still is – although for a long time things have not been as they ought to be – as it must be, and as it could be; but these eternal inspections, the fear of dismissal and the struggle for mere existence no longer permit of the careful military training of our troops. However, that is another story." Turning to his son: "Give me another glass of wine, these long speeches make me thirsty, but I must relieve myself once for all of what I have on my mind."

Then, drinking off the contents of his glass at a draught, he continued:

"Well now, my boy, aristocratic men should really form the highest caste in the land, but to do this they must be far more exclusive than they are to-day. People are always talking about the caste feeling of the officers, and it is solemnly trotted out when it is a question of excluding unwelcome elements from the officers' corps, or when an officer strikes a civilian with his sword, or whenever an officer fights a duel with a comrade or anyone else. When the cry is raised against them by the other classes the officers always defend themselves with, 'Remember we belong to the highest caste; we have our own sense of honour, which you cannot understand; our thoughts are not your thoughts, nor yours ours, God be thanked!'

"But how are things really with this highest caste? If they had their own special instincts and characteristics, their own ideas of honour, then they would not only appear 'first class,' they really would be it. They ought to remember the Emperor's words: 'The best society for the officer is that of the officer.' But it is just this idea that you all object to, and now I am coming to what I wanted to say. Consider for a moment the society of the modern officer – I am not here referring to low-class society – he has far too much of it; people run after the lieutenants, everybody who has a house invites you officers, and what do you do? You accept every invitation when there is nothing actually against the host which makes social intercourse in his house an absolute impossibility, and of course that is rare. Wherever there is the attraction of a dinner, a supper, an entertainment of any kind, where the food is good and the drinks plentiful, there the officers are to be found, and it is solely for the sake of the excellent fare that they visit these people with whom they would not dream of sitting down to dinner if they were not rich. To-day, alas! money in the eyes of the officers ennobles. That proud sense of honour which the highest class ought to have should not judge a man according as he is rich or poor, but solely as he is an honourable man. I have often enough noticed how even the old officers bow down to money, how they try to win the favour of the rich, how they give themselves endless trouble to get introduced into a family where a good dinner and a rich daughter is the attraction. Naturally, if an officer behaves in this way he lowers himself in the eyes of other people and arouses the contempt and derision of all thoughtful men – "

"But, father – " interrupted the son.

"Let me finish first what I have to say. If you have any right feeling you must agree with me in what I have already said. But the chief reason why the social condition of the officers must be altered is, that owing to the present state of affairs the officer no longer takes a pride and a joy in his military duties, and is forced into a quite false mode of living. If he goes night after night to balls can he next day be fresh for his duties? and if he daily swallows oysters and champagne at other people's houses, naturally he does not live at the Casino and in his own home as economically and as simply as he ought if he is to manage on his money and contract no debts. He ought in these ways to act as a shining example to other people, and be in reality, and show that he is really, a first-class man. I do not entirely blame the lieutenants, but Society, and, above all, the military authorities. These, in my view, ought to forbid their officers to go into Society so tremendously. Their warnings not to live beyond their means are not enough, and likewise, it is not much use to read out from time to time the stringent Cabinet Order: 'In order to decrease the love of luxury and pleasure it becomes the officers to give a good example by their economical and upright mode of life,' or some such words. The officers might assert that they are economical in the Casino, but then it is the rarest thing for an officer to be ruined by his actual extravagance in barracks. It is Society that is answerable for the lieutenants, Society which imbues him with the idea, the crazy idea I might say, that he is a creature specially favoured by the Almighty, who instil into him the poison of 'You are quite different from every one else.' Society drives him into making debts and living gaily upon them, just as the rich do. When you are an old pensioned officer as I am, without money or position, you will see and understand how Society sins against you by spoiling you in this way. Yes, and when one is a young lieutenant one is foolish enough to believe that all these invitations are meant as an honour to oneself personally, instead of, as it really is, to the officer's uniform."

"That's not always so," interrupted his son.

"Always, as far as lieutenants are concerned, I bet you any amount. It is well known to you that the late Emperor Frederick had signed a Cabinet Order commanding his officers to wear uniform only when on duty; on other occasions they were to appear in civilian dress. I will not criticise in any way this Imperial command, which is not yet in force, but if it were in force, one thing I can tell you – with one stroke it would have robbed the lieutenants of their social importance. The young girls would be bitterly disappointed, and the Enfeld Hussars would not then be in such great request. Now, after what I have told you, do you not see that the carrying out of this order would have been for the benefit of the officers in many ways?"

Fritz had been listening to his father with astonishment, and now he said: "But what sort of a life do you think we ought to live? Without amusements or social intercourse we could not exist, we should grow stupid and dull."

"Don't you imagine it, my boy," laughed the old man. "Confess, honestly, do you ever talk about anything sensible at these entertainments? You speak, and that is all, you whisper sweet words, or talk gossip to one another, but have you ever talked about one serious subject at any place where you have been to? You could not indeed do that, for you are far too stupid. Don't be offended at my harsh words, but I am quite right in what I say. No one, however, ought to reproach you with your stupidity. The majority of officers have been cadets, and what do you learn in the army? Drill, riding, how to judge a horse, manners and behaviour, but what else? What is added in the way of knowledge is not worth talking about, but it's considered quite sufficient for an officer. I have been in the army and I can tell you that I have often felt horribly, horribly ashamed when I saw how little I knew that an educated man ought to know. It is the rarest thing in the world nowadays for a young officer to go on with his education. If he ever does study it's simply military subjects, and except for this he is only too delighted when his duties are over to take his ease or to fill himself with alcohol, and I must say the last occupation is by no means the worst. Pass along the wine, my boy," and again the glasses clinked.

"Let me see, what was I just saying?" asked the major. "Oh, yes, I remember. Well, you see, your intellectual education ought not to be of a kind to make you long to go to entertainments and festivities; on the contrary, if you were better educated you would feel how boring it is to dine to-day at the Mullers, to-morrow at the Schulzes, and to dance about with young girls; you could easily dispense with the conversation, I'll be bound, but not with the dinners and the girls."

"But what do you want, then, father? I really don't understand you. Almost every week one reads in the papers of some scandal or other that has taken place in a little garrison town. Either two drunken lieutenants have boxed each other's ears, or have carried on with each other's wives, or there is some other addition to the Chronique Scandaleuse. And as excuse it is always said, with complete justice: 'The men there have nothing but the public-houses to go to, they ruin morals; if they had the society which their brother officers enjoy in the large towns these things would not happen.' We should simply die if we couldn't go to these little entertainments, and now you want to deprive us of them."

"I was not meaning that, I only want to alter them, to make them simpler, to reorganise the whole thing. To-day, when two lieutenants meet on duty in the morning, and one tells the other that yesterday he dined with such and such a man of wealth, the other asks, with deadly seriousness: 'Does he give one decent things to eat?' Then the first speaker, who is otherwise very proud of the fact that, owing to mental stupidity, he cannot learn anything by heart, rattles off the long menu, together with the names of the various wines! If an old staff-officer who knows how to judge good wine did this I should not object – the man has a right, I might almost say a sacred duty, to recognise with gratitude what the Almighty allows him to have in the shape of excellent wine – but when a lieutenant of twenty does this it is nothing but a vice to boast of. When people are young they ought not to think about what is put before them, they ought not indeed to know anything about it, but they are unfortunately being educated into gourmands and gourmets. Whenever a lieutenant is invited to dinner the lady of the house wrings her hands and says: 'We must not give this and that, it's not good enough; and if we don't give these fine gentlemen good things to eat they won't come here again, they are so dreadfully spoiled nowadays.'"

"It is, as you know, the universal custom to invite captains or staff-officers to dinner, lieutenants only to balls, but is the supper after a ball anything else but a dinner served later in the evening? There are caviare, lobster salads, pasties of goose-liver – I know the whole list – and one bottle of champagne follows the other, and that is the folly. No, not the folly, but the wickedness which Society commits against the young officers; you are so terribly spoiled that you become firmly convinced that a luxurious life is the only life; you see it everywhere, in every house you go into, and it is, therefore, not to be wondered at if you get false ideas."

"But how do you propose to alter Society?"

"In this way: In future it should not be simply a question of eating and drinking; the lieutenants should really have society; not only a huge supper. But, above all, in future the young lieutenant must be treated as a human being, not as a little god. He must understand that people do not stand on tremendous ceremony with him and involve themselves in expense on his behalf; he must be made to feel that he is nothing but a young man of good family.

"People must not overwhelm him with flattery; he must, of course, be treated politely and cordially as any other guest would be, but he must not always take the first place. When Society makes up its mind to do this then the lieutenant will become once more what he ought to be, but what, alas! he no longer is. His foolish self-complacency will vanish, he will again perform his duties with enthusiasm and delight; again will he live simply and economically, and he will then be no longer ashamed to confess, openly and honourably: 'My means do not allow me to do such and such a thing.' He will no longer run up debts, nor gamble, and the number of men who are ruined by their profligate lives will be speedily decreased. And when later he drops the uniform he will not long for the flesh-pots of Egypt as the present generation do; he will know how to live on his income, and then if, during his years of active service he were not worshipped as a second golden calf, he could endure to play an unimportant part when he retires on a pension. And the one thing more: If when he is an officer he understands clearly that he is not superior to other people, then when he takes his discharge he will not be ashamed and afraid of working, nor of adding to his somewhat limited stock of knowledge in order to get some appointment or other which will enable him to support himself and his family. He will consider it more honourable to live on money which he had honestly earned than on credit, or by running into debt."

Fritz looked at his father in great astonishment. "But what makes you take these views?"

"Why do I take them? I have always had them, though perhaps I have not always lived in accordance with them. You know what a situation I am in, and naturally enough I often ask myself who is to blame for it. I have thought long and much on the subject, and I have come to the conclusion: it is Society that spoils us utterly as it is now spoiling you, and then casts us aside as valueless directly we no longer wear the dazzling uniform. Society means well, but without wishing to do so it commits more sins against the lieutenants than it can answer for, and from this point of view His Majesty was perfectly right when he made the remark I have already referred to: 'The best society for the officer is the society of the officer.' I know this, that if ever I had been the colonel and commander of a regiment I should have said to my officers: 'Gentlemen, you must give up going all over the place wherever a smoking dish awaits you; I will give you a list of the families where you can visit.' I should have only chosen those where my officers could have had, first of all, nice, pleasant, friendly, social intercourse, and, secondly, quite simple suppers. Of course, as you can imagine, my son, the officers would have at first cursed and sworn, but later they would have been grateful to me. Bismarck used to say: 'Other nations can imitate everything we possess except the Prussian lieutenant.' The old statesman was right when he spoke. Would he be equally right to-day, I wonder?"

"But, father – "

"Don't interrupt, my boy," laughed the old major; "you are my dearly-loved son, and my joy, but would you maintain that you are the model Prussian lieutenant whom Bismarck praised?"

"Well, no, not exactly that," admitted Fritz, yielding, "but still – "

"Now be a good fellow, don't defend yourself any further. It's high time, moreover, for us to stop talking. I must have my afternoon nap. At six o'clock I am going to the club. Will you come with me?"

"Of course, Dad."

"Very well, then, good-bye for the present," and the old man went into his room.

It was not till supper that the family were all together again, and the men folk were late in coming. They had stayed longer than usual at the club, the members of which were retired officers who day after day argued and disputed concerning their dismissal and the advancement of their comrades who, according to their firm conviction, ought to have been retired far earlier than they. Fritz's appearance aroused quite a sensation in the little circle; they were delighted to see at lunch once again a lieutenant on active service, even though he was in mufti, and they were suddenly of the opinion that the ordinary sour Moselle was not at all a suitable beverage for the occasion. They ordered a better brand and chatted gaily over it.

The major and his son were somewhat silent at supper; the mother told all about the visits she had paid with Hildegarde, and as her husband was in an amiable frame of mind she thought this would be a favourable moment for him to bear the disappointment of learning that the Warnows had only sent him six thousand marks. So she told him about it, and also that she had changed the cheque in the bank.

"Well, it's not much, certainly, but it's something," averred the major. "Let me have the money."

His wife objected. "Let me keep it till to-morrow, then we will talk over things quietly and consider whom we must pay."

"Paying is all very well," said Fritz, "but surely you wouldn't be so stupid, now that you have a few pence in your pockets, to fling them away again. If you pay one person all the others will come running to the house to-morrow, in honour of the Dad's birthday. Whoever would be so stupid as to pay debts?"

His father quite agreed with him. "Fritz is right, Fritz is a sensible fellow. The crew have waited all this time for their money and can certainly wait a few weeks longer until Hilda is engaged. To your health, Hilda!"

Fritz also raised his glass. "Long life to your future husband! By the way what's his name? Not that it matters; the thing is, he has money."

But Hildegarde did not lift her glass, she would like to have got up from the table, she could not bear the way they talked about her, and she could hardly refrain from bursting into tears. What would George think if he knew how they drank his health and how they only thought of his money and not of himself?

"Well, if you won't drink with us, leave it alone," said Fritz, and emptied his glass.

The major returned to the subject of the money. "My dear, with that money we might really have a nice little holiday; for three years we have not stirred from this miserable hole. We would leave two thousand marks at home, so that when we returned we were not penniless, and the rest we would take with us and go for a few weeks to Italy."

The idea was very agreeable to his wife, but she said, however, "Later, perhaps, when Hilda is engaged. Remember the engagement may take place any day, and we must be here to receive the dear man with open arms."

"We will do that, certainly," said the major, "we'll embrace him. He will be astonished how affectionately we hold him, won't he, Fritz?" And turning to his wife he went on: "Just imagine, mother, that rogue Fritz is forty thousand marks in debt." And he burst out laughing at his son.

His mother clasped her hands, horrified. "But Fritz, how is that possible?"

And, Hildegarde, astounded, burst out: "What on earth do you do with the money from home that uncle sends you?"

"'Ask the stars that all things know,'" Fritz began to hum, but he could not recollect the tune, so he only hummed a couple of inarticulate notes.