"I understand German: do not speak in such a manner."
The postmaster's pipe fell from his hand.
"You are very imprudent in your speech, Monsieur Kalkreuth," said the
old man; "if others beside this young man had understood you, you know
what would happen."
"It is only my way of talking," replied the postmaster. "What can you
expect? When everything is taken from you--when you are robbed, year
after year--it is but natural that you should at last speak bitterly."
The old man, who was none other than the pastor of Schweinheim, then
said to me:
"Monsieur, your manner of acting is that of an honest man; believe me
that Monsieur Kalkreuth is incapable of such a deed--of doing evil even
to our enemies."
"I do believe it, sir," I replied, "or I should not eat so heartily of
these sausages."
The postmaster, hearing these words, began to laugh, and, in the excess
of his joy, cried:
"I would never have thought that a Frenchman could have made me laugh."
My two comrades were ordered for guard duty; they went, but I alone
remained. Then the postmaster went after a bottle of old wine, and
seated himself at the table to drink with me, which I gladly agreed to.
From that day until our departure, these people had every confidence in
me. Every evening we chatted at the corner of the fire; the pastor
came, and even the young girls would come downstairs to listen. They
were of fair and light complexion, with blue eyes; one was perhaps
eighteen, the other twenty; I thought I saw in them a resemblance to
Catharine, and this made my heart beat.
They knew that I had a sweetheart at home, because I could not help
telling them so, and this made them pity me.
The postmaster complained bitterly of the French, the pastor said they
were a vain, immoral nation, and that on that account all Germany would
soon rise against us; that they were weary of the evil doings of our
soldiers and the cupidity of our generals, and had formed the
_Tugend-Bund_[1] to oppose us.
[1] League of virtue.
"At first," said he, "you talked to us of liberty: we liked to hear
that, and our good wishes were rather for your armies than those of the
King of Prussia and Emperor of Austria; you made war upon our soldiers
and not upon us; you upheld ideas which every one thought great and
just, and so you did not quarrel with peoples but only with their
masters. To-day it is very different; all Germany is flying to arms;
all her youth are rising, and it is we who talk of Liberty, of Virtue
and of Justice to France. He who has them on his side is ever the
stronger, because he has against him only the evil-minded of all
nations, and has with him youth, courage, great ideas,--everything
which lifts the soul above thoughts of self, and which urges man to
sacrifice his life without regret. You have long had all this, but you
wanted it no longer. Long ago, I well remember, your generals fought
for Liberty, slept on straw, in barns, like simple soldiers; they were
men of might and terror; now they must have their sofas; they are more
noble than our nobles and richer than our bankers. So it comes to pass
that war, once so grand--once an art, a sacrifice--once devotion to
one's country--has become a trade, for sale at more than one market.
It is, to be sure, very noble yet, since epaulettes are yet worn, but
there is a difference between fighting for immortal ideas and fighting
merely to enrich one's self.
"It is now our turn to talk of Liberty and Country; and this is the
reason why I think this war will be a sorrowful one for you. All
thinking men, from simple students to professors of theology, are
rising against you in arms. You have the greatest general of the world
at your head, but we have eternal justice. You believe you have the
Saxons, the Bavarians, the Badeners and the Hessians on your side;
undeceive yourselves; the children of old Germany well know that the
greatest crime, the greatest shame, is to fight against our brothers.
Let kings make alliances; the people are against you in spite of them;
they are defending their lives, their Fatherland--all that God makes us
love and that we cannot betray without crime. All are ready to assail
you; the Austrians would massacre you if they could, notwithstanding
the marriage of Marie Louise with your Emperor; men begin to see that
the interests of Kings are not the interests of all mankind, and that
the greatest genius cannot change the nature of things."
Thus would the pastor discourse gravely; but I did not then fully
understand what he meant, and I thought, "Words are only words; and
bullets are bullets. If we only encounter students and professors of
theology, all will go well, and discipline will keep the Hessians and
Bavarians and Saxons from turning against us, as it forces us Frenchmen
to fight, little as we may like it. Does not the soldier obey the
corporal, the corporal the sergeant, and so on to the marshal, who does
what the King wishes? One can see very well that this pastor never
served in a regiment, for if he did he would know that ideas are
nothing and orders everything; but I do not care to contradict him, for
then the postmaster would bring me no more wine after supper. Let them
think as they please. All that I hope is that we shall have only
theologians to fight."
While we used to chat thus, suddenly, on the morning of the
twenty-seventh of March, the order for our departure came. The
battalion rested that night at Lauterbach, the next at Neukirchen, and
we did nothing but march, march, march. Those who did not grow
accustomed to carrying the knapsack could not complain of want of
practice. How we travelled! I no longer sweated under my fifty
cartridges in my cartouche-box, my knapsack on my back and my musket on
my shoulder, and I do not know if I limped.
We were not the only ones in motion; all were marching; everywhere we
met regiments on the road, detachments of cavalry, long lines of
cannon, ammunition trains--all advancing toward Erfurt, as after a
heavy rain thousands of streams, by thousands of channels, seek the
river.
Our sergeants keep repeating, "We are nearing them! there will be hot
work soon;" and we thought, "So much the better!" that those beggarly
Prussians and Russians had drawn their fate upon themselves. If they
had remained quiet we would have been yet in France.
These thoughts embittered us all toward the enemy, and as we met
everywhere people who seemed to rejoice alone in fighting, Klipfel and
Zebede talked only of the pleasure it would give them to meet the
Prussians; and I, not to seem less courageous than they, adopted the
same strain.
On the eighth of April, the battalion entered Erfurt, and I will never
forget how, when we broke ranks before the barracks, a package of
letters was handed to the sergeant of the company. Among the number
was one for me, and I recognized Catharine's writing at once. This
affected me so that it made my knees tremble. Zebede took my musket,
telling me to read it, for he, too, was glad to hear from home.
I put it in my pocket, and all our Phalsbourg men followed me to hear
it, but I only commenced when I was quietly seated on my bed in the
barracks, while they crowded around. Tears rolled down my cheeks as
she told me how she remembered and prayed for the far-off conscript.
My comrades, as I read, exclaimed:
"And we are sure that there are some at home to pray for us, too."
One spoke of his mother, another of his sisters, and another of his
sweetheart.
At the end of the letter, Monsieur Goulden added a few words, telling
me that all our friends were well, and that I should take courage, for
our troubles could not last forever. He charged me to be sure to tell
my comrades that their friends thought of them and complained of not
having received a word from them.
This letter was a consolation to us all. We knew that before many days
passed we must be on the field of battle, and it seemed a last farewell
from home for at least half of us. Many were never to hear again from
their parents, friends, or those who loved them in this world.