AN ARISTOCRATIC HOUSEHOLD
HILDEGARDE'S father was about to celebrate his sixtieth birthday, and
the old major had expressed a wish to see his two children on that
day. Fritz had naturally made use of this occasion of rejoicing as an
excuse for asking the Warnows to lend him a good sum for travelling
expenses; of course he had to travel first-class, and take his man
with him, besides which he really must give the old gentleman a
nice present for his birthday. So Captain von Warnow had once more
given him a £50 note. Fritz, thereupon, had naturally tried his
luck at cards, and he had the disgrace, as he himself called it, of
winning a couple of hundred pounds from the owner of an estate in the
neighbourhood; this did not often happen to him; he beamed with joy,
and for the first time for many days he found once more that life was
still endurable.
Hildegarde at first did not want to make the journey, she felt hurt
at her father's letter, in which he wrote: "My dear child, I should,
of course, be immensely delighted to see you, but my personal wishes
must not be considered if there is anything important at stake. If
you cannot come, or find it unwise to go away now for a few days,
then stay where you are and strike while the iron is hot."
She did not want to go, for she foresaw exactly what would happen at
home, but her aunt persuaded her to take the journey. Winkler was on
furlough, so it was said, at Monte Carlo and on the Riviera, he was
not returning for a week. There were no big entertainments before
then, and in any case, if Winkler were away, there would be no object
in going to them, it would only mean the unnecessary expense of new
dresses. She had no desire to throw away her money on men who had
no serious intentions with regard to her niece. And there was also
another reason why Frau von Warnow urged Hildegarde to go; she wanted
to be alone with her husband again and to be able to do something
else during the week but worry and bother about her engagement. She
was thankful that George and Hildegarde would be away at the same
time. In a week they would both be back, and it was to be hoped that
the matter would soon be brought to a happy conclusion. She felt
perfectly satisfied that Lieutenant Winkler was deeply interested in
Hildegarde. When George had announced his leave of absence to her
husband he had requested most earnestly to be remembered to his wife
and Hildegarde. It was quite irregular, from a military point of
view, and it was just because of that that Frau von Warnow regarded
it as a good sign.
So Hildegarde went home. She went by a morning train and her parents
met her at the station. Fritz was expected in less than an hour, and
so they stayed at the station. They went into the restaurant to have
something to eat, for Hildegarde was tired and hungry from the long
and wearisome journey on the branch line.
The waiter hastened towards them, and the proprietor himself came
forward to see to their orders. The major as an officer, and more
especially as a baron, was one of the great people of the town; he
was indeed the only actual baron there, although there were a few
more or less old "Vons," and thus he played an important rôle in the
little town, although his financial position was well known.
The major was the type of the retired military man, of medium size,
well-built, a somewhat red face and enormous moustaches. His wife was
still an extremely nice-looking woman, and one could see that in her
youth she must have been really beautiful.
They chattered about matters of indifference till the meal was
served, but Hildegarde noticed only too clearly how impatient her
parents were to hear something about her prospective engagement; she
tried to avoid a conversation on the subject, but was unsuccessful.
Scarcely had the waiter brought in the meal, and been given the order
not to come back till they rang for him, when they both drew their
chairs near to Hildegarde. "Now, dear child, tell us all about it.
Relieve us of a great anxiety. How do matters stand with you?"
Hildegarde parried the question; what could she really say? It was
certainly very likely that George, when he had got to know her
better, would one day ask for her hand in marriage, and that was the
only thing she could say. But she read in her parents' faces such
fear, and yet such hope, that she had not the heart to deprive them
of their joy. Suddenly she thought of a way out of the difficulty.
She briefly referred to George, and then spoke at length concerning
another very rich man who had lately paid her an immense amount of
attention.
"But, dear child, your aunt has never told me a word about this, and
she always keeps me informed as to the admirer of the hour."
"Oh, that is what she does," thought Hildegarde. Then she said:
"Mamma, I don't want you to write to aunt about this; oddly enough
she hasn't noticed this gentleman's attentions to me, and I did not
tell her anything about it. You know what aunt is; she means to do
the very best for me, and in her efforts to help me, perhaps she goes
too far and spoils things."
"And what is his name? What is he?" inquired her mother.
Hildegarde blushed scarlet. "Please do not ask me; I don't want to
talk about it while the thing is still so uncertain."
"Quite right, my child," commended the major, "one ought not to talk
about things until they are settled"; and turning to his wife he
continued, "Do not press Hildegarde any more. If she does not want to
talk about it you may be sure she has good reasons." Then he shook
hands with his daughter. "Thank you, dear Hilda, that in honour of
this day you give me _this pleasure_; two celebrations instead of
one. Ah, it will probably soon be all settled"; and then he added,
with a deep sigh, "But it's high time, I can tell you, Hilda, I could
not hold out much longer."
Her mother also sighed and said gently:
"Hilda, you have no idea what terrible times we have been through
while you were in Berlin. Just think of it, the municipal authorities
were about to issue a distress warrant for the taxes, and your father
had to strain every nerve to get an adjournment."
"Yes, indeed, that was a stiff bit of work, I can tell you, and if I
had not been able to make use of my well-known name, God knows the
fellow would have seized my last bit of furniture; those people have
no mercy."
"None to the common people, at any rate," Hildegarde interposed.
"And they are quite right," affirmed the major; "the State cannot
live without taxes, and if it were to take under its protection
every working man and tradesman who is behindhand with his taxes,
where would that lead to? We should soon run dry and have no money
for soldiers, pensions and other important things. The State must
be without mercy, and if it makes an exception in our case it does
so because it knows perfectly well that it can do so; an aristocrat
always does his duty towards the State and his fellow-creatures."
Hildegarde did not venture to contradict, she could not indeed do so
without convicting her father of lying.
The major had finished his beer. "What a miserable drink this is for
lunch, it makes one feel heavy and spoils one's appetite. What do you
say to our celebrating this meeting with half a bottle of champagne?"
His wife had no wish to do so. She feared the expense; but, on the
other hand, she knew it was useless to oppose him, and, perhaps,
indeed it would help to raise their credit a little if the proprietor
of the restaurant said that they had drunk champagne and paid for it
in cash. So she agreed. "Yes, certainly, but please let it be French
champagne."
"Of course," said the major; "do you suppose I would celebrate the
joyful news that Hilda brings us with miserable frothy German
champagne?" and he called to the waiter.
It was on Hildegarde's lips to say: "Spare your money; you have no
occasion to rejoice in what I have just told you, it was a pure
fabrication." But she remained silent. Why should she worry her
parents? Perhaps somehow or other a miracle would happen and it would
all come right in the end.
"No, bring a whole bottle of Pommery," corrected the major; "my son
is soon coming, he will also be thirsty, and it's not worth while
beginning with half a bottle."
The wine came, the glasses clinked, and Hildegarde was asked to
tell her news again. "Not here," she begged; "there is no more
uncomfortable place to stay in than a waiting-room, and especially in
a little provincial town."
"All fancy, my dear child, all fancy," her father informed her. "When
I was a young lieutenant I was once stationed at a miserable hole
which Satan, if he likes, may utterly destroy; at last a station was
built, and day after day we strolled up there and felt as jolly and
as comfortable in the miserable little waiting-room as we had never
felt before. If we had not had that station, and had not been able
to go to the station daily, I really do believe we could not have
endured the life for long; we should have gone out of our minds. When
we had done our daily military duty the day's work was over for us,
then there was only one thing to be settled: when and how were we
to go to bed? Should we go early and sober, or late and drunk? Now
we had a higher object in life; we must go and see the arrival and
departure of the trains, and we did this quite as conscientiously as
we did our other duties. You can't imagine the joy when one of us by
chance discovered an acquaintance in the train; whether he liked it
or not he was hauled out of the carriage, and if we could not do it
otherwise we used force. And once we had captured a guest, with much
craft and cunning, we didn't let him go easily, I can assure you. He
was, to a certain extent, placed under military supervision so that
he could not escape. Our visitor had perfect freedom; he could do
whatever he liked, only he must not go to the station. When at last
he really had to go away, and when he had showed us most unmistakably
that he really could not stay away longer, we only let him off by
paying huge toll. Ha! ha! We were nothing but highwaymen; but, good
gracious, what on earth could one do in such a dull hole of a place?"
The major liked telling stories about his life in the little garrison
town, in which he appeared to have much enjoyed himself in spite
of his grumbling and swearing. When he spoke of the days when he
was a young lieutenant he nearly always began his description with,
"We were gay dogs in these days," and then he winked knowingly and
smacked his lips in remembrance of the jolly days when wine, women
and dice played the chief part. Probably the memory of his life in
the little garrison town was so delightful because, to a certain
extent, it was merely an episode. Immediately after his marriage
he had been transferred to Berlin and had taken a good position
there because he was a thoroughly good-natured man and an excellent
officer; his wife was regarded as the _belle_ of Society. A great
career had been prophesied for him, but one day all his prospects
were ruined in consequence of an unjust criticism at inspection
parade. The contemptuous tone in which the General, before all the
officers, criticised the way he did his work made his blood boil, and
he so far lost his self-control as to say to the General that, after
all, he was only a human being like himself, and that he could not
admit the justice of his remarks. This was more than insubordination,
and the major might consider himself lucky that he escaped with
dismissal instead of being punished. He left the army, but a little
later the General was also dismissed; his methods of criticism had
also not been approved of in higher quarters.
When the major began to tell of the days when he was a lieutenant he
went on from one story to another, and though his womenfolk had heard
them all over and over again, they listened attentively to him from
affection; for he had nothing on earth to do but tell these stories
of the gay or wearisome times he had had as an officer. If, as now,
he had a little champagne by his side, everything in the past had a
golden halo around it; when he sat at home with his money bothers he
had not a good word for the whole army.
At last the train which was to bring Fritz was signalled.
The major looked into the bottle, it was empty; he turned to the
waiter to order another one, when his womenfolk interposed. "Let us
go home when Fritz comes, it is much nicer there; besides, we have to
dress for dinner."
Grumbling, the major agreed. "Very well, then, I must pay." He looked
into his purse. "Good gracious, I forgot to put in a five-pound note.
I have not enough money with me."
"Oh, that does not matter, sir," averred the waiter; "the gentleman
can pay when he comes next time."
Hildegarde grew scarlet, she felt ready to sink to the ground for
shame; she knew the trick so well, she had been witness innumerable
times when her father had forgotten the five-pound note which, as a
rule, he never possessed. How had she forgotten about this for the
moment? Never, never should her father remain in debt for a meal
of which she had partaken. So she opened her purse. "I have some
change, father. How much do you want?" And without waiting for an
answer she pushed two gold coins towards the waiter.
"Ah, that's right, Hilda, only don't forget to remind me to give you
back the money directly we get home."
The waiter was about to give her some change, but Hildegarde did not
take it. "That's all right, keep the change for yourself."
They got up and went on to the platform. "Hilda, how could you be
so foolish as to pay," scolded the major; "to-morrow it will be all
over the town that you have come back with money, and in honour of my
birthday the people will dun me for their accounts. One must either
pay all or nothing. I cannot do the first, so I have all carefully
noted down, and later I shall settle the whole bodily at one go."
Hildegarde was vexed at this way of looking at things. "What do you
think about this, mother?"
The baroness shrugged her shoulders. "I should prefer to pay ready
money for everything, but as we cannot do that we must adopt another
method. But the people know very well that they will get their
money." And drawing Hildegarde aside she asked in a whisper, "Tell
me, pray--I am consumed with anxiety and I wonder your father has not
yet asked you--what did the Warnows send as a birthday present?"
"Uncle sent by me a cheque for six thousand marks (£300) on the local
branch of the Imperial Bank."
"Not more than that?"
"Oh, mamma!"
Hildegarde could not speak. She herself was more than humiliated by
her uncle's kindness. She had reckoned up what he had spent in the
course of years for her parents, Fritz and herself. It is true he was
very rich, and in spite of his splendid way of living and all that
he gave away he did not live up to his income; but his kindness had
so greatly shamed and affected her that she had long ago declined to
accept any money from him.
Her mother, absorbed in thought, walked to and fro with Hildegarde,
whilst her father inquired of the station-master why the gate was not
yet open.
"Now," she said, "I fear your father will be somewhat disappointed. I
know that he secretly reckoned upon ten thousand (£500). Six thousand
(£300) is, of course, a lot of money. Nobody must know anything about
it, or people will try and get it out of us at once."
The arrival of the train brought the conversation to an end, and
Fritz hastened towards his parents and sister and greeted them
heartily. He was in faultless civilian costume, which betrayed the
officer in every detail.
"How do you do, mamma? How do, papa? How do, Hilda? How nice that
we're all here together again! We'll celebrate the next few days
properly." He looked round for his servant. "Where's the idiot? 'Pon
my word, these fellows get more idiotic every day. Ah, there he
comes."
The servant, in plain blue livery, appeared, and Fritz handed him his
luggage ticket.
"If you, thick-skinned brute, imagine that I take you with me for
your private pleasure, then you have made a mistake. You are here for
me, do you understand? And if you dawdle about here and don't do your
damned duty, then I'll have you shut up in barracks for a few days
and dismissed. Do you understand? Now, look sharp and put the luggage
in the carriage."
"At your service, sir." The servant hurried out to fulfil his orders.
Hildegarde had noticed how the soldier had blushed when his
lieutenant had rated him in this contemptuous manner before the
ladies and the other travellers. She said to her brother, "Don't be
so disagreeable to your servant. Probably he has been looking forward
to the holiday. Don't spoil his pleasure for him."
"It doesn't matter to me whether the fellow enjoys himself or not.
The important thing is for me to be properly looked after, and,
moreover, I must beg you, courteously but emphatically, not to give
me instructions as to how I am to treat my people. Do not interfere
in things that don't concern you. Tell me instead how things are
with you. Are we soon to congratulate you, eh?"
They had, meanwhile, taken their places in the carriage. The luggage
had been put in, the servant mounted the box, and in a moment the
carriage drove off at a trot to the villa where the major lived.
Hildegarde did not answer, and Fritz had to repeat his question;
but he read in his mother's glance, which told him not to press his
sister further, that all was going on well, and he breathed a sigh of
relief.
After a short drive they reached their home, and a little later they
joined one another at dinner. The major beamed with pleasure at
having his two children with him again, and in honour of the day,
and as a preparation for the morrow, they had the best wines and the
richest food. After dinner they sat for a long time over the coffee
and cigars. The brother and sister had to tell everything that had
happened to them, the former in his little provincial garrison, the
latter in Berlin.
Although the major loved his beautiful daughter dearly, Fritz was
certainly his favourite; everything that he did was right, everything
that he said was marvellous.
Hildegarde, on the contrary, found her brother, whom she had not seen
for some time, more intolerable than ever. He was amazingly proud and
conceited--the typical young officer who has nothing, is nothing,
and yet solely on the strength of his uniform imagines himself to be
a superior being. His appearance was as affected as his behaviour;
the waxed moustache standing out proudly, the eyeglass which he never
for a moment removed from his eye, and his up-to-date civilian's
dress. He was really rather nice-looking, his figure was slim and
elegant, and he had a fresh, open countenance, though somewhat
unintelligent and expressionless, and he wore an affected air of
boredom.
Of course he talked of nothing but his horses, his duties, his
comrades, and this bored Hildegarde so that she got up on the pretext
of going to rest a little. Her mother also rose after she had
arranged with her daughter to pay some visits in the afternoon.
As soon as father and son were alone together it was: "What do you
say if we were to drink another bottle of wine?"
"I'm quite agreeable."
The wine was brought, and for a short time they continued their
former conversation, then they spoke of Hildegarde.
"Really, how handsome the girl still is!" said Fritz. "And do you
think that this time it will come off?"
To-day the major saw everything in roseate hues. "Yes, most
certainly. Hildegarde has two on the cards; one in any case will come
up to the scratch."
Fritz groaned aloud. "God grant it!"
"Yes, Heaven help us!" assented his father, then he went on: "Well,
now, as we clearly see deliverance before us, you need no longer keep
any secrets from me, especially as you know quite well that I cannot
pay your debts. I told you that directly you became an officer.
I said to you then: 'Have as many debts as you like, but look to
yourself for paying them.' Now confess, how much do you owe?"
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.
It was long before his mother recovered her composure. "It is really
frightful; it is to be hoped that Hildegarde's _fiancé_ will pay your
debts also later. But supposing he doesn't, what are you going to do?"
"Shoot myself. But he'll soon pay up, I'll see to that all right."
"If you only had been something else but an officer," lamented his
mother; "it's madness for a man who has no money to enter the army."
"I quite agree with you," said Fritz; "but what's the use of
lamenting? It's too late now, you should have thought of that before,
when you sent me to the Military College. I wasn't asked."
"You are quite right. The rascal is reproaching us now," laughed his
father.
"I didn't mean that at all, father. I have a very good time as a
lieutenant; besides, I don't know what else I could have been.
But you know, being a lieutenant has its drawbacks; one is never
free from money difficulties, and then there is the constant fear
of getting one's discharge much earlier than one expects. It's a
horrible feeling. I really can't understand why fathers let their
sons go into the army, and least of all can I understand why retired
officers always do it. The old officers, you, father, most of all,
and those whom I met to-day at the club, are always complaining of
the injustice of being pensioned off so early; they lament that
the army is no longer what it once was; they groan over their
tiny pensions and their bodily ills, the results of long years of
campaigning; they swear at the allowance they are obliged to make
their sons. They know perfectly well, however, that he cannot manage
on it, and that he, therefore, contracts debts; they know that, at
best, their son will only be a staff-officer, and that then till his
death he will lead the same miserable, embittered life as they have.
And alas: they also know how a mistake on duty, a mis-spent evening,
an impulsive blow may ruin a young soldier, and although they know
all this they let him become a soldier. And when one day the young
officer is at the end of his tether and has to leave the army, then
there is lamentation and grieving, and, of course, no one is to blame
but the son."
"Everybody wouldn't find things as bad as you do," interposed the
major.
"You are right, but I am not speaking about myself, but of things
in general. In my regiment it happens we are nearly all the sons of
retired officers and I am constantly hearing one or other of them
complaining: 'Why on earth didn't my father let me be something else,
as he must know I can't possibly manage on the small allowance he
gives me?' Why do these old officers always send their sons to a
military college in spite of all there is against it? Because it is
cheap, and it is so very convenient to get the young rascals educated
in that way. Do you suppose that in the future the retired officers
would take it quite so much as a matter of course that their sons
should go into the army if they had to pay four or five hundred
marks a year at college instead of eighty, besides providing them
with clothes? They would not think any more about it. But now it's a
simple matter: 'Let the boy be educated cheaply, that's the thing, we
can attend to other things later on.' Privately they always reckon
upon an old uncle or aunt, and when one day they 'strike' or die,
then the lieutenant is in a fix and gets into debt, or he is expected
to live upon air. People always talk about the foolish lieutenants,
but what about the foolish parents who, to save themselves the
expense of educating them, let them adopt a profession in which it
is impossible to earn any money and the temptation to spend it is
tremendous."
"Very well delivered," said his father; "but if the officer has no
money to get his son properly educated, as was the case with me, what
is he to become?"
"Fritz ought to have been put into business," declared Hildegarde.
"If a man has no means he should choose a career in which he can make
money."
"In theory that is very beautiful and quite true," answered Fritz;
"and if many fathers were as wise as you, my charming sister, it
would be better for our officers. These first-class men, as father
called them a little while ago, would not run around and beg and
borrow and get credit, and try their luck at cards in order to try
and keep their heads above water until they find a rich wife or are
ruined."
The major had listened to his son very attentively, now he said: "I
am astonished that you, an officer's son, should talk in this way.
Who, according to your theory, should supply the army with officers
if not we?"
"First of all, only those parents who have the financial means to
provide for their sons' future; and then no one ought to be made an
officer unless he has real enthusiasm and love for his profession
and is willing, if need be, to make sacrifices and bear deprivations
for its sake. But you cannot expect that a kid who is sent to a
college at eight should know if he has any real liking for the work
of a soldier. He ought not to choose a profession until he is able
to judge for himself to a certain extent; a father ought not to send
his son into the army from motives of economy, or God knows what
other reasons, and then demand of him that he should be a model of
steadiness and conscientiousness. I know that if I had anything to
say in the matter I should abolish the Cadet Colleges."
"Ho! ho!" burst out the major, "you are becoming worse and worse."
"It will have to be," continued Fritz. "You yourself pointed out to
me a little while ago that we do not learn nearly enough at college,
but quite apart from that there is another drawback; we go into the
army too young, we are made officers in two years. Lieutenants of
eighteen and nineteen are by no means rare, and we are suddenly given
a position which no one else enjoys at that age. We get the control
of money too early without ever having learnt how to manage it. Just
think of the life at a military college, how we are watched and
protected! One dare not smoke or drink beer or go out without being
invited. One has to say how long one stayed with one's relatives----"
"But that is all very right," interposed Hildegarde.
"It may be, but it may not be: the transition to the other kind
of life is too sudden, too quick. Twenty-four hours after one has
left this college one is an ensign, and then all at once he enjoys
that complete liberty against which he was so zealously guarded
but a short time ago. One can eat and drink what one likes, one
can go where one will, in short, one can enjoy all the pleasures
of life at one go off. And so one easily oversteps the limits and
does all sorts of stupid things in the joy of having escaped such
strict surveillance. And who can blame an ensign for this? The young
ensign gets accustomed to leading an idle life, and this continues
when he becomes a lieutenant, only very few having the energy to
alter. We were lately looking over the Army List to see how many of
our contemporaries at college were still in the army, and we were
simply astonished to find how many had vanished. The education at
the Cadets' College is answerable for this--that alone. At nineteen
a man is an officer, at three-and-twenty he gets his discharge;
that happens more often than people believe, and that shows clearly
that the cadets at college have not learnt the one thing properly
that they ought to have learnt--to control themselves and to live
as officers in a suitable manner. At college far too much stress is
laid upon drill, exercise, lessons and other things, and not nearly
enough on the education of the youthful mind. There is no education
of the individual, of the character; it's all done _en bloc_, and the
college can never take the place of the home; what the child sees and
hears and learns unconsciously there, is worth a thousand times more
than what is so stringently imparted to him at college."
"But how can it be altered?" asked the major, who was deeply
interested in the conversation. The ladies, meanwhile, had risen
from the table and taken their needlework.
"I do not know," acknowledged Fritz, "but some means may be found.
The Cadets' Colleges must, as I have said, be abolished, and every
officer must have passed his matriculation, as was formerly the case
in the Marines. There should be a limit of age; in my opinion it
should be twenty, and then a man could not be a lieutenant till he
was two-and-twenty; that is quite early enough, if after that age was
no more taken into account. The age limit must be abolished. To-day
no one who has not reached a certain rank by a certain age has any
chance of making a career for himself. What is the object of keeping
the army so young by all possible means? As a result of this, every
year hundreds and hundreds of men have to seek for posts of all
kinds. New elements, new officials, new views are introduced, and
this does not tend to facilitate the training of the troops. If a man
is lieutenant at twenty-two he can be a captain at five-and-thirty, a
major at forty-four, and a colonel at eight-and-forty. Surely that is
young enough, isn't it? And if he distinguishes himself in any way he
can get his promotion earlier."
"And would that make for efficiency in time of war?"
"You can answer that better than I can. You were pensioned as
a complete invalid, but in spite of this were you not at your
discharge quite young enough and active enough to have done duty on
the field?"
"Yes, and no," grumbled the major. "I will explain what I mean. The
chief army doctor worried round me for a long time, but he could find
no wound for which he could write a certificate, so I assisted him a
little and mentioned injuries which I did not possess, and then it
was all right. But I could easily have held out for five--no, ten
years. Go into a pension office in any large town and look at the
innumerable officers who go there regularly at the first of each
month to draw their pension--a few miserable pounds. They are all
'complete invalids,' or who have been pensioned on account of their
age. Yet health and energy are to be read in their faces."
"That is just what we all say," put in Fritz. "We have been lately
talking about these things in the Casino; nothing of much value is
said, still it is interesting what the different officers think about
these matters. We are unanimous in wanting to abolish the military
college. Every lieutenant must have passed his matriculation and no
one can be an officer before he is one-and-twenty; if we once have
that, there will be a great alteration in the army."
There was a long pause; the major was ruminating over what Fritz had
just said, then he said: "In many ways you have really most sensible
ideas."
"That is what I think," Hildegarde chimed in; "I must compliment
you, Fritz. When I hear you speak so seriously, and with so much
knowledge, I can hardly recognise you as my gay and frivolous
brother."
Fritz bowed to his sister. "Very much obliged. Yes, I have at
intervals my lucid moments, they tell me that in the regiment; but,
alas! these mental illuminations are but rare. My mental darkness
only disappears when I have drunk a good deal of wine; then I begin
to think. I haven't courage at other times. From such occasions I
recognise that I am a social democrat."
"But, Fritz----"
"Well, that _is_ good! You a lieutenant and a social democrat----"
"Calm yourselves," implored Fritz. "I have not sworn brotherhood with
Bebel. When I say I am a social democrat I don't, of course, mean
that I have subscribed to the programme of that party, though I must
say the division of property would suit me well, provided I got a
good thing out of it! I only meant to say that I am a dissatisfied
aristocrat, and so are we all, from the colonel down to the youngest
lieutenant. One can't say as much as one would like to, because
naturally one has to remember the uniform one wears, but soon there
will be complaints enough, I can assure you, not only in our regiment
but in all."
"It was certainly not like that in my time," lamented the major;
"discussions we had often, of course, but----"
"Formerly things were very different, father. Formerly everybody got
his majority, now one may remain a first lieutenant for ever and be
transferred to a district command or some such thing. Formerly it
really was a day of honour and rejoicing when there was an inspection
by those high in authority, but what happens now? Everybody trembles
for weeks before it takes place, and for weeks afterwards, in the
fear that someone may get his discharge as a result of it. There
used to be a three-years' service, now the men have to get through
the same amount of work and drill in two years, and the military and
extra-military duties of to-day are not to be compared with those
of ten years ago. Ah, and the money question! I am not thinking of
myself, I am an extravagant dog, but now and again someone attempts
to live on his allowance and the authorities do all they can to
put obstacles in his way. Now it's a festival, now a guests' day,
a birthday celebration, a garden entertainment and ladies invited,
the jubilee of the regiment, a farewell dinner; even if a man wants
to be steady and economical he can't get out of the champagne--he
simply must drink with the others. Whether in former times you used
so much of your pay for presents, flowers, Casino subscriptions, and
a thousand and one other things, that I don't know. And then, the
expense of one's clothes; why, I believe I owe my tailor alone five
thousand marks. There's always some new fashion or other; new cloaks,
different caps, coats, new buttons, new scarves, and all the rest of
it. And who has to pay for all this? Why, the officer, of course. And
where does he get his money from? Of course that's his own business.
On the one hand we are warned to be steady and not fling away our
money, and on the other we are always being dragged into fresh
expenses. It will all have to be altered, or in ten years' time our
officers will be ten times more heavily in debt than even to-day.
You, father, to-day were blaming Society because we lived beyond our
means, but we officers blame the authorities. There must always be
money for regimental purposes, but nobody troubles how we live, and
then when we get into debt there's a devil of a row and we are bound
to pay up within three days. On such occasions we are threatened with
dismissal, of which the colonel also runs the risk because he was not
strict enough in preventing us from getting into debt. That is what
happened to me lately. I owed the Casino four hundred marks, and had
to face the alternative of paying within four-and-twenty hours or
undergoing five days' arrest; naturally I paid, and the colonel was
satisfied. It didn't occur to him to ask where I had got the money
from."
"And where did you get it from?"
"Borrowed it from the Jews, of course. I am not a magician and
cannot get money from the air. It's so ridiculous. One is forced to
contract new debts in order to pay off the old ones which comes to
the colonel's ears."
"Does your colonel know that you have debts?"
"Of course he knows, though, probably, he does not guess how deeply
I am involved. He says to himself, 'What I do not know does not
concern me. I need not trouble about things which are not officially
brought to my notice.' His own future and his career are of far
more importance to him than mine. He doesn't really care if I go
to the devil or not; but if I do go he may go also; so he not only
shuts both eyes, but also both ears. He doesn't want to see or hear
anything, for, of course, he knows perfectly well that I am not the
only one. If he takes action against one, he would have to against
the others, and he doesn't want to do that. He wants to become a
general; his successor can see about the officers who are in debt."
It was late when they went to bed. The father and son would have
preferred to go on talking all through the night, but the women folk
urged an adjournment; they must remember to-morrow was the day of the
festivity which would bring in its train a great deal of exertion,
visits, and congratulations of all kinds.
But, alas! the day of rejoicing was not such as had been expected. It
got about that Hildegarde had changed a cheque in her father's name,
and the news spread like lightning through the little town. Everybody
who knew of this and had any claim on the major determined to go
early in the morning, if possible, so as to be the first, and ask him
to pay his account which had been owing for ages.
They were taking their early cup of coffee when the tradesmen were
announced. The major knew what was before him and cursed and swore
like mad.
"That's what happens when you women interfere in money matters. How
could you be so stupid as to change a cheque, even if only one person
was standing by and saw you? And why was it a cheque at all? Can't
the Warnows pay the miserable few thousands (hundreds) in cash?
Nobody would then have heard of it; but now I am obliged to pay out
some of the money. But," he roared out suddenly, "I won't do it at
all. I did not think to have my sixtieth birthday spoilt by that
shameless crew. I'll see them all to the devil first."
"Shall I go and talk to these people?" asked Fritz. "I have great
experience in these things, and I can safely say that no one has ever
got anything from me. I can't understand, father, why you get so
excited over such trifles. Now, let me go and try what I can do."
He was about to go out of the room, but his mother kept him back.
"That won't do, Fritz. You don't know how often the bailiff from the
court has been here. Things have gone so far--I mean--well, you will
have to know it--up till now he has only sealed some of our furniture
and has not sold any; but if the authorities hear that we really have
money he will have to sell us up. He told us that, and we wanted to
spare papa that to-day."
"Above all things, certainly." Fritz had become serious, and
involuntarily he looked round to see the seals.
"He has only put on seals where they could not be seen," the mother
whispered to her son; "on the carpets, the piano, the bookshelf, the
pictures--briefly, all the things that stand against the walls. Oh,
it's frightful!" and she began to cry.
"Yes, that's right, cry!" roared the major. "Formerly on one's
birthday one was serenaded; now, when one is old and grey, one's wife
weeps because there is no money and the creditors are outside the
door. A man must live to be sixty to enjoy such an honour."
He stamped to and fro cursing, listening from time to time to the
people who were in the vestibule waiting for him. Suddenly he stood
in front of Hildegarde and put his hand on her shoulder.
"Eh, Hilda, you see we cannot wait much longer for your lover. Bring
him soon, before it is too late, before that rascally crew has taken
everything and sold us up and I and your mother are cast into the
street."
His words expressed such bitterness and such despair that Hildegarde
forgot all about her own feelings and how she was looked upon as
deliverer, and in grief for her parents she burst into tears.
"Number two," scolded the major. "That's right."
"Don't be unjust, father. You can't blame mother and Hildegarde for
being sad. The affair is more than unpleasant to me even."
"Then you had better begin and cry," cursed the old man, whose veins
stood out on his forehead.
"I am not thinking of myself but how these people can be satisfied
in some way or other. I did not know that any of the furniture was
sealed. You ought to have told me so." After a slight pause he asked,
"How much is it for?"
"Only two thousand marks."
"This must be paid first of all, and this very day."
"Oh, I don't think so. The seals have been all right there for a long
time."
"In spite of that the two thousand marks must be paid," continued
Fritz with determination and energy, "and if you cannot pay it I
must. I lately won a few thousands at cards, and I will give you a
couple."
The major stared at his son. "And what is the reason of this
generosity, may I ask?"
"Consideration for myself and Hildegarde. If it were conceivable that
it should ever be known in my regiment how matters stood with you
here, I should not only lose my position, but also my credit, and
that might have consequences which would not be pleasant for either
of us. And one must consider Hildegarde. Just imagine if in the next
few weeks, or perhaps in the next few days, Hilda's prospective lover
were to pay you a visit and by some unfortunate chance caught sight
of the seals. The fellow would have to be a downright idiot if this
did not open his eyes to the fact that he was only being married for
his money. And this knowledge must not come before the marriage, it
must be prevented at all cost. If you can't do this I must."
The major had sunk into a chair and was gazing gloomily in front of
him, the two ladies were softly crying.
Fritz got up and went to his mother. "I will go and talk to these
people. Will you give me the six thousand marks, it can't be helped."
"The dear money!" The major groaned; for the first time for many a
day he had been able to sleep the whole night through without being
awakened by anxious thoughts. The consciousness of having six
thousand marks in the house in cash had filled him with great joy and
given him a feeling of tranquillity and security. And now the people
stood outside who were to take his money from him.
"Fritz," he said, turning to his son, "you promise me to do the best
you can with these people. Don't pay it all away or we shall not have
any money in the house."
"I can manage with the housekeeping till the first," the mother said;
"I have still a hundred marks."
"And I can give you another hundred, mamma," put in Hildegarde. "Aunt
gave me more than I needed for travelling expenses."
"And I will contribute a hundred marks also," said Fritz. He had
really no feeling for his family, but the poverty that reigned seemed
to him so horribly unsuited to their social position he must give a
helping hand, partly indeed on his own account, so as not to be the
son of a beggar.
Fritz turned to the door once again. "You are quite sure you want me
to talk to these people, father, or would you rather----"
But the major declined. "No, no, you go, I should get into a temper;
do what you can."
Fritz went into the next room and summoned all the creditors who were
standing outside. They were all workmen or tradesmen. All knew Fritz
personally, and greeted him in a friendly fashion and were very
deferential in their behaviour.
In the regiment Fritz was regarded as excessively haughty and proud,
but when he wanted to get anything out of a person he could be
exceedingly amiable. He shook hands now with all, asked after the
health of their families, and now and again joked with them. He had
indeed already half won the battle when he said, "My father, who is
not feeling very well to-day, has requested me to speak to you and to
settle your accounts so far as he is in a position to do so. There
are, indeed, rather a lot," he said laughingly, "but we shall be able
to make an arrangement; naturally we cannot pay all at once. You know
that in consequence of the failure of his bank my father has lost a
great deal"--then he went on with his fabrications--"but within the
next few months we shall get a large sum of money from the family
estates, and then each of you will be paid to the uttermost farthing.
To-day we can only pay part, and I am sure you will all agree to
this. You know, perhaps, that to-day my father is celebrating his
sixtieth birthday, and I am sure you would not wish to spoil the day
when he might be so happy with his wife and children."
No, they did not want to do that; naturally they knew the money would
be quite safe, only they had heard that yesterday the respected major
had received a large sum of money, and they only wanted to see if
they could not secure a little of it.
Fritz listened to these words with joy; these people were much more
sensible, and above all much more respectful than he had dared to
hope; mentally he put aside a thousand marks for his parents. If he
divided five thousand marks (£250) among these tradespeople they
would be more than satisfied.
He had the bills given to him, and a joyful smile played on his lips
when he added up the amounts; the whole lot amounted to only ten
thousand marks (£500). "I shall save another thousand," he thought to
himself; then he called up each one singly, spoke to him cheerfully
and arranged things as he wanted. All declared that they were quite
satisfied to have received a fourth of their accounts, the remainder
to be paid within three months.
It was a good hour before Fritz had finished; from each he exacted a
written statement that he would not press for money during the next
few months nor send in any accounts. To keep the people in a good
humour all this time he had given them wine and offered them cigars.
They took the wine and with Fritz drank his father's health, but they
did not venture to smoke in the presence of the honoured lieutenant
and in the respected major's apartments.
At last they departed; Fritz shook hands with them once again,
and with a friendly word they all parted good friends. From the
passage the laughter of the departing ones penetrated into the
breakfast-room, where the others were awaiting the result of the
interview.
Beaming with joy, Fritz returned and laid the two thousand marks on
the table. "Well, father, I've rescued that for you; for the present
they are all satisfied and for three months you have a respite.
Before the time is up Hilda will long have been married, and even if
she is only engaged I'll manage to get you the few pounds. I've done
more difficult things than that. But one thing I should like to know,
father: surely these few debts, amounting in all to ten thousand
marks, didn't deprive you of your night's rest? I thought they would
have been at least seventy or eighty thousand."
"I thought so too; perhaps there are a lot more. I never had the
courage to add them all up."
"Unless one can pay them there's not much point in doing so," said
Fritz, with indifference; then, partly out of curiosity, partly from
real interest, he asked, "What other debts have you then, father?"
"All over the place; the bills are turning grey with age, and some
indeed are really primeval."
"In that case a lot of them are no longer valid."
"But Fritz," cried Hildegarde, "you surely wouldn't take advantage
of that? The tradesmen must have their money."
"Very easy to say that, but where is it to come from?" objected the
major. "I haven't any money--at any rate, not for the moment."
"Have you any bills or I O U's out?" inquired Fritz. "You must not be
offended with me for asking you this, but I have been to a certain
extent your business agent to-day. I should like to have a clear idea
of how matters stand."
"No," his father assured him, "I have never given any of these, but I
am indebted to all my friends; one for four thousand (£250), another
three thousand (£150), a third a thousand (£50), and so on."
"Oh, well, you need not grow grey because of these; whoever
lends money to a friend knows perfectly well in nine hundred
and ninety-nine cases out of a thousand he will not get it back
again. And I really see absolutely no reason why you should be the
exception. Whoever lent you money knew perfectly well he would not
see it again."
"Yes, yes, that is all very well," grumbled the old major, "but the
people only lent me the money because I told them of Hildegarde's
prospective engagement."
"Father, really----" cried Hildegarde. She blushed crimson and was
beside herself with indignation. "It is not enough that you think
and talk about nothing else but my possible engagement, but you must
also tell strangers about it in order to get credit."
The mother laid her hand gently on her shoulder. "But, Hilda, you
must not take it in that way; we only spoke about it to intimate
friends."
The major also tried to calm her, but Hildegarde would not be
pacified. "I cannot go out in the town any more, you have made it
impossible for me here. Now I understand the veiled allusions of
mamma's friends yesterday when they inquired so sympathetically after
my health. I shall go away to-morrow; I will not stay here a day
longer."
"This is certainly a delightful birthday celebration," snarled the
major, and he struck the table a violent blow with his fist.
"Hildegarde will be all right again directly," said Fritz, "she's a
sensible girl; naturally these money complications have upset her.
This afternoon she will be her old self again. Now I must go and
arrange matters with the bailiff or the champagne will not taste
good."
But although by the afternoon the seals had been removed from the
furniture the champagne somehow or other was not successful. A dark
shadow lay over the house, and remained there, and when at last the
major went to bed he had to confess that he had never spent so sad a
birthday as the day when he reached the age of sixty.