Part 34 (1/2)

Now, instead of turning this highly-developed intelligence to good account, they bound it hand and foot on the rack of an everlasting drill, which could not have been more soullessly mechanical in the time of Frederick the Great. And they expected this purely mechanical drill to hold together men from whom all joyful spontaneity was taken by the stiff, wooden formalism of their duty, and not a few of whom cherished the very opposite of patriotism in their b.r.e.a.s.t.s! Drill was to maintain discipline among them? It held them together as an iron hoop holds together a cask, the dry staves of which would fall asunder at the first kick!

Confronting the men stood their officers, who, although many of them actuated by the most honourable intentions, were quite incompetent to guide the recruits to a convinced and conscious obedience, a voluntary patriotism. The officer, as a consequence of his origin or education, was separated by a veritable abyss from the sensations and thoughts of the common soldier; and, on the other hand, the soldier was unable to understand the spirit in which he was treated by the officer. It thus came about that the officer for the most part had a pretty low opinion of the privates, while the private did not fail to form his own conclusions as to the officers.

The constancy with which the German corps of officers clung to the old principles of army organisation was worthy of a better cause. Pinning their faith to their glorious traditions, all criticism was set down as malicious gossip, even if it came from their own midst. To an ideal of such doubtful value they devoted their industry and strength. And it was strange how little the a.n.a.logy of the miserable year 1806 shook military self-confidence, despite the startling points of resemblance. Now, as then, the complaint was of the one-sided reactionary training of the officers, which must separate them from the forward movement of the people; now, as then, there was a kind of hidebound narrow-mindedness, too often degenerating into overweening self-conceit, making them a laughing-stock to civilians; and, finally, now as then, there were the same stiff, wooden regulations, the mechanical drill, which, despite all personal bravery, failed utterly before the convinced enthusiastic onrush of the revolutionary army. But worse than defeat in battles was the cowardly capitulation of strongholds which ensued. The commanders of those days certainly understood how to command the evolutions of a battalion, how to direct a parade march, and how to ensure that all pigtails were of the regulation length; but despite all the drill and all the pedantry, they remained strangers to the inspiration which inaugurated a new era of military service--the new patriotism, the love of one's country. They had stood in a strongly personal relations.h.i.+p to their king but it no longer sufficed to save them. They had shouted ”Long live the king!”

thousands of times; yet they betrayed the king when they presumed he had lost because they knew no better.

They had _played_ too long at being soldiers to be able really to be soldiers.

Subsequently such men as Scharnhorst, Boyen, and Gneisenau directed the military service into the new paths of allegiance to the nation; a work which was crowned by the unexampled successes of the years 1870-71.

But since that epoch, while the foundation of the system--the people themselves--had with each new year altered and progressed in every relation of life, yet the system itself had remained unchanged, and the German officer's devotion to duty, similarly unchanged, was largely wasted by being directed into worn-out channels.

Again, it must be deeply deplored that promotions were no longer due to military efficiency alone, but also to victories achieved at the courts of princes. To this circ.u.mstance, opening up, as it did, an anything but rea.s.suring view of the good faith of the authorities, was to be added yet another, also tending to undermine the soundness of the army: the ever-increasing luxury apparent in military circles. Of necessity, and in the true interests of the army, the best material in the corps of officers--the members of the old n.o.ble and gentle ”army n.o.bility”--were careful to shun this vice. These officers, whose families had often served the king as soldiers for four or five generations, held fast to a Spartan simplicity of life, and to the old Prussian independence of material comforts, and with them were all those who regarded their vocation as something loftier than an amus.e.m.e.nt. Otherwise, a most unsoldierlike luxury was spreading unhindered in all directions, causing the young subalterns especially to neglect their duties, and rendering them in great measure absolutely unfit for real hard work and privations. And despite the numerous orders levelled against them, these tendencies continued to increase, because of the lack of a good example in high quarters.

The plain and simple uniform in which so many great victories had been won no longer sufficed. New embellishments medals, cords, tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, or what not were eternally being devised. As though such mere external trumpery could create anew the now waning love for military service!

In what striking contrast stood the magnificent goblets of delicate porcelain and other costly materials, in which the officers of the Chinese Expedition offered champagne to their French comrades, to that broken-footed gla.s.s cup out of which--and in abominably bad wine--King William drank to the victors of St. Privat!

All became clear to Guntz as he wrote, and he felt as though a heavy burden were being lifted from his shoulders.

He concluded: ”I can no longer regard as valuable the work which as an officer it is my duty to perform, and have therefore decided to resign my commission. Although I am only one small wheel in a large and complicated machine, I have still the right to give my opinion; and I am making use of that right because I recognise that the mechanical power which drives this machine is threatened with paralysis, and will, in my view, infallibly succ.u.mb unless there is an entire reconstruction of the whole fabric. That, I fear, is not to be expected within any reasonable time.”

He laid down his pen, and looked thoughtfully at the closely written sheets.

Everything that he had set down had been well considered and frequently thought over; but was it right, after all, to send in his application just at this moment? Was it right for him to break the vow he had made to himself that he would test himself carefully, that he would pa.s.s a year in command of the battery before making his final decision? Ought he not to stand by the calling to which his life had been dedicated, until he could resign quite voluntarily, fully convinced, and without any extraneous considerations? Without, for instance, the danger of losing his life through the custom of this calling--a custom, just or unjust, but which at any rate was in operation and perfectly well known to him?

The lamp under the green shade began to burn less brightly, and flickered with a quick hissing sound. The hands of the cuckoo-clock pointed to half-past four.

Guntz got up and stretched himself. He walked firmly to the window, pushed the curtains far back, and opened both sides of the cas.e.m.e.nt.

Outside the warm summer's night was giving place to the dawn of day. A cool morning breeze blew into the room, fluttering the curtains, and extinguis.h.i.+ng the lamp's weak flame. It cooled the man's eyes and filled his lungs with fresh air.

Guntz drew himself up. He returned to the writing-table, placed the loose leaves carefully in order, and locked them in a drawer.

Right or wrong he would keep his word.

He scribbled a few words on a sheet of paper: ”My Klare, I love you unspeakably. You and the boy. Be brave!”

He glanced round to see where he should lay the paper. In the end he folded it up, and put it under a meteoric stone, shaped like a fungus, which during their honeymoon he had found on the sand-dunes of the Heligoland coast.

The servant knocked, and brought in the coffee. He had found the senior-lieutenant's bed untouched, and his face showed his surprise.

The coffee was too hot, but the water in the carafe was deliciously cold. Guntz damped his handkerchief and wiped the ravages of the night from his brow and eyes.

Then he went again to the window and the refres.h.i.+ng morning breeze. He was in good spirits. He felt as if nothing untoward could happen to him that day.

There was a sound of hoofs in the street outside. The groom had brought the brown mare. He held the animal before the garden gate and carefully took a piece of straw out of her mane.

Guntz told him to walk her quietly up and down. He must wait for Reimers, who would be sure to come directly.