'Jena' or 'Sedan'?

by Franz Beyerlein.

CHAPTER I

"Must I go, must I go, Away into the town?"

(_Swabian Folk-song._)

Franz Vogt was on his way home. He carried a neatly tied-up parcel containing the under-linen and the boots that he had been buying in the town. He had trodden this same road a countless number of times during his life; but now that he must bid good-bye to it so soon, the old familiar surroundings presented themselves to him in a new light.

Of course it was not good-bye for ever, nor was it even as though he were going to America. At the most he would only be away for his two years of military service, and between-whiles there would, he supposed, be leave now and again; moreover, this was not the first time he had left the village. But there was one circ.u.mstance peculiar to this going away he was obliged to go.

Franz Vogt did not trouble his head much about the why and the wherefore of this obligation. He reasoned it out thus: Germany had enemies--the French and the Russians, to wit--who might some day and for some unknown reason begin a war; therefore, of course, it behoved Germany to keep watch and ward, and for that soldiers were necessary.

Furthermore, there was a certain consolation in the thought that this authoritative call took no respect of persons; the sons of the two richest peasants in the village had been called up just like himself--they to the Uhlans, he to the field-artillery.

The life, however, must be so different from anything hitherto experienced that one could not but feel a little nervous about it. For the men on leave whom he had come across were never tired of talking about the hard words and harder usage that fell to a soldier's lot.

Never mind! hard words break no bones. He was strong and active; no one had done better than he in athletics. One must take things as they come, and perhaps after all they won't turn out as bad as they have been painted.

The young man pushed his hat back from his brow and began to whistle as he stepped forward more briskly.

It was fairly warm for October. The broad dusty road that led onward up the hill lay shining as brightly in the sun as if it were July and the corn rising on either side, tall and golden. But instead the stubble showed in paler streaks against the darker ground that was already prepared for a new sowing. Further on in the valley green meadows stretched away to the border-line of a forest.

On the hither side of those woods, but disappearing at last in the dense verdure, ran the straight line of the railway. A cloud of white smoke could just be seen above the trees, and then the train would glide out into the open. By that line Franz Vogt must travel on the morrow to the place where he would have to sojourn for the next two years; and again the thought, "How shall I get on there?" forced itself upon his mind, and absorbed his thoughts until he reached the cross-roads where stood the paternal dwelling. Years ago, when toll was still levied on the highway, it had been the gate-keeper's cottage; and Franz Vogt's father, the last turnpike-keeper, had bought it from the State when the toll was abolished. Nearly twenty years had gone by since the white-painted barrier had been let down at night for the last time, but the little house remained the same in appearance. His father had even stuck the old barrier up in the garden, and had nailed at the top a box for the starlings to nest in; every spring a pair of birds built there.

And his father himself, how little he had altered! Only the beard, which he wore after the fashion of the old Emperor William, had become more and more grey, and the hair of his head had retreated from the crown in an ever-widening circle.

But the old man who now stepped to the door held himself as stiff and erect as ever; the eyes looked forth from beneath the bushy eyebrows with a stern yet kindly gaze, and the deep voice rang out with military precision and sharpness.

"Why, boy," he cried, "you're looking quite dashed! Shaking in your shoes about to-morrow, eh? See what comes of having a woman for your mother! Come along in." He preceded his son into the parlour, and made him exhibit his purchases.

"Dear, very dear, all these odds and ends!" he grumbled; but finally declared himself pleased that Franz had preserved intact a good portion of the money entrusted to him.

"That you can keep," said his father; "for you know at first you'll have nothing more from me. By-and-bye, perhaps, a few groschen now and then; but first you must learn to shift for yourself. That's always good for one. I had to get along on my pay the whole time, from the first year to the fifteenth. Now go up and pack your traps, and make everything ship-shape."

At supper the fare was no more sumptuous than usual; but Franz was surprised to see that his father had set out two smoked sausages instead of one.

"To-morrow, boy," said the old man, "you'll have regimental black bread. Good nourishing stuff! You'll soon like it." And pointing to the two long fat sausages, he continued:

"And the remains of those sausages can go in your box. You shall pack them up."

The two men ate off wooden platters, and cut up their bread and sausage with their pocket-knives; there was nothing to do afterwards but to gather up the fragments and carry the plates into the kitchen.

An old woman came every morning to do the housework and prepare the midday meal, and every afternoon the turnpike keeper waited with repressed impatience till the door had closed behind her. Then he felt better.

When Franz had put the sausage in his box and come downstairs again, he found his father with cap in hand, ready to go out.

"Come, boy," he said, "let's stretch our legs a bit."

They went past the village, and wandered for a while in silence under the starry heavens. Then the old man began to speak less briskly and decidedly than was his wont.

"Look you, my boy, to-morrow you will be standing on your own feet, as it were; you'll be responsible for yourself. For it's like this: before one has served one is a silly youth: but afterwards, a man.

Therefore you want something that you can steer by; and I tell you, you must make a rule for yourself that you can look to. The printed ones--they're only just by the way. Always ask yourself: is it right, is it honest, what you're doing? If yes, then fire away! And when you don't know exactly one way or the other, then just think: could you tell your old father about it and look him straight in the eyes?"

He had a heavy load of cares and hopes on his mind for the welfare of this son, the only thing left him to love; but he broke short off.

He felt himself incapable of expressing clearly the result of the experience gained during his sixty years of life. He lived himself by that gathered wisdom, and it had pa.s.sed into his flesh and bone; but the right words failed him when he would have imparted it to his son.

Friedrich August Vogt and his twin sister had been born in 1840, the little-prized children of an unmarried mother, who had vanished one day and left no trace. Probably she had died in a ditch. The children were taken into an orphanage, on leaving which the girl had gone to service, while the boy had become a soldier and climbed the ladder of promotion to the rank of sergeant, receiving the silver medal for bravery, and at St. Privat the iron cross. In command over others he proved strict and just; and though a.s.suming an outwardly harsh, bearish manner, he looked after those who were under him with indefatigable and almost fatherly care. His whole endeavour throughout those fifteen years had been to stand blameless, not only in the eyes of his superiors, but, what was more important still, in his own.

His comrades disliked the quiet, serious man, and Vogt himself was just as little drawn to their frivolous ways; nor had women any attraction for him. He was sufficient unto himself, and looked neither for friend nor wife; but though he had grown up independent of love, he yet craved to win for himself some modest amount of grateful recognition within the narrow limits of the service, and he felt richly rewarded if a reservist when bidding good-bye gripped his hand and muttered a few clumsy words of grat.i.tude. Of such were many good-for-nothings whom he had saved from dangerous follies and their inevitable punishment, not by rough words, but by kindly counsel. When he eventually doffed his uniform he had nothing with which to reproach himself; no neglect and no overstepping of duty, no injustice and no improper leniency; he had good cause for self-satisfaction.

He was given the post of turnpike-keeper in recognition of his good service, and could then carry out a long-cherished wish: he took his sister to live with him. But he did not long enjoy her companionship.

She left him after but a few years, during which she succeeded--not without difficulty--in bringing some sort of brightness into the life of her grave brother. She foresaw that he would in all probability lapse into deeper and deeper gloom when she was no longer there; and on her deathbed she joined his hand with that of a girl some years younger than herself, with whom she had struck up a firm friendship. They respected the wishes of the dead, married, and lived together happily, thinking themselves the most fortunate of mortals when a son was born to them. But August Vogt was doomed to loneliness, for his wife died when the boy was just old enough to go to school.

Shortly after this Vogt inherited a small property from his wife's father, and the toll on the highway being at the same time abolished, he bought the now superfluous house cheap from the State, and set up as a peasant proprietor. He had now a new source of pride: that this land, which he watered with his sweat, should bring forth abundantly; that his cattle, whom no strange hand might touch, should be the sleekest and fattest of all. Solitary and unaided he laboured in house and field, as if wishing to defy that fate which had torn from him the only two people he had loved. As he could love them no longer he had rather be quite alone, save for the little chap who trotted after him everywhere, and--looking almost as grave and preoccupied as his father--copied with his tiny gardening tools everything he saw his father do. In course of time the child became a more and more useful helper, till at last the two in equal comradeship spent their entire energies on the land, by whose produce they were almost exclusively nourished, with the addition of the milk from their own cow.

In the evening they sat opposite to each other, resting after their toil. Occasionally, with a youth's eagerness for adventure, the younger man would ask the elder to recount those military experiences to which the decorations in the cash-box bore testimony; but the father gave only scanty and unwilling replies. He bethought himself how in those days of St. Privat they had stormed a burning village, rushing through a fine field of ripe oats, and how a man had fallen next to him--a boyish drummer--with a bullet in his throat. In dying he had grasped and torn up the golden ears; and he held a bunch of them in his dead hand, all dyed in his blood like some red flag.

Oh yes, he was proud of his medal and his cross, notwithstanding a sort of doubt that he could not suppress. An ever-widening gulf now separated him from that famous past; and it gave him a certain sense of discomfort, in the midst of this life of creative labour, to think of a time devoted chiefly, after all, to death and destruction.

It was from this feeling that he had abandoned his first intention of making his son follow his own old profession. There was no hurry.

When the youngster was serving his time, he could decide to join on if he liked.

And now one thing was certain: it was very tiresome that his son should be called up just at this moment. Of course he mustn't let the boy see it; but he felt it hard, all the same. The recruiting-sergeant had pointed out to him that he could claim his son if he could show that the lad was indispensable to his work. But August Vogt was too honourable for that. Certainly he was sixty years of age; but even had he been ninety he would have managed to keep things going. Still, it was hard.

The father was probably heavier of heart than the son, as they paced through the night together; but when they stood once more before their door, after making a somewhat lengthy round, he only said: "Well, well, young 'un; you'll often think of this. Now sleep well, your last night at home."

And as his son went off upstairs he added softly to himself, "My dear good boy!"

Early next day Franz Vogt departed.

The greater number of the recruits left the train when it reached the capital, and it was only a small company that proceeded onwards to the little garrison town.

Two or three non-commissioned officers received the detachment when it ultimately arrived at its destination. The recruits were then formed into squads and conducted to a large exercise-ground. The main body, hailing from the coal-mines and factories of the neighbouring mountain district, had already arrived by special train. There must have been about four hundred men altogether. Two or three officers, and numerous non-commissioned officers with helmets and shoulder-straps, were standing about. An endless calling over of names began. Those who were told off to the first battery were taken first, and were led away as soon as their number was complete. Then came those of the second battery, then the third, and so on. The other recruits stood looking dully in front of them, while those whose names were called out pressed forward through the ranks with feverish haste, jostling every one else with their boxes and bundles.

Franz Vogt listened at first full of expectation. Each time he thought that his name would be the next; but when the third battery had marched off without him his interest began to flag, and he thought he would take a look round. What he saw was not very encouraging. The large square exercise-ground was strewn with a fine black dust, c.o.ke-refuse, evidently; on three sides it was surrounded by a wooden paling through which bare fields could be seen, and, in the direction of the town, miserable-looking vegetable-gardens in all the desolation of autumn. On the fourth side was an irregular row of buildings; first a long shed with windows at wide intervals, before which stood a sentry, who gazed across at the recruits with great curiosity; next a forge, from the door of which a grimy blacksmith and his a.s.sistants were watching, and a soldier in a grey jacket was leading out a black mare that had just been shod; then came another shed with large gates, one of which was open, and a number of men inside were busily engaged around a gun with cloths and brushes.

At length the names of the men belonging to the last--the sixth battery were read out. Franz Vogt counted them for want of something better to do--his own was the nineteenth on the list; he answered with a loud "Here!" and hurried forward. The corporal, who was arranging his men in ranks of six abreast, was a little man with a red face, flashing eyes, and a heavy dark moustache over a mouth whence continually issued objurgations and reprimands. When Vogt with quick comprehension placed himself at the beginning of a new row he gave a nod of satisfaction, and the young recruit felt mildly gratified that he had at any rate begun well.

As soon as the recruits told off to the sixth battery were in order they were marched off, two non-commissioned officers in front, one on either side, and another behind. It looked almost as if they were prisoners with a military escort.

The road went through part of the town and then took a curve round a corner into a street that led out into the open country. Broad fields stretched on either hand, those on the right separated from the road by a stream, alongside of which ran a branch railway line. Beyond these fields rose steep, spa.r.s.ely-wooded hills, showing in some places the bare rock.

A good way up the valley the walls of a large ma.s.s of buildings gleamed white in the sunshine. The little corporal in front turned round and cried, "Those are your future quarters, boys!"

Vogt felt glad they were not in the town with its close alleys, but out in the open country, where one could feel nearer the fertile mother-earth; where the eye had an uninterrupted out-look, and where one could watch the sprouting and blossoming of springtime.