Unser Karl

The American consul for Schlachtstadt had just turned out of the broad

Konig's Allee into the little square that held his consulate. Its residences

always seemed to him to wear that singularly uninhabited air peculiar to a

street scene in a theatre. The facades, with their stiff, striped wooden

awnings over the windows, were of the regularity, color, and pattern only

seen on the stage, and conversation carried on in the street below always

seemed to be invested with that perfect confidence and security which

surrounds the actor in his painted desert of urban perspective. Yet it was

a peaceful change to the other byways and highways of Schlachtstadt

which were always filled with an equally unreal and mechanical soldiery,

who appeared to be daily taken out of their boxes of "caserne" or "depot"

and loosely scattered all over the pretty linden-haunted German town.

There were soldiers standing on street corners; soldiers staring woodenly

into shop windows; soldiers halted suddenly into stone, like lizards, at the

approach of Offiziere; Offiziere lounging stiffly four abreast, sweeping the

pavement with their trailing sabres all at one angle. There were

cavalcades of red hussars, cavalcades of blue hussars, cavalcades of

Uhlans, with glittering lances and pennons--with or without a band--

formally parading; there were straggling "fatigues" or "details" coming

round the corners; there were dusty, businesslike columns of infantry,

going nowhere and to no purpose. And they one and all seemed to be

WOUND UP--for that service--and apparently always in the same place. In

the band of their caps--invariably of one pattern--was a button, in the

centre of which was a square opening or keyhole. The consul was always

convinced that through this keyhole opening, by means of a key, the

humblest caporal wound up his file, the Hauptmann controlled his

lieutenants and non-commissioned officers, and even the general himself,

wearing the same cap, was subject through his cap to a higher moving

power. In the suburbs, when the supply of soldiers gave out, there were

sentry-boxes; when these dropped off, there were "caissons," or

commissary wagons. And, lest the military idea should ever fail from out

the Schlachtstadt's burgher's mind, there were police in uniform, streetsweepers in uniform; the ticket-takers, guards, and sweepers at the

Bahnhof were in uniform,--but all wearing the same kind of cap, with the

probability of having been wound up freshly each morning for their daily

work. Even the postman delivered peaceful invoices to the consul with his

side-arms and the air of bringing dispatches from the field of battle; and

the consul saluted, and felt for a few moments the whole weight of his

consular responsibility.

Yet, in spite of this military precedence, it did not seem in the least

inconsistent with the decidedly peaceful character of the town, and this

again suggested its utter unreality; wandering cows sometimes got mixed

up with squadrons of cavalry, and did not seem to mind it; sheep passed

singly between files of infantry, or preceded them in a flock when on the

march; indeed, nothing could be more delightful and innocent than to see

a regiment of infantry in heavy marching order, laden with every

conceivable thing they could want for a week, returning after a cheerful

search for an invisible enemy in the suburbs, to bivouac peacefully among

the cabbages in the market-place. Nobody was ever imposed upon for a

moment by their tremendous energy and severe display; drums might

beat, trumpets blow, dragoons charge furiously all over the Exercier Platz,

or suddenly flash their naked swords in the streets to the guttural

command of an officer--nobody seemed to mind it. People glanced up to

recognize Rudolf or Max "doing their service," nodded, and went about

their business. And although the officers always wore their side-arms, and

at the most peaceful of social dinners only relinquished their swords in the

hall, apparently that they might be ready to buckle them on again and

rush out to do battle for the Fatherland between the courses, the other

guests only looked upon these weapons in the light of sticks and

umbrellas, and possessed their souls in peace. And when, added to this

singular incongruity, many of these warriors were spectacled, studious

men, and, despite their lethal weapons, wore a slightly professional air,

and were--to a man--deeply sentimental and singularly simple, their

attitude in this eternal Kriegspiel seemed to the consul more puzzling

than ever.