Chapter IV
THE CASE OF SERGEANT SCHMITZ
Late in the forenoon of a raw day in autumn Vice-Sergeant-Major Roth was seated in his comfortably heated room, and near him Sergeant Schmitz. Each was enjoying a cup of coffee.
The quarters occupied by Roth were situated on the second story of the regimental barracks, and made at first sight the impression of elegance and almost wealth, precisely as though the occupant were a member of the upper ten thousand.[8] It required a closer examination to become convinced that a good deal of these apparently costly trappings, as well as the furniture and wall decorations, was not what it seemed, and that, to produce by all means the effect sought for, taste and appropriateness had been sacrificed. The wall paper of arabesques in green and blue, which the government had furnished, did not harmonize with the hangings or carpets. The paintings on the wall were cased in heavy gilt or oak frames, so unskilfully placed as to conceal in spots the very wall itself. Above the scarlet plush sofa hung a reproduction of Lenbach’s “Prince Bismarck,” and to right and left of it abominable oil chromos representing horses. Against the opposite wall stood a piano in stained oak, showing glittering silver-plated candelabra. Neither Roth himself nor his worthy better half, formerly saleswoman in a shop, possessed the slightest knowledge of the art of manipulating such an instrument. But there was a story connected with this showy piece of furniture—a story that even now, years after the events themselves occurred, brought tears of rage to the eyes of the “Vice.” To the young corporal of his own squadron who on Sunday afternoons strummed on the piano, he used to say in pathetic accents, that those “one year’s volunteers”[9] had treated him most outrageously; and from his own point of view he was probably right.
During the first year of their married life the “Frau Vice-Sergeant-Major,” full of a sense of her new dignity, had painfully felt the lack of an “upright” or, better still, a “grand,” inasmuch as she regarded such an instrument as an irrefutable evidence of belonging to the higher walks of life. She asserted, besides, that in her girlhood she had received instruction on the piano,—an assertion which nobody was able to dispute because that period lay about a generation back. She admitted that she had forgotten whatever of piano playing she might ever have known; but she felt quite sure that a piano in her parlor would restore the lost nimbus, and then—perhaps the most potent reason of all—the wife of her husband’s “colleague” in the second squadron owned a piano, and had taken great care to let her know the fact soon after she had become Frau Roth.
Roth himself, probably under the influence of his partner’s urgings, had frequently and with due emphasis spoken to that year’s crop of “one year’s men” about the great musical talents of his wife, now, alas! lying fallow for want of a piano of her own, and he had coupled these remarks with plaints that the smallness of his resources prevented the purchase of such an instrument. These remarks, coming from one who had it virtually in his power to obtain for each one of the “one year’s men” promotion after the fall manœuvres, had at last borne fruit. One day the aforesaid stained oak piano had been unloaded at Roth’s door, accompanied by a round-robin from the volunteers themselves, in which they waxed duly enthusiastic over his wife’s imaginary musical proficiency. Of course, the supposed gift had been accepted, and of course every one of the supposed donors was advanced in rank the following autumn, due to Roth’s brilliant testimonials of their prowess and exceptional fitness for a higher grade.
Roth never saw these “one year’s men” again, but about a week after their departure from the regiment a cart stopped before his door, and the driver said he had come to take the piano back to the factory, the term of pre-paid hire having expired. Decidedly a dirty trick on the part of these young fellows, all the more so as Frau Roth had by this time bragged so much about her piano to every one of her female friends and neighbors, to whom she had represented it as a belated wedding gift from a far-away uncle! The couple agreed it would never do to return the instrument to the makers, and thus it was that the Roths were still paying for this piano in monthly instalments, one “gold fox”[10] each time, a number of years afterwards, with quite a long time yet to run. No reasonable person will blame Vice-Sergeant-Major Roth for the aforementioned tears of rage.
Hanging above the piano, one could admire a huge steel engraving of Vernet’s “Funeral Banquet,” also in an expensive frame (the gift of a parting young soldier, son of a wealthy farmer); while antlers, Japanese fans, a peacock’s tail, etc., helped to produce a somewhat incongruous ensemble. There was a pretty mahogany stand, on the various shelves of which stood a large china punch-bowl, six green Rhine-wine glasses (both gifts from other “grateful” recruits). There was also a solid oak writing-table, on one corner of which Frau Roth had stood the cages for her canary birds, just then in the interesting stage of breeding, and therefore voiceless. A huge portrait of the Kaiser, with two crossed sabres and a pair of pistols under it, and a cuckoo clock were exhibited on the wall close by. There was also a big flower table, but on near view it was seen that its fine roses and tulips had not originated in a hothouse, but under the scissors of an artist in tissue paper.
On the floor were to be seen two white goat-skins and three small mats of domestic make, as well as a genuine Kelim (gift from “one year’s men”), and a thick plush table-cover, as well as plush draperies, helped to make an impression which, combined as it was of so many ill-fitting details, was far from the one intended.
Glancing at the lowering sky through the east windows of this room, big, shapeless clouds of gray could be observed slowly driving along; it looked, in fact, like a cheerless and stormy ocean, monotonous in its uniform tint. Now and then showers of cold hail or rain tore away from this chaos, and, pitched hither and thither by howling winds, swept across the town or over the desolate fields.