We often studied the old battlefields, so fiercely contested in 1870, and F—— would point out to us just where the different regiments advanced and fell. A long way off seemed the horrors of war, and we never dreamed what much greater horrors were soon to descend on us.
We loved the Bavarians with their kind artistic souls in those days, and yet they tell me they were among the worst in the early days in Belgium.
The military spirit was rampant in Metz, of course, and we got to know that side of it well, as some of the officers had English wives, who were very good to us. The delightful manners of the officers always charmed us; we were told they are trained to social manners by their superior officers. The cavalry regiments were the smartest ones, both in Metz and Darmstadt, the Infantry being solidly aristocratic, but less dashing. The Pioniere (Engineers) were rather despised socially, while the poor Train or Commissariat, was utterly looked down upon and hardly bowed to. The Bavarian infantry has its special social standing, because the old nobility is largely represented in it. What they lack in riches they make up in pride. All the other German infantry regiments wear dark blue trousers, no matter what colour their tunics; the Bavarians, however, have stuck to their light blue trousers, in spite of all attempts to change them. The Prince Regent was famous for wearing his much too long, and very wrinkled over badly fitting boots. The smartest officers wore the Ballon Muetze (balloon cap) introduced by the Crown Prince and ineffectually forbidden by his father. It is called "balloon" because it is much higher than the ones worn by less smart officers. The height of the collar is the other important thing. In a sterling officer of the old school, it is low and comfy; the smarter you are the higher your collar. If they are fat, the two or three creases at the back of the neck above the collar, always look to me unmistakably—German.
The life they lead is in general very simple, according to our ideas. Their Casino is their meeting place in the evening, like an officers' club. Some of them are tremendously hard workers, most ambitious, and showing real interest in their men. F—— used to teach his more illiterate ones to read and write, and many were the stories he told of the thick-headed Bavarian peasants. The difference in these men, when we saw them arriving in the fall, as rookies, and after a year's training, was absolutely amazing; slumped shoulders had straightened, lower jaws had decided to connect with upper ones, and eyes focused intelligently. Each officer has his Bursch or private servant, who usually chooses to be one. These are treated as friends by their masters, if the latter happen to be non-Prussian in character. I said once to F——, "Is Karl your servant?" "No, he is mein Freund" he said.
An officer in Diedenhofen where we occasionally sang while I was with the Metz opera, used to send me gorgeous flowers. He had a way of sitting near the stage and applauding by flapping his handkerchief against the palm of his white kid glove, which so enraged me that I never acknowledged the flowers. One night, an ugly old contralto took my part, as I was laid up, and that was the night the officer had selected to present me with a huge basket of white azaleas and blue satin ribbon. The old dame rewarded the house in general with a false-teeth smile on receiving them over the footlights, which must have discouraged my admirer as the flowers stopped abruptly.
We quite often saw young officers very drunk on the streets in Metz, at about five in the afternoon. Asking F—— about this, we were told that it was only the young ones, if we would notice, and that they were obliged to empty their glasses, when toasted by superior officers at regimental dinners. If these gentlemen caught their eyes, as they raised their glasses, many times during the two o'clock dinner, the silly young fellows' heads naturally grew befuddled, but it was not etiquette to refuse to empty their glass. This custom was very hard on a Faehnrich or Ensign, and was later done away with.
The smartest officers had English dogcarts, and were certainly most dashing. Many clever ones in the cavalry made money out of horses, buying and selling them amongst themselves. In Darmstadt they introduced the English hunt, and wore the pink. We used to go up to Frankfort for the "gentlemen races," and often saw our own Northern cousins, whose names we knew, but whom we never had the opportunity of meeting, riding with great skill and daring. These races were much encouraged by the Kaiser, and sometimes giant Eitel-Fritz would come and look on, or the dandy Prince Schaumberg-Lippe would make his horse mince round the ring. He was a great beau and ladies' favourite and the horrible accident that has deprived him of his beauty in the battlefield, seems an impossible thing to have happened to just him.
Our friend F—— was known in his regiment as "Revolver mouth." This title he earned through his witty tongue and his habit of hitting the bull's-eye in his table conversation. His great friend, a smart young nouveau riche, in the most exclusive cavalry regiment, who had much more money than brains, was the butt of much goodnatured chaff from F——. One evening F—— recounted to a group of brother officers how S——, who was notorious for his absent-mindedness and poor memory, was seen miles away from home, galloping down a dusty road. F—— hailed him and said, "But where's your horse?" "That's true," said S—— looking down in utter astonishment, "I must have forgotten to get on him."
S—— was famous for his sharpness in choosing and trading horseflesh, and F—— used to call him on the 'phone, saying "Is this Herr S——? Guten tag! I am Graf Pumpernickel." Then he would elaborately arrange a rendezvous in some very public spot in Metz, at which S—— was to appear with the horse he wished to trade. Of course when poor S—— kept the appointment, only a group of jeering young rascals greeted him, and S—— never discovered who Graf Pumpernickel was, though the joke was often repeated.
The money question of the poorer officers, often proves very serious. They are forbidden to earn money in any way except by writing. They cannot marry the girl they choose unless between them they have a certain sum, a minimum; this keeps many fine young officers and charming girls from matrimony; and frequently results on the man's side in far-reaching evils of entangling affairs, and illegitimate children. An officer said to me once, he thought he had no children, but a pretty woman who kept a shop in the Kathedral Plate once sent him a baby's pillow and he never was quite sure just what that meant. The Berlin demi-mondaines are certainly fascinating creatures, dressed in the most exquisite Paris clothes, and it is easy to understand how some penniless Graf may become hopelessly involved in an affair with one of them. Officially such things are frowned on. Talking of officers' troubles one day, F—— told me that suicide was often the only possible solution, and for the honour of one's regiment one was sometimes expected to end one's life. An acquaintance of his had had a revolver sent him by his commanding officer as a gentle hint, on finding himself involved in a scandalous affair.