PICTURES OF MY BARRACK LIFE.

BY A GERMAN SOLDIER.

CHAPTER V.

THE MARCH AND ITS DISAGREEMENTS.

My promotion happening to coincide pretty nearly with the advent of summer, in a short time after that happy epoch we marched out of garrison to cantonments on the large heath by Wilhelmstadt, there to practise and perform evolutions on a large scale. It was a magnificent July morning when we left Dolmar, in heavy marching order, and rejoiced in the change of our routine; for the first hour or so we laughed and sang right lustily, Von Teschenschech having granted us that liberty, in the superabundant fit of exhilaration caused by the near prospect of activity. But by degrees, as the sun rose higher, and we advanced further upon our way, the general uproariousness was cooled, or, to speak more correctly, was melted down to a lower key. The snatches of Punschlieder, Minnelieder, Vaterlandslieder, and Lieder of every denomination, together with the bursts of hilarity which accompanied them, were succeeded by a listless silence, interrupted now and then by monotonous grumblings at the sun, a schako, or the sempiternal solitude of the chaussée which we were traversing. Our horses' hoofs stirred up innumerable clouds of dust, which enveloped the whole brigade in a murky canopy, and overlaid our arms, uniforms, and faces, with a yellowish-white powder, by no means conducive to comfort or cleanliness. The mouth became parched, and the voice, as Dose correctly observed, was very rusty.

Here and there some thirsty soul made another attempt to extort a few drops more from his canteen, or pocket-pistol, which, when he set out, had been charged to the muzzle with his favourite beverage, but which repeated calls had long ago drained of its contents, though its owner was loth to believe he had positively had the last. Among those who suffered most from the parching effects of the blazing luminary was Von Teschenschech and servant. The latter bore as usual a portly bottle of some potent restorative for his master's especial behoof, and I remarked, as I rode close to him, that the colonel's calls for his comforter were both close and frequent; I saw, too, by the man's face, every time that he took the bottle back and held it up to the sun to take a mental admeasurement of what was left, that his master's bibbing capabilities by no means harmonised with his own previous calculations on the subject. In this deplorable disproportion I perceived the portentous indications of a hurricane, and ere long my forebodings were fully verified. The much-dreaded moment came when the servant consigned the empty bottle to its holster, and not many minutes afterwards Von Teschenschech, all unwitting of the fact, exclaimed: "Frederick, another draught; this dust makes me thirsty.' Ill-starred Frederick, with a full foreknowledge of his fate, could only answer with a hesitating air that there was no more in the bottle. This announcement immediately evoked the tempest which I and Frederick, and all acquainted with our colonel's idiosyncracies, had accurately fore

my

seen. We first perceived it brewing in his breast, then gurgling up through his throat, as if the outlet were too small for its pent-up vehemence, and it was then disembogued on poor Frederick's head in such a rapid string of vituperations, as nearly took away our breath in listening to them. I felt real compassion for the colonel's drought, as he seemed so much disturbed, and being, at the same time, not unwilling to ingratiate myself with him, I felt a desire to replenish his exhausted flask from my own, which had not been touched. As, however, it would have been contrary to all the rules of discipline and etiquette to ride up to him and offer him a pull, as if he were a boon-companion or a jolly toper, I turned over my brains to discover some way of accomplishing it in a more appropriate manner, and at last I hit upon what I thought was a most notable idea. I imagined, in my innocence, that though I could not offer it to him, I had only to direct his attention to my well-furnished flask, and he would immediately request me to favour him with a draught. With this end in view, I took the bottle in my hand and consigned it towards my mouth, making it glitter in the sun, at the same time glancing towards Von Teschenschech, and taking care that the movement should be seen, and hoping that it would be appreciated by him. But, alas! for calculations. My friendly glance was met with such a scowl, that all the philanthropical intentions I had entertained were withered by its acerbity, and scattered to the winds. He had evidently been watching all my manœuvres, but had interpreted them in a very different sense from what I intended them to convey. Though I did not divine the cause, I saw perfectly well that I was not in a friendly region, and therefore sought by degrees to withdraw myself from his dangerous vicinity. It was not so easy, however, to escape his lynx-like eyes; I was just commencing a cautious sidling movement to the left, when I heard: "Nun, nun; where's the bombardier going? Oho-oho, there! I've seen that slovenly saddle. Look here, captain; has this man been inspected by his sergeant this morning? No, that he hasn't. Look here! his cloak-buckles are not in a line. Dismount, you Millionenhund! You may go on foot to the next halt.” After this eruption he subsided into a mocking laugh, and I dismounted with the most contented face in the world, though not a little nettled at receiving such a scurvy recompense intended generosity; and, actuated by that feeling, I took care on my descent to stir up such a cloud of dust, as made us all resemble Raffaelian angels with heads emerging from a cloud. It occurred to me a moment afterwards that the colonel had mistaken my stratagem with the full-fraught flask for a tantalising ludification of his misfortune, and prompted by this idea I did now take a long swig with somewhat of a triumphant look, though I neither wanted nor relished the stuff. My pedestrian performance was not of long continuance, for in about a quarter of an hour we saw the little town of Machenheim before us. halted not far from the town, round a windmill in which head-quarters were provisionally established, till the quartermasters had arranged the allocation of the brigade in the town and its environs. My company was stationed in a neighbouring village, but I myself, happening to be clerk pro tem. to our adjutant, received orders to accompany the staff into the town. When all was arranged, and the men were dismissed for the

for my

We

night, the colonel and a few more officers loitered on the spot to arrange the proceedings for the next morning. Not being inspired by my late rencontre with any peculiar predilection for, or confidence in the colonel, I took care to give him as wide a berth as possible, but as he soon dismounted, and called out for some one to hold his horse, I was constrained, the rest of the assembly being officers, to come forward and offer myself. As soon as I took the bridle out of his hand, he walked round me and my steed, to take a minute survey of our appearance, and finding that I had providently occupied my leisure time in putting my saddle-housings into excellent order, his countenance assumed a more beneficent expression.

"Ah, ah! now I like to see that-I like to see a fault remedied so readily. That is very good."

This unexpected commendation somewhat assuaged my excessive spleen, and when he inquired, a few minutes afterwards, if there was a schenke near, I was emboldened to offer him my flask, observing, at the same time, that I had intended to offer it to him before, but had not ventured, thinking it too great a liberty. He took the proffered flask with a stare of astonishment, and a most gracious "Ich danke;" and when I explained to him what my intentions had been, he seemed to feel some compunctious visitings of conscience at having rewarded them so badly. After taking a hearty draught, he returned the flask, with "Ich bin sein wohlwollender oberst" (I am your well-wishing colonel), so that we parted the best friends in the world after our brief estrangement.

On my quartierbillet stood, "Street, Mühlen-street. House, No. 18. Mr. Mathew Mückeberg, merchant, will receive one man and one horse for one day, with board. Signed, &c." When parting for the night from my worthy Mentor, Sergeant Dose, he favoured me with a multifarious mass of directions on the course I was to take with regard to this same quartierbillet. I was by no means to allow myself to be cajoled by representations that the house to which I was assigned was cram full; that not a corner was unoccupied, and that they could provide me very comfortable quarters elsewhere. I should in that case be taken to some miserable hole, where they took in as many soldiers as they could get, in order to secure the five silver-groschen per diem which is allowed for the board and lodging of a soldier, and where, to enhance their profits, the soldiers are starved or half poisoned by the villanous board. With this advice impressed upon my mind, I entered Machenheim, having put on an impenetrable panoply of adamant against all excuses, though the most plausible that human ingenuity could invent, and fully resolved that not a mountain of invincible obstacles, or smooth words, should induce me to quit No. 18, Mühlenstrasse.

After a little research, I discovered the street and house, but was somewhat surprised to see the shutters closed, and a livery-servant standing at the door, seemingly on the look out for my approach. With an air of importance I dismounted, and demanded entrance, at the same time exhibiting my billet. He read it slowly through, and then remarked,

"Yes, it is quite correct, but you will have to be quartered out tonight, as the family has been gone on a journey these two days, only

they forgot to notify it to the police; but I can take you to the gentleman's cousin, where you will find everything as comfortable as you would

here."

66

Ah, ah!" thought I, rejoiced at being able to put Dose's recommendations into such speedy execution; "you are at your tricks already, are you? but I'll be even with you.'

So putting on a would-be-imposing air, the effect of which was somewhat marred by my sword being too long for me to lean upon, and consequently causing me to make a plunge head foremost, as if about to assail the abdominal regions of the lackey, I replied, in a grandiloquent tone,

"So ho! be quartered out, must I? At the gentleman's cousin's? Ah, yes! the cousin has an eye on the five groschen, I have no doubt, but I am billeted on No. 18, Mühlenstrasse, so there I shall pass the night."

"Sehr gut, sir, if you like to bivouac in the area, you can; but I can assure you that Herr von Querfurth does not take in soldiers for the sake of the five groschen."

"Either this house or none," I replied; and, leaping on my steed, I expressed my determination of going to the town-hall to procure redress. The flunkey was inexorable, and to the town-hall I went. There the matter was inquired into, and, to my infinite annoyance, it was found that the servant's allegations were correct, and I was consequently billeted on "the cousin's," Herr von Querfurth. Thither, therefore, I betook myself, and, to my still greater annoyance, who should open the door but my antagonist from No. 18. He grinned and chuckled most obstreperously at my discomfiture, but, to avoid all badinage on so nettling a subject, I assumed as serene a physiognomy as possible, and desired to be shown where I could dispose of my steed. He then conducted me to a capacious and comfortable stable, where I housed my Rosinante by the side of Herr von Querfurth's carriage-horses. This done, I inquired for my sleeping apartment, and, to my great disgust, was shown a small triangular hole in the corner of the stable, of such an eminently inconvenient shape as to render it impossible to lie at length in it without putting one's feet out of the door, and separated from the horses merely by a thin partition of boards. Nor was this all. As if the solitary occupation of such a fœtid kennel were not a quantum sufficit of discomfort, I was calmly informed by my friend the footman that this "chamber was to be shared with himself and the groom. Of course I protested with the utmost energy against this close companionship, and expatiated on the enormity of packing three mortals into such a downright fleaery, where we could hardly fail to be reduced to a pulp before the morning, or half devoured by those ravenous bestioles, of whose incisors I had entertained a most wholesome dread, ever since my first acquaintance with them in his rattish majesty's apartments. But in vain. All my representations were met by the most imperturbable civility, which aggravated and provoked, rather than allayed my resentment.

Imprecating, from the inmost penetralia of my heart, their confounded politeness, which deprived me of the satisfaction of abusing them, I issued from the house, to seek advice from some one who had had more

experience in such matters. I had not gone many steps, when I stumbled most opportunely on my merry comrade, Von Beeren. This roystering junker, whose purient genius was never at ease, if not concocting or executing some mischievous plot, was a bosom friend and councillor of mine, who had been my associate in many a madcap freak. He was best known in the brigade by the name of Weiszkopf (Whitehead), on account of the extremely light colour of his hair, a peculiarity which often proved very dangerous to himself and his copartners in mischief. For it frequently happened, when some worthy burgher's powers of endurance had been tasked to the very utmost by our escapades, and we were ultimately denounced at head-quarters, that the complainant's answer to the question, "Do you think you could describe any of the delinquents?" was, "Oh, yes, Herr Kapitän!-one of them had very light hair."

"Ah, ah! Herr Beeren has been at his old trade again, and where he is, there you may be sure that the Boy-Bombardier (which was my nom de guerre in the brigade) and Herr Schmackenlippen (another congenial spirit) are not far off."

Messrs. Von Beeren and Schmackenlippen, with the Boy-Bombardier, would then be hauled up to the judgment-seat, and confronted with the accuser, who, in most cases, found them to constitute the worthy trio he was in quest of.

To the Weiszkopf, then, I imparted my perplexity, telling him how I was doomed to be the occupant of a bug-haunted mouse-hole, with two serving-men for bedfellows, and asked his advice in this awkward dilemma. He listened to my tale with evident delight, his countenance brightening at the glorious opportunity it afforded for the exercise of his plot-loving genius.

When I had finished, he rubbed his hands, and remarked, "Ho! that's it, is it? Then I'll trouble you to walk about the town for a quarter of an hour, and then return to your quarters. I'll warrant you, you shall meet with a very different reception.'

With that he left me, to do as I was directed, and make serabund guesses at the scheme which he had so suddenly improvised. In due time I approached Herr von Querfurth's door, anxiously looking for the dénouement of this mysterious stratagem. In mounting the steps, I caught a glimpse through the open door of a young lady looking at a card, which had just been given to her by the servant who stood near. As soon as she became conscious of my presence, she hastily returned it, and vanished from my gaze through a side door. I entered, and my intended bedfellow giving me the card with a much more respectful demeanour than he had previously shown, inquired whether it was for me. A young soldier had called, and inquired whether a bombardier, of such and such appearance, was not quartered there, and then had left the card, and a message that he would call again in a quarter of an hour. I took the card, and nearly drew blood from my lips in struggling to restrain the smile which involuntarily arose to them when the superscription met my eye. There, set forth in most unimpeachable caligraphy, I read, "Count Weiler," a name of course totally unknown to me. The plot was now unravelled, and I plainly discerned the Weiszkopf's drift. So, assuming