The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg, and Other Stories Part 44

In time I came to know that Union colonel whose coming frightened me out of the war and crippled the Southern cause to that extent--General Grant. I came within a few hours of seeing him when he was as unknown as I was myself; at a time when anybody could have said, 'Grant?--Ulysses S. Grant? I do not remember hearing the name before.' It seems difficult to realise that there was once a time when such a remark could be rationally made; but there was, and I was within a few miles of the place and the occasion too, though proceeding in the other direction.

The thoughtful will not throw this war-paper of mine lightly aside as being valueless. It has this value: it is a not unfair picture of what went on in many and many a militia camp in the first months of the rebellion, when the green recruits were without discipline, without the steadying and heartening influence or trained leaders; when all their circ.u.mstances were new and strange, and charged with exaggerated terrors, and before the invaluable experience of actual collision in the field had turned them from rabbits into soldiers. If this side of the picture of that early day has not before been put into history, then history has been to that degree incomplete, for it had and has its rightful place there. There was more Bull Run material scattered through the early camps of this country than exhibited itself at Bull Run.

And yet it learned its trade presently, and helped to fight the great battles later. I could have become a soldier myself, if I had waited.

I had got part of it learned; I knew more about retreating than the man that invented retreating.

(1) It was always my impression that that was what the horse was there for, and I know that it was also the impression of at least one other of the command, for we talked about it at the time, and admired the military ingenuity of the device; but when I was out West three years ago I was told by Mr. A. G. Fuqua, a member of our company, that the horse was his, that the leaving him tied at the door was a matter of mere forgetfulness, and that to attribute it to intelligent invention was to give him quite too much credit. In support of his position, he called my attention to the suggestive fact that the artifice was not employed again. I had not thought of that before.

MEISTERSCHAFT

IN THREE ACTS (1)

DRAMATIS PERSONAE:

MR. STEPHENSON. MARGARET STEPHENSON.

GEORGE FRANKLIN. ANNIE STEPHENSON.

WILLIAM JACKSON. MRS. BLUMENTHAL, the Wirthin.

GRETCHEN, Kellnerin

ACT I. SCENE I.

Scene of the play, the parlour of a small private dwelling in a village.

(MARGARET discovered crocheting--has a pamphlet.)

MARGARET. (Solus.) Dear, dear! it's dreary enough, to have to study this impossible German tongue: to be exiled from home and all human society except a body's sister in order to do it, is just simply abscheulich.

Here's only three weeks of the three months gone, and it seems like three years. I don't believe I can live through it, and I'm sure Annie can't. (Refers to her book, and rattles through, several times, like one memorising:) Entschuldigen Sie, mein Herr, konnen Sie mir vielleicht sagen, um wie viel Uhr der erste Zug nach Dresden abgeht? (Makes mistakes and corrects them.) I just hate Meisterschaft! We may see people; we can have society; yes, on condition that the conversation shall be in German, and in German only--every single word of it! Very kind--oh, very! when neither Annie nor I can put two words together, except as they are put together for us in Meisterschaft or that idiotic Ollendorff! (Refers to book, and memorises: Mein Bruder hat Ihren Herrn Vater nicht gesehen, als er gestern in dem Laden des deutschen Kaufmannes war.) Yes, we can have society, provided we talk German. What would conversation be like! If you should stick to Meisterschaft, it would change the subject every two minutes; and if you stuck to Ollendorff, it would be all about your sister's mother's good stocking of thread, or your grandfather's aunt's good hammer of the carpenter, and who's got it, and there an end. You couldn't keep up your interest in such topics. (Memorising: Wenn irgend moglich--mochte ich noch heute Vormittag Geschaftsfreunde zu treffen.) My mind is made up to one thing: I will be an exile, in spirit and in truth: I will see no one during these three months. Father is very ingenious--oh, very! thinks he is, anyway. Thinks he has invented a way to force us to learn to speak German. He is a dear good soul, and all that; but invention isn't his fach'. He will see. (With eloquent energy.) Why, nothing in the world shall--Bitte, konnen Sie mir vielleicht sagen, ob Herr Schmidt mit diesem Zuge angekommen ist? Oh, dear, dear George--three weeks! It seems a whole century since I saw him. I wonder if he suspects that I--that I--care for him--j-just a wee, wee bit? I believe he does. And I believe Will suspects that Annie cares for him a little, that I do. And I know perfectly well that they care for us. They agree with all our opinions, no matter what they are; and if they have a prejudice, they change it, as soon as they see how foolish it is. Dear George! at first he just couldn't abide cats; but now, why now he's just all for cats; he fairly welters in cats. I never saw such a reform. And it's just so with all his principles: he hasn't got one that he had before. Ah, if all men were like him, this world would--(Memorising: Im Gegentheil, mein Herr, dieser Stoff ist sehr billig. Bitte, sehen Sie sich nur die Qualitat an.) Yes, and what did they go to studying German for, if it wasn't an inspiration of the highest and purest sympathy? Any other explanation is nonsense--why, they'd as soon have thought of studying American history.

(Turns her back, buries herself in her pamphlet, first memorising aloud, until Annie enters, then to herself, rocking to and fro, and rapidly moving her lips, without uttering a sound.)

Enter ANNIE, absorbed in her pamphlet--does not at first see MARGARET.

ANNIE. (Memorising: Er liess mich gestern fruh rufen, und sagte mir da.s.s er einen sehr unangenehmen Brief von Ihrem Lehrer erhalten hatte.

Repeats twice aloud, then to herself, briskly moving her lips.)

M. (Still not seeing her sister.) Wie geht es Ihrem Herrn Schwiegervater? Es freut mich sehr da.s.s Ihre Frau Mutter wieder wohl ist. (Repeats. Then mouths in silence.)

A. (Repeats her sentence a couple of times aloud; then looks up, working her lips, and discovers Margaret.) Oh, you here? (Running to her.) O lovey-dovey, dovey-lovey, I've got the gr-reatest news! Guess, guess, guess! You'll never guess in a hundred thousand million years--and more!

M. Oh, tell me, tell me, dearie; don't keep me in agony.

A. Well I will. What--do--you--think? They're here!

M. Wh-a-t! Who? When? Which? Speak!

A. Will and George!

M. Annie Alexandra Victoria Stephenson, what do you mean?

A. As sure as guns!

M. (Spasmodically embracing and kissing her.) 's.h.!.+ don't use such language. O darling, say it again!

A. As sure as guns!

M. I don't mean that! Tell me again, that--

A. (Springing up and waltzing about the room.) They're here--in this very village--to learn German--for three months! Es sollte mich sehr freuen wenn Sie--

M. (Joining in the dance.) Oh, it's just too lovely for anything!

(Unconsciously memorising:) Es ware mir lieb wenn Sie morgen mit mir in die Kirche gehen konnten, aber ich kann selbst nicht gehen, weil ich Sonntags gewohnlich krank bin. Juckhe!

A. (Finis.h.i.+ng some unconscious memorising.)--morgen Mittag bei mir speisen konnten. Juckhe! Sit down and I'll tell you all I've heard.

(They sit.) They're here, and under that same odious law that fetters us--our tongues, I mean; the metaphor's faulty, but no matter. They can go out, and see people, only on condition that they hear and speak German, and German only.

M. Isn't--that--too lovely!

A. And they're coming to see us!

M. Darling! (Kissing her.) But are you sure?

A. Sure as guns--Gatling guns!

M. 's.h.!.+ don't, child, it's schrecklich! Darling--you aren't mistaken?

A. As sure as g--batteries! (They jump up and dance a moment--then--)

M. (With distress.) But, Annie dear!--we can't talk German--and neither can they!

A. (Sorrowfully.) I didn't think of that.

M. How cruel it is! What can we do?

A. (After a reflective pause, resolutely.) Margaret--we've got to.

M. Got to what?

A. Speak German.

M. Why, how, child?