7 Summary of Life at Lautenburg
Four times a week I gave Duke Joachim his lessons, two of history, one of philosophy and one of literature. For this purpose I went to his room in the right wing of the palace. You will remember that his father occupied the middle portion, while the left wing was reserved exclusively for the Grand Duchess Aurora. The walls of Duke Joachim’s study are hung with the best German maps made by Kiepert himself. There are two portraits, one of the Grand Duke, and the other of his first wife, née Countess von Tepwitz, a worthy Bavarian with a Luther’s cross, who died three years ago. Duke Joachim is her living image.
You couldn’t have a more tractable pupil than this young German duke. He knows a good deal already, but unfortunately it’s all in the same class. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if the State of Lautenburg-Detmold lapses to the imperial crown on the death of the Grand Duke Frederick-Augustus.
Those who have always had all they want will probably bridle at the suggestion that a life with every material comfort is enough for happiness. Nevertheless, I was thoroughly happy. I had nothing but my professional duties to worry about. Two or three books, unknown over here, practically performed them for me.
I was very happy, I repeat. Lunch with the Grand Duke was still a treat in store, but I had already dined three times with Colonel von Wendel. His wife took a great fancy to me. I lent her several books I had really intended for the Grand Duchess. She was a kindly soul, and, besides, it was just as well to be on good terms with the Colonel.
I generally lunched with Cyrus Beck, Kessel, and the staff. Little Hagen came every now and then. When he did, the others chuckled maliciously, and said that the Grand Duchess must have let him out for the day. In the evening every one vanished. Most of them had friends in the town. I usually stayed behind with the professor, and sometimes, not always, the taciturn Kessel. Cyrus Beck then monopolized the conversation with a recital of his woes. His pupil made no progress. Besides, tutoring wasn’t his job! The Grand Duke Rudolph, now, did know how to treat a professor. He was a scholar!
I was given to understand that as a geographer he had scarcely a rival.
Kessel, finishing his liqueur, broke in calmly:
“A geographer who didn’t understand the handling of a field gun.”
Cyrus retorted in scorn:
“Then you prefer the present Grand Duke?”
“I never knew His Highness the Grand Duke Rudolph,” replied Kessel, unruffled. “I only know that the first duty of a Grand Duke is to be a Grand Duke, which means perfect familiarity with artillery, heavy and light, so that geographers can work in peace and safety.”
The odd thing is that the professor poured out his complaints to Kessel, of whom he stood in visible awe, rather than to me, a Frenchman. I tell you the loyalty of these folk is beyond belief. We in France are never happy except when at loggerheads. But their habit of mind, backed by the Imperial Police, who are admirably organized, makes them sheep, compared to which Panurge’s flock was imaginative and refractory.
In the daytime my principal amusement was strolling in Lautenburg. The splendid German uniforms delighted me, though I had moments of dismay over that prodigious display of discipline. Twice a week the band of the 182nd played in the Königsplatz, opposite the theatre. I liked the charming gaucherie of the group of girls I passed. They recalled and exemplified the truth of the old cavalry General von Dewitz’s remarks to his aide-de-camp:
“These girls are thoroughbreds, my boy, a real treat to watch! None of your faked demi-women, but mothers, real mothers. I’d answer for whole generations of them. Just look at that buxom wench down there! There’s red cheeks for you, and what a stride! A yard if it’s an inch! What a treat for an old soldier like me. I like looking at ’em!”1
I, too, liked “looking at ’em.” The spectacle never failed to please, and that utter docility, that abject acceptance of their destiny, recalled the words of the French officers who passed through here into captivity after the disaster at Sedan:
“Priez une Allemande à s’asseoir. Elle se couchera.”
Night falls, a haze of purple and gold. Lights and noise herald the hour of café and tavern. A flower-seller passes. I am to dine tonight at the Colonel’s. I must take Frau von Wendel a bunch of Vergiss-mein-nicht!...
Notes
1W. Meyer-Forster: Baron von Heidenstamm. Part I. 1.