Lieutenant Burda E-Book

Ferdinand von Saar

• Herausgeber: neobooks
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Deutsch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 193

Beschreibung

In the regiment in which I had spent my military time, there was also a lieutenant named Joseph Burda. Considering his rank, he no longer seemed too young; he might already be approaching his thirties. This circumstance in itself would have been enough to give him a certain prestige among his immediate comrades, who were almost all fluffy yellowbeaks; but he possessed other qualities that particularly distinguished him. For he was not only a very efficient, useful officer, he had also acquired a kind of higher education through all kinds of reading, which he knew how to combine very advantageously with fine, worldly manners. As a superior, he was considered strict but fair; towards his superiors, he displayed a modest, but thoroughly confident attitude; in social intercourse, he showed a somewhat measured and reserved demeanour, but was always ready to faithfully assist each individual in word and deed. No one watched over the so-called esprit de corps more strictly than he, and in everything that concerned the point of honour he proved to be of the most scrupulous sensitivity, so much so that in this respect he had more than once got into serious conflicts without being the least bit of a quarrel seeker, and had had to settle them with a sabre in his fist. As a result, he was a little feared, but also all the more respected, without becoming pretentious or haughty, although it did help to enhance the somewhat melancholy dignity of his nature.

Leseprobe

Ferdinand von Saar

Lieutenant Burda

English-German Version

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Inhaltsverzeichnis

Titel

Lieutenant Burda

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

Impressum neobooks

Lieutenant Burda

by

Ferdinand von Saar

translated

by

Thomas Westphal

I

In the regiment in which I had spent my military time, there was also a lieutenant named Joseph Burda. Considering his rank, he no longer seemed too young; he might already be approaching his thirties. This circumstance in itself would have been enough to give him a certain prestige among his immediate comrades, who were almost all fluffy yellowbeaks; but he possessed other qualities that particularly distinguished him. For he was not only a very efficient, useful officer, he had also acquired a kind of higher education through all kinds of reading, which he knew how to combine very advantageously with fine, worldly manners. As a superior, he was considered strict but fair; towards his superiors, he displayed a modest, but thoroughly confident attitude; in social intercourse, he showed a somewhat measured and reserved demeanour, but was always ready to faithfully assist each individual in word and deed. No one watched over the so-called esprit de corps more strictly than he, and in everything that concerned the point of honour he proved to be of the most scrupulous sensitivity, so much so that in this respect he had more than once got into serious conflicts without being the least bit of a quarrel seeker, and had had to settle them with a sabre in his fist. As a result, he was a little feared, but also all the more respected, without becoming pretentious or haughty, although it did help to enhance the somewhat melancholy dignity of his nature.

He had it to thank for the fact that no weight was attached to a great personal weakness of his - or, rather, that it was unanimously overlooked as if by appointment. For he was immensely vain of his outer appearance, which indeed had to be called a most engaging one. Tall and slender, he had a well-formed face, whose slightly shimmering pallor was accentuated by a dark, finely curled moustache, and strikingly beautiful grey eyes, which were peculiarly shadowed by long eyelashes. There was no lack of critics who claimed that he was actually crooked, and indeed he used to pull his right shoulder up a little when he walked. But it was precisely this that lent his posture a distinguished carelessness that was very much in keeping with the way he dressed. For although his uniform coat was always of impeccable whiteness and freshness, it never showed that glistening sparkle which would have indicated that it had come directly from the tailor's workshop, and although Burda was very particular about "taille", everything about him, right down to the elegant shoes (which one knew were always made according to his own last), sat so lightly and comfortably, as if it had only been cut and fitted to the top. In this way, what was the result of careful calculation only appeared to be the natural good taste of an accomplished gentleman, whose handkerchiefs, when unfolded, gave off a barely perceptible odour, and even if people quietly made their comments about Burda having his hair done daily by his lad - who had had to take a short private sabbatical with a hair artist - some still aspired to do the same in his manner, without, however, even remotely attaining the original.

That this refined and, as it were, hidden care that he took of his appearance was ultimately connected with the endeavour to make the most favourable impression on the opposite sex need not be explicitly stated, and it is just as self-evident that Burda considered himself irresistible in this direction. It is not that he somehow displayed this consciousness or even, as some of us were wont to do, boasted of conquests of the heart; rather, he observed the utmost restraint in such matters, and conclusions could only be drawn from certain symptoms. There were either delicate lady's rings, which he wore on the little finger of his well-groomed hand, or a bracelet made of hair, which happened to appear under his cuff - as well as sudden mysterious disappearances at certain hours, which gave rise to all kinds of suspicions, which he did not exactly contradict, but whose further discussion he immediately cut off with a serious frown. In general, he rarely took part in conversations about love and therefore also about women, which he viewed from a very peculiar point of view. Just as for a more notorious than famous general, man only began with the baron, so for Burda the female sex only began with the baroness. He only accepted the simple nobility of birth of a young lady if the father in question was a general or president of some high provincial office; he used to look down on ordinary court counsellors' daughters with a kind of pity; he thoroughly despised ladies of the plutocracy. Everything else simply did not exist for him, and he expressed his astonishment every time he learned that an officer had married some wealthy burgher's daughter (which he called a mesalliance); but in the strongest tone he rebuked it if anyone had entered into more than a passing relationship with a lady of doubtful reputation.

These ambitious tendencies could seem all the more strange because Burda himself was of very humble origin. As the son of a minor accountant, he had received only a meagre education, initially attended the grammar school, but soon allowed himself to be accepted into his father's office as an eleve, so as not to have to continue to be a burden to him. Later, when the times opened up favourable prospects in the army, he joined our regiment as a cadet. His first successes with women also seemed to have come at that time. For, as the story goes, the daughter of a higher general, in whose adjutancy he was used because of his beautiful handwriting, had fallen rapturously in love with him. However, the general, having discovered a secret correspondence, immediately put an end to this romance by having the hero transferred to Verona, where the advertising district of the regiment - which was an Italian one - was located. There, under a southern sky, in the hometown of Romeo and Juliet, a dark-skinned Marchesa immediately had her eye on the handsome warrior and began a highly passionate relationship with him - in spite of a jealous husband who was extremely averse to Austrian foreign rule - in which there was no lack of nocturnal meetings by means of rope ladders, bloody assaults on the part of the Marchese, etc. It is therefore no wonder that Burda, who had been a member of the Austrian army since the beginning of the war, was not so happy with him. No wonder, then, that Burda, once he had become an officer, could no longer descend lower and only set up his nets in the upper regions. Thus, despite his reticence, it was believed that in the respectable provincial town where this story begins, he had acquired the special favour of a collegiate lady who, although no longer quite young, was considered a consummate beauty. In addition, it was also claimed that the whole thing consisted of Burda very often walking under the windows of the monastery building and hearing mass in the adjoining church every Sunday; an innocent pleasure that was actually offered to everyone. However that may have been: most of us, inspired by a similar romantic inclination, clung to the conviction that Burda was a chosen one because of his merits, and continued to look up to him with a kind of longing admiration.

However, one day his reputation was to receive a slight blow. It had become the custom among the younger officers to sign written messages and other submissions with deliberate cursiveness (which was supposed to look ingenious) or to squiggle the letters in such a cricket-like manner that the names concerned were often indecipherable. Our colonel, a black-eyed, pedantic nature, thus took the always desirable opportunity to tinker with the young people's witness, and had the most outstanding offenders, including yours truly, humble themselves before him. We had already got wind of the matter and were not a little surprised to see Burda, whose signature left nothing to be desired in terms of calligraphic clarity, among those summoned. After the colonel had held the corpora delicti before our eyes with sarcastic pleasure and asked each individual in a nasal voice what his name actually was - and what this and that meant, he concluded with a very sharp reprimand, holding out the prospect of exemplary punishments in the future. Then he turned to Burda in a somewhat more moderate tone: "And I have also sent for you, Lieutenant, in order to ask you a question. When did you become a count?"

Burda winced slightly. Then, gradually blushing down to his forehead hair, he replied in a firm, almost challenging voice: "Count? In what sense do the colonel mean that?"

The colonel took a step back and, as was his habit in agitation, squinted his right eye. "In what respect? With regard to your last guard report. It is" - he held the document out to him - "signed Gf Burda. This Gf is, as I can see from the signatures of Major Count N ... and Captain Count K ... is a popular abbreviation of the word Graf. What do you have to say in reply?"

"I take the liberty of remarking," said Burda in the tautest posture, "that this Gf is by no means intended to mean the word Count. It is the abbreviation of my name Gottfried."

"Gottfried? Your name is Joseph!"

"Indeed. But it should be known to the Colonel that one usually receives the name of the father at baptism. My father's name was Gottfried; therefore my name is Joseph Gottfried."

The colonel took another step back and blinked convulsively with his right eye. "Then I must ask you to produce your baptismal certificate on file, so that the regimental lists, in which, as far as I know, only the name Joseph appears, can be corrected. But nevertheless, you will have to choose less ambiguous abbreviations in future." He made a short bow and we were dismissed.

When we had left the door behind us and were now descending the stairs altogether, there was an awkward silence. The comical nature of the whole performance would actually have inspired general merriment; but the presence of Burda, who visibly took the matter seriously and, moreover, did not seem entirely without embarrassment, pushed back the expression of such a mood. We said goodbye to him with a few perfunctory words, and even in the next period this partiality towards him remained with us; it was as if something strange, unexpected had clouded his luminous appearance.

On the same day, however, he himself presented his baptismal certificate, which really did contain both names, through official channels and from then on signed with conspicuous deliberateness and without any abbreviation: Joseph Gottfried Burda.

II

Incidentally, this unpleasant incident, like everything else that has no remarkable consequences, was forgotten all the sooner, as soon afterwards an event occurred that threw people into an easily understandable excitement. One day, the regiment was suddenly ordered to join the Vienna garrison, which was considered a special honour at the time. But this order was also greeted with great joy by the officers for other reasons. For many of us were native Viennese and could now see their relatives again for a longer period of time, while the others were given the opportunity to get to know and enjoy the more or less foreign life of the capital. At the same time, the regiment had to be put in the best possible condition in the short time that was still granted for this purpose, which imposed restless activity on each individual - until the great day finally arrived, on which we boarded the wagons and, having arrived at Vienna's Nordbahnhof, marched with tinkling music towards the barracks that had been assigned to us in one of the nearest suburbs.

At that time, Vienna itself still showed its former character. The old gates with the immovable bridges over the moat still existed; the avenues of chestnut and lime trees on the glacis led to the suburbs, and if nowadays the inner city appears to be surrounded by the Ringstrasse as by a dazzling belt of jewels, then it resembled a treasure chest, enclosed by the circular walls of the bastion, in which most of the treasures lay crowded together. Public transport was also simpler, more intimate, as it were, than it is now. The various official professions were not too far apart, as were the manifold objects of pleasure and enjoyment - and so each of us soon became familiar with the circumstances and settled into his own way. Those who were inclined towards comfort and who liked to avoid off-duty encounters with high and highest superiors avoided, as far as possible, entering the streets and squares of the city and spent their free time in the vicinity of the barracks. Others, however - mostly older captains with strongly developed gastronomic inclinations - loved to visit the wine bars and restaurants that enjoyed a special reputation, where they usually stayed until late at night and then returned home in a cheerful mood. Finally, however, there were some who knew no greater pleasure than to tread the cobbles of the Graben and Kohlmarkt, dressed with the utmost care, and visit such places where, in order to see and be seen, they could meet the distinguished world at no particular expense. That Burda was one of these few goes without saying, and it was indeed admirable how consummately he behaved in this respect. When he stood in front of the world-famous Café Daum in a careless posture and regarded the passers-by with a cool gaze or started his tour of the Bastei with a measured stride, he was the very model of an elegant officer. No one was able to take a seat in the winter salon of the Volksgarten, while the Strauss brothers' chapel played serious and cheerful melodies, with more perfect decorum, and in the standing parterre of the two court theatres he always knew how to conquer a pillar, against which he leaned and let his eyes wander to the boxes, that is, to the female occupants.

It was during this time that I approached Burda, who until then had paid me little attention. The reason for this was an economic question. There was a lack of a sufficient number of officers' flats in the barracks, as a result of which several of us received corresponding monetary compensation. It was the custom for the owners of so-called "quarters in kind" to take in one or more of their comrades, so that each of them could use the corresponding interest quota to supplement their meagre pay. Burda, who had a flat in the barracks, also had to think about looking for a tenant - or, as was in his nature, choosing one. The fact that the choice fell on me may well have had something to do with the fact that I had been transferred to the company in which he himself was stationed; but I had reason to regard his invitation as a distinction and to accept it all the more gladly, since a special, very desirable advantage was attached to it. For even then I had given way to literary inclinations and wished to have a few quiet, completely undisturbed hours in the course of the day, but how could this have been achieved in a companionable inn, where things were as a rule rather rowdy! Burda, however, who was considerate in person and, moreover, always went his own way, offered me every security in this respect. I immediately gave notice in the private house where I had already rented a room and moved into his flat, which actually consisted of only two rooms, but they were very spacious and each had its own entrance. The connecting door was blocked off, a box was moved in front of it from both sides - and the matter was put in order.

At first we both kept quite far away from each other; he out of his usual reserve - I out of fear of inconveniencing him; it was as if we each lived on our own. For the rest, Burda was seldom at home during the day; but when he was, he usually lay on a low ottoman, which he had made most sensibly from two straw sacks piled one on top of the other and a throw of brightly patterned seat, and read French novels, which he liked very much. Almost never a disturbing sound reached me, and I could clearly feel how he carefully muffled the sound of his footsteps as he came and went. I only heard his frequent ablutions and sometimes a slight noise that he made when he brushed his latest uniform with his own hands, a delicate and important business that he did not want to entrust even to his extraordinarily trained servant.

So we did not meet too often off duty, most often at the Burgtheater, which I visited as often as I could, understandably, while Burda alternated every other day with the opera. If we happened to find each other in the foyer after the performance, we used to go home together, because our means did not allow us to have dinner after the theatre. On the other hand, he would sometimes invite me to have tea with him, which was to be understood in the true sense of the word, since there was usually no rum or cream, and at most only a bit of white bread appeared as an accompaniment.

One day I had just sat down at my desk to begin the second canto of a larger poem, which I had been tempted to write under the impression of Ernst Schulze's "Bewitched Rose", when I heard a soft, increasingly insistent knocking at the connecting door and finally Burda's voice: "Am I interrupting if I come over for a moment?"

Although this interruption was not very convenient for me, it was natural for me to call out: "Oh, not at all! It will give me great pleasure to see you with me." And with that I hurried to the entrance to receive Burda, who soon entered, a folded paper in his hand.

After asking him to take a seat on one of the two brown-painted chairs that formed a large part of my room furnishings, I asked what brought him to me.

"I have written down a few verses here," he said, "and since I know that you are interested in poetry, I wanted to ask you to look through the poem to see if there are any violations of the metre or other mistakes. Will you do me this favour?"

"With the greatest pleasure," I replied, accepting the sheet. It contained ten or fifteen verses, which were on the whole rather stiff, but entirely correct, and concluded casually with the following rhymes:

"Shall not the star of hope blanch me,

Then give me, exalted angel, a sign!"

"There's nothing wrong with it," I said, returning the paper.

"I thought so," he replied gravely. "But I wanted to be sure."

Anyone else I might now have asked to whom the verses were actually addressed; to Burda alone it was not to be ventured. Nor was I overly interested. This time, however, I felt as if he wanted to be asked. For he remained seated with his legs crossed and, moving the tip of his right foot back and forth, looked ahead as if expectantly. I finally broke the silence by beginning, though still somewhat timidly, "And may one perhaps know - -?"

He quickly turned his head and held out his hand to me: "Dear friend, in the time we have lived together you have not only earned my affection but also my respect in a high degree. I can and may therefore let you in on everything - all the more so because, frankly, I feel the need to have a confidant this time. Listen then: the verses are addressed to the youngest of the princesses L ... ..."

Now, I had not expected to hear anything so small; nevertheless, I almost froze with astonishment. That Burda should be able to raise his eyes so high was beyond all and any expectation, although I could not help admiring his sublime taste. The Princesses L ... belonged to the most dazzling appearances of the aristocratic world of women, which was then so strikingly rich in beauties. Orphaned by their mother's side, and barely a year apart in age, all three of them, with their bold yet delicately curved noses, displayed the most pronounced family resemblance, and when they sat in the box or drove to the Prater, usually dressed alike, the sight might well have made many hearts beat faster. But that any son of the earth, if he did not belong to those circles, should dare to approach the daughter of a prince from a sovereign family, who occupied one of the first positions at court, in such a way, with such expectations, was incomprehensible. I remained speechless.

Burda seemed to gloat over my astonishment. "Well," he said at last, smiling, "do you see in it something so quite impossible?"

Now it was again a question of not hurting him. "O no - not at all - - I was only thinking. In what way then will you send the poem to the princess?"

"In what way? Quite simply by post."

"By post?"

"Of course. You know that I know a little calligraphy. So I put the verses on paper in the most delicate way, without a signature and without revealing my hand. On the address I imitate a lady's handwriting, and in order to let the addressee know immediately who the letter comes from, I sift it with fine, pale yellow varnish - the colour of our envelopes," Burda added, explaining and already somewhat annoyed, as he still did not notice any understanding agreement in my expression.

"That's all very well," I now interjected. "But how if the letter falls into unjust hands?"

Burda looked at me with pitying superiority. Into unjust hands? Do you think that in princely houses they open their daughters' letters, as might happen in bourgeois circles on the part of suspicious fathers and mothers?"

"There is no question of opening. But the letter can be delivered in the presence of other persons. And if a question is then addressed to the addressee with regard to it - what shall she reply?"