Saar Lieutenant Burda

English-German Version
1. Auflage 2023
ISBN: 978-3-7549-8906-7
Verlag: neobooks
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Deutsch, 172 Seiten

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.

Ferdinand Ludwig Adam von Saar (* 30 September 1833 in Vienna, Austrian Empire; ? 24 July 1906 in Vienna-Döbling, Austria-Hungary) was an Austrian writer, dramatist and lyricist. Thomas Westphal lives and works in Rostock, Germany.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Saar, Ferdinand Von

Leseproben

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...