Vanished Arizona | Page 4

the flight of the King, and the sorrow and chagrin
which prevailed.
For I was living in the family of General Weste, the former
stadt-commandant of Hanover, who had served fifty years in the army
and had accompanied King George on his exit from the city. He was a
gallant veteran, with the rank of General-Lieutenant, ausser Dienst. A
charming and dignified man, accepting philosophically the fact that
Hanover had become Prussian, but loyal in his heart to his King and to
old Hanover; pretending great wrath when, on the King's birthday, he

found yellow and white sand strewn before his door, but unable to
conceal the joyful gleam in his eye when he spoke of it.
The General's wife was the daughter of a burgomaster and had been
brought up in a neighboring town. She was a dear, kind soul.
The house-keeping was simple, but stately and precise, as befitted the
rank of this officer. The General was addressed by the servants as
Excellenz and his wife as Frau Excellenz. A charming unmarried
daughter lived at home, making, with myself, a family of four.
Life was spent quietly, and every evening, after our coffee (served in
the living-room in winter, and in the garden in summer), Frau
Generalin would amuse me with descriptions of life in her old home,
and of how girls were brought up in her day; how industry was
esteemed by her mother the greatest virtue, and idleness was punished
as the most beguiling sin. She was never allowed, she said, to read,
even on Sunday, without her knitting-work in her hands; and she would
often sigh, and say to me, in German (for dear Frau Generalin spoke no
other tongue), "Ach, Martha, you American girls are so differently
brought up"; and I would say, "But, Frau Generalin, which way do you
think is the better?" She would then look puzzled, shrug her shoulders,
and often say, "Ach! times are different I suppose, but my ideas can
never change."
Now the dear Frau Generalin did not speak a word of English, and as I
had had only a few lessons in German before I left America, I had the
utmost difficulty at first in comprehending what she said. She spoke
rapidly and I would listen with the closest attention, only to give up in
despair, and to say, "Gute Nacht," evening after evening, with my head
buzzing and my mind a blank.
After a few weeks, however, I began to understand everything she said,
altho' I could not yet write or read the language, and I listened with the
greatest interest to the story of her marriage with young Lieutenant
Weste, of the bringing up of her four children, and of the old days in
Hanover, before the Prussians took possession.

She described to me the brilliant Hanoverian Court, the endless
festivities and balls, the stately elegance of the old city, and the cruel
misfortunes of the King. And how, a few days after the King's flight,
the end of all things came to her; for she was politely informed one
evening, by a big Prussian major, that she must seek other lodgings--he
needed her quarters. At this point she always wept, and I sympathized.
Thus I came to know military life in Germany, and I fell in love with
the army, with its brilliancy and its glitter, with its struggles and its
romance, with its sharp contrasts, its deprivations, and its chivalry.
I came to know, as their guest, the best of old military society. They
were very old-fashioned and precise, and Frau Generalin often told me
that American girls were too ausgelassen in their manners. She often
reproved me for seating myself upon the sofa (which was only for old
people) and also for looking about too much when walking on the
streets. Young girls must keep their eyes more cast down, looking up
only occasionally. (I thought this dreadfully prim, as I was eager to see
everything). I was expected to stop and drop a little courtesy on
meeting an older woman, and then to inquire after the health of each
member of the family. It seemed to take a lot of time, but all the other
girls did it, and there seemed to be no hurry about anything, ever, in
that elegant old Residenz-stadt. Surely a contrast to our bustling
American towns.
A sentiment seemed to underlie everything they did. The Emperor
meant so much to them, and they adored the Empress. A personal
feeling, an affection, such as I had never heard of in a republic, caused
me to stop and wonder if an empire were not the best, after all. And one
day, when the Emperor, passing through Hanover en route, drove down
the Georgen-strasse in an open barouche and raised his