New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1917-01-21
- LIFE IN PALPlIAI1NG JEKoE1
"Weltfried"
Bv KURT MUENZER
Translated, Nth Introductory Comment,
BIZ William L. Mcpherson

tested en- recent official ,ttterGnces Of the Ger
man government. "WeitfrIed," the title Of
Herr MGnzers striking story, means Word
Peace" In 10 Is disclosed a yoarning for peace
STRANGELY IN contrast Nth the eroitdtion Of
tcdr-ths almost mystical glo'Tfcdtton Of
patriotic socri6ce-ichich tgere so common IN
German literature a year ago.
This story Exhibits imagination and high
literary skill. 10 is on admirable example Of
,ohat a short story should be. The author IS
a distinguished man of letters-G Silesian By
birth--on art critic as iceU as essayst and
noUslist For many years before the 10dr no
bred alternately in Berlin and Zurich.
The blockhouse stood in hollow Of the
wood. carpenter and a mason in the com
pany had built it out of stout, smoothed tim
oers.
And how inviting and homelike it looked in
side! There was a hanging lamp Only can
dies burned in it, but it had splendid big
shade, made out OF golden colored silk, with
lace netting and lilac bows.
Under the lamp stood large table, about
which were ranged remarkable collection oil
chairs--leather-seate ones, brocade-covered
ones, common kitchen bench, cheap-look-
ing sofa, gondola effect in green silk and an
embroidered rocking chair.
The company had its headquarters there.
The soldiers who were relieved from the
trenches returned under the shelter of the
night to this depression in the wood, where
they had made a home for themselves out of
the enemy's sight. A stove had been built
into one corner The fire in it was fed with
the broken branches and stems of battered
pine trees.
This Christmas Eve there were nearly thirty
men in the blockhouse. On the table stood
straight, noble-looking young fir, decorated
with lights hung with marzipan, apples and
nuts and dressed with gold and silver tinsel.
Wax angels gently swung from its branches
and big silvered paper-mache stars shone
there. The folks at home had sent all this
Christmas bravery to the front
One man played on mouth harmonica the
old, familiar song, "Stille Nacht, Heilige
Nacht" 1t sounded so simple and appealing
like shepherds song. All the rest were still.
They did not sing. They sat squatting in their
chairs and listened. But they were all listen
ing to something miles and miles away-at
home there behind the woods, the rivers and
the mountains. Home sang in their blood.
They were all saddened. To-day the mail
was late-the mail with Christmas greetings
from home. 1t was already II o'clock, and on
other days the two comrades had always come
punctually at with the bag of letters and
packages. Tonight the men waited in vain.
Naturally, the days before Christmas had
brought many Christmas things. But that
was not enough. On Christmas Eve the real
home greeting ought to come-amid the scent
of pine and the smell Of wax. These things
weighed heavily on all: inconsistencies, GER
tain sense of abandonment, little bitterness,
melancholy feeling of remuneration
BY the stove, in which the French wood
burned, cracking gayly and bringing sort
of home cheer, as if mother was sitting there
and telling her child favorite fairy tale
by that good stove sat the reserve captain and
young lieutenant who had just come straight
from an instruction camp into the field.
They had not gone with the other officers
into the little town. They had decided to stay
with the men. First the captain alone had
decided to stay. Then the lieutenant said he
would stay too, for he was unwilling TO be
separated from the captain. His attachment
TO his superior officer was a double one-frst
comradeship, in and of itself, and then
Yes, that was a very powerful bond The
captain was, in fact--that is, in his civil char
scter-a poet, a famous and greatly admired
man, who wrote books on the paradcXicality
of life And in those books that paradoxcal-
ty beautifully resolved itself into harmony
and clarity, into music and imagery. And
the lieutenant aspired TO be a poet. He had
struggled to be one with all his strength of
soul, and had already written many rows of
verses on sheets Of paper which he carefully
mid away He was very proud to be lieu
tenant to such q captain.
So he sat there in silence. Both were wait
ing for the mail and had now given up hope.
The young man glanced furtively at the elder.
lie was staring into the fire. He seemed not
10 know that a Christmas tree was gstening
on the table What dream carried him so far
out of The world of actuality? What image
in the flames made him insensibe to his sur
roundings?
The lieutenant knew nothing Of the cap
tain's private life. The captain was Ordi-
narily uncommuncative. He seemed to wish
to show that in the field one ought to be
soldier and nothing else.
Finally the younger, to whom the silence had
become oppressive, remarked;
81. - q or;ot pi0ht to-pirht They are not