Memories of France had suggested the possible wisdom of reaching the station well before train-time. I might, to be sure, have purchased my ticket in leisurely3 comfort at the Adlon, but for once I proposed to take pot-luck with the rank and file. First-hand information is always much more satisfactory than hearsay4 or the dilettante5 observation of the mere6 spectator—once the bruises7 of the experience have disappeared. The first glimpse of the station interior all but wrecked8 my resolution. Early as I was, there were already several hundred would-be travelers before me. From both ticket-windows lines four deep of disheveled Germans of both sexes and all ages curved away into the 160farther ends of the station wings. Boy soldiers with fixed9 bayonets paraded the edges of the columns, attempting languidly and not always successfully to prevent selfish new-comers from “butting in” out of their turn. I attached myself to the end of the queue that seemed by a few inches the shorter. In less than a minute I was jammed into a throng10 that quickly stretched in S-shape back into the central hall of the station.
We moved steadily11 but almost imperceptibly forward, shuffling12 our feet an inch at a time. The majority of my companions in discomfort13 were plainly city people of the poorer classes, bound short distances into the country on foraging14 expeditions. They bore every species of receptacle in which to carry away their possible spoils—hand-bags, hampers15, baskets, grain-sacks, knapsacks, even buckets and toy wagons17. In most cases there were two or three of these to the person, and as no one dreamed of risking the precious things out of his own possession, the struggle forward suggested the writhing18 of a miscellaneous scrap-heap. Women were in the majority—sallow, bony-faced creatures in patched and faded garments that hung about their emaciated19 forms as from hat-racks. The men were little less miserable20 of aspect, their deep-sunk, watery21 eyes testifying to long malnutrition22; the children who now and then shrilled23 protests at being trodden underfoot were gaunt and colorless as corpses25. Not that healthy individuals were lacking, but they were just that—individuals, in a throng which as a whole was patently weak and anemic. The evidence of the scarcity26 of soap was all but overpowering. Seven women and at least three children either fainted or toppled over from fatigue27 during the two hours in which we moved a few yards forward, and they were buffeted28 out of the line with what seemed to be the malicious29 joy of their competitors behind. I found my own head swimming long before I had succeeded in turning the corner 161that cut off our view of the pandemonium30 at the ticket-window.
At eight-thirty this was suddenly closed, amid weak-voiced shrieks31 of protest from the struggling column. The train did not leave until nine, but it was already packed to the doors. Soldiers, and civilians33 with military papers, were served at a supplementary34 window up to the last minute before the departure. The disappointed throng attempted to storm this wicket, only to be driven back at the point of bayonets, and at length formed in column again to await the reopening of the public guichets at noon.
The conversation during that three-hour delay was incessantly35 on the subject of food. Some of it was good-natured; the overwhelming majority harped36 on it in a dreary37, hopeless grumble38. Many of the women, it turned out, were there to buy tickets for their husbands, who were still at work. Some had spent the previous day there in vain. I attempted to ease my wearying legs by sitting on my hamper16, but querulous protests assailed40 me from the rear. The gloomy seekers after food seemed to resent every inch that separated them from their goal, even when this was temporarily unattainable. One would have supposed that the order-loving Germans might have arranged some system of numbered checks that would spare such multitudes the necessity of squandering41 the day at unproductive waiting in line, but the railway authorities seemed to be overwhelmed by the “crisis of transportation.”
From noon until one the struggle raged with double fury. The boy soldiers asserted their authority in vain. A mere bayonet-prick in the leg was apparently42 nothing compared with the gnawing43 of continual hunger. Individual fights developed and often threatened to become general. Those who got tickets could not escape from the crushing maelstrom44 behind them. Women were dragged unconscious from the fray45, often feet first, their skirts about their heads. The 162rear of the column formed a flying wedge and precipitated46 a free-for-all fracas47 that swirled48 vainly about the window. When this closed again I was still ten feet away. I concluded that I had my fill of pot-luck, and, buffeting49 my way to the outer air, purchased a ticket for the following morning at the Adlon.
A little episode at my departure suggested that the ever-obedient German of Kaiser days was changing in character. The second-class coach was already filled when I entered it, except that at one end there was an empty compartment50, on the windows of which had been pasted the word “Bestellt.” In the olden days the mere announcement that it was “engaged” would have protected it as easily as bolts and bars. I decided51 to test the new democracy. Crowding my way past a dozen men standing52 obediently in the corridor, I entered the forbidden compartment and sat down. In a minute or two a seatless passenger put his head in at the door and inquired with humble53 courtesy whether it was I who had engaged the section. I shook my head, and a moment later he was seated beside me. Others followed, until the compartment was crowded with passengers and baggage. One of my companions angrily tore the posters from the windows and tossed them outside.
“Bestellt indeed!” he cried, sneeringly54. “Perhaps by the Soldiers’ Council, eh? I thought we had done away with those old favoritisms!”
A few minutes later a station porter, in his major’s uniform, appeared at the door with his arms full of baggage and followed by two pompous-looking men in silk hats. At sight of the throng inside he began to bellow55 in the familiar old before-the-war style.
“This compartment is bestellt,” he vociferated, in a crown-princely voice, “and it remains56 bestellt! You will all get out of there at once!”
No one moved; on the other hand, no one answered back. 163The porter fumed57 a bit, led his charges farther down the train, and perhaps found them another compartment; at any rate, he never returned. “Democracy” had won. Yet through it all I could not shake off the feeling that if any one with a genuinely bold, commanding manner, an old army officer, for instance, decorated with all the thingamabobs of his rank, had ordered the compartment vacated, the occupants would have filed out of it as silently and meekly58 as lambs.
The minority still ruled in more ways than one. A placard on the wall, forbidding the opening of a window without the unanimous consent of the passengers within the compartment, was strictly59 obeyed. The curtains had long since disappeared, as had the leather straps60 with which one raised or lowered the sash, which must now be manipulated by hand. As in the occupied zone, the seats had been stripped of their velvety61 coverings, suggesting that this had been no special affront62 to the Allies, but merely a sign of the scarcity of cloth for ladies’ blouses. It was a cloudless Sunday, and railway employees along the way were taking advantage of it to work in their little vegetable gardens, tucked into every available corner. They did not neglect their official duties, however, for all that. At every grade crossing the uniformed guard stood stiffly at attention, his furled red flag held like a rifle at his side, until the last coach had passed.
At Spandau there lay acre upon acre of war material of every species, reddening with rust64 and overgrowing with grass and weeds. The sight of it aroused a few murmurs65 of discontent from my companions. But they soon fell back again into that apathetic66 silence that had reigned67 since our departure. A few had read awhile the morning papers, without a sign of feeling, though the head-lines must have been startling to a German, then laid them languidly aside. Apparently the lack of nourishing food left them too sleepy 164to talk. The deadly apathy68 of the compartment was quite the antithesis69 of what it would have been in France; a cargo70 of frozen meat could not have been more uncommunicative.
The train showed a singular languor71, due perhaps to its Ersatz coal. It got there eventually, but it seemed to have no reserve strength to give it vigorous spells. The station we should have passed at noon was not reached until one-thirty. Passengers tumbled off en masse and besieged72 the platform lunch-room. There were Ersatz coffee, Ersatz cheese, watery beer, and war-bread for sale, the last only “against tickets.” I had not yet been supplied with bread-coupons, but a fellow-passenger tossed me a pair of them and replied to my thanks with a silent nod. The nauseating73 stuff seemed to give the traveler a bit of surplus energy. They talked a little for the next few miles, though in dreary, apathetic tones. One had recently journeyed through the occupied area, and reported “every one is being treated fairly enough there, especially by the Americans.” A languid discussion of the Allies ensued, but though it was evident that no one suspected my nationality, there was not a harsh word toward the enemy. Another advanced the wisdom of “seeing Germany first,” insisting that the sons of the Fatherland had been too much given to running about foreign lands, to the neglect of their own. Those who carried lunches ate them without the suggestion of an offer to share them with their hungry companions, without even the apologetic pseudo-invitation of the Spaniard. Then one by one they drifted back to sleep again.
The engine, too, seemed to pick up after lunch—or to strike a down-grade—and the thatched Gothic roofs of Mechlenburg soon began to dot the flat landscape. More people were working in the fields; cattle and sheep were grazing here and there. Groups of women came down to the stations to parade homeward with their returning soldier 165sons and brothers. Yet after the first greeting the unsuccessful warriors74 seemed to tire of the welcome and strode half proudly, half defiantly75 ahead, while the women dropped sadly to the rear.
Where I changed cars, four fellow-travelers reached the station lunch-room before me and every edible76 thing was bestellt when my turn came. With three hours to wait I set out along the broad, well-kept highway. A village hotel served me a huge Pfannkuchen made of real eggs, a few cold potatoes, and some species of preserved fruit, but declined to repeat the order. The bill reached the lofty heights of eight marks. Children playing along the way, and frequently groups of Sunday strollers, testified that there was more energy for unnecessary exertion77 here in the country than in Berlin. The flat, well-plowed land, broken only by dark masses of forest, was already giving promise of a plentiful78 harvest.
The two women in the compartment I entered at a station farther on gave only one sign of life during the journey. A railway coach on a siding bore a placard reading, “übergabe Wagen an die Entente79.” The women gazed at it with pained expressions on their gaunt faces.
“It’s a fine new car, too,” sighed one of them, at last, “with real leather and window-curtains. We don’t get any such to ride in—and to think of giving it to England! Ach! These are sad times!”
The sun was still above the horizon when I reached Schwerin, though it was nearly nine. There was a significant sign of the times in the dilapidated coach which drove me to my destination for five marks. In the olden days one mark would have been considered a generous reward for the same journey in a spick-and-span outfit80. The middle-aged81 woman who met me at the door was by no means the buxom82 matron she had been ten years before. But her welcome was none the less hearty83.
166“Bist du auch gegen uns gewesen?” she asked, softly, after her first words of greeting. “You, too, against us?”
“Yes, I was with our army in France,” I replied, watching her expression closely.
There was regret in her manner, yet, as I had foreseen, not the faintest suspicion of resentment84. The German is too well trained in obedience85 to government to dream that the individual may make a choice of his own international affairs. As long as I remained in the household there was never a hint from any member of it that the war had made any gulf86 between us. They could not have been more friendly had I arrived wearing the field gray of the Fatherland.
A brief glance about the establishment sufficed to settle once for all the query87 as to whether the civil population of Germany had really suffered from the ravages88 of war and of the blockade. The family had been market-gardeners for generations. Ten years before they had been prosperous with the solid, material prosperity of the well-to-do middle class. In comparison with their neighbors they were still so, but it was a far call from the plenitude of former days to the scarcity that now showed its head on every hand. The establishment that had once been kept up with that pride of the old-fashioned German as for an old family heirloom, which laughs at unceasing labor89 to that end, was everywhere sadly down at heel. The house was shedding its ancient paint; the ravages of weather and years gazed down with a neglected air; the broken panes90 of glass in the hotbeds had not been replaced; farm wagons falsely suggested that the owner was indifferent to their upkeep; the very tools had all but outlived their usefulness. Not that the habit of unceasing labor had been lost. The family sleeping-hours were still from ten to four. But the war had reduced the available helping91 hands and the blockade had shut out materials and supplies, or forced them up to prices which none but the wealthy could reach.
167Inside the house, particularly in the kitchen, the family had been reduced to almost as rudimentary a life as the countrymen of Venezuela, so many were the every-day appliances that had been confiscated92 or shut off by the war-time government, so few the foodstuffs93 that could be obtained. Though other fuel was almost unattainable, gas could only be had from six to seven, eleven to twelve, and seven to eight. Electricity was turned on from dark until ten-thirty, which at that season of the year meant barely an hour. Petroleum94 or candles were seldom to be had. All the better utensils95 had long since been turned in to the government. When I unearthed96 a bar of soap from my baggage the family literally97 fell on my neck; the only piece in the house was about the size of a postage-stamp, and had been husbanded for weeks. Vegetables were beginning to appear from the garden; without them there would have been little more than water and salt to cook. In theory each adult member of the household received 125 grams of beef a week; in practice they were lucky to get that much a month. What that meant in loss of energy I began to learn by experience; for a mere three days without meat left me weary and ambitionless. Those who could bring themselves to eat it might get horse-flesh in the markets, without tickets, but even that only in very limited quantities. The bread, “made of potatoes, turnips98, and God knows what all they throw into it,” was far from sufficient. Though the sons and daughters spent every Sunday foraging the country-side, they seldom brought home enough to make one genuine meal.
The effect of continued malnutrition seemed to have been surprisingly slight on those in the prime of life. The children of ten years before, men and women now, were plump and hardy99, though the color in their cheeks was by no means equal even to that of the grandfather—sleeping now in the churchyard—at the time of my former visit. 168Of the two granddaughters, the one born three years before, when the blockade was only beginning to be felt in these backwaters of the Empire, was stout100 and rosy101 enough; but her sister of nine months looked pitifully like the waxen image of a maltreated infant of half that age. The simple-hearted, plodding102 head of the household, nearing sixty, had shrunk almost beyond recognition to those who had known him in his plump and prosperous years, while his wife had outdistanced even him in her decline.
Business in the market-gardening line had fallen off chiefly because of the scarcity of seeds and fertilizers. Then there was the ever more serious question of labor. Old women who had gladly accepted three marks for toiling103 from dawn until dark ten years before received eleven now for scratching languidly about the gardens a bare eight hours with their hoes and rakes. Male help had begun to drift back since the armistice104, but it was by no means equal to the former standard in numbers, strength, or willingness. On top of all this came a crushing burden of taxation105. When all the demands of the government were reckoned up they equaled 40 per cent. of the ever-decreasing income. The war had brought one advantage, though it was as nothing compared to the misfortunes. For generations two or three members of the family had spent six mornings a week, all summer long, at the market-place in the heart of town. Since the fall of 1914 not a sprig of produce had been carried there for sale; clamoring women now besieged the gate of the establishment itself in far greater numbers than the gardens could supply.
The hardship of the past four years was not the prevailing106 topic of conversation in the household, however, nor when the subject was forced upon them was it treated in a whining107 spirit. Most of the family, like their neighbors, adroitly108 avoided it, as a proud prize-fighter might sidestep references to the bruises of a recent beating. Only the 169mother could now and then be drawn109 into specifying110 details of the disaster.
“Do you see the staging around our church there?” she asked, drawing me to a window one morning after I had persisted some time in my questions. “They are replacing with an Ersatz metal the copper111 that was taken from the steeple and the eaves. Even the bells went to the cannon-foundries, six of them, all but the one that is ringing now. I never hear it without thinking of an orphan112 child crying in the woods after all the rest of its family has been eaten by wolves. Ach! What we have not sacrificed in this fight to save the Fatherland from our wolfish enemies! We gave up our gold and our silver, then our nickel and our copper, even our smallest pots and pans, our aluminum113 and our lead, our leather and our rubber, down to the last bicycle tire. The horses and the cows are gone, too—I have only goats to milk now. Then the struggles I have had to keep the family clothed! Cloth that used to cost fifty pfennigs a meter has gone up to fifteen marks, and we can scarcely find any of that. Even thread is sold only against tickets, and we are lucky to get a spool114 a month. We are far better off than the poor people, too, who can only afford the miserable stuff made of paper or nettles115. America also wants to destroy us; she will not even send us cotton. And the wicked Schleichhandel and profiteering that go on! Every city has a hotel or two where you can get anything you want to eat—if you can pay for it. Yet our honest tickets are often of no use because rascals116 have bought up everything at wicked prices. If we do not get food soon even this Handarbeiter government will recommence war against France, surely as you are sitting there. The young men are all ready to get up and follow our generals. The new volunteer corps24 are taking on thousands every day. Ach! The sufferings of these last years! And now our cruel enemies expect our poor brave prisoners to rebuild 170Europe. But then, I have no right to complain. At least my dear own boy was not taken from me.”
The son, whom we will call Heinrich, I had last seen as a child in knickerbockers. Now he was a powerful, two-fisted fellow of twenty-one, with a man’s outlook on life. Having enlisted117 as a Freiwilliger on his sixteenth birthday, at the outbreak of the war, he had seen constant service in Russia, Rumania, and in all the hottest sectors118 of the western front, had been twice wounded, twice decorated with those baubles119 with which princes coax120 men to die for them, and had returned home with the highest non-commissioned rank in the German army. What struck one most forcibly was the lack of opportunity offered such men as he by their beloved Fatherland. In contrast with the positions that would have been open to so promising121 a youngster, with long experience in the command of men, in America, he had found nothing better than an apprenticeship122 in the hardware trade, paying forty marks for the privilege and bound to serve three long years without pay. Like nearly all the young men in town, from grocery clerks to bankers’ sons, he still wore his uniform, stripped of its marks of rank, not out of pride, but because civilian32 clothing was too great a luxury to be indulged, except on Sundays. I was surprised, too, at the lack of haughtiness123 which I had fancied every soldier of Germany felt for his calling. When I made some casual remark about the gorgeous spiked124 helmet he had worn, with its Prussian and Mechlenburger cockades, which I took for granted he would set great store by to the ends of his days, he tossed it toward me with: “Here, take the thing along, if you want it. It will make a nice souvenir of your visit.” When I coaxed125 him outdoors to be photographed in his two iron crosses, he would not put them on until we had reached a secluded126 corner of the garden, because, as he explained, the neighbors might think he was boastful.
171“I should gladly have died for the Fatherland,” he remarked, as he tossed the trinkets back into the drawer full of miscellaneous junk from which he had fished them, “if only Germany had won the war. But not for this! Not I, with no other satisfaction than the poor fellows we buried out there would feel if they could sit up in their graves and look about them.”
There were startling changes in the solemn, patriarchal attitude toward life which I had found so amusing, yet so charming, in the simple people of rural Germany at the time of my first visit. The war seemed to have given a sad jolt127 to the conservative old customs of former days, particularly among the young people. Perhaps the most tangible128 evidence of this fact was to see the daughters calmly light cigarettes, while the sternly religious father of ten years before, who would then have flayed129 them for sneezing in church, looked idly on without a sign of protest. They were still at bottom the proper German Fr?uleins of the rural middle class—though as much could not be said of all the sex even in respectable old Schwerin—but on the surface there were many of these little tendencies toward the Leichtsinnig.
When it came to discussions of the war and Germany’s conduct of it, I found no way in which we could get together. We might have argued until doomsday, were it fitting for a guest to badger130 his hosts, without coming to a single point of agreement. Every one of the old fallacies was still swallowed, hook and line. If I had expected national disaster to bring a change of heart, I should have been grievously disappointed. To be sure, Mechlenburg is one of the remotest backwaters of the Empire, and these laborious131, unimaginative tillers of the soil one of its most conservative elements. They would have considered it unseemly to make a business of thinking for themselves in political matters, something akin63 to accepting a position for which 172they had no previous training. There was that to arouse pity in the success with which the governing class had made use of this simple, unquestioning attitude for its own ends. One felt certain that these honest, straightforward132 victims of premeditated official lies would never have lent a helping hand had they known that the Fatherland was engaged in a war of conquest and not a war of defense133.
Here again it was the mother who was most outspoken134 toward what she called “the wicked wrecking135 of poor, innocent Germany.” The father and the children expressed themselves more calmly, if at all, though it was evident that their convictions were the same. Apparently they had reached the point where further defense of what they regarded as the plain facts of the situation seemed a waste of words.
“I cried when the armistice was signed,” the mother confided136 to me one day, “for it meant that our enemies had done what they set out to do many years ago. They deliberately137 planned to destroy us, and they succeeded. But they were never able to defeat our wonderful armies in the field. England starved us, otherwise she would never have won. Then she fostered this Bolshevismus and Spartakismus and the wicked revolution that undermined us at the rear. But our brave soldiers at the front never gave way: they would never have retreated a yard but for the breakdown138 at home.”
She was a veritable mine of stories of atrocities139 by the English, the French, and especially the Russians, but she insisted there had never been one committed by the Germans.
“Our courageous140 soldiers were never like that,” she protested. “They did not make war that way, like our heartless enemies.”
Yet in the same breath she rambled141 on into anecdotes142 of what any one of less prejudiced viewpoint would have called atrocities, but which she advanced as examples of 173the fighting qualities of the German troops. There again came in that curious German psychology143, or mentality144, or insanity145, or whatever you choose to call it, which has always astounded146 the world at large. “Heinie” had seen the hungry soldiers recoup themselves by taking food away from the wicked Rumanians; he had often told how they entered the houses and carried away everything portable to sell to the Jews at a song, that the next battle should not find them unprepared. The officers had just pretended they did not see the men, for they could not let them go unfed. They had taken things themselves, too, especially the reserve officers. But then, war is war. If only I could get “Heinie” to tell some of the things he had seen and heard; how, for instance, the dastardly Russians had screamed when they were pushed back into the marshes147, whole armies of them.
I found more interest in “Heinie’s” stories of the insuperable difficulties he had overcome as a Feldwebel in keeping up the discipline of his men after the failure of the last great German offensive, but I did not press that point in her presence.
“No,” she went on, in answer to another question, “the Germans never did anything against women. Those are all English lies! Heinie never told me of a single case”—“Heinie” was, of course, no more apt to tell mother such details than would one of the well-bred boys of our own Puritan society, but I kept the mental comment to myself. “Of course there were those shameless Polish girls, and French and Belgian hussies, who gave themselves freely to the soldiers, but....
“Certainly the Kaiser will come back,” she insisted. “We need our Kaiser; we need princes, to govern the Empire. What are Ebert and all that crowd? Handarbeiter, hand workers, and nothing more. It is absurd to think that they can do the work of rulers. We need our princes, who have 174had generations of training in governing. Siehst du, I will give you an example. We have been Handelsg?rtner for generations. Hermann knows all about the business of gardening, because he was trained to it as a boy, nicht wahr? Do you think a man who had never planted a cabbage could come and do Hermann’s work? Ausgeschlossen! Well, it is just as foolish for a Handarbeiter like Ebert to attempt to become a ruler as it would be for one of our princes to try to run Hermann’s garden.
“Germany is divided into three classes—the rulers, the middle class (to which we belong), and the proletariat or hand-workers, which includes Ebert and all these new upstarts. It is ridiculous to be getting these distinctions all mixed up. Leave the governing to the princes and their army officers and the Junkers. We use the nickname ‘Junker’ for our noble gentlemen, von Bernstorff, for instance, who is well known in America, and all the others who have a real right to use the ‘von’ before their names, whose ancestors were first highway robbers and then bold warriors, and who are naturally very proud”—she evidently thought this pride quite proper and fitting. “Then our army officers are chosen from the very best families and can marry only in the gelehrten class, and only then if the girl has a dowry of at least eight hundred thousand marks. So they preserve all the nobility of their caste down through every generation and keep themselves quite free from middle-class taint—the real officers I am speaking of, not the Reservisten, who are just ordinary middle-class men, merchants and doctors and teachers and the like, acting148 as officers during the war. Those are the men who are trained to govern, and the only ones who can govern.”
I knew, of course, that the great god of class was still ruling in Germany, but I confess that this bald statement of that fact left me somewhat flabbergasted. It is well to be reminded now and again, however, that the Teuton regards politics, diplomacy149, and government as lifelong professions and not merely as the fleeting150 pastimes of lawyers, automobile-makers, and unsuccessful farmers; it clarifies our vision and aids us to see his problems more nearly as he sees them.
Several rambles151 in and about Schwerin only confirmed the impressions I had already formed—that the region was hopelessly conservative and that it had really seriously suffered from the war and the blockade. On the surface there was often no great change to be seen; but scratch beneath it anywhere and a host of social skeletons was sure to come to light. Even the famous old Schwerinerschloss, perhaps the most splendid castle in Germany, showed both this conservatism and the distress152 of the past years. The repairs it was undergoing after a recent fire had ceased abruptly153 with the flight of the reigning154 family of Mechlenburg, but the marks of something more serious than the conflagration155 showed in its seedy outward appearance. Yet not a chair had been disturbed within it, for all the revolution, and guards stationed about it by the Soldiers’ Council protected it as zealously156 as if they, too, were waiting for “our princes” to come back again. Almost the only sign of the new order of things was the sight of a score or more of discharged soldiers calmly fishing in the great Schwerinersee about the castle, a crime that would have met with summary vengeance157 in the old ducal days.
Rumor158 having it that the peace terms were to be published that afternoon, I hastily took train one morning back to Berlin, that I might be in the heart of the uproar159 they were expected to arouse. At the frontier of Mechlenburg soldiers of the late dukedom went carefully through passengers’ baggage in search of food, particularly eggs, of which a local ordinance160 forbade the exportation. The quest seemed to be thorough and I saw no tips passed, but there was considerable successful smuggling161, which came 176to light as soon as the train was well under way again. A well-dressed merchant beside me boastfully displayed a twenty-mark sausage in the bottom of his innocent-looking hand-bag, and his neighbors, not to be outdone in proof of cleverness, showed their caches of edibles162 laboriously163 concealed164 in brief-cases, hat-boxes, and laundry-bags.
“The peasants have grown absolutely shameless,” it was agreed. “They have the audacity165 to demand a mark or more for a single egg, and twenty for a chicken”—in other words, the rascals had turned upon the bourgeois166 some of his own favorite tricks, taking advantage of conditions which these same merchants would have considered legitimate167 sources of profit in their own business. Wrath168 against the “conscienceless” countrymen was unlimited169, but no one thought of shaming the smugglers for their cheating.
The contrast between the outward courtesy of these punctilious170 examples of the well-to-do class and their total lack of real, active politeness was provoking. A first-class compartment had been reserved for a sick soldier who was plainly on his last journey, with a comrade in attendance. Travelers visibly able to stand in the corridor crowded in upon him until the section built for six held thirteen, and forced the invalid171 to crouch172 upright in a corner. Women were rudely, almost brutally173, refused seats, unless they were pretty, in which case they were overwhelmed with fawning174 attentions.
A discussion of America broke out in the compartment I occupied. It resembled an exchange of opinions on the character of some dear friend of the gathering175 who had inadvertently committed some slight social breach176. There was not a word at which the most chauvinistic177 of my fellow-countrymen could have taken offense178. When I had listened for some time to the inexplicable179 expressions of affection for the nation that had turned the scales against their beloved Fatherland, I discarded my incognito180. My companions 177acknowledged themselves surprised, then redoubled their assertions of friendliness181. Was their attitude a mere pose, assumed on the chance of being heard by some representative of the country they hoped to placate182? It seemed unlikely, for they had had no reason to suspect my nationality. I decided to overstep the bounds of veracity183 in the hope of getting at their real thoughts, if those they were expressing were merely assumed.
“I said I am an American,” I broke in, “but do not misunderstand me. We Chileans are quite as truly Americans as those grasping Yankees who have been fighting against you.”
To my astonishment184, the entire group sprang instantly to the defense of my real countrymen as against those I had falsely adopted. All the silly slanders185 I had once heard in Chile they discarded as such, and advanced proofs of Yankee integrity which even I could not have assembled.
“You Chileans have nothing to fear from American aggression,” the possessor of the twenty-mark sausage concluded, reassuringly186, as the rumble39 of the train crossing the Spree set us to gathering our traps together. “The North Americans are a well-meaning people; but they are young, and England and France have led them temporarily astray, though they have not succeeded in corrupting187 their simple natures.”
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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hearsay
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| n.谣传，风闻 | |
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dilettante
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| n.半瓶醋，业余爱好者 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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10
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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13
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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14
foraging
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| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的现在分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
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15
hampers
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的第三人称单数 ) | |
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hamper
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| vt.妨碍，束缚，限制；n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
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wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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18
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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19
emaciated
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| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
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20
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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21
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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22
malnutrition
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| n.营养不良 | |
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23
shrilled
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| （声音）尖锐的，刺耳的，高频率的( shrill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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25
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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26
scarcity
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| n.缺乏，不足，萧条 | |
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27
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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28
buffeted
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| 反复敲打( buffet的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续猛击； 打来打去； 推来搡去 | |
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29
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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30
pandemonium
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| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
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31
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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32
civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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33
civilians
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| 平民，百姓( civilian的名词复数 )； 老百姓 | |
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34
supplementary
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| adj.补充的，附加的 | |
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35
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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36
harped
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| vi.弹竖琴（harp的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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37
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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38
grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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39
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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40
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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41
squandering
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的现在分词 ) | |
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42
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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43
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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44
maelstrom
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| n.大乱动；大漩涡 | |
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45
fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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46
precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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47
fracas
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| n.打架；吵闹 | |
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48
swirled
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
buffeting
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| 振动 | |
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50
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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51
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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52
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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53
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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54
sneeringly
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| 嘲笑地，轻蔑地 | |
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55
bellow
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| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
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56
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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57
fumed
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| 愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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58
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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59
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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60
straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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61
velvety
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| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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62
affront
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| n./v.侮辱，触怒 | |
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63
akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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64
rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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65
murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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66
apathetic
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| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
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67
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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68
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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69
antithesis
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| n.对立；相对 | |
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70
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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71
languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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72
besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
nauseating
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| adj.令人恶心的，使人厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的现在分词 ) | |
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74
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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75
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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76
edible
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| n.食品，食物；adj.可食用的 | |
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77
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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78
plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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79
entente
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| n.协定；有协定关系的各国 | |
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80
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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81
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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82
buxom
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| adj.（妇女）丰满的，有健康美的 | |
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83
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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84
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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85
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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86
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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87
query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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88
ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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89
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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90
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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91
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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92
confiscated
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| 没收，充公( confiscate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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93
foodstuffs
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| 食物，食品( foodstuff的名词复数 ) | |
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94
petroleum
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| n.原油，石油 | |
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95
utensils
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| 器具，用具，器皿( utensil的名词复数 )； 器物 | |
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96
unearthed
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| 出土的（考古） | |
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97
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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98
turnips
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| 芜青( turnip的名词复数 )； 芜菁块根； 芜菁甘蓝块根； 怀表 | |
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99
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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101
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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102
plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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103
toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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104
armistice
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| n.休战，停战协定 | |
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105
taxation
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| n.征税，税收，税金 | |
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106
prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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107
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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108
adroitly
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| adv.熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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109
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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110
specifying
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| v.指定( specify的现在分词 )；详述；提出…的条件；使具有特性 | |
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111
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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112
orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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113
aluminum
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| n.(aluminium)铝 | |
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114
spool
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| n.（缠录音带等的）卷盘（轴）；v.把…绕在卷轴上 | |
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115
nettles
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| n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
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116
rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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117
enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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118
sectors
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| n.部门( sector的名词复数 )；领域；防御地区；扇形 | |
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119
baubles
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| n.小玩意( bauble的名词复数 )；华而不实的小件装饰品；无价值的东西；丑角的手杖 | |
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120
coax
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| v.哄诱，劝诱，用诱哄得到，诱取 | |
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121
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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122
apprenticeship
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| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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123
haughtiness
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| n.傲慢；傲气 | |
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124
spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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125
coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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126
secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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127
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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128
tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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129
flayed
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| v.痛打( flay的过去式和过去分词 )；把…打得皮开肉绽；剥（通常指动物）的皮；严厉批评 | |
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130
badger
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| v.一再烦扰，一再要求，纠缠 | |
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131
laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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132
straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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133
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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134
outspoken
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| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
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135
wrecking
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| 破坏 | |
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136
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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137
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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138
breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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139
atrocities
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| n.邪恶，暴行( atrocity的名词复数 )；滔天大罪 | |
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140
courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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141
rambled
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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142
anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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143
psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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144
mentality
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| n.心理，思想，脑力 | |
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145
insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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146
astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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147
marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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148
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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151
rambles
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的第三人称单数 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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152
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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153
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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154
reigning
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| adj.统治的，起支配作用的 | |
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155
conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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zealously
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| adv.热心地；热情地；积极地；狂热地 | |
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157
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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158
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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159
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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160
ordinance
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| n.法令；条令；条例 | |
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161
smuggling
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| n.走私 | |
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162
edibles
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| 可以吃的，可食用的( edible的名词复数 )； 食物 | |
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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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165
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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166
bourgeois
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| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
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167
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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168
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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169
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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punctilious
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| adj.谨慎的，谨小慎微的 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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172
crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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174
fawning
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| adj.乞怜的，奉承的v.（尤指狗等）跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的现在分词 )；巴结；讨好 | |
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175
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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176
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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177
chauvinistic
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| a.沙文主义(者)的 | |
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178
offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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179
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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180
incognito
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| adv.匿名地；n.隐姓埋名；adj.化装的，用假名的，隐匿姓名身份的 | |
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181
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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182
placate
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| v.抚慰，平息(愤怒) | |
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183
veracity
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| n.诚实 | |
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184
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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185
slanders
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| 诽谤，诋毁( slander的名词复数 ) | |
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186
reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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187
corrupting
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| （使）败坏( corrupt的现在分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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