The Good Soldier Svejk (8 page)

"You measly, low-down skunk, you !"

After the departure of the intruders, Schweik went to have it out with Mrs. Muller, but he could discover no sign of her, except a piece of paper, upon which in her scrawly handwriting she had, with unusual ease, recorded her thoughts regarding the unfortunate episode of the loan of Schweik's bed to the porter from the night club.

Pleese sir forgive me for not seeing you agane, becos I shall jump out of the winder.

"Liar," said Schweik, and waited.

Half an hour later the unhappy Mrs. Muller crept into the kitchen, and from her downcast expression it was evident that she expected Schweik to provide her with words of comfort.

"If you want to jump out of the window," said Schweik, "go into the bedroom. I've opened the window for you. I wouldn't advise you to jump out of the kitchen window, because if you did, you'd fall into the roses in the garden and squash them and then you'd have to pay for them. If you jump out of the bedroom window, you'll land nicely on the pavement, and if you're lucky, you'll break your neck. If your luck's out, you'll just break all your ribs, arms and legs, and then it'll cost you a pretty penny in the hospital."

Mrs. Mûller burst into tears. Quietly she went into the bedroom, closed the window and came back, saying: "There's a dreadful draught from that window, and it wouldn't do your rheumatism any good, sir."

Then she went to make the bed, putting everything straight with unusual care. When she rejoined Schweik in the kitchen, she remarked with tears in her eyes : "Those two puppies, sir, that we kept in the yard, they've died. And the St. Bernard dog ran away when the police were searching the place."

"Holy Moses !" exclaimed Schweik. "He'll get himself into a nice mess. I'd bet anything he'll have the police after him."

"He did bite one police inspector, when he pulled him out from under the bed while they were looking round the place," continued Mrs. Muller. "It started this way : One of the gentlemen said that there was somebody under the bed and so they called on the St. Bernard in the name of the law to come out and when he wouldn't come, they pulled him out. So he snapped at them and bolted out through the door and he hasn't been back since. They asked me a lot of questions, too, about who comes here and whether we get any money from abroad, and then they started calling me names when I told them that money didn't come from abroad very often, but the last time it was from a gentleman at Brno who sent sixty crowns in advance for an Angora cat that you advertised about in the newspaper and instead of which you sent him a blind fox terrier puppy in a packing case. After that they talked to me as nice as could be and so as I shouldn't be scared at being left all alone here, they said I ought to take the
porter from the night club as a lodger. You know, the one you sent about his business."

"I'm having a rough time with all these police officers, Mrs. Muller. I bet you won't see many people coming here to buy dogs now," sighed Schweik.

I do not know whether the gentleman who inspected the police records after the collapse of Austria could make anything of such items in the secret police funds as : B. 40 cr. F. 50 cr. M. 80 cr. etc., but they would be quite mistaken if they supposed that B, F and M are the initials of persons who for 40, 50 or 80 crowns betrayed the Czech nation to the Austrian eagle.

B. stands for St. Bernard, F. for fox terrier and M. for mastiff. All these dogs were taken by Bretschneider from Schweik to the police headquarters. They were hideous freaks which had nothing whatever in common with any of the pure breeds, as which Schweik foisted them off upon Bretschneider.

The St. Bernard was a cross between a mongrel poodle and a sort of dubious cur ; the fox terrier had the ears of a dachshund, was the size of a mastiff and had bandy legs as if it had suffered from rickets. The mastiff had a shaggy head resembling the jowl of a collie and lopped tail ; it was no taller than a dachshund, and was shorn behind.

Then Detective Kalous went there to buy a dog and he returned with a cowed monstrosity resembling a spotted hyena, with.the mane of a Scottish sheep dog, and to the items of the secret funds was added : R. 90 cr.

This monstrosity was supposed to be a retriever.

But not even Kalous managed to worm anything out of Schweik. He fared the same as Bretschneider. Schweik transferred the most skilful political conversation to the subject of how to cure distemper in puppies, and the only result produced by the most artfully contrived traps was that Schweik foisted off upon Bretschneider another incredibly cross-bred canine freak.

7.

Schweik Joins the Army.

While the forests by the river Raab in Galicia beheld the Austrian troops in full flight, and in Serbia the Austrian divisions, one by one, were receiving the drubbing they so richly deserved, the Austrian Ministry of War suddenly thought of Schweik as a possible means for helping the monarchy out of its fix.

When Schweik received notice that within a week he was to present himself for medical examination, he was in bed with another attack of rheumatism.

Mrs. Muller wae making him coffee in the kitchen.

"Mrs. Mùller," came Schweik's tranquil voice from the bedroom. "Mrs. Muller, come here a moment."

When the charwoman was standing by his bedside, Schweik said in the same tranquil tones : "Sit down, Mrs. Muller."

There was something mysteriously solemn in his voice.

When Mrs. Muller had sat down, Schweik sat up in bed and announced : "I'm going to join the army."

"My gracious me !" exclaimed Mrs. Muller, "and what are you going to do there?"

"Fight," replied Schweik in a sepulchral voice. "Austria's in a bad way. Up in the North we've got our work cut out to keep them away from Cracow, and down in the South they'll be all over Hungary if we don't get busy soon. Things look very black whichever way you turn, and that's why they're calling me up. Why, only yesterday I read in the paper that clouds are gathering above our beloved country."

"But you can't walk."

"That doesn't matter, Mrs. Muller, I'll join the army in a Bath chair. You know that confectioner round the corner, he's got the kind of thing I want. Years and years ago he used to wheel his lame grandfather—a bad-tempered old buffer he was too—in it, for a breath of fresh air. That's the Bath chair you're going to wheel me to the army in, Mrs. Miiller."

Mrs. Miiller burst into tears. "Hadn't I better run for the doctor, sir?"

"Not a bit of it. Except for my legs I'm a sound piece of cannon fodder, and at a time when Austria's in a mess, every cripple must be at his post. Just you go on making the coffee."

And while Mrs. Miiller, tear-stained and flustered, was straining the coffee, the good soldier Schweik began to warble in bed :

"General Windischgraets and all his commanders Started the battle at the break of day; Hop, hop, hop !

They started the battle and began to pray: Help us, O Lord, with the Virgin Mary; Hop, hop, hop!"

Mrs. Mùller, scared by this dreadful battle song, forgot about the coffee, and trembling from head to foot, listened in terror to the good soldier Schweik, who went on warbling in bed :

"With the Virgin Mary and the -four bridges here, Piedmont, look out, for your end is near; Hop, hop, hop!

There at Solferino a battle began, Lots of blood was shed, knee-deep it ran; Hop, hop, hop!

Knee-deep ran the blood and corpses by the load, The boys of the Eighteenth, their derring-do they showed; Hop, hop, hop!

The boys of the Eighteenth, don't be afraid, A waggon-load of money is coming to your aid; Hop, hop, hop!"

"Goodness, gracious, Mr. Schweik, please don't," could be heard a pitiable voice from the kitchen, but Schweik concluded his war song :

"A waggon-load of money and a cartful of stew, What other regiment could do as much as you? Hop, hop, hop!"

Mrs. Miiller rushed out of doors and ran for the doctor. When he returned an hour later, Schweik was dozing. He was aroused from his slumbers by a portly gentleman who held his hand on Schweik's forehead for a moment and said :

"Pray don't be alarmed. I'm Dr. Pavek from Vinohrady— Show me your hand—Put this thermometer under your arm —that's right—Show me your tongue—More of it—Keep it still—What did your father and mother die of?"

And thus it came about that at the time when Vienna desired all the nations of Austria-Hungary to show the most sterling examples of fidelity and devotion, Dr. Pavek was prescribing bromide for Schweik's patriotic enthusiasm and recommending the undaunted and worthy warrior Schweik not to think about the army.

"Continue in a recumbent posture and keep your mind at rest. I will return to-morrow."

When he came the next day, he asked Mrs. Muller in the kitchen how the patient was getting on.

"He's worse, Doctor," she replied, with genuine concern. "In the night, when his rheumatism came on, he was singing the Austrian anthem, if you please."

Dr. Pavek saw himself compelled to counter this new manifestation of his patient's loyalty by increasing the dose of bromide.

On the third day Mrs. Muller reported that Schweik was getting still worse.

"In the afternoon, Doctor, he sent for a map showing what he called the seat of war, and in the night his mind started wandering and he said that Austria would win."

"And is he using the powders in accordance with my prescription?"

"He hasn't sent for them yet, Doctor."

Dr. Pavek departed, after having let loose upon Schweik a tempest of diatribes, with the assurance that never again would he treat a patient who declined to accept his medical assistance with bromide.

Only two days were left before Schweik was to appear before the recruiting medical board.

During this time Schweik made the appropriate preparations. First of all he sent Mrs. Muller for a military cap and secondly he sent her to the confectioner round the corner to borrow from him the Bath chair in which he used to wheel his lame grandfather, that bad-tempered old buffer, for a breath of fresh air. Then he remembered that he needed a pair of crutches. Fortunately the confectioner had also kept a pair of crutches as a family keepsake to remember his grandfather by.

All that he wanted now was the bunch of flowers worn by recruits. This also was obtained for him by Mrs. Muller, who during these few days became remarkably thin and wept wherever she went.

And thus, on that memorable day, the following example of touching loyalty was displayed in the streets of Prague :

An old woman pushing a Bath chair, in which sat a man wear-

ing a military cap with a polished peak and brandishing a pair of crutches. And his coat was adorned with a flamboyant bunch of flowers.

And this man, again and again brandishing his crutches, yelled, as he passed through the streets of Prague :

"To Belgrade, to Belgrade!"

He was followed by a crowd of people, the nucleus of which-had been an insignificant knot of idlers, assembled in front of the house whence Schweik had proceeded to the army.

Schweik duly noted that the police officers, stationed at various crossroads, saluted him.

In Vaclav Square the crowd around Schweik's Bath chair had increased to several hundred, and at the corner of Kradovska Street it mobbed a German student wearing a cap with the colours of his association, who shouted to Schweik:

"Heil! Nieder mit den Serben
!"
¹

At the corner of Vodickova Street the mounted police interfered and dispersed the crowd.

When Schweik showed the police inspector in black and white that he was to appear that day before the medical board, the inspector was somewhat disappointed and to restrict the continuance of any disorder he had the Bath chair, with Schweik inside it, escorted by two mounted constables to the headquarters of the medical board.

The
Prague Official News
published the following report on this occurrence :

PATRIOTISM OF A CRIPPLE

Yesterday morning the pedestrians in the main streets of Prague were the witnesses of a scene which bears admirable testimony that in this grave and momentous epoch the sons of our nation also can give the most sterling examples of fidelity and devotion to the throne of our aged ruler. It is not too much to say that we have returned to the times of the ancient Greeks and Romans, when Mucius Scœvola had himself led into battle, regardless of his burned hand. The most sacred emotions and sentiment were touchingly demonstrated yesterday by a cripple on crutches who was being wheeled along in a Bath chair by an old woman. This scion of the Czech nation was, of his own accord and regardless of his infirmity, having himself conveyed to the army in order that he might give up his life