CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
DESCRIBES A WRECK, AND THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE.
A Swiss chalet on a woody knoll, high up on the grand slopes that bathetheir feet in the beautiful Lake of Geneva.
It is evening--a bright winter evening--with a golden glory in the skywhich reminds one powerfully of summer, and suggests the advent ofspring.
In the neighbouring town of Montreux there are busy people engaged inthe labours of the day. There are also idlers endeavouring to "kill"the little span of time that has been given them, in which to do theirquota of duty on the earth. So, also, there are riotous young peoplewho are actively fulfilling their duty by going off to skate, or slidedown the snow-clad hills, after the severer duties connected with bookand slate have been accomplished. These young rioters are aided andabetted by sundry persons of maturer years, who, having already finishedthe more important labours of the day of life, renew their own youth,and encourage the youngsters by joining them.
Besides these there are a few cripples who have been sent into the worldwith deficient or defective limbs--doubtless for wise and merciful ends.Merciful I say advisedly, for, "shall not the Judge of all the earth doright?" These look on and rejoice, perchance, in the joy of thejuveniles.
Among them, however, are some cripples of a very different stamp. TheCreator sent these into the world with broad shoulders, deep chests,good looks, gladsome spirits, manly frames, and vigorous wills. War hassent them here--still in young manhood--with the deep chests pierced bybullets or gashed by sabres, with the manly frames reduced to skeletons,the gladsome spirits gone, the ruddy cheeks hollow and wan, and thevigorous wills--subdued _at last_.
A few of these young cripples move slowly about with the aid of stick orcrutch, trying to regain, in the genial mountain air, some of the oldfire which has sunk so low--so very low. Others, seated inwheel-chairs, doubled up like old, old men, are pushed about from pointto point by stalwart mountaineers, while beside them walk sisters,mothers, or, perchance, young wives, whose cheery smiles and lightsomevoices, as they point out and refer to the surrounding objects ofnature, cannot quite conceal the feelings of profound and bitter sorrowwith which they think of the glorious manhood that has been lost, or thetender, pitiful, heart-breaking solicitude with which they cherish thepoor shadow that remains.
In a large airy apartment of the chalet on the woody knoll, there is onewho occupies a still lower level than those to whom we have justreferred--who cannot yet use the crutch or sit in the wheelchair, and onwhose ear the sounds of glee that enter by the open window fall withlittle effect.
He reclines at full length on a bed. He has lain thus, with littleeffort to move, and much pain when such effort was made, for many wearyweeks. Only one side of his face is visible, and that is scarred andtorn with wounds, some of which are not yet healed. The other side iscovered with bandages.
I am seated by his side, Ivanka is sitting opposite, near to theinvalid's feet, listening intently, if I may be allowed to say so, withher large black eyes, to a conversation which she cannot understand.
"You must not take so gloomy a view of your case, Nicholas. The doctorssay you will recover, and, my good fellow, you have no idea what can bedone by surgery in the way of putting a man together again after abreak-down. Bella would be grieved beyond measure if I were to write asyou wish."
I spoke cheerily, more because I felt it to be a duty to do so, thanbecause I had much hope.
The invalid paused for a few minutes as if to recover strength. Then hesaid--
"Jeff, I insist on your doing what I wish. It is unkind of you to dragme into a dispute when I am so weak. Tell the dear girl that I give herup--I release her from our engagement. It is likely that I shall die atany rate, which will settle the question, but if I do recover--why, justthink, my dear fellow, I put it to you, what sort of husband should Imake, with my ribs all smashed, my right leg cut off, my left handdestroyed, an eye gone, and my whole visage cut to pieces. No, Jeff--"
He paused; the light vein of humour which he had tried to assume passedoff, and there was a twitching about the muscles of his mouth as heresumed--
"No, Bella must never see me again."
Ivanka looked from the invalid's face to mine with eyes so earnest,piercing, and inquiring, that I felt grieved she did not understand us.
"I'm sorry, Nicholas, very sorry," said I, "but Bella has already beenwritten to, and will certainly be here in a day or two. I could notknow your state of mind on my first arrival, and, acting as I fanciedfor the best, I wrote to her."
Nicholas moved uneasily, and I observed a deep flush on his face, but hedid not speak.
That evening Ivanka put her arms round my neck, told me she lovedNicholas because of his kindness to her father, and besought meearnestly to tell her what had passed between us.
A good deal amused, I told her as much as I thought she couldunderstand.
"Oh! I should so like to see Bella," she said.
"So you shall, dear, when she comes."
"Does she speak Russian?"
"Yes. She has been several times in Russia, and understands thelanguage well."
As I had predicted, Bella arrived a few days after receiving my letter.My mother accompanied her.
"Oh, Jeff, this is dreadful!" said my poor mother, as she untied herbonnet-strings, and sat down on the sofa beside Bella, who could not forsome time utter a word.
"What child is that?" added my mother quickly, observing Ivanka.
"It is the daughter of Dobri Petroff.--Let me introduce you, Ivanka, tomy mother, and to my sister Bella--you know Bella?"
I had of course written to them a good deal about the poor child, andBella had already formed an attachment to her in imagination. Shestarted up on hearing Ivanka's name, and held out both hands. The childran to her as naturally as the needle turns to the pole.
While my mother and I were talking in a low tone about Nicholas, I couldnot avoid hearing parts of a conversation between my sister and Ivankathat surprised me much.
"Yes, oh! yes, I am quite sure of it. Your brother told me that he saidhe would never, never, never be so wicked as to let you come and seehim, although he loved you so much that he--"
"Hush, my dear child, not so loud."
Bella's whisper died away, and Ivanka resumed--
"_Yes_, he said there was almost nothing of him left. He was joking,you know, when he said that, but it is not so much of a joke after all,for I saw--"
"Oh! hush, dear, hush; tell me what he said, and speak lower."
Ivanka spoke so low that I heard no more, but what had reached my earwas sufficient to let me know how the current ran, and I was not sorrythat poor Bella's mind should be prepared for the terrible reality inthis way.
The battle of love was fought and won that day at Nicholas's bedside,and, as usual, woman was victorious.
I shall not weary the reader with all that was said. The concludingsentences will suffice.
"No, Nicholas," said Bella, holding the right hand of the woundedsoldier, while my mother looked on with tearful, and Ivanka with eager,eyes, "no, I will not be discarded. You must not presume, on thestrength of your being weak, to talk nonsense. I hold you, sir, to yourengagement, unless, indeed, you admit yourself to be a faithless man,and wish to cast me off. But you must not dispute with me in yourpresent condition. I shall exercise the right of a wife by ordering youto hold your tongue unless you drop the subject. The doctor says youmust not be allowed to talk or excite yourself, and the doctor's orders,you know, must be obeyed."
"Even if he should order a shattered man to renounce all thoughts ofmarriage?" asked Nicholas.
"If he were to do that," retorted Bella, with a smile, "I shouldconsider your case a serious one, and require a consultation with atleast two other doctors before agreeing to submit to his orders. Now,the question is settled, so we will say no more about it. Meanwhile youneed careful nursing, and mother and I are here to attend upon you."
; Thus with gentle raillery she led the poor fellow to entertain a fainthope that recovery might be possible, and that the future might not beso appallingly black as it had seemed before. Still the hope wasextremely faint at first, for no one knew so well as himself what awreck he was, and how impossible it would be for him, under the mostfavourable circumstances, ever again to stand up and look like hisformer self. Poor Bella had to force her pleasantry and her lightsometones, for she also had fears that he might still succumb, but, beingconvinced that a cheerful, hopeful state of mind was the best of allmedicines, she set herself to administer it in strong doses.
The result was that Nicholas began to recover rapidly. Time passed, andby slow degrees he migrated from his bed to the sofa. Then a few of hisgarments were put on, and he tried to stand on his remaining leg. Thedoctor, who assisted me in moving and dressing the poor invalid,comforted him with the assurance that the stump of the other would, incourse of time, be well enough to have a cork foot and ankle attached toit.
"And do you know," he added, with a smile, "they make these things sowell now that one can scarcely tell a false foot from a real one,--withjoint and moveable instep, and toes that work with springs, so thatpeople can walk with them quite creditably--indeed they can; I do notjest, I assure you."
"Nothing, however, can replace the left hand or the lost eye," returnedNicholas, with a faint attempt at a smile.
"There, my dear sir," returned the doctor, with animation, "you arequite wrong. The eye, indeed, can never be restored, though it willpartially close, and become so familiar to you and your friends that itwill almost cease to be noticed or remembered; but we shall have a stumpmade for the lower arm, with a socket to which you will be able to fix afork or a spoon, or--"
"Why, doctor," interrupted Nicholas, "what a spoon _you_ must be to--"
"Come," returned the doctor heartily, "that'll do. My services won't berequired here much longer I see, for I invariably find that when apatient begins to make bad jokes, there is nothing far wrong with him."
One morning, when we had dressed our invalid, and laid him on the sofa,he and I chanced to be left alone.
"Come here, Jeff," he said, "assist me to the glass--I want to have alook at myself."
It was the first time he had expressed such a desire, and I hesitatedfor a moment, not feeling sure of the effect that the sight might haveon him. Then I went to him, and only remarking in a quiet tone, "You'llimprove, you know, in the course of time," I led him to thelooking-glass.
He turned slightly pale, and a look of blank surprise flitted across hisface, but he recovered instantly, and stood for a few seconds surveyinghimself with a sad expression.
Well might he look sad, for the figure that met his gaze stooped likethat of an aged man; the head was shorn of its luxuriant curls; theterrible sabre-cut across the cheek, from the temple to the chin, whichhad destroyed the eye, had left a livid wound, a single glance at whichtold that it would always remain as a ghastly blemish; and there wereother injuries of a slighter nature on various parts of the face, whichmarred his visage dreadfully.
"Yes, Jeff," he said, turning away slowly, with a sigh, and limping backto his couch, "there's room for improvement. I thought myself not abad-looking fellow once. It's no great matter to have that fancy takenout of me, perhaps, but I grieve for Bella, and I really do think thatyou must persuade her to give up all idea of--"
"Now, Nic," said I, "don't talk nonsense."
"But I don't talk nonsense," he exclaimed, flushing with sudden energy,"I mean what I say. Do you suppose I can calmly allow that dear girl tosacrifice herself to a mere wreck, that cannot hope to be long acumberer of the ground?"
"And do you suppose," I retorted, with vehemence, "that I can calmlyallow my sister to be made a widow for life?--a widow, I say, for she isalready married to you in spirit, and nothing will ever induce her tountie the knot. You don't know Bella--ah! you needn't smile,--you don'tindeed. She is the most perversely obstinate girl I ever met with.Last night, when I mentioned to her that you had been speaking ofyourself as a mere wreck, she said in a low, easy-going, meek tone,`Jeff, I mean to cling to that wreck as long as it will float, anddevote my life to repairing it.' Now, when Bella says anything in alow, easy-going, and especially in a meek tone, it is utterly useless tooppose her: she has made up her mind, drawn her sword and flung away thescabbard, double-shotted all her guns, charged every torpedo in theship, and, finally, nailed her colours to the mast."
"Then," said Nicholas, with a laugh, "I suppose I must give in."
"Yes, my boy, you had better. If you don't, just think what will be theconsequences. First of all, you will die sooner than there is anyoccasion for; then Bella will pine, mope, get into bad health, andgradually fade away. That will break down my mother, whose susceptiblespirit could not withstand the shock. Of course, after that my ownhealth would give way, and the hopes of a dear little--well, that is tosay, ruination and widespread misery would be the result of yourunnatural and useless obstinacy."
"To save you all from that," said Nicholas, "_of course_ I must givein."
And Nicholas did give in, and the result was not half so disastrous ashe had feared.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
SOME MORE OF WAR'S CONSEQUENCES.
Let us turn once more to the Balkan Mountains. Snow covers alike thevalley and the hill. It is the depth of that inhospitable season whencombative men were wont, in former days, to retire into winter quarters,repose on their "laurels," and rest a while until the benign influencesof spring should enable them to recommence the "glorious" work ofslaying one another.
But modern warriors, like modern weapons, are more terrible now thanthey used to be. They scout inglorious repose--at least the greatstatesmen who send them out to battle scout it for them. While thesemen of super-Spartan mould sit at home in comfortable conclave over mildcigar and bubbling hookah, quibbling over words, the modern warrior isordered to prolong the conflict; and thus it comes to pass thatMuscovite and Moslem pour out their blood like water, and change thecolour of the Balkan snows.
In a shepherd's hut, far up the heights, which the smoke of battle couldnot reach, and where the din of deadly strife came almost softly, likethe muttering of distant thunder, a young woman sat on the edge of acouch gazing wistfully at the beautiful countenance of a dead girl. Thewatcher was so very pale, wan, and haggard, that, but for her attitudeand the motion of her great dark eyes, she also might have been mistakenfor one of the dead. It was Marika, who escaped with only a slightflesh-wound in the arm from the soldier who had pursued her into thewoods near her burning home.
A young man sat beside her also gazing in silence at the marblecountenance.
"No, Petko, no," said Marika, looking at the youth mournfully, "I cannotstay here. As long as the sister of my preserver lived it was my dutyto remain, but now that the bullet has finished its work, I must go. Itis impossible to rest."
"But, Marika," urged Petko Borronow, taking his friend's hand, "you knowit is useless to continue your search. The man who told me said he hadit from the lips of Captain Naranovitsch himself that dear Dobri died atPlevna with his head resting on the captain's breast, and--"
The youth could not continue.
"Yes, yes," returned Marika, with a look and tone of despair, "I knowthat Dobri is dead; I saw my darling boy slain before my eyes, and heardIvanka's dying scream; no wonder that my brain has reeled so long. ButI am strong now. I feel as if the Lord were calling on me to go forthand work for Himself since I have no one else to care for. Had Giuanalived I would have stayed to nurse her, but--"
"Oh that the fatal ball had found my heart instead of hers!" cried theyouth, clasping his hands and gazing at the tranquil countenance on thebed.
"Better as it is," said Marika in a low voice. "If you had been killedshe would have fallen into the hands of the Bashi-Bazouks, and thatwould have been worse--far worse. The Lord does all things well. Hegave, and He has taken away--oh let us try to
say, Blessed be His name!"
She paused for a few minutes and then continued--
"Yes, Petko, I must go. There is plenty of work in these days for aChristian woman to do. Surely I should go mad if I were to remain idle.You have work here, I have none, therefore I must go. Nurses arewanted in the ambulance corps of our--our--deliverers."
There was no sarcasm in poor Marika's heart or tone, but the slighthesitation in her speech was in itself sarcasm enough. With the aid ofher friend Petko, the poor bereaved, heart-stricken woman succeeded inmaking her way to Russian headquarters, where her sad tale, and thememory of her heroic husband, at once obtained for her employment as anurse in the large hospital where I had already spent a portion of mytime--namely, that of Sistova.
Here, although horrified and almost overwhelmed, at first, at the sightof so much and so terrible suffering, she gradually attained to a moreresigned and tranquil frame of mind. Her sympathetic tenderness ofheart conduced much to this, for she learned in some degree to forgether own sorrows in the contemplation of those of others. She found ameasure of sad comfort, too, while thus ministering to the wants ofworn, shattered, and dying young men, in the thought that they hadfought like lions on the battle-field, as Dobri had fought, and had lainbleeding, crushed, and helpless there, as Dobri had lain.
Some weeks after her arrival there was a slight change made in thearrangements of the hospital. The particular room in which she servedwas selected as being more airy and suited for those of the patientswho, from their enfeebled condition, required unusual care and nursing.
The evening after the change was effected, Marika, being on what may becalled the night-shift, was required to assist the surgeons of the wardon their rounds. They came to a bed on which lay a man who seemed inthe last stage of exhaustion.
"No bones broken," said one surgeon in a low tone to another, to whom hewas explaining the cases, "but blood almost entirely drained out of him.Very doubtful his recovery. Will require the most careful nursing."
Marika stood behind the surgeons. On hearing what they said she drewnearer and looked sadly at the man.
He was gaunt, cadaverous, and careworn, as if from long and severesuffering, yet, living skeleton though he was, it was obvious that hisframe had been huge and powerful.
Marika's first sad glance changed into a stare of wild surprise, thenthe building rang with a cry of joy so loud, so jubilant, that eventhose whose blood had almost ceased to flow were roused by it.
She sprang forward and leaped into the man's outstretched arms.
Ay, it was Dobri Petroff himself--or rather his attenuated shadow,--withapparently nothing but skin and sinew left to hold his bones together,and not a symptom of blood in his whole body. The little blood left,however, rushed to his face, and he found sufficient energy to exclaim"Thank the Lord!" ere his senses left him.
It is said that joy never kills. Certainly it failed to do so on thisoccasion. Dobri soon recovered consciousness, and then, little bylittle, with many a pause for breath, and in tones that were woefullyunlike to those of the bold, lion-like scout of former days, he told howhe had fainted and fallen on the breast of his master, how he had lainall night on the battle-field among the dead and dying, how he had beenstripped and left for dead by the ruffian followers of the camp, and howat last he had been found and rescued by one of the ambulance-wagons ofthe Red Cross.
When Marika told him of the death of their two children he was not somuch overwhelmed as she had anticipated.
"I'm not so sure that you are right, Marika," he said, after a long sadpause. "That our darling boy is now in heaven I doubt not, for you sawhim killed. But you did not see Ivanka killed, and what you call herdeath-shriek may not have been her last. We must not be too ready tobelieve the worst. If I had not believed you and them to have been allmurdered together, I would not have sought death so recklessly. I willnot give up hope in that God who has brought _you_ back, and saved _me_from death. I _think_ that darling Ivanka is still alive."
Marika was only too glad to grasp at and hold on to the hope thus heldout--feeble though the ground was on which it rested, and it needscarcely be said that she went about her hospital duties after that witha lightness and joy of heart which she had not felt for many a day.
Dobri Petroff's recovery was now no longer doubtful. Day by day hisstrength returned, until at last he was dismissed cured.
But it must not be supposed that Dobri was "himself again." He stood aserect, indeed, and became as sturdy in appearance as he used to be, butthere was many a deep-seated injury in his powerful frame which damagedits lithe and graceful motions, and robbed it of its youthful spring.
Returning to the village of Venilik at the conclusion of the armistice,the childless couple proceeded to rebuild their ruined home.
The news of the bold blacksmith's recovery, and return with his wife tothe old desolated home, reached me at a very interesting period of ourfamily history--my sister Bella's wedding day.
It came through my eccentric friend U. Biquitous, who, after goingthrough the Russo-Turkish war as correspondent of the _Evergreen Isle_,had proceeded in the same capacity to Greece. After detailing a goodmany of his adventures, and referring me to the pages of the _EI_ forthe remainder of his opinions on things in general, he went on, "By theway, in passing through Bulgaria lately, I fell in with your friendDobri Petroff, the celebrated scout of the Balkan army. He and hispretty wife send their love, and all sorts of kind messages which Itotally forget. Dobri said he supposed you would think he was dead, buthe isn't, and I can assure you looks as if he didn't mean to die forsome time to come. They are both very low, however, about the loss oftheir children, though they still cling fondly to the belief that theirlittle girl Ivanka has not been killed."
Here, then, was a piece of news for my mother and family!--for we hadregularly adopted Ivanka, and the dear child was to act that very day asone of Bella's bridesmaids.
I immediately told my mother, but resolved to say nothing to Ivanka,Nicholas, or Bella, till the ceremony was over.
It was inexpressibly sad to see Nicholas Naranovitsch that day, for,despite the fact that by means of a cork foot he could walk slowly tothe church without the aid of a crutch, his empty sleeve, marred visage,and slightly stooping gait, but poorly represented the handsome youngsoldier of former days.
But my sister saw none of the blemishes--only the beauties--of the man.
"You've only got quarter of a husband, Bella," he said with a sad smilewhen the ceremony was over.
"You were unnecessarily large before," retorted Bella. "You could standreducing; besides, you are doubled to-day, which makes you equal to twoquarters, and as the wife is proverbially the better half, that bringsyou up nearly to three quarters, so don't talk any more nonsense, sir.With good nursing I shall manage, perhaps, to make a whole of you oncemore."
"So be it," said Nicholas, kissing her. When they had left us, mymother called me--
"Jeff," she said, with a look of decision in her meek face which I havenot often observed there, "I have made up my mind that you must go backto Turkey."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, Jeff. You had no right, my dear boy, to bring that child awayfrom her home in such a hurry."
"But," said I remonstratively, "her home at the time I carried her offwas destroyed--indeed, most of the village was a smoking ruin, andliable at any moment to be replundered by the irregular troops of bothsides, while Ivanka's parents were reported dead--what could I do?"
"I don't know what you could do in those circumstances, but I know whatyou can do now, and that is, pack your portmanteau and prepare to takeIvanka to Venilik. The child must be at once restored to her parents.I cannot bear to think of their remaining in ignorance of her beingalive. Very likely Nicholas and Bella will be persuaded to extend theirhoneymoon to two, or even three, months, and join you in a tour throughthe south of Europe, after which you will all come home strong and wellto spend the winter with me."
&n
bsp; "Agreed, mother; your programme shall be carried out to the letter, if Ican manage it."
"When," asked my mother, "did your friend say he passed through thatvillage?"
I opened his letter to ascertain, when my eye fell on a postscript whichhad escaped me on the first perusal. It ran thus--
"P.S. I see no reason why I should not ask you to wish me joy. I'm going to be married, my boy, to Blue-eyes! I could not forget her. I had no hope whatever of discovering her. I had settled in my mind to live and die an old bachelor, when I suddenly met her. It was in Piccadilly, when I was home, some months ago, in reference to an increase of my nominal salary from the _EI_ (which by the way came to nothing--its original figure). I entered a 'bus and ran my head against that of a lady who was coming out. I looked up to apologise, and was struck dumb. It was Blue-eyes! I assisted her to alight, and stammered, I know not what, something like--`A thousand pardons-- surely we have met--excuse me--a mistake--_Thunderer_--captain, great guns, torpedoes, and blazes--' in the midst of which she smiled, bowed, and moved on. I moved after her. I traced her (reverentially) to a house. It was that of a personal friend! I visited that friend, I became particularly intimate with that friend, I positively bored that friend until he detested me. At last I met her at the house of that friend and--but why go on? I am now `captain' of the Blue-eyes, and would not exchange places with any officer in the Royal Navy; we are to be married on my return, if I'm not shot, assassinated, or hanged in the meantime. U.B."
"Ah, Jeff," said my mother, "how I wish that you would--"
She stopped.
"I know what you're going to say," I returned, with a smile; "and there_is_ a charming little--"
"Well, Jeff, why don't you go on?"
"Well, I don't see why I should not tell you, mother, that there _is_ acharming little woman--the very best woman in the world--who hasexpressed herself willing to--you understand?"
"Yes, I understand."
Reader, I would gladly make a confidant of yourself in this matter, andtell you all about this charming little woman, if it were not for thefact that she is standing at my elbow at this very minute, causing me tomake blots, and telling me not to write nonsense!
Before dismissing U. Biquitous, I may as well introduce here the lastmeeting I had with him. It was a considerable time after the war wasover--after the "Congress" had closed its labours, and my friend hadsettled--if such a term could be applied to one who never settled--nearLondon. Nicholas and I were sitting in a bower at the end of ourgarden, conversing on the war which had been happily brought to a close.Bella and my mother were seated opposite to us, the latter knitting apiece of worsted-work, the size of whose stitches and needles was suitedto the weakness of her eyes, and the former busy with a pencil sketch ofthe superb view of undulating woodland which stretched away for miles infront of our house.
"No doubt it is as you state, Jeff," said Nicholas, in reply to my lastremark; "war is a miserable method of settling a dispute, quite unworthyof civilised, to say nothing of Christian, men; but, then, how are we toget along without it? It's of no use saying that an evil must be putdown--put a stop to--until you are able to show _how_ it is to bestopped."
"That does not follow," said I, quickly; "it may be quite possible forme to see, point out, and condemn an evil although I cannot suggest aremedy and my earnest remonstrances regarding it may be useful in theway of helping to raise a general outcry of condemnation, which may havethe effect of turning more capable minds than my own to the devising ofa remedy. Sea-sickness is a horrible malady; I perceive it, I know itto be so. I loudly draw attention to the fact; I won't be silenced.Hundreds, thousands, of other miserables take heart and join me. Wecan't stand it! we shan't! is the general cry. The attention of an ableengineer is attracted by the noise we make, and the _Calais-Douvre_steamboat springs into being, a vessel which is supposed to rendersea-sickness an impossibility. Whether it accomplishes this end or notis beside the question. The point is, that, by the vigorous use of ourtongues and pens in condemnation of an admitted evil, we have drawnforth a vigorous _attempt_ to get the better of it."
"But you don't expect to do away with war altogether?" said Nicholas.
"Certainly not; I am not mad, I am only hopeful. As long as sin reignsin this world we shall have more or less of war, and I don't expectuniversal peace until the Prince of Peace reigns. Nevertheless, it ismy duty to `seek peace,' and in every way to promote it."
"Come, now, let us have this matter out," said Nicholas, lighting acigar.
"You are as fond of argument as a Scotsman, Nic," murmured Bella,putting a powerful touch in the foreground of her sketch.
"Suppose, now," continued Nicholas, "that you had the power to influencenations, what would you suggest instead of war?"
"Arbitration," said I, promptly; "I would have the nations of Europe toband together and agree _never_ to fight but _always_ to appeal toreason, in the settlement of disputes. I would have them reducestanding armies to the condition of peace establishments--that is, justenough to garrison our strongholds, and be ready to back up our policein keeping ruffians in order. This small army would form a nucleusround which the young men of the nation would rally in the event of_unavoidable_ war."
"Ha!" exclaimed Nicholas, with a smile of sarcasm, "you would then haveus all disarm, beat our swords into reaping-hooks, and melt our bayonetsand cannon into pots and pans. A charming idea! Now, suppose there wasone of the nations--say Russia or Turkey--that declined to join thispeaceful alliance, and, when she saw England in her disarmed condition,took it into her head to pay off old scores, and sent ironclads andthousands of well-trained and well-appointed troops to invade you, whatwould you do?"
"Defend myself," said I.
"What! with your peace-nucleus, surrounded by your rabble of untrainedyoung men?"
"Nicholas," said my mother, in a mild voice, pausing in her work, "youmay be as fond of argument as a Scotsman, but you are not quite as fair.You have put into Jeff's mouth sentiments which he did not express, andmade assumptions which his words do not warrant. He made no referenceto swords, reaping-hooks, bayonets, cannon, pots or pans, and did notrecommend that the young men of nations should remain untrained."
"Bravo! mother; thank you," said I, as the dear old creature dropped hermild eyes once more on her work; "you have done me nothing but justice.There is one point, however, on which I and those who are opposed to mecoincide exactly; it is this, that the best way to maintain peace is tomake yourself thoroughly capable and ready for war."
"With your peculiar views, that would be rather difficult, I shouldfancy," said Nicholas, with a puzzled look.
"You fancy so, because you misunderstand my views," said I; "besides, Ihave not yet fully explained them--but here comes one who will explainthem better than I can do myself."
As I spoke a man was seen to approach, with a smart free-and-easy air.
"It is my friend U. Biquitous," said I, rising and hastening to meethim.
"Ah, Jeff, my boy, glad I've found you all together," cried my friend,wringing my hand and raising his hat to the ladies. "Just come over tosay good-bye. I'm engaged again on the _Evergreen Isle_--same salaryand privileges as before--freer scope, if possible, than ever."
"And where are you going to, Mr Biquitous?" asked my mother.
"To Cyprus, madam,--the land of the--of the--the something or other; notgot coached up yet, but you shall have it all _in extenso_ ere long inthe _Evergreen_, with sketches of the scenery and natives. I'll order acopy to be sent you."
"Very kind, thank you," said my mother; "you are fond of travelling, Ithink?"
"Fond of it!" exclaimed my friend; "yes, but that feebly expresses mysentiments,--I _revel_ in travelling, I am mad about it. To roam overthe world, by land and sea, gathering information, recording it,collating it, extending it, condensing it, and publishing it, for thebenefit of the readers of the _Evergreen Isle_, is my chief terrestrialjoy."
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br /> "Why, Mr Biquitous," said Bella, looking up from her drawing, with aslight elevation of the eyebrows, "I thought you were a married man."
"Ah! Mrs Naranovitsch, I understand your reproofs; but _that_, madam,I call a celestial joy. Looking into my wife's blue eyes is what I callstar-gazing, and that is a celestial, not a terrestrial, occupation.Next to making the stars twinkle, I take pleasure in travelling--flyingthrough space,--
"Crashing on the railroads, Skimming on the seas, Bounding on the mountain-tops, Battling with the breeze. Roaming through the forest, Scampering on the plain, Never stopping, always going, Round and round again."
"How very beautiful,--so poetical!" said Bella.
"So suggestively peaceful," murmured Nicholas.
"Your own composition?" asked my mother.
"A mere _morceau_," replied my friend, modestly, "tossed off to fill upa gap in the _Evergreen_."
"You should write poetry," said I.
"Think so? Well, I've had some notion at times, of trying my hand at anode, or an epic, but, man, I find too many difficulties in the way. Asto `feet,' now, I can't manage feet in poetry. If it were inches oryards, one might get along, but feet are neither one thing nor another.Then, rhyme bothers me. I've often to run over every letter in thealphabet to get hold of a rhyme--click, thick, pick, rick, chick,brick--that sort of thing, you know. Sentiment, too, is verytroublesome. Either I put too much or too little sentiment into myverses; sometimes they are all sentiment together; not unfrequently theyhave none at all; or the sentiment is false, which spoils them, youknow. Yes, much though I should like to be a poet, I must contentmyself with prose. Just fancy, now, my attempting a poem on Cyprus!What rhymes with Cyprus? Fyprus, gyprus, highprus, kyprus, lyprus,tryprus, and so on to the end. It's all the same; nothing will do. Nodoubt Hook would have managed it; Theodore could do anything in thatway, but _I_ can't."
"Most unfortunate! But for these difficulties you might have been asecond Milton. You leave your wife behind, I suppose," said Bella,completing her sketch and shutting the book.
"What!" exclaimed my volatile friend, becoming suddenly grave, "leaveBlue-eyes behind me! leave the mitigator of my woes, the doubler of myjoys, the light of my life behind me! No, Mrs Naranovitsch, Blue-eyesis necessary to my existence; she inspires my pen and corrects myspelling; she lifts my soul, when required, above the petty cares oflife, and enables me to take flights of genius, which, without her, wereimpossible, and you know that flights of genius are required,occasionally, of the correspondent of a weekly--at least of an Irishweekly. Yes, Blue-eyes goes with me. We shall levant together."
"Are bad puns allowed in the _Evergreen_?" I asked.
"Not unless excessively bad," returned my friend; "they won't tolerateanything lukewarm."
"Well, now, Biquitous," said I, "sit down and give Nicholas, who is hardto convince, your opinion as to the mode in which this and othercountries ought to prepare for self-defence."
"In earnest, do you mean?"
"In earnest," said I.
"Well, then," said my friend, "if I were in power I would make every manin Great Britain a trained soldier."
"Humph!" said Nicholas, "that has been tried by other nations withoutgiving satisfaction."
"But," continued U. Biquitous, impressively, "I would do so withouttaking a single man away from his home, or interfering with his dutiesas a civilian. I would have all the males of the land trained to armsin boyhood--during school-days--at that period of life when boys arebest fitted to receive such instruction, when they would `go in' formilitary drill, as they now go in for foot-ball, cricket, orgymnastics--at that period when they have a good deal of leisure time,when they would regard the thing more as play than work--when theirmemories are strong and powerfully retentive, and when the principlesand practice of military drill would be as thoroughly implanted in themas the power to swim or skate, so that, once acquired, they'd neverquite lose it. I speak from experience, for I learned to skate and swimwhen a boy, and I feel that nothing--no amount of disuse--can ever robme of these attainments. Still further, in early manhood I joined thegreat volunteer movement, and, though I have now been out of the forcefor many years, I know that I could `fall in' and behave tolerably wellat a moment's notice, while a week's drill would brush me up into asgood a soldier as I ever was or am likely to be. Remember, I speak onlyof rank and file, and the power to carry arms and use themintelligently. I would compel boys to undergo this training, but wouldmake it easy, on doctor's certificate, or otherwise, for anxious parentsto get off the duty, feeling assured that the fraction of trained menthus lost to the nation would be quite insignificant. Afterwards, a fewdays of drill each year would keep men well up to the mark; and even inregard to this brushing-up drill I would make things very easy, andwould readily accept every reasonable excuse for absence, in the firmbelief that the willing men would be amply sufficient to maintain our`reserve force.' As to the volunteers, I would encourage them asheretofore, and give them more honour and privileges than they possessat present. Thus would an army be ever ready to spring into being at aday's notice, and be _thoroughly_ capable of defending hearths and homesin a few weeks.
"For our colonies and our authority at home, I would have a very small,_well-paid_, and thoroughly efficient standing army, which would form aperfect model in military matters, and a splendid skeleton on which themuscle and sinew of the land might wind itself if invasion threatened.For the rest, I would keep my bayonets and artillery in serviceablecondition, and my `powder dry.' If all Europe acted thus, she would benot less ready for war than she is now, and would have all her vigorousmen turned into producers instead of consumers, to the immense advantageof the States' coffers, to the great comfort of the women and children,to the lessening of crime and poverty, and to the general well-being ofthe world at large."
"My dear sir," said Nicholas, with a laugh, "you were born before yourtime."
"It may be so," returned the other, lightly, "nevertheless I will livein the hope of seeing the interests of peace more intelligently advancedthan they have been of late; and if the system which I suggest is notfound to be the best, I will rejoice to hear of a better, and will do mybest to advocate it in the _Evergreen Isle_. But now I must go;Blue-eyes and Cyprus await me. Farewell."
U. Biquitous shook hands heartily, and walked rapidly away down theavenue, where he was eventually hidden from our view by a bush oflaurel.
To return from this digression.
It is not difficult in these days to "put a girdle round the world."Ivanka and I soon reached the village of Venilik.
It was a sad spectacle of ruin and desolation, but we found DobriPetroff and Marika in the old home, which had been partially rebuilt.The blacksmith's anvil was ringing as merrily as ever when weapproached, and his blows appeared to fall as heavily as in days goneby, but I noticed, when he looked up, that his countenance was lined andvery sad, while his raven locks were prematurely tinged with grey.
Shall I describe the meeting of Ivanka with her parents? I think not.The imagination is more correct and powerful than the pen in such cases.New life seemed from that moment to be infused into the much-triedpair. Marika had never lost her trust in God through all her woes, andeven in her darkest hours had refused to murmur. She had kissed the rodthat smote her, and now she praised Him with a strong and joyful heart.
Alas! there were many others in that village, and thousands of othersthroughout that blood-soaked land, who had no such gleam of sunshinesent into the dark recesses of their woe-worn hearts--poor innocentsouls these, who had lost their joy, their possessions, their hope,their all in this life, because of the mad, unreasonable superstitionthat it is necessary for men at times to arrange their differences bywar!
War! what is it? A monster which periodically crushes the energies,desolates the homes, swallows thousands of the young lives, and sweepsaway millions of the money of mankind. It bids Christianity stand asidefor a time. It legalises wholesale
murder and robbery. It affords asafe opportunity to villainy to work its diabolic will, so that some ofthe fairest scenes of earth are converted into human shambles. Itdestroys the labour of busy generations, past and present, and saddlesheavy national debt on those that are yet unborn. It has been estimatedthat the national debts of Europe now amount to nearly 3000 millionssterling, more than three-fourths of which have been required for warand warlike preparations, and that about 600 millions are annually takenfrom the capital and industry of nations for the expense of past, andthe preparation for future wars. War tramples gallantry in the dust,leaves women at the mercy of a brutal soldiery, slaughters old men, andtosses babes on bayonet-points. All this it does, and a great dealmore, in the way of mischief; what does it accomplish in the way ofgood? What has mankind gained by the wars of Napoleon the First, whichcost, it is said, two million of lives, to say nothing of themaimed-for-life and the bereaved? Will the gain or the loss of Alsaceand Lorraine mitigate or increase in any appreciable degree the woe ofFrench and Prussian widows? Will the revenues of these provinces payfor the loss consequent on the stagnation of trade and industry? Whathas been gained by the Crimean war, which cost us thousands of lives andmillions in money? Nothing whatever! The treaties which were to securewhat had been gained have been violated, and the empire for which wefought has been finally crushed.
When waged in self-defence war is a sad, a horrible necessity. Whenentered into with a view to national aggrandisement, or for an _idea_,it is the greatest of crimes. The man who creeps into your house atnight, and cuts your throat while you are asleep in bed, is a sneakingmonster, but the man who sits "at home at ease," safe from thetremendous "dogs" which he is about to let loose, and, with diplomaticpen, signs away the peace of society and the lives of multitudes withoutserious cause, is a callous monster. Of the two the sneak is the lessobjectionable, because less destructive.
During this visit to Venilik, I spent some time in renewing my inquiriesas to the fate of my yacht's crew, but without success, and I was forcedto the sad conclusion that they must either have been drowned orcaptured, and, it may be, killed after reaching the land. Longafterwards, however, I heard it rumoured that Mr Whitlaw had escapedand returned to his native country. There is, therefore, some reason tohope that that sturdy and true-hearted American still lives to relate,among his other stirring narratives, an account of that memorable nightwhen he was torpedoed on the Danube.
Before finally bidding adieu to the Petroff family, I had many a talkwith Dobri on the subject of war as we wandered sadly about the ruinedvillage. The signs of the fearful hurricane by which it had been sweptwere still fresh upon it, and when I looked on the burnt homesteads, thetrampled crops, and neglected fields, the crowds of new-made graves, thecurs that quarrelled over unburied human bones, the blood-stained wallsand door-posts, the wan, almost bloodless, faces of the few who hadescaped the wrath of man, and reflected that all this had been broughtabout by a "Christian" nation, fighting in the interests of the Princeof Peace, I could not help the fervent utterance of the prayer: "O God,scatter thou the people that delight in war!"
THE END.
In the Track of the Troops Page 25
