The Coming Conquest of England

A >> August Niemann >> The Coming Conquest of England


The old gentleman did not answer at once. He sat immersed in thought,
and a considerable time elapsed before he spoke.

"Anyone can keep raising the standpoint of his view of things. It is
like ascending the mountains there. From each higher range the view
becomes more comprehensive, while the details of the panorama gradually
disappear. Naturally, to one looking down from so lofty a standpoint,
all political interests shrivel up to insignificant nothings, and then
patriotism no longer exists. But I think that we are first of all bound
to work in the sphere in which we have once been placed. A man who
neglects his wife and children in the desire to benefit the world by his
ideas, neglects the narrowest sphere of his duties. But in that case the
welfare of his own people, of his own state, must be for every man the
highest objects of his efforts; then only, starting from his own nation,
may his wishes have a higher aim. I cannot respect anyone who abandons
the soil of patriotism in order to waste his time on visionary schemes
in the domain of politics, to wax enthusiastic over universal peace and
to call all men brothers."

"And yet," said Edith, "this is the doctrine of Christianity."

"Of theoretical, not practical Christianity," eagerly rejoined the
Englishman. "I esteem the old Roman Cato, who took his life when he saw
his country's freedom disappearing, and England would never have grown
great had not many of her sons been Catos."

"Mr. Kennedy, you are proclaiming the old Greek idea of the state," said
Heideck. "But I do not believe that the old Greeks had such a
conception of the state as modern professors assert, and as ancient Rome
practically carried out. Professors are in the habit of quoting Plato,
but Plato was too highly gifted not to understand that the state after
all consists merely of men. Plato regarded the state not as an idol
on whose altar the citizen was obliged to sacrifice himself, but as an
educational institution. He says that really virtuous citizens could
only be reared by an intelligently organised state, and for this reason
he attached such importance to the state. A state is in its origin only
the outer form, which the inner life of the nation has naturally created
for itself, and this conception should not be upset. The state should
educate the masses, in order that not only justice, but also external
and internal prosperity may be realised. The Romans certainly do not
appear to have made the rearing of capable citizens, in accordance with
Plato's idea, the aim of the state; they were modern, like the great
Powers of to-day, whose aim it is to grow as rich and powerful as
possible. We Germans also desire this, and that is why we are waging
this war; but at the same time I assert that something higher dwells in
the German national character--the idea of humanity. With us also our
ideals are being destroyed, and therefore we are fighting for our 'place
under the sun,' in order to protect and secure our ideals together with
our national greatness."

At this point a servant entered and announced dinner.

At table the conversation shifted from philosophy and politics to art.
The ladies tried to cheer the old gentleman and banish his despair.
Elizabeth talked of the concerts in Simla and Calcutta, mentioning the
great technical difficulties which beset music in India, owing to the
instruments being so soon injured by the climate. The moist air of the
towns on the coast made the wood swell; the dry air of Central India, on
the other hand, made it shrink, which was very injurious to pianos, but
especially to violins and cellos. Pianos, with metal instead of wood
inside, were made for the tropics; but they had a shrill tone and were
equally affected by abrupt changes of temperature.

After dinner Elizabeth seated herself at the piano, and it did Heideck
good to find that Edith had a pleasant and well-trained alto voice. She
sang some melancholy English and Scotch songs.

"I have never sung since I left England," she said, greatly moved.

Heideck had listened to the music with rapture. After the fearful scenes
of recent times the melodies affected him so deeply that his eyes filled
with tears. It was not only the music that affected him, but Edith's
soul, which spoke through it.

"What are you thinking of doing, Mr. Kennedy?" he asked the old
gentleman. "Shall you remain in Simla and keep Mrs. Irwin with you?"

"I have thought it over," he replied. "I shall not stay here. I shall go
to Calcutta, if I can. It is my duty to be at my post there."

"But how do you intend to travel? The railways still in existence have
been seized for the exclusive use of the army. Remember that you would
have to pass both armies, the Russian and the English. You would have to
go from Kalka to Ambala, and thence to Delhi."

"If I could get a passport, I could travel post to Delhi, where I should
be with the English army. Can you get me a passport?"

"I will try. Possibly Prince Tchajawadse may be persuaded to let me have
one. I will point out to him that you are civilian officials."

. . . . . . .

Prince Tchajawadse most emphatically refused to make out the passport
for Mr. Kennedy and his family.

"I am very sorry, my friend," said he, "but it is simply impossible. The
Judge-Advocate-General is a very high official; I cannot allow him to go
to the English headquarters and give information as to what is going on
here. The authorities would justly put a very bad construction upon
such ill-timed amiability, and I should not like to obliterate the good
impression which the success of the expedition to Simla has made upon my
superiors by an unpardonable act of folly on my own part."

Heideck saw that any attempt at persuasion would be useless in the face
of the Prince's determination. He therefore acquainted Mr. Kennedy with
the failure of his efforts, at the same expressing his sincere regret.

"Then I shall try to return to England," said the old gentleman, with a
sigh. "Please ask the Prince if he has any objection to my making my way
by the shortest road to Karachi? Perhaps he will let me have a passport
for this route."

Prince Tchajawadse was quite ready to accede to this request.

"The ladies and gentlemen can travel where they please in the rear of
the Russian army, for all I care," he declared. "There is not the least
occasion for me to treat the worthy old gentleman as a prisoner."

On the same day Heideck had a serious conversation with Edith about her
immediate future. He inquired what her wishes and plans were, but she
clung to him tenderly and whispered, "My only wish is to stay with you,
my only plan is to make you happy."

Kissing her tender lips, which could utter such entrancing words, he
said, deeply moved: "Well, then, I propose that we travel together to
Karachi. I am resolved to quit the Russian service and endeavour to
return to Germany. But could you induce yourself to follow me to my
country, the land of your present enemies?"

"My home is with you. Suppose that we were to make a home here in Simla,
I should be ready, and only too glad to live here for the rest of my
life. Take me to Germany or Siberia, and I will follow you--it is all
the same to me, if only I am not obliged to leave you."

For a moment Heideck was pained to think that she had no word of
attachment for her country; but he had already learnt not to measure
her by the standard of the other women whom he had hitherto met on his
life's journey, and it ill became him to reproach her for this want of
patriotism.

"Mr. Kennedy has assured me that he is ready to take you under his
protection during the journey," said he. "I will speak to the Prince
again to-day, and, as he has no right to detain me, it will be possible
for me, as I confidently hope, to start with you for Karachi."

"But I shall only accept the Kennedys' offer if you go with us,"
declared Edith in a tone of decision, which left no doubt as to her
unshakable resolution.

As a matter of fact, Prince Tchajawadse put no difficulties in his way.

"I sincerely regret to lose you again so soon," he declared, "but it
is for you alone to decide whether you go or stay. It was arranged
beforehand that you could leave the Russian service as soon as it became
worth your while. Women are, after all, the controlling spirits of our
lives."

Of course the Prince had long since been aware that the Kennedys'
visitor was Edith Irwin, but this was the first time he had alluded to
his German friend's love affair.

As if he felt bound to defend himself against a humiliating reproach,
Heideck hastened to reply.

"You misunderstand my motives. It is my duty as a soldier which summons
me first of all. Hitherto I have had no prospect of getting a passage
on an English steamer. But, in the company of Mr. Kennedy, and on his
recommendation, I have hopes that it will not be refused me."

"Pardon me. I never for a moment doubted your patriotic sense of
duty, and I wish you from my heart a happy voyage home. Of course,
notwithstanding the alliance of our nations, it is not the same to you,
whether you fight in the ranks of the Russian or the German army. And if
the prospect of travelling in such pleasant society has finally decided
you, you have, in my opinion, no reason at all to be ashamed of it.
Certainly, for my own part, I am convinced that it is better, for
a soldier to make the female element play as subordinate a role as
possible in his life. He ought to do like most of my countrymen, and get
a wife who will not resent being thrashed, with or without cause. It may
be that I am mistaken on this point, and I have been severely punished
for it."

His countenance had suddenly become very grave, and as he could only be
alluding to his lost page, Heideck thought he might at last venture to
ask a question as to the whereabouts of the Circassian.

But the Prince shook his head deprecatingly.

"Do not ask me about her. It is a painful story, which I do not care to
mention, since it recalls one of the worst hours of my life. It is bad
enough that we poor, weak creatures cannot atone for the mistakes of a
moment."

Then, as if desirous of summarily cutting short an inconvenient
discussion, he returned to the original subject of conversation.

"From my point of view, for purely practical reasons I must regard it
as a mistake that you should so soon give up your career in the Russian
army, which has begun under the most favourable auspices. A brilliant
career is open to capable men of your stamp amongst us, for there is
more elbow-room in our army than in yours. But I know that it is useless
to say anything further about it. One word more! You need not at once
take off the uniform to which you do honour before you leave Simla.
To-morrow I am returning to Lahore, and during the march I beg you will
still remain at the head of your squadron. It will be safest for your
English friends to travel with our column. At Lahore you can do as
you please. Since the course of the campaign is in a south-easterly
direction, the west is free, and you may possibly be able to travel by
train for a considerable portion of the journey to Karachi."

In this proposal Heideck recognised a fresh proof of the friendly
disposition which the Prince had already so often shown towards him, and
he was not slow to thank him most heartily.

The idea of being obliged to travel under the enemy's protection was, of
course, not a very pleasant one to Mr. Kennedy; but in the interests
of the females who accompanied him he was bound to acquiesce in the
arrangement, since there was really no better chance of reaching Karachi
quickly and safely.

"You cannot imagine," he said to Heideck, "how hard it is for me to
leave India, so dearly purchased. I have devoted twenty years of my life
to it, years of hard, unremitting toil. And now my work, like that of so
many better men, is rendered useless at a single stroke."

"You have spent two whole decades in India without a break?"

"Yes; I could not make up my mind to accompany my wife and daughter on
their occasional visits to Europe for a few months' relaxation. I was
passionately fond of my work, and I can hardly get over the idea that
all is lost. And it IS lost; I am under no illusion as to that. After
the Russians have once set foot here, they will never give up the
country again. Their rule will be more firmly established than ours,
since they are at heart much closer to the Indians than we are."

. . . . . . .

On the following day they set out.

Mr. Kennedy and the ladies rode in a mail-coach drawn by four Australian
horses, which had been originally intended for driving to the Anandale
races. He had brought with him his own English coachman, an English
servant, and an English maid; he had paid off and discharged his
numerous Indian servants before starting.

The march proceeded by way of Kalka, the last station on the railway to
Simla, without any incidents, as far as Lahore. Here Prince Tchajawadse
was informed that the Russian army had started on the previous day
for Delhi, and that he was to follow as rapidly as possible with his
detachment.

During the entry into the streets of Lahore, the sight of which awoke in
him so many painful recollections, Heideck was suddenly roused from his
reverie. Behind the pillars supporting the balcony of a house he thought
he caught sight of the form of a woman, who followed with staring eyes
the march of the glittering, rattling troop of horsemen with their
clattering swords. Although her face was almost entirely hidden by
a veil, he felt instinctively that she was no other than his own and
Edith's preserver--the page Georgi. He turned his horse and rode up to
the house. But the vision disappeared as he drew near, as if the earth
had swallowed it up. He accordingly was driven to assume that it was
merely a delusion of his senses.

He took leave of Prince Tchajawadse with a heartiness corresponding to
their previous relations. The Prince embraced him several times, and his
eyes were moist as he again wished his comrade a prosperous journey
and the laurels of a victorious warrior. Nor was Heideck ashamed of his
emotion, when he clasped the Prince's hand for the last time.

"If you see your page again, please give him my own and Mrs. Irwin's
farewell greeting."

The Prince's face clouded over.

"I would do it with all my heart, my friend, but I shall never see my
page again. Let us speak of him no more. There are wounds of which a man
cannot feel proud."

With this they parted.

Heideck, who had resumed his civilian attire, slept at the hotel, and
then took the place Mr. Kennedy offered him in his carriage. He had
found out that the railway between Lahore and Mooltan from Montgomery
Station was still available for travelling.

The English, with their peculiar tenacity, still continued the regular
service in the parts of India that were not affected by the war. The
enormous extent of the country confined the struggle between the two
armies in some degree to a strictly limited area. In the west, the east,
and the interior of India there were few traces of the conflict. Only
the troop trains between Bombay and Calcutta revealed a state of war.

Since the retirement of the English army from Lahore, no more troops
were to be seen on the western railway, and this section was again
perfectly free for ordinary traffic.

Even the Indian population of this district showed no particular signs
of excitement. Only the actual presence of the Russian troops had
disturbed the patient and peaceful people. The travellers even passed
through Chanidigot without any interruption of their occupations or
meeting with any unexpected delay.

The weather was not too hot; the stormy season had begun, and travelling
in the roomy, comfortable railway carriages would have been in other
circumstances a real pleasure.

The travellers safely reached Karachi, the seaport town on the mouths
of the Indus with its numerous tributaries, where Mr. Kennedy's high
position procured them admission to the select Sind Club, where the
attendance and lodging were all that could be desired. The club was
almost entirely deserted by its regular visitors, since, in addition to
the officers, all officials who could be dispensed with had joined the
army. But neither the Kennedys nor Edith and Heideck had any taste for
interesting society. Their only wish was to leave the country as soon
as possible, and to see the end of the present painful condition of
affairs. As the result of inquiries at the shipping agency, they had
decided to travel to Bombay by one of the steamers of the British India
Company, and to proceed thence to Europe by the Caledonia, the best
vessel belonging to the P. and O. line.

In the afternoon, before going on board, Heideck hired a comfortable
little one-horsed carriage and drove to Napier mole, where an elegant
sailing-boat, manned by four lascars, was placed at their disposal at
the Sind Club boathouse. They sailed through the harbour protected by
three powerful forts, past Manora Point, the furthest extremity of the
fortified mole, into the Arabian Sea.

"Really, it is hard to leave this wonderful land," said Heideck
seriously. "It is hard to take leave for ever of this brilliant sun,
this glittering sea, and these mighty works of men's hands, which have
introduced luxury and the comforts of a refined civilisation into a
natural paradise. I have never understood Mr. Kennedy's sorrow better
than at this moment. And I can sympathise with the feeling of bitterness
which makes him shut himself up in his room, to avoid the further sight
of all this enchanting and splendid magnificence."

Edith, clinging to his arm and looking up fondly into his face only
answered, "I only see the world as it is reflected in your eyes. And
there its beauty is always the same to me."




XXII

THE ETHICS OF ESPIONAGE


The steamer from Karachi to Bombay had about twenty officers and a
larger number of noncommissioned officers and men on board who had been
wounded in the first engagements on the frontier. The sight of them was
not calculated to relieve the gloomy feelings of the English travellers,
although during the three days of the voyage the weather was magnificent
as they proceeded through the bright, blue sea along the west coast of
India, so lavishly supplied with the beauties of Nature.

The harbour of Bombay, one of the most beautiful in the world, presented
a singularly altered appearance to those who had seen it on previous
visits. There was a complete absence of the French, German, and Russian
merchantmen, which usually lay at anchor in considerable numbers;
besides English steamers there were only a few Italian and Austrian
vessels in the roadstead.

The steamer from Karachi cast anchor not far from the Austrian Lloyd
steamer Imperatrix, from Trieste, and the passengers were taken from the
Apollo Bandar in small boats to the landing-stage.

Heideck took up his quarters with his new English friends at the
Esplanade Hotel. The admirably conducted house was well known to him,
since he had stayed there a few days on his arrival in India. But the
appearance of the hotel had altered during the interval as completely as
that of the European quarter of the city, from which all life seemed to
have disappeared. The ravages of the plague might have had something to
do with it, but the main cause was the war, which made its presence felt
in the absence of various elements of life which at other times were
especially remarkable.

Formerly the meeting-place of fashionable society, nearly all its guests
at the present time were connected with the army; the few ladies were in
mourning, and an oppressive silence prevailed during meals.

Mr. Kennedy, immediately on his arrival, had paid a visit to the
Governor in Heideck's interest and returned with good news. He
had obtained permission for the young German to leave India by the
Caledonia, which was starting in a few days with a considerable number
of sick and wounded officers. The route to be taken was the usual one by
Aden and Port Said. Those passengers who intended to travel further by
the railway would be landed at Brindisi, the destination of the steamer
being Southampton.

"So we shall have the pleasure of your company as far as Brindisi,"
said Mr. Kennedy, turning to Heideck. The latter bowed, to show the old
gentleman that he had interpreted his intentions correctly.

An expression of violent alarm overspread Edith's face, when the
contradiction which she might assuredly have expected did not follow.
She got up to go to her room, but, passing close by Heideck, she found
an opportunity to whisper, "To-night on the balcony! I must speak to
you!"

After dinner Heideck and Mr. Kennedy sat smoking on the terrace in front
of the dining-room. A warm sea-breeze rustled through the banyan trees,
with their thick, shining arch of foliage. Heideck again thanked the old
gentleman for his kindly efforts on his behalf.

"I have only repaid to a very moderate extent all you have done for us,"
replied Mr. Kennedy. "Besides, there was no difficulty in the matter. I
told the Governor that you were a German and a friend of my family,
who had rendered most valuable service to an English lady and myself.
Certainly, I thought that I might with a good conscience say nothing
about your being a soldier, which might easily have caused all kinds
of difficulties. With all my patriotism, I do not reproach myself
very severely for this reticence. For what military secrets could you
disclose in Berlin? Our disasters are plain for all to see, and the
papers are filled with news and conjectures."

"Certainly. The real purpose of my journey has been overtaken by events
and rendered pointless."

"And this object--if I may speak without mincing words--was espionage.
Is not that the case, Mr. Heideck?"

"Espionage in the same sense that the despatch of ambassadors, ministers
plenipotentiary, and military or naval attaches is espionage," replied
Heideck, visibly annoyed.

"Oh, I think there is a slight difference in their case. All these
gentlemen's names and duties are known beforehand, and they are
expressly accredited in their character of diplomatists."

"Mr. Kennedy, I could never think of justifying myself to you, for I
have not the least reason to be ashamed of my mission. The military
authorities of every country must have information as to the military
condition of other powers, even though war is not definitely expected or
contemplated. In order to be equipped against all eventualities, it is
necessary to know the forces and resources of other powers, no matter
whether, in case of war, they would be enemies or allies."

Mr. Kennedy, evidently irritated, replied: "It almost seems as if we
English had grossly neglected this precaution. The Russians would
hardly have surprised us, if we had known how to calculate with German
astuteness."

"Well, I hardly believe that the English method in this respect is
different from ours. Your Government, like the German, doubtless sent
officers everywhere to obtain information. Just as the General Staff in
Berlin collects information about all foreign armies, fortifications,
and boundaries, I have no doubt that the same thing happens in London.
Besides, it is a purely theoretical procedure, just like the drawing up
of schemes of war to suit all cases. In reality, things usually turn
out quite differently from what is expected. The present war is the most
convincing proof of this. I was sent here to study the Anglo-Indian army
and the Russo-Indian frontiers, although we had no presentiment that war
was imminent, and had made no plans for attacking India. The folly
of such an idea is obvious. Further, if you regard me as a spy, Mr.
Kennedy, I beg you will have no scruple about informing the Governor of
my real character. I am ready at any time to justify myself before the
English authorities."

Mr. Kennedy held out his hand to him.

"You have misunderstood me, my dear Mr. Heideck. Your personal honour is
to me so far beyond all doubt, that I should never think for a moment
of putting you on a level with those spies who are tried for their lives
when caught."

At this moment one of the barefooted waiters, dressed in white, came
running and shouting into the saloon, "Great victory near Delhi! total
defeat of the Russian army!" at the same time triumphantly waving a
printed paper in his hand.

Mr. Kennedy jumped up, tore the paper from the boy's hand, and read the
news given out by the Bombay Gazette.

"Yes, it is true," he cried, his face beaming with joy. "A victory,
a great, decisive victory! Heaven be thanked--the fortune of war has
changed."

He gave the bearer of the joyful news a piece of gold and hastened
to inform the ladies. Heideck, however, remained behind, immersed in
thought. The hotel soon became lively. The English ran here and there,
shouting to one another the contents of the despatch, while a growing
excitement gradually showed itself in the streets. In the so-called
fort, the European quarter of Bombay, torches were lighted and
feux-de-joie fired. Heideck took one of the traps standing in front
of the hotel and ordered the driver to drive through the town. Here he
observed that the rejoicings were confined to the fort. As soon as the
conveyance reached the town proper, he found that it presented the same
appearance as on his first visit, and that there was nothing to show
or indicate the occurrence of extraordinary events. In spite of the
lateness of the hour, the narrow streets were busy and full of traffic.
All the houses were lighted up, and all the doors open, affording a
view of the interior of the primitive dwellings, of the artisans busy
at their work, of the dealers plying their trade, of the housewives
occupied with their domestic affairs. Evidently the inhabitants troubled
no more about the war than about the terrible scourge of the Indian
population--the plague. The despatch announcing the victory, although
no doubt it was known in the native quarter, had evidently not made the
slightest impression.