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The Floating Press - Hall Caine

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73 pages

English

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In his career as a newspaper reporter, British author Hall Caine often traveled to engage in on-the-ground documentation of important world events. His experiences on the battlefields of World War I were documented in a breathtaking series of articles that are reproduced in this volume.

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Histoire

Military history

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 octobre 2016
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776673131
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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THE DRAMA OF THREE HUNDRED & SIXTY-FIVE DAYS
SCENES IN THE GREAT WAR
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HALL CAINE

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The Drama of Three Hundred & Sixty-Five Days Scenes in the Great War First published in 1915 Epub ISBN 978-1-77667-313-1 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77667-314-8 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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The Invisible Conflict Pen-Portrait of the Kaiser Pen-Portrait of the Crown Prince Some Salutary Lessons Pen-Portrait of the Archduke Ferdinand One of the Oldest, Feeblest, and Least Capable of Men "Good God, Man, Do You Mean to Say.." A German High Priest of Peace "We Shall Never Massacre Belgian Women" The Old German Adam A Conversation with Lord Roberts "We'll Fight and Fight Soon" "He Knows, Doesn't He?" We Believed It The Falling of the Thunderbolt The Part Chance Played "Why Isn't the House Cheering?" The Night of Our Ultimatum The Thunderstroke of Fate The Morning After "Your King and Country Need You" The Part Played by the British Navy The Part Played by Belgium What King Albert Did for Kingship "Why Shouldn't They, Since They Were Englishmen?" "But Liberty Must Go on, and... England" The Part Played by France The Soul of France The Motherhood of France Five Months After The Coming of Winter Christmas in the Trenches The Coming of Spring Nature Goes Her Own Way The Soul of the Man Who Sank the Lusitania The German Tower of Babel The Alien Peril Hymns of Hate The Part Played by Russia The Shadow of the Great Death The Russian Soul The Russian Moujik Mobilizing How the Russians Make War The Part Played by Poland The Soul of Poland The Old Soldier of Liberty The Part Played by Italy How the War Entered Italy The Italian Soul The Part Played by the Neutral Nations The Part Played by the United States The Thunderclap that Fell on England A Glimpse Op the King's Son The Part Played by Woman The Word of Woman The New Scarlet Letter And... After? War's Spiritual Compensations Let Us Pray for Victory Endnotes
The Invisible Conflict
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Mr. Maeterlinck has lately propounded the theory [1] that what we callthe war is neither more nor less than the visible expression of a vastinvisible conflict. The unseen forces of good and evil in the universeare using man as a means of contention. On the result of the strugglethe destiny of humanity on this planet depends. Is the Angel to prevail?Or is the Beast to prolong his malignant existence? The issue hangs onFate, which does not, however, deny the exercise of the will of man.Mystical and even fantastic as the theory may seem to be, there is noresisting its appeal. A glance back over the events of the past yearleaves us again and again without clue to cause and effect. It isimpossible to account for so many things that have happened. We cannotalways say, "We did this because of that," or "Our enemies did thatbecause of the other." Time after time we can find no reason why thingshappened as they have—so unaccountable and so contradictory have theyseemed to be. The dark work wrought by Death during the past year hasbeen done in the blackness of a night in which none can read. Hencesome of us are forced to yield to Mr. Maeterlinck's theory, which is, Ithink, the theory of the ancients—the theory on which the Greeksbuilt their plays—that invisible powers of good and evil, operatingin regions that are above and beyond man's control, are working out hisdestiny in this monstrous drama of the war.
And what a drama it has been already! We had witnessed only 365 days ofit down to August 4, 1915, corresponding at the utmost to perhaps threeof its tragic acts, but what scenes, what emotions! Mr. Lowell usedto say that to read Carlyle's book on the French Revolution was tosee history as by flashes of lightning. It is only as by flashes oflightning that we can yet hope to see the world-drama of 1914-15.Figures, groups, incidents, episodes, without the connecting linksof plots, and just as they have been thrown off by Time, themaster-producer—what a spectacle they make, what a medley of motives,what a confused jumble of sincerities and hypocrisies, heroisms andbrutalities, villainies and virtues!
As happens in every drama, a great deal of the tragic mischief hadoccurred before the curtain rose. Always before the passage of war overthe world there comes the far-off murmur of its approaching wings. Eachof us in this case had heard it, distinctly or indistinctly, accordingto the accidents of personal experience. I think I myself heard it forthe first time dearly when in the closing year of King Edward's reign Icame to know (it is unnecessary to say how) what our Sovereign's feelinghad been about his last visit to Berlin. It can do no harm now tosay that it had been a feeling of intense anxiety. The visit seemednecessary, even imperative, there-fore the King would not shirk hisduty. But for his country, as well as for himself, he had feared for hisreception in Germany, and on his arrival in Berlin, and during his drivefrom the railway station with the Kaiser, he had watched and listenedto the demonstrations in the streets with an emotion which very nearlyamounted to dread.
The result had brought a certain relief. With the best of all possibleintentions, the newspapers in both capitals had reported that KingEdward's reception had been enthusiastic. It hadn't been that—at least,it hadn't seemed to be that to the persons chiefly concerned. But it hadbeen just cordial enough not to be chilling, just warm enough to carrythings off, to drown that far-off murmur of war which was like theapproach of a mighty wind. Then, during the next days, there had beenthe usual banqueting, with the customary toasting to the amity of thetwo great nations, whose interests were so closely united by bonds ofpeace! And then the return drive to the railway station, the clatter ofhorsemen in shining armour, the adieux, the throbbing of the engine,the starting of the train, and then.... "Thank God, it's over!" If theinvisible powers had really been struggling over the destiny of men, howthe evil half of them must have shrieked with delight that day as theKaiser rode back to Potsdam and our King returned to London!
Pen-Portrait of the Kaiser
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Other whisperings there were of the storm that was so soon to burst onthe world. In the ominous silence there were rumours of a certain changethat was coming over the spirit of the Kaiser. For long years he hadbeen credited with a sincere love of peace, and a ceaseless desireto restrain the forces about him that were making for war. Althoughconstantly occupied with the making of a big army, and inspiring it withgreat ideals, he was thought to have as little desire for actual warfareas his ancestor, Frederick William, had shown, while gathering up hisgiant guardsmen and refusing to allow them to fight. Particularly it wasbelieved in Berlin (not altogether graciously) that his affection for,and even fear of his grandmother, Queen Victoria, would compel him toexhaust all efforts to preserve peace in the event of trouble with GreatBritain. But Victoria was dead, and King Edward might perhaps be smiledat—behind his back—and then a younger generation was knocking at theKaiser's door in the person of his eldest son, who represented forceswhich he might not long be able to hold in check. How would he act now?
Thousands of persons in this country had countless opportunities beforethe war of forming an estimate of the Kaiser's character. I had onlyone, and it was not of the best. For years the English travellerabroad felt as if he were always following in the track of a grandiosepersonality who was playing on the scene of the world as on a stage,fond as an actor of dressing up in fine uniforms, of making pictures,scenes, and impressions, and leaving his visible mark behind him—as inthe case of the huge gap in the thick walls of Jerusalem, torn down (itwas said with his consent) to let his equipage pass through.
In Rome I saw a man who was a true son of his ancestors. Never hadthe laws of heredity better justified themselves. Frederick William,Frederick the Great, William the First—the Hohenzollerns were allthere. The glittering eyes, the withered arm, the features that gavesigns of frightful periodical pain, the immense energy, the giganticegotism, the ravenous vanity, the fanaticism amounting to frenzy, thedominating power, the dictatorial temper, the indifference to suffering(whether his own or other people's), the overbearing suppression ofopposing opinions, the determination to control everybody's interest,everybody's work—I thought all this was written in the Kaiser'smasterful face. Then came stories. One of my friends in Rome was anAmerican doctor who had been called to attend a lady of the Emperor'shousehold. "Well, doctor, what's she suffering from?" said the Kaiser.The doctor told him. "Nothing of the kind—you're entirely wrong. She'ssuffering from so and so," said the Majesty of Germany, stamping up anddown the room. At length the American doctor lost control. "Sir," hesaid, "in my country we have a saying that one bad practitioner is worthtwenty good amateurs—you're the amateur." The doctor lived throughit. Frederick William would have dragged him to the window and tried tofling him out of it. William II put his arm round the doctor's shoulderand said, "I didn't mean to hurt you, old fellow. Let us sit down andtalk."
A soldier came with another story. After a sham fight conducted by theKaiser the generals of the Ge