Part 5

“But you were prepared for it?”

“By God we were. I had seen to that.”

“Then you were prepared to join issue in any quarrel that might be sought?”

“We pledged our word to the Grossians and the Bilgians. Besides, sir, apart from all that, the Fatters are jealous of our Empire, and they have deliberately plotted for years to oust us commercially and politically. They want us wiped off the map. But when it comes to wiping----”

“Does it ever come to that?” asked Siebenhaar. “Is Athens dead while Plato lives? Is Rome forgotten while Virgil and Lucretius live in the minds of men? Was there ever more in Spain than lives in Cervantes?”

“I don’t know about that,” said the Lord High Chief; “but the Fatters want to dominate the world.”

“So did Alexander: so did Napoleon: but they wrought their own ruin.”

“This is too deep for me,” replied the politician. “I want something that the newspapers can get hold of. I want to know what you are up to, how you found the island, how it came to move again, and, if it isn’t a miracle of loyalty, what is it? Also I want to know what your intentions are, because if you are not here to support us we shall have to place you both under arrest,--er--that is, after you have moved the island out of harm’s way.”

Ultimus took Siebenhaar aside and said: “I want to go away. I have been looking at the woman, and I think she is horrible.”

X: THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN

The Lord High Chief towards the end of the interview adopted a peremptory tone and ordered the island to be taken through the enemy’s minefield and then to blockade the enemy’s fleet. The island was to be called H.M.S. Samways, to be manned with the crew of a first-class battleship and commanded by a senior admiral. Ultimus refused point-blank. He owed nothing to Fatland, and was not going to have his island or his inventions used in a cause which he as yet did not understand. The Lord High Chief stormed and blustered until Siebenhaar told him the truth about Bich’s battle and the nature of the invention of which Ultimus had spoken. The Lord High Chief went pale and muttered that he should have thought his country’s cause good enough for any man. However, since they were so obstinate, he invited the islanders ashore and undertook to satisfy their curiosity with regard to the war, or the events which immediately preceded it. Arabella’s sister proposed that they should stay in her house, but her invitation was refused.

No sooner had the visitors put off in the launch than Ultimus moved the island further up the river until all channels were blocked and no ship could get either in or out.

“Now,” said Ultimus, “they will treat me with respect, and will not rest content until they have satisfied me and persuaded me to move the island once more.”

The effect he desired was produced. They were taken up to Bondon in one of the Royal motor-cars, and a whole floor in one of the most expensive hotels was placed at their disposal. For the first time in his life Ultimus slept in a bed and was so hot that he could not bear it. He rang the bell in the middle of the night and a little chambermaid appeared.

“Take that thing away,” said Ultimus.

The little chambermaid stared at him.

“I don’t want it. I don’t like it,” he said, glowering at the girl’s face. It was like a flower, like a star; it was beautiful. Ultimus could not take his eyes off it. Her eyes smiled back at his amazed curiosity. He stood and reeled and said:

“I love you.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the little chambermaid.

“My father said the Fattish were false. I asked them to send me the most beautiful woman in the land and they sent me a hideous old creature.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ah! Why did they not send you? We could have gone away at once, away, away, where there are no old women, no battleships, no beds.”

The little chambermaid by this time was fascinated, and she stayed with Ultimus all night, while he talked and told her how he had desired to see a woman and was now satisfied and never wished to see another, and how when he had seen the war he and she would retire to the island.

“Oh, sir,” said the little chambermaid. “And shall I be a Queen? And won’t the Fatters ever be able to get near the island? They all say the Fatters do awful things to women.”

Ultimus took her to his breast and they were joined in the mystical union of a kiss; and for many hours no word passed between them.

In the morning they were disturbed by Siebenhaar, who came in unsuspectingly, saw what had happened and withdrew discreetly, gave orders to the management that Mr. Samways was not to be disturbed, and went out to see Bondon in war-time.

XI: HIGH POLITICS

The streets were full of young men in uniform. In the parks were young men without uniform being drilled. Except for policemen, hall-porters, street-scavengers, the town was empty, and when Siebenhaar asked a policeman why it was so, he was informed that everybody had gone to look at the island.

Said the constable: “There was nothing like it since I was a boy, when the war began.”

Siebenhaar was taken aback.

“How long?” he said.

“Well! It’ll be a matter of fifteen years now, though it’s difficult to remember. It goes on. Things get quiet in the winter. Then it begins again with the fine weather, with a new list of Fatter atrocities. Then there’s a new promise from the Emperor of Grossia; then we have another rally of the Empire and things become livelier.”

“I am astonished,” said Siebenhaar, “that a great free nation like the Fattish should tolerate such a state of affairs.”

“Bless you,” said the policeman, “I’ve forgotten what peace was like. There’s a few old gentlemen hold meetings to talk about it, but we’re used to it by now. I remember there used to be scares about our being invaded, but they soon came to an end. We all take our spell at the fighting, and, if we come home, settle down to work of one sort or another. There’s no doubt about it, the Fatters would make a nasty mess of things if we didn’t keep them bottled up.”

Siebenhaar protested: “Surely you yourselves are making a nasty mess of things?”

“Oh!” replied the policeman. “That’s over the water. You soon forget about it when you get back home. It would be funny, sir, if that there island were to put a stop to the war. We’d hardly know what to do with our young men.”

Siebenhaar’s blood boiled. A great nation, with a tradition of freedom, could acquiesce in such arrest of its life, such wanton sacrifice of its youth!

He visited the Lord High Chief and found him just out of his bed in a suit of blue silk pajamas. Breakfast was laid before him and he offered Siebenhaar coffee. It was refused.

“I am come, sir, to tell you that the island will not be used to assist you. It will be used to stop the war.”

“Stop the----?”

“As I say.”

“Come, come, sir. The war cannot be stopped until all parties to it agree to our terms of settlement. It is a matter of high politics, which it takes an expert to understand. We have the matter well in hand. The country was told at the beginning that it was to be a long war. It will be finished when our terms are agreed upon and not before.”

“And those terms are----?”

“They are known to my colleagues and myself. When the settlement is concluded they will be laid before the country.”

“And have you, sir, during the last fifteen years ever risked your life on land or sea? Have you suffered in pocket or in health? Have you been deprived of even a luxury?”

“For fifteen years I have been the hardest worked man in the country. I have practically lived in this office. When things were going badly with us I made speeches up and down the country.”

“Asking young men to give their lives and thank God for the privilege of dying before they had tasted the full sweetness of life.”

“It is their country’s life against theirs.”

“You say so.”

“The Fatters will make an end of us if they don’t.”

“Have you made an end of the Fatters?”

“No. But we will before we have done.”

“Are the Fatter women all stricken with barrenness?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then you cannot make an end of the race.”

“We can smash their Empire.”

“A word. Can you smash a word? You seem to me, sir, to talk and act as though a nation were an abstraction instead of a collection of human beings, bound together by language, manners, and religion.”

“It is a matter of high politics.”

“It seems to me, sir, that war is the logical outcome of your view of national life, and that a nation without a war is not a nation. I should imagine that a war greatly facilitates the task of government. The rich can always be trusted to look after themselves, but the poor are rendered impotent. I cannot raise a hand to support either such a view or such a condition. You have attained the ideal of high politics, the sacrifice of domestic affairs to international relations. I congratulate you. I decline all further hospitality at your hands. My young friend has already realized one of his ambitions. I shall request the Emperor of Fatterland to satisfy the other. We shall go to Fatterland to-morrow and see the war which you have been able to confine to other countries.”

“Herr Siebenhaar,” shouted the Lord High Chief, “you shall do no such thing. The public has taken the island to its heart. You will consider yourself under arrest.”

Siebenhaar smiled sweetly:

“I have seen the Fattish public take Mr. George Samways to its heart and I have seen it reject him. I do not think you will arrest me, for, before leaving the island we arranged an explosion to take place two days from now in case of our non-return. Such an explosion would project thousands of tons of rock over your city.”

XII: THE PUBLIC

Ultimus refused to be separated from the lady of his choice, and when Siebenhaar said he must return to the island the little chambermaid declared her willingness to go if she could be married first.

“You need not worry about that,” grumbled Siebenhaar. “There will be no other women on the island, no one to care whether you are married or no, no one to bully you if you have dispensed with the ceremony, and Ultimus has no relations except his aunt, who will never forgive him for his frankness. I warn you that on our island you will find none of the excitements of the great hotel, neither the advantages of society nor its disadvantages.”

“I will come,” said the little chambermaid, “if you will let me tell my mother that I am married. It would kill her if she thought I was not.”

“A lie more or less in a community is no great matter, since its existence depends upon lies,” said Siebenhaar.

So the chambermaid wrote to her mother, packed her belongings in her tin box, and with Siebenhaar and Ultimus was driven in the royal motor-car to the docks. The last few miles they drove through enormous cheering crowds, men, women, and children, singing as they went.

“Won’t I kiss you when you come back home, My soldier boy! For my heart is with you as you cross the foam, My soldier boy! You are big and you are brave, From the Huns our homes to save, Or to find a hero’s grave. Won’t I kiss you when you come back home!”

A motor launch took them swiftly out to the island and there Ultimus was proud to show the little house he had built and the gardens he had made.

In the afternoon they went up to the top of the mountain, where an amazing sight met their eyes. Through the smoke loomed the towers and domes and chimneys of the great city, and on the banks of the river for miles stretched the crowds of people, and others came along the roads, pouring in on foot, in carts, and wagons. Ultimus was seized with nausea, which soon gave place to rage and he stamped his foot on the ground and cried:

“There are too many of them. Let me destroy them.”

But Siebenhaar wept and said:

“Rather destroy those heartless men who herd them like cattle and rob them of the fruits of their labour and bid them believe in a God whom they deny, a national idea which they can maintain only by the destruction of life and the ruin of the nation. Destroy those who sacrifice beauty to their pleasures, and love to their obstinate pride. See, the city must be empty now, destroy it.”

Ultimus moved his hand and in one moment the domes, towers and chimneys of the city disappeared. The island moved and the crowd, seeing that which they had come to see, clapped their hands and shouted until the island disappeared.

XIII: THE EMPEROR

In a few hours they were off the coast of Fatterland, and had blocked up the harbour where the Fatter fleet lay in hiding from the overwhelming superiority of the Fattish. The Emperor himself, who had already heard of the destruction of Bondon, came out to greet them. He had information as to Siebenhaar’s previous career and he decorated him at sight with a Silver Eagle. To Ultimus he handed an Iron Cross.

The Emperor was dressed in a large brass helmet, a white suit with a steel cuirass, and enormous shining boots. He was a little man and very pompous.

“God,” he said, “has blessed you.”

“How do you know?” asked Siebenhaar.

“God,” said the Emperor, “has preserved the Fatterland, through me.”

“On this island,” retorted Siebenhaar, “we are accustomed to talk sense. There would have been no need for God or anybody else to defend Fatterland if you had not so wantonly destroyed peaceful relations with other countries.”

The Emperor removed his helmet.

“What a relief!” he said. “No one has ever talked sensibly to me before. You don’t know how sick I am of being an Emperor with everybody assuming that I don’t wish to think of anything but my own dignity. I am not allowed to think or talk of anything else.”

“Has it ever occurred to you,” asked Siebenhaar, “that a dignity which requires over a million soldiers to maintain it is hardly worth it? Have you ever thought that the million soldiers are maintained not for your dignity, but because their housing, their feeding, their equipment are all exceedingly profitable to a few men?”

“I have often thought that,” replied the Emperor, “but I have never found a soul willing to discuss it with me. When I meet other Emperors the same dreadful thought haunts all of us, but none of us dare speak of it, for we are watched night and day, and what we are to say to each other is written by young men in the Government Offices.”

The Emperor began to cry.

“Four million men have been killed since the war began, and everybody says it is my fault. I didn’t make the war, I didn’t, indeed I didn’t. It was not in my power to make war, any more than it is in my power to stop it. Horrible things have been done by the soldiers.”

“Poor wretches!” said Siebenhaar. “How can they be anything but bestial, deprived as they are of all that makes life sweet?”

“How, indeed?” asked the Emperor. “Thousands have died of dysentery, or cholera, and enteric and typhoid. Hundreds of thousands more of starvation and exposure. It is impossible, I tell you, impossible to prevent organisation breaking down. Contractors!” He shook his fists. “Ah! There is nothing contractors will not do, from sending bad food to insisting on being paid for food they have never sent. Ah! the villains! the villains! And to think that my name is being execrated throughout the world.”

The Emperor looked about him uneasily.

“And now, Herr Siebenhaar, what am I to tell them on my return? That your marvellous island is the gift of God to the Fatter people?”

“Say nothing,” replied Siebenhaar, “except that Mr. Ultimus Samways wishes to see the war. We are neutral territory. If we have damaged Bondon we have in coming here cleared your minefields and we propose to keep your fleet bottled up and shall destroy it unless Mr. Samways returns in safety within a week.”

“We have had a delightful talk and it has been refreshing to me to discover a philosopher who is greater than an Emperor.”

Siebenhaar laughed and said he looked forward to the day when capitalists and contractors discovered that the world contained a power greater than their own.

“I also,” said the Emperor, “possess an island. I shall be happy when the war is over and I can retire to it and live in peace and devote myself to the delightful and harmless pursuit of painting bad pictures.”

He promised that an airship should be sent for Ultimus, and said good-bye cordially and regretfully. As he put his helmet on he said:

“I have to wear this infernal thing, though it always gives me a headache.”

“Now,” said Siebenhaar to Ultimus, “you have seen the unhappy individual who is called the man-eater of Europe.”

“Was that the Emperor?” asked the chambermaid. “Why, they told me he had a tail and always walked about with bleeding baby’s legs in his hands!”

XIV: WAR

The airship was a great delight to the inventive genius of Ultimus. He had it brought to earth on the shore and examined the engines and propellers, and its ingenious steering apparatus. The officer in charge of it was discreet and silent, a stiff martial gentleman whose intelligence and humanity were completely hidden by his uniform. He had brought a declaration to be signed by Ultimus, saying that he was a non-belligerent and did not represent any newspaper. For Siebenhaar he had brought a bundle of newspapers of every country so that he might read what the nations were saying of each other.

At last Ultimus’ curiosity was satisfied, and he stepped into the observation car, the engines started purring and the great fish-shaped balloon rose into the air.

Ultimus was surprised to see how little his island was and when they passed over into Fatterland he cried:

“Why, there is room for everybody! How wrong I was to hate the Fattish for being so many! Why do not some of them come and live here if there is no room for them on their island?”

“They’d have a warm time of it if they did,” said the officer.

“Why? Don’t you like the Fattish?”

“They are pirates and thieves. They are jealous of our honest commercial success. They and they only are responsible for this war. They have set half the nations of Europe to attack us, but they attack in vain. We are glorious warriors, but they are only commercial travellers.”

“In Fatland,” replied Ultimus, “they say that they are glorious warriors, but you are only machines. And they say that you are jealous of their Empire, and for years have been planning to destroy their fleet.”

“What nonsense!” said the officer.

They had been thousands of feet in the air, often above the clouds.

“We are approaching the western frontier.”

They descended. A booming and roaring came up and a queer crackling sound. There were flashes of light and puffs of smoke, but nowhere were there signs of any men save far, far away on the roads behind the lines of smoke and flashes of light.

“That,” said the officer, “is the war.”

“But where are the men who are doing it?”

The officer pointed to black zigzag parallel lines in the ground.

“They are there. Those are trenches. They are impregnable. Years ago, at the beginning of the war there was some barbarous fighting with bayonets, but since we took up those positions there is nothing but what you see. Each year makes those positions stronger, nothing can move the armies from them. While the war lasts, they will be held. Is it not splendid? It is just the same on the eastern frontier, though the line there is a hundred miles longer. Ah! It is the greatest war the world has ever seen.”

They came lower until they could see into the trenches. There were men playing cards, others sleeping; another was vomiting. Another was buttoning up his trousers when his head was blown off. His body stood for a moment with his hand fumbling at his buttons. Then it collapsed ridiculously. One of the men who was playing wiped a card on his breeches and then played it. Another man went mad, climbed out of the trenches and rushed screeching in the direction whence the missile had come.

“I have seen enough,” said Ultimus. “Why do they go there?”

“Because if they did not Fatterland would be overrun with the savages hired by the Fattish.”

“Would that be worse?”

“It would not last so long,” replied the officer, “but we should have lost our honour as a nation.”

“That,” said Ultimus, “is exactly how the most beautiful woman in Fatland talks. What is this honour?”

“It is holy,” said the officer with so fatuously fervent an expression that Ultimus laughed.

“Does your Highness wish to see the eastern frontier?”

“No, thank you. That is enough.”

The airship soared up. It was now night. The stars came out and Ultimus mused:

“Out of all the planets why should this be tortured with the life of men? Is it their vast numbers that drive them mad? Or are they so vile that war is their normal condition and peace only a rest from it?”

For the first time Ultimus responded to the beauty of the world. They flew low over mountains, and great rivers and wide valleys. The variety of it all entranced him, accustomed as he was to the monotony of the sea and the narrow limitations of the island. Apart from the horror of war it was amazing to him that men should desert such loveliness to spend their days in holes dug in the ground.

XV: SIEBENHAAR ON SOCIETY

Meanwhile on the island the philosopher and the chambermaid lived through difficult hours. The girl wept without ceasing and said if she had known how dull it was going to be she never would have come. Remembering Arabella’s dissatisfaction, Siebenhaar said:

“Women have no resources within themselves. They take life too seriously. It is never amusing to them. Society is organised for their protection and amusement and they take no interest in it, and let men, who are only worried or irritated by it, bring it to ruin without a protest. Women are the criminals who are responsible for everything, for they encourage men in their vanity and weaken them in their power. They desire safety, and detest originality, intellect, imagination.”

The chambermaid sobbed: “I thought it was going to be fun to be a Queen, but there is no fun in reigning over sticks and stones.”

“Women,” said Siebenhaar, “want their lovers and their babies and their fun. When they have to choose between the three, they choose their fun. No. They are not the criminals; it is men who are that for letting them have their fun to keep them quiet. Oh! Ultimus, that was a true instinct of yours to destroy them in their thousands!”

XVI: PRACTICAL CONSIDERATIONS

Ultimus was gone exactly a week, during which time he saw all the preparations for the war, the countless widows and orphans created by it, the stoppage of other business, the immense activity at arsenals, boot factories, and cloth mills, and chemical laboratories, the soup kitchens for the starving, among whom he was horrified to see thousands of men who had returned maimed from the trenches. What perhaps appalled him most was the gaiety of the children.

He mentioned this to Siebenhaar on his return. The philosopher said:

“They have been born since the war began and do not conceive of life being otherwise.”