VI: BICH IS OBSTINATE
The point was argued for many days. Bich would not withdraw from his assertion that it was glorious to die for his country, but at the same time he could not disguise his distress at having done so.
“If I had died,” he said, “it would have been glorious.”
“Only in the eyes of your countrymen,” said Siebenhaar. “You already have that, and if you had died you would not have known anything about it.”
“There is a heaven above,” cried Bich.
“Which you could never have entered. Has not Heaven enjoined you not to kill and not to resist evil?”
“In the service of my country!”
“What does heaven know of your country? Heaven is eternal. Its laws are for eternity. Your country, your Empire are mere temporary arrangements for the convenience of a few millions of men and women who wish to profit by the labours of people less fortunate than themselves. You are therefore contending that it is glorious to die for a man’s material advantage, or, in other words, for political and financial vested interests.”
“I am prepared at any moment to die for my country.”
“You have died.”
“I have not.”
“You have died and been given the glory attaching to such death.”
“That is what I cannot bear.”
“Then,” said Ultimus, “I will give you a root which will procure you a perfectly painless death. I see that you do not mind dying for your country so long as you do not know about it.”
“And that,” put in Siebenhaar, “is where he is consistent. He is like all the men of his time and condition; he does not mind living, in fact he quite likes it, so long as he knows nothing about it and is not called upon to realise what he is doing. When he is faced with the consequences of such insensibility he is so appalled that he welcomes the idea of death, if he can find some excuse for it. Therefore he has invented a myth called his country and proposes to die for that. According to his prejudices it is cowardly to draw a fire-arm upon himself, but it is right and brave to place himself in the line of some one else’s fire. Such a condition of imbecility is extremely infectious. It sweeps through crowds of men like a disease through cattle. But, as men are indomitably hopeful, they do not destroy each other, as you, Ultimus, might suppose. No, they wait until they can discover another crowd of men in the same lamentable condition, and fall upon them in the hope of a victory which shall restore their self-conceit and once more blind them to the appalling consequences of their own ill-doing. And here, at last, we do touch upon one of the prime causes of war. Superficially it looks as though the immediate cause was this, that the governors of States make such a mess of the affairs with which they are entrusted and reduce their people to so lamentable a condition that they must seek war as an outlet, and to give the male populace as soldiers the food which they have made it impossible for them to earn as workers. There is also the consideration that a large proportion of the male populace will be removed from all possibility of making trouble. That is an interesting but a superficial view which attaches more blame to the rich than they deserve. No. A more profound analysis gives us the result I have previously indicated, that wars are invariably due to moral epidemics. And, since the human race will always be subject to them, there will always be war.”
Ultimus had withdrawn at the beginning of the discussion. Having no knowledge of men in herds, he could not follow the line of Siebenhaar’s argument. He returned now to say that he had obliterated another battle. On this the Rear-Admiral was excited and wished to know what ships he had seen and what flag they were flying.
“I do not know,” replied Ultimus, “but there were nine ships attacking three and that struck me as so unfair that I decided to make an end of it.”
“But they may have been Fattish ships! Have you no regard for human life?”
Said Ultimus:
“There was no sign of anything human. They looked like flies on the water. When I see three scorpions attacking a smaller insect I always kill the scorpions for their cowardice and the insect for having called down their anger upon itself.”
Rear-Admiral Bich drew himself up to his full height and said:
“As a Christian I protest. As an officer and a gentleman I must ask you to put me ashore at the first opportunity. They may be Fattish ships which you have destroyed. My King and country need me.”
“Come, come,” interposed Siebenhaar, “your King and country are probably doing very well without you. They have an immense geographical advantage which only the blind jealousy of the Fatters makes it impossible for them to admit. You are already a hero; poems have in all probability been written to your memory. You had better stay with us. It will be much more amusing to see what effect Ultimus has on civilisation than to plunge back into the fever which has seized it.”
The Rear-Admiral looked scornful and very proud and said:
“Herr Siebenhaar, on our previous acquaintance only the protection of the late heroic Mr. Samways prevented me from denouncing you as a Fatter spy. I have not forgotten.”
“What,” asked Ultimus, “is a spy?”
“Spies,” replied Siebenhaar, “are corrupt and useless people who are sent out to frighten a hostile nation by making them think that the enemy knows more about them than they do themselves. They are only used when the desire for war is very strong. They exercise a paralysing effect upon the civil population and deliver them up to the guidance of their own military authorities. They are like microbes which carry the war fever from one country to another. I regret that Sir Charles should have so small an opinion of my intelligence as to think that my country would make so trivial a use of me.”
“I can’t stand all this talk,” muttered the Rear-Admiral, and he went away and all night long paced up and down the sands on the other side of the island, imagining that he was once more serving his King and country on his own quarter-deck.