"You Englishmen aren"t like our Christians," he went on.
The Englishmen wanted to know why.
"You haven"t priests in robes. You don"t chant and worship crosses and pictures, and quarrel among yourselves."
"We worship the same G.o.d as you do," said the Englishman.
"Then why do we fight?"
"That"s what we want to know."
"Why do you call yourselves Christians? And take part against us? All who worship the One G.o.d are brothers."
"They ought to be," said the Englishman, and thought. He was struck by what seemed to him an amazingly novel idea.
"If it weren"t for religions all men would serve G.o.d together," he said. "And then there would be no wars--only now and then perhaps just a little honest fighting...."
"And see here," said the Angel. "Here close behind this frightful battle, where the German phalanx of guns pounds its way through the Russian hosts. Here is a young German talking to two wounded Russian prisoners, who have stopped to rest by the roadside. He is a German of East Prussia; he knows and thinks a little Russian. And they too are saying, all three of them, that the war is not G.o.d"s will, but the confusion of mankind.
"Here," he said, and the shadow of his hand hovered over the burning-ghats of Benares, where a Brahmin of the new persuasion watched the straight spires of funereal smoke ascend into the glow of the late afternoon, while he talked to an English painter, his friend, of the blind intolerance of race and caste and custom in India.
"Or here."
The Angel pointed to a group of people who had gathered upon a little beach at the head of a Norwegian fiord. There were three lads, an old man and two women, and they stood about the body of a drowned German sailor which had been washed up that day. For a time they had talked in whispers, but now suddenly the old man spoke aloud.
"This is the fourth that has come ash.o.r.e," he said. "Poor drowned souls!
Because men will not serve G.o.d."
"But folks go to church and pray enough," said one of the women.
"They do not serve G.o.d," said the old man. "They just pray to him as one nods to a beggar. They do not serve G.o.d who is their King. They set up their false kings and emperors, and so all Europe is covered with dead, and the seas wash up these dead to us. Why does the world suffer these things? Why did we Norwegians, who are a free-spirited people, permit the Germans and the Swedes and the English to set up a king over us?
Because we lack faith. Kings mean secret counsels, and secret counsels bring war. Sooner or later war will come to us also if we give the soul of our nation in trust to a king.... But things will not always be thus with men. G.o.d will not suffer them for ever. A day comes, and it is no distant day, when G.o.d himself will rule the earth, and when men will do, not what the king wishes nor what is expedient nor what is customary, but what is manifestly right."....
"But men are saying that now in a thousand places," said the Angel.
"Here is something that goes a little beyond that."
His pointing hand went southward until they saw the Africanders riding down to Windhuk. Two men, Boer farmers both, rode side by side and talked of the German officer they brought prisoner with them. He had put sheep-dip in the wells of drinking-water; his life was fairly forfeit, and he was not to be killed. "We want no more hate in South Africa,"
they agreed. "Dutch and English and German must live here now side by side. Men cannot always be killing."
"And see his thoughts," said the Angel.
The German"s mind was one amazement. He had been sure of being shot, he had meant to make a good end, fierce and scornful, a relentless fighter to the last; and these men who might have shot him like a man were going to spare him like a dog. His mind was a tumbled muddle of old and new ideas. He had been brought up in an atmosphere of the foulest and fiercest militarism; he had been trained to relentlessness, ruthlessness and so forth; war was war and the bitterer the better, frightfulness was your way to victory over every enemy. But these people had found a better way. Here were Dutch and English side by side; sixteen years ago they had been at war together and now they wore the same uniform and rode together, and laughed at him for a queer fellow because he was for spitting at them and defying them, and folding his arms and looking level at the executioners" rifles. There were to be no executioners"
rifles.... If it was so with Dutch and English, why shouldn"t it be so presently with French and Germans? Why someday shouldn"t French, German, Dutch and English, Russian and Pole, ride together under this new star of mankind, the Southern Cross, to catch whatever last mischief-maker was left to poison the wells of goodwill?
His mind resisted and struggled against these ideas. "Austere," he whispered. "The enn.o.bling tests of war." A trooner rode up alongside, and offered him a drink of water
"Just a mouthful," he said apologetically. "We"ve had to go rather short."...
"There"s another brain busy here with the same idea," the Angel interrupted. And the bishop found himself looking into the bedroom of a young German attache in Washington, sleepless in the small hours.
"Ach!" cried the young man, and sat up in bed and ran his hands through his fair hair.
He had been working late upon this detestable business of the Lusitania; the news of her sinking had come to hand two days before, and all America was aflame with it. It might mean war. His task had been to pour out explanations and justifications to the press; to show that it was an act of necessity, to pretend a conviction that the great ship was loaded with munitions, to fight down the hostility and anger that blazed across a continent. He had worked to his limit. He had taken cup after cup of coffee, and had come to bed worked out not two hours ago. Now here he was awake after a nightmare of drowning women and children, trying to comfort his soul by recalling his own arguments. Never once since the war began had he doubted the rightness of the German cause. It seemed only a proof of his nervous exhaustion that he could doubt it now.
Germany was the best organized, most cultivated, scientific and liberal nation the earth had ever seen, it was for the good of mankind that she should be the dominant power in the world; his patriotism had had the pa.s.sion of a mission. The English were indolent, the French decadent, the Russians barbaric, the Americans basely democratic; the rest of the world was the "White man"s Burthen"; the clear destiny of mankind was subservience to the good Prussian eagle. Nevertheless--those wet draggled bodies that swirled down in the eddies of the sinking t.i.tan--Ach! He wished it could have been otherwise. He nursed his knees and prayed that there need not be much more of these things before the spirit of the enemy was broken and the great Peace of Germany came upon the world.
And suddenly he stopped short in his prayer.
Suddenly out of the nothingness and darkness about him came the conviction that G.o.d did not listen to his prayers....
Was there any other way?
It was the most awful doubt he had ever had, for it smote at the training of all his life. "Could it be possible that after all our old German G.o.d is not the proper style and t.i.tle of the true G.o.d? Is our old German G.o.d perhaps only the last of a long succession of bloodstained tribal effigies--and not G.o.d at all?"
For a long time it seemed that the bishop watched the thoughts that gathered in the young attache"s mind. Until suddenly he broke into a quotation, into that last cry of the dying Goethe, for "Light. More Light!"...
"Leave him at that," said the Angel. "I want you to hear these two young women."
The hand came back to England and pointed to where Southend at the mouth of the Thames was all agog with the excitement of an overnight Zeppelin raid. People had got up hours before their usual time in order to look at the wrecked houses before they went up to their work in town.
Everybody seemed abroad. Two nurses, not very well trained as nurses go nor very well-educated women, were s.n.a.t.c.hing a little sea air upon the front after an eventful night. They were too excited still to sleep.
They were talking of the horror of the moment when they saw the nasty thing "up there," and felt helpless as it dropped its bombs. They had both hated it.
"There didn"t ought to be such things," said one.
"They don"t seem needed," said her companion.
"Men won"t always go on like this--making wars and all such wickedness."
"It"s "ow to stop them?"
"Science is going to stop them."
"Science?"
"Yes, science. My young brother--oh, he"s a clever one--he says such things! He says that it"s science that they won"t always go on like this. There"s more sense coming into the world and more--my young brother says so. Says it stands to reason; it"s Evolution. It"s science that men are all brothers; you can prove it. It"s science that there oughtn"t to be war. Science is ending war now by making it horrible like this, and making it so that no one is safe. Showing it up. Only when n.o.body is safe will everybody want to set up peace, he says. He says it"s proved there could easily be peace all over the world now if it wasn"t for flags and kings and capitalists and priests. They still manage to keep safe and out of it. He says the world ought to be just one state. The World State, he says it ought to be."
("Under G.o.d," said the bishop, "under G.o.d.")
"He says science ought to be King of the whole world."
"Call it Science if you will," said the bishop. "G.o.d is wisdom."
"Out of the mouths of babes and elementary science students," said the Angel. "The very children in the board schools are turning against this narrowness and nonsense and mischief of nations and creeds and kings.
You see it at a thousand points, at ten thousand points, look, the world is all flashing and flickering; it is like a spinthariscope; it is aquiver with the light that is coming to mankind. It is on the verge of blazing even now."
"Into a light."
"Into the one Kingdom of G.o.d. See here! See here! And here! This brave little French priest in a helmet of steel who is daring to think for the first time in his life; this gentle-mannered emir from Morocco looking at the grave-diggers on the battlefield; this mother who has lost her son....