No. XXXIV.
(_From the Frau Professor TINTENKLECKS._)
ALL-MIGHTIEST KAISER,--With the humblest assurance of my everlasting
respect I desire to lay bare to you, since you are without doubt the
Father of your People, my inmost thoughts as to this terrible War in
which we have now for eighteen months been engaged. I have some right, I
think, for my husband is that same Professor Tintenklecks whose
_opusculum_ on "International Law in Relation to World Power" was
received with special favour by your Majesty, who summoned the beloved
writer to your Palace, and with your own gracious right hand were
pleased to beat him with some force on his back, saying that "this
Tintenklecks is a tremendous fellow, and there should be more such in the
world." How well I remember that evening--it was a year before the War--and
how in honour of the Professor we had a Poetry supper, at which each guest
recited some verses of praise, and at the end little Amalie Siegeltisch,
the daughter of our colleague, placed on the brows of the Professor
a laurel-wreath which, however, pricked his with-much-hair-unadorned
head, and had therefore, after a great deal of pleasant witticisms,
to be taken off.
So when the War at last broke out my husband and I were amongst the
loudest Hosannah-shouters and singers of true German patriotic songs,
for we believed then that the War would be a short one, and that after a
few great victories we should make a brilliant peace on our own terms,
having utterly smashed all our enemies and having taken England's
war-ships and her colonies for our own. "Long he cannot last," said my
Professor, speaking of the War. "The French are a degenerate race, and
we shall be in Paris in a month. The English are given up to games, and
their mercenary army--I have it on the highest authority--cannot for a
moment stand against our German heroes. The Russians are slow and
disorganised and useless for war. For me you need not be afraid, my
dear. In this war a man of my age will not be required." So he spoke;
and now where is he and what has become of him? He has lost a leg, his
right hand has been shot through, and he is in a hospital in Poland.
Shall I ever see him again, I wonder.
Well, we have had victories in plenty, according to the Generals. Every
time we move from one place to another we gain, it seems, an
overwhelming triumph and cause to fly every one who is opposed to us.
Twice already your Majesty has announced that before the leaves fell
from the trees there would be peace, and our brave soldiers would return
safely to their homes; but, alas, it has not so happened, and the
dreadful fighting still goes on, and many thousands of our women lose
their fathers, their husbands, and their sons. With every victory (as
they call it) peace, which should be nearer at hand, seems to retire
further and further away, and only sorrow and wretchedness come close to
us. And that is not all. Our food, like everything else we have to buy,
is so dear that we women find it above all things difficult to provide
ourselves with what we need for our daily life, and the worst of it,
they say, has not yet come. I could understand that if we had been
defeated; but we have been ever victorious and yet we are in want. It is
useless for Pastor Hassmann to tell us on Sundays that we must endure to
the end. We are prepared to do what we can, but we think, too, that
since we have been so magnificently victorious we should have peace
quickly, so that we may all once more try to have some happiness in this
world.