The Witness by Grace Livingston Hill Lutz (mobi reader android TXT) 📕

Have Done But For The War,  Socialist Leadership Would Have Asserted Itself.

As In All Other Countries,  The Divisions Of Opinion Created By The War

Among The Socialists Cut Across All Previous Existing Lines Of Separation

And Made It Impossible To Say That This Or That Faction Adopted A

Particular View. Just As In Germany,  France,  And England,  Some Of The Most

Revolutionary Socialists Joined With The More Moderate Socialists In

Upholding The War,  While Extremely Moderate Socialists Joined With

Socialists Of The Opposite Extreme In Opposing It. It Is Possible,  However,

To Set Forth The Principal Features Of The Division With Tolerable

Accuracy:

A Majority Of The Socialist-Revolutionary Party Executive Issued An

Anti-War Manifesto. There Is No Means Of Telling How Far The Views

Expressed Represented The Attitude Of The Peasant Socialists As A Whole,

Owing To The Disorganized State Of The Party And The Difficulties Of

Assembling The Members. The Manifesto Read:

    There Is No Doubt That Austrian Imperialism Is Responsible For The

    War With Serbia. But Is It Not Equally Criminal On The Part Of

    Serbs To Refuse Autonomy To Macedonia And To Oppress Smaller And

    Weaker Nations?

    It Is The Protection Of This State That Our Government Considers

    Its "Sacred Duty." What Hypocrisy! Imagine The Intervention Of The

    Czar On Behalf Of Poor Serbia,  Whilst He Martyrizes Poland,

    Finland And The Jews,  And Behaves Like A Brigand Toward Persia.

    Whatever May Be The Course Of Events,  The Russian Workers And

    Peasants Will Continue Their Heroic Fight To Obtain For Russia A

    Place Among Civilized Nations.

This Manifesto Was Issued,  As Reported In The Socialist Press,  Prior To The

Actual Declaration Of War. It Was A Threat Of Revolution Made With A View

To Preventing The War,  If Possible,  And Belongs To The Same Category As The

Similar Threats Of Revolution Made By The German Socialists Before The War

To The Same End. The Mildness Of Manner Which Characterizes The Manifesto

May Be Attributed To Two Causes--Weakness Of The Movement And A Resulting

Lack Of Assurance,  Together With A Lack Of Conviction Arising From The Fact

That Many Of The Leaders,  While They Hated The Czar And All His Works,  And

Could Not Reconcile Themselves To The Idea Of Making Any Kind Of Truce With

Their Great Enemy,  Nevertheless Were Pro-Ally And Anxious For The Defeat Of

German Tfully,  "Not That I Know Of." The

Suggestion Struck Him Curiously As One Who Hears For The First Time That

There Is A Possibility That He May Be Selected For Some Important

Foreign Embassy.

"Well,  Then,  Yer Surely A Blessed Child O' God Himself,  Anyhow,  And This

Is A Great Night Fer This Poor Little Room To Be Honored With A Pretty

Prayer Like That!"

Scarcely Hearing Her,  He Said Good Night And Went Thoughtfully Down The

Dark Stairs,  A Strange Sense Of Peace Upon Him. Curiously Enough,  While

He Felt That He Had Left The Presence Up In That Little Dismal Room,  It

Yet Seemed To Be Moving Beside Him,  Touching His Soul,  Breathing Upon

Him! He Was So Engrossed With This Thought That It Never Occurred To Him

That He Had Given The Old Woman Every Cent He Had In His Pocket. He Had

Forgotten Entirely That He Had Been Hungry. A Great World-Wonder Was

Moving Within His Spirit. He Could Not Understand Himself. He Went Back

With Awe Over The Last Few Minutes And The Strange New World Into Which

He Had Been So Suddenly Plunged.

Scarcely Noticing How He Went,  He Got Himself Out Of The Intricacies Of

The Court Into A Neighborhood A Shade Less Poverty-Stricken,  And Stood

Upon The Corner Of A Busy Thoroughfare In An Utterly Unfamiliar

District,  Pausing To Look About Him And Discover His Whereabouts.

A Little Child With Long,  Fair Hair Rushed Suddenly Out Of A Door On The

Side-Street,  Eagerly Pulling A Ragged Sweater About His Small Shoulders,

And Stood Upon The Curbstone,  Breathlessly Watching The Coming Trolley.

The Car Stopped,  And A Young Girl In Shabby Clothes Got Out And Came

Toward Him.

"Bonnie! Bonnie! I've Got Supper All Ready!" The Child Called In A

Clear,  Bird-Like Voice,  And Darted From The Curb Across The Narrow

Side-Street To Meet Her.

Courtland,  Standing On The Corner In Front Of The Trolley,  Saw,  Too

Late,  The Swift-Coming Automobile Bearing Down Upon The Child,  Its

Head-Lights Flaring On The Golden Hair. With A Cry The Young Man Sprang

To The Rescue,  But The Child Was Already Crumpled Up Like A Lily And The

Relentless Car Speeding Onward,  Its Chauffeur Darting Frightened,

Cowardly Glances Behind Him As He Plunged His Machine Forward Over The

Track,  Almost In The Teeth Of The Up-Trolley. When The Trolley Was

Passed There Was No Sign Of The Car,  Even If Any One Had Had Time To

Look For It. There In The Road Lay The Little,  Broken Child,  The Long

Hair Spilling Like Gold Over The Pavement,  The Little,  Still,  White Face

Looking Up Like A Flower That Has Suddenly Been Torn From The Plant.

The Girl Was Beside The Child Almost Instantly,  Dropping All Her

Parcels; Gathering Him Into Her Slender Arms,  Calling In Frightened,

Tender Tones:

"Aleck! Darling! My Little Darling!"

The Child Was Too Heavy For Her To Lift,  And She Tottered As She Tried

To Rise,  Lifting A Frightened Face To Courtland.

"Let Me Take Him," Said The Young Man,  Stooping And Gathering Him Gently

From Her. "Now Show Me Where!"

Into The Narrow Brick House From Which He Had Run Forth So Joyously But

A Few Short Minutes Before,  They Carried Him,  Up Two Flights Of Steep

Stairs To A Tiny Room At The Back Of The Hall.

The Gas Was Burning Brightly At One Side,  And Something That Sent Forth

A Savory Odor Was Bubbling On A Little Two-Burner Gas-Stove. Courtland

Was Hungry,  And It Struck His Nostrils Pleasantly As The Door Swung

Open,  Revealing A Tiny Table Covered With A White Cloth,  Set For Two.

There Was A Window Curtained With White,  And A Red Geranium On The Sill.

The Girl Entered Ahead Of Him,  Sweeping Back A Bright Chintz Curtain

That Divided The Tiny Room,  And Drew Forth A Child's Cot Bed. Courtland

Gently Laid Down The Little Inert Figure. The Girl Was On Her Knees

Beside The Child At Once,  A Bottle In Her Hand. She Was Dropping A Few

Drops In A Teaspoon And Forcing Them Between The Child's Lips.

"Will You Please Get A Doctor,  Quick," She Said,  In A Strained,  Quiet

Voice. "No,  I Don't Know Who; I've Only Been Here Two Weeks. We're

Strangers! Bring Somebody! Anybody! Quick!"

Courtland Was Back In A Minute With A Weary,  Seedy-Looking Doctor Who

Just Fitted The Street. All The Way He Was Seeing The Beautiful Agony Of

The Girl's Face. It Was As If Her Suffering Had Been His Own. Somehow He

Could Not Bear To Think What Might Be Coming. The Little Form Had Lain

So Limply In His Arms!

The Girl Had Undressed The Child And Put Him Between The Sheets. He Was

More Like A Broken Lily Than Ever. The Long Dark Lashes Lay Still Upon

The Cheeks.

Courtland Stood Back In The Doorway,  Looking At The Small Table Set For

Two,  And Pushed To The Wall Now To Make Room For The Cot. There Was Just

Barely Room To Walk Around Between The Things. He Could Almost Hear The

Echo Of That Happy,  Childish Voice Calling Down In The Street: "Bonnie!

Bonnie! I've Got Supper All Ready!"

He Wondered If The Girl Had Heard. And There Was The Supper! Two

Blue-And-White Bowls Set Daintily On Two Blue-And-White Plates,

Obviously For The Something-Hot That Was Cooking Over The Flame,  Two

Bits Of Bread-And-Butter Plates To Match; Two Glasses Of Milk; A Plate

Of Bread,  Another Of Butter; And By Way Of Dessert An Apple Cut In Half,

The Core Dug Out And The Hollow Filled With Sugar. He Took In The

Details Tenderly,  As If They Had Been A Word-Picture By Wells Or Shaw In

His Contemporary-Prose Class At College. They Seemed To Burn Themselves

Into His Memory.

"Go Over To My House And Ask My Wife To Give You My Battery!" Commanded

The Doctor In A Low Growl.

Courtland Was Off Again,  Glad Of Something To Do. He Carried The Memory

Of The Doctor's Grizzled Face Lying On The Little Bared Breast Of The

Child,  Listening For The Heart-Beats,  And The Beautiful Girl's Anguish

As She Stood Above Them. He Pushed Aside The Curious Throng That Had

Gathered Around The Door And Were Looking Up The Stairs,  Whispering

Dolefully And Shaking Heads:

"An' He Was So Purty,  And So Cheery,  Bless His Heart!" Wailed One Woman.

"He Always Had His Bit Of A Word An' A Smile!"

"Aw! Them Ottymobbeels!" He Heard Another Murmur. "Ridin' Along In

Their Glory! They'll Be A Day O' Reckonin' Fer Them Rich Folks What

Rides In 'Em! They'll Hev To Walk! They May Even Have To Lie Abed An'

Hev Their Wages Get Behind!"

The Whole Weight Of The Sorrow Of The World Seemed Suddenly Pressing

Upon Courtland's Heart. How Had He Been Thus Unexpectedly Taken Out Of

The Pleasant Monotony Of The University And Whirled Into This Vortex Of

Anguish! Why Had It Been? Was It Just Happen That He Should Have Been

The One To Have Gone To The Old Woman And Made Her Toast,  And Then Been

Called Upon To Pray,  Instead Of Tennelly Or Bill Ward Or Any Of The

Other Fellows? And After That Was It Again Just Coincidence That He

Should Have Happened To Stand At That Corner At That Particular Moment

And Been One To Participate In This Later Tragedy? Oh,  The Beautiful

Face Of The Suffering Girl! Fear And Sorrow And Suffering And Death

Everywhere! Wittemore Hurrying To His Dying Mother! The Old Woman Lying

On Her Bed Of Pain! But There Had Been Glory In That Dark Old Room When

He Left It,  The Glory Of A Presence! Ah! Where Was The Presence Now? How

Could _He_ Bear All This? The Christ! And Could He Not Change It If He

Would--Make The World A Happy Place Instead Of This Dark And Dreadful

Thing That It Was? For The First Time The Horror Of War Surged Over His

Soul In Its Blackness. Men Dying In The Trenches! Women Weeping At Home

For Them! Others Suffering And Bleeding To Death Out In The Open,  The

Cold Or The Storm!