“When bonnie Prince Charlie raised his army, he didn’t merely attempt to regain land that England had taken from Scotland. If that had been the case, he wouldn’t have needed to march any farther than Carlisle to insure that Scotland’s land and border were secure. But Prince Charlie marched south almost to London. His goal was to take over and conquer England. He wanted both the land and power over his enemy. And when the duke of Cumberland chased Charlie’s army back north, did he stop at the border once English land was secure?”
Charles paused and glanced first at Catharine, then to George.
“He pursued him throughout Scotland and massacred Charlie’s whole army,” replied George.
“Exactly. Both sides wanted the land and the power. And essentially that was the end of Scotland as an independent nation. England conquered her longtime enemy, subdued her, and made her part . . . well, not really part of England as such—we still call it ‘Scotland’—but it is clear she is no longer independent. She became part of Great Britain. But it is obvious that England was the dominant force in the newly united nation, and that she had gained both the land and the power over Scotland.
“You see, there are always two possibilities which can emerge from these kinds of disputes—either conquest or balance of power. In the case of Germany and France, there is a balance of power. Both are independent nations of approximately equal strength. They may still be enemies, but their power exists in balance. And that’s good for Europe. No superpowerful nation can dominate the others. In the case of England and Scotland, however, there was conquest. Now there is but one nation. Scotland no longer has the status of an independent and sovereign nation.”
“But neither does England, Father,” said George. “They’re joined, with Scotland and Wales and Ireland, into the United Kingdom.”
“Technically, of course, you’re correct, George,” replied Charles. “But practically speaking, England defeated the others and renamed the new and larger nation. England didn’t really lose her sovereignty and independence in the process, she merely expanded it. But Scotland lost its sovereignty, and its parliament was disbanded.”
“But what does all that have to do with the Continent now?” asked Catharine.
“This same thing is now going on over there,” replied Charles, “involving several small nations that are just like Scotland used to be—fighting for their independence so as not to be swallowed up by bigger and more powerful neighbors. It is exactly the same situation. Will these states be allowed to be independent, or will they be swallowed up? Will a larger nation defeat and conquer them, or will a balance of power be preserved among many independent nations?”
“What are the small countries?” asked George.
“In the Balkans there are five states that all used to be under the domination of the Ottoman Empire—Serbia, Romania, Bulgaria, Albania, and Montenegro.”
“And what is the country like England who is trying to take them over?” asked Catharine.
“There are three major powers involved,” replied her father. “All three want to control the Balkans—the Turkish or Ottoman Empire, Russia, and Austria-Hungary. The Crimean War of the 1850s was fought over this same region, and the disputes were never resolved—except that Ottoman Turkey is weaker, and now Germany is considerably stronger. So you see it is far more complicated than with the England-Scotland parallel, because there are five states struggling for independence, and three major nations who want to control the region. On top of that, all these countries have allies who are also involved. It is a very dangerous situation, far more explosive than when the Crimean War broke out in 1854.”
“And do the various people involved hate each other too, like you were saying earlier?” asked Catharine.
“Fiercely,” replied Charles. “Far worse than has ever existed between the English and the Scots, or even between the Germans and the French. It more resembles the Jews and the Arabs. There are many ethnic races and bloodlines involved in a very small area. They all hate each other passionately—Bosnians, Serbs, Slavs, Bulgarians, Turks, Hungarians, Austrians, Romanians, some with ties more toward Russia, others more Teutonic or German in origin, and some still clinging to old allegiances toward Constantinople and the Ottoman Empire.”
“Why does England care so much what happens down on the Black Sea?” asked Catharine.
“Because we have interests in the Near East, we control the Suez Canal, and because we are concerned that no other world power—such as Russia or Germany—try to take over or gain control of those interests. It is mainly that we desire to maintain a balance of power. England has no interest in taking over Europe, so to speak. But neither do we want to see some other nation grow so powerful that our interests would be jeopardized—especially some nation that we don’t entirely trust, such as Germany or Russia.”
“Are you saying that we are somewhat in the middle?” asked George.
Charles nodded. “In a manner of speaking,” he said. “Great Britain often acts something like a diplomatic referee among many differing interests on the world stage, trying to keep all the nations in balance. It is a role we have occupied for centuries. England has always been different than conquering nations. England’s history has no Alexander, Napoleon, Caesar, or Genghis Khan, intent on world domination and conquest.”
“What about colonialism?” asked George. “Isn’t the present British Empire something like the ancient Roman Empire?”
“No, no, my boy—although some modernists would like people to believe exactly that. Colonialism is much different than conquest. The British Empire is an altogether different thing than the domination of Rome or even what Napoleon sought. Britain is a colonial power but not a conquering power.”
“And Britain has sought the good of the peoples of its colonies,” added Jocelyn. “There have been mistakes, of course, but that has generally been our policy, wouldn’t you say, Charles?”
“Yes and no, I suppose. We discussed just such things many times in Parliament. Mistakes . . . yes. But doing good for the native peoples of our dominions has always been a concern—a much different objective than the Napoleonic or Roman empires, where subjugation by military might was supreme. It has not been a policy that has always been carried out very well. I don’t suppose the American colonists, or the natives of India more recently, have always felt that we were trying to do good for them. There are two sides to everything. But Great Britain has, to whatever degree, always tried to keep the good of its dominions in mind.”
Charles paused momentarily and took a sip of his tea, now lukewarm.
“For centuries,” he went on, “our role has been as the balancing hub of Europe, trying to prevent any one nation from establishing hegemony. Britain believes in balance, not conquest. That is why we are now allied with France and Russia, our former enemies—as a counterbalance to Germany and Austria-Hungary. We do not want to conquer Germany, but neither do we want to allow her to grow so strong she can conquer the rest of Europe.”
“But why is the land by the Black Sea so important to everyone?” asked Catharine. “Why is everyone nervous about it?”
“Because some regions are more important than others,” replied Charles. “Remember . . . conflicts originate over land. But not all land is equal. If Iceland were being disputed, for instance, it would hardly cause worldwide concern. The Shetland Islands were once Norway’s possession and are now part of the United Kingdom. The dispute over the Shetlands did not lead to war.”
“Those are unimportant disputed lands, is that what you’re saying?” asked George.
“Surely not to the people who live there,” replied his father. “But they are not strategic or possessive of great wealth. In terms of the whole world, I suppose we could call them relatively unimportant. The fate of the world’s future is not going to be determined by Iceland. Would nations go to war over Greenland or Antarctica?”
Catharine and George chuckled at the idea.
“But the land around Bu
lgaria, Greece, and the Ottoman Empire,” their father continued, “—and especially the straits between the Black Sea and Mediterranean, and the city of Constantinople—have been throughout history some of the most disputed and fought over land in all the world. These are extremely vital lands and waterways. Everybody wants to control it. Wealth is at stake. Power is at stake. It is at a place like this where land and power merge and almost become synonymous.”
“Whose land is it?”
“For centuries it has been in the hands of the Ottoman Empire, which stretched across the Dardanelles into Bulgaria and Serbia, whose enemy all those years has been the Austrian Empire. However, the Ottoman Empire is now in decline. As its power has weakened, Austria has slowly advanced southward.”
“How has that affected the Balkans?” asked George.
“The five states I mentioned before are all feeling more independence because of the withdrawal of Turkish power from their borders. There is even talk that they might join together and go to war against the Ottoman Empire in order to gain complete independence, much as the Americans went to war against us. But at the same time, Austria is trying to move in and bring these nations under its control. And, likewise, Russia feels a legitimate claim to the region because many of the peoples of these Balkan states are Slavic in origin. Russia considers it her right to protect Serbia and Romania in particular from being swallowed up by Austria.”
“So it’s not as simple as America fighting for its independence,” remarked George. “Or even the disputes between Scotland and England.”
“Not at all,” rejoined Charles. “It’s far more complex, and far more explosive. The whole future of Europe may be at stake. What you have is a clashing of three major powers—imperial Austria, Ottoman Turkey, and tsarist Russia—at one tiny point on the map of huge strategic importance and wealth, where live a cluster of intensely nationalistic Slavic and Germanic peoples. Not only that, it is a region of constant unrest, whose peoples are violent and frequently disputing among themselves.”
It fell silent for several long minutes.
“I think I understand it a little better now,” said Catharine. “But it is still confusing.”
“It is confusing,” said Charles.
“What do you think will happen?” asked Jocelyn.
“We can only hope and pray that cool heads will prevail. But the Balkan people themselves can be hotheaded. Their patriotism is extreme, even fanatic. There is Middle Eastern blood intermingled in some of these Balkan races—Turkish blood, probably some Arab. They are hostile, fighting people. When you put into the middle of that the present bellicose German outlook . . . it is frightening. What Serbia will do if Austria threatens its independence is anyone’s guess. My own fear is that Austria and Russia may come to blows over the Balkans. If that happens, Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany becomes the wild card. What might he do? If he reacted impulsively and arrogantly . . .”
Charles paused and shook his head, then sighed.
“As I said,” he added, “we can only hope the major powers will not allow such pride, ethnic nationalism, and arrogance to dictate their actions.”
33
Family Evening in the Library
With the advent of electricity in Heathersleigh Hall, Charles and Jocelyn often retired to the book-lined room in the evening after tea, to spend two or three quiet hours in the company of their favorite authors and other literary friends. What a delight it was to be able to read as if in broad daylight rather than by beeswax candlelight or kerosene lamp, especially on a cozy, rainy evening.
On this particular occasion Catharine and George had joined them. And now father and mother, son and daughter, all sat close to one another in a sitting nook which had been carved out by the rearrangement of a few of the shelves, each quietly engrossed in his own literary selection.
“This is absolutely the most remarkable book!” Charles suddenly exclaimed, shaking his head as if in disbelief and chuckling. The others glanced up. “I was skeptical at first,” he went on, “and probably wouldn’t be reading it at all if I hadn’t promised Timothy I would. But now I can see why it’s causing such a stir over in the States.”
“What is it?” asked Catharine.
“It’s a novel by an American pastor called In His Steps.”
“You . . . reading a novel, Father,” she exclaimed laughing, “—I don’t believe it! You, who once said novels were only for romantics and women.”
“Don’t be too hard on him, Catharine,” said George. “Between Timothy and me, we’ve almost got him converted.”
“He’s right,” added Charles. “And it was dear Queen Victoria who first got me interested in the Scotsman’s work with her gift at my knighting. And with Timothy raving about him all the time, how could I not keep an open mind?”
“I don’t recall your reading any other novelists,” persisted Catharine good-naturedly.
“I suppose you have me there,” confessed Charles.
“But, Father, there are so many great novels with so much spiritual truth in them. I like them better than devotional books.—And don’t you dare say it’s because I’m a young woman! I’m not a romantic—I just learn more about living as a Christian from novels than anything else. They’re more real.”
Charles laughed. “After reading this Sheldon book, I understand why you say so.”
“Oh, you should read Harold Wright. He’s an American too. I love his books.”
“But, Charles,” now said Jocelyn, “I haven’t read the book Timothy gave us yet. What’s it about?”
“The most fascinating premise,” replied Charles. “The pastor of a church put before his congregation the proposition that they pledge, for an entire year, to do nothing—in their businesses, in their homes, in the life of their church, in everything that came up—without first asking, ‘What would Jesus do?’”
It was silent a moment as they considered the startling proposal.
“And what was the result?” asked Jocelyn.
“I don’t know yet,” replied her husband. “I’m only about a third of the way through the book, but already it’s turning the lives of all who try it upside down.”
“One of the Wright books I read is something like that,” said Catharine. “It’s called That Printer of Udell’s.”
“Do we have it?” asked Charles.
“It’s over there,” replied Catharine, pointing vaguely. “I’ve got five or six of his books.”
“Well, now that I find myself branching out in the field of fiction whose foundation is built on spiritual principles, perhaps I shall try that next. Are you reading one of the Wright fellow’s books at the moment?”
“Actually no,” replied Catharine. “I’m reading Ben-Hur.”
“Oh, right—the Roman story about the Lord and the galley slave, or something.”
“I’ve been wanting to read it too,” said Jocelyn. “Is it good?”
“It’s different than a contemporary sort of story. But it’s really making me think. And there’s so much about Jewish customs and the history of that period—I’m learning a lot. Besides that, it’s just a good story.”
“It’s been performed onstage in London I believe, hasn’t it?” said her mother.
“I didn’t know that,” replied Catharine. “I would love to see it acted out!”
“It was a few years ago, as I recall,” said Charles. “I’ve heard nothing about it recently.—By the way, what are you reading, George?”
“One of the Scotsman’s.”
“Which one?”
“Warlock O’Glenwarlock.”
“That’s a spooky title!” said Catharine with a shudder.
“It’s not that bad,” laughed her brother. “Warlock is the family name, that’s all.”
“Ugh, but why did he pick a name like that?”
“Who knows—maybe he knew somebody called Warlock. But the story’s great. Castle Warlock reminds me of Heathersleigh—hidden passages and ancient secrets. And I
have the feeling there’s a treasure somewhere, something about an old sea captain, but I’m not far enough into it to be sure. It’s full of Scots dialect and spiritual truths—one of the best of his I’ve read so far.”
“All right, Mother,” said Catharine, turning toward Jocelyn, “you’re the only one who hasn’t told us what you’re reading.”
“I must confess,” smiled Jocelyn, “that I am not reading a novel this evening. Not that I have anything against them, mind you. I love a good story. But tonight I was in the mood for something that made me think in a different way than fiction does.”
“And what did you find?” asked her husband.
“I was in the mood for my other favorite Scotsman,” replied Jocelyn.
“Ah yes—the good Professor Drummond. What of his are you reading?”
“I’ve read the love essay so many times, I thought I ought to branch out. And I found this that we had right here in the library, The Ideal Life and Other Unpublished Addresses.”
She lifted the book from her lap and showed it to Charles.
“It has addresses on salvation and God’s will and a number of topics. I’ve been reading one whose title caught my fancy called ‘The Man After God’s Own Heart.’”
“Sounds intriguing. I presume he means man in the encompassing sense? We wouldn’t want any feminist suffragettes crying prejudice.”
Jocelyn laughed. “I took the liberty of including myself in his man,” she replied. “I am quite sure Mr. Drummond intended it so. Listen to this.”
Jocelyn glanced down again at her book, found her place, and began to read aloud.
“‘We are going to ask,’” she read, “‘What is the true plan of the Christian life? If you look you will see that the answer lies on the surface of our text. The general truth of the words of Acts 13:22 is simply this: that the end of life is to do God’s will. Now that is a great and surprising revelation. It has been before the world these eighteen hundred years, yet few have even found it out today. One man will tell you the end of life is to be true. Another will tell you it is to deny self. Another will say it is to keep the Ten Commandments. A fourth will point you to the Beatitudes. One will tell you it is to do good, another that it is to get good, another that it is to be good.
Wayward Winds Page 14