Levin had said ‘Wait a minute’, twice. He now exclaimed with a certain horror:
‘Your mania for sacrificing yourself makes you lose all … all sense of proportion. You forget that General Campion is a gentleman. Things cannot be done in a hole-and-corner manner in this command… .’
Tietjens said:
‘They’re done unbearably… . It would be nothing to me to be broke for being drunk, but raking up all this is hell.’
Levin said:
‘The general is anxious to know exactly what has happened. You will kindly accept an order to relate exactly what happened.’
Tietjens said:
‘That is what is perfectly damnable… .’ He remained silent for nearly a minute, Levin slapping his leggings with his riding-crop in a nervously passionate rhythm. Tietjens stiffened himself and began:
‘General O’Hara came to my wife’s room and burst in the door. I was there. I took him to be drunk. But from what he exclaimed I have since imagined that he was not so much drunk as misled. There was another man lying in the corridor where I had thrown him. General O’Hara exclaimed that this was Major Perowne. I had not realised that this was Major Perowne. I do not know Major Perowne very well and he was not in uniform. I had imagined him to be a French waiter coming to call me to the telephone. I had seen only his face round the door: he was looking round the door. My wife was in a state … bordering on nudity. I had put my hand under his chin and thrown him through the doorway. I am physically very strong and I exercised all my strength. I am aware of that. I was excited, but not more excited than the circumstances seemed to call for… .’
Levin exclaimed:
‘But … At three in the morning! The telephone!’
‘I was ringing up my headquarters and yours. All through the night. The O.I.C. draft, Lieutenant Cowley, was also ringing me up. I was anxious to know what was to be done about the Canadian railway men. I had three times been called to the telephone since I had been in Mrs. Tietjens’ room, and once an orderly had come down from the camp. I was also conducting a very difficult conversation with my wife as to the disposal of my family’s estates, which are large, so that the details were complicated. I occupied the room next door to Mrs. Tietjens and till that moment, the communicating door between the rooms being open, I had heard when a waiter or an orderly had knocked at my own door in the corridor. The night porter of the hotel was a dark, untidy, surly sort of fellow… . Not unlike Perowne.’
Levin said:
‘Is it necessary to go into all this? We …’
Tietjens said:
‘If I am to make a statement it seems necessary. I would prefer you to question me …’
Levin said:
‘Please go on… . We accept the statement that Major Perowne was not in uniform. He states that he was in his pyjamas and dressing-gown. Looking for the bathroom.’
Tietjens said: ‘Ah!’ and stood reflecting. He said:
‘May I hear the … the purport of Major Perowne’s statement?’
‘He states,’ Levin said, ‘what I have just said. He was looking for the bathroom. He had not slept in the hotel before. He opened a door and looked round it, and was immediately thrown with great violence down into the passage with his head against the wall. He says that this dazed him so that, not really appreciating what had happened, he shouted various accusations against the person who had assaulted him… . General O’Hara then came out of his room.’
Tietjens said:
‘What accusations did Major Perowne shout?’
‘He doesn’t …’ Levin hesitated, ‘eh! … elaborate them in his statement.’
Tietjens said:
‘It is, I imagine, material that I should know what they are… .’
Levin said:
‘I don’t know that… . If you’ll forgive me … Major Perowne came to see me, reaching me half an hour after General O’Hara. He was very … extremely nervous and concerned. I am bound to say … for Mrs. Tietjens… . And also very concerned to spare yourself! … It appears that he had shouted out just anything… . As it might be “Thieves!” or “Fire!” … But when General O’Hara came out he told him, being out of himself, that he had been invited to your wife’s room, and that … Oh, excuse me… . I’m under great obligations to you … the very greatest … that you had attempted to blackmail him!’
Tietjens said:
‘Well! …’
‘You understand,’ Levin said, and he was pleading, ‘that that is what he said to General O’Hara in the corridor. He even confessed it was madness… . He did not maintain the accusation to me… .’
Tietjens said:
‘Not that Mrs. Tietjens had given him leave? …’
Levin said with tears in his eyes:
‘I’ll not go on with this… . I will rather resign my commission than go on tormenting you… .’
‘You can’t resign your commission,’ Tietjens said.
‘I can resign my appointment,’ Levin answered. He went on sniffling: ‘This beastly war! … This beastly war …’
Tietjens said:
‘If what is distressing you is having to tell me that you believe Major Perowne came with my wife’s permission I know it’s true. It’s also true that my wife expected me to be there. She wanted some fun: not adultery. But I am also aware – as Major Thurston appears to have told General Campion – that Mrs. Tietjens was with Major Perowne. In France. At a place called Yssingueux-les-Pervenches… .’
‘That wasn’t the name,’ Levin blubbered. ‘It was Saint … Saint … Saint something. In the Cevennes… .’
Tietjens said:
‘Don’t, there! … Don’t distress yourself… .’
‘But I’m …’ Levin went on, ‘under great obligations to you… .’
‘I’d better,’ Tietjens said, ‘finish this matter myself.’
Levin said:
‘It will break the general’s heart. He believes so absolutely in Mrs. Tietjens. Who wouldn’t? … How the devil could you guess what Major Thurston told him?’
‘He’s the sort of brown, trustworthy man who always does know that sort of thing,’ Tietjens answered. ‘As for the general’s belief in Mrs. Tietjens, he’s perfectly justified… . Only there will be no more parades. Sooner or later it has to come to that for us all… .’ He added with a little bitterness: ‘Only not for you. Being a Turk or a Jew you are a simple, Oriental, monogamous, faithful soul… .’ He added again: ‘I hope to goodness the sergeant-cook has the sense not to keep the men’s dinners back for the general’s inspection… . But of course he will not… .’
Levin said:
‘What in the world would that matter?’ fiercely. ‘He keeps men waiting as much as three hours. On parade.’
‘Of course,’ Tietjens said, ‘if that is what Major Perowne told General O’Hara it removes a good deal of my suspicions of the latter’s sobriety. Try to get the position. General O’Hara positively burst in the little sneck of the door that I had put down and came in shouting: “Where is the — blackmailer?” And it was a full three minutes before I could get rid of him. I had had the presence of mind to switch off the light and he persisted in asking for another look at Mrs. Tietjens. You see, if you consider it, he is a very heavy sleeper. He is suddenly awakened after, no doubt, not a few pegs. He hears Major Perowne shouting about blackmail and thieves… . I dare say this town has its quota of blackmailers. O’Hara might well be anxious to catch one in the act. He hates me, anyhow, because of his red-caps. I’m a shabby-looking chap he doesn’t know much about. Perowne passes for being a millionaire. I dare say he is: he’s said to be very stingy. That would be how he got hold of the idea of blackmail and hypnotised the general with it… .’
He went on again:
‘But I wasn’t to know that… . I had shut the door on Perowne and didn’t even know he was Perowne. I really thought he was the night porter coming to call me to the telephone. I only saw a roaring satyr. I mean that was what I thought
O’Hara was… . And I assure you I kept my head… . When he persisted in leaning against the doorpost and asking for another look at Mrs. Tietjens, he kept on saying: “the woman” and “the hussy”. Not “Mrs. Tietjens”… . I thought then that there was something queer. I said: “This is my wife’s room”, several times. He said something to the effect of how could he know she was my wife, and … that she had made eyes at himself in the lounge, so it might have been himself as well as Perowne… . I dare say he had got it into his head that I had imported some tart to blackmail someone… . But you know… . I grew exhausted after a time… . I saw outside in the corridor one of the little subalterns he has on his staff, and I said: “If you do not take General O’Hara away I shall order you to put him under arrest for drunkenness.” That seemed to drive the general crazy. I had gone closer to him, being determined to push him out of the door, and he decidedly smelt of whisky. Strongly… . But I dare say he was thinking himself outraged, really. And perhaps also coming to his senses. As there was nothing else for it, I pushed him gently out of the room. In going he shouted that I was to consider myself under arrest. I so considered myself… . That is to say that, as soon as I had settled certain details with Mrs. Tietjens, I walked up to the camp, which I took to be my quarters, though I am actually under the M.O.’s orders to reside in this hotel owing to the state of my lungs. I saw the draft off, that not necessitating my giving any orders. I went to my sleeping quarters, it being then about six-thirty, and towards seven awakened McKechnie, whom I asked to take my adjutant’s and battalion parade and orderly-room. I had breakfast in my hut, and then went into my private office to await developments. I think I have now told you everything material… .’
II
GENERAL LORD EDWARD Campion, G.C.B., K.C.M.G., (military), D.S.O., etc., sat, radiating glory and composing a confidential memorandum to the Secretary of State for War, on a bully-beef case, leaning forward over a military blanket that covered a deal table. He was for the moment in high good humour on the surface, though his subordinate minds were puzzled and depressed. At the end of each sentence that he wrote – and he wrote with increasing satisfaction! – a mind that he was not using said: ‘What the devil am I going to do with that fellow?’ Or: ‘How the devil is that girl’s name to be kept out of this mess?’
Having been asked to write a confidential memorandum for the information of the home authorities as to what, in his opinion, was the cause of the French railway strike, he had hit on the ingenious device of reporting what was the opinion of the greater part of the forces under his command. This was a dangerous line to take, for he might well come into conflict with the home Government. But he was pretty certain that any inquiries that the home Government could cause to be made amongst the local civilian population would confirm what he was writing – which he was careful to state was not to be taken as a communication of his own opinion. In addition, he did not care what the Government did to him.
He was satisfied with his military career. In the early part of the war, after materially helping mobilisation, he had served with great distinction in the East, in command mostly of mounted infantry. He had subsequently so distinguished himself in the organising and transporting of troops coming and going overseas that, on the part of the lines of communication where he now commanded becoming of great importance, he knew that he had seemed the only general that could be given that command. It had become of enormous importance – these were open secrets! – because, owing to divided opinions in the Cabinet, it might at any moment be decided to move the bulk of H.M. Forces to somewhere in the East. The idea underlying this – as General Campion saw it – had at least some relation to the necessities of the British Empire and strategy embracing world politics as well as military movements – a fact which is often forgotten. There was this much to be said for it: the preponderance of British Imperial interests might be advanced as lying in the Middle and Far Easts – to the east, that is to say, of Constantinople. This might be denied, but it was a feasible proposition. The present operations on the Western front, arduous, and even creditable, as they might have been until relatively lately, were very remote from our Far-Eastern possessions and mitigated from, rather than added to, our prestige. In addition, the unfortunate display in front of Constantinople in the beginning of the war had almost eliminated our prestige with the Mohammedan races. Thus a demonstration in enormous force in any region between European Turkey and the north-western frontiers of India might point out to Mohammedans, Hindus, and other Eastern races, what overwhelming forces Great Britain, were she so minded, could put into the field. It is true that that would mean the certain loss of the war on the Western front, with corresponding loss of prestige in the West. But the wiping out of the French republic would convey little to the Eastern races, whereas we could no doubt make terms with the enemy nations, as a price for abandoning our allies that might well leave the Empire, not only intact, but actually increased in colonial extent, since it was unlikely that the enemy empires would wish to be burdened with colonies for some time.
General Campion was not overpoweringly sentimental over the idea of the abandonment of our allies. They had won his respect as fighting organisations and that, to the professional soldier, is a great deal; but still he was a professional soldier, and the prospect of widening the bounds of the British Empire could not be contemptuously dismissed at the price of rather sentimental dishonour. Such bargains had been struck before during wars involving many nations, and doubtless such bargains would be struck again. In addition, votes might be gained by the Government from the small but relatively noisy and menacing part of the British population that favoured the enemy nations.
But when it came to tactics – which it should be remembered concerns itself with the movement of troops actually in contact with enemy forces – General Campion had no doubt that that plan was the conception of the brain of a madman. The dishonour of such a proceeding must of course be considered – and its impracticability was hopeless. The dreadful nature of what would be our debacle did we attempt to evacuate the Western front might well be unknown to, or might be deliberately ignored by, the civilian mind. But the general could almost see the horrors as a picture – and, professional soldier as he was, his mind shuddered at the picture. They had by now in the country enormous bodies of troops who had hitherto not come into contact with the enemy forces. Did they attempt to withdraw these in the first place the native population would at once turn from a friendly into a bitterly hostile factor, and moving troops through hostile country is to the nth power a more lengthy matter than moving them through territory where the native populations lend a helping hand, or are at least not obstructive. They had in addition this enormous force to ration, and they would doubtless have to supply them with ammunition on the almost certain breaking through of the enemy forces. It would be impossible to do this without the use of the local railways – and the use of these would at once be prohibited. If, on the other hand, they attempted to begin the evacuation by shortening the front, the operation would be very difficult with troops who, by now, were almost solely men trained only in trench warfare, with officers totally unused to that keeping up of communications between units which is the life and breath of a retreating army. Training, in fact, in that element had been almost abandoned in the training camps where instruction was almost limited to bomb-throwing, the use of machine-guns, and other departments which had been forced on the War Office by eloquent civilians – to the almost complete neglect of the rifle. Thus at the mere hint of a retreat the enemy forces must break through and come upon the vast, unorganised, or semi-organised bodies of troops in the rear… .
The temptation for the professional soldier was to regard such a state of things with equanimity. Generals have not infrequently enormously distinguished themselves by holding up retreats from the rear when vanguard commanders have disastrously failed. But General Campion resisted the temptation of even hoping that this chance of distinguishing himself might offer
itself. He could not contemplate with equanimity the slaughter of great bodies of men under his command, and not even a successful retreating action of that description could be carried out without horrible slaughter. And he would have little hope of conducting necessarily delicate and very hurried movements with an army that, except for its rough training in trench warfare, was practically civilian in texture. So that although, naturally, he had made his plans for such an eventuality, having indeed in his private quarters four enormous paper-covered blackboards upon which he had changed daily the names of units according as they passed from his hands or came into them and became available, he prayed specifically every night before retiring to bed that the task might not be cast upon his shoulders. He prized very much his universal popularity in his command, and he could not bear to think of how the eyes of the Army would regard him as he put upon them a strain so appalling and such unbearable sufferings. He had, moreover, put that aspect of the matter very strongly in a memorandum that he had prepared in answer to a request from the home Government for a scheme by which an evacuation might be effected. But he considered that the civilian element in the Government was so entirely indifferent to the sufferings of the men engaged in these operations, and was so completely ignorant of what are military exigencies, that the words he had devoted to that department of the subject were merely wasted… .
So everything pushed him into writing confidentially to the Secretary of State for War a communication that he knew must be singularly distasteful to a number of the gentlemen who would peruse it. He chuckled indeed as he wrote, the open door behind him and the sunlight pouring in on his radiant figure. He said:
‘Sit down, Tietjens. Levin, I shall not want you for ten minutes,’ without raising his head, and went on writing. It annoyed him that, from the corner of his eye, he could see that Tietjens was still standing, and he said rather irritably: ‘Sit down, sit down… .’