not rank it with that work, but in its sincerity and veracity it
easily ranks above any other novel treating of war which I know,
and it ought to do for the German peoples what the novels of
Erckmann-Chatrian did for the French, in at least one generation.
Will it do anything for the Anglo-Saxon peoples? Probably not
till we have pacified the Philippines and South Africa. We
Americans are still apparently in love with fighting, though the
English are apparently not so much so; and as it is always well
to face the facts, I will transfer to my page some facts of
fighting from this graphic book, which the read may apply to the
actualities in the Philippines, with a little imagination. They
are taken from a letter written to the heroine by her second
husband after one of the Austrian defeats. "The people poured
boiling water and oil on the Prussians from the windows of the
houses at ----.... The village is ours--no, it is the enemy's,
now ours again--and yet once more the enemy's; but it is no
longer a village, but a smoking mass of ruins of houses....One
family has remained behind...an old married couple and their
daughter, the latter in childbed. The husband is serving in our
regiment.... Poor devil! he got there just in time to see the
mother and child die; a shell had exploded under their bed.... I
saw a breastwork there which was formed of corpses. The
defenders had heaped all the slain who were lying near, in order,
from that rampart, to fire over at their assailants. I shall
surely never forget that wall in my life. A man who formed one
of its bricks was still alive, and was waving his arm.... What
is happening there? The execution party is drawn out. Has a spy
been caught? Seventeen this time. There they come, in four
ranks, each one of four men, surrounded by a square of soldiers.
The condemned men step out, with their heads down. Behind comes