Chapter 1 No.1

In Washington, on the 6th of April last, business was suspended from mid-day onwards, while President McKinley and all the high officers of State attended the public funeral at Arlington Cemetery of several hundred soldiers, brought home from the battlefields of Cuba. The burial ground on the heights of Arlington-the old Virginian home, by the way, of the Lee family-had hitherto been known as the resting-place of numbers of Northern soldiers, killed in the Civil War.

But among the bodies committed to earth that afternoon were those of many Southerners, who had stood and fallen side by side with their Northern comrades at El Caney and San Juan. The significance of the event was widely felt and commented upon. "Henceforth," said one paper, "the graves at Arlington will constitute a truly national cemetery;" and the same note was struck in a thousand other quarters. Poets burst into song at the thought of their

"Resting together side by side,

Comrades in blue and grey!

"Healed in the tender peace of time,

The wounds that once were red

With hatred and with hostile rage,

While sanguined brothers bled.

"They leaped together at the call

Of country-one in one,

The soldiers of the Northern hills,

And of the Southern sun!

"'Yankee' and 'Rebel,' side by side,

Beneath one starry fold-

To-day, amid our common tears,

Their funeral bells are tolled."

The artlessness of these verses renders them none the less significant. They express a popular sentiment in popular language. But, as here expressed, it is clearly the sentiment of the North: how far is it shared and acknowledged by the South? Happening to be on the spot, I could not but try to obtain some sort of answer to this question.

Again, as I stood on the terrace of the Capitol that April afternoon, and looked out across the Potomac to the old Lee mansion at Arlington, while all the flags of Washington drooped at half-mast, a very different piece of verse somehow floated into my memory:

"Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor,

For 'alf o' Creation she owns:

We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword and the flame,

And salted it down with our bones.

(Poor beggars!-it's blue with our bones!)"

The association was obvious: how the price of lead would go up if England brought home all her dead "heroes" in hermetically-sealed caskets! My thought (so an anti-Imperialist might say) was like the smile of the hardened freebooter at the amiable sentimentalism of a comrade who was "yet but young in deed." But why should Mr. Kipling's rugged lines have cropped up in my memory rather than the smoother verses of other poets, equally familiar to me, and equally well fitted to point the contrast?-for instance, Mr. Housman's:-

"It dawns in Asia, tombstones show,

And Shropshire names are read;

And the Nile spills his overflow

Beside the Severn's dead."

Or Mr. Newbolt's:

"Qui procul hinc-the legend's writ,

The frontier grave is far away;

Qui ante diem periit,

Sed miles, sed fro patria."

The reason simply was that during the month I had spent in America the air had been filled with Kipling. His name was the first I had heard uttered on landing-by the conductor of a horse-car. Men of light and leading, and honourable women not a few, had vied with each other in quoting his refrains; and I had seen the crowded audience at a low music-hall stirred to enthusiasm by the delivery of a screed of maudlin verses on his illness. He, the rhapsodist of the red coat, was out and away the most popular poet in the country of the blue, and that at a time when the blue coat in itself was inimitably popular. Nor could there be any doubt that his Barrack-room Ballads were the most popular of his works. Not a century had passed since the Tommy Atkins of that day had burnt the Capitol on whose steps I was standing (a shameful exploit, to which I allude only to point the contrast); and here was the poet of Tommy Atkins so idolised by the grandsons of the men of 1812 and 1776, that I, a Briton and a staunch admirer of Kipling, had almost come to resent as an obsession the ubiquity of his name!

It seemed then, that the rancour of the blue coat against the red must have dwindled no less significantly than the rancour of the grey coat against the blue. Into the reality of this phenomenon, too, I made it my business to inquire.

* * *

You'll also like

His Unwanted Wife, The World's Coveted Genius

Derk Blaylock

4.2

Rumors said that Lucas married an unattractive woman with no background. In the three years they were together, he remained cold and distant to Belinda, who endured in silence. Her love for him forced her to sacrifice her self-worth and her dreams. When Lucas' true love reappeared, Belinda realized that their marriage was a sham from the start, a ploy to save another woman's life. She signed the divorce papers and left. Three years later, Belinda returned as a surgical prodigy and a maestro of the piano. Lost in regret, Lucas chased her in the rain and held her tightly. "You are mine, Belinda."

The Sterling Scandal: Married To The Uncle

C.D

4.5

I was at my own engagement party at the Sterling estate when the world started tilting. Victoria Sterling, my future mother-in-law, smiled coldly as she watched me struggle with a cup of tea that had been drugged to ruin me. Before I could find my fiancé, Ryan, a waiter dragged me into the forbidden West Wing and locked me in a room with Julian Sterling, the family’s "fallen titan" who had been confined to a wheelchair for years. The door burst open to a frenzy of camera flashes and theatrical screams. Victoria framed me as a seductress caught in the act, and Ryan didn't even try to listen to my pleas, calling me "cheap leftovers" before walking away with his pregnant mistress. When I turned to my own family for help, my father signed a document severing our relationship for a five-million-dollar payout from Julian. They traded me like a commodity without a second thought. I didn't understand why my own parents were so eager to sell me, or how Ryan could look at me with such disgust after promising me forever. I was a sacrifice, a pawn used to protect the family's offshore accounts, and I couldn't fathom how every person I loved had a price tag for my destruction. With nowhere left to go, I married Julian in a bleak ceremony at City Hall. He slid a heavy diamond onto my finger and whispered, "We have a war to start." That night, inside his secret penthouse, I watched the paralyzed man stand up from his wheelchair and activate a screen filled with the Sterling family's darkest secrets. The execution had officially begun.

She Was The Joke, Now She's The Queen

Lila Wren

4.6

Two years of marriage left Brinley questioning everything, her supposed happiness revealed as nothing but sham. Abandoning her past for Colin, she discovered only betrayal and a counterfeit wedding. Accepting his heart would stay frozen, she called her estranged father, agreeing to the match he proposed. Laughter followed her, with whispers of Colin's power to toss her aside. Yet, she reinvented herself-legendary racer, casino mastermind, and acclaimed designer. When Colin tried to reclaim her, another man pulled Brinley close. "She's already carrying my child. You can't move on?"

He Chose First Love, I Chose the Alpha King

Aurora

4.1

I gave him three years of silent devotion behind a mask I never wanted to wear. I made a wager for our bond-he paid me off like a mistress. "Chloe's back," Zane said coldly. "It's over." I laughed, poured wine on his face, and walked away from the only love I'd ever known. "What now?" my best friend asked. I smiled. "The real me returns." But fate wasn't finished yet. That same night, Caesar Conrad-the Alpha every wolf feared-opened his car door and whispered, "Get in." Our gazes collided. The bond awakened. No games. No pretending. Just raw, unstoppable power. "Don't regret this," he warned, lips brushing mine. But I didn't. Because the mate I'd been chasing never saw me. And the one who did? He's ready to burn the world for me.

Too Late, Hubby, I'm The Tycoon's Darling Now!

James Hawke

5.0

For three years, Averie pushed herself through a secret marriage, waiting for the day she could finally wear a white dress and be seen as his wife. The night before she could finally walk down the aisle, he confessed without a hint of hesitation that he was marrying the woman who once rescued him instead. The "fake" divorce agreement she signed for him shattered into a real, icy breakup that finally freed her wounded heart. When he returned in remorse, begging for just one more chance, a ruthless business magnate pulled Averie close and muttered coldly, "You're too late. She's my woman now."

I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

Jessica C. Dolan

4.9

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.

America To-day, Observations and Reflections

Contents