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Updated: June 12, 2025
I was a miserable failure as Peter the Hermit and Urban II.; my Godefroy de Bouillon was pronounced to be utterly devoid of military ardour. A warlike song in Sapphic and Adonic stanzas created a more favourable impression. My refrain Sternite Turcas, a short and sharp solution of the Eastern Question, was selected for recital in public. I was too staid for these childish proceedings.
Turcas had been strongly urged in inner army circles for the place that Westerling had won, but his manner and his inability to court influence were against him A lath of a man and stiff as a lath, pale, with thin, tightly-drawn lips, quiet, steel-gray eyes, a tracery of blue veins showing on his full temples, he suggested the ascetic no less than the soldier, while his incisive brevity of speech, flavored now and then with pungent humor, without any inflection in his dry voice, was in keeping with his appearance.
Frequently it takes only an ounce more of resolution to turn the tide of battle. Hold, hold! To-morrow will tell a different story! We are going to win yet! Yes, we are going to win!" "It is for you to decide, Your Excellency," said Turcas, slowly and precisely. "You take the responsibility." "I take the responsibility. I am in command!" replied Westerling in unflinching pose.
He was in the box, the evidence stated by the prosecutor. Let him speak! He was fairly beside himself in a paroxysm of rage and struck at the air with his clenched fist. " Lanstron!" he cried. "There's no purpose in that. He can't hear you!" said Turcas, dryly as ever.
He went on sending a message, wholly oblivious of Westerling, who stumbled back into the staff room and paused inarticulate before Turcas. "The army is going resisting by units, but going. It has made its own orders!" Turcas said. The other division chiefs nodded in agreement.
"If moving pictures of the horrors of Port Arthur were to be shown in our barracks before a war, it would hardly encourage martial enthusiasm. I shall look this over and then have it issued. It will not be necessary to wait on action of the staff in council." Turcas and Bouchard exchanged another glance. They had fresh evidence of Westerling's tendency to concentrate authority in himself.
When it was taken up again his successor would be in charge. He, the indefatigable, the over-intense, with his mediæval partisan fervor, who loathed in secret machines like Turcas, was the first man of the staff to go for incompetency. "And Engadir is the key-point," Westerling was saying. "Yes," agreed Turcas.
"But the correct plans and location of their forts and the numbers of their heavy guns and of their planes and dirigibles your failure to have this information is not the result of any leak from our staff since the war began," said Turcas in his dry, penetrating voice, clearing the air of the smoke of scattered explosions. All were staring at Bouchard again. What answer had he to this?
Confidence was reflected in Westerling's bearing and in his smile of command as he passed through the staff rooms, Turcas and Bouchard in his train, with tacit approval of the arrangements. Finally, Turcas, now vice-chief of staff, and the other chiefs awaited his pleasure in the library, which was to be his sanctum. On the massive seventeenth-century desk lay a number of reports and suggestions.
Richardus Canonicus ad Trinitatis fanum Londini Regularis, ab ipsa pueritia, bonarum artium literas impense amauit, excoluit, ac didicit. Qui ex continuo labore atque exercitatione longa, talis tandem euasit orator, et Poeta, quales ea aetas rarissimos nutriebat. Ob id Richardo Anglorum tunc Regi charus, longam cum eo peregrinationem in Palaestinam ac Syriam, dum expugnaret Turcas, suscepit.
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