“’The Kalayans, meanwhile, had been occupied with the very same question.  They were anything but martial of mood, and the soldiery, ill at ease in their camp, grumbled and protested.  “After all, why are we here?” cried one to the other.  “Who wants to injure the Durobans?  And what man among us desires to be blown to pieces by their new instruments of war?  Pray, why should we fight?  If the great officials are angry, as the news-sheets tell us, e’en let them do the fighting themselves.”  At this moment there sounded from the enemy’s camp a stupendous roar; it was much like laughter; no doubt the Durobans were jubilant in anticipation of their victory.  Fear seized the Kalayans; they rose like one man, and incontinently fled far into the sheltering night!

“’Thus ended the war—­the last between these happy nations, who, not very long after, united to form a noble state under one ruler.  It is interesting to note that the original instigators of hostility did not go without their deserts.  The Duroban General, having been duly tried for a crime against his country, was imprisoned in a spacious building, the rooms of which were hung with great pictures representing every horror of battle with the ghastliest fidelity; here he was supplied with materials for chemical experiment, to occupy his leisure, and very shortly, by accident, blew himself to pieces.  The Kalayan publicist was also convicted of treason against the state; they banished him to a desert island, where for many hours daily he had to multiply copies of his news-sheet—­that issue which contained the declaration of war—­and at evening to burn them all.  He presently became imbecile, and so passed away.’”

Piers laughed with delight.

“Whether it ever got into print,” said Mr. Jacks, “I don’t know.  Your father was often careless about his best things.  I’m afraid he was never quite convinced that ideals of that kind influence the world.  Yet they do, you know, though it’s a slow business.  It’s thought that leads.”

“The multitude following in its own fashion,” said Piers drily.  “Rousseau teaches liberty and fraternity; France learns the lesson and plunges into ’93.”

“With Nap to put things straight again.  For all that a step was taken.  We are better for Jean Jacques—­a little better.”

“And for Napoleon, too, I suppose.  Napoleon—­a wild beast with a genius for arithmetic.”

John Jacks let his eyes rest upon the speaker, interested and amused.

“That’s how you see him?  Not a bad definition.  I suppose the truth is, we know nothing about human history.  The old view was good for working by—­Jehovah holding his balance, smiting on one side, and rewarding on the other.  It’s our national view to this day.  The English are an Old Testament people; they never cared about the New.  Do you know that there’s a sect who hold that the English are the Lost Tribes—­the People of the Promise?  I see a great deal to be