The Witness by Grace Livingston Hill Lutz (mobi reader android TXT) 📕

Chapter 24 Pg 145

    4. To The Peasants: Fathers And Brothers! Bring Your Last Mite To

    Help The Weakening Front! Give Us Bread,  And Oats And Hay To Our

    Horses. Remember That The Future Russia Will Be Yours!

 

    5. Comrades-Intellectuals! Come To Us And Bring The Light Of

    Knowledge Into Our Dark Trenches! Share With Us The Difficult Work

    Of Advancing Russia's Freedom And Prepare Us For The Citizenship

    Of New Russia!

 

    6. To The Russian Women: Support Your Husbands And Sons In The

    Performing Of Their Civil Duty To The Country! Replace Them Where

    This Is Not Beyond Your Strength! Let Your Scorn Drive Away All

    Those Who Are Slackers In These Difficult Times!

 

No One Can Read This Declaration Without A Deep Sense Of The Lofty And

Sincere Citizenship Of The Brave Men Who Adopted It As Their Expression.

The Fundamental Loyalty Of These Leaders Of The Common Soldiers,  Their

Spokesmen And Delegates,  Is Beyond Question. Pardonably Weary Of A War In

Which They Had Been More Shamefully Betrayed And Neglected Than Any Other

Army In Modern Times,  Frankly Suspicious Of Capitalist Governments Which

Had Made Covenants With The Hated Romanov Dynasty,  They Were Still Far From

Being Ready To Follow The Leadership Of Bolsheviki. They Had,  Instead,

Adopted The Sanely Constructive Policy Of Tchcheidze,  Tseretelli,  Skobelev,

Plechanov,  And Other Socialists Who From The First Had Seen The Great

Struggle In Its True Perspective. That They Did Not Succeed In Averting

Disaster Is Due In Part To The Fact That The Revolution Itself Had Come Too

Late To Make Military Success Possible,  And In Part To The Failure Of The

Governments Allied With Russia To Render Intelligent Aid.

 

 

 

 

Vii

 

The Provisional Government Was Reorganized. Before We Consider The Actions

Of The All-Russian Congress Of Peasants' Delegates,  One Of The Most

Important Gatherings Of Representatives Of Russian Workers Ever Held,  The

Reorganization Of The Provisional Government Merits Attention. On The 17th,

At A Special Sitting Of The Duma,  Guchkov And Miliukov Explained Why They

Had Resigned. Guchkov Made It A Matter Of Conscience. Anarchy Had Entered

Into The Administration Of The Army And Navy,  He Said: "In The Way Of

Reforms The New Government Has Gone Very Far. Not Even In The Most

Democratic Countries Have The Principles Of Self-Government,  Freedom,  And

Equality Been So Extensively Applied In Military Life. We Have Gone

Somewhat Farther Than The Danger Limit,  And The Impetuous Current Drives Us

Farther Still.... I Could Not Consent To This Dangerous Work; I Could Not

Chapter 24 Pg 146

Deterioration Of Our Military Forces. A Country,  And Especially An Army,

Cannot Be Administered On The Principles Of Meetings And Conferences."

 

Miliukov Told His Colleagues Of The Duma That He Had Not Resigned Of His

Own Free Will,  But Under Pressure: "I Had To Resign,  Yielding Not To Force,

But To The Wish Of A Considerable Majority Of My Colleagues. With A Clear

Conscience I Can Say That I Did Not Leave On My Own Account,  But Was

Compelled To Leave." Nevertheless,  He Said,  The Foreign Policy He Had

Pursued Was The Correct One. "You Could See For Yourselves That My Activity

In Foreign Politics Was In Accord With Your Ideas," He Declared Amid

Applause Which Eloquently Testified To The Approval With Which The

Bourgeoisie Regarded Policies And Tendencies Which The Proletariat

Condemned. He Pointed Out That The Pacifist Policies Of Zimmerwald And

Keinthal Had Permeated A Large Part Of The Socialist Movement,  And That The

Soviet,  The Councils Of Workmen's And Soldiers' Delegates,  Claiming Tong At It Now,  With The Possible Hypothesis That It Was

The Word Of God,  All Was Changed.

 

He Remembered Once Seeing A Tray Of Gems In An Exhibit,  And Among Them

One That Looked Like A Common Pebble. The Man Who Had Charge Of The

Exhibit Took The Little Pebble And Held It In The Palm Of His Hand For A

Moment,  When It Suddenly Began To Glow And Sparkle With All The Colors

Of The Rainbow And Rival All The Other Gems. The Man Explained That Only

The Warmth Of The Human Hand Could Cause This Marvelous Change. You

Might Lay The Stone Under The Direct Rays Of A Summer Sun,  Yet It Would

Have No Effect Until You Took It In Your Hand,  When It Would Give Forth

Its Beauty Once More.

 

It Was Like This When He Began To Read The Bible With The Idea That It

Was The Word Of God. Things Flashed Out At Him That Fairly Dazzled His

Thoughts; Living,  Palpitating Things,  As If They Were Hidden Of A

Purpose To Be Discovered Only By Him Who Cared To Search. Hidden Truths

Came To Light That Filled His Soul With Wonder. Gradually He Understood

That Belief Was The Touchstone By Which All These Treasures Were To Be

Revealed. Everywhere He Found It,  That Belief In Christ Was A Condition

To All The Blessings Promised. He Read Of Hearts Hardened And Eyes

Blinded Because Of Unbelief,  And Came To See That Unbelief Was Something

A Man Was Responsible For,  Not A Condition Which Settled Down Upon Him,

And He Could Not Help. Belief Was A Deliberate Act Of The Will. It Was

Not A Theory,  Nor An Intellectual Affirmation; It Was A Position Taken,

Which Necessarily Must Pass Into Action Of Some Kind. He Began To See

That Without This Deliberate Belief It Was Impossible For Man To Know

The Things Which Are Purely Spiritual. It Was The Condition Necessary

For Revelation. He Was Fascinated With The Pursuit Of This New Study.

 

Wittemore Came To His Room One Evening,  His Face Grayer,  More Strained

And Horse-Like Than Ever. Wittemore's Mother Had Made Another Partial

Recovery And Insisted On His Return To College. He Was Plodding

Patiently,  Breathlessly Along In His Classes,  Trying To Catch Up Again.

He Had Paid Courtland Back Part Of The Money He Borrowed,  And Was

Gradually Paying The Rest In Small Instalments. Courtland Hated To Take

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It,  But Saw That It Would Hurt Him To Refuse It; So He Had Fallen Into A

Habit Of Stopping Now And Then To Talk About His Settlement Work,  Just

To Show A Little Friendly Interest In Him. Wittemore Had Responded With

A Quiet Wistfulness And A Patient Hovering In The Background That

Touched The Other Man's Heart Deeply.

 

"I've Just Come From My Rounds," Said Wittemore,  Sitting Down,

Apologetically,  On The Edge Of A Chair. "That Old Lady You Carried The

Medicine To--She's Been Telling Me How You Made Tea And Toast!" He

Paused And Looked Embarrassed.

 

"Yes," Smiled Courtland. "How's She Getting On? Any Better?"

 

"No," Said Wittemore,  The Hopeless Gray Look Settling About His

Sensitive Mouth. "She'll Never Be Any Better. She's Dying!"

 

"Well," Said Courtland,  "That'll Be A Pleasant Change For Her,  I Guess."

 

Wittemore Winced. Death Had No Pleasant Associations For Him. "She Told

Me You Prayed For Her! She Wants You To Do It Again!"

 

It Was Plain He Thought The Praying Had Been A Sort Of Joke With

Courtland.

 

Courtland Looked Up,  The Color Rising Slowly In His Face. He Saw The

Accusation In Wittemore's Sad Eyes.

 

"Of Course I Know What You Think Of Such Things. I've Heard You In The

Class. I Don't Believe In Them Any More Myself,  Either,  Now."

Wittemore's Voice Had A Trail Of Hopelessness In It. "But Somehow I

Couldn't Quite Bring Myself To Make A Mockery Of Prayer,  Even To Please

That Old Woman. You See _My Mother Still Believes In Prayer_!" He Spoke

Apologetically,  As Of A Dear One Who Had Lacked Advantages.

 

"But _I Do_ Believe In Prayer!" Said Courtland,  Earnestly. "What You

Heard Me Say In Class Was Before I Understood."

 

"Before You Understood?" Wittemore Looked Puzzled.

 

"Listen,  Wittemore. Things Are All Different Now. I've Met Jesus Christ

And I've Got My Eyes Open. I Was Blind Before,  But Since I've Felt The

Presence Everything Has Been Different."

 

And Then He Told The Story Of His Experience. He Did Not Make A Long

Story Of It. He Gave Brief Facts,  And When It Was Finished Wittemore

Dropped His Face Into His Hands And Groaned:

 

"I'd Give Anything If I Could Believe All That Again," Came From Between

His Long Bony Fingers. "It's Breaking My Mother's Heart To Have Me Leave

The Faith!"

 

The Slick Hay-Like Hair Fell In Wisps Over His Hands,  His High,  Bony

Shoulders Were Hunched Despairingly Over Courtland's Study Table. He Was

A Great,  Pitiful Object.

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Closet For His Overcoat. "It's Up To You,  You Know. You _Can_! God Can't

Do It For You,  And Of Course There's Nothing Doing Till You've Taken

That Step. I Found That Out!"

 

"But How Do You Reconcile Things,  Calamities,  Disasters,  War,  Suffering,

That Poor Old Woman Lying On Her Attic Bed Alone? How Do You Reconcile

That With The Goodness Of God?"

 

"I Don't Reconcile It. It Isn't My Business. I Leave That To God. If I

Understood All The Whys And Wherefores Of How This Universe Is Run I'd

Be Great Enough To Be A God Myself."

 

"But If God Is Omniscient I Can't See How He Can Let Some Things Go On!

He Must Be Limited In Power Or He'd Never Let Some Things Happen If He's

A Good God!" Wittemore's Voice Had A Plaintive Sound.

 

"Well,  How Do You Know That? In The First Place,  How Can You Be Sure

What Is A Calamity? And Say,  Did It Ever Strike You That Some Of The

Things We Blame On God Are Really Up To Us? He's Handed Over His Power

For Us To Do Things,  And We Haven't Seen It That Way; So The Things Go

Undone And God Is Charged With The Consequences."

 

"I Wish I Could Believe That!" Said Wittemore.

 

"You Can! When You Really Want To,  Enough,  You Will! Come On,  Let's Get

That Prayer Down To The Old Lady! I'm Sort Of An Amateur Yet,  But I'll

Do My Best."

 

They Went Out Into The Mist And Murk Of A Spring Thaw. Wittemore