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CHAPTER LV.
WHICH TREATS OF HOW THE PRIESTS BORE THE PUNISHMENT; AND ALSO A
DESCRIPTION OF THE EVER-MEMORABLE BATTLE OF THE MIRACLE.
WITH great reverence be it said of the priests, that they did
penance, mounted after the style ordered in the foregoing chapter,
for many days and with such fortitude as gained them the good will
of many of their enemies in war. "The height of our perfection in
grace," said one of the priests, as his ass went the round of the
circle, "may be measured by the ease with which we can humble
ourselves. And while we are chanting to these filthy fellows, let us
not despair, but commend ourselves to heaven, praying that it will
so ordain that our country be soon rid of this scourge; for though
these fellows make promises enough with their lips, their hearts are
full of treachery."
"Heaven help me!" exclaimed another, "for I am not accustomed to
this punishment, and bear it with a tribulation I would thank heaven
to be relieved from." In short, though they bore the punishment with
remarkable fortitude, these ring performances were in no very high
favor with them. Itching then for a chance to escape, and taking
advantage of a moment one day when the "allied forces" (generals
included,) were fast asleep, they clapped heels to their asses, and
coursing down the road at full speed, were soon safe within the
town, where high-mass was offered up for their deliverance, though
not a word was lisped concerning the asses, which they wisely kept
as an offset to their sufferings. And now when the allied generals
awoke from their slumbers, and found the priests gone, they took it
grievously to heart; for while they could ill afford to lose the
asses, the priests would be sure to give the enemy such information
as would be of great advantage to him.
A day passed and both armies were seen preparing for battle. But as
neither had the smallest piece of artillery, and but a shabby
display of cavalry mounted on lean asses, General Potter consoled
himself that a victory could be gained without any great display of
generalship: in short that, being commander in chief, it was only
necessary for him to retire to a safe distance, where, like the
famous Persian warrior, he could look serenely on while the armies
battered each other to their heart's content.
It was early one bright morning then that a report spread through
the allied camp, announcing the near approach of the enemy. True
enough, the army was distinctly seen, advancing at a rapid pace, the
King at its head, mounted on a mule, and surrounded by at least a
score of priests mounted on lean asses. And so numerous was the
King's army that the very hills around Nezub seemed black with
moving figures. Seeing how matters stood the allied generals quickly
mounted their steeds; and equally quick was the army in order and
impatient for battle. And when the enemy had advanced near enough to
let his teeth be seen, he halted. It was now evident that both
army's were weighing the terrible consequences that were to result
from this great battle, for they stood for some time making grimaces
at each other, very like New York aldermen. Then sundry horns began
to sound, and drums to beat. And this, strange as it may seem to
those of my readers who may have admired the general good qualities
of this singularly faithful animal, so disturbed old Battle's
equanimity that he made several attempts to bring his master to the
ground: indeed he became so fractious that the general again found
it necessary to resign the honor of fighting this great battle to
Don Perez Goneti, since the management of his horse was quite enough
for the head of any one general. The reserve of the Kaloramas now
appeared in the distance, emerging from every conceivable point, and
sending up such yells as would have sent terror to the heart of
anything but a vagabond army. And while the reserves shouted in the
distance, the line opened fire upon the allied army, the generals of
which were giving out such a confusion of orders as would have
bewildered the most experienced soldiers. Not a hair did the
vagabond army budge, but returned the enemy's fire with such vigor
that his whole line was speedily in disorder. Charges and retreats
were now kept up with wonderful spirit on the part of the vagabonds,
though not a single dead body ornamented the field, which was saying
no little, considering that this great battle was to decide the fate
of a kingdom. And when I inform the reader that cries, groans, and
piercing imprecations mingled with the clash of arms, and gave the
conflict an air of ferocity it would be impossible to describe, the
kindly feature of its result, which I am about to describe, will
appear the more astounding.
Notwithstanding Commander Potter kept at a safe distance from the
bullets, his horse, Battle, took it into his head to play him a very
shabby trick, and which my love for the truth of history constrains
me to record. Wonderful then as it may seem to those experienced in
war, this little prank of the faithful steed ended the term of his
own life and, as if by a miracle, gave the victory to the allies.
And it was done in this manner. A bountiful providence, as if
foreseeing the sanguinary character of the struggle that was to take
place on this spot, had provided it with a quag-mire of considerable
depth, and so covered its surface with soft, green moss, as to
conceal its real character. It was on the margin of this mire then
that General Potter took up his position; and just in the very
hottest of the battle, a bee chanced that way in search of flowers,
and lighting just under old Battle's tail, so goaded him with its
sting that he sprang forward, and then halted with such a sudden
motion as to vault the general over his head, and into the mire, his
head and three-cornered hat only remaining above the surface. Having
served his master this shabby trick, old Battle took to his heels,
and dashing down the enemy's lines, sent such a thrill of terror to
the hearts of the superstitious Kaloramas as made them scamper for
dear life. In truth they fancied him the pale horse of the devil, so
often described to them by the priests. Dashing onward with
increased speed and wildness, the bewildered animal ran with great
force upon the King's mule, prostrating animal and rider dead upon
the ground, and, in sorrow and tears do I record it, breaking his
own neck. Thus was the interposition of providence displayed in all
its bounties, and an end put to a battle which, had it continued,
there is no estimating the consequences. As it was, the King, old
Battle, and the mule alone paid the penalty of their temerity, and
lay dead upon the field. Thus ended the great battle of the Miracle.
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Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis
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