Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3817/The Heroes
Once upon a time, many years ago—how many I cannot say, but certainly it must have been before the Christian era—there lived a sublime Emperor. After being for long the warmest, if platonic, friend of Peace, and forcing the world to listen to his loud protestations of fidelity, he suddenly surprised his hearers by declaring war.
It was shortly after the opening of hostilities that he was seated on his throne presenting awards of merit to the bravest of his brave soldiers. The hall was filled with martial enthusiasm, and the memorable scene was one in which splendour, animation and the confidence of rectitude were equally notable.
The Emperor's noble Vizier, to whose massive mind treaties were of no more consequence than waste paper, stood at the side of his Imperial Master to act as introducer of the gallant soldiers whose exploits (with which the world was ringing) it had been decided to reward although so early in the campaign—pour encourager les autres.
"The first decorations," remarked the Vizir, "are for deeds of signal courage."
He motioned to a stalwart warrior. "This noble son of the Empire," he said, "with his own bow shot six non-combatants within as many minutes."
Loud cheers rent the air.
"Three of them," the Vizier continued, "were women."
Louder cheers.
"The other three were old men over seventy."
Immense enthusiasm.
"This determined hacker-through," the Vizier continued, as another giant stood forth, "shot an unarmed priest."
More enthusiasm.
"And," added the Vizier, "burned his temple."
Amid the plaudits of the flower of the State the monarch affixed the cherished tokens to the heroes' breasts. "My Braves!" he exclaimed. "In the name of the Fatherland I thank you."
Another warrior stepped out and saluted.
"And what, my friend," asked the monarch, "did you do?"
"Nothing, Sire," he replied with the unaffected simplicity of the man of action; "I merely stamped on some little children—twins, I think."
"Two medals for that," said the Emperor with ready wit, and there was not a wet eye as he placed them in their proud position.
The Vizier beckoned to a youthful officer on whose lip the down was hardly yet visible. But though young in years he was already every inch a soldier of his country.
"This gallant gentleman," said the Vizier, "unaided, and at great personal risk, shot a baby in arms."
"In arms?" asked the monarch sharply. "Surely that mitigates the heroism?"
"I meant in its mother's arms," the Vizier hastily explained.
"Ah!" said the Emperor with a sigh of relief, "that reassures me." And amid profound excitement he embraced the soldier, pinned the coveted badge to his breast and bade him quickly return to the front to carry on the great work.
"The next reward is for resource in emergency," said the master of ceremonies an hour or so later. He beckoned to a superb officer, splendid in his trappings—a blue-eyed colossus of nearly six-feet-six.
"This highborn Captain," said the Vizier, "snatched some women from their beds and pushed them before his men so that the enemy should not shoot."
The hall resounded with applause.
"'Twas a brilliant thought," said the Emperor. "Not only will we decorate him for intelligence, but for valour."
"The last is for chivalry, Sire," said the master of the ceremonies, indicating the remaining award.
An officer stood forth.
"This warrior," said the Vizier, "ordered his men to trample down some public flower-beds in the enemy's capital."
"Bravely done," said the Emperor. "A great and imaginative lesson. We'll learn them to resist invasion!"
Amid renewed demonstrations of loyalty and fervour the Emperor brought the proceedings to a close.
"Among so many deeds of valour," he said, "I find it impossible to say which is the most splendid. All are glorious. I am in a position to assure you that Heaven is proud of you. The Fatherland also is proud of you, and, above all, I am proud of you. May the blessings of Heaven continue to fall upon our great and merciful campaign for the right!"
With these words the proceedings terminated and the heroes hurried back to the fighting line, eager to win more laurels by similar feats of culture.