DEATH IS ETERNAL #425

2,000 words

Another week, another DEATH IS ETERNAL. I don’t have a lot to say here, so let’s just dive right into the contents.

Contents

1. KLARA’S LETTERS

2. Bye!

3. Life (from October 28 to November 10, 2024)

4. Reviews #345 and #346: SEVEN SOLDIERS OF VICTORY by Grant Morrison, J. H. Williams III, and others and JOKER: FOLIE À DEUX

5. The end

1. KLARA’S LETTERS

Photo by Leyre on Unsplash

It was a quiet October morning in Vienna. In the grand halls of the Schönbrunn Palace, Count Wilhelm von Hochberg fidgeted with his gloves, adjusting them unnecessarily. The air inside was tense, with hushed whispers and the clipped heels of military boots echoing off the marble floors. Today, the Treaty of Vienna would be signed, ending the Second Schleswig War, a conflict that had drawn both Austrian and Prussian forces into the bloody struggle for dominance over the Duchies of Schleswig, Holstein, and Lauenburg.

Count Wilhelm’s nerves stemmed not from the political stakes—those were clear enough—but from a letter clutched in his other hand. It was from his young sister, Klara, who had been stationed as a nurse in Schleswig under the newly formed Red Cross. Her letter was filled with terse descriptions of field hospitals, of fever and blood, of boys hardly old enough to lift a rifle, caught in the brutal chaos of war. Each word weighed heavily, a painful reminder that while he stood here, immaculate in his pressed uniform, others paid the price on muddy battlefields.

But there was ore. Klara’s letter hinted at something else: a growing respect, even affection, for a Danish soldier under her care, a young man named Niels Jensen. Wilhelm had little tolerance for sentimentality, especially in matters of war, yet the thought of his sister entangled with someone from the opposing side struck him as both dangerous and absurd.

The heavy doors opened, and the assembly hushed as the Austrian and Prussian delegations entered, along with the Danish representatives. Wilhelm felt the urge to close his eyes and steel himself against the history being forged here, but he kept his gaze forward. One could hardly ignore the symbolism: Vienna, the heart of the old order, was hosting a treaty that would cede Schleswig and Holstein to the Prussian powers, marking yet another shift in the convoluted balance of Europe.

The Danish delegation, led by Ministerial Secretary Johan Worsaae, approached the table. Worsaae’s face was impassive, his mouth a thin, tight line. Wilhelm thought of Klara’s words, of her description of the Danish soldiers’s tenacity, the way they held the line despite knowing it was hopeless. It was that same unbreakable spirit he saw in Worsaae’s face now, a quiet defiance.

“We meet here to conclude the matter of Schleswig,” the Prussian Chancellor, Otto von Bismarck, began, his voice filling the chamber.

Wilhelm’s mind wandered as the terms of the treaty were read. Denmark would cede Schleswig, Holstein, and Lauenburg to Prussia and Austria, though the island of Ærø would remain Danish. Prussia would govern Schleswig, Austria Holstein—at least until the Gastein Convention of the following year. This division, this tenuous partnership, was unlikely to last, Wilhelm thought. Even now, he sensed the friction between the two great powers simmering beneath the surface.

As the Danish delegation looked on, stony-faced, Wilhelm’s gaze fell on one man, perhaps no older than twenty-five, who clutched a small cross around his neck. His eyes were clouded as if he bore the weight of something unspeakable. Wilhelm felt a strange pang in his chest. How many young men had his sister described like that? Soldiers broken by the things they had seen, the things they could never say?

At least the treaty was signed. The papers lay on the table, ink glistening in the lamplight, binding two nations in an uneasy condominium over the territories.

After the formalities, Wilhelm found himself beside Worsaae, who seemed lost in thought. “A heavy burden for any nation to bear,” Wilhelm offered, breaking the silence.

Worsaae looked at him, surprised. “We all bear it, do we not?” His voice was even, but his eyes betrayed a hint of bitterness. “I have two brothers in Schleswig. Only one will come home.”

Wilhelm’s throat tightened. “My sister,” he began, hesitant, “she wrote of tending to your soldiers. She is a nurse with the Red Cross.”

Worsaae’s face softened. “They are in good hands then. I have heard much about the kindness of the Red Cross nurses. It is a rare thing to see mercy in war.”

Wilhelm nodded. Klara’s face flashed in his mind, her calm persistence, her steady hands. How odd it seemed to him now that the woman who had once braided his hair to tease him had become this figure of resilience, a testament to compassion in a world bent on tearing itself apart.

Worsaae continued his voice barely a whisper. “This treaty may end the war, but the scars left by Schleswig... those may never heal.”

A strange resolve grew within Wilhelm. The treaty, the ink, the signatures—it all seemed hollow now, a mere formality compared to the flesh and blood that had been spilled. He glanced once more at the Danish delegation and noticed the young soldier with the cross standing slightly apart, his head bowed. For a moment, Wilhelm saw not an enemy but a young man like Niels Jensen, like Klara’s friend, one of thousands swept up in something they never asked for.

A month later, Wilhelm received another letter from Klara. Her words conveyed a quiet grief but also a hint of joy. Niels Jensen had survived his injuries, and, against the odds, he had found a way back to Denmark. She would not see him again, but she cherished the time they had shared. She also wrote of the Danish soldiers conscripted into the Prussian army, forced to serve an empire that saw them only as subjects, not as men with families and lives.

Wilhelm felt the weight of her words. How many more Niels Jensen would be lost in wars yet to come? How many more lives traded in the service of political ambition?

Years later, the echoes of that question would haunt him as the Austro-Prussian War erupted, casting the alliance between Austria and Prussia into the flames of conflict. Wilhelm could only hope that Klara’s letters, filled with tales of healing rather than hatred, would continue to remind him—and perhaps others—of the humanity lost and gained in war.

As he walked through the halls of Schönbrunn one last time before returning to Prussia, Wilhelm pressed Klara’s letter close to his heart. The words were smudged, the paper worn, but in them, he found a fragile hope. Though the Treaty of Vienna might end one war, the struggle to remember mercy amid destruction would continue, a silent battle fought in the hearts of those who, like his sister, refused to let the flames of hatred consume them.

The end

2. Bye!

Here’s where we say our farewell to the free subscribers. If you want to read the rest of DEATH IS ETERNAL, consider becoming a paying subscriber. If you already are a paying subscriber, first of all, thank you very, very much! And second, I’ll see you on the other side of the paywall.