The French senator and the American statesman, as they sat side by side, had been for five minutes engaged in a confidential conversation. Then the Frenchman arose, and tapping on his glass to call the attention of the Table Round, spoke as follows:—
“I ask your hearing for a proposal.” All came to silence. With the refined, quiet manner of a diplomatist he went on:—“My honored friend, sitting next to me, whose statesmanlike services for the cause of peace are known to all of you, and I, have just been talking over an idea which has been suggested by the political news so unanimously commented upon in our midst. The war of the future, so long predicted, stands before our door: not so near that it may surprise us at any hour, but still near enough to make us mobilize without delay all the forces that can be used to ward it off.”
“Hear, hear!” cried John Toker, with flashing eyes.
“There are people who desire this war—especially among the officers and general-staff circles, with whom such a desire is part of their profession—and there are people who do not want it. Now the question is, which of these two groups will have the preponderance? The masses, for the most part, wherever there is any thought at all, belong to the second group, but they are dumb and as yet powerless—I say as yet powerless, for the day may come, and now seems not so very far away, when this will no longer be the case. But to-day the power of decision still lies in the hands of the few. Among these few some are for war—some are against it. Here also those who are against it are already more numerous; but the others have higher positions and more influence. What we have to do, then, is to weigh down the scales against the war with the weight of public opinion and the combined pressure of widely renowned and highly respected names. And now comes our proposition.”
He paused to drink a swallow of water. The others gave eager attention. Helmer also, who had been till that moment absorbed in his own thoughts, was now listening attentively:—
“Ladies and gentlemen,” continued the senator, “we possess here—thanks to the genius and the millions of our host—it is good when these two are combined—an apparatus for publicity of marvelous efficacy. What we say here is sent by wireless telegraphy circling round the world; it is taken up by ten thousand rotary presses, is repeated by ten thousand phonographs, is preserved in all the libraries and archives in existence. So much for the echo. And now for the weight. Let us put aside false modesty; the Knighthood of the Rose must be conscious and ought to be conscious of its noble rank, in order to be forever mindful of the work to which it is pledged. John Toker summons only his contemporaries of world-wide reputation; only those who through their art, their scientific abilities, their inventions, their political activities,—particularly their service in the politics of peace,—have served all men, and therefore possess universal authority. Just as in every great country there is the upper ten thousand of the aristocracy, so we—once more I say, away with false modesty!—form the world’s half-hundred of talent.”
Toker clapped his hands; the others began to do the same, but the speaker stretched out his arm in a deprecating gesture and proceeded:—
“We have here a tribune which is visible from all the civilized places of the earth; our voices ring out as from a gigantic gramophone. So let us raise these voices in a solemn protest. Let us on the last evening, instead of indulging, as usually is prearranged on such occasions, in rhetorical and artistic performances,—let us attempt an act of rescue. Let us, in a tone of thunder, call a halt to this disaster! This disaster is no elementary catastrophe beyond the power of the human will; it is an action commanded by rulers and executed by the nations, and it must not be commanded and it must not be executed. If all see clearly how things lie, and if all have the opportunity to express their will, the ‘Halt!’ sounding forth from here can swell up into an irresistible negative. The threatening war—we all know what an insignificant controversy is at the bottom of it—can be averted either by mediation or by an appeal to the Court of Arbitration. If this is not done, if the Fury—a Fury armed with fangs, fins, and jaws, and now also with wings—is again let loose, then it will kindle a world-conflagration. We will to-day give the world a clear demonstration of the case; we will put forth an energetic demand for mediation or arbitration; we want to raise a strong protest against an easy or an intentional sufferance of the catastrophe. In all the centers, where our message penetrates, opportunity is offered for all the leaders and all the consenting masses to unite; and the word uttered here may swell up into a plebiscite that will encompass the earth. Is this your sentiment, Mr. Toker?—do you agree to this, gentlemen?”
Toker, who sat opposite the speaker, bent across and shook both his hands.
“Is that my sentiment! One more mine laid!”