“Oh, gentlemen,” said Vera Petrovna, beseechingly; “don’t be tedious; pray don’t talk politics.”
Malhof accosted Franka and Helmer, who, arm in arm, were promenading up and down the corridors. “Am I interrupting the gushing fountains of love? You will have all your lives for that, and I must express my surprise and delight. I am, indeed, a very old friend and admirer of your betrothed, dear Helmer, and I have always desired her happiness.... How unexpectedly this came upon us! Yesterday evening, while they were manipulating with radium on the platform, we three sat so cozily together, and I had not the slightest idea of your being a bridal pair. You played your cards mighty well, you young people!”
“Neither did we have the slightest idea,” protested the two in absolute sincerity.
After the half-hour’s intermission, Toker again mounted the platform—quite alone; his guests remaining below in the hall.
“It is my privilege,” he began, “to utter the last word in conclusion of this our Rose-Week. I feel myself compelled to express before the whole world my deepest thanks to the illustrious contemporaries who have come at my call. And I must also thank you, my honored audience, for the lively interest and the sympathetic reception which you have accorded our offerings.
“But let us end our coöperation not with a discourse, but rather with a deed. You all know that a war-cloud pregnant with storm is rising on the horizon. We must not allow this well-worn metaphor to strengthen the current impression that we have to deal with anything elementary; we have to deal with human intentions, with the direction of human wills. These can be paralyzed by counter-intentions, by the putting forth of still stronger wills. Such an exercise of will-power has been created in our circle: in order to make it efficient, we must use the apparatus of wide publicity which is here at our service. Two statesmen, of uncontested reputation in their service for promoting the organization of peace in the Old World and the New, have drawn up a manifesto, protesting against the letting loose of the war-demon which is planned in various quarters, and at the same time pointing out the way in which the conflict may be solved in an amicable manner. This manifesto has been signed by the entire membership of the Rose Order, and at this moment is being telegraphed to all regions of the world. If the masses agree to it, it can grow into a hurricane of public opinion. I am not going to delay you by reading the message, the paper which will now be distributed through the hall contains its text. I also refrain from any explanations; neither shall I ask you to vote. Only this I will say: If this wish, this command, this storm-cry which goes forth from here is obeyed, that is to say, if the approaching contest is submitted to arbitration, and if the decision by force is given up, though, indeed, this may not prevent the recurrence of dangers in the future, and not as yet introduce a new political order—still, time will be gained. And that is the main thing in this crisis. For in order to appreciate and to apply the new treasures which of late have been won from nature, in order to cultivate the lofty thoughts to which the human mind has already begun to attain in its flights, and in order to transform in accordance with these thoughts the intercourse, the laws, the opinions of men, in a word, the whole social life, time is above all required. A time of peaceful, quiet development. If now a world-conflagration should break out, the development would be not only delayed, but would be set back enormously—instead of a lofty flight, we should have a terrible fall! Once more a bed for the stream of hatred and horror and destruction would be excavated, and this flood might carry away with it all that has been so painfully constructed.
“One can formulate an idea of the consequences of such a conflagration by hearing what H. G. Wells tells us in his ‘War in the Air.’ ‘Oh, a piece of fiction, a romance of the future!’ Granted, it will all come out differently. No one can take account of all the millions of interweaving threads out of which the web of the future may be woven. But the poet and the thinker, if he creates such pictures, does not at all pretend prophecy. He does not predict that it will come in this way or that: he only shows how under given conditions things must come, if this way or that is chosen.
“So, then, we want to gain time!—time for the building-up of future happiness, time to rescue men from the woe that threatens. Indeed, the majority will not listen to the warning, the chiding, the aid-promising voices ... these annoying calls only disturb them in their pursuits of business, work, pleasure.... ‘Why don’t the birds of evil omen leave us alone—let things take their course—what comes must come—merely let every one see to it that he does his work where Fate puts him’ ... this is about the way in which the passive resistance expresses itself; a resistance against which all those who speak the warning words constantly stumble. But they are not to be frightened away; they cannot help themselves, they must speak.
“I will use a parable:—
“Let us imagine we are on a noble ship bound for the promised land. The journey is long. There is much work and much amusement on board of the ship. It must be steered and must be maneuvered; much promenading and flirting and reading and feasting are carried on; all are busy and each one thinks his work or his pleasures highly important.