Nineteen hundred? A forecast and a story

by Marianne Farningham

Germany had invented a new gun, which was more awful in its power than anything which had previously been dreamed of. Germany had tried to keep its own secret, but there was an uneasy feeling abroad that it had been sold by a money-loving traitor, and more than one other nation was in possession of it. England did not yet know all that she wished of the “patented” gun, and the Government was told that the secret must be purchased at any price.

But the Government hesitated. The members of this House of Commons were not for war, but very strongly against it. The men now at the head of affairs could not bear the thought of the slaughter of thousands of their brothers. They had been sent to Westminster to govern men, not to order them to be killed; and, though they could not close their ears to the clamour of the war party, they maintained an attitude of firmness that, while it gave great hope to the peaceable, irritated their opponents.

Moreover, England’s quarrel was with her neighbour, France.

Some Frenchmen had gone over a boundary and taken to themselves a bit of land, which the English had stolen a thousand years ago. They were ordered off, and refused to go, and had been so very impertinent and consequential that the English who held the bit of land had appealed for help and sworn to be revenged.

It was unfortunate that just at that time, in a little matter of trade and commerce, France was feeling irritated. Otherwise it is possible that an apology might have been offered and graciously accepted, and so the peace have been kept. But France was silent, and English Ministers were unhappy and anxious.

“This is a case for arbitration!” said the Government. And so it might have been if they could have induced the nation to keep quiet and cool for a little time. But that curious general irritability of temper which in the world’s history has so often been the cause of mischief, made the multitude impatient and impassioned at this crisis. The cry for Arbitration was loud, but the cry for War was louder. And it gathered in force, day by day, until it seemed overpowering.

It is humiliating to have to make the confession that even the Church was not unitedly and entirely for peace. A large section was overwhelmed with sorrow and disappointment on this account, and most earnestly seconded the endeavour of the Government; but the men of peace had less power than they thought they had. They made pathetic appeals to the nation, but a large part of the nation refused to be moved by them. The peace-people had soft voices, but the war-sowers were noisy and clamorous, and drowned the pacific suggestions of the others. The Government proposed that a council of arbitration should sit in Germany, and that other nations should be asked to come between the two angered peoples. But the English war party was in haste, and would not consent to the delay. “Let us pray,” became the burden of many a sermon; but “Let us fight!” was the suggestion more in keeping with the popular temper of the times.

Public pressure began to be increased. “A war would be good for trade,” some said. Religion was all very well, but it would not always do to abide by it. Besides, did not religion uphold war? Of course it did, for the Bible was a book of battles. The new leaders of the people might be deposed unless they proved themselves capable of responding to the popular wish. Some of the newspapers were to blame for the agitation. There were bloodthirsty leader-writers who were nothing less than traitors to their country at this juncture. And there were agitators who still further inflamed the passions of the people, until at last it was proposed that the “Patriotic Party”—for such the war-makers impudently called themselves—should form processions in the streets, and even storm the Houses of Parliament, and compel the Government to obey their will.

And then the Prince came forward.

There was no telling what might have happened by this time, but for the sake of this one relative of the Royal family, who, because of the true nobility of his character and great lovableness of his disposition, had been singled out from all the rest and designated significantly “The Prince.” Wherever he appeared the hearts of the people turned to him. They called him “The Good and the Great”; for he was strangely gifted in person and ability, and was, moreover, a born ruler of men. He was certain to occupy the first position in the nation by right of his singular powers, and though he kept in the background as much as possible, far-seeing men knew that, not because he was of the Royal House, but because of the kingly nature, which was God’s gift and not man’s, he was one of the lights that could not be hid. Everybody loved him, but mostly the poor, because whenever he had lifted up his voice to plead it was for them, and because he had taken the trouble to understand them. It was little wonder that he was beloved by all classes in England, for, in truth, a princely prince had arisen.