Of these nameless guests, two individuals alone, from the very significance of their appearance, from their plain dress, unsuited to the occasion, and from the puzzled expression of their faces, seemed out of harmony with the galaxy of distinction which surrounded them.
They seemed to speak only to one another, and even that somewhat after the fashion of an appreciative chorus to what the rest of the company was saying; while the manner in which they rubbed their hands together and hung upon the words of the other speakers in humble expectancy seemed to imply that they were present in the hope of gathering rather than shedding light. To these two humble and obsequious guests no attention whatever was paid, though it was understood, by those who knew, that their names were The General Public and the Man on the Street.
"A sad spectacle," said the Negro President, and he sighed as he spoke. "One wonders if our civilisation, if our moral standards themselves, are slipping from us." Then half in reverie, or as if overcome by the melancholy of his own thought, he lifted a spoon from the table and slid it gently into the bosom of his faded uniform.
"Put back that spoon!" called The Lady Pacifist sharply.
"Pardon!" said the Negro President humbly, as he put it back. The humiliation of generations of servitude was in his voice.
"Come, come," exclaimed Mr. Jennings Bryan cheerfully, "try a little more of the grape juice?"
"Does it intoxicate?" asked the President.
"Never," answered Mr. Bryan. "Rest a.s.sured of that. I can guarantee it. The grape is picked in the dark. It is then carried, still in the dark, to the testing room.
There every particle of alcohol is removed. Try it."
"Thank you," said the President. "I am no longer thirsty."
"Will anybody have some more of the grape juice?" asked Mr. Bryan, running his eye along the ranks of the guests.
No one spoke.
"Will anybody have some more ground peanuts?"
No one moved.
"Or does anybody want any more of the shredded tan bark?
No? Or will somebody have another spoonful of sunflower seeds?"
There was still no sign of a.s.sent.
"Very well, then," said Mr. Bryan, "the banquet, as such, is over, and we now come to the more serious part of our business. I need hardly tell you that we are here for a serious purpose. We are here to do good. That I know is enough to enlist the ardent sympathy of everybody present."
There was a murmur of a.s.sent.
"Personally," said The Lady Pacifist, "I do nothing else."
"Neither do I," said the guest who has been designated The Philanthropist, "whether I am producing oil, or making steel, or building motor-cars."
"Does he build motor-cars?" whispered the humble person called The Man in the Street to his fellow, The General Public.
"All great philanthropists do things like that," answered his friend. "They do it as a social service so as to benefit humanity; any money they make is just an accident.
They don"t really care about it a bit. Listen to him.
He"s going to say so."
"Indeed, our business itself," The Philanthropist continued, while his face lighted up with unselfish enthusiasm, "our business itself--"
"Hush, hush!" said Mr. Bryan gently. "We know--"
"Our business itself," persisted The Philanthropist, "is one great piece of philanthropy."
Tears gathered in his eyes.
"Come, come," said Mr. Bryan firmly, "we must get to business. Our friend here," he continued, turning to the company at large and indicating the Negro President on his right, "has come to us in great distress. His beautiful island of Haiti is and has been for many years overwhelmed in civil war. Now he learns that not only Haiti, but also Europe is engulfed in conflict. He has heard that we are making proposals for ending the war --indeed, I may say are about to declare that the war in Europe _must stop_--I think I am right, am I not, my friends?"
There was a general chorus of a.s.sent.
"Naturally then," continued Mr. Bryan, "our friend the President of Haiti, who is overwhelmed with grief at what has been happening in his island, has come to us for help. That is correct, is it not?"
"That"s it, gentlemen," said the Negro President, in a voice of some emotion, wiping the sleeve of his faded uniform across his eyes. "The situation is quite beyond my control. In fact," he added, shaking his head pathetically as he relapsed into more natural speech, "dis hyah chile, gen"l"n, is clean done beat with it.
Dey ain"t doin" nuffin" on the island but shootin", burnin", and killin" somethin" awful. Lawd a ma.s.sy! it"s just like a real civilised country, all right, now. Down in our island we coloured people is feeling just as bad as youse did when all them poor white folks was murdered on the _Lusitania!_"
But the Negro President had no sooner used the words "Murdered on the _Lusitania_," than a chorus of dissent and disapproval broke out all down the table.
"My dear sir, my dear sir," protested Mr. Bryan, "pray moderate your language a little, if you please. Murdered?
Oh, dear, dear me, how can we hope to advance the cause of peace if you insist on using such terms?"
"Ain"t it that? Wasn"t it murder?" asked the President, perplexed.
"We are all agreed here," said The Lady Pacifist, "that it is far better to call it an incident. We speak of the "_Lusitania_ Incident,"" she added didactically, "just as one speaks of the _Arabic_ Incident, and the Cavell Incident, and other episodes of the sort. It makes it so much easier to forget."
"True, quite true," murmured The Eminent Divine, "and then one must remember that there are always two sides to everything. There are two sides to murder. We must not let ourselves forget that there is always the murderer"s point of view to consider."
But by this time the Negro President was obviously confused and out of his depth. The conversation had reached a plane of civilisation which was beyond his reach.
The genial Mr. Bryan saw fit to come to his rescue.
"Never mind," said Mr. Bryan soothingly. "Our friends here, will soon settle all your difficulties for you.
I"m going to ask them, one after the other, to advise you. They will tell you the various means that they are about to apply to stop the war in Europe, and you may select any that you like for your use in Haiti. We charge you nothing for it, except of course your fair share of the price of this grape juice and the shredded nuts."
The President nodded.
"I am going to ask our friend on my right"--and here Mr.
Bryan indicated The Lady Pacifist--"to speak first."
There was a movement of general expectancy and the two obsequious guests at the foot of the table, of whom mention has been made, were seen to nudge one another and whisper, "Isn"t this splendid?"
"You are not asking me to speak first merely because I am a woman?" asked The Lady Pacifist.
"Oh no," said Mr. Bryon, with charming tact.
"Very good," said the lady, adjusting her gla.s.ses. "As for stopping the war, I warn you, as I have warned the whole world, that it may be too late. They should have called me in sooner. That was the mistake. If they had sent for me at once and had put my picture in the papers both in England and Germany, with the inscription "The True Woman of To-day," I doubt if any of the men who looked at it would have felt that it was worth while to fight. But, as things are, the only advice I can give is this. Everybody is wrong (except me). The Germans are a very naughty people. But the Belgians are worse. It was very, very wicked of the Germans to bombard the houses of the Belgians. But how naughty of the Belgians to go and sit in their houses while they were bombarded. It is to that that I attribute--with my infallible sense of justice--the dreadful loss of life. So you see the only conclusion that I can reach is that everybody is very naughty and that the only remedy would be to appoint me a committee--me and a few others, though the others don"t really matter--to make a proper settlement. I hope I make myself clear."
The Negro President shook his head and looked mystified.
"Us coloured folks," he said, "wouldn"t quite understand that. We done got the idea that sometimes there"s such a thing as a quarrel that is right and just." The President"s melancholy face lit up with animation and his voice rose to the sonorous vibration of the negro preacher. "We learn that out of the Bible, we coloured folks--we learn to smite the unG.o.dly--"
"Pray, pray," said Mr. Bryan soothingly, "don"t introduce religion, let me beg of you. That would be fatal. We peacemakers are all agreed that there must be no question of religion raised."
"Exactly so," murmured The Eminent Divine, "my own feelings exactly. The name of--of--the Deity should never be brought in. It inflames people. Only a few weeks ago I was pained and grieved to the heart to hear a woman in one of our London streets raving that the German Emperor was a murderer. Her child had been killed that night by a bomb from a Zeppelin; she had its body in a cloth hugged to her breast as she talked--thank heaven, they keep these things out of the newspapers--and she was calling down G.o.d"s vengeance on the Emperor. Most deplorable!