What was his part towards them--to mourn, and fill his life with useless melancholy? To forget, and turn his face towards the future?
Forget . . . ?
"There are times"--he found himself repeating mechanically the words which, a few hours before, he had spoken to Elise--"when I long for the power to reach out for the great truths--hidden in s.p.a.ce--and in the silence of the night."
Suddenly his brow grew calm. The baffled, questioning look left his eyes, and he smiled strangely.
Closing the door, he turned back to his desk, and taking the pen, looked for a full minute at the paper before him.
"_To My Unborn Son_."
He gazed at what he had written as though the words had appeared of their own volition.
"_To My Unborn Son_."
With a far-away dreaminess in his eyes he dipped his pen in the ink and commenced to write:
"Somewhere beyond the borders of life you are waiting. I cannot speak to you, nor look on your face, but the love of a father for his child can penetrate the eternal mysteries of the unknown. To those who love there is no death; and in the hearts of parents, children live long before they are born.
"My son, this letter that I write now to you will lie hidden and unseen by other eyes until the time when you alone shall read it. I shall be changed by then: like the world, I may forget; but you, my son, must read these words, and know that they are truth--truth as unchangeable as the tides of the sea, or the hours of dawn and sunset.
"_Civilisation has murdered ten million men_.
"The human mind cannot encompa.s.s that. It is beyond its comprehension, so it is trying to forget.
"Ten million men--murdered.
"Read these words, my son, written in the hush of night, when men"s souls stand revealed.
"Nearly six years ago there came the war. History will prove this or that responsibility for it, but the civilisation that made war possible is itself responsible. The nations sprang to arms; but soon, by that strange destiny which seems to guide mankind, the issue was one not of nations against nations, but of Humanity against Germany. Do not ask me how the land of Goethe, Schiller, and Beethoven became so vile. I only know that Germany was the champion of evil, and on Britain and France men"s hopes were rested.
"America held aloof. When this is read by you, my son, you will have known the n.o.ble thrill of patriotism, the pride of race and citizenship. But it is because of that that you must read what I write now about the country I love best.
"Less than any other nation, America is to be blamed for the war. Her life was separate from the older world, and the spoils of victory made no appeal. Yet this great Republic, born of man"s desire for freedom, remained silent even when the whole world saw that the war was one of Justice against Evil. Men, like myself, were blind, and fed the flames of ignorance with ignorance. Others knew we were not ready, and called upon us to prepare; and others made great fortunes while Youth went to its Cross.
"Month after month pa.s.sed by, and Britain and her Allies fought Humanity"s fight; and the murder of men went on.
"At last we came of age, and our young men stormed across the seas, not to save America--for we had nothing to fear--but to rid the world of an intolerable curse. Look fearlessly at the truth, but do not forget that when we went it was for an ideal--just as years before, when North and South fought the issue of preserving the Union, the impulse that drove our fathers on to their deaths was their souls" demand of freedom for the negro. By her delay was America defamed; by the spirit of her coming was she great."
Selwyn put down his pen, and rested his head between his hands. Ten minutes pa.s.sed before he looked up and began to write again.
"The war is over. _America is debtor to the world_. Read this, my son, with both humility and pride--humility that it is so, pride that we yet can pay.
"Those awful years while we stood apart, the homes of Britain gave their sons--the sons for whom their parents yearned, as I am yearning now for you. Through Britain"s broken hearts, and through the grief of women throughout the world, the youth of America were saved. I know that we have our thousands of stricken homes and ruined lives, but the end of the war left America debtor to civilisation, even though she gave the strength which brought the war to an end.
"Faced with our indebtedness, what did we do?
"Europe lay stricken. The spectres of ruin, starvation, anarchy, hovered about her form. The world was through with war; men groped for light; and from the peoples of the earth a universal cry went up that these things must not be.
"It was our chance. We still were strong. We held the charter of mankind within our hands, and men looked to us. Over prostrate Europe the conquering nations gathered, and men in all the distant corners of the earth listened for the voice of him who would cry in the wilderness that a new age was born.
"Vital days went by. At last the man who spoke for us outlined his plan that all the Powers of the world should join together in a covenant that war should be no more.
"Men waited, and still waited. The plan was argued, ridiculed, applauded--and sucked of its inspiration by talk. Already the agony of Man was hardening into the cynicism of despair. Nations that had bled together grew wary and drew apart.
"And still men waited, for they knew that only America"s voice could allay the clamour. Then we spoke. Angered by the methods of our leader, angered by the spirit of revenge that was settling over Europe, angered by delay, once more we failed to see the great truths written across the face of the sun.
"America--debtor to the world--America cried out that she alone of all the nations would stand aloof. Let history gloss it over as it will, we held back the hand of succour that Europe craved for.
"From the land of scented mists came the j.a.panese; from Greece, that once was first in all the arts; from South America and the countries of Europe, men gathered to the League of Nations, hoping, groping for the light--_and we were not there_.
"As I write to you, my son, the League is an impotent, powerless thing, at which the men who know only nationality and not humanity sneer and make jest. The body is there--America alone could be the heart.
"Bloodless, helpless, it is in semblance a living thing, but all men know it has no life, and already the diplomats who have no other way are using it as a shield for their methods that cannot bear the light.
"My son, in the hush and loneliness of night, ponder over these words.
Because of those things, avoidable and unavoidable, that kept us silent; because so many of us were false to the trusteeship that fell on our generation; because we had not learned that America was greater than Americans, but tried to imprison the spirit of the Republic within the little confines of our souls--because of these things thousands of men were foully done to death. How many Miltons, how many Lincolns, were crucified in that army of the young?
"_We must repay_. Our destiny is clear, and no people can thwart its destiny without the gravest danger. Our duty is to restore. Whatever our resources, in things material or of the spirit, this generation and yours and the generation to follow must give unsparingly. Our minds and hearts must turn to Europe, for only in service to mankind can America fulfil that for which she was created.
"Across the seas lies England. She has done much that is unworthy of her in the past; she has much to teach and much to learn; but within the heart of Old England there is majestic grandeur and great mercifulness, and with that heart ours must beat in unison. The solemn splendour of Britain"s sacrifice must never be forgotten.
"Believe in life, my son. Believe in men. Take on my charge and fight the flames of Ignorance, not as I did, but with the power of Reason and of Right. The universal mind is still alive. Trust in it as Wagner when he wrote his music, as Sh.e.l.ley when he sang of beauty, as Washington when he founded this great Republic. Men speak through their nationalities, but in every country of the world there is an aristocracy of thought; and if you have the power, I charge you work towards the end when that great aristocracy will flood the earth with splendour and Ignorance will be no more.
"These words I leave with you, my son, on this silent night in May.
Perhaps you will never read them. Perhaps you will live only in our two hearts. But on the borders of life we reach out for you, praying that you may come to stay the hunger of our hearts, to be our living son."
Selwyn dropped his pen and rose slowly from his chair. Pa.s.sing his hand across his brow, he went to the door, and opening it, looked out.
From the thin crescent of a waning moon, a narrow path of light was glimmering on the water.