The Duke's chef had served an
Emperor with honor--the billiard
room at Devenham Castle was the
most comfortable room upon earth.
The three men who sat together
upon a huge divan, the three
men most powerful in directing
the councils of their country,
felt a gentle wave of optimism
stealing through their quickened
blood. Nevertheless this was
a serious matter which occupied
their
thoughts.
"We are becoming," the Prime
Minister said, "much too modern.
We are becoming over-civilized
out of any similitude to a nation
of men of blood and brawn."
"You are quoting some impossible
person," Sir Edward Bransome
declared.
"One is always quoting unconsciously," the
Prime Minister admitted with
a sigh. "What I mean is that
five hundred years ago we should
have locked this young man up
in a room hung with black crape,
and with a pleasant array of
unfortunately extinct instruments
we should have succeeded, beyond
a doubt, in extorting the truth
from him."
"And if the truth were not
satisfactory?" the Duke asked,
lighting a cigar.
"We should have endeavored
to change his point of view," the
Prime Minister continued, "even
if we had to change at the same
time the outline of his particularly
graceful figure. The age of thumbscrews
and the rack was, after all,
a very virile age. Just consider
for a moment our positions--three
of the greatest and most brilliant
statesmen of our day--and we
can do very little save wait
for this young man to declare
himself. We are the puppets with
whom he plays. It rests with
him whether our names are written
upon the scroll of fame or whether
our administration is dismissed
in half a dozen contemptuous
words by the coming historian.
It rests with him whether our
friend Bransome here shall be
proclaimed the greatest Foreign
Minister that ever breathed,
and whether I myself have a statue
erected to me in Westminster
Yard, which shall be crowned
with a laurel wreath by patriotic
young ladies on the morning of
my anniversary."
The Duke stretched himself
out with a sigh of content. His
cigar was burning well, and the
flavor of old Armignac lingered
still upon his palate.
"Come," he protested, "I
think you exaggerate Maiyo's
importance
just a little, Haviland. Hesho
seems excellently disposed towards
us, and, after all, I should
have thought his word would have
had more weight in Tokio than
the word of a young man who is
new to diplomacy, and whose claims
to distinction seem to rest rather
upon his soldiering and the fact
that he is a cousin of the Emperor."
The Prime Minister sighed.
"Dear Duke," he said, "no
one of us, not even myself,
has ever
done that young man justice.
To me he represents everything
that is most strenuous and intellectual
in Japanese manhood. The spirit
of that wonderful country runs
like the elixir of life itself
through his veins. Since the
day he brought me his letter
from the Emperor, I have watched
him carefully, and I believe
I can honestly declare that not
once in these eighteen months
has he looked away from his task,
nor has he given to one single
person even an inkling of the
thoughts which have passed through
his mind. He came back from the
Continent, from Berlin, from
Paris, from Petersburg, with
a mass of acquired information
which would have made some of
our blue-books read like Hans
Andersen's Fairy Tales. He had
made up his mind exactly what
he thought of each country, of
their political systems, of their
social life, of their military
importance. He had them all weighed
up in the hollow of his hand.
He was willing to talk as long
as I, for instance, was willing
to listen. He spoke of everybody
whom he had met and every place
which he had visited without
reserve, and yet I guarantee
that there is no person in England
today, however much he may have
talked with him, who knows in
the least what his true impressions
are."
"Haviland is right," Bransome
agreed. "Many a time I have caught
myself wondering, when he talks
so easily about his travels,
what the real thoughts are which
lie at the back of his brain.
We know, of course, what the
object of those travels was.
He went as no tourist. He went
with a deep and solemn purpose
always before him. He went to
find out whether there was any
other European Power whose alliance
would be a more advantageous
thing for Japan than a continuation
of their alliance with us. Such
a thing has never been mentioned
or hinted at between us, but
we know it all the same."
"I wonder," the Duke remarked, "whether
we shall really get the truth
out of him before he goes."
The Prime Minister shook his
head.
"Look at him
now teaching old Lady Saunderson
how to hold her
cue. He singled her out because
she was the least attractive
person playing, because no one
took any particular notice of
her, and every one seemed disposed
to let her go her own way! Those
girls were all buzzing around
him as though he were something
holy, but you see how gently
he eluded them! Watch what an
interest she is taking in the
game now. He has been encouraging
the poor old lady until her last
few shots have been quite good.
That is Maiyo all the world over.
I will wager that he is thinking
of nothing on earth at this moment
but of making that poor old lady
feel at her ease and enjoy her
game. A stranger, looking on,
would imagine him to be just
a kind-hearted, simple-minded
fellow. Yet there is not one
of us three who has wit enough
to get a single word from him
against his will. You shall see.
There is an excellent opportunity
here. I suppose both of you read
his speech at the Herrick Club
last night?"
I did," the
Duke answered.
"And I," Bransome echoed. "It
seemed to me that he spoke a
little more freely than usual."
"He went as near to censure
as I have ever heard him when
speaking of any of the institutions
of our country," the Prime Minister
declared. "I will ask him about
it directly we get the chance.
You shall see how he will evade
the point."
"You will have to be quick
if you mean to get hold of him," the
Duke remarked. "See, the game
is over and there he goes with
Penelope."
The Prime Minister rose to
his feet and intercepted them
on their way to the door.
"Miss Morse," he said, "may
we ransom the Prince? We want
to talk to him."
"Do you insinuate," she laughed, "that
he is a captive of mine?"
"We are all captives of Miss
Morse's," Bransome said with
a bow, "and all enemies of Somerfield's."
Somerfield, hearing his name,
came up to them. The Duchess,
too, strolled over to the fire.
The Prime Minister and Bransome
returned with Maiyo towards the
corner of the room where they
had been sitting.
"Prince," the Prime Minister
said, "we have been talking about
your speech at the Herrick Club
last night."
The Prince smiled a little
gravely.
"Did I say too much?" he asked. "It
all came as a surprise to me--the
toast and everything connected
with it. I saw my name down to
reply, and it seemed discourteous
of me not to speak. But, as yet,
I do not altogether understand
these functions. I did not altogether
understand, for instance, how
much I might say and how much
I ought to leave unsaid."
""We have read what you said," Bransome
remarked. "What we should like
to hear, if I may venture to
say so, is what you left unsaid."
The Prince for a moment was
thoughtful. Perhaps he remembered
that the days had passed when
it was necessary for him to keep
so jealously his own counsel.
Perhaps his natural love of the
truth triumphed. He felt a sudden
longing to tell these people
who had been kind to him the
things which he had seen amongst
them, the things which only a
stranger coming fresh to the
country could perhaps fully comprehend.
"What I said was of little
importance," the Prince remarked, "but
I felt myself placed in a very
difficult position. Before I
knew what to expect, I was listening
to a glorification of the arms
of my country at the expense
of Russia. I was being hailed
as one of a nation who possess
military genius which had not
been equalled since the days
of Hannibal and Caesar. Many
things of that sort were said,
many things much too kind, many
things which somehow it grieved
me to listen to. And when I stood
up to reply, I felt that the
few words which I must say would
sound, perhaps, ungracious, but
they must be said. It was one
of those occasions which seemed
to call for the naked truth."
Penelope and the Duchess had
joined the little group.
"May we stay?" the former asked. "I
read every word of your speech," she
added, turning to the Prince. "Do
tell us why you spoke so severely,
what it was that you objected
to so strongly in General Ennison's
remarks?"
The Prince turned earnestly
towards her.
"My dear young lady," he said, "all
that I objected to was this over-glorification
of the feats of arms accomplished
by us. People over here did not
understand. On the one side were
the great armies of Russia,--men
drawn, all of them, from the
ranks of the peasant, men of
low nerve force, men who were
not many degrees better than
animals. They came to fight against
us because it was their business
to fight, because for fighting
they drew their scanty pay, their
food, and their drink, and the
clothes they wore. They fought
because if they refused they
faced the revolver bullets of
their officers,--men like themselves,
who also fought because it was
their profession, because it
was in the traditions of their
family, but who would, I think,
have very much preferred disporting
themselves in the dancing halls
of their cities, drinking champagne
with the ladies of their choice,
or gambling with cards. I do
not say that these were not brave
men, all of them. I myself saw
them face death by the hundreds,
but the lust of battle was in
their veins then, the taste of
blood upon their palates. We
do not claim to be called world
conquerors because we overcame
these men. If one could have
seen into the hearts of our own
soldiers as they marched into
battle, and seen also into the
hearts of those others who lay
there sullenly waiting, one would
not have wondered then. There
was, indeed, nothing to wonder
at. What we cannot make you understand
over here is that every Japanese
soldier who crept across the
bare plains or lay stretched
in the trenches, who loaded his
rifle and shot and killed and
waited for death,--every man
felt something beating in his
heart which those others did
not feel. We have no great army,
Mr. Haviland, but what we have
is a great nation who have things
beating in their heart the knowledge
of which seems somehow to have
grown cold amongst you Western
people. The boy is born with
it; it is there in his very soul,
as dear to him as the little
home where he lives, the blossoming
trees under which he plays. It
leads him to the rifle and the
drill ground as naturally as
the boys of your country turn
to the cricket fields and the
football ground. Over here you
call that spirit patriotism.
It was something which beat in
the heart of every one of those
hundreds of thousands of men,
something which kept their eyes
clear and bright as they marched
into battle, which made them
look Death itself in the face,
and fight even while the blackness
crept over them. You see, your
own people have so many interests,
so many excitements, so much
to distract. With us it is not
so. In the heart of the Japanese
comes the love of his parents,
the love of his wife and children,
and, deepest, perhaps, of all
the emotions he knows, the strong
magnificent background to his
life, the love of the country
which bore him, which shelters
them. It is for his home he fights,
for his simple joys amongst those
who are dear to him, for the
great mysterious love of the
Motherland. Forgive me if I have
expressed myself badly, have
repeated myself often. It is
a matter which I find it so hard
to talk about, so hard here to
make you understand."
"But you must not think, Prince,
that we over here are wholly
lacking in that same instinct," the
Duke said. "Remember our South
African war, and the men who
came to arms and rallied round
the flag when their services
were needed."
"I do remember that," the Prince
answered. "I wish that I could
speak of it in other terms. Yet
it seems to me that I must speak
as I find things. You say that
the men came to arms. They did,
but how? Untrained, unskilled
in carrying weapons, they rushed
across the seas to be the sport
of the farmers who cut them off
or shot them down, to be a hindrance
in the way of the mercenaries
who fought for you. Yes, you
say they rallied to the call!
What brought them? Excitement,
necessity, necessities of their
social standing, bravado, cheap
heroism--any one of these. But
I tell you that patriotism as
we understand it is a deeper
thing. In the land where it flourishes
there is no great pre-eminence
in what you call sports or games.
It does not come like a whirlwind
on the wings of disaster. It
grows with the limbs and the
heart of the boy, grows with
his muscles and his brawn. It
is part of his conscience, part
of his religion. As he realizes
that he has a country of his
own to protect, a dear, precious
heritage come down to him through
countless ages, so he learns
that it is his sacred duty to
know how to do his share in defending
it. The spare time of our youth,
Mr. Haviland, is spent learning
to shoot, to scout, to bear hardships,
to acquire the arts of war. I
tell you that there was not one
general who went with our troops
to Manchuria, but a hundred thousand.
We have no great army. We are
a nation of men whose religion
it is to fight when their country's
welfare is threatened."
There was a short silence.
The Prime Minister and Bransome
exchanged rapid glances.
"These, then," Penelope said
slowly, "were the things you
left unsaid."
The Prince raised his hand
a little--a deprecatory gesture.
"Perhaps even now," he said, "it
was scarcely courteous of me
to say them, only I know that
they come to you as no new thing.
There are many of your countrymen
who are speaking to you now in
the Press as I, a stranger, have
spoken. Sometimes it is harder
to believe one of your own family.
That is why I have dared to say
so much,--I, a foreigner, eager
and anxious only to observe and
to learn. I think, perhaps, that
it is to such that the truth
comes easiest."
Of a purpose, the three men
who were there said nothing.
The Prince offered Penelope his
arm.
"I will not be disappointed," he
said. "You promised that you
would show me the palm garden.
I have talked too much."
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