“Hello!” I called. “Est-ce que c’est l’Empereur Napoleon a qui j’ai
l’honneur de parler?”
“How’s that?” said Napoleon.
“Je demande si je suis en communication avec l’Empereur Napoleon--”
“Oh,” said Napoleon, “that’s all right; speak English.”
“What!” I said in surprise. “You know English? I always thought you
couldn’t speak a word of it.”
He was silent for a minute. Then he said:
“I picked it up over here. It’s all right. Go right ahead.”
“Well,” I continued, “I’ve always admired you so much, your wonderful
brain and genius, that I felt I wanted to speak to you and ask you how
you are.”
“Happy,” said Napoleon, “very happy.”
“That’s good,” I said. “That’s fine! And how is it out there? All bright
and beautiful, eh?”
“Very beautiful,” said the Emperor.
“And just where are you?” I continued. “Somewhere out in the
Unspeakable, I suppose, eh?”
“Yes,” he answered, “out here beyond.”
“That’s good,” I said. “Pretty happy, eh?”
“Very happy,” said Napoleon. “Tell everybody how happy I am.”
“I know,” I answered. “I’ll tell them all. But just now I’ve a
particular thing to ask. We’ve got a big war on, pretty well the whole
world in it, and I thought perhaps a few pointers from a man like you--”
But at this point the attendant touched me on the shoulder. “Your time
is up,” he said.
I was about to offer to pay at once for two minutes more when a better
idea struck me. Talk with Napoleon? I’d do better than that. I’d call a
whole War Council of great spirits, lay the war crisis before them and
get the biggest brains that the world ever produced to work on how to
win the war.
Who should I have? Let me see! Napoleon himself, of course. I’d bring
him back. And for the sea business, the submarine problem, I’d have
Nelson. George Washington, naturally, for the American end; for
politics, say, good old Ben Franklin, the wisest old head that ever
walked on American legs, and witty too; yes, Franklin certainly, if only
for his wit to keep the council from getting gloomy; Lincoln--honest old
Abe--him certainly I must have. Those and perhaps a few others.
I reckoned that a consultation at ten dollars apiece with spirits of
that class was cheap to the verge of the ludicrous. Their advice ought
to be worth millions--yes, billions--to the cause.
The agency got them for me without trouble. There is no doubt they are a
punctual crowd, over there beyond in the Unthinkable.
I gathered them all in and talked to them, all and severally, the
payment, a merely nominal matter, being made, _pro forma_, in advance.
I have in front of me in my rough notes the result of their advice.
When properly drafted it will be, I feel sure, one of the most important
state documents produced in the war.
In the personal sense--I have to admit it--I found them just a trifle
disappointing. Franklin, poor fellow, has apparently lost his wit. The
spirit of Lincoln seemed to me to have none of that homely wisdom that
he used to have. And it appears that we were quite mistaken in thinking
Disraeli a brilliant man; it is clear to me now that he was dull--just
about as dull as Great-grandfather, I should say. Washington, too, is
not at all the kind of man we thought him.
Still, these are only personal impressions. They detract nothing from
the extraordinary value of the advice given, which seems to me to settle
once and for ever any lingering doubt about the value of communications
with the Other Side.
My draft of their advice runs in part as follows:
The Spirit of Nelson, on being questioned on the submarine problem,
holds that if all the men on the submarines were where he is everything
would be bright and happy. This seems to me an invaluable hint. There is
nothing needed now except to put them there.
The advice of the Spirit of Napoleon about the campaign on land seemed
to me, if possible, of lower value than that of Nelson on the campaign
at sea. It is hardly conceivable that Napoleon has forgotten where the
Marne is. But it may have changed since his day. At any rate, he says
that, if ever the Russians cross the Marne, all is over. Coming from
such a master-strategist, this ought to be attended to.
Franklin, on being asked whether the United States had done right in
going into the war, said “Yes”; asked whether the country could with
honour have stayed out, he said “No.” There is guidance here for
thinking men of all ranks.
Lincoln is very happy where he is. So, too, I was amazed to find, is
Disraeli. In fact, it was most gratifying to learn that all of the great
spirits consulted are very happy, and want everybody to know how happy
they are. Where they are, I may say, it is all bright and beautiful.
Fear of trespassing on their time prevented me from questioning each of
them up to the full limit of the period contracted for.
I understand that I have still to my credit at the agency five minutes’
talk with Napoleon, available at any time, and similarly five minutes
each with Franklin and Washington, to say nothing of ten minutes’
unexpired time with Great-grandfather.
All of these opportunities I am willing to dispose of at a reduced rate
to anyone still sceptical of the reality of the spirit world.