A DIALOGUE ON PEACE BETWEEN A HOUSEHOLDER AND A BURGLAR
The house was badly wrecked by the struggle which had raged through it.
The walls were marred, the windows and mirrors shattered, the pictures
ruined, the furniture smashed into kindling-wood.
Worst of all, the faithful servants and some of the children were lying
in dark corners, dead or grievously wounded.
The Burglar who had wrought the damage sat in the middle of the dining-
room floor, with his swag around him. It was neatly arranged in bags,
for in spite of his madness he was a most methodical man. One bag was
labelled silverware; another, jewels; another, cash; and another,
souvenirs. There was blood on his hands and a fatuous smile on his face.
"Surely I am a mighty man," he said to himself, "and I have proved it!
But I am very tired, as well as kind-hearted, and I feel that it is now
time to begin a Conversation on Peace."
The Householder, who was also something of a Pacifist on appropriate
occasions, but never a blind one, stood near. Through the brief lull in
the rampage he overheard the mutterings of the Burglar.
"'Were you speaking to me?" he asked. "As a matter of fact," answered
the Burglar, "I was talking to myself. But it is the same thing. Are we
not brothers? Do we not both love Peace? Come sit beside me, and let us
talk about it."
"What do you mean by Peace," said the Householder, looking grimly around
him; "do you mean all this?"
"No, no," said the Burglar; "that is--er--not exactly! 'All this' is
most regrettable. I weep over it. If I could have had my way unopposed
it would never have happened. But until you sit down close beside me I
really cannot tell you in particular what I mean by that blessed word
Peace. In general, I mean something like the status quo ante bel-"
"In this case," interrupted the Householder, "you should say the status
quo ante furtum--not bellum [the state of things before the burglary,
not before the war], You are a mighty robber--not a common thief, but a
most uncommon one. Do you mean to restore the plunder you have grabbed?"
"Yes, certainly," replied the Burglar, in a magnanimous tone; "that is
to say, I mean you shall have a part of it, freely and willingly. I
could keep it all, you know, but I am too noble to do that. You shall
take the silverware and the souvenirs, I will take the jewels and the
cash. Isn't that a fair division? Peace must always stand on a basis of
equality between the two parties. Shake hands on it."
The Householder put his hand behind his back.
"You insult me," said he. "If I were your equal I should die of shame.
Waive the comparison. What about the damage you have done here? Who
shall repair it?"
"All the world," cried the Burglar eagerly; "everybody will
help--especially your big neighbor across the lake. He is a fool with
plenty of money. You cannot expect me to contribute. I am poor, but as
honest as my profession will permit. This damage in your house is not
wilful injury. It is merely one of the necessary accompaniments of my
practice of burglary. You ought not to feel sore about it. Why do you
call attention to it, instead of talking politely and earnestly about
the blessings of Peace?"
"I am talking to you as politely as I can," said the Householder,
moistening his dry lips, "but while I am doing it, I feel as if I were
smeared with mud. Tell me, what have you to say about my children and my
servants whom you have tortured and murdered?"
"Ah, that," answered the Burglar, shrugging his shoulders and spreading
out his hands, palms upward, so that he looked like a gigantic toad,
"--that indeed is so very, very sad! My heart mourns over it. But how
could it be avoided? Those foolish people would not lie down, would not
be still. Their conduct was directly contrary to my system; see section
417, chapter 93, in my 'Great Field-Book of Burglary,' under the title
'Schrecklichkeit.' Perhaps in the excitement of the moment I went a
little beyond those scientific regulations. The babies need not have
been killed--only terrified. But that was a mere error of judgment which
you will readily forgive and forget for the sake of the holy cause of
Peace. Will you not?"
The Householder turned quickly and spat into the fireplace.
"Blasphemer," he cried, "my gorge rises at you! Can there be any
forgiveness until you repent? Can there be any Peace in the world if you
go loose in it, ready to break and enter and kill when it pleases you?
Will you lay down your weapons and come before the Judge?"
The Burglar rose slowly to his feet, twisting up his mustache with
bloody brass-knuckled hands.
"You are a colossal ass," he growled. "You forget how strong I am, how
much I can still hurt you. I have offered you a chance to get Peace.
Don't you want it?"
"Not as a present from you," said the Householder slowly. "It would
poison me. I would rather die a decent man's death."
He went a step nearer to the Burglar, who quickly backed away.
"Come," the Householder continued, "let us bandy compliments no longer.
You are where you have no right to be. You can talk when I get you
before the Judge. I want Peace no more than I want Justice. While there
is a God in heaven and honest freemen still live on earth I will fight
for both."
He took a fresh grip on his club, and the Burglar backed again, ready to
spring.
Through the dead silence of the room there came a loud knocking at the
door. Could it be the big neighbor from across the lake?