CHAPTER XXXII. PRINCE MAIYO SPEAKS

The library at Devenham Castle was a large and sombre apartment, with

high oriel windows and bookcases reaching to the ceiling. It had an

unused and somewhat austere air. Tonight especially an atmosphere of

gloom seemed to pervade it. The Prince, when he opened the door, found

the three men who were awaiting him seated at an oval table at the

further end of the room.

“I do not intrude, I trust?” the Prince said. “I understood that you

wished me to come here.”

“Certainly,” the Duke answered, “we were sitting here awaiting your

arrival. Will you take this easy chair? The cigarettes are at your

elbow.”

The Prince declined the easy chair and leaned for a moment against the

table.

“Perhaps later,” he said. “Just now I feel that you have something to

say to me. Is it not so? I talk better when I am standing.”

It was the Prime Minister who made the first plunge. He spoke without

circumlocution, and his tone was graver than usual.

“Prince,” he said, “this is perhaps the last time that we shall all

meet together in this way. You go from us direct to the seat of your

Government. So far there has been very little plain speaking between

us. It would perhaps be more in accord with etiquette if we let you go

without a word, and waited for a formal interchange of communications

between your Ambassador and ourselves. But we have a feeling, Sir Edward

and I, that we should like to talk to you directly. Before we go any

further, however, let me ask you this question. Have you any objection,

Prince, to discussing a certain matter here with us?”

The Prince for several moments made no reply. He was still standing

facing the fireplace, leaning slightly against the table behind him. On

his right was the Duke, seated in a library chair. On his left the Prime

Minister and Sir Edward Bransome. The Prince seemed somehow to have

become the central figure of the little group.

“Perhaps,” he said, “if you had asked me that question a month ago,

Mr. Haviland, I might have replied to you differently. Circumstances,

however, since then have changed. My departure will take place so

soon, and the kindness I have met here from all of you has been so

overwhelming, that if you will let me I should like to speak of certain

things concerning which no written communication could ever pass between

our two countries.”

“I can assure you, my dear Prince, that we shall very much appreciate

your doing so,” Mr. Haviland declared.

“I think,” the Prince continued, “that the greatest and the most subtle

of all policies is the policy of perfect truthfulness. Listen to me,

then. The thing which you have in your mind concerning me is true. Two

years I have spent in this country and in other countries of Europe.

These two years have not been spent in purposeless travel. On the

contrary, I have carried with me always a definite and very fixed

purpose.”

The Prime Minister and Bransome exchanged rapid glances.

“That has been our belief from the first,” Bransome remarked.

“I came to Europe,” the Prince continued gravely, “to make a report to

my cousin the Emperor of Japan as to whether I believed that a renewal

of our alliance with you would be advantageous to my country. I need not

shrink from discussing this matter with you now, for my report is made.

It is, even now, on its way to the Emperor.”

There was a moment’s silence, a silence which in this corner of the

great room seemed marked with a certain poignancy. It was the Prime

Minister who broke it.

“The report,” he said, “is out of your hands. The official decision of

your Government will reach us before long. Is there any reason why you

should not anticipate that decision, why you should not tell us frankly

what your advice was?”

“There is no reason,” the Prince answered. “I will tell you. I owe that

to you at least. I have advised the Emperor not to renew the treaty.”

“Not to renew,” the Prime Minister echoed.

This time the silence was portentous. It was a blow, and there was not

one of the three men who attempted to hide his dismay.

“I am afraid,” the Prince continued earnestly, “that to you I must

seem something of an ingrate. I have been treated by every one in this

country as the son of a dear friend. The way has been made smooth for me

everywhere. Nothing has been hidden. From all quarters I have received

hospitality which I shall never forget. But you are three just men. I

know you will realize that my duty was to my country and to my country

alone. No one else has any claims upon me. What I have seen I have

written of. What I believe I have spoken.”

“Prince,” Mr. Haviland said, “there is no one here who will gainsay your

honesty. You came to judge us as a nation and you have found us wanting.

At least we can ask you why?”

The Prince sighed.

“It is hard,” he said. “It is very hard. When I tell you of the things

which I have seen, remember, if you please, that I have seen them with

other eyes than yours. The conditions which you have grown up amongst

and lived amongst all your days pass almost outside the possibility of

your impartial judgment. You have lived with them too long. They have

become a part of you. Then, too, your national weakness bids your eyes

see what you would have them see.”

“Go on,” Mr. Haviland said, drumming idly with his fingers upon the

table.

“I have had to ask myself,” the Prince continued,--“it has been my

business to ask myself what is your position as a great military power,

and the answer I have found is that as a great military power it does

not exist. I have had to ask myself what would happen to your country

in the case of a European war, where your fleet was distributed to guard

your vast possessions in every quarter of the world, and the answer to

that is that you are, to all practical purposes, defenceless. In almost

any combination which could arrange itself, your country is at the mercy

of the invader.”

Bransome leaned forward in his chair.

“I can disprove it,” he declared firmly. “Come with me to Aldershot next

week, and I will show you that those who say that we have no army are

ignorant alarmists. The Secretary for War shall show you our new

scheme for defensive forces. You have gone to the wrong authorities for

information on these matters, Prince. You have been entirely and totally

misled.”

The Prince drew a little breath.

“Sir Edward,” he said, “I do not speak to you rashly. I have not looked

into these affairs as an amateur. You forget that I have spent a week at

Aldershot, that your Secretary for War gave me two days of his valuable

time. Every figure with which you could furnish me I am already

possessed of. I will be frank with you. What I saw at Aldershot counted

for nothing with me in my decision. Your standing army is good, beyond a

doubt,--a well-trained machine, an excellent plaything for a General

to move across the chessboard. It might even win battles, and yet your

standing army are mercenaries, and no great nation, from the days of

Babylon, has resisted invasion or held an empire by her mercenaries.”

“They are English soldiers,” Mr. Haviland declared. “I do not recognize

your use of the word.”

“They are paid soldiers,” the Prince said, “men who have adopted

soldiering as a profession. Come, I will not pause half-way. I will tell

you what is wrong with your country. You will not believe it. Some day

you will see the truth, and you will remember my words. It may be that

you will realize it a little sooner, or I would not have dared to speak

as I am speaking. This, then, is the curse which is eating the heart

out of your very existence. The love of his Motherland is no longer a

religion with your young man. Let me repeat that,--I will alter one word

only. The love of his Motherland is no longer _the_ religion or even

part of the religion of your young man. Soldiering is a profession for

those who embrace it. It is so that mercenaries are made. I have been

to every one of your great cities in the North. I have been there on a

Saturday afternoon, the national holiday. That is the day in Japan on

which our young men march and learn to shoot, form companies and attend

their drill. Feast days and holidays it is always the same. They do what

tradition has made a necessity for them. They do it without grumbling,

whole-heartedly, with an enthusiasm which has in it something almost

of passion. How do I find the youth of your country engaged? I have

discovered. It is for that purpose that I have toured through England.

They go to see a game played called football. They sit on seats and

smoke and shout. They watch a score of performers--one score, mind--and

the numbers who watch them are millions. From town to town I went, and

it was always the same. I see their white faces in a huge amphitheatre,

fifteen thousand here, twenty thousand there, thirty thousand at another

place. They watch and they shout while these men in the arena play with

great skill this wonderful game. When the match is over, they stream

into public houses. Their afternoon has been spent. They talk it over.

Again they smoke and drink. So it is in one town and another,--so it

is everywhere,--the strangest sight of all that I have seen in

Europe. These are your young men, the material out of which the coming

generation must be fashioned? How many of them can shoot? How many of

them can ride? How many of them have any sort of uniform in which they

could prepare to meet the enemy of their country? What do they know or

care for anything outside their little lives and what they call their

love of sport,--they who spend five days in your grim factories toiling

before machines,--their one afternoon, content to sit and watch the

prowess of others! I speak to these footballers themselves. They are

strong men and swift. They are paid to play this game. I do not find

that even one of them is competent to strike a blow for his country if

she needs him. It is because of your young men, then, Mr. Haviland, that

I cannot advise Japan to form a new alliance with you. It is because you

are not a serious people. It is because the units of your nation have

ceased to understand that behind the life of every great nation stands

the love of God, whatever god it may be, and the love of Motherland.

These things may not be your fault. They may, indeed, be the terrible

penalty of success. But no one who lives for ever so short a time

amongst you can fail to see the truth. You are commercialized out of all

the greatness of life. Forgive me, all of you, that I say it so plainly,

but you are a race who are on the downward grade, and Japan seeks for no

alliance save with those whose faces are lifted to the skies.”

The pause which followed was in itself significant. The Duke alone

remained impassive. Bransome’s face was dark with anger. Even the Prime

Minister was annoyed. Bransome would have spoken, but the former held

out his hand to check him.

“If that is really your opinion of us, Prince,” he said, “it is useless

to enter into argument with you, especially as you have already acted

upon your convictions. I should like to ask you this question, though.

A few weeks ago an appeal was made to our young men to bring up to its

full strength certain forces which have been organized for the defence

of the country. Do you know how many recruits we obtained in less than a

month?”

“Fourteen thousand four hundred and seventy-five,” the Prince answered

promptly, “out of nearly seven millions who were eligible. This pitiful

result of itself might have been included amongst my arguments if I had

felt that arguments were necessary. Mr. Haviland, you may drive some

of these young men to arms by persuasion, by appealing to them through

their womankind or their employers, but you cannot create a national

spirit. And I tell you, and I have proved it, that the national spirit

is not there. I will go further,” the Prince continued with increased

earnestness, “if you still are not weary of the subject. I will point

out to you how little encouragement the youth of this country receive

from those who are above them in social station. In every one of your

counties there is a hunt, cricket clubs, golf clubs in such numbers that

their statistics absolutely overwhelm me. Everywhere one meets young men

of leisure, well off, calmly proposing to settle down and spend the best

part of their lives in what they call country life. They will look after

their estates; they will hunt a little, shoot a little, go abroad for

two months in the winter, play golf a little, lawn tennis, perhaps, or

cricket. I tell you that there are hundreds and thousands of these

young men, with money to spare, who have no uniform which they could

wear,--no, I want to change that!” the Prince cried with an impressive

gesture,--“who have no uniform which they will be able to wear when the

evil time comes! How will they feel then, these young men of family,

whose life has been given to sports and to idle amusements, when their

womankind come shrieking to them for protection and they dare not even

handle a gun or strike a blow! They must stand by and see their lands

laid waste, their womankind insulted. They must see the land run

red with the blood of those who offer a futile resistance, but they

themselves must stand by inactive. They are not trained to fight as

soldiers,--they cannot fight as civilians.”

“The Prince forgets,” Bransome remarked dryly, “that an invasion of this

country--a practical invasion--is very nearly an impossible thing.”

The Prince laughed softly.

“My friend,” he said, “if I thought that you believed that, although

you are a Cabinet Minister of England I should think that you were

the biggest fool who ever breathed. Today, in warfare, nothing

is impossible. I will guarantee, I who have had only ten years of

soldiering, that if Japan were where Holland is today, I would halve

my strength in ships and I would halve my strength in men, and I would

overrun your country with ease at any time I chose. You need not agree

with me, of course. It is not a subject which we need discuss. It is,

perhaps, out of my province to allude to it. The feeling which I have in

my heart is this. The laws of history are incontrovertible. So surely as

a great nation has weakened with prosperity, so that her limbs have lost

their suppleness and her finger joints have stiffened, so surely does

the plunderer come in good time. The nation which loses its citizen army

drives the first nail into its own coffin. I do not say who will invade

you, or when, although, to my thinking, any one could do it. I simply

say that in your present state invasion from some one or other is a sure

thing.”

“Without admitting the truth of a single word you have said, my dear

Prince,” the Prime Minister remarked, “there is another aspect of the

whole subject which I think that you should consider. If you find us in

so parlous a state, it is surely scarcely dignified or gracious, on the

part of a great nation like yours, to leave us so abruptly to our fate.

Supposing it were true that we were suffering a little from a period

of too lengthened prosperity, from an attack of over-confidence. Still

think of the part we have played in the past. We kept the world at bay

while you fought with Russia.”

“That,” the Prince replied, “was one of the conditions of a treaty which

has expired. If by that treaty our country profited more than yours,

that is still no reason why we should renew it under altered conditions.

Gratitude is an admirable sentiment, but it has nothing to do with the

making of treaties.”

“We are, nevertheless,” Bransome declared, “justified in pointing out to

you some of the advantages which you have gained from your alliance with

us. You realize, I suppose, that save for our intervention the United

States would have declared war against you four months ago?”

“Your good offices were duly acknowledged by my Government,” the Prince

admitted. “Yet what you did was in itself of no consequence. It is as

sure as north is north and south is south that you and America would

never quarrel for the sake of Japan. That is another reason, if another

reason is needed, why a treaty between us would be valueless. You and

I--the whole world knows that before a cycle of years have passed Japan

and America must fight. When that time comes, it will not be you who

will help us.”

“An alliance duly concluded between this country--”

The Prince held out both his hands.

“Listen,” he said. “A fortnight ago a certain person in America wrote

and asked you in plain terms what your position would be if war between

Japan and America were declared. What was your reply?”

Bransome was on the point of exclaiming, but the Prime Minister

intervened.

“You appear to be a perfect Secret Service to yourself, Prince,” he said

smoothly. “Perhaps you can also tell us our reply?”

“I can tell you this much,” the Prince answered. “You did not send word

back to Washington that your alliance was a sacred charge upon your

honor and that its terms must be fulfilled to the uttermost letter. Your

reply, I fancy, was more in the nature of a compromise.”

“How do you know what our reply was?” Mr. Haviland asked.

“To tell you the truth, I do not,” the Prince answered, smiling. “I have

simply told you what I am assured that your answer must have been. Let

us leave this matter. We gain nothing by discussing it.”

“You have been very candid with us, Prince,” Mr. Haviland remarked. “We

gather that you are opposed to a renewal of our alliance chiefly for

two reasons,--first, that you have formed an unfavorable opinion of

our resources and capacity as a nation; and secondly, because you

are seeking an ally who would be of service to you in one particular

eventuality, namely, a war with the United States. You have spent some

time upon the Continent. May we inquire whether your present attitude

is the result of advances made to you by any other Power? If I am asking

too much, leave my question unanswered.”

The Prince shook his head slowly.

“Tonight,” he said, “I am speaking to you as one who is willing to show

everything that is in his heart. I will tell you, then. I have been to

Germany, and I can assure you of my own knowledge that Germany possesses

the mightiest fighting machine ever known in the world’s history. That

I do truthfully and honestly believe. Yet listen to me. I have talked to

the men and I have talked to the officers. I have seen them in barracks

and on the parade ground, and I tell you this. When the time arrives for

that machine to be set in motion, it is my profound conviction that the

result will be one of the greatest surprises of modern times. I say no

more, nor must you ask me any questions, but I tell you that we do not

need Germany as an ally. I have been to Russia, and although our hands

have crossed, there can be no real friendship between our countries till

time has wiped out the memory of our recent conflict. France hates us

because it does not understand us. The future of Japan is just as

clear as the disaster which hangs over Great Britain. There is only one

possible ally for us, only one possible combination. That is what I

have written home to my cousin the Emperor. That is what I pray that our

young professors will teach throughout Japan.. That is what it will be

my mission to teach my country people if the Fates will that I return

safely home. East and West are too far apart. We are well outside the

coming European struggle. Our strength will come to us from nearer

home.”

“China!” the Prime Minister exclaimed.

“The China of our own making,” the Prince declared, a note of tense

enthusiasm creeping into his tone,--“China recreated after its great

lapse of a thousand years. You and I in our lifetime shall not see

it, but there will come a day when the ancient conquests of Persia and

Greece and Rome will seem as nothing before the all-conquering armies of

China and Japan. Until those days we need no allies. We will have none.

We must accept the insults of America and the rough hand of Germany. We

must be strong enough to wait!”

A footman entered the room and made his way to the Duke’s chair.

“Your Grace,” he said, “a gentleman is ringing up from Downing Street

who says he is speaking from the Home Office.”

“Whom does he want?” the Duke asked.

“Both Your Grace and Mr. Haviland,” the man replied. “He wished me to

say that the matter was of the utmost importance.”

The Duke rose at once and glanced at the clock.

“It is an extraordinary hour,” he remarked, “for Heseltine to be wanting

us. Shall we go and see what it means, Haviland? You will excuse us,

Prince?”

The Prince bowed.

“I think that we have talked enough of serious affairs tonight,” he

said. “I shall challenge Sir Edward to a game of billiards.”

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