When the unique voluntary peace delegation finally reached the
headquarters of the imperial army, the commander was conducting a prayer
meeting. They must wait.
They waited with joy.
Pike’s little wizened face beamed with good will to men. From the moment
he heard that the army was at prayers he had no doubt of the final
outcome of their mission.
He turned once more to the soldier who had arrested and brought them in.
“Your General always leads the service?” he asked genially.
“Always--before a battle--”
“Of--yes, yes, I see--I see--“ Pike fluttered.
“If it’s going to be a real battle,” the man continued, “he prays all
night in his tent sometimes. For this little skirmish we’re going into,
I don’t think the service will last more than ten minutes.”
Pike didn’t like this soldier’s conversation. He had a rude way of
smiling while he talked. The President of the Peace Union decided to
withhold further conversation with him.
To the amazement of Barker and Pike the divine services suddenly ended
in a shout. The sinister brownish-gray hosts that knelt in prayer leaped
to their feet with a fierce cry that rent the heavens:
“For God and Emperor!”
The Peace delegates were slightly distressed by this strange ending of a
prayer meeting. It had an uncanny sound. There was something about the
leap and shout too that suggested the rush of hosts into battle.
However, they were nothing daunted. God was with them. At least Pike
knew that the Almighty was with him. Since Barker’s fall and oath and
blows on that horse’s head he had moments of doubts about the orator’s
perfect purity of faith. Still for one righteous man the Lord would
spare a city!
Pike brushed the dust from his black broadcloth suit, adjusted his limp,
dirt-smeared white bow tie and made ready to meet the foe with a plea
that could not be shaken.
Barker was so absorbed in thought preparing his noble address that he
remained oblivious to his dishevelled condition. His silk hat had been
crushed in the second fall, and refused to be straightened. It was this
fact that had caused him to lose his temper and smite the horse.
His broken tile drooped on one side in a painfully funny way that
worried Pike. He gently removed the great man’s hat and tried to
straighten it.
“Permit me, Brother Barker,” he said nervously. “Your hat’s a little out
of plumb.”
Barker’s moon-like face was beaming now with inspiration. He made no
objection. He was used to being fussed over by women and preachers.
Barker turned his horse over to an obliging army hostler and took Pike’s
arm from his habit of being escorted through crowds to the platform.
The soldier led them without further ceremony to the tent of the
commander of the advancing army.
From the pomp and ceremony, salutes and clicking heels, the peace
pioneers knew that they were being ushered into the presence of the
Commander-in-chief.
General Villard, who had dashed from Waldron’s side to assume first
command, came out laughing to meet them--a tall, stately figure, booted
and spurred--his entire staff following. He carried a silver-mounted
riding-whip in his hand and looked as if he had been born in the saddle.
“You bear a message under a flag of truce from the enemy?” he asked
sharply.
Barker bowed graciously, removing his lame tile, and stood holding it on
a level with his shoulder after the fashion of committees at the laying
of cornerstones. His bald head and smiling open face beamed. He plunged
at once into his eloquent address.
“We have come, General,” he began suavely, “in the name of a hundred
million happy, peaceful citizens of this great Republic to bid you
welcome to our shores. Our vast and glorious domain, washed by two
oceans, stretching from the frozen peaks of Alaska to the eternal
sunshine and flowers of the tropics, is large enough for all who bless
us with their coming.
“We welcome you as brothers! We want you to stay with us. We offer you
the blessings of peace and freedom. We do not meet you with guns. We
come with smiles and flowers, extend our hands and say: ‘God bless
you!’”
The orator was swept away with the melodious sound of his own voice. He
replaced his crushed hat and extended his hand in a smile of glowing
enthusiasm.
With a sudden crash the silver-mounted riding-whip whistled through the
air and tore through the orator’s tile. The battered hat fell into
pieces and dropped to the ground revealing an ugly red lane across the
great man’s shining bald pate.
Barker was too dumfounded to dodge or protest. The thing happened with
such swiftness, it had stunned him into silence.
Pike danced nervously on first one foot and then the other, lifting his
hands in little attempts at apologies.
“Hats off in the presence of your superiors!” the General thundered.
Pike’s hat was already off. He hadn’t ventured to put it on. Still he
ducked his head instinctively and then rushed into the breach.
“My dear General,” he pleaded. “You do not understand, I am sure. No
possible offense could have been intended by my distinguished colleague.
It is the custom of our country often to speak with hats on in the open
air. The Honorable Plato Barker is a veteran outdoor speaker, your
Excellency. He is one of the most distinguished men in America--”
“That is nothing to me,” the General curtly interrupted. “He stands in
the presence of an officer of his Imperial Majesty’s Army. Your greatest
civilian is my inferior. Keep that in mind when in the presence of your
superiors--proceed!”
Barker was too astonished and hurt to say more. For the first time in
his illustrious career as a peddler of words, he had failed to move his
audience to accept his wares at any price. His world had collapsed. He
could only rub the swelling red line on his head and glance uneasily
about his unpromising surroundings.
The preacher’s hour had struck. He rose grandly to the occasion. His
manner was the quintessence of courtly deference, nervously anxious
deference.
“My name is Pike,” he began tremblingly--“the Reverend A. Cuthbert Pike,
D.D., president of the American Peace Union--”
“Proceed, Cuthbert!” was the short answer.
“We have come, your Excellency--“ he paused and bowed low--“to initiate
here today for all the world a constructive policy that will eliminate
the necessity for war. Our plan is the appeal to reason.
“We marvel at the amazing delusion that has led Europe into this
unprovoked and unnecessary assault. Nobody wants war--least of all I’m
sure the great General who knows its full horrors.
“The only question, therefore, is how best to prevent it. This nation
has always been too strong, too great in the consciousness of her
strength, to desire war. We have sixteen million men ready to die at our
call! Why should we sacrifice their precious lives? To what end if we
can by any means save them?
“The prime cause, your Excellency--“ again he bowed low--“of war is
excessive armament--”
The General laughed heartily, and adjusted his glasses for a better look
at Pike. The little man was slightly flustered at this act of uncertain
import, but went on bravely in spite of Barker’s look of dejection.
“We proclaim it to all nations that we are not ready to fight, and that
we are glad of it because it is not possible in this condition for us to
threaten or bully anyone! An unarmed man has ten chances to one over the
armed man in keeping out of trouble!”
Again the General laughed and looked the preacher over from head to
foot.
“Boundaries,” Pike proceeded, “when armed constantly provoke clashes of
the forces on either side. Boundaries unarmed, as the long line between
us and Canada, promote fellowship and good will.
“We say to your Excellency, come let us reason together. We are
determined not to be dragged into war. We have negotiated thirty
treaties with the nations of the world, some of whom your army
represents, providing for a year’s delay before hostilities can begin.
“We claim our rights under these solemn treaties and ask of you an
armistice for twelve months for the discussion of our differences.
“Name your demands and we will lay them before our Congress. Tell us
your real mission and we will help you to accomplish it. Make us your
friends and fellow workers. Why have you come?”
“I’ll tell you,” snapped the General. “For two hundred years you have
been keeping a great pigsty on this continent, in which swine have
rooted and fattened on the abundance of nature which you haven’t had the
brains to conserve.
“Well--it’s time to clean up and make sausage! We have come for that
work. We have come to teach a race of slatterns the first principles of
law, order and human efficiency. We have come to clean this pigpen, put
swine-herders into aprons and give them the honor of serving their
superiors--and therefore for the first time in life doing something
worth while.
“You are sick with overeating and much prosperity. Our Emperor sends you
a tonic of blood and iron warranted to cure all ills. Our benign
sovereign is the world’s physician. He takes his crown and divine
commission from God alone. On him the Divine Spirit has descended. In
his luminous mind is the wisdom of the ages. He who dares to oppose his
royal will shall be ground to powder beneath the iron heel of his
soldiers. You speak of a hundred million people as if their opinion was
of the slightest value. Public opinion is the source of public ills. You
speak of treaties. Treaties are the thin disguises by which divinely
chosen leaders _conceal_ their ultimate aims!
“Might is right and the right can only be decided by the sword. War in
itself is the fiery furnace that tries man’s character. The dross
perishes. The pure gold shines with greater splendor. Efforts to abolish
war are foolish and immoral. Peace is not our aim or desire. The sight
of suffering does one good. The infliction of suffering does one more
good. This war will be conducted as ruthlessly as science and human
genius can make possible--”
He paused and turned to an orderly.
“The bald-headed one to the bakery! He has forfeited his life by daring
to purchase a horse that belongs to his Majesty. I graciously spare his
life. Tell my head cook to make him a scullion. If he’s any good report
to me at the end of the month and I’ll promote him to the honor of
acting as my valet. He has a beautiful voice. He could be trained to
yodel--”
Barker lifted his hand to protest and the orderly kicked him into a
trot. When he turned to protest, the bayonet changed his mind.
Pike watched his chief disappear with a groan of amazement.
The General and his staff gathered around the Reverend President of the
Peace Union with jovial faces. They were inclined to like him. He had
contributed something new to the hilarity of nations. They put on their
glasses, adjusted and removed them, adjusted them again, looked him up
and down, turned him around and wagged their heads gravely.
“Well, gentlemen,” the Commander laughed, “we’re all agreed that it’s a
rare specimen--the real question is--what is it?”
Each answer brought a roar of laughter.
“It looks like a man--”
“Can’t be!”
“It might have been once!”
“But not now!”
“A new microbe?”
“Sure--that’s it--the microbe Pacificus americanus!”
The preacher fidgeted in a sorry effort to smile with his tormentors.
“I suppose, of course, gentlemen,” Pike fluttered, “as I’m a tenderfoot
you will have your little jokes--it’s all in the day’s work--so to
speak--as it were!”
The Commander turned to a sergeant.
“Put an apron on this little man and make him a dishwasher--tin
dishes--he might ruin my silver--”
The officers roared.
“If he’s any good I’ll make a butler out of him. I like his whiskers.
They’re distinctly English--”
With a loud guffaw the staff dispersed and the General turned to his
tent.
Pike danced a little jig in his effort to recall the judge and correct
the error of his sentence.
The sergeant gave him a resounding smack on the side of his head that
spun him round like a top.
Pike was livid with rage. He bristled like a bantam rooster for a minute
to the amazement of his guard.
“Don’t do that! Don’t do it--don’t do it again! Upon my soul, this
surpasses human belief, sir! I shall denounce the whole proceeding in a
series of resolutions that will resound over this nation--mark my word!”
The soldier waited until Pike’s breath ran short and then kicked him
three feet, lifting him clear of the ground. When the preacher struck he
fell flat on his face.
The blow took out of him what wind there was left.
He scrambled to his feet and edged out of reach.
“I--I--return--good for evil, sir--“ he stammered at last. “I bless them
that despitefully use me--God bless you!”
The soldier snorted with rage and gave him another kick, crying: “The
same to you! And many of ’em!”
When Pike scrambled to his feet again and wiped the dust out of his lips
he shook his head in despair:
“God bless my soul! God bless my soul!”
The Sergeant grinned in his face.
“Cheer up, Cuthbert, you’ll soon be dead!”
Ten minutes later he thrust poor Pike into the kitchen inclosure and
shouted to the cook:
“The sooner you kill him the better--go as far as you like!”