CLOUDS ON THE HORIZON
In the mean time, John Toker and Helmer were chatting in the salon. The
two men were sitting in the embrasure of one of the windows behind a
screen of tall, big-leafed plants, and were unseen and undisturbed.
“This would seem an admirable place for a pair to flirt in,” remarked
Toker, as he led his guest to it; “but this privacy will also suit us. I
have as yet had no good opportunity to thank you for your address;
moreover, this afternoon, I have read the translation of it, and so only
now realize how completely our ideas and aims are in agreement. You say
quite rightly, mankind has reached the turning of the ways. Either—Or.
It truly cannot continue as it is. Therefore, we must put forth all our
energies, even if our energies are of no great magnitude. And I have a
high opinion of the power of the pen; it can charm in a playful way; but
it can also be a very mighty instrument of harm and of help.”
“What you say, Mr. Toker, reminds me of a conversation which I had not
long ago with a fellow-countryman, a boyhood friend of mine. He asked me
how I could devote my art, my talent to the service of politics and such
inartistic objects. I answered, ‘Because there is a fire, my dear
friend. And if—in such a case—one holds in one’s hands a brimming
pitcher, one uses it to quench the flames and not to water flowers.’”
“Quite right; so let us put out the fire. News which has reached me
to-day makes me fear that there is going to be a great disturbance. The
work which we are doing here—the exerting of influence on thinking
men—proceeds—quite too slowly, I am sorry to say—in spite of all our
apparatus for wide publicity.”
“Yes,” agreed Helmer; “it is a dribbling, instead of a flood. Before
minds gradually change, the avalanche of collected stupidity comes
rolling down and buries the whole region. Here I am speaking in
metaphors again.... I keep detecting myself in this habit. Prince Victor
Adolph thought that pardonable in a poet. Now, that I think of it: this
prince—in spite of his position—is on our side in all his inclinations,
and so—precisely because of his position—he might successfully help us
in the endeavor to put out the fire.”
“I had the very same idea. You know his reputation?”
“More than that: I know his inclinations.” And Helmer related the
interview which he had held that very same day with the prince.
“Well, he seems to be a splendid young man,” said Toker. “To-morrow, at
eleven o’clock, he is coming to see me, in order to plan a campaign. The
rescue, the saving of the lives of a hundred thousand people—that is to
be the object of our conspiracy. He just told me....”
“Just told you? Is he here?”
“Yes, he came at my invitation. At this instant he is on the terrace, as
my daughter told me, and is sitting in the moonlight very sentimentally
talking with Miss Garlett.”
Helmer made a sudden motion and suppressed a groan. This did not escape
the older man’s attention.
“Oh, Herr Helmer, is that disagreeable to you? Perhaps you are somewhat
sentimentally inclined to your pretty table-companion and
fellow-countrywoman yourself?... That would be quite natural. Don’t
shake your head...young men are quite properly in love; I like to see
it. I will not detain you ... go out on the terrace and interrupt the
flirtation, if you object to it. It would be much better for the young
lady if she should incline her heart to you....”
“Good Heavens! I could not enter into competition with the prince ... if
things are actually as you seem to think.”
“Why not? ‘Faint heart never won fair lady.’”
“You yourself, Mr. Toker, set me very different tasks from that of
winning a maiden’s heart.”
“Hold on! Hold on!... I am no fanatic, no man of one idea. To work for a
great public object does not require that a man should give himself body
and soul to this affair. One must not neglect one’s duties toward one’s
own happiness. When one has the foundation of domestic content, of
cheerful peace of mind, one can work much more effectively for a great
cause. It gives harmony and balance. And then, energy grows out of it as
a tree springs out of a rich soil—you see, I can also speak in figures.
Well, good-bye for now. I will go around among my guests for a little
while longer. To-morrow we will take up our plot again.”
Helmer hastened out on the terrace: not as Mr. Toker had advised, to
break up the flirtation, but to observe it. Yet in spite of his zeal to
find that which would cause him misery—he found nothing: the couple was
not to be seen on the terrace.
Franka had been for some time in her room. She did not turn on the
light, but went out on the balcony and threw herself into her
rocking-chair. She wanted to think over what had occurred in the very
same atmosphere in which it had occurred—in the fragrant moonlit, summer
night.
She drew her lace shawl closer over her shoulders and leaned back in her
chair, rocking slowly to and fro. She recalled the words which had so
overwhelmed her with amazement. Again she seemed to hear distinctly the
accent in which “Franka, I love you” had been spoken and the still more
momentous “You must not for an instant misunderstand me: I offer you my
hand.” _My hand_—_my hand_ ... like a refrain which runs in one’s head
these words sang themselves to her, and here again were the same warm
breath of the night, the same penetrating perfume of violets which
emanated from the already half-faded bouquet that she wore on her bosom.
He was in no hurry for a reply—so much the better! Had she given either
a hasty “Yes” or a hasty “No,” perhaps she might be even now regretting
it. So the decision was postponed: it was left to her free and
deliberate choice, whether she should seize this marvelous Future, big
with portentous eventualities, or reject it.... “Difficulties,
reserves.”... Her pride revolted ... why had she not said “No” on the
spot? But is it not true—a king’s son: such a step is not taken so
easily. And it would involve sacrifices, renunciations, struggles....
That very morning she had been anticipating with some longing a
thunderstorm of love—to tell the truth, the image of another lover had
arisen in her mind; now in truth such a storm had burst upon her, but it
had not brought any relief to her mental strain. In the dazzling
lightning-stroke of that declaration of love by the one, the image of
the other had grown somewhat pale, but was not wholly obliterated.
Evidently this other did not love her. He had constantly shown himself
active in promoting the interests of Victor Adolph; that very evening in
the hall....
“Are you there, Franka?” It was Frau von Rockhaus. She had turned on the
light in the room and was now standing in the balcony door. “I did not
see you any longer downstairs and supposed that you had gone to bed....
Why didn’t you call me?”
“I knew that you would soon be following. It is pretty late.”
“That was a very pronounced wooing this evening,” observed Frau
Eleonore. “Did he propose at last?”
“Who?”
“Who! The prince, of course!”
“You are inquisitive, dear Eleonore. Let us go to bed. I am sleepy.
Good-night.”
She rang for her maid and went to her bedroom. But she found no rest.
Victor Adolph also spent a restless night. During the past forty-eight
hours events and impressions had been overwhelmingly sweeping in upon
him. That address of Helmer’s, opening new perspectives before his soul;
the tidings that perhaps a throne would be offered him; that conspiracy
for the advantage of the contemporary world, which John Toker wanted to
conduct with his assistance; and finally this summer night’s dream which
had ended with such a sudden and mighty flaming up of passion that he
had surrendered to it for all time....
The tormenting part of the situation was that he saw himself facing not
merely one, but several fateful questions. When he wanted to devote
himself to thoughts of his beloved arose the vision of the beckoning
throne, and when he attempted to balance the chances and the obligations
which such a change of conditions would bring with it, then arose the
image of the woman whom he loved—to whom he had offered his hand. And
what difficulties heaped themselves up before him! What battles there
would be! Had not this step been indiscreet? Aye, that it had; but is
passion ever discreet?
When the prince, agreeably to his promise, reached Toker’s study the
next morning, Toker had already gone through his mail. He had found
various additional particulars which tended more than ever to arouse his
fears regarding the threatened dangers. He went to meet the exalted
visitor.
“You are very punctual, Prince.”
Newspapers and letters were arranged on a round center-table.
“Please, let us sit down without delay; I have put in order the various
papers which might serve to show my motives for the action I have in
mind.”
“I have faith in your action, Mr. Toker, without your proving motives,”
said the prince, as he took his place at the table.
Toker followed his example and put a few English, French, and German
newspapers before him. “Please read first of all the passages marked in
blue pencil.”
“Those are sheer alarmist prognostications,” remarked the prince, after
he had glanced through the designated passages. “‘War-in-sight’ news.
And actually maps—already—of the probable seat of war!”
“And now read the passages marked in red.”
“Bad news again: bomb-throwing ... strikes ... conspiracy ...
lynchings ... hunger-revolts ... riots....”
“In other words, we are facing a war on the one hand and a revolution on
the other.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Toker, but perhaps you take the matter too tragically,”
said the prince, pushing the papers to one side. “The rumors of wars are
apparently false or are merely incitements—we have been reading the like
for many years regularly in the papers and yet nothing comes of them.
These revolutionary attacks do happen here and there and are always
speedily suppressed: order is immediately restored.”
“Yes, yes, it has been smouldering now for a number of years. But we
must not wait until the flames break out; it is time for us to trample
out the sparks.” Toker spoke these last words in a wrathful tone.
“Patience ceases to be a virtue,” he went on to say, “when it consists
in allowing misfortune to approach; then it should be called simply
unconcern. Now read this also.” He handed the prince some letters and
telegrams for him to glance over. “Those are private communications from
parties in a position to be well informed. They show much more clearly
than the news published in the papers that the evil so much talked about
is ready to appear.”
The prince read the letters and dispatches carefully. “In truth,” was
his comment, “things do look a bit threatening. What do you propose, Mr.
Toker, in order to avert the danger? And do you think there is still
time enough?”
“The term ‘too late’ should never be allowed when the question concerns
a work of help or rescue. As you yourself just remarked, for a number of
years conflicts have cropped up in the most varied places; panics have
been precipitated; people have been getting ready for the conflict; the
catastrophe has been generally expected, and then nothing has come of
it. In early times it was not so. When the well-known black speck
appeared on the political horizon, one could expect a storm with
certainty. Now new forces have entered into the world, which have
succeeded in driving away the clouds. The peaceable intentions of the
rulers have been strengthened; the pugnacity of the nations has been
curbed—the world is gradually changing. And perhaps these perils
also”—he pointed to the newspapers and letters—“will be dissipated and
there will be time to act. Only we must not delay. If we allow things to
go on unchecked, the crash must come.”
“Well, what is to be done? And what could _I_ do to help? A little
princelet like me—I need not tell you—has no power and no liberty. Even
at this minute, while I am engaging in this conspiracy with you behind
the back of my honorary jailer, General Orell, I am deeply involving
myself in disgrace!”
Toker smiled. “This is not your first offense, as I have reason to
suspect. Your attendance at popular meetings is well known; your
predilection for the reading of sociological books, not receivable at
court, is well known. But for the very reason that you have a knowledge
of the problems of the day and an open mind, I have turned to you. So,
then, listen—this is the thing:—A new Hague Conference is about to be
opened....”
“Pardon me,” interrupted Victor Adolph, “these conferences have so far
failed to bring about the change expected of them.”
“Still, they have brought something significant, new, and great into the
world—the generality of the people certainly know very little about
them. They have not attained their object for the reason that they have
been diverted from that object by their own members:—an article was
smuggled into the programme that had no business to be there—regulation
of war:—for a large proportion of the delegates consisted either of
soldiers or adherents of sovereignty. These men were assiduous in
keeping the old principles safe from the danger with which they were
threatened by the conference as originally proposed—that is, from
compulsory arbitration and limitation of armament. But the old
principles have not remained entirely intact, for there were also
representatives of the new ideas at The Hague, who fortunately achieved
the foundation of new institutions. Imagine a congress of freethinkers
in which the majority of the delegates were bishops and where the larger
part of the time was spent in discussing the regulation of ritualistic
forms!... There you have a picture of the first Hague Peace Congresses.
But I am speaking of the next one. Since the last one, things have
ripened. Since then, the desire for peace has strengthened among all the
governments, and especially among the masses. Since then the waste of
money on armaments has reached such dimensions that universal bankruptcy
is at hand. Since then, the battleships have grown into such monsters,
and all the other instruments of death and destruction have attained
such fiendish power, that they serve not so much for fighting as for
combined self-annihilation.... Since then, the common people have been
brought to the end of their endurance by loans and taxes and high
prices. Since then, the proletariat, always hostile to war, has more and
more come to a realization of its solidarity and power. Since then, so
many friendships, treaties, and conventions have arisen that it needs
now only an impulse for a general European ‘Legal Union.’ Since then,
all the groups interested have combined in an international
organization. Since then, a world-conscience has come into being. Since
then, the atmosphere has been conquered. Since then, human thoughts have
attained wings.... Since then....”
The old gentleman had worked himself into a fine heat; he had got up,
and at every sentence his voice had grown louder. At the last “Since
then,” he suddenly stopped and sat down again. Then he went on in a
calmer tone:—
“Here we will pause—at the conception ‘Soaring Thoughts.’ The delegates
to the next conference are to be inspired with such thinking. They must
bring with them the resolution to accomplish something great, something
bold. The position of affairs has so entirely changed in the mean time,
with its promising new possibilities, and the dangers, so nearly
threatening, must be looked in the face unflinchingly. That would be our
salvation.”
“But what can I do in all this, Mr. Toker?”
“Prince, you by virtue of your rank can obtain the ear of those on whose
will the programme and the results of the conference depend.”
“And you believe that I could influence that?”
“You can explain. They will listen to you. You can show what golden
bridges this conference offers. You can bring it about that a peace
league of rulers shall be formed.”
“Rulers are the prisoners of their armies....”
“If they do not break these chains, which also at the same time bind the
peoples,—then the peoples will do it; and that would be terrible, like
every deed of despair.”
“And do you believe that the armies would consent to disband?”
“Who speaks about ‘disbanding’? If the States make an alliance for one
common international law, then their armies—the greatly reduced
armies—will unite for the protection of the laws that affect them all in
common, for defense against attacks from those that stand outside the
alliance, for the maintenance of internal order, for affording aid....”
“I understand....”
“Yes, I knew that you are one who would understand. But do you
understand also why I, an American, have the fate of Europe so deeply at
heart; why I want to see the Old World protected from a catastrophe, why
I likewise wish that its aristocratic and monarchical institutions, so
long ago with us outlived, should, at least for a time, remain intact?”
“Perhaps from an artistic sense,” suggested the prince, “just as we
preserve picturesque ruins.”
“‘Ruins’ is too strong a term; they are still proud and lofty castles;
only they are—let us say—a little dilapidated: a violent storm would
devastate them; they can still be safeguarded by rods. Again, why do I
feel and act for Europe? You must know that we Americans, at the bottom
of our hearts cherish a family-feeling for Europe. It is the cradle of
our race; it is the ultimate source of our civilization—physically and
spiritually, it is our ancestral fatherland. We love it and are thankful
to it. Therefore it comes about that, when we accomplish any great
technical advance or conceive some higher social or political ideal, we
immediately feel the impulse to let the ‘whole world’—and by that term
we think especially of Europe—share in it. We are like children who have
been educated far away, have made our fortune there, and regard it as a
pleasant duty to send back to the aged parents some share of the
treasures we have gained.... But let us return to our conspiracy,
Prince. You are not the only one with whom I am conspiring. I place my
mines in various localities. The Government at Washington is in the
alliance. The propositions which it will bring forward at the next
conference will not leave anything in the way of ‘High Thinking’ to be
desired. I have already spoken with the President of the French
Republic—”
“Yes—as I have mentioned before: Republicans—”
“No; that is not the condition. In order that something great may come
out of the conference, it is essential that it be approached with
magnanimous resolves; we must attempt not only a little step forward,
but we must attempt flying. I know one man, one powerful man, who is
capable of making such resolves and such a flight. And what I want of
you, Prince, is: Speak with the one man—he will listen to you—you are
his son!”