menu_book Chapter 13

Chapter 12 of His Wisdom the Defender, a Story, by Simon Newcomb. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Terry Cronin. Chapter 12. Our Hero Makes a Clean Breast. The position in which Campbell was placed by the Herald-Article was one of the greatest perplexity.

Had it appeared a month later, when his preparations for action were complete, he would have cared but little. The real trouble was not that the article had revealed his plans. his interview with the ambassadors had gone far to relieve the public mind on that score, but that public attention had been pointedly called to what it was in his power to do if he chose. History tells us that when horses were in use,

it was necessary to cover their eyes with pieces of leather known as blinders, which kept them from seeing in any direction except straight ahead. The reason was that these animals were extremely timid and liable to be frightened out of their senses by any unusual object in motion around them and thus jump about in such a manner as to endanger both carriage and occupants.

But if the driver could merely turn the horse's head so that the blinders would prevent his seeing the object and could forcibly keep him from looking at it, then the horse, although if he could be said to know anything, must have known that the dreadful thing was still there,

was immediately reassured. In fact, he feared only what he could see, not what he knew to exist out of his sight. It was a good deal the same way with the world at this most critical moment in its history.

What it could see was one man in possession of the power of doing almost anything he pleased to, or with, his fellow men. This caused it universal concern, and so it wanted him deprived of his power. The world knew well that if his power was taken from him, and placed in the hands of any nation or of any combination of nations,

the case would be yet worse, because while an individual might lead a nation to conquest, he could not well engage in conquest himself without having a nation behind him. But this greater danger was not existent at the moment, and so was relegated to the background. The newspapers, with the Herald at their head, living on excitement, poured forth an unceasing stream of rumours, reports, and suggestions as to what Campbell intended to do, or might do,

or had done, and added to the turmoil and uncertainty by contradicting each other, not to say themselves, as often as possible. Under these circumstances, the Herald article had much the effect of the appearance of a wolf in the midst of a flock of sheep. But what was to be done? At first nothing definite was proposed, but in a couple of days the scattered thoughts of the frightened public began to take a common direction, and loud calls were made on

the President to send a regiment of soldiers to Campbelltown and take possession of the entire place, its owner included. What good this would do when the owner could escape through the air with as many moats as he might choose to take, and if his intentions were really those attributed to him, could do what he pleased to his assailants, no one stopped to inquire. Curiously enough, for some twenty-four hours a number of European journals joined in this cry. But it only took

them one day to see that such a proceeding, if it were successful, would only result in placing the destiny of Europe in the hands of the most powerful and united country in the world, which, though noted for its justice and respect for international law, had for half a century been ambitious to rule. Then the cry changed to one for a union of European nations to offer an unbroken front to any invasion or attack that might hereafter be attempted either by the owner

of the moats or the American government. What increased Campbell's depression was that he stood alone, without, so far as he knew, either support or sympathy from any quarter whatsoever. Gein was the only man completely acquainted with his plans, and he was only a trusted assistant, in no way a representative man. Winthrop, on whom he expected most to rely, was absent on his European mission. He had visited London, Paris, Madrid, Rome, and Vienna, and was now in Berlin

conferring with German publicists. In each capital visited, he had selected a few of the most sagacious and enlightened professors of international law, one or two of whom were to be invited to the conference which Campbell had planned to hold. Four of these men, from England, France, and Italy, were with him as the nucleus of the proposed assemblage. His plan was to go from Berlin to St. Petersburg,

and then to China and Japan. Campbell's idea was that, as the whole subject was thought over and talked over by these men, the absolute necessity of a universal disarmament and abandonment of war would be evident.

Then the way in which this could be brought about would be discussed from day to day. The international rules, which he had long been thinking over, would be laid before them. And he was sure that the more these rules were examined and discussed,

the more apparent would be their wisdom, feasibility, and justice, if only nations could be brought to accept them. A distinct goal being thus brought plainly in sight, the method of reaching it would be the next subject of study. When all other means had been shown impracticable or doubtful, then would Campbell for the first time propose his drastic plan of using force. Severe though this measure might be, it would only be directed toward the enforcement of written law.

Such being the case, he had not fully unfolded his plans even to Winthrop. and now the latter was away on his mission when his counsel was most wanted. A change of program was necessary. The Herald article that precipitated a crisis in which the well-considered and leisurely proceedings he had intended were impossible.

You must either retire or go on as rapidly as possible at all hazards. The day after the visit of the ambassadors, he telegraphed Winthrop to return immediately, bringing with him for consultation such of the publicists as were willing to come. The message was not unexpected by the recipient,

and the second morning after the Frida was at Campbelltown with Brinthrop and the five European professors. The two leaders met in Campbell's private office. The first greetings were exchanged. Well, you have set the world in an uproar.

I cannot deny the impeachment. The question is, what am I to do? The situation seems to me a very difficult and perplexing one. I hope you have some way of getting out of it. My reason and my feelings are so much at variance

that I find my resolution trembling in the balance. I have sent for you because I need sympathy as no man before ever needed it. I hope I may add support also, but I am not yet sure whether you are ready to support all my plans. I can speak better when I know them. Let me repeat what I said to you the day of the launching.

I told you my conviction that the more firm and aggressive my policy, so long as I keep within the bounds of law, the better for humanity. Under our system of international law, the first nation that can get possession of a fleet of moats will have power to make all other nations its vassals. Its right to do this, if it can, is

recognized. To clarify our ideas, and not mislead you, let me say that this law was not altogether bad in the past, because the nation that could overcome in battle was the one that possessed in the highest degree those qualities of intellect, enterprise, courage, and patriotism which fitted it to rule weaker peoples for their good. But this is no longer the case when the conqueror is merely the first nation that chances to get a fleet of moats. We must, therefore, secure the independence

of nations and peoples by law. Now, we cannot discuss the situation profitably unless we have some previously defined basis to start from. Allow me, therefore, to say that I have for years past, in fact, ever since I discovered that moats were possible, been perfecting a system of laws to govern the relations of nations. I want you to study them and tell me what you think of them. I also want you to submit them to the counsellors you have brought from Europe to be discussed

and amended by them. Here they are. Read them. Winthrop read aloud, Article I. There shall be no more war. An excellent provision if you could enforce it, but how are you going to prevent nations from going to war? What are armies and navies for except to fight? I am glad you put the question in that form, because that is just what I am asking myself. Now read on and see my answer. Article II. There shall hereafter be no armies or navies, except such as shall be necessary

to the protection of life and property within the state to which they belong. That is also very good, but how are you ever going to induce nations to give up armies and navies? One will always be waiting for another to disband first, even after they all agree to disband. Perhaps in a few hundred years they will do it, little by little, but in our time, never. First, let me ask, will it be a good thing, under present circumstances, if war, armies and navies be all abolished, and the relations of

nations governed by law? Well, to that question there can be no two answers. My objection is not in the desirability, but to the possibility of the end. Very well. Suppose I abolish the armies and navies of Europe by force. Winthrop looked at his companion in astonishment. Why, my dear friend, you nearly take my breath away. Is this really the object of keeping Gein's expedition out of sight and hearing? It is. But you told the ambassadors it was not armed. It is not. I do

not propose to use a weapon of any sort except in self-defense. I have for a year been perfecting my plan in the minutest details. Nothing remains but to put it into execution if I can. But what right have you, a private individual, to make war, for war it will be, on your own account? So far as existing law goes, none whatever, no more than I have to batter down the door of a man's house and enter it by force to keep it from burning down. I hold that the might which God has

placed in my hands makes right in such an emergency as the present one. But do you seriously believe that you have the physical force to disarm all Europe? I cannot speak with entire confidence, but I think I have. If I cannot do more, I can at least demonstrate the uselessness of the existing armies, and thus pave the way for voluntary disbandment. I feel confident I can bring the nations of Europe to terms of some kind. The speaker rose to his feet and continued his

discourse with an energy that took his interlocutor quite by surprise. Let us rise above our petty surroundings and look into the future. If I succeed in my efforts, if I induce or force the nations to accept the principle that all international differences are to be settled by impartial tribunals of statesmen and publicists, if I thus introduce an era of universal peace, what will the world of the future say? What will you say? Winthrop also arose and paced the floor

in meditation. Then he began to be imbued with some of the feelings of his companion. You will be the greatest benefactor of the human race that the modern world has seen. That is enough. Now let me tell you what I want of you. I have long felt that if I should succeed in having my plans accepted by the world, I would want you as my leading official advisor, for a time at least, perhaps for good. Will you accept a position that I hope will be among the

most brilliant the world can offer, if the time should come? Is it necessary to decide in advance? No, not absolutely. I only want to know your sentiments because I want your help in the meantime. Well, let me explain. You know that tomorrow I am to meet the foreign representatives and the leading dignitaries of this country. I shall make what will be as good as a clean breast of my plans, omitting details. I want you to be present and receive as my representative.

Immediately after my address, I shall disappear. Remember, above all, that I do not want to involve you in any way. I shall trade the wine press alone, and you can proclaim yourself as in no way responsible for me or my doings. I want you to stay here, or at Washington, as you deem best, and see people. But first of all, I shall leave with you a number of printed copies of the proposed laws. I want you to lay them before our councillors and invite them to study and perfect

them by amendments. Very likely they will decline, lest their own governments hold them guilty of high treason. If so, let them return to their homes, and you can make the laws public as soon as you please. Before our own authorities, you can disclaim all responsibility for my acts. You have neither aided nor abetted them in any way. You are simply one of my acquaintances, perhaps the one who has most influence with me. I do not know whether you can reach me by telegraph.

When you can, you may send me news, but I am not desirous of any word of discouragement. Allow me one word before we part, said Winthrop. You are not sure of success. Is there not something desperate in your resolve to risk everything in a single bold venture? What will become of you? What will become of your moats? What will become of all of us if you are driven to succumb? Is it not better, after all, to wait, watch the course of events, and make some arrangement with

the world. Here and again you fail to grasp the logic of a situation. The world will come to no conclusion until it knows by actual experience what the moats can do. If I fail, if I am forced to desist from my attempt, I can still say, behold what a terrible power you see before you. What will you do to regulate it and ensure that it shall only be used for the benefit of humanity? Then, especially with my solution of the problem before it, the world will certainly be in a better

position to reach a conclusion than it is now. I will explain this view in my address tomorrow. I do not see that we can profitably discuss the subject any further at present. Please return to the Concordia tomorrow at one o'clock and go with me to Washington. I shall see that our publicists are included in the invitation. Till then, adieu. Just before the appointed hour, the Concordia was seen hovering over the State Department,

her motto, freshly gilt, shining in the sun. She came slowly and majestically to the ground in front of the building, and then threw out sumptuous steps covered with velvet on which the guests could mount into her. A crowd of policemen kept order in the precincts, and the attendants of the Concordia, in the white livery of the owner's messengers, challenged all who came to the steps, admitting only the invitees. Arriving on the main deck,

the guests were ushered into a spacious room, fitted up with a splendor which must have required many months of work. Here they were received by Mr. Winthrop, who for the moment represented the owner of the moats, with a ceremonious formality quite unlooked for. An usher inquired the official rank of each guest and introduced him by his proper title. First came His Excellency, the President of the United States. Then the Honorable Secretary of State of the United States. He was

followed by the Senior Member of the Diplomatic Corps, His Excellency, the Ambassador Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary of His Majesty the Tsar of all the Russias, and so on to the end. the formality, and the temporary absence of the principal figure caused some uneasiness among the foreign guests. If a coup d'etat, the sudden assumption of a more than impartial authority over the affairs of the world, was really intended, a better opportunity could not have been found.

All governments important enough to be in diplomatic communication with the leading country were represented here in the persons of their ambassadors. Could it be that the latter were entrapped into something in the nature of a coronation? Would they find the owner of the boats in the gorgeous robes of his self-assumed office. All that Winthrop could do to allay their apprehensions was to excuse the momentary absence of the owner, who was in the adjoining saloon

preparing his address. Great, therefore, was the relief of all when the man they were looking for stepped in as plainly clad as the rest. Even the red button of the Legion of Honor of France, which he habitually wore on ceremonial occasions, was, with obvious propriety, replaced by a rose. Each guest was presented. Then the whole party followed Campbell into the saloon.

At the farther end stood a table at which two secretaries were seated, one of whom had a pile of papers before him. Beyond the table was seen in artistically illuminated letters the lines, When the war drum throbs no longer, and the battle flag is furled, in the Parliament of Man, the Federation of the World.

Campbell took his seat at the table while the guests were being seated around the saloon. When all was still, he arose amid breathless silence and began to read his address from the printed sheets, handed him by one of the secretaries, while the other took each sheet as its reading was completed.

He began with picturing the extraordinary crisis which the building of the moats was to make in the history of the world and the revolution which they would necessarily create in the relations of nations. The whole picture was drawn from the point of view

of an impartial looker-on belonging to no one country and not even bound to any one stage of civilization. Jew and Gentile, bond and free, European, African and Asiatic were all considered as having equal rights. Then the results of using moats in warfare were touched upon. The world at large had already seen these results so clearly that there was no need of depicting them.

One thing was evident. There could logically be only one more war. The outcome of the first war would be to make the conquering nation, whichever it might be, the master of the world. That nation would not be the strongest or the most civilized, but simply the one that should first get possession of a fleet of motes. The reasons why such a result were not to be tolerated were fully set forth. Was it then possible to make any arrangements by which the practice of war should be continued,

and yet the motes be neutralized by an international agreement that they should never be used in warfare? If such an agreement was made, would all implicitly rely on its performance? Who could decide what use in warfare might mean? It would doubtless be easy to say that no troops will be transported in the moats under any circumstances, but how would it be with military supplies? How would it be with supplies necessary for defending a port? Would there not be something

illogical in a people submitting to seeing its territory invaded, its fortifications bombarded, and its cities occupied by a foreign power, when it had a most efficient and certain means of defense within its reach, which, however, it had agreed not to use? Self-preservation is the first law of nature, for a nation as for an individual. I ask you and your consciences, excellencies and gentlemen, whether any one of the nations which you represent would wage war upon another,

having in its hands the means to repel attack with entire confidence that such means would not be called into requisition? I am sure your answer would be in the negative, and this would be equivalent to admitting that war is no longer to be waged. If, then, we are to have no more war, are we still to have armies? These have no purpose except to fight. If a nation is resolved to fight no more, it has no use for an army. To maintain one will be making known to all other nations

that it still had war in view. No obvious course seems open short of all nations coming together and agreeing each and all to absolutely abolish their military establishments. Such a course cannot for a moment be expected of them. No matter what agreement may be made, every one will wait for the others. It is impossible that all should keep step in full confidence that every other would accept the situation without reserve. No government would

feel justified in going before its people with a proposition to disband all its armies unconditionally until it had satisfied itself as to the means of defense it might then have against encroachments. What, then, is the situation? The world stands on a slumbering volcano whose fires it has no means to quench, and from which it has no avenue of escape by its own act. Who brought it there? The man who has the honour to address you. What is the duty of one that has brought on such a crisis,

to carry the world safely through it if he can? What can he do? The answer is uncertain until he makes the attempt. It is still uncertain whether I possess the power to disarm and disband the armies of the world and to haul as navies ashore. These words produced among those who heard them what might be described as a shock of silence. Every one started as if by an electric stroke, but uttered no word. The speaker continued. But if I should possess this power, then the question

will arise whether the best interests of humanity do not demand its immediate exercise. If I should now proceed, without bloodshed, to disarm and disband the armies of the world, to haul its navies ashore, to assure for myself and my successors in office the title and functions of Defender of the Peace of the World, as such defender to move all nations to the establishment of a central tribunal for the arbitration of all international questions, and for the

exercise of supreme power over the system of international communication which I am now organizing, if I should thus put an end to war and assure to all nations and peoples the blessings of security and peace forever, then, whatever my contemporaries might think of my acts, would not all future generations call me blessed? Gentlemen, I am not here to conceal any thought from you.

If you should ask me how I think and feel on this question, I would answer thus. When I reflect, on the one hand, how great the labor and how heavy the responsibility which I should assume by the policy I have indicated, and on the other how easy it is to let events take their course and leave humanity to guard its own interests, I shrink from the task.

But when I reflect that perhaps it is within my power so to guide the course of events that never again in human history shall father, son, or brother take leave of his loved ones to expose his person in battle, that never again shall a seaport fear the bombardment of a navy, that never again shall a city fear the attack of an army, that never again shall a people groan under a war tax, that never again shall the nation tremble for its independence. I feel moved to

action by a power which I doubt my ability to resist. These concluding words were spoken with a pathos which added to their force, and at the same time, if it were possible, calm the feelings which they were fitted to excite. Printed copies of the address were circulated among the guests. The latter were so moved that they scarcely knew what to do first. As a matter of official duty, it was necessary for the ambassadors to telegraph the address immediately to their respective

governments, but they also wanted to confer together. To some it seemed necessary to give a word of warning to the owner of the moats as to the grave consequences of entering upon such a policy as he had indicated. A few hurried words were exchanged with the President and the Secretary of State. All the ambassadors had time to say was, you had better not attempt it, count the cost. Mr. President, Mr. Secretary, the moats are under the control of a citizen of your country.

Give him due warning. The President simply remarked, I trust you will listen to what will be said on the subject. Let the Secretary of State speak. Mr. Campbell, said the Secretary, when you were in my office a few days since, I asked you as to your reason for maintaining in such secrecy, at some distant and unknown point, the expedition which you had sent out. Your answer to my question was evasive. Now an answer is no longer necessary. We conclude, and the world will

conclude, that the expedition is an armed one, intending to attack countries with which the United States is at peace. You are a man of intelligence and learning, and you are doubtless acquainted with the neutrality laws of your country. I feel it my duty to go outside the usual limits of my official position and ask you to reflect upon the consequences of such an act as you propose. You know what my painful duty will be should you enter upon it, and you cannot need

any assurance from me that it will be performed, come what may. We must now leave you to your own reflections. Again to Campbell's ear the voice, audible to none but him, repeated its maxim, he who would wield the power of a god must bear the responsibility of a god. In the excitement of the moment, the visitors had overlooked a feature of their reception in which they might have seen some significance.

Among the two or three people who were in the room when they were presented to the owner of the moats was one of the leading artists of New York, who quietly remained in the background during the entire course of the proceedings. He was behind a screen at Campbell's right in the farthest corner of the room. His head could be seen over the screen,

behind which he was sketching the outlines of a picture. This was the origin of what is now one of the historic pictures of the world. The original is well known to every visitor who is called at the Defender's Palace in Uraniburg. A replica is one of the great attractions at the Metropolitan Museum in New York.

As soon as the last visitor had departed, the Concordia sailed away for Campbelltown. There, Campbell had everything ready for the instant departure of a second expedition under his personal command. No one was surprised when, shortly after dark, a hundred motes, most of which had been fitting out for several days,

rose in the air and disappeared towards the north. The departure was, of course, telegraphed immediately to all the journals of the world. The urgent inquiries made by correspondents and others of the superintendent left at charge at Campbelltown failed to reveal anything further as the intentions were projected movements of the owner.

Winthrop alone was in possession of the essential part of the secret, and he refused to say,