Oliver Brand was seated at his desk, on the evening of the next day,
reading the leading article of the New People, evening edition.
“We have had time,” he read, “to recover ourselves a little from the
intoxication of last night. Before embarking on prophecy, it will be as
well to recall the facts. Up to yesterday evening our anxiety with
regard to the Eastern crisis continued; and when twenty-one o’clock
struck there were not more than forty persons in London—the English
delegates, that is to say—who knew positively that the danger was over.
Between that moment and half-an-hour later the Government took a few
discreet steps: a select number of persons were informed; the police
were called out, with half-a-dozen regiments, to preserve order; Paul’s
House was cleared; the railroad companies were warned; and at the half
hour precisely the announcement was made by means of the electric
placards in every quarter of London, as well as in all large provincial
towns. We have not space now to adequately describe the admirable manner
in which the public authorities did their duty; it is enough to say that
not more than seventy fatalities took place in the whole of London; nor
is it our business to criticise the action of the Government, in
choosing this mode of making the announcement.
“By twenty-two o’clock Paul’s House was filled in every corner, the Old
Choir was reserved for members of Parliament and public officials, the
quarter-dome galleries were filled with ladies, and to the rest of the
floor the public was freely admitted. The volor-police also inform us
now that for about the distance of one mile in every direction round
this centre every thoroughfare was blocked with pedestrians, and, two
hours later, as we all know, practically all the main streets of the
whole of London were in the same condition.
“It was an excellent choice by which Mr. OLIVER BRAND was selected as
the first speaker. His arm was still in bandages; and the appeal of his
figure as well as his passionate words struck the first explicit note of
the evening. A report of his words will be found in another column. In
their turns, the PRIME MINISTER, Mr. SNOWFORD, the FIRST MINISTER OF THE
ADMIRALTY, THE SECRETARY FOR EASTERN AFFAIRS, and LORD PEMBERTON, all
spoke a few words, corroborating the extraordinary news. At a quarter
before twenty-three, the noise of cheering outside announced the arrival
of the American delegates from Paris, and one by one these ascended the
platform by the south gates of the Old Choir. Each spoke in turn. It is
impossible to appreciate words spoken at such a moment as this; but
perhaps it is not invidious to name Mr. MARKHAM as the orator who above
all others appealed to those who were privileged to hear him. It was he,
too, who told us explicitly what others had merely mentioned, to the
effect that the success of the American efforts was entirely due to Mr.
JULIAN FELSENBURGH. As yet Mr. FELSENBURGH had not arrived; but in
answer to a roar of inquiry, Mr. MARKHAM announced that this gentleman
would be amongst them in a few minutes. He then proceeded to describe to
us, so far as was possible in a few sentences, the methods by which Mr.
FELSENBURGH had accomplished what is probably the most astonishing task
known to history. It seems from his words that Mr. FELSENBURGH (whose
biography, so far as it is known, we give in another column) is probably
the greatest orator that the world has ever known—we use these words
deliberately. All languages seem the same to him; he delivered speeches
during the eight months through which the Eastern Convention lasted, in
no less than fifteen tongues. Of his manner in speaking we shall have a
few remarks to make presently. He showed also, Mr. MARKHAM told us, the
most astonishing knowledge, not only of human nature, but of every trait
under which that divine thing manifests itself. He appeared acquainted
with the history, the prejudices, the fears, the hopes, the expectations
of all the innumerable sects and castes of the East to whom it was his
business to speak. In fact, as Mr. MARKHAM said, he is probably the
first perfect product of that new cosmopolitan creation to which the
world has laboured throughout its history. In no less than nine
places—Damascus, Irkutsk, Constantinople, Calcutta, Benares, Nanking,
among them—he was hailed as Messiah by a Mohammedan mob. Finally, in
America, where this extraordinary figure has arisen, all speak well of
him. He has been guilty of none of those crimes—there is not one that
convicts him of sin—those crimes of the Yellow Press, of corruption, of
commercial or political bullying which have so stained the past of all
those old politicians who made the sister continent what she has become.
Mr. FELSENBURGH has not even formed a party. He, and not his underlings,
have conquered. Those who were present in Paul’s House on this occasion
will understand us when we say that the effect of those words was
indescribable.
“When Mr. MARKHAM sat down, there was a silence; then, in order to quiet
the rising excitement, the organist struck the first chords of the
Masonic Hymn; the words were taken up, and presently not only the whole
interior of the building rang with it, but outside, too, the people
responded, and the city of London for a few moments became indeed a
temple of the Lord.
“Now indeed we come to the most difficult part of our task, and it is
better to confess at once that anything resembling journalistic
descriptiveness must be resolutely laid aside. The greatest things are
best told in the simplest words.
“Towards the close of the fourth verse, a figure in a plain dark suit
was observed ascending the steps of the platform. For a moment this
attracted no attention, but when it was seen that a sudden movement had
broken out among the delegates, the singing began to falter; and it
ceased altogether as the figure, after a slight inclination to right and
left, passed up the further steps that led to the rostrum. Then occurred
a curious incident. The organist aloft at first did not seem to
understand, and continued playing, but a sound broke out from the crowd
resembling a kind of groan, and instantly he ceased. But no cheering
followed. Instead a profound silence dominated in an instant the huge
throng; this, by some strange magnetism, communicated itself to those
without the building, and when Mr. FELSENBURGH uttered his first words,
it was in a stillness that was like a living thing. We leave the
explanation of this phenomenon to the expert in psychology.
“Of his actual words we have nothing to say. So far as we are aware no
reporter made notes at the moment; but the speech, delivered in
Esperanto, was a very simple one, and very short. It consisted of a
brief announcement of the great fact of Universal Brotherhood, a
congratulation to all who were yet alive to witness this consummation of
history; and, at the end, an ascription of praise to that Spirit of the
World whose incarnation was now accomplished.
“So much we can say; but we can say nothing as to the impression of the
personality who stood there. In appearance the man seemed to be about
thirty-three years of age, clean-shaven, upright, with white hair and
dark eyes and brows; he stood motionless with his hands on the rail, he
made but one gesture that drew a kind of sob from the crowd, he spoke
these words slowly, distinctly, and in a clear voice; then he stood
waiting.
“There was no response but a sigh which sounded in the ears of at least
one who heard it as if the whole world drew breath for the first time;
and then that strange heart-shaking silence fell again. Many were
weeping silently, the lips of thousands moved without a sound, and all
faces were turned to that simple figure, as if the hope of every soul
were centred there. So, if we may believe it, the eyes of many,
centuries ago, were turned on one known now to history as JESUS OF
NAZARETH.
“Mr. FELSENBURGH stood so a moment longer, then he turned down the
steps, passed across the platform and disappeared.
“Of what took place outside we have received the following account from
an eye-witness. The white volor, so well known now to all who were in
London that night, had remained stationary outside the little south door
of the Old Choir aisle, poised about twenty feet above the ground.
Gradually it became known to the crowd, in those few minutes, who it was
who had arrived in it, and upon Mr. FELSENBURGH’S reappearance that same
strange groan sounded through the whole length of Paul’s Churchyard,
followed by the same silence. The volor descended; the master stepped on
board, and once more the vessel rose to a height of twenty feet. It was
thought at first that some speech would be made, but none was necessary;
and after a moment’s pause, the volor began that wonderful parade which
London will never forget. Four times during the night Mr. FELSENBURGH
went round the enormous metropolis, speaking no word; and everywhere the
groan preceded and followed him, while silence accompanied his actual
passage. Two hours after sunrise the white ship rose over Hampstead and
disappeared towards the North; and since then he, whom we call, in
truth, the Saviour of the world, has not been seen.
“And now what remains to be said?
“Comment is useless. It is enough to say in one short sentence that the
new era has begun, to which prophets and kings, and the suffering, the
dying, all who labour and are heavy-laden, have aspired in vain. Not
only has intercontinental rivalry ceased to exist, but the strife of
home dissensions has ceased also. Of him who has been the herald of its
inauguration we have nothing more to say. Time alone can show what is
yet left for him to do.
“But what has been done is as follows. The Eastern peril has been for
ever dissipated. It is understood now, by fanatic barbarians as well as
by civilised nations, that the reign of War is ended. ‘Not peace but a
sword,’ said CHRIST; and bitterly true have those words proved to be.
‘Not a sword but peace’ is the retort, articulate at last, from those
who have renounced CHRIST’S claims or have never accepted them. The
principle of love and union learned however falteringly in the West
during the last century, has been taken up in the East as well. There
shall be no more an appeal to arms, but to justice; no longer a crying
after a God Who hides Himself, but to Man who has learned his own
Divinity. The Supernatural is dead; rather, we know now that it never
yet has been alive. What remains is to work out this new lesson, to
bring every action, word and thought to the bar of Love and Justice; and
this will be, no doubt, the task of years. Every code must be reversed;
every barrier thrown down; party must unite with party, country with
country, and continent with continent. There is no longer the fear of
fear, the dread of the hereafter, or the paralysis of strife. Man has
groaned long enough in the travails of birth; his blood has been poured
out like water through his own foolishness; but at length he understands
himself and is at peace.
“Let it be seen at least that England is not behind the nations in this
work of reformation; let no national isolation, pride of race, or
drunkenness of wealth hold her hands back from this enormous work. The
responsibility is incalculable, but the victory certain. Let us go
softly, humbled by the knowledge of our crimes in the past, confident in
the hope of our achievements in the future, towards that reward which is
in sight at last—the reward hidden so long by the selfishness of men,
the darkness of religion, and the strife of tongues—the reward promised
by one who knew not what he said and denied what he asserted—Blessed
are the meek, the peacemakers, the merciful, for they shall inherit the
earth, be named the children of God, and find mercy.”
Oliver, white to the lips, with his wife kneeling now beside him, turned
the page and read one more short paragraph, marked as being the latest
news.
“It is understood that the Government is in communication with Mr.
Felsenburgh.”
