The primary purpose of the Conference was ostensibly to reach an agreement on colonial policy. The States were to come to an agreement not to support or assist religious movements on the territory of other States. The incentive to this step was the German agitation in the Congo and Senegambia, as well as the subterranean French influence behind the outbreak of Mahdism in Muslim countries under British rule, and particularly the shipments of Karburators from Japan to Bengal, where a furious revolt of the most diverse sects was raging.
The deliberations were held behind closed doors. The only news given out for publication was that spheres of interest had been allotted to Germany in Kurdistan and to Japan on certain Greek islands. It would seem that the Anglo-Japanese and the Franco-German-Russian alliances were on this occasion unusually cordial.
In the afternoon Mr. G. H. Bondy arrived on a special torpedo-boat, and was received in audience by the Supreme Council.
Not until about five o’clock (Greenwich time) did the illustrious diplomats sit down to luncheon, and it was here that I. Sawitt had the first opportunity of hearing with his own ears the representatives of the high contracting parties. After the meal they discussed sport and actresses. Sir W. O’Patterney, with his poet’s head with its white mane and soulful eyes, talked enthusiastically about salmon-fishing with His Excellency the French Premier, Dudieu, whose energetic gestures, loud voice, and a certain je ne sais quoi, revealed the former lawyer. Baron Yanato, refusing all liquid refreshment, listened silently and smiled as though his mouth were full of water. Dr. Wurm turned over his papers, General Buchtin walked up and down the room with Prince Trivelino, Horatio Bumm was making cannons all by himself on the billiard-table (I have myself seen his lovely overhand massé stroke, which would win the admiration of any expert), while Mr. Kei, looking like a very yellow and very withered old lady, fingered some kind of Buddhist rosary. He was a mandarin in his own Flowery Land.
Suddenly all the diplomats grouped themselves round M. Dudieu, who was explaining: “Yes, gentlemen, c’est ça. We cannot remain indifferent to Him. We must either recognize Him or deny Him. We Frenchmen are in favour of the latter course!”
“That’s because He’s showing himself such an anti-militarist in your country,” said Prince Trivelino with a certain malicious pleasure.
“No, gentlemen,” cried Dudieu, “don’t deceive yourselves on that point. The French army is quite unaffected. Such an anti-militarist! Bah! We already had any number of anti-militarists! Beware of Him, gentlemen. He is a demagogue, a communist, a bigot, Heaven knows what not, but always a radical. Oui, un rabouliste, c’est ça. He sticks to the wildest popular catchwords. He goes with the mob. Now in your Highness’s country”—he turned suddenly to Prince Trivelino—“He is a nationalist, intoxicating Himself with dreams of a great Roman Empire. But take care, your Highness: that’s what He does in the cities, but in the country districts He hobnobs with the parsons and performs miracles at the shrines of the Virgin. He works for the Vatican with one hand and for the Quirinal with the other. Either there is some design in it or … I don’t know what. Gentlemen, we can quite frankly admit it: He is making things difficult for us all.”
“In my country,” said Horatio Bumm thoughtfully, leaning on his cue, “He goes in for sport as well. He’s a real big sportsman. He goes in for all sorts of games. He’s made amazing records in sports even among chapel-folk. He’s a Socialist. He’s on the side of the Wets. He changes water into drink. Why, just lately, at a White House banquet, everybody present, everybody, mind you, got frightfully drunk. They didn’t take anything but water, you see, but He changed it into drink after it was down.”
“That’s queer,” said Sir W. O’Patterney. “In my country He strikes one as much more of a Conservative. He behaves like an omnipotent clergyman. Holds meetings, processions, sermons in the streets, and such things. I think He is opposed to us Liberals.”
Baron Yanato then said smilingly: “In my country He is quite at home. A very, very nice God. He has adapted Himself very well. Indeed, a very great Japanese.”
“What do you mean, Japanese?” croaked out General Buchtin. “What are you talking about, batushko? He’s a Russian, a genuine Russian, a Slav. With the great Russian soul, your Excellency. He’s on the side of us muzhiks. Not long ago our Archimandrite arranged a procession in his honour: ten thousand candles, and people, gospodin, thick as poppy seeds. All the Christian souls of Mother Russia had gathered together for it. He even performed miracles for us. For He is our Father,” added the General, crossing himself and bowing low.
The German Imperial Chancellor approached, and after listening for a while in silence, he said: “Yes, He knows just how to appeal to the people. In every case, He adopts the mentality of the country He is in. Considering His age, He is … hm … astoundingly elastic. We notice it in the countries just around us. In Czechoslovakia, for instance, He behaves like a colossal individualist. Everyone there has his own Absolute all to himself, so to speak. We ourselves have a State Absolute. With us the Absolute immediately developed into the higher consciousness of the State. In Poland He acts like a kind of alcohol; with us He acts like … like … a sort of Higher Command, verstehen sie mich?”
“Even in your Catholic provinces?” asked Prince Trivelino with a smile.
“Those are mere local differences,” replied Dr. Wurm. “Don’t attach any importance to them, gentlemen. Germany is more united than ever before. But I must thank you, Prince, for the Catholic Karburators that you are smuggling over to us. Fortunately they are poorly made, like all Italian products.”
“Come, come, gentlemen,” interrupted Sir W. O’Patterney. “Neutrality in
