Cornelius Blunn had in no wise exaggerated the mighty Juggernaut of propaganda which had already been set in movement in every city and in every State. Its extent and the magnitude of its operations were almost inconceivable. There was scarcely a magazine or review published which did not contain an article by some brilliant writer, preaching the doctrine of American independence and self-determination. A small army of lecturers were at work upon the same theme. There were letters to the newspapers, public meetings, and a vast distribution of free literature. Stoneham, who had been taking a brief vacation, was brought back to New York by an urgent cable from his friend. They discussed the situation, dining at a famous club, on the night of his return.
“I am with you. Grant, you know that,” the newspaper man said, “both from conviction and as a pal. But you’re up against a simply absurd proposition. Plenty of us over here know that for twenty years Germany has been preparing for this sort of thing. She has a perfect machinery of propaganda which only needed a touch of the finger to set it going. Blunn has set his hand upon it. Look at the result. There is scarcely a magazine of repute into which they haven’t bought their way. They have their own newspapers and they are hanging on to the fringe of a good many others. They’re well in with the reviews, they have a strong hold in the colleges, the book counters are flooded with their practically free literature. On the other side there are a fair number of thinking people who would advocate America’s joining the Pact. But there is no organisation, nothing to bring them together, no means of spreading their opinions. You’ve done as much as one man could do. Five thousand of you might have made a little headway. As it is, Cornelius Blunn and his friends are absolutely convincing the great majority of the inhabitants of the United States that America will sacrifice her independence if she accepts this Pact, that Great Britain is jealous of America’s supremacy in commerce and finance, and that this invitation is merely a trap. People can’t help believing a thing they are always being told. That is the first principle of successful propaganda.”
“I know, Dan,” Grant acknowledged. “But we’re not going to knuckle under without a fight. We are late starters but fortunately I’ve got a few millions to spare. I want you to look round and collect as many young writers and lecturers as you can who are inclined to come in on our side. Take those who agree with us from conviction where possible, but pay them well. We may be late starters, but remember this thing won’t be voted on finally for two or three months to come yet. I was talking on the ‘phone with Entwistle at Washington only this afternoon. It’s a complicated procedure and, after all, you know, we have something on our side. The President and most of his entourage are with us. That must count for something.”
“There are drawbacks to democracy,” Stoneham sighed. “Also a ridiculous side to it. The German confectioner in the next street has exactly as much voting weight on this or any other matter as a Harvard professor who has made a study of European politics and probably visited every capital. Decision by votes is always bound to have its fallacies. Look at prohibition, for instance, imposed upon the people of America against their wish, by votes. I’m not at all sure that in a thousand years’ time absolute monarchy won’t be recognised as the only sane form of government.”
“In the meantime,” Grant suggested, “let’s get busy. I’ll open an account for you to-morrow at any bank you say. Put yourself down for any salary you like and pay for contributions just what you think they’re worth. Scour round the city for the young men who can write what we want—lecturers, magazine writers. We may be late starters, Dan, but we’ve a great gospel to preach. We’ve logic on our side, too. America was the first of the nations of the world to propose a reduction of armaments and to strip herself of the means of offensive warfare, just at the time when she, better than any other in the world, was able to afford it. She is still the leading spirit in the Limitation of Armaments. Why, then, should she remain outside the Pact? She lays herself open to conspiracies galore. She refuses the protection of the Pact and accepts the restrictions which her own generosity imposed upon her. And, Dan, let them rub it in. Let them ask where all this stream of literature on the other side is coming from. Tell them straight it’s coming from Germany. Ask them if they think Germany has forgotten.”
They made many plans and Grant succeeded in awakening a measure of enthusiasm in his companion. On their way out they met an acquaintance, laughing over a cartoon in a weekly newspaper. He held it up for them to see. There was a little circle of diners, Lord Yeovil in the middle, and before him one miserable chicken, on which the eyes of the sixteen seated around the table were fixed hungrily. A short distance away the allegorical Jonathan was seated alone at a table with a magnificent turkey in front of him. Lord Yeovil, risen to his feet, was addressing an almost plaintive invitation.
“Won’t you come across and join us, Brother Jonathan, and bring the bird?”
“Propaganda,” Stoneham murmured. “It’s damned clever, too. That sort of thing impresses.”
On their way up town they passed a procession. They stopped for a while to see it go by. There was a long line of youths marching in fours, dressed in the uniform of boys scouts, with several bands playing. They carried banners, on most of which was inscribed the same or a similar message:
EUROPE AND EUROPE’S TROUBLES FOR EUROPE. AMERICA AND AMERICA’S PROSPERITY FOR AMERICA.
“I know that Association,” Stoneham remarked. “They call themselves the ‘National Scouts of Free America.’ They have free uniforms, free bands, about six excursions into the country in the year, also free, and the treasurer to the fund which keeps them going is a Mr. Hans Klein. More propaganda!”
“Oh, our enemies are thorough enough,” Grant agreed bitterly. “They take their disciples from the cradle and rub it all in with the alphabet. And, yet, you know, carefully though they were prepared for it, although they chose their own time, had every advantage science and pre-ordination could give them, they lost the Great War. Their detail was wonderful enough, but you can’t win on detail alone. I’m optimist enough, Dan, to believe that, as these people failed once before, so they will fail again, and for the same reason.”
“You’re rather inspiring to-night,” Stoneham confessed. “Expound!”
“I do not believe in the ultimate success of any cause,” Grant continued earnestly, “which is utterly devoid of spirituality. The Germans started out in nineteen-fourteen with every advantage, but with a boldly proclaimed battle cry of material gain. They were opposed by a nation, fighting for their own land and womankind, and there is no cause which can provoke a greater spirituality. They were opposed too by the British, fighting with no shred of self-interest, with no possible hope of aggrandisement, fighting to redeem their word to Belgium, and fighting against the principles which threatened the very foundations of civilisation. Then we came in. It took us a long time, but it was very far from being our quarrel. Anyhow we came in. And Germany, who started with every advantage, lost. I know as certainly as we walk here side by side, Dan, that Germany means to go to war again, partly a war of vengeance, partly a war of aggrandisement. Well, I think that we shall stop her. There’s no soul to her cause. Nothing can flourish or live without a touch of the spirit.”
“It isn’t argument, Grant,” Stoneham observed, “but I see your point. To a certain extent it’s convincing.”
“Argument is not the infallible solution of any subject,” Grant persisted, “any more than the brain is the only adjudicator. Take the hereafter, for instance. We all have a feeling that something of the sort exists. But argument with a non-believer would be impossible. We set too much store by our brains.”
They had emerged into Broadway, with its medley of blazing lights, its throng of people, its indefinable but ever existent fascination. Grant stopped short and pulled his companion up as they watched a couple descend from an automobile and cross the pavement towards a famous supper place.
“Some one you know?” Stoneham enquired.
His companion nodded.
“Slightly. The man was at Monte Carlo, in attendance upon the Japanese Ambassador. Itash, his name is. The girl was one of the dancers at the Café de Paris. That’s rather a coincidence seeing them here.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Grant explained, “I very nearly got hold of some wonderful information from the young woman who used to be the sweetheart of Itash before he took up with this girl. How she got it from him I don’t know, but she got it. She was half mad with jealousy and she sent for me. By the time I got there, though, Itash had made it up with her, and she would tell me nothing. Now—if one could only get hold of her now, there might be something doing.”
Stoneham shrugged his shoulders.
“A Japanese diplomatist,” he said, “even the youngsters, are not noted for their ingenuousness. I can’t imagine that young man, Itash, as you call him, giving much away.”
“Neither can I,” Grant agreed, “but she was very positive, and she did tell me one or two things.”
“Then if I were you,” Stoneham suggested, “I should get into touch with her as quickly as possible. Send her a cable and tell her what’s going on. She wouldn’t be the first jealous woman who’s saved or lost an empire.”
They passed away from Broadway again and reached Grant’s hotel. They sat in the sitting room, discussing plans till the small hours of the morning. Just as they were separating Stoneham put his arm round the other’s shoulder.
“Grant, old fellow,” he said, “I am with you right through this business. But there’s just one thing I want to tell you before you go too far. We’re on a loser. America will decide against the Pact. I saw a first forecast of the voting yesterday. The majority for rejecting the invitation was more than two to one.”
“I should put it down as even less favourable than that,” Grant replied. “And still I don’t despair. I’ve a few more irons in the fire, Stoneham, than I’ve had time to tell you about yet. I’ve a capital fellow out in Japan, going on with the work I began. The British police patrols are on the scent of something there, and I paid rather an interesting visit to Archangel a few months ago. I’m not relying on our propaganda alone, Dan. Before that vote is taken in the Senate, I’m hoping to launch a thunderbolt or two from very unsuspected places. We’ve got to have the propaganda going, but don’t you be surprised, old fellow, if, at any moment, I find you a new sort of fuel.”
“We can do with it,” his friend assured him. “These things that you are talking about concern chiefly the Limitation of Armaments Congress. I’m afraid a few surreptitious ships here and there won’t have much effect on public opinion.”
Grant smiled.
“You wait until the first of my thunderbolts is launched,” he enjoined.