“I thought he was a gentleman,” they seem to be saying to one another, if you glance back, “he looked like a gentleman.”
Their mild eyes haunt you; on the next occasion you do not forget. The Park merges6 into the forest; you go by winding7 ways till you reach the trim Dutch garden, moat-encircled, in the centre of which stands the prim8 old-fashioned villa9, which, to the simple Dutchman, appears a palace. The concierge10, an old soldier, bows low to you and introduces you to his wife—a stately, white-haired dame11, who talks most languages a little, so far as relates to all things within and appertaining to this tiny palace of the wood. To things without, beyond the wood, her powers of conversation do not extend: apparently12 such matters do not interest her.
She conducts you to the Chinese Room; the sun streams through the windows, illuminating13 the wondrous14 golden dragons standing15 out in bold relief from the burnished16 lacquer work, decorating still further with light and shade the delicate silk embroideries17 thin taper18 hands have woven with infinite pains. The walls are hung with rice paper, depicting19 the conventional scenes of the conventional Chinese life.
You find your thoughts wandering. These grotesque20 figures, these caricatures of humanity! A comical creature, surely, this Chinaman, the pantaloon of civilization. How useful he has been to us for our farces21, our comic operas! This yellow baby, in his ample pinafore, who lived thousands of years ago, who has now passed into this strange second childhood.
But is he dying—or does the life of a nation wake again, as after sleep? Is he this droll22, harmless thing he here depicts23 himself? And if not? Suppose fresh sap be stirring through his three hundred millions? We thought he was so very dead; we thought the time had come to cut him up and divide him, the only danger being lest we should quarrel over his carcase among ourselves.
Suppose it turns out as the fable24 of the woodcutter and the bear? The woodcutter found the bear lying in the forest. At first he was much frightened, but the bear lay remarkably25 still. So the woodman crept nearer, ventured to kick the bear—very gently, ready to run if need be. Surely the bear was dead! And parts of a bear are good to eat, and bearskin to poor woodfolk on cold winter nights is grateful. So the woodman drew his knife and commenced the necessary preliminaries. But the bear was not dead.
If the Chinaman be not dead? If the cutting-up process has only served to waken him? In a little time from now we shall know.
From the Chinese Room the white-haired dame leads us to the Japanese Room. Had gentle-looking Princess Amalia some vague foreshadowing of the future in her mind when she planned these two rooms leading into one another? The Japanese decorations are more grotesque, the designs less cheerfully comical than those of cousin Chinaman. These monstrous26, mis-shapen wrestlers, these patient-looking gods, with their inscrutable eyes! Was it always there, or is it only by the light of present events that one reads into the fantastic fancies of the artist working long ago in the doorway27 of his paper house, a meaning that has hitherto escaped us?
But the chief attraction of the Huis ten Bosch is the gorgeous Orange Saloon, lighted by a cupola, fifty feet above the floor, the walls one blaze of pictures, chiefly of the gorgeous Jordaen school—“The Defeat of the Vices,” “Time Vanquishing28 Slander”—mostly allegorical, in praise of all the virtues29, in praise of enlightenment and progress. Aptly enough in a room so decorated, here was held the famous Peace Congress that closed the last century. One can hardly avoid smiling as one thinks of the solemn conclave30 of grandees31 assembled to proclaim the popularity of Peace.
It was in the autumn of the same year that Europe decided32 upon the dividing-up of China, that soldiers were instructed by Christian33 monarchs34 to massacre35 men, women and children, the idea being to impress upon the Heathen Chinee the superior civilization of the white man. The Boer war followed almost immediately. Since when the white man has been pretty busy all over the world with his “expeditions” and his “missions.” The world is undoubtedly36 growing more refined. We do not care for ugly words. Even the burglar refers airily to the “little job” he has on hand. You would think he had found work in the country. I should not be surprised to learn that he says a prayer before starting, telegraphs home to his anxious wife the next morning that his task has been crowned with blessing37.
Until the far-off date of Universal Brotherhood38 war will continue. Matters considered unimportant by both parties will—with a mighty39 flourish of trumpets—be referred to arbitration40. I was talking of a famous financier a while ago with a man who had been his secretary. Amongst other anecdotes41, he told me of a certain agreement about which dispute had arisen. The famous financier took the paper into his own hands and made a few swift calculations.
“Let it go,” he concluded, “it is only a thousand pounds at the outside. May as well be honest.”
Concerning a dead fisherman or two, concerning boundaries through unproductive mountain ranges we shall arbitrate and feel virtuous42. For gold mines and good pasture lands, mixed up with a little honour to give respectability to the business, we shall fight it out, as previously43. War being thus inevitable44, the humane45 man will rejoice that by one of those brilliant discoveries, so simple when they are explained, war in the future is going to be rendered equally satisfactory to victor and to vanquished46.
In by-elections, as a witty47 writer has pointed48 out, there are no defeats—only victories and moral victories. The idea seems to have caught on. War in the future is evidently going to be conducted on the same understanding. Once upon a time, from a far-off land, a certain general telegraphed home congratulating his Government that the enemy had shown no inclination49 whatever to prevent his running away. The whole country rejoiced.
“Why, they never even tried to stop him,” citizens, meeting other citizens in the street, told each other. “Ah, they’ve had enough of him. I bet they are only too glad to get rid of him. Why, they say he ran for miles without seeing a trace of the foe3.”
The enemy’s general, on the other hand, also wrote home congratulating his Government. In this way the same battle can be mafficked over by both parties. Contentment is the great secret of happiness. Everything happens for the best, if only you look at it the right way. That is going to be the argument. The general of the future will telegraph to headquarters that he is pleased to be able to inform His Majesty50 that the enemy, having broken down all opposition51, has succeeded in crossing the frontier and is now well on his way to His Majesty’s capital.
“I am luring52 him on,” he will add, “as fast as I can. At our present rate of progress, I am in hopes of bringing him home by the tenth.”
Lest foolish civilian53 sort of people should wonder whereabouts lies the cause for rejoicing, the military man will condescend54 to explain. The enemy is being enticed55 farther and farther from his base. The defeated general—who is not really defeated, who is only artful, and who appears to be running away, is not really running away at all. On the contrary, he is running home—bringing, as he explains, the enemy with him.
If I remember rightly—it is long since I played it—there is a parlour game entitled “Puss in the Corner.” You beckon56 another player to you with your finger. “Puss, puss!” you cry. Thereupon he has to leave his chair—his “base,” as the military man would term it—and try to get to you without anything happening to him.
War in the future is going to be Puss in the Corner on a bigger scale. You lure57 your enemy away from his base. If all goes well—if he does not see the trap that is being laid for him—why, then, almost before he knows it, he finds himself in your capital. That finishes the game. You find out what it is he really wants. Provided it is something within reason, and you happen to have it handy, you give it to him. He goes home crowing, and you, on your side, laugh when you think how cleverly you succeeded in luring him away from his base.
There is a bright side to all things. The gentleman charged with the defence of a fortress58 will meet the other gentleman who has captured it and shake hands with him mid59 the ruins.
“So here you are at last!” he will explain. “Why didn’t you come before? We have been waiting for you.”
And he will send off dispatches felicitating his chief on having got that fortress off their hands, together with all the worry and expense it has been to them. When prisoners are taken you will console yourself with the reflection that the cost of feeding them for the future will have to be borne by the enemy. Captured cannon60 you will watch being trailed away with a sigh of relief.
“Confounded heavy things!” you will say to yourself. “Thank goodness I’ve got rid of them. Let him have the fun of dragging them about these ghastly roads. See how he likes the job!”
War is a ridiculous method of settling disputes. Anything that can tend to make its ridiculous aspect more apparent is to be welcomed. The new school of military dispatch-writers may succeed in turning even the laughter of the mob against it.
The present trouble in the East would never have occurred but for the white man’s enthusiasm for bearing other people’s burdens. What we call the yellow danger is the fear that the yellow man may before long request us, so far as he is concerned, to put his particular burden down. It may occur to him that, seeing it is his property, he would just as soon carry it himself. A London policeman told me a story the other day that struck him as an example of Cockney humour under trying circumstances. But it may also serve as a fable. From a lonely street in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, early one morning, the constable61 heard cries of “Stop thief!” shouted in a childish treble. He arrived on the scene just in time to collar a young hooligan, who, having snatched a basket of fruit from a small lad—a greengrocer’s errand boy, as it turned out—was, with it, making tracks. The greengrocer’s boy, between panting and tears, delivered his accusation62. The hooligan regarded him with an expression of amazed indignation.
“What d’yer mean, stealing it?” exclaimed Mr. Hooligan. “Why, I was carrying it for yer!”
The white man has got into the way of “carrying” other people’s burdens, and now it looks as if the yellow man were going to object to our carrying his any further. Maybe he is going to get nasty, and insist on carrying it himself. We call this “the yellow danger.”
A friend of mine—he is a man who in the street walks into lamp-posts, and apologises—sees rising from the East the dawn of a new day in the world’s history. The yellow danger is to him a golden hope. He sees a race long stagnant63, stretching its giant limbs with the first vague movements of returning life. He is a poor sort of patriot64; he calls himself, I suppose, a white man, yet he shamelessly confesses he would rather see Asia’s millions rise from the ruins of their ancient civilization to take their part in the future of humanity, than that half the population of the globe should remain bound in savagery65 for the pleasure and the profit of his own particular species.
He even goes so far as to think that the white man may have something to learn. The world has belonged to him now for some thousands of years. Has he done all with it that could have been done? Are his ideals the last word?
Not what the yellow man has absorbed from Europe, but what he is going to give Europe it is that interests my friend. He is watching the birth of a new force—an influence as yet unknown. He clings to the fond belief that new ideas, new formulæ, to replace the old worn shibboleths66, may, during these thousands of years, have been developing in those keen brains that behind the impressive yellow mask have been working so long in silence and in mystery.
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1
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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merges
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| （使）混合( merge的第三人称单数 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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concierge
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| n.管理员；门房 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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15
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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embroideries
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| 刺绣( embroidery的名词复数 )； 刺绣品； 刺绣法 | |
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taper
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| n.小蜡烛，尖细，渐弱；adj.尖细的；v.逐渐变小 | |
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depicting
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| 描绘，描画( depict的现在分词 )； 描述 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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farces
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| n.笑剧( farce的名词复数 )；闹剧；笑剧剧目；作假的可笑场面 | |
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droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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depicts
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| 描绘，描画( depict的第三人称单数 )； 描述 | |
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fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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vanquishing
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| v.征服( vanquish的现在分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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29
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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conclave
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| n.秘密会议，红衣主教团 | |
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grandees
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| n.贵族，大公，显贵者( grandee的名词复数 ) | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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monarchs
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| 君主，帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
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massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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arbitration
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| n.调停，仲裁 | |
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41
anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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45
humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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46
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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47
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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50
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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52
luring
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的现在分词形式） | |
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53
civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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54
condescend
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| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
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55
enticed
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| 诱惑，怂恿( entice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
beckon
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| v.(以点头或打手势)向...示意，召唤 | |
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lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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mid
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| adj.中央的，中间的 | |
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cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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61
constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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shibboleths
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| n.（党派、集团等的）准则( shibboleth的名词复数 )；教条；用语；行话 | |
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