# The Absolute at Large/Chapter 20

Chapter XX
St. Kilda
St. Kilda is a little island, practically nothing more than a rock of pliocene tufa far to the west of the Hebrides. A few stunted birches, a handful of heather and dry grass, flocks of nesting seagulls and semi-arctic butterflies of the order Polyommatus are all that lives on this lost outpost of our hemisphere, out amid the endless beating of the seas and the equally endless procession of clouds for ever laden with rain. For that matter, St. Kilda has always been uninhabited, is now, and will for ever be so.
Nevertheless it was there that His Majesty's ship Dragon dropped anchor, towards the end of autumn. Carpenters came off the ship with timbers and planks, and by evening they had built a large, low wooden house. The next day upholsterers arrived, bringing with them the finest and most comfortable furniture. On the third day stewards, cooks, and waiters emerged from the depths of the ship and carried into the building crockery, wine, preserves, and everything that civilization has provided for rich, fastidious, and powerful men.
​On the morning of the fourth day there arrived on H.M.S. Edwin the English Premier, the Right Hon. Sir W. O'Patterney; half an hour later came the American Ambassador, Mr. Horatio Bumm; and there followed him, each on a warship, the Chinese plenipotentiary, Mr. Kei; the French Premier, Dudieu; the Imperial Russian General, Buchtin; the Imperial German Chancellor, Dr. Wurm; the Italian Minister, Prince Trivelino; and the Japanese Ambassador, Baron Yanato. Sixteen English torpedo-boats cruised around St. Kilda to prevent newspaper reporters from landing; for this Conference of the Supreme Council of the Great Powers, which had been summoned in great haste by the all-powerful Sir W. O'Patterney, was to take place under conditions of the strictest secrecy. In fact, the large Danish whaling schooner Nyls Hans was torpedoed while attempting to slip through the cordon of destroyers by night. The losses included, in addition to the twelve men of the crew, Mr. Joe Hashek, political correspondent of the Chicago Tribune. Nevertheless, the representative of the New York Herald, Mr. I. Sawitt, spent the whole time on St. Kilda disguised as a waiter, and we are indebted to his pen for the scanty accounts of that memorable assembly which survived even the subsequent historic catastrophes.
Mr. I. Sawitt was of the opinion that this ​Conference on high politics was being held in this lonely spot in order to eliminate any direct influence of the Absolute on its decisions. In any other place the Absolute might well make its way into this gathering of serious statesmen in the guise of inspiration, enlightenment, or even miracle-working—which would certainly be something utterly unprecedented in high politics.
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 Moslem 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 ca. 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-militarist! 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 ca. He sticks to the wildest popular catch-words. 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 moujiks. 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 that 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 religious questions, ​please. For my own part, I use a double hook for salmon. The other day I caught one as long as that, look! Fourteen pounds."
"And what about the Papal Nuncio?" asked Dr. Wurm quietly.
"The Holy See requests us to maintain order at all costs. It wants us to have mysticism prohibited by the police. That wouldn't do in England, and altogether. . . . Well, I assure you it weighed quite fourteen pounds. Heavens, I had all I could do to keep from falling into the water!"
Baron Yanato smiled still more politely. "But we do not wish for neutrality. He is a great Japanese. The whole world can adopt the Japanese faith. We, too, would like to send out missionaries for once, and teach religion."
"Baron," said Sir W. O'Patterney gravely, "you know that the excellent relations existing between our Governments . . ."
"England can adopt the Japanese faith," smiled Baron Yanato, "and our relations will be even better."
"Stop, batushko," cried General Buchtin. "We'll have no Japanese faith. If there's to be any faith, then it must be the Orthodox faith. And do you know why? First, because it is orthodox, and secondly, because it is Russian, and thirdly, because our Czar so wills it, and fourthly, because we, my ​friend, have the biggest army. I do everything like a soldier, gentlemen: downright frankly and openly. If there's to be a religion, then it's to be our Orthodox religion."
"But, gentlemen, that is not the question," cried Sir W. O'Patterney excitedly. "That isn't what we're here for!"
"Quite right," said Dr. Wurm. "We have to agree upon a common line of conduct with regard to God."
"Which one?" suddenly asked the Chinese plenipotentiary, Mr. Kei, lifting at last his wrinkled eyelids.
"Which one?" repeated Dr. Wurm in astonishment. "Why, surely there's only one."
"Our Japanese God," smiled Baron Yanato blandly.
"The Orthodox Greek God, batushko, and none other," contradicted the General, as red in the face as a turkey-cock.
"Buddha," Mr. Kei said, and again dropped his lids, becoming the very counterpart of a dried-up mummy.
Sir W. O'Patterney stood up agitatedly. "Gentlemen," he said, "kindly follow me."
Thereupon the diplomats again proceeded to the council chamber. At eight o'clock in the evening His Excellency, General Buchtin, rushed out, purple in ​the face, and clenching his fists. After him came Dr. Wurm, agitatedly arranging his papers. Sir W. O'Patterney, regardless of polite usage, came out with his hat on his head: his face was deep red; M. Dudieu followed him in silence. Prince Trivelino walked away looking very pale, Baron Yanato at his heels with his perpetual smile. The last to leave was Mr. Kei, with downcast eyes, an exceedingly long black rosary sliding through his fingers.
This concludes the report which I. Sawitt published in the Herald. No official communication concerning this Conference was given out, except the one already mentioned relating to the spheres of interest, and if any decision was taken it was apparently of no great value. For already, to use the familiar gynæcological phrase, unforeseen events were shaping themselves in the "womb of history."