Hubbard was nodding. “Bill Kaiser’s always speaking of God as if the Creator were waiting to see him in the lobby. He says God is on his side.” He snorted a laugh. “Any man who believes the Maker of the Universe takes a special interest in him is clearly a megalomaniac.”
He had a point.
I offered another example: “The Kaiser’s a ‘sad, mad, bad, bloody monster.’ ”
Again nodding, Hubbard said, “That’s right. Oh, some have said Bill Kaiser has kept the peace for forty-three years. . but he was just biding his time for this grab at world domination. And every male child born in those forty-three years, who can carry a gun, is being made to do that monster’s obscene bidding.”
“ ‘Caligula, that royal pagan pervert, was kind compared to the Kaiser.’. . ‘Nero, the fiddling fiend, never burned half as much property.’. . And yet you expect the Kaiser to grant you an audience? An interview?”
He folded his arms, and that kindly face offered me a patronizing smile. “Mr. Van Dine, the only way to avoid criticism is to do nothing. . and say nothing.”
“But if you want the Kaiser to listen to reason, wasn’t it a mistake to-”
“The greatest mistake you can make in life is to continually fear you’ll make one.”
How could you discuss anything intelligently with this human homily machine?
“Bill Kaiser,” he was saying, “is just another of these self-appointed folk who rule us, who are unwilling to do unto others as they would be done by them. . that is, to mind their own damned business and cease coveting things that don’t belong to them! That’s all war is, you know-a result of the covetous spirit to possess.”
I didn’t disagree with any of this, exactly, it just seemed obvious, as obvious as the way this character liked to hear the sound of his own voice.
But Miss Vance, surprisingly, seemed keenly interested, and asked him, “Why do you think the German people stand behind ‘Bill Kaiser,’ then?”
“The answer is easy,” he said. “It’s a matter of the hypnotic spell of patriotism. . the lure of the crowd, combined with coercion. Look at Germany today! No private individual can operate an automobile. No bands can play in public parks. All savings banks are closed. Factories are closed. Colleges have been turned into hospitals-why not? All the students are at the front!”
I tried again. “Do you consider yourself anti-German, or just anti-‘Bill Kaiser’?”
“Oh, my heart is with Germany! The Germany of science, invention, music, education, skill. The crazy Kaiser will not win.”
“But you think he will talk to you.”
“Even if I don’t get any closer to the Kaiser than the Paris suburbs, I’ll write of the war from an American point of view that’s sorely needed-from Zeppelin raids over London, to the British viewpoint on American neutrality.”
“But you’ve heard from the German government. .?”
“Yes-they say I will be allowed to observe conditions as they are. I will represent myself with a friendly nature and a quiet demeanor.”
“What’s the use of the trip, then?”
He grinned and tapped his skull alongside the flowing graying locks. “I intend to store all in my bean and in that way elude the censor. I’ll give the truth to my readers, when I get back. . if I get back.”
“You have your doubts?”
He shrugged, and patted his wife’s hand. They exchanged secret smiles. “I may meet with a mine, or a submarine. . or hold a friendly conversation with a stray bullet in the trenches. Who can say?”
Miss Vance said, rather suddenly, “Mrs. Hubbard-why are you following your husband into harm’s way?”
Her husband watched the quiet, seemingly meek woman, waiting with the rest of us for her response.
“If such a thing happens,” she said, in a gentle second soprano, “Elbert and I will go down hand in hand.”
This sobered Miss Vance and myself, but Hubbard beamed at his bride. Then to us he said, “I’m always considering what I would do, should this happen, or that. So nothing can surprise me-even death!”
Surprisingly, I was finding myself interested in this man’s point of view-never had I encountered so cheerful a brand of fatalism.
Miss Vance asked, “Are you a religious man, Mr. Hubbard?”
“I’m familiar with the various religious beliefs and the ecclesiastical creeds and dogmas of the world. . I’ve investigated and analyzed all the theological theories. . and believe in none of them. My religion is the religion of humanity, which has its heaven on this earth.”
I found this remarkably compatible with my own views, and asked, “Where do you think science fits in?”
He grinned. “Now that’s the real miracle worker-the great philanthropist who freed the slaves and civilized the master. Science is our savior and our perpetual providence, the teacher of every virtue, the enemy of every vice and the discoverer of every fact.”
“Some would call that blasphemy,” I pointed out.
“Public opinion is the judgment of the incapable many,” he said, “opposed to that of the discerning few.”
He was falling back on the aphorisms again-for a while there the sage in the Buster Brown haircut had actually been discussing his views. Perhaps my frustration showed, because when he spoke again, the aphorism-spouting ceased, for a while anyway.
“Mr. Van Dine, I am a farmer, a publicist, a lecturer, a businessman and a writer. I do believe in a Supreme being, but my only prayer is, ‘Give us this day our daily work’. . though I suppose I pray, too, that I never meddle, dictate, or give unwanted advice. . If I can help people, I’ll do it by giving them a chance to help themselves.”
“ ‘Rest is rust?’ ” I said with a smile, invoking his most famous saying.
“That’s right-and life is love, laughter and work. Not to mention, just one damned thing after another. .”
Even if we were back to aphorisms, I actually laughed at that, as did Miss Vance.
He started to play to the receptive audience, saying, “I don’t take it too seriously, life. . None of us get out of it alive, you know.”
His wife spoke up again. “As a great man once said, ‘He has achieved success in life who has worked well, laughed often and loved much.’ ”
I did her the courtesy of writing that down, then asked, “And who said that?”
“Why, my husband, of course.”
Shifting in my chair, I said, “These positive thoughts are all well and good, Mr. Hubbard. . but the fact remains, we are sailing toward a zone of war, and you were warned by telegram that this ship was targeted for destruction.”
For the first time, Hubbard frowned, more in thought and surprise than in displeasure. . though some of that was in there, as well. “How did you know that, sir?”
I shrugged. “I’m a journalist-I picked up that crumpled telegram you discarded. Are you aware five other prominent passengers on this ship were similarly warned?”
Still frowning, he nodded. “Staff Captain Anderson informed me. But he said not to worry.”
“Did he, now. Tell me, when you published this inflammatory piece on ‘Bill Kaiser,’ what sort of reaction did you get from the German-Americans among your readership?”
His chin lifted and he seemed proud to report, “Ten thousand of them cancelled their subscriptions overnight.” He shrugged and added, “This is nothing new-when I was critical of Brandeis, I lost many of my Jewish readers, despite my stand over the years against anti-Semitism.”
“What did you do about these cancellations?”
“Well, over all, our circulation increased. . We’ve reprinted that issue in the hundreds of thousands, much as with the ‘Message to Garcia.’ And, of course, I wrote each of those who cancelled a friendly letter.”
“You wrote ten thousand letters, yourself?”