ples are the best the natural aristocracy, the makers of art, religion, philosophy, life, everything except brazen machines.”
“But why?”
“Because of the longer rule of natural aristocracy among us. We count our millenniums of history where Europe counts her centuries. We have our own carefully thought-out philosophy and civilization, while Europe has sought to adopt an ill-fitting mélange of the cultures of the world.”
“But does this not all come out the same gate, with the majority of mankind serving the minority? And if this is the only ideal of civilization, does the tint of a skin matter in the question of who leads?” Thus Matthew summed it up.
“Not a whit it is the natural inborn superiority that matters,” said the Japanese, “and it is that which the present color bar of Europe is holding back.”
“And what guarantees, in the future more than in the past and with colored more than with white, the wise rule of the gifted and powerful?”
“Self-interest and the inclusion in their ranks of all really superior men of all colors—the best of Asia together with the best of the British aristocracy, of the German Adel, of the French writers and financiers—of the rulers, artists, and poets of all peoples.”
“And suppose we found that ability and talent and art is not entirely or even mainly among the reigning aristocrats of Asia and Europe, but buried among millions of men down in the great sodden masses of all men and even in Black Africa?”
“It would come forth.”
“Would it?”
“Yes,” said the Princess, “it would come forth, but when and how? In slow and tenderly nourished efflorescence, or in wild and bloody upheaval with all that bitter loss?”
“Pah!” blurted the Egyptian—“pardon, Royal Highness—but what art ever came from the canaille!”
The blood rushed to Matthew’s face. He threw back his head and closed his eyes, and with the movement he heard again the Great Song. He saw his father in the old log church by the river, leading the moaning singers in the Great Song of Emancipation. Clearly, plainly he heard that mighty voice and saw the rhythmic swing and beat of the thick brown arm. Matthew swung his arm and beat the table; the silver tinkled.
