Mr. Harding may have seen this. He may have gone over in his mind the steps that in the last twenty-five years—not to go back farther—the world has taken toward this—the steps at the Hague, the various peace conferences, the greatest of all experiments now making at Geneva—and he may have seen that he could no longer deny the demand of this people that he take another step toward the realization of this great hope. Whatever the reason, however, of his unexpected suggestion, it served the excellent purpose of turning the mind of the public to the fact that however complete the work of the Conference might be there would still be more to do if the world was to remain at peace.
In the meantime the Conference itself was going steadily ahead. Everybody seemed cheerful. Everybody was cheerful. If the Conference had rocked on its base for a moment, it had come back to its position; and it was obvious enough, too, from all that one heard and saw, that there was going soon to be something definite and important to announce as a result of the work that was going on.
Who was the dramatist of the Conference on the Limitation of Armament? Mr. Hughes? I would never have believed it. I could never have conceived of his deliberately staging his diplomatic achievements with an appreciation of the time, the place and the world at large which was really amazing. It did not need Mr. Balfour’s delicate and humorous understanding to point out to those who were present at the opening on November 12 that the dramatic quality of Mr. Hughes’ great speech rivaled, if it did not outstrip, its splendid matter. But who would have believed that he would repeat himself? Yet he did it. Just four weeks from his first great coup he pulled off another that had every element of drama which characterized the first—and it had more—strains of genuine emotion and one scene of biting satire. (Not for a moment, however, do I believe that Mr. Hughes intended _that_.)
The surprise of the opening day of the Conference, November 12, lay in the unexpectedness of what Mr. Hughes had to say. The first surprise, of December 10, lay in the fact that there was to be a full session. It was not until nearly midnight of the 9th that it was announced. A few diners lingering late heard of it. The press of course was informed. But to most of us the news came when we opened our morning paper over our coffee—a full headline across the top of the page—