Not Bunting, Silk

THE CONTRIBUTORS’ CLUB

A BRITISH flag of silk was what we wanted. Bunting would not serve the purpose. We had a beautiful American flag of silk, and we must have an equally fine Union Jack, to balance the splendor of the Stars and Stripes. America had sent a delegation of three hundred to London, to the world-gathering of the Boy Scouts. During the first week of last August, Scouts were there from all over the world, come at the call of Sir Robert Baden-Powell, the Chief Scout, and at the invitation of the British government. Chile, Natal, Siam, and New Zealand were some of the more distant countries from which delegates had come to this great gathering. It was easy to believe that thirty-two nations were represented there by more than ten thousand boys. And the Boy Scouts of America who were there were truly representative. They had been drawn by careful selection from all over the United States — from New England, from Texas, from Florida, from California; from schools, from factories, from farms; from prairies, from mountains, from sea-coast.

The Tribute to Great Britain, of the Boy Scouts of America, was to be performed in the full arena of the Olympia in Kensington on the last evening of the gathering. Before the soft green dropcurtain a four-stepped dais was to be erected, on which would be placed two gilded chairs. The Tribute was to begin with the orchestra playing that air which is at once ‘America’ and ‘God Save the King.’ To this music would come in, from one end of the arena, Britannia, bearing her flag and attended by an escort of English Boy Scouts, and from the other end, America, bearing the Stars and Stripes and attended by an escort of American Boy Scouts. Once well advanced into the arena, the two nations would stop and salute each other, raising their flags high, full arm’s length, above their heads. Britannia would then run forward, reaching the dais before her guest, and there await her approach. When America came up, they would again salute each other, and embrace. This would bring the two upraised flags together in a brilliant, gorgeous, vertical mass of color above their heads. Then they would turn, and together go up the steps of the dais to the chairs; and the Tribute would proceed in the presence of the two nations and in their honor.

We had a fine, beautiful silk American flag, of the proper size and mounted on a light staff, so that America could manage it easily with one hand. Where could we get a similar British flag? Five thousand of the Boy Scouts were encamped in the Old Deer Park at Richmond, the Americans among them. I had met there a pleasant English gentleman, actively interested in the Boy Scouts, whom I will indicate without naming, by calling him Mr. Derby. It seemed sensible to ask Mr. Derby if he knew where we might successfully look for what we required. I found him that morning sitting in a chair near campheadquarters, talking with some friends. I made my inquiry, stating the proper dimensions, and told him a little about the Tribute, so that he should see that the flag must be of silk — that bunting would not do.

Immediately he replied, quietly, ‘I have one at home. Now, how can I get that for you?’ He thought a moment, and then added reassuringly, ‘I will send it to you.’

I thanked him heartily. I was most agreeably surprised at the quickness and ease with which that perplexing trouble had been taken care of.

Curiously, — this may seem irrelevant, but I must mention it in justification of my instinct, — curiously there came into my mind what Owen Wister says, in that sane-minded, sane-hearted little book of his, A Straight Deal: that Englishmen often cloak deep feeling in a brevity and undemonstrativeness that sometimes to Americans seem to be indifference. I did not know why this should have come into my mind; for while Mr. Derby’s reply had been brief and quite casual in manner, there was, of course, no occasion for deep feeling. But his offer was so prompt, so very kind, and so entirely uncalled for, that I was truly grateful, and I made a prudent note in my memorandum-book to go to see him about it again the following day: ‘Wednesday, August 4. Get Br. flag from Derby.’ That would still leave me two days in case of any slipup, as, for instance, if the flag were not large enough, or if — as he might well do — he should forget to attend to it.

That afternoon at about four o’clock I was in the American dressing-room at Olympia. An English Scout came in, saluted, and asked if I was the American pageant-master.

I said I was.

‘ Mr. Derby told me to give this flag to you, sir.’

There it was in my hands, already. Olympia was a long way from Richmond. Mr. Derby had inquired and found out where I should be, — I wondered incidentally who had made the correct guess as to where I could be found, — and had sent the flag to me. I unfurled it. It was large enough, yes, and it was silk. It was truly a beautiful flag! I crossed out the memorandum in my notebook. No need to see Mr. Derby again the next day. I was very grateful to Mr. Derby. But I still did not realize the significance of that flag in my hands. I was looking only at the material. Later I was to learn, not only that that flag was, indeed, beautiful silk, but that that simple act of his, too, was pure silk, not bunting.

So the banners of Britannia and America shone forth equally resplendent that last evening, held high together in the Tribute above the beautiful figures of the two countries, truly expressive of the real spirit of the two nations. And the shouts of the thousands and thousands of English and Americans present rose equally high, as the vast assemblage stood and waved and cheered, and tried to express its feeling that those two nations must and would stand together, and that their flags stand for the same things.

The following day, Sunday, I went over to the camp at Richmond early, for I wanted to return the flag to Mr. Derby promptly and personally.

As I was heading for the headquarters tent, I heard Mr. Derby calling me. ‘Is that my Union Jack you are bringing back?’

‘It is.’

I took it down to him, thanked him for lending it to us, and expressed our sincere appreciation of the special help he had rendered us and our hope that the Tribute might have done something to draw closer the bonds between our two countries in the coming years.

‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I would not have lent it to anyone but America.’

I thought that a very gratifying, cordial remark for him to make.

Just then one of the English Scoutmistresses came up. Mr. Derby greeted her as Lady Evars, or by some such name.

‘Oh, what a beautiful flag!’ she exclaimed enthusiastically.

‘Is n’t it!’ I said; ‘Mr. Derby lent it to us for the American pageant last night.’

‘Where did you get it, Mr. Derby?’ she asked him.

He hesitated a moment, and then answered quietly, ‘I had it made — for the coffin of my boy.’ And then again, breaking the silence that fell among us, ‘I would not have lent it to anyone but America.’