‘There are very simple means.’
And she mentioned several initiatives which, from her ex
perience, ought to be effective. She thought that enthusiasm for a world state could be provoked by a world anthem, a world flag and a world festival of music, a parade and a fireworks display. These measures were discussed during a council of ministers and adopted after a long debate, despite opposition by Zarratoff who disapproved of such childishness.
As the festival was to be celebrated in all the cities of the world, the members of the government had gone to the main ones to preside over the ceremonies. In New York, the official procession with Fawell at its head made its way first towards Science Square. Washington Square, at the end of Fifth Avenue, had been renamed thus, and it was here that the parade was to take place.
Almost all over the world other Science Squares had appeared, at famous sites whose famous names had been mercilessly sacrificed: Red Square in Moscow, Place Charles de Gaulle in Paris, and Trafalgar Square in London. They were the starting places for all of the events. On each of them a grandiose monument was to be set up, in memory of the great victories of the human mind. The plans had been drawn up but, as the festival could not be postponed, provisional installations had been put in their place, an archway of greenery, made of intertwined olive branches, at the request of the peace Nobels. The procession stopped at the base of this arch. Flanked by O’Kearn and Sir Alex Keene, who had insisted on keeping close to the President, Fawell placed a simple crown of laurel in front of a column dedicated to the martyrs of science. Betty had suggested this ceremony, which would create an atmosphere of reverence, suitable for preparing the crowd for the emotions which would be skilfully evoked at intervals throughout the day. Then he withdrew while the orchestra struck up the world anthem.
The composition of this anthem had caused quite a lot of discussion among the members of the government. Some of them were of the opinion that there was already an international song, and that it was only necessary to adapt this ‘Internationale’, modifying a few phrases to make them express the glory of science. But the opposing opinion prevailed. The majority were of the opinion that the spirit of revolution was not that of the proletariat, and that, even if some passages could be made use of, by adopting it they would be tactlessly reawakening political feelings which no longer made sense and which, on the contrary, the scholars wanted to stifle.
It was therefore decided to compose a new song, but so as not to puzzle people too much, who could still remember having their own national tones in their ears, and again on Betty’s advice, it was to be inspired just as much by the music as by the words of the national anthems of the now defunct countries.
It was the first time for it to be played in public and Fawell listened to it with curiosity and a little apprehension. The greatest composers of the time had worked on the music. They had succeeded quite well in the exceptional achievement of blending together into an almost harmonious whole rhythms in which, by turns, one could recognise ‘God Save the King’, ‘La Marseillaise’, ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’, ‘The Internationale’, and not forgetting Thailand’s ‘Sansoen Phra Barami’, Turkey’s ‘Istiklal Marsi’, India’s ‘Jana Gana Mana’, and many other former national melodies.
The words provided the greatest difficulty. The government scholars had at first come to an agreement about having a text to the glory of science according to their own instructions but the Nobels, who considered this to be an extremely important decision, demanded that they be consulted. When they were shown the rough draft, many of them considered it far from satisfactory. The peace Nobels demanded that the emphasis should be more on their speciality. The literary Nobels saw before them nothing more than the work of a versifier. So each of them set about proposing corrections, only to end up finally with a composition in which there was no mention of the scientific ideal and which was unanimously turned down. The need to match the words with the variations in rhythm only added to the difficulty of the task.
Finally however a text appeared with which everyone could agree. It started in the following way, based on a melody inspired by God Save The King, and which was selected as a solemn overture by the musical experts for its almost religious quality:
Ra-di-ant un-i-verse,
We are your chil-dren
All your chil-dren.
The music then followed the rhythm of the former ‘Internationale,’ with the following words:
We’re thirst-ing after much know-ledge,
We want to pe-netrate its laws,
And find the se-cret of its birth,
And the cen-tre of our faith.
Then suddenly the tones of La Marseillaise burst forth:
Oh sac-red love of Sci-ence,
You alone shall guide our minds,
You alone can make us live in hope
For but one world full of peace,
For but one world full of peace…
However this text was not deemed satisfactory by everyone, and a commission was appointed to perfect it. On that day of the first world festival, the music was satisfactory and suitable. This was Fawell’s opinion, who, after giving a fleeting glance at the crowd, felt that there was an impression of harmony becoming manifest, which was giving rise to a certain emotion.
He got back into his car, and, still standing, and making a gesture of response to the cheering, he slowly drove up part of Fifth Avenue, to take his place on the official platform set up at Madison Square.
While twice smiling and gesturing benevolently at the crowd, he looked with a critical eye at the double line of new banners which decorated the avenue.
The matter of world banners had been the subject of debates just as lively as those about the anthem. The usual loud colours of the flags of former days were excluded, as being too evocative of the nationalist past. A plain white material symbolising peace was judged to be too simplistic and unsuitable for exciting the least emotion. So someone suggested that the banner should bear the portrait of a scholar who personified the greatest development in ideas. The idea seemed to be an interesting one, and the clan of physicists very quickly agreed on Einstein. Fawell approved of this choice, and it seemed to him no serious scientific objection could be made to it. What is more, the great scholar had the advantage of being known to people due to innumerable images of him. His face, with its deeply marked features, framed by the famous halo of untidy hair, was well suited to arouse a romantic enthusiasm, if the image was created by a talented artist.
Alas, this proposal immediately rekindled the rivalry between the physicists and the physiologists among the Nobels. After furious protests the plan had to be abandoned, and as none of the names proposed subsequently could satisfy all the scholars, Fawell had to give up the idea and look for another emblem.
This time it was Yranne who found, with the perfect logic of a mathematician, a solution acceptable to all.