“_A country which is not yours_—” Yet as Paderewski traveled from city to city, from platform to platform, more and more Americans began to sense a kinship with the country that did not even appear on the map. For the first time the bitter irony of the Polish situation became clear to them. Here was a country that had lost its freedom four years before America’s had been declared. Yet Poland had been one of the first nations in the world to advance the beliefs on which America had been founded. “Already in the fifteenth century a self-governing country, Poland became, in 1573, a regular republic, with kings elected. In 1430, consequently 259 years before the habeas corpus of England ... Poland established her famous law ‘No man shall be detained unless legally convicted.’ Our broad, liberal Constitution of 1791 preceded by 57 years the Constitution of Germany and Austria, and by 114 years the so-called Constitution of Russia. And all these momentous reforms ... were accomplished without revolution, without any bloodshed, without the loss of one single human life. Does it prove our dissensions? Does it prove our anarchy? Does it prove our inability to govern ourselves?” “_In a language which is not mine_—” Yet somehow he had made it his. Audiences that had loved Paderewski the pianist now realized that he was equally great as an orator, although he spoke simply and without dramatic gestures. When he finished speaking, he would turn to the piano and continue his plea for Poland in still another language. He would play the music of Chopin, and when the listeners finally left the hall, they knew that they had lived through a unique emotional experience. It was no wonder that money for Polish relief began to pour in. Few people who heard Paderewski say “Give me seed for this trampled, wasted land, bread for these starving!” could resist the appeal. Generous America took the forgotten Polish people to its heart. By presidential decree a special “Polish Day” was established, because in the eyes of America “Poland” had become synonymous with “Paderewski,” the beloved artist who had so enriched the golden era of peace. Although the first half of his mission had flourished beyond his greatest hopes, Paderewski felt that so far he had done very little about the second half. He had talked to plenty of government officials and diplomats, but they had little to offer beyond polite interest. Not until he had been in the United States for a year was he able to take the first sizable step. As he had known it must, it came through the intervention of one man, a man who was neither government official nor diplomat. He was the man to whom Paderewski would write, “It has been the dream of my life to find a providential man for my country. I am now sure that I have not been dreaming vain dreams.” CHAPTER 7 THE PROVIDENTIAL MAN [Illustration: Coat of arms with Eagle.]