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padding-left: 3em;} -/* large inline blocks don't split well on paged devices */ -@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } -.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block;} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - -/* Poetry indents */ -.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} -.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2em;} -.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: -1em;} -.poetry .indent8 {text-indent: 1em;} -.poetry .indent9 {text-indent: 1.5em;} -.poetry .indent14 {text-indent: 4em;} -.poetry .indent20 {text-indent: 7em;} -.poetry .indent22 {text-indent: 8em;} - -.poetry .indent28 {text-indent: 11em;} - -.poetry .outdent {text-indent: -3.35em; padding-left: 3em;} - -abbr, em, cite, .italic {font-style: italic;} - -/* Illustration classes */ -.illowp45 {width: 45%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp45 {width: 100%;} -.illowp47 {width: 47%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp47 {width: 100%;} -.illowp48 {width: 48%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp48 {width: 100%;} -.illowp50 {width: 50%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp50 {width: 100%;} -.illowp51 {width: 51%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp51 {width: 100%;} -.illowp52 {width: 52%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp52 {width: 100%;} -.illowp54 {width: 54%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp54 {width: 100%;} -.illowp55 {width: 55%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp55 {width: 100%;} -.illowp56 {width: 56%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp56 {width: 100%;} - - - /* ]]> */ </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Unparliamentary papers and other diversions, by Reginald Berkeley</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Unparliamentary papers and other diversions</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Reginald Berkeley</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Bohun Lynch</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Contributor: J. C. Squire</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 31, 2022 [eBook #68876]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Tim Lindell, Thomas Frost and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNPARLIAMENTARY PAPERS AND OTHER DIVERSIONS ***</div> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp45" id="alleged_interference" style="max-width: 96.0625em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/alleged_interference.jpg" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"><p>Alleged “interference” with the Heavenly Twins.</p> - -<p><span class="italic">See “The Universal Conflict.”</span></p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop full" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</span></p> - - - - -<h1 class="break"> -UNPARLIAMENTARY -PAPERS AND OTHER -DIVERSIONS -</h1> - -<p class="ph p130"> -BY<br /> -REGINALD BERKELEY -</p> - -<p class="ph p2"> -Author of<br /> -“French Leave” and “Eight O’Clock”<br /> -Part Author of “The Oilskin Packet”<br /> -and “Decorations and Absurdities”<br /> -</p> - -<p class="ph p2"> -<span class="p130 italic">With an Introduction</span><br /> -<span class="p120">By J. C. SQUIRE<br /> -<span class="italic">And Drawings by</span><br /> -BOHUN LYNCH</span> -</p> - -<p class="ph p6"> -<span class="p130">Cecil Palmer</span><br /> -<span class="p120">Forty-nine<br /> -Chandos Street<br /> -W.C.2</span> -</p> - -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</span></p> - - - - -<p class="center break"> -FIRST<br /> -EDITION<br /> -1924<br /> -COPYRIGHT -</p> - -<p class="p6 center"> -<span class="italic">Printed in Great Britain</span> -</p> - -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="To_C_H_G" title="DEDICATION"><span class="italic">To</span> C. H. G.</h2> -</div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry cpoetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"><span class="italic">Friend, of all friends most prized and dear,</span></div> - <div class="verse indent2"><span class="italic">When times are sad, when memories smart,</span></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><span class="italic">When smiles hold back the scalding tear,</span></div> - <div class="verse indent2"><span class="italic">And laughter hides a breaking heart—</span></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><span class="italic">Because the sleeve’s no place to wear it—</span></div> - <div class="verse indent2"><span class="italic">May this poor book of mine come in</span></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><span class="italic">And help brave you to grin and bear it,</span></div> - <div class="verse indent2"><span class="italic">Or—if you cannot bear it—grin.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</span></p> - - -<p class="gratitude break"> -Certain of the papers that make -up this book have appeared, -either in this present or in some -modified form, in the “Outlook.” -Others have been published in -the “Nottingham Journal,” the -“Yorkshire Observer,” and other -provincial dailies. Others again -are hitherto unpublished. To -the Editors of those journals in -which his work has appeared -the author wishes to express his -gratitude and acknowledgments. -</p> - - -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">I happen</span> to frequent Captain Berkeley’s -company on the cricket field. When he is -there, and the wicket is bumpy, it might -suitably be called a stricken field. He bowls -very fast and very straight.</p> - -<p>As his publisher usually keeps wicket for him, -I dare not suggest that the crooked ones go for -four byes. In any event that parallel would not -be necessary here; but the general characteristics -of Captain Berkeley’s bowling are certainly in -evidence. He goes direct at his object, and -when he hits it the middle stump whirls rapidly -in the air. He is all for hitting the wicket; -slip catches and cunningly arranged chances to -cover are not for him. This blunt going for -the main point it is that gives his parodies their -greatest charm. I like it when I see a reference -to “Count Puffendorff Seidlitz, the Megalomanian -Minister”: if we are being funny, why -not laugh aloud instead of merely tittering? -“Lord Miasma” pleases me as a coinage full -of meaning in these days; there is a refreshing -lack of compromise about the name of the -Galsworthy parson, “The Rev. Hardy Heavyweight”; -and how better could one name two -of Sir James Barrie’s minor characters than by -the twin appellations of McVittie and Price, -who here take, as they elsewhere give, the -biscuit? This agreeable couple appear in one -of the mock plays which, to one reader at least,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</span> -seem to be the very best part of this very miscellaneous -volume. Captain Berkeley is himself -a successful playwright, and dog has here very -entertainingly eaten dog. Mr. Galsworthy’s -passion for abstract titles; his hostile preoccupation -with the normal sporting man; his -agonised sympathy with maltreated women; -his determination to load the dice against his -heroines: all these things are made clear in -language very like his own, and yet in a way -that suggests (to return to our imagery) that -the bowler, however fast and determined, has -a respect for the batsman. I don’t know that -it is quite fair to ascribe “the Manchester -Drama” especially to Mr. St. John Ervine or -even to Manchester; but we know the type, -and if a few more blows like this will kill it, so -much the better. It is well enough to be -harrowed in the theatre, but not to be made to -feel as though we had chronic dyspepsia. The -Russian Drama is beautifully apt; and “The -Slayboy of the Western World” also. They -reproduce idioms and mannerisms perfectly, -and exhibit limitations unanswerably.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the most refreshing thing about this -book is its diversity. It is an age (excluding the -merely vulgarly versatile) of specialists and -specialist labels. A man is not expected to -see life whole, much less steadily; he is -encouraged to describe himself as “poet,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</span> -“parodist,” “politician,” “business man” or -what not; and it is regarded as almost improper -that a person who takes an interest in Synge -should so much as admit a knowledge of -Mr. Winston Churchill’s existence. Captain -Berkeley refuses to subject himself to any such -limitations. He surveys everything around him, -and where he sees anything he thinks funny, he -has a go at it. This should not be regarded—any -more than Canning’s squibs were regarded—as -militating against his trustworthiness -as a politician. Rather the reverse. A knowledge -of humanity and the humanities is serviceable -in legislation and administration, and a sense -of humour usually goes with the sense which is -called common.</p> - -<p class="right mr5"> -<span class="smcap">J. C. Squire.</span><br /> -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - - -<table class="shrink"> -<tr> -<td> </td> -<th class="tdr">PAGE</th> -</tr> -<tr> -<th class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Unparliamentary Papers</span>:—</th> -<td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The Universal Conflict</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_UNIVERSAL_CONFLICT">3</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">An Eminent Georgian</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#AN_EMINENT_GEORGIAN">12</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">My First Derby</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#MY_FIRST_DERBY">20</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">On Eternal Life</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#ON_ETERNAL_LIFE">28</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The Next War—and Military Service</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_NEXT_WAR-AND_MILITARY">31</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">First Plays for Beginners</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#FIRST_PLAYS_FOR_BEGINNERS">39</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Hats</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#HATS">45</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Shareholders’ Blood</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#SHAREHOLDERS_BLOOD">52</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The Personal Column</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_PERSONAL_COLUMN">60</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Society Sideshows</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#SOCIETY_SIDESHOWS">64</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<th class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Latter-Day Dramas</span>:—</th> -<td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Morality</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#MORALITY">75</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Eternity and Post-Eternity</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#ETERNITY_AND_POST-ETERNITY">87</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The Enchanted Island</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_ENCHANTED_ISLAND">101</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">President Wilson</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#PRESIDENT_WILSON">112</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Jemima Bloggs</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#JEMIMA_BLOGGS">125</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Under Eastern Skies</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#UNDER_EASTERN_SKIES">132</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The Vodka Bottle</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_VODKA_BOTTLE">144</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">King David I</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#KING_DAVID_I">153</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The Slayboy of the Western World</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_SLAYBOY_OF_THE_WESTERN">158</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<th class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Impolitics</span>:—</th> -<td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">A Member of Parliament</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#A_MEMBER_OF_PARLIAMENT">167</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Woes of the Whips</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#WOES_OF_THE_WHIPS">174</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</span></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Young Men and “Maidens”</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#YOUNG_MEN_AND_MAIDENS">180</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Front Benches and Back Benches</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#FRONT_BENCHES_AND_BACK_BENCHES">188</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">“Order, Order”</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#ORDER_ORDER">196</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Lords and Commons</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#LORDS_AND_COMMONS">203</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<th class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Irreverent Interviews and Other Irrelevances</span>:—</th> -<td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">With Lord Balfour at the Washington Conference</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#WITH_LORD_BALFOUR_AT_THE">211</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">With Monsieur Briand after the Washington Conference</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#WITH_MONSIEUR_BRIAND_AFTER_THE">219</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">With Mr. Lloyd George during his Premiership</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#WITH_MR_LLOYD_GEORGE_DURING">227</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">With Lord Birkenhead on the Woolsack</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#WITH_LORD_BIRKENHEAD_ON_THE">235</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Old Tory</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#OLD_TORY">243</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Edward and Eustace</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#EDWARD_AND_EUSTACE">244</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The Two Wedgwoods</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_TWO_WEDGWOODS">249</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Songs of a Die-Hard</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#SONGS_OF_A_DIE-HARD">253</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Nursery Rhyme</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#NURSERY_RHYME">254</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The Old Member</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_OLD_MEMBER">255</a></td> -</tr> -</table> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> -</div> - - -<table class="shrink"> -<tr> -<td> </td> -<th class="tdr">PAGE</th> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Alleged “Interference” with the Heavenly Twins</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#alleged_interference"><span class="italic">Frontispiece</span></a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">Done Down on the Downs</span>”</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#done_down">23</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">In Which I Shall Look Less Ridiculous</span>”</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#in_which">47</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">And Obligingly Overturns Down an Embankment</span>”</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#and_obligingly">71</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">The Influence of That Man Shaw</span>”</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#influence_of">89</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">Life’s Very Hard</span>”</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#lifes_very">127</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">Ah! Little Fathers, This Poison——</span>”</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#rumbunski_ah">151</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">New Member, Sir?</span>”</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#new_member">169</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Edward and Eustace</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#edward_and">245</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Jovial Josiah Wedgwood and Bold Wedgwood Benn</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#jovial_josiah">251</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> -<h2>UNPARLIAMENTARY PAPERS</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="THE_UNIVERSAL_CONFLICT">THE UNIVERSAL CONFLICT</h3> -</div> - -<p class="ph">NINETEEN ANYTHING—NINETEEN SOMETHING ELSE</p> - -<p class="ph"><span class="smcap">By the Rt. Hon. Winsom Stunster Chortill</span></p> - -<p class="ph">CHAPTER MXCVII</p> - -<p class="ph"><span class="smcap">Golgotha</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="p90">More criticisms—My “interference” with the Heavenly -Twins—Suggested operations against Venus—My memoranda -on Venus and Jupiter—Detailed proposals—Our new -super-planetary battering-ram—Lord Krusher baffled—Correspondence -between us—Lord Krusher’s objections—My -reply—His antagonism—Meeting of the Allied -Planetary Council—Serious position—The Archangel -Gabriel’s shortcomings—My plan for saving the situation—The -crisis—My resignation—Reflections.</p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Scarcely</span> had died away the reverberations -of criticism, enhanced by venomous -personal attacks upon myself for my so-called -“interference” in the operations against -the Heavenly Twins, when a new crisis of even -more momentous significance was sprung upon -the Cabinet. In the previous December, with -the fullest concurrence of the First Air Lord -and the Board of Aerial Operations, I had planned -a lightning raid on the planet of Venus to be -carried out by our obsolete comets. The political<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> -situation has so important a bearing upon this -project that I must here interpolate a memorandum -which, as long before as the previous July, -I had addressed to the Secretary of State for -Extra Planetary Affairs and circulated to my -colleagues.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="italic">Memorandum.</span></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="italic">Mr. Chortill to the Extra Planetary Secretary.</span></p> - -<p>I can no longer preserve silence on the subject -of Venus. Venusian hostility may quite well -be fatal to the whole grand operation which we -and our planetary allies are at present co-ordinating -against the Central Planets. The -grip of Mars upon Venus is unquestionably -tightening; and, if no intervention is undertaken, -but, on the contrary, the spirit of <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">laissez-faire</i> is -allowed to prevail, we shall not only lose a strong -potential adherent, but, which is equally important, -also forfeit considerable sympathy -amongst our own people. The plan of the -Martians is quite plain. Availing themselves of -that well-known astronomical phenomenon—the -Transit of Venus—they will undoubtedly -utilise that period of uncertainty to detach this -wavering planet from our cause and bind her -irrevocably to themselves. That would be -nothing short of a disaster.</p> -</div> - -<p>At the same time, knowing his difficulties in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> -coping with the tasks of his office, I instructed -the faithful Smashterton Jones to convey the -following message to the Prime Minister himself:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center"><span class="italic">Mr. Chortill to the Prime Minister.</span></p> - -<p>I am seriously exercised in my mind about -Jupiter. I fear that, by confining ourselves to -the narrow requirements of tactical gain, we are -neglecting inter-planetary strategy. Do, I beg -you, consider this point. If Jupiter can be -induced—I don’t suggest that this proposal is -necessarily the best, but, let us say, by the offer -of one or both of the rings of Saturn under a -Mandate of the League of Planets—if Jupiter -could in this or some other manner be induced -to take an active part, at least in the aerial blockade -to cut off from the Central Planets the communication -which at present they enjoy outside the Solar -System, there is no doubt but that the conflict -would be sensibly shortened, and it might make a -difference of centuries. I enclose a Memorandum -on Venus which I have sent to the Extra -Planetary Secretary, and upon which I should -value your remarks.</p> - -<p class="right mr5"> -W. S. C. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Reverting now to the plan for an aerial raid -on the planet of Venus. We had the old comets, -quite ineffective for operations against the major -Planets, but powerful and not at all to be despised;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> -we had a satisfactory surplus of meteors which -could be employed in support; and we had in -addition the newly constructed, and in all respects -novel, planetary battering-ram, specially designed -for jarring, or, as the technical word is, “boosting” -heavenly bodies out of their orbits—the -apple of the eye of old Lord Krusher and the -Board of Aerial Construction. This formidable -engine, unique, as we were led to believe, in -the whole stellar universe, must in any case -carry out her trials somewhere, and might as well -be utilised in toppling a potential antagonist out -of our path, instead of being sent to the Milky -Way for the usual two months’ test. So much -for material. Of trained personnel we had, -though not an abundance, a reasonable margin. -Only one thing seemed to baffle the mighty war -mind of old Lord Krusher and our experts—a -satisfactory jumping-off place. Accordingly, the -day before the Cabinet met, I dictated the -following:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center"><span class="italic">First Lord to the First Air Lord.</span></p> - -<p>Referring to our conversation with regard to -the Venus Striking Force, and the necessity for -a jumping-off place, has it occurred to you that -the Mountains of the Moon are in every way -adapted for this purpose? A force of comets and -meteors with the necessary reserves, L. of C.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> -troops, etc., based upon this strategic point, not -only dominates the principal airways and traffic -routes, but points a spear directly at the heart of -the enemy. Request therefore that you will -examine this proposition, and, in conjunction -with Aerial Operations, furnish me immediately -with an estimate of the material, plant, etc., -required to convert these natural fastnesses into -a suitable base.</p> - -<p class="right mr5"> -W. S. C.<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<p>To this he replied in a characteristic letter:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Trusty and well-beloved Winsom,</p> - -<p>Your plan is, like yourself, marvellous! Nobody -but you could have thought of it. I could -turn the Mountains of the Moon into the base -you require in forty-eight hours, but for one overriding -difficulty, which your memorandum does -not meet. There is no <span class="allsmcap">AIR</span> on the Moon, my -Winsom, and human beings being what they are, -<em>air is necessary</em> <span class="allsmcap">IF THEY ARE NOT TO PERISH</span>.</p> - -<p>Only <span class="allsmcap">THREE</span> things are necessary to win the -war: <em>air</em>, <span class="allsmcap">SPEED</span>, and GUTS. I have got the -last, you are providing the second, but where -are we to get the AIR?</p> - -<p><em>Skegness?</em></p> - -<p>We had better try the Valley of the Dry Bones -instead, if the archæologists can find it for us. -Failing that, Sinbad’s cavern.</p> - -<p class="right mr30"> -Yours till Ginger pops, -</p> - -<p class="right mr5"> -<span class="smcap">Krusher</span>. -</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span></p> - -<p>This was the kind of thoughtless criticism -to which I was occasionally subjected by the old -air-dog.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Magnificent in his courage, more often -right than wrong, a splendid example of British -brain-power, there were times when he made the -error of estimating other people’s mental capacity -by his own. Time was pressing, so I wirelessed -the following reply:—</p> - -<p class="ml10"> -<span class="italic">First Lord to First Air Lord</span>: -</p> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="smcap">Take Supply of Oxygen in Canisters</span>,<br /> -</p> - -<p>which settled the matter. Alas! I was to discover -later that this too speedy resolution of his -difficulties was merely to succeed in antagonising -the bluff old warrior against the whole project.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the great Council of the Allied -Planets met, and it became all too apparent that -the operations, as a whole, were being pursued -with even more than our customary hesitation -and delay. The Archangel Gabriel, an excellent -First Minister in times of peace, was beginning -to give unmistakable signs of being too old and -slow-witted for his work. Since his well-remembered -and highly successful controversy with -Lucifer, some æons before, his powers had been -steadily waning; and it was speedily becoming -apparent that he had no longer the mental alertness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> -and vigour of body for a prolonged campaign -conducted under the stress of modern conditions. -At times—as, for instance, over the thunderbolt -shortage—he would arouse himself to prodigious -efforts, equalling, if not outstripping, his ancient -prowess. And then he would fall into always -increasing periods of apathy, from which there -was no extracting him.</p> - -<p>In these circumstances I wrote the following -memorandum:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center"><span class="italic">Memorandum by the Rt. Hon. Winsom Stunster -Chortill on the general situation</span>:</p> - -<p>We have now been at war for forty-three years -and eleven days. A prodigious expenditure of -blood and treasure has so far secured for us no -material advantage. The essential services are -suffering from lack of co-ordination. Much valuable -energy is being wasted in duplication of -effort.</p> - -<p>I have indicated in the accompanying appendices -(36 in number) detailed plans for a change -of policy on all the fronts, and I attach also an -additional memorandum with 7 sequellæ, 41 -maps and a detailed schedule of supplies, dealing -with the political situation likely to arise on the -Transit of Venus, and outlining a scheme of -operations for immediate consideration and -adoption.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span></p> - -<p>After all these years it becomes necessary to -say that the Allied cause is suffering from a want -of decision. As each new problem arises we -seem to be more and more unprepared. This -cannot be indefinitely prolonged, and only one -sensible solution presents itself—namely, that the -control of all policy, operations and forces should -be centred under one hand. Modesty forbids -the suggestion that the serious crisis in our -national fortunes demands that I should indicate -myself as the most suitable person to have charge -of this enterprise; but if consulted I should be -willing to express my opinion on the matter.</p> - -<p class="right mr5"> -W. S. C. -</p> -</div> - -<p>On the following day, the most fateful of my -life, I was unable to resist a foreboding that things -were not yet destined to go right for the Allied -cause. The careful records I had kept of my -administration satisfied me, as I looked through -them, that for all I had done I could assure -myself of the approval of posterity. We had -created, equipped and maintained a gigantic -aerial machine. No hostile forces had so much -as come within sight of our planet. My further -schemes, to which I had applied every existing -intellectual test, made us reasonably certain of a -speedy result; and I left my room and strode -across to the Council with a conviction in my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> -heart that I could carry through my proposals—and -yet with a haunting fear of the unexpected. -On arriving at the Council Chamber my forebodings -became heavier. The proceedings were -of a most perfunctory nature. All controversial -business was adjourned to a later meeting, and -we were informed that a crisis made it necessary -for the head of the Government to demand the -resignations of his entire Ministry. With a -heavy heart I parted with the insignia of my -office, realising, as I did so, that the struggle -must now be indefinitely prolonged. The head -of the Government, animated by that spirit -of kindliness towards myself which he had ever -shown, pressed me to accept a gilded sinecure. -With every wish to avoid giving him pain I felt -myself obliged to decline. Posterity, he told me, -would appreciate my zeal in the public service.</p> - -<p>Posterity, I felt to myself, as I left the building, -would, thanks to my diaries, at least understand.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> A kind of Skye terrier.—W. S. C.</p> - -</div> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="AN_EMINENT_GEORGIAN">AN EMINENT GEORGIAN</h3> -</div> - -<p class="ph"><span class="smcap">Some Extracts from an Essay in the Manner -of a Distinguished Writer</span></p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">During</span> the latter part of the closing -year of the nineteenth century, an English -traveller, sojourning with his wife and -daughter near the hot springs of Rotorua in New -Zealand, was observed one day to dash from the -verandah of his hotel, hatless, into the street, -and accost a passing urchin. The lad was singularly -unprepossessing; he squinted, his right -shoulder was strangely deformed, and his ears -were much too large for his head. Unlike most -children in receipt of flattering attentions from -an elderly and distinguished stranger, he snarled, -spat on the ground, and hurried away muttering -oaths. The astonished relatives of the traveller, -hurrying out in pursuit of him—in the belief, as -the wife said afterwards, that he was suddenly demented—found -their husband and parent almost -beside himself with excitement. “That boy,” -he said, pointing towards the receding figure a -hand that shook with emotion—“that boy will -end as Prime Minister of England.” Convinced -that his mind was wandering, they led him back -with soothing words to the hotel; but his unerring -judgment was once again to be confirmed by the -verdict of time. The speaker was Dr. Quank<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> -Brane, the eminent psychologist; the boy, soon -to be known to the greater part of the universe, -equally for the profundity of his wisdom and -the variety of his gifts and achievements, was -Erasmus Galileo McCann, philosopher, scientist, -theologian, naval and military strategist, scholar, -economist and some time First Minister of the -Crown.</p> - -<p>The boyhood of this monument of versatile -genius, no less than his manhood, was remarkable. -At the age of one, when dropped by his nurse, -a fact which accounted for the deformity of his -shoulder, he was distinctly heard, as if in anticipation -of his interjectional habits of later life, -to rip out an accusing oath; and, when the -startled slattern turned up her hands and eyes -in horror, he added, “Don’t stare like a fool, go -and get the doctor!” At three years old his -father presented him with all the volumes of -Buckle’s <cite>History of Civilisation</cite>, which he had -completely mastered before he was five. His -dissertation of <cite>The Lesser Cists in Invertebrates</cite>, -published at the age of seven, is still a standard -work of this little known branch of biological -science. Many years later an old friend of the -family told an admiring conclave of relatives of -an encounter with the young McCann, in which -he himself was considerably worsted. In the -course of a journey across the Warraboora plains,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> -a wild and almost uninhabited tract of country, -his provisions gave out. Some friendly natives -whom he encountered contrived to spare him -a few dried corn cobs, but these could hardly -last him indefinitely. Starvation stared him in -the face. One day, however, as he was making -a frugal meal of a large aboriginal lizard, that he -found entangled in the undergrowth, a strange -urchin dropped on his head from out of a tree -fern, uttering savage whoops, tore the carcass -from his astonished fingers, and devoured it -without a word of apology.</p> - -<p>“That,” said the older man with resignation, -“was my last morsel of food. I must now die.”</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je n’en vois pas la nécessité</i>,” returned the -youth (it was McCann), quoting La Rochefoucauld -with the nonchalance of complete -familiarity; wherewith he swung himself into the -branches of a Kauri pine, and disappeared without -another word. Giving himself up for lost, the -lonely traveller prepared for death; but before -nightfall the youth returned with a wallet of -provender, and accompanied by guides who -piloted them back to civilisation. The boy -appeared blissfully unaware that he had done -anything remarkable. “Such astonishing sang-froid,” -the traveller used to conclude, “I never -encountered before or since. I knew he was -destined for greatness.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span></p> - -<p>His schooldays and college life were curiously -uneventful. He secured the uncoveted distinction -of remaining at the bottom of the bottom -form of the school for three years, and of failing -ignominiously in the Cambridge Junior Local. -Wiseacres shook their heads and quoted scores -of instances of infantile precocity. It began to -look as though the early promise was after all no -more than a false dawn; and then, to everyone’s -astonishment, at the age of 19½ he planned, -financed and brought out <cite>The People’s Piffle</cite>, a -daily journal exactly corresponding to the literary -appetites of the masses of the British reading -public. Among other novel features of this newspaper, -alternative opinions were presented in -parallel columns on the leader page, the appointment -of the editor was subject to confirmation -or change every three months by a referendum -of the readers, and, in place of the obsolete insurances -against accident, continued subscription -for a period of 25 years or longer conferred a -pensionable right upon the subscriber.</p> - -<p>So momentous a development in the literary -activities of the country created a profound impression. -More than one well-known actress -sent him her autograph unsolicited. A film star -was heard to refer to him as “some guy.” The -Prime Minister of the day shook hands with him -in public. Lord Thundercliffe shook in his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> -shoes, and redoubled his fulminating denunciations -of everything. But the day of Lord -Thundercliffe was over: a new era was at hand, -the era of universal genius; and McCann, its -prophet and its leader, was even then poising -himself on the crest of the wave that was to -sweep away the wreckage of the old century, and -sweep in the reforms of the new, and sweep him -personally into a position of eminence hitherto -unknown in our annals.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Just at about this time a resident at Claydamp-on-the-Wash -was astonished, in the course of a -country walk, to see a tall, thin gentleman leaning -over a gate in an attitude of insupportable -dejection. The enormous brogues; the ill-fitting -brown suit; the high-domed forehead; -the bushy brown spade beard; the huge spectacles -perched on the lofty sensitive nose; the -dreamy eyes looking far away into the mists, all -suggested a certain literary personage. Could -it be? Was it possible? Overcoming a natural -hesitation at intruding upon the privacy of one -who was obviously a recluse, he hesitatingly -ventured to approach. “I beg your pardon,” he -said, “but surely I am addressing Mr. Lytton -Strachey?” and without giving the stranger -time to answer he added, “Is anything the -matter? Can I help in any way?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span></p> - -<p>The solitary turned upon him eyes that were -suffused with tears. “Oh, no,” he replied, “no. -Nothing. I was born too early, that is all.” -And on being pressed for a further explanation -he continued, “By the ordinary processes of -Nature I must inevitably predecease this monstrosity -of talent; and I am excluded from the -possibility of writing the only Georgian biography -that offers any kind of scope for my abilities.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He was of politics; and he was not of politics. -He built up abstract theories of Government in -his articles in the morning Press: and demolished -them in the evening in his speeches in the House -of Commons. He attracted the sympathies of -simple folk by a life of Spartan discipline; and -disgusted them by a profuse and shameless bestowal -of peerages and honours. He angled for -the votes of the mercenary and idle by a wholesale -creation of state benevolences; and threw away -what he had gained by an almost niggardly supervision -and husbandry of the national income. -As Controller and chief proprietor of the great -Press Trust, he denounced the infamies and -exactions of the great profiteering combines in -which he himself was the principal partner: and -as Prime Minister of a secular Government he -disestablished the Church of which he, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> -Cardinal Archbishop, was the protesting head. -Writing at about this time Count Puffendorff -Seidlitz, the Megalomanian Ambassador, reported -to his Government that it was perfectly vain to -cherish the slightest hope of undermining the -national popularity of one who so supremely -embodied in himself the qualities, and the -inconsistencies, and the portentous humbug that -chiefly characterised the nation of which he was -the head. Nothing could be done at present. -Above all there must be no haste. “But I do -not despair,” he added, “for, though ignorant -of music, the man has a certain coarse feeling -for the arts—and that, in a country of Philistines, -must in the long run betray him into our hands.”</p> - -<p>Fatal self-complacency! At the very moment -when those words were being penned, McCann -was—where? He was in the anteroom of the -Princess Vodkha, that luckless Ambassador’s -sovereign, waiting to seal with a courtly handclasp -the Trade Agreement between Megalomania -and this country. Poor Count Puffendorff -Seidlitz! Where Lord Thundercliffe and his -brother Lord Miasma has failed, it was hardly -to be supposed that he would succeed.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>So ended, in a thin filmy haze, a life of service -and sacrament. To the very end they thought<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> -he might be saved. The general public, brought -suddenly to the realisation of the approaching -calamity, stood dumbly in the streets, or hurried -away—hoping. But the sands were running -down; the tide, long since turned, was ebbing -with inexorable swiftness; the night was indeed -at hand. A greater and more terrible accuser -than Lord Thundercliffe hovered over the sick -man’s bed; and a greater and wiser Judge than -public opinion was waiting to pronounce the -verdict from which there is no appeal.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="MY_FIRST_DERBY">MY FIRST DERBY</h3> -</div> - - -<p>“<span class="smcap">No</span>,” I said, “as a matter of fact I’ve -never been to the Derby—and to tell -you the truth——” I went on.</p> - -<p>He winced. He did not want me to tell him -the truth. If the truth was (as it was) that I -didn’t care two cassowary’s eggs whether I went -to the Derby or not, that was the very last thing -he desired to hear. He wanted to keep his -opinion of me as unimpaired by such idiosyncrasies, -as I would permit. These thoughts -rippled over the mild surface of his features like -gusts of wind across the waters of a pond. I -allowed the words to die away in my throat. -After all, to give pain flagrantly—</p> - -<p>“Promise me,” he urged, “p-p-promise me -you’ll take a day off and go to-morrow. It’s one -of the sights of the world. The Downs black -with people——”</p> - -<p>“Black?” I murmured, “surely not in this -heat?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, covered with people then, stiff with -people, crowded for miles and miles with millions -and millions of all classes in the land——”</p> - -<p>“Dear, dear,” I said, “first, second, <em>and</em> -third!”</p> - -<p>He ignored this miserable attempt at buffoonery.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes,” he averred, “all classes in the land, -thimble-rigging, cocoanut shying, confidence -tricking, eating, drinking, laughing, cheering. -Vehicles of all sorts, shapes, sizes, motive power, -blocking all the roads in the neighbourhood. -And the horses, my dear boy, the horses! Until -you’ve seen those horses, trained to a hair, with -coats like satin, ready to run for their lives, why, -you simply haven’t seen anything. And the -crowd in the paddock. You <em>must</em> see the crowd -in the paddock. <em>And</em> the bookies. No man’s -lived, till he’s been done down on the Downs. -Now promise me faithfully——”</p> - -<p>“Very well,” I said hurriedly to forestall the -otherwise inevitable repetition, “I promise....”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was rather fun, I admit. From the moment -when the wheel-barrow on which, apparently, I -had made the journey in the company of a Zulu -chief, Lady Diana Manners, Mr. Justice Salter, -and a dear little Eskimo girl aged seven, drew up -at Boulter’s Lock—no, no—not Boulter’s Lock—Tattenham -Corner, I knew I was in for one of the -great days of my life. There, glittering in the -sunlight in all its pristine colouring, stood the -brand-new Tattenham Corner House, erected -for the occasion by Sir Joseph Lyons himself, -who, with Lord Howard de Walden on one side -of him and the Prime Minister on the other,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> -stood in the doorway receiving his guests. A -prodigious negro, with an unexpectedly small -voice, announced me (for some reason) as “Mr. -Mallaby Deeley,” and I found myself walking -on a vast deep verandah, laid out with innumerable -little luncheon tables, through which -a long procession of horses was intricately -manœuvring.</p> - -<p>“The paddock,” murmured my Zulu companion. -“It’s an idea of Sir Joseph’s. The -combination of a sit-down luncheon and form at a -glance. Extraordinarily convenient.”</p> - -<p>We sat down at a table. Immediately a -jockey and his horse sat down opposite to us.</p> - -<p>“Order us a drink each, dearie,” said the -jockey, “it’s a fearful business this perambulatin’ -about; and you get nothing for it. Eh? Oh, -gin for <em>’er</em>, and I’ll take a glass o’ port.”</p> - -<p>“And what is your young friend’s name?” -enquired the judge, suddenly putting his head -from under the table.</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said the jockey, knowingly, “that ’ud -be telling, that would.” He tapped his nose -mysteriously and drank.</p> - -<p>“But, my good sir,” complained the judge, -“how can I back your horse if I don’t know its -name?”</p> - -<p>“By the process of elimination,” said the -jockey sagely.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp56" id="done_down" style="max-width: 115.9375em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/done_down.jpg" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"><p>“Done down on the Downs.”</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span></p> - -<p>“Elimination,” said the judge, “what of?”</p> - -<p>“Yourself,” said the jockey; and his mount -choked coyly in her glass.</p> - -<p>At this moment the King appeared, followed -by Aristotle, Sir Thomas Beecham, and others.</p> - -<p>“The next race is about to begin,” he said -severely, “and you’ve none of you brushed your -hair.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was a long time before I found the bookmaker. -Any number of spurious ones rose up -in my path and taunted me; but He always -escaped. At last I thought of looking under -one of the thimbles; and there he was in deep -calculation.</p> - -<p>“What price Poltergeist?” I demanded. I -wanted to say Psychology, but the word somehow -refused to shape itself.</p> - -<p>“It all depends,” he replied shrewdly, “on -whether you want to buy or to sell,” wherewith -he crossed his legs, smiled on only one side of -his face, and returned to his calculations.</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you a bookmaker?” I faltered.</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” he cried shrilly, “and I’m making -a book now, can’t you see?” He held up a kind -of primitive loose-leaf ledger, made of calico pages -bound in sheepskin.</p> - -<p>“Very durable,” he explained, and broke into -a harsh chant:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry cpoetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0 outdent">“If I lay sevens and fours</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And you take fives and threes—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">What do they care for gaming laws,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Who have not felt the squeeze,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Who sacrifice the world’s applause</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And gain ignoble ease?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">With odds laid off or on,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And prices up or down——”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He broke off abruptly and rose to his feet. -The miscellany in his lap was scattered upon the -ground.</p> - -<p>“Pick up my work-basket,” he exclaimed, -“and give me the kaleidoscope,” I handed him -the strange black instrument at which he was -pointing, and began groping on my knees among -the pins and needles. He turned towards the -sun, and gazed at it through the object in his hand.</p> - -<p>“Look out,” he exclaimed suddenly, “they’re -off.”</p> - -<p>Simultaneously a voice near me said, “The -King’s calling you,” and I began to run. Immediately -the hounds were slipped from the leash, -and the hunt settled down in my wake. The -ship began to sway from side to side, and the -roaring grew louder and louder. Still I ran, -flashing past the booths, past upturned umbrellas -with cards scattered over them, past the stewards’ -enclosure, past the Royal Box. The thundering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> -grew louder and more insistent. I was flying -along the track with the whole field plunging -after me. Hoarse cries. I redouble my efforts. -My head is going to burst. The Royal Box -whizzes past again. The winning post. I’m -falling....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A long time afterwards, a voice said:</p> - -<p>“He’s quite all right. A touch of heat-stroke -is nothing, really, you know. Quiet. Couple of -days in bed.”</p> - -<p>I opened my eyes.</p> - -<p>“Sir Joseph Lyons——” I began.</p> - -<p>“All right,” said the doctor, “you shut up.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve promised to go to the Derby,” I protested.</p> - -<p>“Next year,” replied the doctor. “Just -drink this, will you?”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="ON_ETERNAL_LIFE">ON ETERNAL LIFE</h3> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Somebody</span>—a certain Dr. Friedenberg -to be truthful—has thrown out suggestions -of the dreadful possibility of indefinitely -prolonging the human existence; in fact of -bringing about a kind of mundane immortality. -Hair is to be made to grow upon bald heads -(no, mine is not bald); short men will increase -in stature by several inches; and fat men will -become slender and graceful. The last is perhaps -an attractive prospect. Wait. Tell me this.</p> - -<p>Who wants to live for ever? And having -disposed of that pertinent question, in the affirmative -if you will, who wants his neighbour to live -for ever?</p> - -<p>Who wants to stereotype the control of human -affairs in the hands that find it so difficult to -control them? What becomes of young ideas, -new movements and general progress, in a universe -of bald pates thatched, short men grown taller and -corpulence made small? For in all this one -hears nothing about recharging the brain; -and bodily vigour does little to stave off mental -paralysis of the kind that usually comes on with -age. Would flowing hair and graceful figure -countervail the growth of avarice, deceit and -malice; or check the relentless march of stupidity? -Would it not rather be the case, that from year<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> -to year all the more unpleasant of human characteristics -would intensify and harden?</p> - -<p>And, by the way, think of the population of this -miserable little globe in a thousand years or so. -Nobody dies. We all live and multiply for -eternity. It increases by geometric progression. -To-day we are, let us say, a paltry thousand -million of people. In a year’s time, at a conservative -estimate, we should double our population. -In a few hundred years—good heavens! Life -would become like the platform of Piccadilly -Circus at six o’clock in the evening.</p> - -<p>Piccadilly! This subject is inextricably -bound up in my mind with Piccadilly. I will -explain why.</p> - -<p>Not long ago, when musing upon Dr. Friedenberg’s -discoveries, I had occasion to use the railway -of that name. I boarded a crowded train, -thinking deeply. I took my place (most incautiously, -I admit, but there happened to be no -other place to take) standing beside a forbidding -military gentleman, whose arms were full of brown -paper parcels. In the immediate vicinity stood a -large stern woman, solidly planted near the door, -who disdained the help of the strap and supported -herself, with arms akimbo and legs wide apart.</p> - -<p>The train ran smoothly enough through Dover -Street and Down Street, and my line of thought, -on this problem of perpetual life, developed into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> -a kind of saga to the rhythm of the movement over -the rails. The whole subject went before my -eyes like a glorious vision. I knew just what I -was going to say in this essay....</p> - -<p>And then the train back-jumped, and the large -stern woman, in the effort to retain her balance, -planted one of her feet with relentless precision, -exactly on one of mine, and simultaneously drove -her right elbow into my ribs. In really considerable -agony I recoiled, involuntarily loosening -my grip of the supporting strap. Immediately -the train swerved, and threw me into the bosom -of the military gentleman, whose armful of -parcels burst from his control and smothered -the occupants of the neighbouring seats. Muttering -imprecations, he crouched on the swaying -floor and began to pick them up. I stooped to -help him; and our heads met with a grinding -crash....</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the woman—the—the unspeakable -monster who had caused the calamity, stood -entirely unmoved, gazing through the glass -doors at the conductor.</p> - -<p>Think of such a person going down through -all eternity committing outrages of this kind—probably -one a day. Eternal life? Penal servitude -for life is more to her deserving.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="THE_NEXT_WAR-AND_MILITARY">THE NEXT WAR—AND MILITARY -SERVICE</h3> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Russia</span> and Germany have joined hands; -France and Belgium have banded together; -Italy has made a secret treaty with the -Kemalists—a fact which can hardly afford much -satisfaction to the kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and -Slovenes, leave alone the Greeks! Poland and -her neighbours are on much the same terms of -cordiality as rival opera singers. There is -Bessarabia; there is (so to call it for convenience) -Germania Irridenta; there is the Burgenland; -all simmering merrily away. There are heartburnings -in Transylvania. I cannot think that -even the Sanjak is really placid—it has always -wallowed in grievances from time immemorial. -Indeed (so I am told), it needs but a spark to set -the whole contraption in a blaze. Only a spark!... -We are sitting on a wood pile soaked in -petrol; and the boys at Paris and elsewhere are -out with their tinder-boxes.</p> - -<p>Viewed from one point of view, this situation -has arisen very appositely to certain investigations -conducted not long ago by <cite>The Times</cite>, and provides -a capital solution to the problems of how to find -careers for our sons, and what to do with our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> -daughters. But there are some of us<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> to whom -even the satisfaction of starting our children in -(or rather out of) the world, would be but a poor -recompense for the physical discomfort (it’s not -the danger; we none of us mind <em>danger</em>; we -rather like it) of resuming active hostilities ourselves. -As Leggitt says<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a>: “Danger I scorn; -but discomfort is the parent of anxiety; and -anxiety is the handmaid of despair.” That’s -good enough for me.</p> - -<p>Besides, wars are not what they were. The -last war was, to a great extent, won, and the next -war will be entirely won, behind the lines. -“Lord Northcliffe,” says a military historian<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> -in his article on war in the Encyclopædia, “Lord -Northcliffe dealt heavier blows than Haig. Haig -hit harder than Rawlinson, Rawlinson than -Godley, and Godley (through a long string of -intermediary Blenkinsops and Chislehursts) than -Private Muggins. In fact, the whole lesson of -the war was that Muggins didn’t matter twopennyworth -of gin. The further back you were, -the more you could do. If Captain Slogger, -the Company Commander, stopped one—why,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> -anybody else could carry on. But if the -R.T.O.’s clerk at the base went down with -writer’s cramp, the repercussions might be felt -all over Europe. And in the next war....” -And so on.</p> - -<p>Push this to its logical conclusion and what do -you find? An entirely new conception of the -theory of national service. The duty of every -man, with love of country in his heart, is to fit -himself to play a far-reaching, noble, and adequate -part in the next war—from a distance at which -brains will really tell. As Sir Cuthbert puts it, -“The duty of the soldiers of the future is to -consolidate the front behind the front.” No -mawkish sentimental considerations should interfere -with the attainment of this. “If others -have to fall in the front line, drop a tear, good -citizen, or if you feel so disposed, drop two tears. -But for the sake of your country, and its final -victory in the struggle, <em>see to it that you are not -the one who falls</em>.”</p> - -<p>I will. I will see to it with punctilious care. -It is my duty; and I shall discharge it with the -same devotion as I displayed in the last war, when -I rose from assistant warehouse clerk (graded as -bombardier) in the E.F.C. receiving shed, via -R.T.O.’s clerk at Boulavre (graded as Staff -Sergeant of Musketry), assistant press censor -(graded as Squadron Leader of Cavalry with rank<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> -of Captain) and Base Commandant (graded as -G.S.O. 2, but with rank of colonel on the staff -and pay and allowances of a Lieutenant-General) -to the proud position which I occupied at the -end. I have nothing to complain of.... I -cannot deny that I had all kinds of obstacles to -overcome. Ignorant prejudiced fools, blind to -the interests of their country, were constantly -endeavouring to comb me out. And so it will -be in the next war. The earnest patriot will find -himself thwarted and misunderstood at every -turn. Nothing but a knowledge of the niceties -of the medical board, will avail to defeat these -busybodies. Indeed, it may at times be necessary -to indulge in a little pardonable deception. -Thus, a cigarette soaked in laudanum, and smoked -half an hour before the doctor’s examination, will -produce all the symptoms of general paralysis, -heart failure, and abdominal catarrh; yet, in an -hour or two at most, the smoker will have recovered -most of his faculties, and the remainder -will return in, at the outside, a few days. A -glass of vinegar, swallowed without deglutition, -produces the pallor of a ghost and the pulse and -temperature of a lizard; yet the effects have -rarely lasted longer than a week. And there are, -of course, such well-known (but to my thinking -too crude) expedients as self-inflicted wounds and -even amputations.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span></p> - -<p>Perhaps it is best, indeed, to make preparations -in advance. It must never be forgotten that a -large civilian population is necessary to carry on -what are called “the essential public services.” No -one should disdain to do his duty in one of these -capacities. And if, as in the last war, the only -sons of widowed mothers are to be given special -consideration, we must not hesitate to take full -advantage of such a provision. A judicious use -of the knife or poison cup, or possibly a combination -of the two, will place many a strapping fellow -in the necessary condition of exemption.</p> - -<p>Promptski-Buzzoff, in his elaborate, but too -little known, treatise “<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Die Vermeidung des -Kriegesdienstes</i>”<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> lays down that “the spinal -marrow of a nation is to be found in the conscience -of its citizens.” This is profoundly and undeniably -true. The pages of history are bespattered -with the fragments of empires that -have disintegrated through the decay of their -moral fibre. Every good citizen, says Buzzoff, -should cultivate a conscience as inflexible as -Bessemer steel. A properly cultivated conscience -will no more permit its owner to kill, or be killed, -than a vacuum brake will let a train run away. -It’s automatic. You mention the word war, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> -there’s an instant inhibition. This kind of thing -however, needs considerable preparation. It is -always open to misinterpretation if your conscience -doesn’t develop until the outbreak of -war; although that, in itself, is not a consideration -which ought to deter a man with the interests -of his country at heart.</p> - -<p>Many of us, again, are indispensable. Until late -in 1917, I was indispensable myself. And next -time I fully intend to be indispensable all through -the war. I shall get elected to some legislative -body—say the London County Council; and my -devotion to duty will do the rest. But, of course, -in case of mischance I shall be prepared with an -alternative plan, several alternative plans in fact. -And, in the last resort, I shall place my services at -the disposal of the Director-General of Lines of -Communication. After all, speaking as one who -has already fought a campaign in that capacity, -one has a sense of responsibility and power, even -in the humblest posts behind the line, of which -even Divisional and Corps commanders might be -envious. As an R.T.O.’s assistant, one is conscious -of a control over the destinies of others, -that almost partakes of divinity. A motion of -the hand, a word on a scrap of paper, and divisions -and their baggage may be separated for ever; -provisions consigned to one country may find -themselves devoured in another; and Generals<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> -waiting to begin a battle may awake on zero day -to the fact that they have no forces, except their -staffs, wherewith to fight.</p> - -<p>It will be understood that I offer these suggestions -on the understanding that we find ourselves -allied to a country in which there will be -some approximation, in the amenities offered to -L. of C., to those enjoyed in the larger cities in -France during the war. Otherwise, frankly, -nothing doing! I have been studying the appendices -to Splitz’s book on the Russian Army<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a>; and -the feeding is hardly up to what I might call a -civilised war standard. Thus, on L. of C., the -weekly ration allowance appears to be four gold -roubles’ worth of straw soup, three poods of -lycopodium seed cake, and two samovars of -liquorice water, together with thirty-seven foot-calories -of bonemeal and a packet of spearmint—which, -although it compares favourably with the -diet of Divisional and Corps Commanders in that -country<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a>, has but little attraction for the gourmet. -And in any case what about the residuum? -After all, we can’t all of us expect <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">carte blanche</i> to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> -send trains backwards and forwards—passed to -you, please, and to you, please, and so on. Even -on the grander scale, there’ll never be room for -more than a million or so R.T.O.’s all told (and -that will include the other side). Something’s -got to be done for the rest of us. Even the -L. of C. troops will be up to full strength at last. -They’ll absorb a number of millions; but they’ll -fill up eventually. Even the essential public -services at home can’t be swelled indefinitely. -There will come a time when everything useful -has been filled up, and there are still people left -over.</p> - -<p>Well, we can’t all be satisfied in this world. It -was never intended that we should. And, so far -as I can see, the overplus will have to make themselves -comfortable in the trenches. It will be a -galling thought to them that they’re poked away -there out of everything, with no real work to do. -But it doesn’t really matter, for we’ll win the -war all right.</p> - -<p>We’ll win it in spite of them.</p> - - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> I except, of course, Drigg, Bootlecut, Volmer, and their -insignificant following.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> <cite>The Psychology of Post-Metempsychosis.</cite> J. Swift Leggitt. -The Mangy Press. 5s.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> Sir Cuthbert Limpitt, K.B.E., a former Director of the -Ministry of Misinformation.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> Berlin, 1921. Published in an English translation under -the title <cite>Military Service and its Avoidance</cite>. Blottow and -Windupp, 1922. 7s. 6d.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> <cite>The Russian Army, its Organisations and Morale.</cite> By -Hermann Splitz. Boonkum and Co., New York. Two vols. -$4.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> And that is only in the larger cities such as Yekanakaterinakanaka. -In the smaller towns and villages the amount would -be much less!</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span></p> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="FIRST_PLAYS_FOR_BEGINNERS">FIRST PLAYS FOR BEGINNERS</h3> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">This</span> is the Truth about the production -of first plays.</p> - -<p>First the author, in the secrecy of his -chamber, painfully gives birth to an idea, and -clothes it in words—if possible of not more than -one syllable. Then he shows it to his best -friend, who obligingly points out that the whole -conception is faulty, and that the dialogue is -beneath contempt. He then reads it to his -second-best friend, who wakes from his slumber -greatly refreshed. By the end of a short period -he has no friends left: but he has learnt a few -of the more obvious imperfections of his work. -In despair of ever reconciling the conflicting -criticisms to which it has been subjected, he -posts it defiantly to Grossmith and Malone, Sir -Alfred Butt, Mr. Charles Cochran, Mr. Laurillard, -Mr. de Courville, and the whole gang of impresarios. -It returns from each of them accompanied -by a printed slip. He then slinks to the office -of a dramatic agent.</p> - -<p>The dramatic agent is a florid man with a -super-silk hat. He receives the author with the -gracious condescension of royalty greeting an -inferior. The author, overcome at the honour -which is being conferred, gratefully deposits his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span> -precious MS. in the luxurious plush-padded -basket which is held out by an underling. The -basket is reverently placed upon the table; -mutual expressions of goodwill are exchanged; -the author is bowed out.</p> - -<p>Then the dramatic agent shakes the MS. out -of the basket, as though it were verminous; pitchforks -it into the recesses of a safe; locks the safe -with a loud clang, and loses the key for two years.</p> - -<p>At the end of two years Cyrus K. Bimetaller, -the celebrated “Stunt” King, visits the dramatic -agent to throw in his teeth the forty-seven -separate scripts of forty-seven separate plays—but -why go into this? He says that all dealings -between them are at an end, and demands his -account. The dramatic agent mechanically opens -the safe to get out his books—and there lies the -neglected MS. As a last bid for fortune he -places it eloquently in the hands of Cyrus K. -The latter grunts, and sprawls on the sofa to -“size it up.” This process occupies five minutes. -At the end of that time he remarks laconically, -“This is the goods.”</p> - -<p>The author is now summoned from Kilimanjaro, -where he is growing grape-fruit, in order to -give his assistance at rehearsals. He arrives, -however, only just in time for the first night, -when scores of hands drag him on to a prodigiously -vast stage to abase himself before a jeering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> -audience. His spasmodic efforts to speak merely -confirm the impression that he is a congenital -epileptic.</p> - -<p>Next day the newspapers, after a flattering -reference to his personal appearance, unite in -denouncing the play as the work of a man with -the intelligence of a crossing-sweeper and the -originality of a jackass. These comments are -judiciously edited and made up as posters. The -effect is stupendous, and the public flocks to the -theatre. The author is a made man.</p> - -<p>At least, he hopes he is.</p> - -<p>Letters pour in upon him from all quarters -demanding more plays from his pen. Actresses -lie in wait for him at garden parties, and say, -archly, “Oh, Mr. Blotto, when are you going to -write a play for <em>me</em>?” Actor-managers call him -“old boy”; and allow themselves to be seen -shaking hands with him. The gifted gods and -goddesses who are performing his play make no -secret of his acquaintance. The great Cyrus K. -Bimetaller strokes a mighty stomach in silence. -The dramatic agent grunts, “I told you so,” and -gives another polish to the super-silk hat. -Melisande, writing her customary column in the -<cite>Evening Quacker</cite>, observes: “Last night, at Mr. -Blotto’s delightful play which is charming London, -I saw the Duchess of Dripp, Count Sforzando, -Mr. and Miss Mossop, and the Hon. ‘Toothy’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> -Badger. The house was crowded, of course. -Mr. Blotto himself looked in during the evening, -but hurried away on being recognised. He is so -retiring.”</p> - -<p>In the middle of this chorus of enthusiasm the -author bashfully brings forward another play. -Everyone scrambles to read it. Each points out -a separate defect. All unite in pronouncing it -“essentially undramatic.” It finds its way into -that limbo of lost manuscripts, the safe of the -silk-hatted agent. Setting his teeth, the author -completes another play. It passes from hand to -hand, becoming dog-eared in the journey, and -finally returns to him, in silence and tatters. It -seems hardly worthwhile adding it to the mountains -of paper on the Agent’s shelves, so somebody -tosses it behind a book-case, where it is treated -with the scorn it merits by mice and insects. -By now the first play has been supplanted by a -Bessarabian allegory, and the author’s name has -long been forgotten. Still buoyed up with hope, -he plans a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">chef d’œuvre</i>—a drama. “Something -Shakespearian,” he modestly proclaims. Very -few people, however, even bother to read this, -all eyes being fixed on a genius from Kurdistan, -who is taking away the breath of theatrical London -in a play written entirely in Esperanto. The -author spends his last few shillings on a ticket to -the Argentine, and begins a fresh life as a herdsman.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span></p> - -<p>Years pass. The author is far from unsuccessful -in his new venture. In fact, he becomes -extremely wealthy. He buys up his employer’s -<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">hacienda</i>. He buys up several other people’s -<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">haciendas</i>. He buys up the greater part of the -Argentine Republic. He has serious thoughts of -buying up South America and selling it to the -United States. But his better nature prevails, -and he returns to England and buys a peerage -instead. On the day appointed for him to be -introduced to the House of Lords, his eye happens -to see the poster of a new play—<cite>The Dusky Child</cite>. -The name touches a chord. He recognises it as -his own work. He forgets his engagement with -the Peers of the Realm, and hurries off once again -in pursuit of literary reputation.</p> - -<p>His old friend the dramatic agent is comparatively -unchanged. He is a little more silk-hatted, -a little more rotund, and a little more -contemptuous of every one else. He recognises -the author at once, ejaculates laconically: “I -told you so,” and takes him to meet Erasmus W. -Bogg, the new impresario who is producing the -play. They hurriedly prepare for the first night. -The Lord Chancellor is very annoyed. The -author snaps his fingers. At last literary fame -is in his grasp. It seems an extraordinarily cold -winter, but that doesn’t really matter. He -hurries on the rehearsals, snapping his fingers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span></p> - -<p>How amazingly chilly it has become.</p> - -<p>The House of Lords are sending the Lieutenant -of the Tower to arrest him. Ha, ha, let them. -He snaps his fingers.</p> - -<p>Really, this weather, after the climate of the -Argentine, is beyond a joke. For goodness sake -hurry up with that scenery. What’s that about -the Lord Chancellor? Mr. Ramsay MacDonald—what? -The who?</p> - -<p>Eh?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He wakes up to find his cherished first play still -unperformed—still, indeed, uncompleted. Kilimanjaro, -a dream. The Argentine, a dream. -The peerage—a dream, too. He shudders at that -escape.</p> - -<p>Brr! Why, dammit, the fire’s out!</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="HATS">HATS</h3> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> hat, says my copy of the Concise -Oxford Dictionary, is “man’s, woman’s -outdoor headcovering, usually with brim.” -Not unto me the glory of writing about woman’s -outdoor headcovering. These mysteries are too -sacred to be profaned. But man’s hats are another -thing. I have a number of my own. There is none -of which I am not, in secret, ashamed.</p> - -<p>Some men have the faculty of knowing what -hats they can wear with credit—or, if not with -credit, at least without sacrifice of self-respect. -They go to the hatter, pick out a perfectly -ordinary “headcovering” (usually “with brim”), -and leave the shop gorgeously transformed. -Their very discards can be reblocked and made to -look, if anything, better than new. And I? I -go from one hatter to another in an endless -pilgrimage in search of something in which I shall -look less ridiculous (observe I say “less ridiculous”—I -am easy to please), and find it never. -I follow my friends into the places where they -hat themselves; I allow myself to be persuaded -into buying some hateful contrivance—“a perfect -fit, sir”; and in three days the damn thing shrinks -so that I can’t get it on my head. Or again, I -try to allow for this by ordering a larger size, -whereafter, either I spend the whole of my spare<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> -time stuffing the lining with paper or else it -gradually but relentlessly sinks, and settles on -the bridge of my nose.</p> - -<p>The very brims play tricks with me. I have a -bowler. I bought it, I distinctly remember, on -account of the width of its brim. I have always -liked a wide brim. Not that it ever keeps off -the sun or rain, but somehow it gives confidence. -There is something spacious about a wide brim. -Something suggestive of an opulence to which I -have in no other way ever pretended.</p> - -<p>Well. Anyhow. I gave up wearing my bowler, -because it insisted on shrinking. It perched itself -higher and higher on my head, until I began to -think it really wasn’t safe. It might fall off and -get run over. Nobody wants to expose even a -rebellious hat to the dangers of London traffic. -I went to my hatter (why I say <em>my</em> hatter I can’t -think. Nobody is my hatter. Many have tried, -none has succeeded). I went to <em>a</em> hatter; bought -a large brown felt hat, wore it away (like a bride -setting out for the honeymoon); and arranged for -the bowler to be safely conveyed to my home, -hoping that all would be well.</p> - -<p>Well? Not a bit of it. The brown hat -swelled and swelled. All the newspapers in -London contributed in their turn to keeping us -from parting. In vain. That hat had a craving -for adventure; it wanted to make its way in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> -world alone; and a gust of east wind carried it -(together with so much of the “Evening News” -as had enabled it to maintain a precarious balance -on my brow) under a passing bus. I hurried -home with feelings almost of friendship for my -erring bowler. I said magnanimously that forgiveness——</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp47" id="in_which" style="max-width: 96.125em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/in_which.jpg" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"><p>“In which I shall not look so ridiculous.”</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Somehow it didn’t look the same. I was -prepared to swear that when I handed it -over to the hatter (<em>my</em> hatter, very well) it -did in some sort cover my head. But now—it -had diminished to the size of a child’s toy. -And the brim—the brim had shrunk to the -merest shadow.</p> - -<p>I have at last given up the struggle. I wear -anything that comes along. Not that it matters. -People have survived their hats before now. -These, after all, are the merest idiosyncrasies of -head-covering. Observe, for instance, the hats -of the great. There you find something of real -distinction.</p> - -<p>It is one of the curious things about really -great men that they are unable to resist the -bizarre in hats. They don’t turn out in strange -trousers, or curiously contrived coats. You don’t -see them walking about in sandals, or veldtschoons. -They don’t tie up their beards with ribbon; or -shave their eyebrows; or put caste-marks on their -faces. Right up to their head-coverings they are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> -indistinguishable from you and me. I don’t -wish to flatter us, but very often they are less -pleasant to look at ... and then their -greatness declares itself, or their originality -breaks loose, or some other eerie characteristic -finds its appropriate expression, in the form of -an article of apparel about as distinctive and -ugly as Britannia’s helmet.</p> - -<p>Not long ago I met a noble Viscount, a man who -might easily become Prime Minister—I saw him, -I mean; I encountered him in the street. He -was wearing a hat that suggested a bowler, but -was not a bowler—that might have been a -“Daily Mail” hat, only it was black with a dull -surface, and, if I may so put it, had soft rounded -lines in place of sharp ones—that—that in fact -was indescribable. The rest of his garments -were those of a normal citizen. There were no -unfamiliar excrescences on his coat. His collar -and tie were much like my own.</p> - -<p>Later in the day I saw in front of me a tall, -hurrying figure striding towards the House of -Commons. The stooping gait and sombre -clothing might easily have been those of a mere -scholar or clergyman. But the figure bore upon -its head a shapeless contrivance of purple velvet; -and by that I knew it was—(well, you know who -it was as well as I do).</p> - -<p>Look at Mr. Winston Churchill. Look at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> -Admiral Beatty. Whoever saw a service hat -quite like Admiral Beatty’s? Though I admit, -in his case, the oddity is accentuated by his -way of wearing it. Look at the hats of foreign -potentates. Look at——</p> - -<p>Look at Mr. Lloyd George. I have never -actually seen him in one of his “family” hats—but -I know his hatted appearance intimately -through a picture. It is a photograph representing -“the man who won the war,” as a -vigorous smiling personage in a grey tweed suit. -It seems to be very much the kind of suit that -you or I might select for golf. But—here -distinction creeps in—the upper part of his body -is swathed in something that resembles a horse -blanket ... and he is crowned with the -headdress of a Tyrolean brigand.</p> - -<p>I am going to be a great man. I know it by -my hats.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="SHAREHOLDERS_BLOOD">SHAREHOLDERS’ BLOOD</h3> -</div> - -<p class="center">GRAND (TRUNK) FEATURE SERIAL.<br /> -CANADIAN FILMS LIMITED.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">We</span> are in the Wild West of Canada—a -land full of mustangs and moccasins. -People with hard faces are riding about -in strange clothes. Gently nurtured maidens are -scrubbing out the cowshed, or digging up the -manure heap. The hired-woman is sitting in the -sunlight with a book. It is a typical scene in a -British Dominion; we know it is Canada, however, -because there’s a flick, and the screen says:</p> - -<p class="center"> -THIS IS THE CITY OF BISON SNOUT,<br /> -FED BY THE GRAND TRUNK RAILWAY,<br /> -CANADA’S PREMIER RAILROAD. -</p> - -<p>Then there’s another flick, and, lo! a magnificent -train, racing across the prairie, gives us a hint that -we are watching Canada’s premier railroad in -operation. The screen obligingly confirms this -impression by—<span class="smcap">Flick</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -LUXURY, SPEED, AND SECURITY.<br /> -THE GRAND TRUNK MILLIONAIRES’<br /> -LIMITED THUNDERING ACROSS THE<br /> -CONTINENT<br /> -ON ITS JOURNEY TO BISON SNOUT. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span></p> - -<p>The scene changes, now, to a precipitous hill -overlooking the smiling valley through which the -train is thundering. Far away you can see her -plume of smoke, racing across the sky. And here, -in the foreground, are two sinister figures, -mounted on the inevitable mustangs, masked -and visored, grim and silent. Oo! They look like -Irish gunmen; and as soon as they espy the train -they turn simultaneously to each other and -exclaim with sinister emphasis—<span class="smcap">Snick</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -THERE’S BOODLE IN THIS. -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Click</span>—and we’re back again with our two -desperadoes, galloping like mad from their point -of vantage towards their luckless prey. (<span class="italic">Noise off—cloppety, -cloppety, cloppety, clop.</span>)</p> - -<p>Next we have a close-up of the train as it -speeds over the landscape. The passengers are -sitting back in their places, wreathed in smiles. -They like their train. They think it particularly -safe; and behind it all there is the feeling of -immense security derived from the thought that -they are travelling in a British Dominion of the -British Empire under the waving protection of -the Union Jack on which the sun never -sets. The orchestra interprets their thoughts, -and ours, by playing a selection of patriotic -melodies.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span></p> - -<p>Now we are shown something really out of the -way. Thus: <span class="smcap">Snick</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -ON THE FOOTPLATE. -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Flick</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -SWAYING ALONG AT HUNDREDS OF<br /> -MILES AN HOUR, THE JOVIAL<br /> -ENGINEER AND HIS MERRY COLLABORATORS<br /> -PASS THE TIME WITH<br /> -DANCE AND SONG. -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Click</span>: And there they are, swaying like dipsomaniacs, -dancing like dervishes, and opening their -mouths like bullfrogs in a drought. Of course, -you can’t hear what they’re singing, but a gramophone -(<em>off</em>) obligingly strikes up at this moment:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry cpoetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Sons of the sea,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">All British born,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Sailing every ocean,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Laughing foes to scorn—</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>and so on. A little inappropriate to the setting -perhaps; but, oh, how apposite to what follows!</p> - -<p>Suddenly the face of the jovial engineer clouds -over. He shades his eyes with his hands. Rushing -to the eyeholes, he peers out into the day. -His collaborators copy him. We know something -is coming. We stir uneasily in our seats. Somehow -we can’t help associating this action with the -two sinister——What’s that? He’s beckoning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> -to the chief mate (or whatever the fellow’s called). -The chief mate’s beckoning to him. Neither -dares leave the eyeholes. How can they communicate -with each other? Still the train -speeds on. Oh! the engineer’s drawing his -revolver. Ah! it’s empty! So is the chief mate’s. -So is everybody’s. He flings it down with a curse. -He’s going to speak to the chief mate. He’s -speaking: <span class="smcap">Snick</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -SAY, YOU GUYS, IT’S HELL OR HOME.<br /> -AND ME FOR HOME! -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Flick</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -STOKE UP YOUR BOILERS, YOU BLEAR-EYED<br /> -SKUNKS! -</p> - -<p>An underling flings open the door of the furnace. -He staggers back. Empty! He rushes with -a shovel to the coal bunkers. The others rush -after him. Oh, there’s no coal! The train’s -slowing down every minute. The desperadoes -are riding nearer and nearer. We can hear the -thunder of their hoofs—I mean their horses’ -hoofs. (<span class="italic">Noise off—cloppety, cloppety, cloppety, -clop.</span>)</p> - -<p>Ah! what are they doing now? They’re going -to throw one of the underlings into the furnace -to keep the train going. They’re going to burn -the engineer and the chief mate. They’re going<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> -to pull the engine to pieces and burn that. Anything -to escape. Anything to escape....</p> - -<p>Suddenly the chief mate, who’s looking through -the eyehole, gives a great shout. He’s very excited -and relieved. He’s speaking—listen, look, I -mean.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Flick</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -WHY IT’S ONLY THE SHERIFF’S BOYS<br /> -HAVING A GAME WITH US! -</p> - -<p>The others do not agree with him. They point -rudely at him, and curse him for a fool. But he -only smiles and says through his smile:</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Click</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -SURE—IT’S THE SHERIFF RIGHT<br /> -ENOUGH. I SEEN HIS LIL’ BUTTON.<br /> -HIS DEPUTY’S WITH HIM.<br /> -I DONE SEE HIS BUTTON, TOO. -</p> - -<p>They rush to the eyeholes again. There’s no -doubt this time. They throw up their hats and -cheer. They are beside themselves. They even -go so far as to pull up the train. The passengers -crowd to the windows. At first they are alarmed. -They shrink back. They mutter among themselves. -<span class="smcap">Click</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -IT’S A HOLD-UP. -</p> -<p class="center"> -BUSH-RANGERS. -</p> - -<p>and so on. But the engineer puts all that right.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> -He descends royally from the footplate and walks -along the train reassuring them. <span class="smcap">Flick</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -IT’S ALL RIGHT, LADIES AND GENTS.<br /> -IT’S ONLY THE SHERIFF OF THE<br /> -DOMINION COME TO PAY US A SURPRISE<br /> -VISIT. -</p> - -<p>What a joke! How they laugh! And cheer! -They crowd to the window. They swarm out on -to the line. They offer expensive drinks to the -engineer and his collaborators, which are -accepted. They pass round the hat.</p> - -<p>And then the sheriff approaches. He asks them -to line up. They are delighted. Another priceless -joke. Ha! Ha! Ha! What a wit the man has, -to be sure! He suggests they should produce -their valuables. Only too delighted. Their stocks -and shares, jewellery—everything, in fact, they -have with them.</p> - -<p class="center"> -THEY’RE “OF NO VALUE” TO YOU<br /> -NOW. -</p> - -<p>Ha! Ha! Ha! They’re doubled up with -laughter. They’re holding their sides. What a -funny man. What a very fun——Eh? He’s -speaking again.</p> - -<p class="center"> -GET A MOVE ON IF YOU DON’T WANT<br /> -A DOSE OF LEAD! -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span></p> - -<p>Oh, of course, very subtle. It’s all part of the -joke. He’s acting so well, isn’t he?</p> - -<p>What’s he doing? He’s putting all their -valuables into a bag. He’s taking them away. -He’s a——He’s a <em>robber</em>! Oh, no! Oh, not -that! But he <em>is</em>. Old men are weeping over -the loss of their life’s savings. Old women——Oh, -this isn’t funny at all!</p> - -<p>A handsome young woman is speaking to him. -She’s pleading, she’s on her knees.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Click</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -IF YOU TAKE THAT IT MEANS I<br /> -CAN’T GET MARRIED. WE WERE<br /> -GOING TO START HOUSEKEEPING<br /> -ON MY FIRST PREFERENCE STOCK. -</p> - -<p>She’s broken down. He’s laughing, the brute! -He’s roaring with laughter. So’s his fellow -desperado.</p> - -<p>Who’s this? What a funny fat man! Oh, -it’s going to end happily after all. He’s a -policeman, I suppose, but his hat looks a bit -queer. Oh, an American hat—I see. He’s -very angry with the brigands—the sheriffs, -I mean. He’s speaking.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Click</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -THIS OUTFIT’S WORTH AT PAR<br /> -£37,073,492. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Flick</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -“THIS WOULD MAKE MY APPRAISEMENT<br /> -OF ALL THE STOCK, THE VALUE<br /> -OF WHICH IS HERE IN ISSUE, NOT<br /> -LESS THAN $48,000,000.” -</p> - -<p>Oh, it’s too bad! They’re laughing at him, -too.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Plick</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -GET AWAY HOME, YOU FAT OLD GUY,<br /> -BACK TO THE STATES WHERE YOU<br /> -BELONG.<br /> -</p> - -<p>He’s very angry indeed. He’s turning away -in high dudgeon. He makes a last appeal.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Flick</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -BUT AIN’T YOU THE SHERIFF?<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Blick</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -WHY, YES; BUT WHAT’S THAT GOT -TO DO WITH IT? -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Snick</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -WELL, I MEAN TO SAY——<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Click</span>:</p> - -<p class="center"> -A MAN’S GOTTER LIVE, AIN’T HE,<br /> -EVEN IF HE IS A SHERIFF? AND<br /> -THEY’RE ONLY DURNED ENGLISH<br /> -GUYS, ANYWAY.<br /> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="THE_PERSONAL_COLUMN">THE PERSONAL COLUMN</h3> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> big events of the world, the things -so remote from most of us, float serenely -down the midstream of the day’s news, -little heeded, I confess, by me; but the flotsam -of life is brought to one’s very feet by the undercurrents -and eddies of the Personal Column.</p> - -<p>The news headings of one’s morning paper -deal with subjects whole worlds away from one’s -own humble existence. The movements of -Marshal Foch; the Japanese Earthquake; the -Recognition of Russia. Even (long since) when -the “Date of the Peace Celebrations” was -announced, it was a comparatively lifeless statement. -To vitalise it, to humanise it, one had -to go to the neighbourhood of the Personal -Column. Thus:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Champagne. Approaching Peace Celebrations.</span> -Advertiser representing principals -holding stocks of the best known brands -of Champagne, etc., etc.... Apply to -‘Benefactor.’”</p> -</div> - -<p>Here at last we were in the heart of things. -“Stocks of the best known brands of champagne.” -This unlocked the tongue, set speculation working. -What brands? What is your favourite -brand? One reviewed a pageant of sparkling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> -names such as Ayala, Irroy, Heidsieck, Mumm, -Moet, Pommery, Roederer and the Widow, the -dainty Clicquot.... And then arose the -question what to do on Peace Night—Jazz? -Theatre? Opera? Or should it be a quiet -dinner (preferably at home) with Jones, who -shared one’s last Xmas in the Salient, and Smith -the Silent, who never let one down, and Robinson?... -I seem to remember that I wrote -to “Benefactor.”</p> - -<p>Actually “Benefactor” was not, so to speak, a -Member of the Personal Column, though he -dwelt very near to it. His announcement -abutted on a poignant appeal for a “<span class="smcap">Suitable -Place to Stop</span>” from a young minesweeping -lieutenant who, having exhausted his patience in -ransacking London for a bed, had lit upon the -discovery that a large part of the hotel accommodation -in this city was still in the clutches -of Sir Alfred Mond and his Merry Men; but it -was published (wrongly, of course) under the -heading: “Business Opportunities.” What -creature would sink so low as to make a business -opportunity out of the sale of that golden drink, -of those “best brands of Champagne”—and in -the Peace season, too? Perish the thought! -To the Personal Column let “Benefactor” be -admitted.</p> - -<p>The Personal Column is the quintessence of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> -journalism, an inexhaustible lucky-bag of strange -communications and curious announcements. -Do you want a furnished caravan? Napoleon -relics? Are you a philatelist? Would you -like a summer outing in Kew Gardens? Have -you a haunted house? These, after all, are -things that touch one’s daily life. Marshal Foch -might go to the Sandwich Islands, and the -philatelist and I would wish him God-speed, and -think of it no more; but a haunted house (even -if it be only haunted by mice) brings one “up -against it!” Are you bored with your life? -The Personal Column is a constant provocation -to plunge into the whirlpool of the unknown. -Thus at random: An officer, aged 20, of cheerful -artistic and musical tastes, wishes to correspond -with somebody with a view to “real friendship.” -There’s your chance. And what dark story, -think you, is concealed behind the following:</p> - -<p>“The Black Cat is watching: green eyes. -S?”</p> - -<p>What tale of a temptation spurned lurks in:</p> - -<p>“Scalo: I may be poor but I love truth far -better than gold—Misk?”</p> - -<p>Under the influence of what jealous pangs -came this to be penned:</p> - -<p>“Ralph—Who is BABS—Remember Olga?” -(The following, in a happier vein, tells presumably -of a lovers’ quarrel made up:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span></p> - -<p>“Whitewings. Darling you know really you -are the only thing on earth I love. Snowdrop.”)</p> - -<p>The big news columns tell us what our intellectuals -consider it good for us to know, in -the manner in which they consider it good for -us to be told. The Ruhr Occupation, denounced -by Mr. Garvin, upheld by Lord Rothermere—The -Betrayal of the Country to Labour (in the -Gospel according to Mr. Churchill)—The -League of Nations—Bootlegging and Prohibition. -But the Personal Column—ah!—the -Personal Column gives us a peep into the throbbing -lives of our neighbours; we become partakers -in the bliss of Whitewings and Snowdrop, -we share “S’s” apprehension of the Black Cat, -and our hearts go out to Misk and Olga—poor -forgotten Olga. Here are no world politics -dished up by statesmen <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">manqué</i>, or camouflaged -by great journalists, no subjects to be discussed -in catchwords and manufactured phrases, but -the myriad voices, from the streets around, crying -out at the impulse of the eternal verities.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="SOCIETY_SIDESHOWS">SOCIETY SIDESHOWS</h3> -</div> - -<p class="ph p110"><span class="smcap">Extracted from the Private Diary of the -Hon. “Toothy” Badger</span></p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Dined</span> at the House last night. Ridiculous -party given by “Bulgy” Gobblespoon -to celebrate his wife’s election: the first -husband and wife to sit together. To everyone’s -dismay, it proved that she had only scraped in by -the Prohibitionist vote, to win which she had to -pledge herself never to allow any form of alcohol -on any table at which she sat. Very restrictive -of her dining out, I should imagine, and utterly -destructive of her own dinners, which used to be -rather fun. Impossible to imagine the gloom of -that gathering! Even old Bitters, who was -wheedled off the Front Bench to come down and -say something amusing, was quite unable to -sparkle on Schweppes’ ginger ale. Hurried away -with little “Squeaky” Paddington (old Ponto’s -new wife) to sample a drink and a spot of foot -shuffling at Sheep’s. Very stuffy and a lot of -ghastly people.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Somebody, turning out their lumber-room, has -presented a whole shoot of pictures to the -National Gallery; so I went to see who was -looking at them. What that place exists for I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> -can never understand. Hardly anyone there -except a herd of frowsy old women, with paint-boxes, -who took jolly good care that nobody -should come within a mile of anything worth -looking at. One rather jolly girl—but very -severe. The rest awful. A couple of anxious-looking -people walking up and down, looking -intense and making speeches about Ghirlandajo -or Cimabue to an audience of yokels that doesn’t -know either from cream cheese; and the remainder -of London seems to use the portico as a -convenient meeting-place, and never goes inside -at all.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Broke my rule against large parties last night in -order to go and stare at the women Members of -Parliament, who allowed themselves to be shown -off by old Lady Paramount Nectar at Ambrosia -House. Never again. The rooms are big enough -Heaven knows; but they seemed to have invited -everyone in London, who had a dress-suit. Lady -Biltong, whose figure needs to be put under -restraint, was carried out fainting. Poor Bottisford -had two ribs stove in going up the staircase -and didn’t know it till he got home—kept murmuring -that he must have got a touch of pleurisy -in the fog. And old Sir William Bylge trod on a -lady’s train and brought it clean away from the -gathers (whatever those may be). Needless to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> -say, it proved to be a Royalty, but only a minor -one. Never saw so many foreign potentates and -creatures gathered together in my life before: -the Duca di Corona Largo, Count Papryka da -Chili, the Prince and Princess of Asta Mañana, a -woman from New York, the Gizzawd of Abbyssinia, -old Ramon Allones, looking younger than -ever, and heaps of others. Nothing to eat, of -course, and sickly sherbetty stuff masquerading as -champagne. Hurried away to Stag’s with George -Mossop to wash the taste out of our mouths. If -old Paramount Nectar had lived, how different -that supper would have been! As it is, if they -took a bottle out of his cellar now, and poured it -on his tomb, I believe he’d rise from the dead in -very shame. Seems a bit too low to accept old -Lady P.’s hospitality, and then slang the food; -but, after all, he was my father’s cousin, and one -feels it reflects on one’s own palate that a relation -by marriage should give inferior wine.</p> - -<p>Country house parties nowadays are becoming -absurd. In the old days there was a lot to be -said for country house visits. Even quite recently -they could be profitably undertaken. But now! -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Nous avons changê tout cela.</i> The advent of a -Labour Government has put the final kybosh on -even the limited hospitality one enjoyed last -year. Three invitations this morning. One from -Ditchwater Abbey—a place I loathe; one from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> -Hugo Hamstringer, the fellow that made a -fortune out of glue in the war, bought everything, -lost the whole boiling in multiple eggshops -during the slump, and is now trying to -make two ends meet in that awful barrack of a -place, Dundahead Hall, that he took over from -“Wacker” with a block of dud oil shares in payment -for his “calls” in Hamstringer, Limited, -before the Company went bust—(nothing -would induce me to go near <em>him</em>); and one from -dear little Phyllis Biddiker, whose husband has -lost everything in Southern Ireland, and who is -scraping along somehow by letting off apartments -at the Weir House (their place in Berkshire) -to wealthy Colonials over here for the -British Empire Exhibition. None asked me for -more than a week-end. All say “Bring your own -whisky if you want any.” Phyllis has had a -present of Australian Burgundy from one of her -lodgers, and offers to share it. I shall stay at home.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Because my brother Henry chose to marry, why -should his almost-a-flapper daughter be motted -on me to cart about London? A jade, a sly -boots and a minx, she makes my life a burden. -She makes me give her expensive meals, which I -rather like; but I draw the line at being a decoy -duck. Last night, having bled me of my entire<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> -income at Mah Jongg—a game I shall never hope -to learn—she demanded to be taken to an unintelligibly -highbrow play, knowing, I suppose, -that, after the agony of listening to it, I should be -as wax in her hands. Then she led me by easy -stages to Sheep’s Club, by pretending she wanted -to dance with me. There (by the merest accident, -of course) we found young Geoffrey -Bannister, the one young man in London I was -cautioned against allowing her to meet—as if an -uncle has any control whatever—and the whole -plot stood revealed. Before I could contort my -features into a frown, they were dancing in the -middle of the room, where they seemed to spend -the remainder of the evening. I was allowed to -give them supper; they allowed me to take them -away at two a.m. They were almost too good to -be true till we got home—driving back in -Geoffrey’s car; and then they suddenly insisted -on starting off to “be in at the death” at the -Hunt Ball at Hillsbury, looking in at Bridget -Hanover’s dance in Brook Street on the way. -Told them to go to the Hunt Ball at another place -beginning with the same initial, sent Geoffrey -home, and packed her off to bed. No more nieces -for me.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They call them “winter sports.” You cram -yourself, with everybody you dislike most, into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> -the same train; stamp round the decks of the boat -in a blizzard, swearing and trying to keep warm; -ruin your digestion with the beastly food in the -Train de Luxe; scrimmage with thirty other -people for the sleeping berth you all booked six -months before; turn out at the frontier to be -browbeaten by hordes of <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">douaniers</i>; and arrive -in the early morning feeling and looking like the -Ancient Mariner, and discover that your rooms -at the hotel have been swiped by somebody else. -You turn out the manager, who shrugs his -shoulders, and, after a fearful row, condescends to -offer you sleeping room in an attic, on terms for -which you could buy a large mansion in most -countries. But your spirit is broken, and, rather -than face the journey back, you accept with -resignation, and crawl into the hovel allotted to -you. You unpack your traps, and find that one -of your skates is missing, or else that the straps -have disappeared from your <em>skis</em>. But you are -desperate now; you bind them on your feet with -string, and rush out into the snow. You are immediately -knocked down by some confounded -beginner who has lost control and is flying down -the hill at the rate of knots. You stagger to your -feet gasping, with snow down your neck and both -your <em>skis</em> adrift. While you are readjusting -them, a bob-sleigh whizzes into you, sweeps you -off your feet on top of its crew, and obligingly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> -overturns down an embankment. The occupants -of the sleigh are people you’ve been trying to -avoid for years; and, instead of cursing you for -being in the way, they fall on your neck and invite -you to dinner. You are in such pain from broken -arms and legs, that you can’t think of an excuse, -so you have to accept. After dinner they rob -you at bridge, and, as a crowning blow, the man of -the party borrows money from you. At last you -break away, hurry back—and find the interesting -girl you were hoping to talk to, deeply -engaged with some wretched subaltern. And then -the Lord Chancellor or some other fearful bore -insists on talking about home politics—the one -thing you were dying to forget. You mutter -excuses and stumble off to turn in—still nursing -your wounds. Some idiot has left the window -open, and there are icicles hanging from the ceiling -and a pile of snow in the middle of your bed. Next -day you repeat the performance, which goes on for -a fortnight at least. Winter “sports”! It must -refer to the people, and not to the pastimes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp51" id="and_obligingly" style="max-width: 98.125em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/and_obligingly.jpg" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"><p>“And obligingly overturns down an embankment.”</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="LATTER-DAY_DRAMAS">LATTER-DAY DRAMAS</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span></p> -<h3 class="nobreak mb0" id="MORALITY">MORALITY</h3> -</div> - -<p class="ph">(<span class="italic">In the manner of John Galsworthy.</span>)</p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="ACT_I">ACT I</h4> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>: <span class="italic">The rectory at Swilberry. The rector, -the Rev. Hardy Heavyweight, is going through -the accounts of the village cricket club with -Diggers, his sexton and factotum.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span> (<span class="italic">adding up as he goes along</span>): And three -and sixpence is four pound two and a penny -’a’penny, and five shillin’ is four seven one a -half; and there’s that cheque from Mr. -Selvidge.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">comparing each item in the bank -book</span>): That’s not entered here.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span>: Paid in later, per’aps. The cheque——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span>: Yes—it will be in the pocket of -the book. (<span class="italic">He gropes for it.</span>) There seem -to be a lot of papers here. (<span class="italic">He pulls them -out.</span>) Why, good heavens!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span>: What’s matter, Sir?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">in a changed voice that belies his -words</span>): Nothing, Diggers, nothing.... -Here’s the cheque (<span class="italic">he holds it up</span>).... Who -had charge of this book?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span> (<span class="italic">mildly surprised</span>): Miss Agatha, Sir.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">mechanically—he is thinking hard -of something else</span>): You’ve never seemed to -get accustomed to calling her Mrs. Foxglove, -Diggers.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span> (<span class="italic">heartily</span>): No, Sir, that I ’aven’t. An’ -when them ’orrible divorce proceedings is -finished an’ she’s quit o’ that thing of a -’usband, she <em>will</em> be Miss Agatha again, to all -intents an’ purposes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">pained</span>): I think we mustn’t talk -about that, Diggers. The club accounts -are all right?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span> (<span class="italic">disappointed</span>): Yes, Sir.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span>: Thank you for helping me. -Would you ask Mrs. Foxglove to come?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span>: Miss Agatha, Sir? Certainly. (<span class="italic">He -goes. The rector leans back in his chair, with -his face drawn with anxiety. He toys with -the papers he has abstracted from the pocket -of the bank book. He shakes his head sadly -as he reads. Suddenly Agatha Foxglove, a -charming and vital creature, bursts in on him.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span>: Hello, papa—what’s up?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">looking away from her</span>): Agatha, -dear, these letters—(<span class="italic">he holds them up</span>)—these -letters from a man called Jim, they’re yours, -are they?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span> (<span class="italic">taken aback</span>): Ye—yes. I....</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span>: (<span class="italic">appealingly</span>): I’m sure there’s -an explanation, dear. Won’t you tell me?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span> (<span class="italic">laughing uneasily</span>): Well, er, I suppose ... -where did you find them? (<span class="italic">He silently -points to the book.</span>) I don’t know. I suppose -I must have put them there accidentally, -from my table.... It comes of keeping -those horrible accounts for you.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">sadly</span>): But the <em>contents</em>, Agatha, -dear.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span> (<span class="italic">sharply</span>): You’ve read them?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span>: I was unable to help reading -them. They were lying open among the -cheques. (<span class="italic">Tenderly</span>): Won’t you explain?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span> (<span class="italic">with the modern mixture of frankness and -impatience</span>): Of course, there’s an explanation, -papa. You surely don’t suppose that, -with a drunken imbecile for a husband, I -could do entirely without sympathy and -affection?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">apprehensively</span>): Then—you were—unfaithful?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span> (<span class="italic">swiftly</span>): But we’re going to be married, -as soon as the decree is made absolute.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">pitifully</span>): I’m sure, my dear, -that that was your intention; but, as a -clergyman——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span> (<span class="italic">anxious</span>): You won’t tell anyone——?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span>: My child, can’t you see? can’t -you feel for me? As a clergyman I believe—I -am bound to believe—that marriage is an -irrevocable tie. Divorce on proper grounds -I have to recognise, as a servant of the State; -but when I see the procedure abused by -those who have forfeited their right to -invoke it, how can I, as a conscientious -minister of God—how can I stand aside -because the culprit is my own adopted -daughter and ward? I am morally bound -to inform the King’s Proctor.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span>: But father—father. Oh, for God’s -sake—(<span class="italic">she becomes incoherent.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span>: Ah, my child, my child. Morality -demands—(<span class="italic">His voice breaks. There is a -terrible pause. He goes to the bookshelf.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span> (<span class="italic">agonised</span>): Oh—what are you doing?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">in a dead, mirthless voice</span>): Looking -out my train to London.</p> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="smcap">The Curtain Falls.</span><br /> -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h4 class="nobreak" id="ACT_II">ACT II</h4> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>: <span class="italic">The Divorce Court.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Whassit</span> (<span class="italic">Agatha’s Counsel</span>):—a temptation -which, please God, I shall never encounter -myself. And further——</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Judge</span> (<span class="italic">testily</span>): Mr. Whassit, is it necessary -to prolong this?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Whassit</span> (<span class="italic">firmly</span>): My Lord, I have a duty -to my client, and——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Judge</span>: Yes, yes, I know, Mr. Whassit. -Your conduct of the case has been very -proper; and, of course, if you wish to proceed, -I shall say no more. But you’ve not -traversed a single fact——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Whassit</span> (<span class="italic">sitting down at last</span>): I will leave -the matter in your Lordship’s hands.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Judge</span>: That is well.... This is an -application to make absolute a decree nisi -pronounced in October last. The King’s -Proctor has intervened, alleging misconduct -on the part of petitioner, such as would have -invalidated her plea; and he has amply and -abundantly proved his case. The application -therefore fails, and the petitioner will -pay the costs of the intervention.</p> - -<p>But that is not all. In the course of the -proceedings, which were defended, the cross-examination -of the petitioner was directed -towards establishing these very adulteries, -which have now been proved. She denied -them with vehemence, and went so far as to -comment, from the witness-box, upon the -propriety of counsel raising issues of the -kind. Now this is a serious matter. It is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> -one thing to make what I might call a formal -denial of adultery, in an undefended case, -though technically it might be perjury, and -I myself should view even that with gravity; -it is quite another thing in a defended case, -where the matter has definitely been put in -issue, to make a denial of the kind; and I -cannot see how the situation differs from -that of a plaintiff who comes before the court -seeking relief, let us say, on a Bill of Exchange, -and falsely denies an allegation of fraud, or -some other invalidating factor. In both -cases there may result a serious miscarriage -of justice, which at least cannot be so in an -undefended divorce suit, where it is to be -imagined that the respondent is indifferent -to the consequences.</p> - -<p>(<span class="italic">Addressing Agatha at the solicitor’s table</span>): -It has been urged most eloquently by your -counsel that you had much to endure, and -many temptations to the course upon which -you ultimately embarked with so much -recklessness. That may be so; or, again, -it may not. It might be taken into account -by another court, as a mitigating circumstance. -But the Law, which I am here to -administer, gives me, as I see it, no choice. -Public morality must be vindicated; and a -flagrant perjury of a kind that has become<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> -all too prevalent of late, is more than I can -pass unchallenged. The papers in this -case will therefore be forwarded to the -Director of Public Prosecutions.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span> (<span class="italic">hysterically</span>): My Lord. We—I—Oh -God——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Usher</span> (<span class="italic">sternly</span>): Silence.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span> (<span class="italic">patting her hand</span>): There, there, Miss -Agatha. Don’t take on.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">on the other side</span>): My dear—don’t -let’s have a scene.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Her Solicitor</span> (<span class="italic">kindly</span>): Hush! You mustn’t -interrupt his Lordship, you know.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span> (<span class="italic">wildly</span>): But if I don’t, they’ll prosecute -me!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Usher</span> (<span class="italic">to the Serjeant of Police</span>): Get ’er -solicitor to take ’er quietly outside. (<span class="italic">The -Serjeant complies.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span> (<span class="italic">following and moaning as he goes</span>): Why -did you go an’ do it, Mr. ’Eavyweight, Sir? -(<span class="italic">Wringing his hands more than ever</span>): Oh, -Miss Agatha, Miss Agatha.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">trying hard to be brave</span>): Hush, -Diggers, be a man. Bear up. Courage.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span> (<span class="italic">bursting into tears</span>): Oh, Mr. ’Eavyweight, -Sir, ’ow could you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">who has only done his duty</span>): You -don’t understand, my poor fellow....<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> -Morality demands——(<span class="italic">His voice breaks. -They vanish in the wake of the Serjeant.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Registrar</span> (<span class="italic">calling the next case</span>): Boggs -versus Boggs and Boggs, Boggs intervening. -(<span class="italic">He hands up a bundle of papers to the judge.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">A Counsel</span> (<span class="italic">rising</span>): This is an application for -administration <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">de bonis non</i>, my Lord. I -understand——</p> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="smcap">The Curtain Falls.</span><br /> -</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h4 class="nobreak" id="ACT_III">ACT III</h4> -</div> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>: <span class="italic">A prison. Agatha in her cell. The doors -are flung open and the visiting justices troop in, -accompanied by the Governor of the prison, the -doctor, the chaplain, warders, and our old -friend Diggers, the sexton.</span></p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">First Visiting Justice</span>: Well, what’s this one?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Governor</span> (<span class="italic">curtly</span>): Perjury. Five years’ -penal servitude. Last Assizes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Woman Superintendent</span>: Sulky little fiend. -Won’t speak; and throws her food at the -warders.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Second Visiting Justice</span> (<span class="italic">addressing Agatha</span>): -Come, come, my girl, you’re doing yourself -no good by this kind of thing. (<span class="italic">Addressing -the Governor</span>): Can’t your doctor do anything—or -the chaplain?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Doctor</span> (<span class="italic">in a dry staccato voice</span>): She’s -perfectly healthy—not losing weight—organs -in good condition. I can’t do more than -keep her fit.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">First Justice</span>: Well, the chaplain, then?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Chaplain</span>: She’s very hard and unrepentant.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Second Justice</span>: Can’t you make her repent?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Chaplain</span> (<span class="italic">decidedly</span>): No. Nor can anyone -else.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Both Justices</span> (<span class="italic">uneasily</span>): I see. Yes. (<span class="italic">Addressing -the Governor</span>): Can nothing be -done?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Governor</span>: Nothing more. She’s under -constant supervision.... There’s a visitor -for her with our party; where is he?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span> (<span class="italic">coming forward</span>): Here, Sir?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Governor</span>: See if you can persuade her to -speak to you.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span> (<span class="italic">approaching her timidly</span>): Miss Agatha, -Miss Agatha ... won’t you speak to me, -old Diggers? (<span class="italic">She pays no attention.</span>) Miss -Agatha, I’ve brought you some cowslips from -the old glebe be’ind the church. (<span class="italic">Anxiously, -to the Governor</span>): May she ’ave them, Sir?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Governor</span> (<span class="italic">blowing his nose</span>): Of course. Of -course. (<span class="italic">Diggers produces a sorry mess of -yellow blossoms.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span>: They’re faded, but they’re from the -old ’ome.... Won’t you ’ave them, Miss? -(<span class="italic">She makes no sign. One of the justices -breaks down.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Woman Superintendent</span>: Now, dearie, -take the nice flowers. (<span class="italic">But Agatha pays no -attention.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Second Justice</span>: Dear, dear, how sad. -(<span class="italic">Making a final effort</span>): My poor young -woman, you mustn’t take it so to heart. -Your sentence, with good conduct remission, -which I presume you mean to earn—though -you won’t do so by throwing good food about—your -sentence is really quite trivial. (<span class="italic">She -suddenly turns her eyes on him, with a baleful -glare in them. He stumbles over his words and -dries up</span>): Yes, er, exactly.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The First Justice</span> (<span class="italic">who is bored</span>): Well, let’s be -getting on. (<span class="italic">They troop out.</span>) It’s a sad -case; but of course, Morality—(<span class="italic">his voice -dies away</span>.)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span> (<span class="italic">when they have gone</span>): Stupid, sentimental -humbugs! (<span class="italic">Viciously</span>): Slugs, -worms, uncomprehending <span class="allsmcap">BEASTS</span>! (<span class="italic">In impotent -fury she whirls round the cell like a -dervish, finally throwing herself panting on -her mattress.</span>) Morality, indeed! (<span class="italic">She bites -a large piece out of the floor.</span>)</p> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="smcap">The Curtain Falls.</span><br /> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span></p> - -<h4 class="nobreak" id="ACT_IV">ACT IV</h4> -</div> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>: <span class="italic">The streets of London (many years later). -Heavyweight and Diggers walk slowly along, -searching the faces of the passers-by. Suddenly -Heavyweight stops in front of a thin, emaciated -woman.</span></p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span>: God! It’s you, Agatha, at last.... -Have you come to this?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span> (<span class="italic">unsteadily</span>): Don’t interfere with me. -I’m looking after myself. What I do is my -affair.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span> (<span class="italic">incoherently</span>): Oh, Miss Agatha, Miss -Agatha. (<span class="italic">He strokes her hand.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">tenderly</span>): My dear. You’re -worn out, thin, hungry. Wait. We’ll buy -some food and wine and take you back. -Come, Diggers. (<span class="italic">They enter a shop. She -leans against a lamp-post. A detective appears -suddenly beside her.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Detective</span> (<span class="italic">addressing her sharply</span>): Solicitin’, -you was.... You come along o’ me.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span> (<span class="italic">furiously</span>): I won’t, I won’t! It’s a lie.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Detective</span>: Now, then, be civil.... Ticket -o’ leave, ain’t you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Agatha</span>: Oh, what’s that to do with you? I’ve -served my time. You’ve no further claim -on me.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Detective</span> (<span class="italic">grimly</span>): ’Aven’t we? You just -come along. (<span class="italic">He takes her arm. Maddened, -she deals him a vicious backhander in the -mouth and escapes from his grasp, fleeing along -the pavement.</span>) That won’t do you no good, -my girl. (<span class="italic">He starts in pursuit. Heavyweight -reappears, followed by the faithful -Diggers.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">anxiously</span>): Agatha, Agatha.... -My God! (<span class="italic">Realising what has happened, he -rushes in pursuit.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span>: Oh, Miss Agatha, Miss Agatha. -(<span class="italic">He walks unsteadily after them, wringing his -hands. There is a hoarse shout, off, then a -horrible crash and a sharp, sickening scream. -The detective and Heavyweight reappear, -carrying a lifeless form.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Diggers</span> (<span class="italic">in an agony</span>): What’s happened? Oh, -what’s happened to Miss Agatha?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Detective</span> (<span class="italic">huskily</span>): Run over. (<span class="italic">Addressing -Heavyweight</span>): Not my fault, Sir. I -couldn’t let ’er ’op it like that.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Heavyweight</span> (<span class="italic">brokenly</span>): My poor fellow, I -know. You only did your duty.... The -social code must be upheld. Morality demands——(<span class="italic">His -voice breaks for the last time, -and the curtain descends on his tears.</span>)</p> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="smcap">The End of the Play.</span><br /> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="ETERNITY_AND_POST-ETERNITY">ETERNITY AND POST-ETERNITY</h3> -</div> - -<p class="ph">(<span class="italic">An endless Tone-Drama in the Shavian manner.</span>)</p> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="italic">Through the skylight of the subterranean dwelling of</span> -<span class="smcap">Colonel Lazyboy</span> (R.A.S.C., T.D.), <span class="italic">in the -Chiltern Hills, an apparently endless procession -of clouds may be seen racing across a Mediterranean-blue -sky, a sure sign that rain will fall -later. We may omit a number of stage -directions about the history of the</span> <span class="smcap">Lazyboy</span> -<span class="italic">family, the detailed furnishing of the cavern, -the mental processes of the</span> <span class="smcap">Colonel</span> <span class="italic">himself, and -a stupendous preface on “Midwifery and the -Modern Play”—it being sufficient to state -that, although a spacious mansion stands in the -grounds hard by, it is entirely given over to -the servants, the family preferring to share -the cave life of the</span> <span class="smcap">Colonel</span>, <span class="italic">who, since he -commanded a Chinese Labour Battalion during -the second battle of the Somme, has been quite -unable to reaccustom himself to living in a -house, preferring, as he says, the harder and -more natural life of the dug-out.</span></p> - -<p><span class="italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Colonel</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs. Lazyboy</span> (<span class="italic">a faded, bored -woman</span>), <span class="smcap">Mercia</span>, <span class="italic">their daughter, and</span> <span class="smcap">Harmodius -Hashovit</span>, <span class="italic">her husband, are at their -morning wrangle. In the middle of the row</span>, -<span class="smcap">Nurse Allsopp</span> <span class="italic">hurries in. Being</span> <span class="smcap">Mercia’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span></span> -<span class="italic">old nurse she is virtually mistress (and master) -of the house.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lazyboy</span>: Oh, dear! What is it now, -Nursey?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Nurse</span>: Oh, Im sure I beg pardon, Maam, but -heres Miss Mercias young man—(<span class="italic">suddenly -observing</span> <span class="smcap">Hashovit</span>)—Oh, Im sure I beg -pardon, sir, I didn’t see you. I meant to -say——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hashovit</span> (<span class="italic">heavily</span>): You meant that popinjay -Eustace Brill. You needn’t make a mystery -about it, Nurse. Everyone knows hes my -wifes young man.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Nurse</span> (<span class="italic">shocked</span>): Oh, that Im sure they dont, -sir.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Colonel</span> (<span class="italic">pained</span>): Harmodius, my dear -fellow, er——Allsopp, tell Mr. Brill were -not at home.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">bouncing up</span>): Certainly not! Send -Youstee away because Harmys jealous. Ill -go and let him in myself.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hashovit</span> (<span class="italic">sneering</span>): So that you can kiss him -in the passage without anyone seeing you——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">proudly</span>): Ill kiss him before you all. -(<span class="italic">A terrific crash and splintering of glass -heralds the arrival of</span> <span class="smcap">Eustace</span> <span class="italic">by the skylight. -He lands on the table, which collapses under -him; recovers his feet, and smiles genially -around.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp54" id="influence_of" style="max-width: 74.875em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/influence_of.jpg" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"><p>“The influence of that man Shaw.”</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">crooning</span>): Yousteeee!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Colonel</span> (<span class="italic">testily</span>): Confound it all, Brill, I -wish you wouldn’t tear the place to pieces -like that.... And you’ve shot a great fid -of glass into my eye. Damn the thing. -(<span class="italic">He gropes, and finally extracts it.</span>) There, -now itll bleed for the rest of the day!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span> (<span class="italic">surprised</span>): I thought you prided yourself -on keeping up active service conditions.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Colonel</span>: So I do.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span>: Then why make all this fuss about a -trifling wound? You ought to be grateful. -It adds a touch of reality to your life.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Colonel</span>: Id rather you left me to supply -the reality myself, Brill. However—(<span class="smcap">Mercia</span>, -<span class="italic">true to her threat, embraces</span> <span class="smcap">Eustace</span> <span class="italic">with -fervour</span>).... Now really, Mercia, upon -my soul.... (<span class="italic">He clicks his tongue with -vexation.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span> (<span class="italic">taken aback</span>): Mercia, dear. I know -you mean it awfully nicely. But really, in -public——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hashovit</span> (<span class="italic">glowering</span>): You see—you degrade -yourself to no purpose.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Colonel</span> (<span class="italic">warmly</span>): Degrade? Nonsense!... -I, of course, dont mean to -imply——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hashovit</span>: But damn it all, Colonel——</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">screaming</span>): Dont shout, Harmodius.</p> - -<p><span class="italic">The wrangle proceeds on the familiar Shavian lines, -the party being reinforced for no apparent -reason by the arrival of</span> <span class="smcap">Dan Bigby</span>, <span class="italic">an old -sea-captain, and</span> <span class="smcap">Michael John O’Sullivan</span>.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span> (<span class="italic">at long last</span>): Look here, Im getting -sick of this. Its all too much like a play by -Bernard Shaw.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hashovit</span> (<span class="italic">growling</span>): Everyone is at heart a -Shavian.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Colonel</span> (<span class="italic">hastily</span>): No, really, Harmodius.... -O’Sullivan, Brill, we cant have that——</p> - -<table> -<tr> -<td><span class="smcap">Eustace</span>: The truth about Shaw——</td> -<td>}</td> -<td class="tdm" rowspan="9">(<span class="italic">Spoken together.</span>)</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> </td> -<td> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td><span class="smcap">Hashovit</span>: My idea of Shaw——</td> -<td>}</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> </td> -<td> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td><span class="smcap">Michael John</span>: Sure, if you come -to talk about Shaw——</td> -<td>}</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> </td> -<td> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lazyboy</span>: Hes quite right. The -influence of that man Shaw——</td> -<td>}</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> </td> -<td> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td><span class="smcap">Captain Dan</span>: Who was Shaw, anyway?</td> -<td>}</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Colonel</span> (<span class="italic">in his parade voice</span>): Silence. -Youre on parade. Behave accordingly.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Captain Dan</span>: Avast there. Belay.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">stamping</span>): I wont belay. I object——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span>: But whats this to do with Shaw? -And whats the use of objecting when cosmic -forces grip people by the throat? Ive no -wish whatever to do anything thats not <span class="allsmcap">A1</span> at -Lloyds and all that. But——</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hashovit</span>: Cosmic fiddlesticks. Its lust, Brill, -and you know it. You and Mercia want to -misconduct yourselves, and its no good your -trying to draw a red herring of formulas and -psycho-analytic bosh across the track. It -wont wash. In my young days——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">icily</span>): I dont think were greatly -interested in your young days, Harmodius.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hashovit</span>: Be quiet, Mercia. I <em class="gesperrt">will</em> speak my -mind, so youd better make up your minds to -listen. In my young days if a man and a -girl wanted to behave improperly they just -did so and said no more about it. But -youve no decency. Youre not content with -forbidden fruit, you go and flaunt your -liaison in the husband’s face, and make a -parade of it before all his and your friends. -I wonder you dont advertise it in the papers. -Upon my soul, its what were coming to——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span>: But——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hashovit</span> (<span class="italic">yelling</span>): Dont you interrupt me, sir. -I dont care a swizzle stick about your stealing -my wifes affections. As a matter of fact, -she hasnt got any, as youll jolly soon discover -when the noveltys worn off——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span>: Oh, Harmy. (<span class="italic">She weeps.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hashovit</span>: I dont care if you take her to Brighton -or Nijni Novgorod—if youre such a blasted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> -fool as to spend so much money on her. I -dont care if you sit all day squeezing her -hand, looking into her eyes till you both -squint, pawing her about, and talking that -horrible sickly twaddle I couldn’t help overhearing -last night (<span class="italic">he shudders at the recollection</span>).... -But—(<span class="italic">rising to his feet</span>)—but -I will not have all your friends and my -friends whispering and talking about me as -though I were something to be pitied. -(<span class="italic">His voice rising to a scream.</span>) If you want -to know, I think Im just about the damn -luckiest fellow alive to have unloaded this -viperish, discontented, addle-headed, empty-hearted -baggage on the most crass and -pitiable fool Ive ever met—and if you want -to say any more—(<span class="italic">his poor, overstrained voice -cracks and dies away in his throat with a -mouse’s squeak; whereat he expresses his -feelings by tearing the cushions to pieces and -scattering the bits on the floor</span>.)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Colonel</span>: Come, come, my dear fellow—pull -yourself together.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">crisply</span>): What I like about Harmodius -is his obvious self-control.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hashovit</span> (<span class="italic">his eyes bulging; he speaks in a hoarse -whisper</span>): Shut up, you she-porcupine, you -hateful female skunk, you—(<span class="italic">his vocal chords -snap and his voice goes for ever</span>.)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span>: His manners are so perfect, too: and -hes so brave.... Cry-baby!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hashovit</span> (<span class="italic">inarticulately</span>): o o o o o o o b b—(<span class="italic">or -some similar noise. Blood gushes from his -mouth.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Nurse Allsopp</span>: There, my poddle-poodkins, -come with nursey-wursey. (<span class="italic">Addressing the -others sharply</span>): And if you want any lunch -go and wash your hands, all of you. (<span class="italic">She -leads <span class="smcap">Harmodius</span> out by the hand. The -others, except <span class="smcap">Eustace</span> and <span class="smcap">Mercia</span>, follow -her meekly</span>.)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span> (<span class="italic">uneasily</span>): You expect me to admire all -that, I suppose.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">fixing him with vampire eyes</span>): I expect -you to admire nothing except me.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span>: Admire you. I loathe you. I struggle -to escape from you. Youre like some awful -drug, the same odious intoxication, the same -irresistible fascination, and the same deadly -remorse when its all over. You steal away -my senses, and make me a slave.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span>: I make you a priest, not a slave.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span>: No, its slavery.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span>: Priesthood. High Priesthood to the -divine desire in all of us.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span> (<span class="italic">retreating</span>): Im afraid of that.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">snaring him with her eyes</span>): Afraid! -Afraid of worshipping love?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span>: Yes. Ive no vocation.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">dangerously</span>): Does that mean youve no -inclination?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span>: No. It means what it says.... -You talk about priesthood of love. You -seem to think no vocation is necessary, -though I suppose youd admit it in the case -of a priest of Buddhism. Religion is a -dedication of the spirit; Love, a dedication -of the heart. You cant dedicate your spirit -till its broken; nor can you your heart; -and hearts dont break as easily as crockery, -let me tell you. (<span class="italic">Espying <span class="smcap">Michael John</span> in -the passage</span>): O’Sullivan.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Michael John</span> (<span class="italic">entering and curling himself up -in the coal-scuttle</span>): Speak.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span>: Tell her how long a mans heart must -beat against that of a woman before it will -break.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Michael John</span>: Four years and ninety minutes -exactly. On the tick of the ninetieth -minute the heart cracks, and the imprisoned -soul passes from its bondage into the numbing -bliss of everlasting heartache——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Captain Dan</span> (<span class="italic">entering unobserved and taking up -the tale</span>): And in the fifth year he shall be -exalted above human understanding.... -In the dog watches and under the dog stars<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> -Ive looked upon the ways of mankind, and held -my hand from destroying them in sheer——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span>: Pity?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Captain Dan</span>: Pity. No! Indifference.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">fixing him with her eyes</span>): Danny, I -make you mine. The priesthood of love——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Captain Dan</span> (<span class="italic">uneasily</span>): Avast there.</p> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">triumphantly</span>): There’s no avasting -where Ill take you. (<span class="italic">Breaking into a chant</span>)</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza0"> - <div class="verse indent0">I go by the mountains and rivers,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I go by the seashore and fell.</div> - </div></div> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">Eustace</span> (<span class="italic">satirically</span>):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza0"> - <div class="verse indent0">While the thankless old mariner shivers</div> - </div></div> - - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">Michael John</span>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza0"> - <div class="verse indent0">And strives to break loose from her spell.</div> - </div></div> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">her voice rising to prophetic fervour</span>):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza0"> - <div class="verse indent0">But the child, still unborn, of my yearning,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Shall go in the van as our guide,</div> - </div></div> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">Captain Dan</span> (<span class="italic">chuckling feebly</span>):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza0"> - <div class="verse indent0">Down the pathway of shame to the burning,</div> - </div></div> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">laughing horribly</span>):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza0"> - <div class="verse indent0">When Im Daniel the Mariners Bride.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>(<span class="italic">She sweeps him into her arms and carries him -away shouting.</span>)</p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">disappearing</span>): Io. Io. Dionysos!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Captain Dan</span> (<span class="italic">in a high falsetto</span>): Let the skies -rain joy!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eustace</span> (<span class="italic">passionately</span>): How can you, Mercia, -how can you? (<span class="italic">He is seized by uncontrollable -weeping.</span>) Im crying, O’Sullivan——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Michael John</span>: Im wantin a cry meself. (<span class="italic">He -bursts into tears.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span><span class="italic">’s voice</span> (<span class="italic">a long way off</span>): But you must -let me come back and look after Harmodius’s -clothes——</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="center"> -<span class="italic">Many years elapse. They are still talking.</span><br /> -</p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Mercia</span> (<span class="italic">temporizing</span>): After all, if I leave Harmodius -for Eustace, or Eustace for Danny——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Colonel</span> (<span class="italic">who is deaf by now</span>): Whats that?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lazyboy</span> (<span class="italic">who is nearly as deaf and very -feeble</span>): Shes talking about the childrens -holidays.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Colonel</span>: He! He! He!</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="italic">A long time passes by.</span> -</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Fuzzlewhitt</span> (<span class="smcap">Mercias</span> <span class="italic">great grandson</span>): -After all, if she had deserted Harmodius -Hashovit——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Fuzzlewhitt</span> (<span class="italic">who is thoroughly tired of the -story</span>): Yes, Rejjy, I know....</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="center"> -<span class="italic">Centuries roll by.</span><br /> -</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Monsieur Chose</span>: Bernard Shaw says in his play -about Mercia and Harmodius Hashovit that -if Mrs. Lazyboy——</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="center"> -<span class="italic">Æons pass.</span><br /> -</p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span></p> - - - -<p><span class="smcap">Somebody</span>: Theres a storm coming. Its going -to cleanse the world. (<span class="italic">The sky darkens.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Somebody else</span>: It makes no difference. The -human brain will survive.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">A Third Person</span>: The human antheap will -continue to surge with meaningless movement.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">A Fourth</span>: The human voice will continue to -cry from nothing to nothing.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">A Fifth</span>: The human hand will continue to -write, and posterity will bury the writings.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">A Sixth</span>: And Shaw alone shall be assured of -immortality.</p> -</div> - -<p class="center"><span class="italic">The storm breaks with prodigious force. Eternity -arrives.</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">A Shining One</span>: Yes, the immortals are all in -their places. Dante and Cervantes had a -squabble last night, but theyve made it up.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Eternal</span>: Good.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Shining One</span>: Shakespeare has been giving -trouble, too. Hes jealous of Shaw.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Eternal</span> (<span class="italic">apprehensively</span>): Im not at all -easy in my own mind about Shaw.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="italic">Eternity passes.</span><br /> -</p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Shaw</span> (<span class="italic">on the steps of the eternal throne</span>): Im -really very sorry. Its no wish of mine, you -know.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Eternal</span> (<span class="italic">apologetically, and handing over the -crown and sceptre of Heaven</span>): Not at all. -Its a pleasure to make this trifling acknowledgment -of your genius.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The End of the Play.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span></span></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="THE_ENCHANTED_ISLAND">THE ENCHANTED ISLAND</h3> -</div> - -<p class="ph">(<span class="italic">A Fantasy in the manner of J. M. Barrie.</span>)</p> - - -<h4>I</h4> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> pink and white drawing-room of -Emily Jane’s house—or rather of the -house of Emily Jane’s father, Mister -Balbus, is so caressingly harmonious to the eye, -so surpassingly restful, so eminently a place of -happy people, that one knows instinctively it will -be visited by a tragedy. It is just a question of -time, and this gentle atmosphere will find itself -charged with the electricity of conflicting human -emotions; dear women’s hearts will break and -be laid aside in pot-pourri jars; strong sentimental -men will walk their sweet, melancholy way; and -we shall all go home the cleaner, mentally, for a -refreshing bath of tears. Emily Jane is not yet -in the drawing-room. The appropriate atmosphere -has first to be created, so that we may catch -our breath just a little as Miss Compton or Miss -Celli trips on. Emily Jane is really a very -ordinary kind of girl, plump, pleasant-looking, -and neither very clever nor specially athletic. -But to her mother she is still a tiny toddling mite -in a knitted woollen coat with pink ribbons, and -to Daddy, Mister Balbus, she is a resplendent -goddess.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span></p> - -<p>At last, after a preliminary conversation about -stamp-collecting, or some other harmless hobby, -between McVittie and Price, two old dullards -introduced to fill in the few awkward minutes -while the latecomers are clambering into their -stalls, Mister Balbus comes into the room. There -is nothing remarkable about Mister Balbus. In -the eyes of his wife he is an irresistibly lovable -plexus of male weaknesses; in the eyes of Emily -Jane he is closely related to the Almighty. -Actually he is nobody in particular, an architect -of sorts; but we are to see him through their -eyes, and so he appears in the play as a genial and -gigantic mixture of a demigod and a buffoon. -Mr. Aynesworth is appropriately selected to -represent him.</p> - -<p>“Good morning,” he says.</p> - -<p>“Good morning,” reply McVittie and Price, -delighted that any of the principal characters -should condescend to speak to them.</p> - -<p>“Where’s our little Emily Jane?” he asks, -tenderly.</p> - -<p>“Here, Daddy,” replies a sweet voice.</p> - -<p>“Where, my lovely one?”</p> - -<p>“In the chimney, Daddy”; and the dear -child clambers down and rushes into his arms -without even waiting to brush off the soot. -McVittie and Price make clucking noises of -approval and delight. This is typical of what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> -goes on in the Balbus household every day. How -can it be possible that anything except joy should -be in store for them? But ah——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span>: Where is Mammy, my treasure?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Emily Jane</span>: Waiting for Daddy darling, in his -study.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span>: Will my little heart ask her to -come?</p> - -<p>Emily Jane trips away so happily and obediently. -“Well, Price,” says Mr. Balbus, “I -must go and see how they’re getting on with the -wall.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Price</span>: Haven’t you finished it yet?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span>: I don’t think I ever shall. Balbus -was building a wall in the time of the Roman -Empire; and I suppose he’ll go on for the -rest of time.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">McVittie</span>: Which wall is it this time, Balbus?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span>: The Great Wall of China. They’ve -retained me to go and inspect it. I leave -to-morrow.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Balbus hurries in and embraces her husband -shamelessly. Emily Jane follows and embraces -them both. McVittie and Price, not to -be outdone, embrace each other in the corner.</p> - -<p>“You’re going to China, my husband?” asks -Mrs. Balbus, tenderly.</p> - -<p>“Yes, wife.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go with you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Emily Jane</span>: And I, Daddy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">McVittie & Price</span>: We will come too, old -friend.</p> - -<p>Mr. Balbus beams at them through his tears. -The audience beam at each other through theirs.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - -<h4>II</h4> - -<p>They have been wrecked.</p> - -<p>They are all on a deserted island which, from -the stunted shrubs and bleak outlook, is probably -in the neighbourhood of Tristan da Cunha. -McVittie and Price are pretending to be tremendously -brave and contented over a meal of -roasted berries.</p> - -<p>“These are really delicious,” says McVittie.</p> - -<p>“Capital,” says Price. “Have some more.”</p> - -<p>“No thanks. My doctor, you know. He -won’t let me enjoy myself.”</p> - -<p>“A glass of this delicious rock-water, then. -Most stimulating.”</p> - -<p>“No, my dear fellow. I’ve done magnificently. -Not another sup.”</p> - -<p>But it is really only pretend. The brave -fellows are concealing their anxiety for fear of -alarming Emily Jane and her mother who are -resting in the bivouac near by. Actually they -are full of apprehension.</p> - -<p>“Price,” says McVittie at last, leaning forward -mysteriously.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span></p> - -<p>“McVittie?” He leans forward too; their -long noses almost touch.</p> - -<p>“I’m uneasy.” A hoarse whisper.</p> - -<p>“So am I. Very.” A squeak of terror.</p> - -<p>“I’ve found out the name of this island, Price.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed?”</p> - -<p>McVittie sinks his voice even deeper.</p> - -<p>“It’s called—Umborroweeboo.”</p> - -<p>“Gracious. What ever does that mean?”</p> - -<p>“It means....” His voice becomes blood-curdling -in its intensity. “It means The-Island-that-wants-to-be-let-alone. -It’s a sinister spot, -Price. They say....”</p> - -<p>Darkness begins to close in rapidly. Price -shivers.</p> - -<p>“What do they say?”</p> - -<p>“They say it can vanish beneath the sea and -reappear in another place, after remaining submerged -for years.”</p> - -<p>“Good heavens.” Price is very uneasy. Emily -Jane appears from the bivouac and prostrates -herself on the ground.</p> - -<p>“I love you, dear little island,” she murmurs, -kissing the shore. “I would like to be married -to a beautiful island like you.”</p> - -<p>“I shall come to claim that promise one day,” -says a deep, rich voice from nowhere.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Emily Jane</span>: Did anyone speak?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">McVittie</span>: No one. I heard nothing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Price</span>: I thought—why, what’s that?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span> (<span class="italic">emerging from a hollow tree</span>): What’s -what?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Price</span>: That. There. Look.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The others</span>: Where?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Price</span>: There. Look. Now it’s <em>there</em>. Quick. -It’s moved again. (<span class="italic">A strain of unearthly music.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Everybody</span>: Hark. What’s that? (<span class="italic">Mrs. Balbus -crawls out of the bivouac on her hands and -knees.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Balbus</span> (<span class="italic">fondly</span>): John, you’ve left off your -comforter.... Why are you all in a ring? -You’ll have the fairies out if you stand in a -ring.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">McVittie</span> (<span class="italic">uneasily</span>): In a ring? I didn’t notice. -I think——(<span class="italic">He turns to move away but finds -himself rooted to the ground.</span>) Well, this is -most extraordinary.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Emily Jane</span>: What is extraordinary, dear Mr. -McVittie?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">McVittie</span>: I can’t move hand or foot.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span>: Good Lord. Nor can I.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Price</span>: Nor I.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Emily Jane</span>: I can a little. It’s getting very -difficult. Now <em>I</em> can’t either. (<span class="italic">The strain -of music is heard again.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Balbus</span>: Ugh! The horrid thing’s got hold -of <em>me</em> now. I can’t move either. John, -make them stop it at once.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span> (<span class="italic">feebly</span>): How can I, my dear? I’m -quite powerless.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Emily Jane</span> (<span class="italic">illusion suddenly stripped from her -eyes—for that is what happens under the spell -of this magic island</span>): Oh, Daddy, I thought -there was nothing you couldn’t do. And -now, now—you’re just like anybody -else.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Balbus</span> (<span class="italic">critically</span>): You certainly look -strange, John; not at all your usual self.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span> (<span class="italic">for the first time seeing his wife and -daughter as they really are</span>): Please be quiet -both of you and don’t talk about things you -don’t understand. McVittie, what are we -to do?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">McVittie</span> (<span class="italic">philosophically</span>): Wait for the island -to disappear, I suppose. (<span class="italic">The strain of music -sounds once more.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Price</span> (<span class="italic">excitedly</span>): There it is moving about again. -The thing I saw before.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Emily Jane</span>: It’s like a tiny, tiny man.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span>: I don’t fancy this at all.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Price</span>: It’s coming nearer. (<span class="italic">An elvish figure -appears dancing towards them. It is puffing -a stupendous pipe.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span> (<span class="italic">trying to be severe and failing signally</span>): -Who are you, please?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Figure</span> (<span class="italic">dancing more than ever</span>): Macconachie.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Emily Jane</span>: What do you mean by trespassing -on our island?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Macconachie</span>: I live here. It’s my home. You -are the trespassers. But you’re very welcome. -(<span class="italic">With goblin glee.</span>) I’ve been waiting -for you, for a long time.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span>: Waiting for us. Nonsense. You -don’t know who we are, even.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Macconachie</span>: Oh yes I do. I’ve been watching -you for a long time. Especially Emily -Jane. I want Emily Jane.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Balbus</span>: Want Emily Jane? The idea of -such a thing! Go away, Sir, at once.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Macconachie</span>: You think you’re her mother, I -suppose? (<span class="italic">Addressing Balbus</span>) And you -believe yourself to be her father?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span> (<span class="italic">with dignity</span>): I certainly do.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Macconachie</span>: But you’re not, you’re not. -She’s mine.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Balbus</span> (<span class="italic">indignantly</span>): Sir! John, don’t -listen to a word he says.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Macconachie</span>: You’re all mine. I want you all.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">McVittie</span> (<span class="italic">hoarsely</span>): Want us all? What for, -may I ask?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Macconachie</span>: To draw tears from simple -hearts. You’ll see.</p> - -<p>But they don’t understand at all, and look -blankly at one another, as he flits about like a will -o’ the wisp still puffing at his gigantic pipe.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - -<h4>III</h4> - -<p>The drawing-room again. They are all, except -Emily Jane, sitting there in disconsolate melancholy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span> (<span class="italic">with a deep sigh</span>): It’s for the best -of course.... But I miss her sadly.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">McVittie & Price</span>: It’s terrible, terrible. (<span class="italic">They -sigh</span>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Balbus</span>: I always felt there was something -unearthly about the child. (<span class="italic">She sighs very -deeply.</span>)</p> -</div> - -<p>There is a long pause. They are thinking of -their terrible experience when Macconachie flitted -over their heads like a sprite, and the solid island -sank beneath their feet, and they were left clinging -to a raft.</p> - -<p>“When the island began to submerge”—begins -Mr. Balbus, and then he checks himself -with a sob.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">McVittie</span> (<span class="italic">for the hundredth time</span>): I could have -sworn I had her in my arms on the raft. (<span class="italic">His -voice breaks.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Price</span>: You didn’t hear the Voice—</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Balbus</span>: Voice—what voice?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Price</span>: Something about claiming a promise. -And she gave a little cry of wonder. I heard -it. (<span class="italic">He walks gloomily over to the window.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span> (<span class="italic">suddenly enlightened</span>): That’s what -Macconachie meant, when he said “to draw<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> -tears from simple hearts.” I begin to understand....</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Price</span> (<span class="italic">at the window</span>): How very curious.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Balbus</span>: My curtains? They are certainly -not.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Price</span> (<span class="italic">in choking tones</span>): Look at the lake—it’s -drying up, or something.</p> - -<p>They all rush to the window. An amazing -thing is in progress. The bottom of the lake -seems to be rising. Stunted shrubs are pushing -themselves above the water.</p> - -<p>“My gracious powers, it’s the island,” cries Mr. -Balbus.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Price</span> (<span class="italic">quoting McVittie’s long-forgotten remark</span>): -They say it can vanish beneath the sea, and -reappear in another place after remaining -submerged for years.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">McVittie</span>: There’s somebody moving on it. -Look. Among the trees.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span>: It’s Macconachie. (<span class="italic">He hails the -island. Macconachie comes ashore, and flits up -to the house</span>.)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span> (<span class="italic">in a trembling voice</span>): Where is she, -Sir? Tell us where she is?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Macconachie</span>: Emily Jane? She’s touring in -America. Making a fortune.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span>: But will she come back, Sir?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Macconachie</span>: If you need her sufficiently, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> -wish for her often enough, and believe with -strength, she will assuredly come back.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Balbus</span>: But why should she have been -taken from us, Sir? We loved her, cared for -her. She was happy with us.</p> - -<p>“To carry my message to the hearts of men,” -replies Macconachie, with a wistful smile. “I -may need any of you in the future and then——” -He pauses. “But till then farewell.” And he -flits through the window; and the island submerges -again. But the others sit in rapt silence, -for they have seen beyond the veil.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="PRESIDENT_WILSON">PRESIDENT WILSON</h3> -</div> - -<p class="ph">(<span class="italic">A Chronicle in the manner of John Drinkwater.</span>)</p> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - - -<div class="justify"> -<h4 class="inline"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span></h4> -<p class="inline">—<span class="italic">The President’s Chamber in the White -House, Autumn, 1918.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Woodrow Wilson</span>, <span class="italic">lean, single-purposed, masterful, -is signing State documents with inflexible pen</span>. -<span class="smcap">Joseph Tumulty</span>, <span class="italic">a chubby little man, is -leaning affectionately on the back of the President’s -chair, following the movements of his pen -with dog-like veneration. The President, still -writing, breaks the silence without looking up.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: Tumulty.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tumulty</span>: Yes, Governor.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: I wouldn’t have you think I’m insensible -to the merits of your proposals—but -I can’t accept them. In the bargainings -and shifts of the Allies I must be unfettered, -if necessary blindly followed, by the American -delegation. Otherwise there’ll be another -Congress of Vienna.... It’s not that I -criticise our Allies, I would be loath to do -that; but I understand their passions and -distress. Firmness on our part may perhaps -redress the balance.... Where’s Lansing? -(<span class="italic">The Secretary of State comes in.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Lansing</span>: Good morning, Mr. President.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span> (<span class="italic">wistfully</span>): Why—you’re mighty formal, -Lansing. I’ve not to convince you again, -I trust. Why, Lansing——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Lansing</span>: I hold, as you know, that with the -Republicans in a majority in both Houses, -it’s an act of, I won’t say folly, Mr. President, -but an act of ill-judgment to have them -uncommitted to the terms of peace.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: I’m taking Hoover and White.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Lansing</span>: White means nothing, and Hoover is -only an expert. Lodge, Root, Leonard -Wood should all go with you as delegates.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: No, Mr. Secretary. (<span class="smcap">Tumulty</span> <span class="italic">bows -his head as if to a blow</span>.) No, a thousand -times.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Lansing</span>: They’ll tear up your work otherwise. -I speak as your friend, Mr. President. -Myself as you know I don’t think extravagantly -well of your plan for a League of -Nations. I’ve never disguised that. -Though a fine ideal it isn’t practical——But -setting my views aside, and speaking as -a friend to the proposal, because it’s your -proposal, I feel bound to say that, if the -Republicans aren’t pledged to it in advance, -it will never pass Congress.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span> (<span class="italic">affectionately</span>): Lansing, you’re so -logical and clear there seems to be no escape -from your reasoning. I’ve no doubt you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> -size up the Republican intentions mighty -well. But you’re wrong for all that; and -where you go wrong is right at the beginning. -Don’t you see the choice of evils before -me? If I don’t take the Republicans they -may try to wreck my work when it’s done, -true; but if I do take them the work won’t -be done at all.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Lansing</span> (<span class="italic">stiffly</span>): I can’t allow that, Mr. President. -They’re good, patriotic Americans.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: Who says they aren’t? Who suggests -for one moment that they won’t do their -best for America and the Allies? But will -they do the best for the world? (<span class="smcap">Lansing</span> -<span class="italic">is silent</span>.) Will they tie the world up in a -League against war; or will they inflict a -vindictive peace, that’ll do no more than sow -the seeds of another?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Lansing</span>: You distrust their patriotism?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: Never. I distrust their passions. Or -say I’m wrong. Say their conception of the -peace is the proper one, and mine a delusion. -How can we work together? The Delegation -couldn’t be depended on to agree in -the smallest particular. I should just be -playing a lone hand; and the Allies, knowing -my house to be divided against itself, would -put me aside in the Conference like a cipher. -No, Lansing. I’ll go to Paris with those on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> -whom I can rely. I’ll so tie up the peace -with the League, that the one can’t live -without the other; and if, as you prophesy, -I find myself deserted by Congress, I’ll go -over their heads to the American people in -whose ideals the thing has its roots. That is -my final decision.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Lansing</span>: I hope you’ll not regret it.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(<span class="italic">He takes his leave. The others follow him -with their eyes. The President gives a half -laugh.</span>)</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: Ah, if one could only add to the good -qualities one’s friends possess, the good -qualities one would have them possess.... -(<span class="italic">He sighs</span>). These Commissions (<span class="italic">holding up -the papers he has signed</span>), they’re all in order -now?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tumulty</span>: Yes, Governor.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: Deliver them yourself. (<span class="italic">He reads out -the names as he hands them over.</span>) House -... Lansing ... White.</p> - - -<p class="center mb2"><span class="smcap">The Scene Closes.</span></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<div class="justify"> -<h4 class="inline"> -<span class="smcap">Scene II.</span></h4> -<p class="inline">—<span class="smcap">Wilson’s</span> <span class="italic">house in the Place des Etats -Unis, Paris, in the year 1919. A spring -morning. The windows of the room look out -upon an old-world square—made safe for -democracy by American detectives.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Woodrow Wilson</span> <span class="italic">sits in a deep armchair by the -table. His colleagues</span> <span class="smcap">Clemenceau</span>, <span class="smcap">David -Lloyd George</span> <span class="italic">and</span> <span class="smcap">Orlando</span> <span class="italic">are grouped -around him</span>.</p> - -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: Gentlemen, a little merriment would -season our labours. (<span class="italic">Polite murmurs.</span>) There -was a man, a Confederate soldier, in our -civil war, who soliloquised thus on a long -hard march: “I love my country, and I’m -fighting for my country; but if this war ends -I’ll be dad-burned if I ever love another -country.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Others</span> (<span class="italic">spiritlessly</span>): Ha! Ha! Ha!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: Signor Orlando, you don’t laugh.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Orlando</span>: No, sare.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: I’m sorry. The point of my story -was somewhat directed to you. I feel rather -like that Confederate soldier. I took the -American people into war; but I don’t mean -to have them dragged into another by a bad -territorial settlement in the Adriatic!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Orlando</span>: Well, Fiume can be waiting.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: All things can wait. But don’t, I beg -you, fall into error. My view of that matter -will never change. Monsieur Clemenceau, -Gentlemen, be with me in this I entreat you. -(<span class="italic">A brief silence.</span>) And now, Part I of the -Treaty. We are agreed to incorporate the -Covenant of the League of Nations there?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> -(<span class="italic">There is still silence.</span>) Gentlemen, I can’t -think that you hesitate——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Clemenceau</span>: Sur cette question de la Société -des Nations. Il est bien entendu, n’est -ce pas, que la Traité de Garantie, La Pacte, -entre La France, Les Etats Unis, et la -Grande Bretagne——?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: Why, Mr. Lloyd George will answer -for England, but I guess there’s no doubt -at all concerning America.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Lloyd George</span>: As the President says, I answer -for Great Britain. I have agreed in her -name that, in certain conditions, she shall be -bound to act with France. On the fulfilment -of those conditions, she will so act.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Clemenceau</span>: Alors, en principe je suis d’accord.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: In principle. Yes, Monsieur. In -principle we have never differed. But on -the concrete proposition that this Covenant -as drafted be embodied in the Treaty——?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Clemenceau</span>: Well, I do not object.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: You take a weight from my mind.... -I wish to be frank, Gentlemen. I am not -happy about the voting of the British Empire -in the Assembly of the League. I can’t -disguise from you that it’s a difficult provision -to explain to the American people. -It may antagonise them. I make a final -effort. Mr. Lloyd George, would your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> -Dominions be irreconcilable to exercising -their vote in one Empire delegation?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Lloyd George</span>: They would reject it, Mr. -President. I myself would move the rejection. -(<span class="italic">A brief pause.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: I put the question formally. That -the Covenant, as drafted, stand embodied in -the Treaty of Peace. (<span class="italic">Aye.</span>) Gentlemen, -I thank you for your forbearance. These -questions of the Saar Valley and Danzig.... -(<span class="italic">They pass to other business.</span>)</p> -</div> - - -<p class="center mb2"><span class="smcap">The Scene Closes.</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<div style="text-align:justify"> -<h4 class="inline"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span></h4> -<p class="inline">—<span class="italic">The anteroom of a public hall at -Pueblo in the Western States, during</span> <span class="smcap">President -Wilson’s</span> <span class="italic">tour on behalf of the Treaty of -Versailles. September 25th, 1919. When the -door is open, the speaker’s voice in the main -hall is distinctly audible.</span></p></div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Admiral Grayson</span> <span class="italic">is waiting anxiously</span>. -<span class="smcap">Mrs. Wilson</span> <span class="italic">hurries in</span>.</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Wilson</span>: The President—it’s critical. He -must be persuaded against continuing this -tour.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Grayson</span>: I have been saying that, ma’am, for -a long time.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Wilson</span>: But it grows more urgent. I -left the platform to find you. How he’ll<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> -finish I don’t know. He was swaying and -the utterance seemed more difficult each -minute. Nothing but his iron determination -sustains him.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Grayson</span>: Nothing but the depth of his convictions -and his devotion to the task he -has begun, have brought him so far.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Wilson</span>: You must prevail on him, Admiral. -If he breaks, the League breaks. Use that -with him.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Grayson</span>: Prevail. Have you ever tried, ma’am, -to prevail upon a monolith? (<span class="smcap">Tumulty</span> -<span class="italic">enters, jubilant</span>). How does it go?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tumulty</span>: He’s carrying them. The old wonderful -Wilson touch. Listen.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="italic">He throws open the door. The President’s -rich, musical voice, full of power, is borne in -upon them.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Wilson</span>: Why, he sounds to be quite -recovered.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Grayson</span> (<span class="italic">reverently</span>): Hush, ma’am. It is the -voice of a prophet.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span> (<span class="italic">off</span>): Now that the mists of this great -question have cleared away, I believe that -men will see the truth, eye to eye and face to -face. There is one thing that the American -people always rise to and extend their hand -to, and that is the truth of justice and of -liberty and of peace. We have accepted that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> -truth, and we are going to be led by it; and it -is going to lead us, and through us the world, -out into pastures of quietness and peace, such -as the world never dreamed of before.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="italic">Prolonged applause. The President enters, -followed by local magnates and his staff.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tumulty</span>: Oh, Governor, this is the best you’ve -ever done.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: Tumulty, it does me good to hear you -speak so. I guess—why, surely this building -is strangely unsteady—or—Everything’s -going. Why, Grayson, it’s—it’s dark.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Grayson</span>: Bear up, Sir. A touch of vertigo. -You’re tired.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span> (<span class="italic">horror in his eyes</span>): No. My speech. -Failing. I can’t—articulate.</p> - - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p><span class="italic">He sinks into</span> <span class="smcap">Grayson’s</span> <span class="italic">arms, and is lowered -into a chair</span>. <span class="smcap">Mrs. Wilson</span> <span class="italic">falls on her knees -beside him</span>.</p></div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tumulty</span>: In God’s name, Admiral——?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Grayson</span>: Paralysis. The tour is over.</p> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="italic">They prepare to carry the President away.</span></p> -</div> - - -<p class="center mb2"><span class="smcap">The Scene closes.</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<div class="justify"> -<h4 class="inline"><span class="smcap">Scene IV.</span></h4> -<p class="inline">—<span class="italic">A room in the White House. January -16th, 1920.</span> <span class="smcap">Woodrow Wilson</span>, <span class="italic">a shadow of -himself, is at his desk</span>. <span class="smcap">Tumulty</span> <span class="italic">as usual is -behind the President’s chair. The President -is reading a telegram.</span></p> -</div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span></p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: Tumulty, this is bitter. Bitter.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tumulty</span>: Yes, Governor.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: They’re meeting beyond the sea in -Paris. The League that received birth in -American ideals. And the chair of America -is empty, not by the declared wish of the -people—I’d not believe it, were such a wish -expressed—but by the strength of personal -rancour in the Senate. It’s unbelievable.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tumulty</span>: And no one there to represent -American ideals and aspirations!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: Brazil. This telegram says the -Brazilian spoke for the whole American -continent: that was brave and far-sighted -of him. But it cuts me to the heart to think -that the duty of speaking for America should -rest elsewhere than on us.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tumulty</span>: It’s hard.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: Hard? It’s cynically false. Tumulty. -I can’t believe that is the wish of the country. -I will take them the Covenant with my two -hands, reason with them, explain....</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tumulty</span> (<span class="italic">gently</span>): No, dear Governor, you have -done all that a man could do. Another -effort would waste your life——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: I would give it gladly.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tumulty</span>: To no purpose, now.</p> -</div> - - -<p class="center mb2"><span class="smcap">The Scene closes.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span></span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<div class="justify"> -<h4 class="inline"><span class="smcap">Scene V.</span></h4> -<p class="inline">—<span class="italic">The Presidential Room at the Capitol, -Washington. Just before 12 noon on March -4th, 1921</span>.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Woodrow Wilson</span>, <span class="smcap">Marshall</span>, <span class="italic">the Vice-President, -and</span> <span class="smcap">Tumulty</span> <span class="italic">are waiting for the -hour to strike that will make</span> <span class="smcap">Warren Harding</span> -<span class="italic">President of the United States of America, and</span> -<span class="smcap">Wilson</span> <span class="italic">a free citizen again.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: They have been great years to live in. -I’ve tried to be worthy of them.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tumulty</span>: And succeeded, with Lincoln and -George Washington, Governor.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span> (<span class="italic">shyly</span>): You put me in mighty good -company. Anyone can be great in great -times. The events we’ve been through called -for something superhuman. I wish I could -have given that.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Marshall</span>: No man could have done more, Mr. -President. Some day the world will see it.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: Marshall, I’m not ambitious for the -world to see any such thing. I want my -work to prosper. That is all.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tumulty</span>: It has made a beginning.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: A small beginning, a halting beginning, -but a beginning, yes. Yet when I think of -what the League could be doing to facilitate -a general settling down to peace, if only -America were behind it— And yet again,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> -perhaps it is well. Maybe, if things had not -so fallen out, the weaknesses of the thing we -made would not have become manifest, until -it was too late for improvement.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Marshall</span>: You think it has weaknesses?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: The highest product of man’s mind, -the law, is full of weaknesses, Marshall. How -can this new conception have escaped them? -But the idea will surely triumph. I have -faith.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tumulty</span>: The new administration will kill it, -if they can.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span>: I have faith.... It must be nearly -time now.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="italic">A tall, spare man followed by his colleagues -walks into the Chamber. This is</span> <span class="smcap">Senator -Lodge</span>, <span class="italic">the President’s life-long political foe</span>.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Lodge</span> (<span class="italic">stiffly</span>): Mr. President, we have come, as -a Committee of the Senate, to notify you -that the Senate and the House are about to -adjourn, and await your pleasure.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wilson</span> (<span class="italic">rising with majesty</span>): Senator Lodge, I -have no further communication to make. I -thank you.... The few seconds now remaining -no more than suffice me to lay down -the authority derived from my office. (<span class="italic">The -clock strikes twelve.</span>) Gentlemen, I wish you -well, and farewell. Come, Tumulty.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span></p> - - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p><span class="italic">He goes. Simultaneously a roar of applause -without, proclaims the accession of</span> <span class="smcap">President -Harding</span>.</p> -</div> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Scene closes.</span></p> - -<p class="center">[THE END.]</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="JEMIMA_BLOGGS">JEMIMA BLOGGS</h3> -</div> - -<p class="ph">(<span class="italic">A Play of Life as it is, in the Manchester manner of -Mr. St. John Ervine.</span>)</p> - -<h4>ACT I</h4> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>: <span class="italic">A dingy parlour in a London Suburb. Two -men in ill-fitting garments are sitting glumly, in -comfortless chairs with shabby and rather soiled -covers, on either side of a dismal mockery of a -fire. The room is lit with incandescent gas, -which shows a sickly yellow through a raw haze, -offensively compounded of “London Particular” -and the penetrating yellow fumes of cheap -coal. The men are</span> <span class="smcap">Joseph Bloggs</span> <span class="italic">(52), one of -life’s many failures, and</span> <span class="smcap">Henry Hooker</span> <span class="italic">(49), -another of them. Their tired white faces are -resting on their hands, and they are staring into -the smoking grate. At last</span> <span class="smcap">Hooker</span> <span class="italic">breaks the -intolerable silence</span>.</p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span> (<span class="italic">gloomily</span>): The fire’s smoking.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span>: Yes. (<span class="italic">He pokes it. The fire smoulders -angrily. They cough. There is a pause.</span> -<span class="smcap">Hooker</span> <span class="italic">looks out of the window</span>.)</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span> (<span class="italic">darkly</span>): It’s raining.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span> (<span class="italic">with a deep sigh</span>): Yes.... Has the -fog lifted?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: No. It’s getting thicker.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span> (<span class="italic">with resignation</span>): Ah, well. (<span class="smcap">Jemima</span> (42)<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> -<span class="italic">comes in, tiredly. She is the wife of</span> <span class="smcap">Bloggs</span>, <span class="italic">a -thin, prematurely grey-haired woman, haggard -with cares. The fire welcomes her with a -spiteful volley of lyddite.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span> (<span class="italic">wearily</span>): You’re here, are you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span>: Yes.... The fire’s smoking.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span> (<span class="italic">with a sigh</span>): I’ll make it up. (<span class="italic">She makes -a listless attack on it with the poker. The fire -goes out.</span>) The coals are so bad. (<span class="italic">She painfully -rekindles it.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: Yes.</p> - -<p>Jemima (<span class="italic">addressing</span> <span class="smcap">Bloggs</span>): That kid’s very bad -again. She’s coughing something awful.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span>: Better have the doctor.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span>: Perhaps Mr. Hooker would tell him on -his way home?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span>: The gas company’s going to cut off the -gas to-morrow, unless—Joseph, couldn’t we -pay something on account?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span>: I’ll see what I can do.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: Life’s very hard.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span>: Yes. (<span class="italic">She begins to lay the table with -enamel cups and saucers.</span>) You’ll stay for tea, -Mr. Hooker?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span> (<span class="italic">drearily</span>): Yes. I suppose so. (<span class="italic">They -wait in silent misery for the kettle to boil.</span>)</p> -</div> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Curtain Falls.</span></p> - -<p class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</p> - - -<div class="figcenter illowp52" id="lifes_very" style="max-width: 87.5em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/lifes_very.jpg" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"><p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: Life’s very hard.</p></div> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span></p> - - -<h4 class="nobreak">ACT II.</h4> -</div> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>: <span class="italic">The same room, slightly more dingy.</span> -<span class="smcap">Jemima Bloggs</span>, <span class="italic">her husband, and a</span> <span class="smcap">Doctor</span> -<span class="italic">are standing under the gas bracket</span>. <span class="smcap">Hooker</span>, -<span class="italic">as usual, is crouching over the starveling fire</span>.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Doctor</span> (<span class="italic">curtly</span>): She can’t live. It’s only -a matter of days, perhaps hours. I must go.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span>: Can nothing be done?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Doctor</span>: Can you send her to the Riviera?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span>: No. Would that cure her?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Doctor</span>: It might.... I’m sorry. Good-day. -(<span class="italic">He goes.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span> (<span class="italic">in a shaking voice</span>): I’ll get your tea, -Joseph. (<span class="italic">She begins taking down the cups and -laying the table.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span> (<span class="italic">as if in a trance</span>): The Riviera might -save her. (<span class="italic">He takes his hat.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span>: Won’t you wait for tea before you go?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span>: I don’t want any tea. (<span class="italic">He slouches -miserably out.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: The fog’s very thick.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span>: Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: It’s still raining. (<span class="italic">He takes his hat and coat.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span>: Won’t you stay for tea, Mr. Hooker?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: I don’t feel equal to tea. (<span class="italic">He goes out -unsteadily.</span> <span class="smcap">Jemima</span> <span class="italic">sits wretchedly by the -smouldering hearth. The child cries out in its -delirium. The fog steals into the room obscuring -everything.</span>)</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Curtain Falls.</span></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h4 class="nobreak">ACT III.</h4> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>: <span class="italic">The same room—if possible dingier than -ever.</span> <span class="smcap">Jemima</span> <span class="italic">is sitting hunched up by the fire, -which is enveloping her in a yellow cloud</span>. -<span class="smcap">Bloggs</span> <span class="italic">is pushed into the room by a hard-faced -man</span>.</p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The Hard-Faced Man</span> (<span class="italic">grimly</span>): I’ve brought you -back your husband, ma’am. You may as well -know he’s discharged from my employment.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span> (<span class="italic">tonelessly</span>): Oh?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The H.F.M.</span>: And lucky he’s not prosecuted.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span> (<span class="italic">as before</span>): Oh?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The H.F.M.</span>: Embezzlement’s a serious thing.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span>: Yes.... Starvation’s serious too.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The H.F.M.</span>: That’s your affair.... I don’t -want thanks. I don’t intend to prosecute, -because it’s a nuisance. That’s all.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span>: Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span> (<span class="italic">inadvertently stepping out of the picture</span>): -I tell you I did it to save my little girl. She’s -dying. I must have money to save her—to -send her abroad. Oh, Amy, Amy, my child. -(<span class="italic">He tries in vain to sob.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The H.F.M.</span> (<span class="italic">chillingly</span>): No sentiment, please! -This is not the Lyceum.... Now, I’m -going. I hope I never see either of you -again. I don’t care two straws whether the -girl dies or not. And I won’t wish you luck, -because I don’t specially want you to have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> -it, and anyway you wouldn’t get it. (<span class="italic">But -they are paying no attention, and he goes.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span> (<span class="italic">listlessly</span>): Doctor’s been again.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span> (<span class="italic">the same</span>): Oh yes?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span>: Says she’s getting better.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span>: Is she? (<span class="italic">He sits by the fire in his hat -and coat. The inevitable</span> <span class="smcap">Hooker</span> <span class="italic">slouches in, -similarly clad, and takes his place on the other -side. A melancholy silence reigns.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span> (<span class="italic">at last</span>): It’s raining again.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span> (<span class="italic">bringing in the milk-jug</span>): The thunder’s -turned the milk sour.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span> (<span class="italic">dismally</span>): I thought it would.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span> (<span class="italic">shivering, and hugging himself in his coat</span>): -There’s a thick fog, and it’s very damp.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span> (<span class="italic">gloomily</span>): There always is.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: Yes. (<span class="italic">The fire contributes to the general -depression by a shower of soot, and a sudden -belch of acrid yellow fumes.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bloggs</span>: Jemima, the fire’s smoking.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jemima</span> (<span class="italic">wearily</span>): I’ll make it up in a minute. -(<span class="italic">She worries it with various implements. More -soot falls and the smoke increases. She stirs it -aimlessly with the poker. It flickers and goes -out for the last time. They, and the audience, -are too depressed to care. They sit staring -blankly at the grate as the cold and fog -gradually invade the room.</span>)</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Curtain Falls very slowly.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span></span></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="UNDER_EASTERN_SKIES">UNDER EASTERN SKIES</h3> -</div> - -<p class="ph">(<span class="italic">A Romantic Drama suitable for performance at -His Majesty’s Theatre</span>.)</p> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<div class="justify"> -<h4 class="inline"><span class="smcap">First Scene.</span></h4> -<p class="inline">—<span class="italic">A street in Damascus, copied, with -meticulous exactitude, from the Byway of -Beggars in that famous city. Even the smells -are there—thanks to an ingenious contrivance of -concealed sprays, by means of which the appropriate -odour is insinuated into the nostrils of -the audience.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="italic">A party of camels, an elephant and a couple of -giraffes, are loitering about in the charge of -officials from the Zoological Gardens disguised -as Bedouin Sheiks.</span> <span class="smcap">Ali Baba</span>, <span class="smcap">Sinbad the -Sailor</span>, <span class="smcap">Shibli Bagarag</span>, <span class="italic">and other familiar -Eastern figures are exchanging hoarse Oriental -salutations from their houses and shops. Goats, -sheep, goatwomen, shepherds, etc., complete -the picture.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Ali Baba</span> (<span class="italic">in a wailing shriek</span>): Inshallah, -wullahy, eywallah.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Shibli Bagarag</span> (<span class="italic">lamenting</span>): Eywah! Traadisveribadahii! -(<span class="italic">He beats his breast</span>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">A Passer-by</span> (<span class="italic">indignantly addressing a stolid camel-driver</span>): -Bismillah, O Son of my Uncle, have -thy camels, on whom be peace, acquired a -<em>firman</em> investing in them the sole use of this -highway?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Outraged Camel-driver</span> (<span class="italic">forgetting his part -and falling back on the language of Regent’s -Park</span>): ’Ere. Look ’ere——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Another Passer-by</span> (<span class="italic">hastily interrupting, and -turning upon the first with contumely</span>): Hence, -brother of a baboon. Mock not dumb -beasts, as it is written.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">A Goat</span>: M-a-a-a-a.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">A Goatwoman</span>: Aie, little one, muzzle thy -tongue ... (<span class="italic">resuming her conversation</span>). In -sooth, O my father, as thou dost say——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Goat</span> (<span class="italic">rebelliously</span>): M-a-a-a-a-a.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Goatwoman</span>: Arree, be silent, child of -misfortune, or thou shalt see the inside -of a stewpan. (<span class="italic">The goat thinks better -of it.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Hajji Oskarashi Ben Daoud Ben Ismail</span> (<span class="italic">a -holy and very dirty man of enormous size, -sinister appearance and awe-inspiring voice, -appearing from a hovel</span>): Alms. Alms for the -love of Allah. (<span class="italic">People give him money. He -takes it nonchalantly and without thanks.</span>) -Alms in the name of the Compassionate. -(<span class="italic">He moves majestically on, until he meets a -disreputable-looking being who has just emerged -from a side street. Aside to this apparition.</span>) -Is all arranged?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">His Confederate</span> (<span class="italic">in a low tone</span>): Ya, holy one. -(<span class="italic">At the top of his voice in order to deceive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> -everyone except the audience.</span>) Nay, I have -nothing for thee, thou evil-smelling and -consummate old humbug.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Oskarashi</span> (<span class="italic">whining</span>): Deny not of thy plenty, O -gracious benefactor, as it is written. (<span class="italic">Aside</span>) -What is the signal?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">His Confederate</span> (<span class="italic">giving money with bad grace</span>): -Veialeikum a-salaam, O holy one. (<span class="italic">Aside</span>) -Three raps on the outer postern gate: and -then——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Oskarashi</span> (<span class="italic">showing his teeth in a terrible smile</span>): -And then—blood and much booty (<span class="italic">passing on</span>). -Alms in the name of Allah.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Goat</span> (<span class="italic">unable to contain itself</span>): M-a-a-a-a-a!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Camels and Giraffes</span>: M-o-o-o-o-o!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Elephant</span>—<span class="italic">But no, we cannot describe the -cry of the elephant.</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">A Muezzin</span> (<span class="italic">appearing on his minaret</span>): La Allah -il Allah (<span class="italic">a bell tolls. The faithful prostrate -themselves towards the East</span>).</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<div class="justify"> -<h4 class="inline"><span class="smcap">Second Scene.</span></h4> -<p class="inline">—<span class="italic">Bagdad. The harem of Oskarashi -ben Daoud, etc. We deduce either -that alms-seeking in the East is a highly -lucrative profession, or else that the “much -booty,” referred to in the first scene, proved even -more abundant than was expected. The harem -is an enormous apartment, about the size of the -Albert Hall, with a swimming pool fed by a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> -golden fountain in the centre, and rows of -marble colonnades receding in all directions into -an apparently illimitable distance. A vast -concourse of beautiful and, despite their biscuit-coloured -complexions, unmistakably European -young women, languish on cushions of every -variety of texture and colouring.</span></p></div> - -<p><span class="italic">A pair of acrobats, a jazz band of strange -instruments, and some kind of Oriental glee -party are giving a simultaneous performance. -Some withered crones with birches are chastising -certain recalcitrant wives in a corner. Our -friends the camels, giraffes and elephants have -been replaced by a party of leopards, duck-billed -platypuses, anthropoid apes, okapis and -tapirs.</span> <span class="smcap">Oskarashi</span> <span class="italic">himself, comatose after an -enormous Eastern supper, is keeping awake with -difficulty, propped up against a mound of -cushions piled on a huge divan. Entwined -around him, serpent-wise, is Zobeide el Okra, -the Bulbul of the harem.</span></p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The Glee Party</span> (<span class="italic">bursting into the well-known -Eastern ditty</span>):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza0"> - <div class="verse indent0">We sit and gobble with chopsticks and spoon</div> - <div class="verse indent0">From the midnight hour to the stroke of noon,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Gobble at work and——</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Oskarashi</span>: Enough. Let them be dispatched. -(<span class="italic">Black slaves hurl them into the Tigris, which -obligingly flows near by.</span>) Let the feast<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span> -proceed. (<span class="italic">An obsequious conjurer appears; -nobody, however, pays any attention, except the -junior members of the audience, who are -properly fascinated.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">One of the Acrobats</span> (<span class="italic">drawing aside his disguise -and revealing himself as the terrible</span> <span class="smcap">Aswarak</span>—<span class="italic">whom -we forgot to mention in Scene I, but who -plays an important part in the proceedings. He -addresses one of the attendants, who draws aside -his disguise and reveals the features of the -dreaded</span> <span class="smcap">Boo Boo</span>): All is ready?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Boo Boo</span> (<span class="italic">grimly</span>): Ya Aswarak. Allah hath -favoured us. Every door is stopped and the -black guards have received their price.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Aswarak</span>: It is well.... Remember she is to -be mine.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Boo Boo</span>: Whom—I mean who?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Aswarak</span> (<span class="italic">rapturously</span>): The Bulbul of the night, -the reward of the favoured of Islam.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Boo Boo</span>: Have a care, Holy One, we may be -overheard.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Aswarak</span>: And the signal?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Boo Boo</span>: Thy song. (<span class="italic">The conjurer concludes -his entertainment.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Aswarak</span>: I will now sing.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Everyone</span>: Oh, Allah, must this be?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Oskarashi</span> (<span class="italic">grimly</span>): Let him sing. Guards be -at hand to do my bidding.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Aswarak</span> (<span class="italic">aside</span>): Thy last bidding in this world,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> -O corpulent Father of Obscenity. (<span class="italic">Aloud</span>) -As thou sayest, O Protector of the Poor. (<span class="italic">He -takes his lute and sings, gazing ardently—almost -too ardently—at Zobeide</span>):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza0"> - <div class="verse indent9">Ah, when the sun</div> - <div class="verse indent9">Gives up the ghost;</div> - <div class="verse indent9">And lovers run,</div> - <div class="verse indent9">With ardent boast,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent9">To woo the one</div> - <div class="verse indent9">Each fancies most—</div> - <div class="verse indent9">The stars arise</div> - <div class="verse indent9">Behind thine eyes</div> - <div class="verse indent9">O Bulbul.</div> - </div></div></div> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">All</span>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza0"> -<div class="verse indent9">O Bul-bul-bul.</div> - </div></div></div> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">Aswarak</span>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza0"> - <div class="verse indent9"> And I thy sighs</div> - <div class="verse indent9">Apostrophize</div> - <div class="verse indent9">O Bulbul.</div> - </div></div></div> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">All</span>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza0"> - <div class="verse indent9">O Bul-bul-bul—</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Oskarashi</span> (<span class="italic">who has no intention of allowing this -kind of thing to go on</span>): Enough! Well sung, -Minstrel. (<span class="italic">Darkly</span>) Thy reward?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Aswarak</span> (<span class="italic">throwing off his disguise</span>): Thy head, -Father of Abomination. (<span class="italic">Tumult. He draws -a sword and rushes at the divan. The wives -scuttle wailing, pursued by the guards, who pour -into the chamber. Everyone runs shouting -after someone else.</span> <span class="smcap">Oskarashi</span> <span class="italic">strikes his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> -assailants into a heap, and hurls himself roaring -into the Tigris. The curtain falls upon a -writhing mass of humanity.</span>)</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - - -<div class="justify blockquot"> -<h4 class="inline"><span class="smcap">Third Scene.</span></h4> -<p class="inline">—<span class="italic">The action has for some reason -shifted to China—probably in order that Mr. -Gloomy Bishop, the celebrated producer, may -be enabled to show the London public what he is -really capable of, when he cares to extend himself. -The stage, therefore, is a blaze of red -lacquer and Chinese Lanterns, supplemented by -pagodas, palanquins and pigtails. A forbidding -archway of crumbling masonry—flanked on -either side by a barbaric figure armed with -crossbow, javelin, long horsehair moustache and -a hideous expression of brutality, indicates -that the action is about to continue at the -Gateway of the Lotus—a bypath in Old Pekin.</span> -<span class="smcap">Oskarashi</span>, <span class="italic">the Venerable Hajji, has lain here -in honourable concealment ever since his escape -in the Tigris. But ah! his hiding place has -been discovered. This is made apparent by -the highly suspicious conduct of two strolling -passers-by, whose physical characteristics appear -to correspond more or less accurately with those -of</span> <span class="smcap">Aswarak</span> <span class="italic">and the odious</span> <span class="smcap">Boo Boo.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">First Stroller</span> (<span class="italic">accosting the other with all the -honeyed courtesy of the Celestial Empire</span>): -Honourable Dweller in a foreign land, deign<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span> -to accept of my accursed superfluity. (<span class="italic">Gives -money and continues in an undertone</span>) The -detested of Islam has been discovered.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Second Stroller</span> (<span class="italic">performing the ceremonies, -observances and obeisances prescribed in the -canons of Celestial etiquette</span>): May the shadow -of this undeserving one diminish and disappear, -if he should unworthily be found -wanting in gratitude to your honourable and -beatific and excellent self. (<span class="italic">Pouches the coins -and continues also in an undertone</span>) Where, -O Father of Procrastination?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">First Stroller</span>: As Confucius justly remarks, -charity—(<span class="italic">dropping his voice</span>). In a certain -hovel in the back street beyond the wall, he -conceals himself, plying the disreputable -calling—may his porkers perish—of a seller -of swine’s flesh—the curse of the prophet’s -beard be upon him. Everything is arranged. -To-night we surround the house: rush in -at the appointed hour: and nail him to the -counter in the midst of his abominable -merchandise. Bismillah.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Second Stroller</span> (<span class="italic">fiercely</span>): Inshallah! (<span class="italic">Louder</span>) -The honourable greeting of your illustrious -Excellency has brought sunshine and hope -into the miserable existence of this one.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">First Stroller</span>: Your honourable praise is -sweeter in the ears of this obsequious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> -rubbish-heap, than the music of the Celestial -stars. Peace be with you.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="italic">They depart. A bundle of rags and blankets -in a neighbouring corner suddenly comes to -life, and reveals the familiar lineaments of -Oskarashi, as he slinks away, like an enormous -anthropoid ape, to his hovel in the back street -beyond the wall.</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - - -<div class="blockquot justify"> - -<h4 class="inline"><span class="smcap">Fourth Scene.</span></h4> -<p class="inline">—<span class="italic">We now find ourselves at night in -an even more ancient and dilapidated part of -the city—the neighbourhood of the hovel in the -back street, beyond the wall. A number of -American tourists, shepherded by an unsightly -and bespectacled Baboo from the local Cook’s -office, are making a tour of these rather unsavoury -precincts, before embarking to join the P. and O. -steamer at Hong Kong. Lurking in the background -are</span> <span class="smcap">Aswarak</span>, <span class="smcap">Boo Boo and Co.</span>, with -an arsenal of weapons, closing in upon their -enemy.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Baboo</span> (<span class="italic">addressing his audience collectively</span>): -And—here—we—have—a—typical—example—of—the—ar—chitecture—of -old—Pekin—dating—to—a—time—co—eval—with—Ginghis -Khan—in—my—country.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">A Tourist</span>: My, Sally. Look at here! (<span class="italic">To the -guide</span>) Say, cutey, what you callum this?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> -(<span class="italic">She points to a procession forming up among -the houses.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Baboo</span>: This—is—a very—fortunate—circumstance. -Ladies—and—gentlemen—we—are—about—to—witness—a—Manchu—funeral.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Another Tourist</span>: Some guy pegged out, I -guess.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Baboo</span>: We must—withdraw—to—one—side. -(<span class="italic">They do so.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Aswarak</span> (<span class="italic">or</span> <span class="smcap">Boo Boo</span>): A thousand curses. We -must delay the assault until this pig of an -unbeliever has been taken away. (<span class="italic">They -confer.</span>)</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="italic">The procession advances, headed by the -Mourners, who are singing a terrible wailing -melody. As they approach the words become -audible.</span></p></div> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">The Mourners</span> (<span class="italic">dolefully</span>):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza0"> - <div class="verse indent0">Honourable mandarin gone west,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Welly sick belly and pain in chest,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Silly fellow leave off winter vest,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">No can facee breeze.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">First catchee chicken-pox, then get croup,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Double pneumonia, and off he poop:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Chop-suey, Laichee, Birds-nest-soup,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That’s good stage Chinese.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(<span class="italic">They go out with their melancholy burden.</span>)</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Baboo</span>: We—will—now—return—in -time—for—the—especial—dance—for—ladies—and gentlemen—at—the—Nautical—Club. -(<span class="italic">He takes his tribe away.</span>)</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(<span class="italic">The stage darkens.</span> <span class="smcap">Aswarak and Co.</span> <span class="italic">begin -to emerge stealthily from their hiding place. -Red limelight illumines the stage. Weird -music. They rush into the hovel. Reappear -raving like Bedlamites.</span> <span class="smcap">Oskarashi</span> <span class="italic">has -escaped. They realise that he was in the -coffin of the Manchu funeral. In the thick of -the hubbub, the voices of the returning mourners -are heard.</span>)</p> -</div> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">The Mourners</span> (<span class="italic">returning</span>):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza0"> - <div class="verse indent0">Chinky Chinky Chip Chip Choop,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And any damn rot you please,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Chop-suey, Laichee, Birds-nest-soup</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Welly good stage Chinese.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Aswarak</span> (<span class="italic">foaming at the mouth</span>): Halt, evil-tongued -progeny of obscene mothers!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Mourners</span> (<span class="italic">tearing off their disguises</span>): What? -Offal-eating scum of the bazaar! (<span class="italic">They fall -on each other. The curtain falls on the familiar -spectacle of writhing humanity.</span>)</p> - -<p>The last scene we are not sure about. It -depends largely on the temperamental judgment -of Mr. Gloomy Bishop. It was originally planned -to be the courtyard of the Dalai Lamasery of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> -Thibet. Mr. Bishop, however, leans in favour -of a Patagonian village or alternatively a street -scene in Tristan d’Acunha. He thinks the latter -might enable him to introduce a talking penguin -as a counterweight to Mr. Charles Cochran’s -singing duck. And he is not absolutely certain -that he wouldn’t like a Honolulu surf scene, or -perhaps a salt mining camp on the Gulf of -Carpentaria. Mr. Bishop is not sure; and he -must have time to think it over.</p> - -<p>Things, therefore, are held up until the producer -and author can come to an agreement. -But on one thing the author is adamant. -Oskarashi has got to come to a sticky end. The -author absolutely refuses to allow the fellow to be -perpetuated in another play.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="THE_VODKA_BOTTLE">THE VODKA BOTTLE</h3> -</div> - -<p class="ph">(<span class="italic">A Play of Russian Life in the manner of Anton -Tchekov.</span>)</p> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="italic">The study of Ivan Ivanovitch Bougárov, a wealthy -landowner. Bougárov is alone at the desk. A -vodka bottle and a measuring glass are at his -elbow.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span> (<span class="italic">sniffing the glass</span>): It’s strong enough, -I think.... Brr, what a filthy stench!... -Where are the directions? (<span class="italic">He gropes for a piece -of paper.</span>) Here they are. Sprinkle it on -toasted cheese, and leave it lying about in the -vicinity of their holes. (<span class="italic">Examining the -bottle.</span>) That ought to be sufficient for all -the rats in Little Russia as the saying is. -(<span class="italic">Enter</span> <span class="smcap">Stepan Stepanovitch Rumbunkski</span>.)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: Good morning, honoured Ivan -Ivanovitch.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span>: Little Fathers, Stepan Stepanovitch, -how you startled me.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: Your nerves are upset, my darling. -You must give up the vodka, and all that.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span>: But my dear little Stepan Stepanovitch, -you are wrong; because you see, my -dearest little Stepan Stepanovitch, I don’t -drink vodka now, and so it can’t be vodka.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: Don’t drink vodka?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span>: No, my precious, I don’t drink it any -more; so you see you must be wrong, my -little woodchuck.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: But, Ivan Ivanovitch, my dear -fellow, don’t try to stuff my head, as the -French say. You must drink vodka, because -there’s a bottle and glass on the table before -you. I don’t say you drink to excess, my -dearest little love-bird, but you must drink -it sometimes—or you wouldn’t have it always -on the table in front of you, and so on.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span>: Stepan Stepanovitch, be careful how -you contradict me, because I can’t stand it, -my dear little flying-fish, and that’s a fact. -You ought to know better than to come into a -brother landowner’s house and accuse him of -drunkenness to his face. It’s mean; it’s -beastly; it’s not worthy of you, my little -alligator.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: I didn’t accuse you of anything of -the kind. I only said——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span>: Well, well, you withdraw. That’s -all right. We’ll say no more about it.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: But excuse me, my dear Ivan -Ivanovitch, I don’t withdraw, because I have -said nothing that calls for withdrawal. I -didn’t make any beastly accusation and all -that. All I said——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span>: Oh, little God Almighty, won’t you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> -stop talking! I can’t stand it, I tell you. -My head’s bursting, and I’ve got a terrible -pain in my shoulder blades. And both my -ears are burning.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: All I said was that vodka didn’t -agree with you, and you know it doesn’t. -Why everyone knows perfectly well that one -night, at Roobikov’s, you——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span>: Excuse me, Stepan Stepanovitch, but -you’d better go. Yes, you had better go. I -might do you a mischief, and so on; and I shall -be sorry afterwards. That night at Roobikov’s, -let me tell you, you were in a disgusting -state yourself, and unfit to pass an -opinion on anybody.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: That’s a lie, Ivan Ivanovitch: you -were always a liar and an intriguer. And as for -doing me a mischief, come and try, that’s all!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span>: Oh, little Mothers, help me to be -patient. You’re a skunk and a coward, -Stepan Stepanovitch. A skunk. You know -you’re safe in threatening me, because I’m -on my last legs with disease, and dying out, -and all that, and so you think you can insult -me with impunity. But when Dmitri -Dmitriov thrashed you with a cane——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: What’s this? What’s this lie -about Dmitri Dmitriov. Oh, Little Uncles -and Aunts, this is a bit too much!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span>: Yes. Dmitri Dmitriov thrashed you, -didn’t he? And you ran squealing about the -room, trying to hide under the furniture——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: Ivan Ivanovitch, how can you tell -such falsehoods? I was wounded at the -time and couldn’t put up a fight. But I -settled him afterwards.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span>: Yes. By having him waylaid and -thrashed by Yats, the blacksmith.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: Ivan Ivanovitch, you impugn my -honour. You insult me. If you weren’t an -old infirm vodka drunkard I’d smash you -into a jelly. I’d stamp on your face. But -please don’t imagine I shall marry your -daughter now. I say, please don’t. That’s -finished. You don’t marry into a family -that insults you. No. Never.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span>: Now, my dear Stepan Stepanovitch, -do be reasonable. Anything harsh that I -may have said you brought on yourself, my -darling. You shouldn’t have begun about -the vodka, my dearest little duck-billed -platypus.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: So I’m a coward, am I? Just wait. -I’ll get my breath, and then you’ll see.... -I’m sick. I must have a drink. (<span class="italic">Seizes the -vodka bottle.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span> (<span class="italic">trying to take it away</span>): Not that, my -dear fellow. Give it back, I implore you.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: I must have a drink, I tell you... -I’m seeing stars ... bats are flying round -my head ... I’m falling—(<span class="italic">drinks from the -bottle</span>). T’shoo! Pfui!! What disgusting -liquor.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span> (<span class="italic">protesting</span>): It isn’t liquor at all, -honoured Stepan Stepanovitch. It’s poison, -my dearest little frog. I told you it wasn’t -vodka, and you wouldn’t believe me.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span> (<span class="italic">in wild horror</span>): Poison. Where’s -an emetic?... I can’t see.... My head’s -going to burst.... Now my heart’s come -to pieces. My nose is twitching. Both my -eyes are falling out. Ah—h——(<span class="italic">falls into -a chair sobbing hysterically</span>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span> (<span class="italic">yelling</span>): He’s poisoned. I’m a rat-catcher -... we’re all murderers.... Little -Fathers, have pity! (<span class="italic">Enter</span> <span class="smcap">Irena Ivanovna</span>, -<span class="italic">Bougárov’s daughter</span>.) There. Your husband -to be. I’ve murdered him. Lock me -up. Suffocate yourself. Tickle his throat. -Give him mustard and water. A drink. -I’m fainting. Quick. (<span class="italic">She gives him the -glass from the desk. He drains it.</span>) Pouagh! -Now I’m poisoned too.... My ears have -gone to sleep.... All my teeth are aching. -I’m agony all over (<span class="italic">collapses on the sofa -screaming</span>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Irena Ivanovna</span> (<span class="italic">wildly</span>): Vodka—Champagne—Mustard<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span> -and Water. (<span class="italic">She plies them with -assorted liquors, which they drink gratefully. -They are shaken by internal tempests. They -recover slowly.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span> (<span class="italic">faintly</span>): Give thanks to Irena Ivanovna, -my dear Stepan Stepanovitch. Without -the presence of mind of your wife-to-be -you’d be a dead man, my little angel-elect.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span> (<span class="italic">feebly</span>): I say no. I’ve told you I -won’t marry her. Impugn my honour and -all that. A thousand times no.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Irena</span> (<span class="italic">tenderly</span>): Nobody’s impugned your -honour, illustrious Stepan Stepanovitch. -Your mind is affected by the poison, my -little darling.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: No. He did (<span class="italic">indicates</span> <span class="smcap">Bougárov</span>). -He accuses me of waylaying Dmitri Dmitriov. -Not that he has any right to talk after -what was done to Andrey Andreyvitch.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span> (<span class="italic">as violently as he is able</span>): Now I give -you one chance, Stepan Stepanovitch. Either -stop these insinuations or leave my house. -Yes. I’m sick of you. Yes. I’ve had -enough. Enough, I say.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span> (<span class="italic">staggering</span>): I’ll go. Yes. I’d better -go. I’m fainting with pain, and I’ve such a -bilious attack I can hardly move without -nausea; but I’d sooner suffer any torments -than put up with false friends.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Irena</span>: False friends? Take care what you say, -Stepan Stepanovitch. When you talk about -false friends remember how you betrayed -Nicolai Nicolaivitch at Moscow, and so on. -Think of the Cheka and all that, before you -talk of disloyalty, my little wood pigeon.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span> (<span class="italic">sneering</span>): And remember that even -if I am a dying man with heart disease and -paralysis, I’ve got people in my house who -are good enough to settle the hash of a lame -hen like you, honoured Stepan Stepanovitch -Rumbunkski.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: Ah, you threaten, do you? Wait a -bit.... Ah, Little Fathers, this poison. -I’m dead again. (<span class="italic">He falls over sideways.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Irena Ivanovna</span> (<span class="italic">screaming at</span> <span class="smcap">Bougárov</span>): He’s -dead. Unnatural father. Murderer.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bougárov</span> (<span class="italic">at the top of his voice</span>): Don’t yell like -that. You inflict me with the most acute -palpitations.... I can’t see.... I’m a dead -man. (<span class="italic">He sinks back in his chair.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Irena Ivanovna</span>: Little Fathers and Mothers!... -I must escape. (<span class="italic">She drains the vodka -bottle and falls prostrate. They all lie motionless. -You think they are dead; but they are -not. Just as the light is failing they come to -life one by one and resume their dispute. The -fall of the curtain and the end of the play leave -nothing decided.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp55" id="rumbunski_ah" style="max-width: 107.125em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/rumbunski_ah.jpg" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"><p><span class="smcap">Rumbunkski</span>: Ah! Little Fathers, this poison——</p></div> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="KING_DAVID_I">KING DAVID I</h3> -</div> - -<p class="ph">(<span class="italic">An Historical Drama in the manner sometimes -attributed to the Lord Verulam.</span>)</p> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>: <span class="italic">The Welsh Hills near Criccieth. A vast -concourse of people, Druids and Burghers -among them. Flourish of trumpets. Enter</span> -<span class="smcap">King David</span>, <span class="italic">attended by</span> <span class="smcap">Alfred, Knight -of Swansea</span>, <span class="italic">and</span> <span class="smcap">Riddell of Walton Heath</span>.</p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The Knight of Swansea</span>: Gif me your attentions, -I pray you, and mark vell dese vorts. -Ve Velshman haf great traditions. Ve are -proud and ancient peoples. Some tink -perhaps ve shows too much ze pride of -race, yes? Ze fierce Celtic patriotism? But -ve are chustly proud to tink ourself descendant -of Cadvallader, cradle of Tudors, and -fine stocks of Owen Clendower, look you—Mark -den vat vorts our leader shall tell you and -observe dese rulings. (<span class="italic">He withdraws a pace.</span>)</p> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">First Druid</span>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza0"> -<div class="verse indent0">Methinks his words, though seasoned with good sense</div> -<div class="verse indent0">And aptly illustrative of our merits,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Bewray a foreign origin.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">Second Druid</span>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza0"> -<div class="verse indent20">Why, sir,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">The man’s as good a Welshman as e’er breathed!</div><p class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</p> -<div class="verse indent0">His pedigree I’ll tell you in brief space,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Identifying in so many words</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Wales with the lost ten tribes of Israel.</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Moses begat——</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">A Herald</span>: Peace Ho! Have silence there.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Voices from the Crowd</span>: Silence for David.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Other Voices</span>: Peace for the Man of Wales.</p> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">Riddell</span> (<span class="italic">aside</span>):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza0"> -<div class="verse indent0">Mark, Swansea, how impregnable he looks,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Like some proud eagle, weary of scouring the skies,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">That pauses on a lofty pinnacle</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Refashioning his pinions, whetting his beak</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Ready to swoop again.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">King David</span>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza0"> -<div class="verse indent14">Good countrymen,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">And ye, my immemorial Cymric Hills,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">I came among ye in my indecision</div> -<div class="verse indent0">To steel myself anew.</div> -<div class="verse indent14">Good countrymen,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">I have well pondered here in Criccieth</div> -<div class="verse indent0">And now have made resolve, in which I’ll pray</div> -<div class="verse indent0">A moment hence for your support; but first</div> -<div class="verse indent0">’Tis meet I should explain.</div> -<div class="verse indent14">Ye well do know</div> -<div class="verse indent0">How lately has arisen from the ranks</div> -<div class="verse indent0">A party sutler, subtle enough it seems,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Older than I, yet Younger by God’s grace,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Who seeks to take direction by the throat,</div><p class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</p> -<div class="verse indent0">Sow discord where was harmony before,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Bring ruin on the Coalition, bind</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Our fortunes, mine and yours, to Torydom,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Vex all my policies, overthrow my plans,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">And make of our political affairs</div> -<div class="verse indent0">The kind of stew the French call <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bouillabaisse</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Crowd</span> (<span class="italic">murmuring</span>): We’ll have none of -that. None of that. We’ll rise and storm -their strongholds. We’ll burn down their -castles to the ground.</p> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">King David</span>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza0"> -<div class="verse indent0">Peace, peace, my friends, and hear me out. They say</div> -<div class="verse indent0">(Insolent curs), these Younger statesmen say,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">They’d have my leadership because they know,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Perchance, that I have prowess in the field.</div> -<div class="verse indent0">But in the Council Chamber I’ll be nought,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">A thing, a cipher, ordered here and there....</div> -<div class="verse indent0">What? Shall we now on Unionists depend?</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Sue them for favours, fawn on them for smiles?</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Eat from the dish of infamy the food</div> -<div class="verse indent0">They’d grudge to give had they the giving of it?</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Not in these trousers, sirs!</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">Druids</span>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza0"> -<div class="verse indent14">Nay, never! Never!</div> -<div class="verse indent0">He’s been despitefully and most vilely used.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">King David</span>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza0"> -<div class="verse indent0">Must I go on and watch complacently</div> -<div class="verse indent0">The fairest promise turned to rottenness</div> -<div class="verse indent0">By bigots—dull, reactionary fools?</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Why, I could form a better Government</div> -<div class="verse indent0">(With Riddell’s and my faithful Swansea’s help)</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Of certain Davieses and sundry Jones,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Llewellyns a few, an Evans here and there,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">A sprinkle of the goodly Williams blood;</div> -<div class="verse indent0">And not a Chamberlain among the lot</div> -<div class="verse indent0">To dull our spirits with his laggard’s breath.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The Davieses</span> (<span class="italic">talking among themselves</span>): -There’s much in this.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Williamses</span>: Most true and notable.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Evanses</span>: Not to be lightly put aside, look -you.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">A Druid</span>: Peace, he begins again.</p> - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">King David</span>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza0"> -<div class="verse indent14">My noble friends,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">This, then, the resolution I have formed.</div> -<div class="verse indent0">I’ll back to Westminster and beard them there</div> -<div class="verse indent0">And put this Younger’s power to the test.</div> -<div class="verse indent0">If, as I think, he fall before my lance,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Why, we’ll admit them to some sort of quarter;</div> -<div class="verse indent0">But if, as may be, they resist my terms,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Then to the hustings with our banners high,</div><p class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</p> -<div class="verse indent0">Our hopes and hearts and courage higher still;</div> -<div class="verse indent0">And I, and doughty Riddell, and wise Mond,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Fisher and Greenwood, Churchill and Monro,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">And all these gallant gentlemen of ours,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Will armour up and lead our forces out</div> -<div class="verse indent0">’Gainst Bonar and his liver-hearted crew</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Of purse-proud commoners and needy peers,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">And bear them down and roll them in the dust.</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Heads shall fall right and left, Curzon’s and Chamberlain’s,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Amery’s, Baldwin’s. We’ll have Ormsby’s gore,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Young F. E.’s Birken-head and Carson’s scowl,</div> -<div class="verse indent0">Old Devonshire’s yawning mask, and Derby’s jowl;</div> -<div class="verse indent0">And Younger on a dung heap shall be thrown</div> -<div class="verse indent0">That day when David comes into his own.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="mb0"><span class="smcap">All</span>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza0"> -<div class="verse indent0">Away. Away. We’ll to the fray, amain;</div> -<div class="verse indent0">And see Welsh David cleanse the land again.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="center"> -(<span class="italic">Sound a flourish.</span> <span class="smcap">Exeunt.</span>)<br /> -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="THE_SLAYBOY_OF_THE_WESTERN">THE SLAYBOY OF THE WESTERN -WORLD</h3> -</div> - -<p class="ph">(<span class="italic">A Play in the Irish Manner.</span>)</p> - - -<div class="blockquot justify"> - -<h4 class="inline"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span></h4> -<p class="inline">—<span class="italic">A hovel by the sea at Ballycottin, near -Queenstown. Eamon, in squalid garments and -in an appropriate attitude of misery, is -crouched over the fire. Seamus Smitha is -distilling poteen by the door. Peadar Roabensôn -and the Men of Gunn (a war-like clan) -are lurking in the background. Caitilin ni -Houlihan, Bridgeen Dick, and the Widow -Markiewicz are watching Eamon with speechless -devotion. The door is flung open and -Sean de Browna bursts in.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Sean</span>: Where’s himself?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Seamus</span>: Taking a bit of sleep, maybe, if he’s -able—God help him!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Sean</span> (<span class="italic">exultantly</span>): There’s fine doings on the -sands this night, with great ships boarded -and sunk and the lads making grand talk. -Rifles and cannon we’ve taken, and munitions -would be enough for a great war.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Men of Gunn</span> (<span class="italic">murmuring appreciatively</span>): -Bully for you, Kid!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Peadar</span>: It’s himself will bless these tidings. -(<span class="italic">Addressing Eamon with conspicuous timidity</span>): -Mister, honey, he’s after saying they’ve<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> -sunk the British Navy, and captured all the -munitions in the western world.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eamon</span>: The blessing of Gunn upon those words! -(<span class="italic">Dropping his voice</span>): I say, what d’you -imagine they’ve really got?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Peadar</span> (<span class="italic">dropping his</span>): Oh, I don’t know—a few -dozen rifles, I suppose, and a couple of boxes -of S.A.A. One has to exaggerate a bit in an -Irish drama.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(<span class="italic">Enter Boûgus, claimant to the throne of -Ulster, followed by Naisi and Narsti, the sons -of Gunn.</span>)</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Boûgus</span> (<span class="italic">in bloodthirsty tones</span>): It’s taking the -arms up to the caves they are, till all’s ready -to strike the blow; and it’s fine gory heads -there’ll be, and great masses of dead bodies -that day in the six counties, and throughout -the land, so you’ll not avoid to tread on the -white upturned faces of the dead, they -lying so thick. And I’ll be king that day in -Ulster, and the black Orangemen destroyed -and vanquished.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Men of Gunn</span> (<span class="italic">with appreciation</span>): Sa-ay, -kid, that’s talking.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eamon</span>: Let you go down now, Boûgus, with -Naisi and Narsti and the men of Gunn; for -I’ve word that Cosgrave, or perhaps -Mulcahy, do be coming to Castlebar or -maybe Dundalk, and it’s there he must be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> -sent away with scorn and laughter, and maybe -a leaden bullet or two.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Men of Gunn</span> (<span class="italic">springing to their feet</span>): Easy -money. Get right after it, boys.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Boûgus</span> (<span class="italic">bursting into song</span>): Oh, Alannah, Acushla, -Asthore, Macree, Honomandhiaul!!! (<span class="italic">He -dashes out at the head of the party. Eamon -wraps himself complacently in his rags and -nods over the fire. The women continue to -regard him with speechless devotion.</span>)</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - -<div class="blockquot justify"> - -<h4 class="inline"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span></h4> -<p class="inline">—<span class="italic">A hovel by the sea at Ballyruff. The -roar of breakers almost drowns the voices of the -speakers. Enter Seamus Smitha and Peadar -hurriedly</span>.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Seamus</span>: Where’s himself?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Sean</span>: Asleep, God help him, and dreaming of -Caitilin ni Houlihan, the creature, and her -wedded to him in these coming days.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Peadar</span> (<span class="italic">roughly</span>): It’s her he can put from -his mind then, for she’s up there on the hillside -with Cosgrave and Mulcahy, and James -Craig, and they going on together with dancing -and merriment, the way would surprise the -stags for leppin’; and her that let on to be -a decent woman would marry a holy man.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bridgeen Dick</span> (<span class="italic">sharply</span>): Let yourself be holding -your tongue now, Peadar Roabensôn, with -your great noises to waken the seven sleepers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> -and he not stretched in his bed a dozen hours -to be resting after his great labours.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Boûgus</span> (<span class="italic">rushing in, followed by Naisi and Narsti</span>): -It’s destroyed we are, entirely.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eamon</span> (<span class="italic">sitting up suddenly</span>): I beg your pardon? -Did you say destroyed?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Boûgus</span>: Aye, destroyed.... She’s turned -against us, and joined the hands of Cosgrave -and James in friendship—as Deirdre, in the -days of old, did try with Conchubor and the -sons of Usna.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eamon</span> (<span class="italic">in an undertone, to one of his personal -retinue</span>): My God, what are we to do now?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Other</span> (<span class="italic">whispering</span>): You must make a speech -in Gaelic.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eamon</span> (<span class="italic">also whispering</span>): I can’t. I’ve left the -book at the Mansion House.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Other</span>: Well, you must think of something -appropriate in English, then.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Boûgus</span> (<span class="italic">keening</span>): Oh, whirra, whirra, Ochone, -Ochone. (<span class="italic">They all burst into tears.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eamon</span> (<span class="italic">as one pronouncing a curse</span>): If the sun -could have darkened to hide her shame, and -the waters of the great ocean given themselves -to wash away her faithlessness, it’s a -strange, black, arid world we’d be living in -this day. O’Connell, Parnell, Redmond, -she’s broken the heart in all of them; and -now it’s mine she’s broken, too; and it’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span> -not Cosgrave and James that she’ll spare in -the days to come.—I will go out with the -Men of Gunn....</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - -<div class="blockquot justify"> - -<h4 class="inline"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span></h4> -<p class="inline">—<span class="italic">A hovel by the sea among the Balmy -Stones of Claptrapatrick, near Ballyidiocee. -Enter</span> <span class="smcap">Seamus</span> <span class="italic">as usual</span>.</p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Seamus</span>: Where’s himself?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Sean</span>: Musha avick, how many more times will -I be telling you in this play that he’s asleep, -God help him, the holy man, and maybe -dreaming, if he’s able, of the grand goings on -there’ll be when they’re after making him -Pope and King of all the world, and he a -scraggy, thin, weakly man would put you -in mind of an old hen, or maybe a worn-out -jackass to be taken from the shafts and -turned away among the roots and grasses -to die.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Peadar</span>: Sure, I’m thinking that’s not what -he’d be dreaming at all, but the great joy -of making combats and running here and -there in high spirits, with the Men of Gunn -around him.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eamon</span> (<span class="italic">mournfully</span>): The heart’s broke in me, -Seamus Smitha, for it’s all put aside and -finished now, and there’s no more doings I -can contrive; and there’s nothing left but -to go back, the way we came, among the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> -Bohunks and Dagoes, and die in a little dirty -state in the hind end of America.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Widow Markiewicz</span> (<span class="italic">scornfully</span>): And isn’t -there land called England over across a -dirty bit of water would hardly wet your -boots to cross it; where do be fine houses, -and gold ornaments, and a stupid uncomplaining -people to govern, and a crazy Parliament -over it all is calling for ever on the -Mother of God to send an alternative -Government?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Men of Gunn</span>: Gee whiz!!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Widow</span>: How do you say, Eamon! -Will you take this country and people and -make a new Ireland there; and be leaving -the North and the South to slit the throats -on each other?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eamon</span> (<span class="italic">in a great voice</span>): I’ll do it, so.... -And won’t it be the fine adventure to hold -it over the heads of Cosgrave and Mulcahy, -when I’m sitting in the seat of Lloyd George -with the Kings and Emperors and Presidents -of the world around under my feet, and -Boûgus beside me, and Naisi and Narsti on -my either hand, and the Men of Gunn holding -the fair land of England, and me Lord -of it all?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bridgeen</span>: And haven’t you the right, Mister -honey, to be sitting in that place and taking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> -your ease, and a sup of whiskey itself maybe; -for it’s you surely is destroyed by thinking -and fighting in these days in Ireland, and -where would there be your match for craft -and savagery in all the western islands?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Eamon</span>: I have so. (<span class="italic">To Naisi and Narsti</span>): -Call up the Men of Gunn, and let Boûgus be -there, and Seamus, and Sean, and Peadar -Roabensôn, and any other man would make -his future, so; and I’ll lead them out to -England, or Russia itself if need be, and split -the brainpan on Lloyd George and all of -them, and be master of the world in their -places; and so I will. (<span class="italic">They go out.</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Widow Markiewicz</span> (<span class="italic">looking after them as -they go</span>): And isn’t he the fine handsome -lad to be riding forth on a great adventure; -and he, God help him, nothing but a poor -crazy scholar, with a great savagery and -bitterness in his heart?</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span></p> - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IMPOLITICS">IMPOLITICS</h2> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="A_MEMBER_OF_PARLIAMENT">A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT</h3> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">A man</span>, or woman, who has just been -elected to Parliament may be pardoned if, -in the words of Gilbert, “the compliment -implied, inflates” him (or her) “with legitimate -pride.” It is rather difficult, when the declaration -of the poll is announced by the Returning -Officer, and you find yourself, by a swinging (or -narrow) majority, the elected representative of -some 30,000 people, to avoid a certain feeling of -pleasurable self-congratulation. For the first -time in your life you are, suddenly, the central -figure of a great demonstration. You are -astonished at your own popularity. Strangers -rush up and clasp you by the hand; bearded men -kiss you on both cheeks; you are taken in charge -by the police, to save you from being torn limb -from limb by your almost too enthusiastic friends. -And, if there is a fleeting resemblance, in the -triumphal march from the returning office to the -headquarters of your organisation, to the old-time -procession to the scaffold of a popular highwayman—a -resemblance heightened by the necessity -for making a speech on a crazy wooden erection -usually known as “the hustings,” that air of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> -spurious importance is, for the most part, effaced -next day, when you leave your constituency by -train, unrecognised and even unremarked. After -the splendours of the previous night, this anonymity -is an almost painful contrast; but there -are lower depths of abasement to be reached. -You have yet to pay your first visit to the House -of Commons.</p> - -<p>In the interval between your election and the -summoning of Parliament, you have probably to -some extent recovered your normal self-confidence. -You have doubtless secured a home near -Westminster, “to be near the House, you know.” -You may even have been interviewed by a provincial -paper. It is just possible that one of -the leaders of your party—a junior one—in the -first generous glow of the election results, may -have shaken you by the hand. Perhaps (but this -happens very rarely) the august personage who -speaks from the Front Bench in the name of your -party, may have stared you out of countenance at -Lady Broadside’s reception. You are actually -beginning to feel that you are Somebody after -all; and so you nerve yourself to make your first -visit to the scene of your future labours.</p> - -<p>Somehow, as you slink into Old Palace Yard, the -fine fervour of enthusiasm, that accompanied you -in your walk along Victoria Street, seems to have -largely abated. You cannot help secretly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> -wondering whether you will be required to produce -credentials by the doorkeeper. You visualise -a painful moment, when a gigantic functionary will -say politely, but oh so firmly, in response to your -frantic asseverations, “Very sorry, sir, but if you -can’t prove you’re a member, I can’t let you in.” -You wonder whether he will accept the evidence -of the birth certificate, and the cutting from the -“Times” announcing your victory, which you -hastily stuffed into your pocket before starting -out; or whether you had better lie in wait for -some senior member of your party, and steal in, in -his wake. And, whilst these fearful doubts are -invading your mind, you find yourself at the -entrance, and an enormous, genial, rubicund -policeman accosts you smilingly: “Good morning, -Sir! New member, Sir?”</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp50" id="new_member" style="max-width: 100.5625em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/new_member.jpg" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"><p>“New Member, Sir?”</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Down, swelling heart!</p> - -<p>You try to avoid bursting with pride; -acknowledge his salute; and walk in. But ah, -you think, the terrors are yet to come. Another -constable equally large, equally genial, touches -his hat as you pass through the swing doors, and -says: “Cloakroom on the right, sir.” “Here -at least,” you fear, “there will be a challenge.” -An attendant comes up to you. He gives you a -searching look. Your heart sinks into your boots. -“Good Heavens,” you think to yourself, “I am -in the wrong part of the building—this is probably<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> -reserved for Cabinet Ministers.” You are about -to mutter an excuse and slink away. Quite -unnecessary. He was only memorising your face. -“Name, sir?” he asks. You give it; you will never -have to do so again. Like your face and appearance, -it has been indelibly recorded for future reference. -“Your peg’s here, sir,” he says; and you find, -rather to your astonishment, that a peg has -already been reserved for you, and bears your -name. Two or three other members come in—old -members evidently, for he knows them personally. -They exchange greetings; and you think -to yourself: now where have I seen something -like this before?—Your mind, in a flash, bridges -a gulf of a quarter of a century, and takes you -back to your first day at your public school.... -“New boy, sir?” said the janitor, committing -your face and name to memory. “Mr. ——’s -house, sir? That’s your peg in that corner; -them’s the school notices under that shed, see? -You ought to read them every day; and that’s -the tuckshop the other side of the road opposite -the gates.” ... “New member, sir?” enquires -the attendant. “There’s your peg, sir; -you’ll find the Post Office at the top of the stairs -on the left of the Lobby; you ought to ask there -for the letters. Smoking-room, sir? Along the -corridor, turn to the right; and it’s on your -left-hand side.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span></p> - -<p>Truly the boy is father to the man.</p> - -<p>You leave your coat, and wander up the stairs -to the inner Lobby. You sample the thrill of -receiving your first batch of letters in the House -of Commons. You peep reverentially into the -empty Chamber—half afraid to go inside for fear -of inadvertently transgressing some rule of the -House. You would like to look at the Library -and the smoking-room; and yet you feel a certain -unwillingness to trouble the attendants with -questions. Suddenly a stranger, noticing your -irresolution, saunters up to you. “New member?” -he asks affably (as who should say “New -boy?”); and when you have admitted the soft -impeachment—“Thought so,” he continues, -“I think I knew most of the last Parliament. Care -to look round? I’ve nothing to do for an hour.”</p> - -<p>And, even as you accept, you remember how -Williams (or Brown), who afterwards grew to be -your <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">alter ego</i>, took pity on you in the old days at -Greyfriars, led you round and “put you wise”; -and, whilst your new friend is explaining the -mysteries of the Chamber—the Chair, the Cross -Benches, the Bar, the Galleries—leading you -through the Library, along the passages to the -House of Lords, and making you acquainted with -your new public school, you think with gratitude, -and some wonder, of the eternal youth of human -institutions.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="WOES_OF_THE_WHIPS">WOES OF THE WHIPS</h3> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Chief Whip of a Party is a very -august personage. He shares in the -councils of the Party leaders. He is one -of the links that bind them to the Headquarters -organisation, and the constituencies. He holds the -party together on the lines laid down by the -Leader. He keeps a watchful eye upon recalcitrants, -like a sheep-dog with wayward sheep. -He is, in fact, the Chief of Staff; and his lot -is not an unenviable one.</p> - -<p>The Junior Whips are another matter. Rebellious -members of the party who would, however, -feel some compunction about speaking their minds -to the Chief Whip, lay bare their grievances, with -embarrassing plain-spokenness, to the juniors. -The Scottish and Welsh Whips must often find -themselves like to the unfortunate victims of that -mythological giant, whose habit it was to tie the -legs of his foes to opposing fir-trees, and, releasing -the trees, divide them in twain—by reason of the -rival claims of their own particular groups of -members and of the Chief Whip himself. Needless -to say, in all parties, there is the fullest opportunity -for members to bring their point of view to the -notice of the leaders, both through the Whips -and at party meetings. But once a party decision -has been taken, it is obvious that, for the sake<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> -of the unity of the party, it is highly important -that its members should present a consolidated -front. And it is when the preconceived opinions -of individual members, or special circumstances in -their constituencies, happen to be at variance -with the general policy of the party, that the -troubles of the Junior Whips begin. They have -obviously an inclination towards those who compose -their own group, such as the Welsh members -or Scottish members; they have also their duty -towards the party as a whole—not always easily -to be reconciled. Anyone who experienced the -unenviable position of a Junior Staff Officer in one -of the feuds that habitually raged between -battalion and brigade, or between brigade and -division, during the war, will have a fairly accurate -understanding of the trials of a Junior Whip.</p> - -<p>But that is not all. The Whips are responsible -for the social side of the party as well. Sir -Augustus and Lady Broadside, let us say, offer -to arrange a reception. For some reason, limitation -of space for instance, it is not possible to -invite everybody. On the Whips falls the -invidious duty of making the selection, who shall -be asked and who not. And when this difficult -task has been performed, it is discovered that, by -an oversight, there is no record of the fact that -some new member is married—consequently -he is asked and his wife is not, with inevitable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span> -heartburnings as the result. Or, again, there -are ceremonial duties to be attended to. Members -wishing to attend the King’s Levee must have -their paths made smooth. The presentation at -Court of the wives and daughters of members -must be arranged. The Whips must expect to -be consulted, as well, on sumptuary questions, -such, for instance, as whether a member ought to -buy a levee dress, or whether it will be considered -sufficient if he avails himself of the new regulation, -and attends in evening coat and knee breeches; -and what is the most appropriate garment, -other than a white sheet, in which to make a -maiden speech.</p> - -<p>As if that was not enough, there are the -speaking arrangements to be made. It does not, -of course, follow that the list will be adhered to, -but, for the convenience of the Speaker, it is -usual for him to be furnished “through the usual -channels,” which means in other words by the -Whips, with a list of members of each party who -would like to speak in any Debate. Obviously -some selection must be made, or in a Parliament -of active politicians, such as the present, the list -of each party would be impossibly large. More -than half a dozen names for each party would be -more of a hindrance to the Speaker than a help, -because there would be no possibility of getting -them all in—seeing that the normal hours of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> -Debate are between four in the afternoon and -eleven at night—seven hours in all—and the -average duration of speeches is twenty minutes, -giving a maximum of twenty-one speakers. This -process of selection calls for tact of the highest -order. On the one hand, if the list is too full, the -Whip must not put off further volunteers in -such a manner as to discourage them. On the -other hand, he must be careful not to create the -impression that he wants them to speak always, -or they will never leave him in peace. Even the -most sensible and level-headed people are touchy -about their speaking; and the effect of a hasty -word may easily take a whole session to efface from -the mind of the person to whom it was addressed.</p> - -<p>Nor do the Whip’s duties end there. A -question suddenly arises needing instant determination. -On the one hand, the leader may make -up his mind at once as to the party attitude; in -that case the Whips must hurry round, and -communicate it to the members of the party. -On the other hand, the leader may wish to know -the feelings of his party before deciding on a -course of action; there is no opportunity for -holding a party meeting, the decision must be -taken probably within half an hour; it now -becomes the duty of the Whips to flit from -member to member, collecting opinions and -suggestions for communication to the Leader by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> -the “Chief.” Or it may be necessary to “keep -a house” for one of the back-benchers who is -“raising a question on the adjournment”; -again the busy Whips must hurry here and there -lobbying their party to make sure that forty -members will be present, to protect their colleague -against the misfortune of being “counted out.”</p> - -<p>And then, on top of all this, there is liaison with -the other parties, which in practice is more or -less reserved for the Chief Whip himself—for this -kind of work demands the delicacy of Agag. -These are the accommodations, arrangements of -business, exchange of party views, that necessarily -go on behind the scenes as a preliminary to the -set Debates—especially in connection with the -procedure of the House and the settlement of the -order of public business.</p> - -<p>There is a certain glamour in being styled a -Whip. Your name and, probably, your photograph -are published in the papers; you are given -special facilities for entertaining your fellow-members; -if your party happens to be in power, -you hold a junior office in the Treasury. The -Chief Whip, despite his responsibilities, has, on -the whole, an interesting job. He is largely concerned -with what is sometimes called the kitchen -side of politics; but his function of linking up the -Parliamentary party with the leader, calls for high -qualities; and his weight, in the determination of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> -the party programme in the conclave of leaders, -is considerable. The Junior Whips are devotees -of a high order to their party’s organisation. -Their task is a thankless one. They condemn -themselves to well-nigh Trappist vows in the -Chamber, because they are almost always at -work outside it. They place themselves at -everyone’s beck and call. They are in demand -to smooth out any difficulty that may arise.</p> - -<p>In fact, as a man once said, who was A.D.C. to -a Colonial Governor: “It’s a spittoon of a -life.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="YOUNG_MEN_AND_MAIDENS">YOUNG MEN AND “MAIDENS”</h3> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Defer</span> it as you may, upon one pretext or -another, the fatal moment will come at -last when you must make your maiden -speech. There have, it is to be supposed, been -members of Parliament of such agonising modesty -or such iron self-restraint, that they would have -been willing to pass their entire Parliamentary -lives in silence. But sooner or later, and probably -sooner than later, an aggregation of pressures—duty -to the constituency, the spur of -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">amour propre</i>, green jealousy of the triumph of X., -who so impressed the House by his speech on -the Protection of Insects Bill, the subtle encouragement -of some fair flatterer who, when X.’s -speech was discussed, eyed you archly and -murmured, “Of course <em>you</em> ...” leaving your -vanity to fill in the blanks—these, and other compelling -reasons, combine to persuade you to the -irrevocable step of giving in your name to the -Whips, after which, feeling like a man who has -made an appointment with his dentist, you slink -away and prepare for the worst.</p> - -<p>With becoming modesty, you select some -insignificant, and relatively trivial, subject—such -as World Federation, the Solar system, or -the relations of the Almighty and the Universe,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> -as affording you scope for the pronouncement -you feel it in you to make. You collect a whole -pantechnicon-load of authorities, which, when -you have read them through, are allowed to lie -piled in the darkest passages of your house for the -servants to fall over; you take a ticket for the -British Museum Library; you apply yourself to -study with all the fervour of a Bengalee competing -for an examination. And then, one or at -the most two days before the great oration is -scheduled to be delivered, your Whip says -casually, “Oh, we’ve had to change the arrangements. -We’re getting you in on the Committee -stage of the Impurities in Milk (Abolition) Bill”; -and all your labour is shown to be wasted and -vain. There are only three days left. You rush -to the Dairy Produce Association, the Institute -of Milkmaids, and the Society for the Preservation -of Cattle and Kine, from each of which you -receive an undigested mass of propaganda, disguised -in the form of scientific tracts. There is -no time to push your investigations beyond these, -so you set yourself to learn them word by word. -You come down to the House on the fatal day -primed with knowledge, with lactialities on your -lips and the milk of human kindness bubbling -from your heart—and you discover that, before -your arrival, a member of your own party, interested -in the welfare of subject populations of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> -Empire, has moved the Adjournment of the House -to draw attention to a matter of urgent and -definite public importance, namely, the refusal of -the Government to issue practising licences and -a charter of incorporation to the witch-doctors -in the U-Ba-Be district of Abeokeuta.</p> - -<p>You seek out your Whip, demanding information. -He tells you that the Government has -changed its mind about the Bill on which you -were to speak, and intends, in its place, to introduce -an Amending Act in connection with the -Acquisition of Mineral Royalties in Zanzibar, -Proclamation of 1872. Having no knowledge -whatever of Zanzibar or minerals, other than -those in bottles, and only a nodding acquaintance -with the lesser grades of royalty, you feel bound -to demur, when he suggests that you should -“give tongue” at such short notice on this -subject. Whereupon he offers you your choice -between the Protection of Herrings (Scotland) -Bill, Second Reading; the Civil Service and -Revenue Departments (grants in respect of -medical referees, destitute aliens, and port and -riparian sanitary authorities) Vote on Account; -and the Army and Air Force Annual Bill. -Smitten with despair at the prospect of the -vigils, prayer and fasting entailed in the mastery -of any one of these three subjects, and fortified -by a hazy recollection of “King Solomon’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> -Mines,” you quaveringly ask whether it would -not be possible for you to speak on the Witch -Doctors Adjournment. As your Whip has been -searching high and low for someone to do this -very thing, he almost invites you to dinner in his -relief; and hurries away with your name to the -Speaker. In due course he seeks you out in the -Library, where you are sitting, in a cold perspiration -at your own temerity, and struggling to -master a report on “Witchcraft and the Black -Arts as practised in the Continent of Africa,” -furnished through the medium of the Aborigines -Suppression Society in 1850—apparently the only -standard work on the subject. He informs you -that you will be called immediately after the -Government has replied. Your heart sinks into -your boots; a clammy sweat breaks out upon -your forehead; and you apply yourself assiduously -to the report.</p> - -<p>Just before 8.15 p.m. you stagger into the -Chamber. To your excited fancy it seems to have -grown very large. The seat on which you are -accustomed to sit, seems an immense distance -from the Speaker’s Chair. But, as the House is -practically empty, you sneak into somebody’s -corner seat, and hope for the best. The one -encouraging factor in the whole proceedings is -that, in spite of the ghastly hash that the mover -of the resolution seems to be making, the patient<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> -House is attentively listening in silence. After -all, you think, remembering your own triumphant -speeches during the election, the swing of the -words, the thrill of the audience, the storm of -applause—after all, it can’t be as difficult as all -that.... An Under-Secretary begins a half-hearted -defence of the Government. He says he -is quite certain that in this case the House will -consider that the House ought to be extremely -careful before responding to the suggestion made -by his hon. and gallant friend that the House is -at liberty to vary a former decision of that House, -as hon. members below the gangway seem to -imagine. He goes on to say, er—that the Government—er—will, -of course, be ruled—er—or perhaps -he ought to say guided—er—by the view of -the House towards—er—or with regard to the -matter—assuming that in that matter or—er—as -he would rather put it, in such questions—er—the -opinion of the House must be the governing -consideration. Furthermore, he would remind -the House, with the permission of the House, -that the House is always reluctant to set aside a -privilege won by the House in former times and -upheld on the floor of the House by statesmen -like Drigg and Bulgman with the full approval of -the House—an approval, Mr. Speaker, which, as -the House is aware, is recorded in the journals of -the House, and which he is satisfied—nay,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> -assured—that all members of the House would -pause before challenging.</p> - -<p>With this adjuration he resumes his place. -You climb tremulously to your feet. The Speaker -calls: “Mr. Wutherspoon.” And immediately -most of the people in the Chamber rise, and hurry -out, with looks of disgust and loathing. The -bustle of their exit rather takes away from the -effect of your carefully prepared opening sentences; -and your biting gibe at the expense of -the Minister seems in some mysterious way to -have lost the greater part of its sting. Those -to whom it is audible ejaculate a mirthless -“Ha, ha,” to encourage a maiden speaker, and -vanish in the wake of those members who have -already left. You wonder to yourself, in dismay, -whatever induced you to embark upon a Parliamentary -career; and at the same moment, -stumbling, quite by accident, upon some happy -phrase, you are greeted, to your astonishment, -with modified cheering. This is what you were -waiting for. You feel that Parliament is not so -insensible to your merits, as you had at first -supposed. You seize the lapel of your coat with -your left hand, and, throwing out your right in a -generous half-circle, you venture boldly upon the -great passage in your speech, beginning, “The -witch-doctors of U-Ba-Be, a humble section of our -fellow-subjects, organised, as who shall say they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> -have no right to be organised, in a society, union -or corporation, turn their eyes and lift up their -voices to this House of Commons imploring....” -Somehow, by the malignant intervention of -unhappy chance, before you have said half a -dozen words of this moving passage, a deathly -silence has fallen upon the Chamber; all eyes are -fixed upon you; you stumble and falter; and -murmured conversation at once begins. Again -you blunder on a telling phrase. Once more -you find you are being listened to. This is a -pity, because it betrays you into a touch of -self-confidence. Immediately, all around you, -faces, like flowers in the morning sun, expand -into smiling bloom. But you are getting into -your stride: you correct that mistake with a -modest remark and a deprecating movement of the -hand. Whereupon, you are cheered. You turn -with graceful assurance towards the Chair. -“Why, Mr. Speaker, the witch-doctors of U-Ba-Be,” -you begin; and you find that the Speaker, -who has a legion of duties beyond listening to the -speeches, is in earnest conversation over the arm -of the Chair with one of the Whips, or perhaps -is writing, or—and this is so disconcerting as -almost to petrify one with astonishment—he has -vacated the Chair to the Deputy-Speaker, who -wearing neither wig nor gown, is well-nigh -invisible under the mighty canopy. In the dismay<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> -of this paralysing discovery, your legs endeavour -to collapse under you. You nerve yourself for a -prodigious effort, jettison the witch-doctors into -space, and endeavour to sweep into the peroration, -so carefully prepared on the subject of World -Peace, adapted later to the Milk Bill, and now, -with suitable alterations, doing service on behalf -of the subject populations of the Empire. You -get along very nicely for about two minutes; -you feel that you are taking the House into your -arms; you carefully avoid a second glance at the -Chair, and look along the benches, warming to -your work. Alas! at that moment somebody -laughs. In all human probability his laughter had -nothing to do with anything you said. In a -feverish effort to recall your words, for purposes -of correction, you lose the sequence of ideas, and -the peroration follows the witch-doctors into the -limbo of forgotten things. You lamely thank the -House for its indulgence; and sit down covered -with ignominy and shame.</p> - -<p>Then, to your astonishment, other members -turn round, and nod to you—nods of approval. -Somebody says “Well done.” Somebody else -leans forward, and pats you on the back. One of -the leaders on the Front Bench actually turns -round and looks at you. The Whip who arranged -for your call offers words of congratulation.</p> - -<p>You congratulate yourself—on having got it over.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="FRONT_BENCHES_AND_BACK_BENCHES">FRONT BENCHES AND BACK BENCHES</h3> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Front Bench, which faces the Treasury -Box, and is located on the right of -the Speaker’s Chair, is reserved for -Ministers of the Crown. The Front Opposition -Bench, which is on the left of the Speaker’s Chair -and faces a similar box, is reserved for ex-Ministers -and Privy Councillors in opposition. What -secrets of State these massive brass-bound boxes -contain, must be a source of anxious wonder to -everyone who attends a Debate and looks down -upon them from one of the Galleries. They -look as though they are the very Holy of Holies -of the Constitution, the arcana in which repose -the mystic foundations of our greatness. You -feel that, at least, they ought to contain Doomsday -Book, the original manuscript of Magna Carta, -and the Declaration of Rights. So massive and -monumental is their appearance, so hallowed their -associations, that you would not be surprised -to discover that the special form of oath in the -House of Commons was to swear “By the -Treasury Box!” as kings of old did swear <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">par le -splendeur Dex</i>.</p> - -<p>Lovers of Stevenson will recall how, during -his stay on the Island of Apemama, having been -afflicted by influenza, and when all Western<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> -medicines had failed, he put himself in the hands -of Tembinok’s Chief Magician, who, by invoking -the deity Chench, effected a miraculous cure—so -shaking the scepticism of Stevenson that he -pursued investigations with the magician, which -culminated in the discovery that Chench occupied -a small wooden box in the Warlock’s house. -Insatiable in his desire to extend his theological -knowledge, he succeeded, after protracted bargaining, -in acquiring the tenement of the god, bore -it home in triumph, found himself, like one of -his own characters in the story of the Bottle -Imp, unable to resist the pangs of curiosity, and, -with who can guess what delicious anticipations of -the unknown, removed the lid—only to discover -three cowrie shells and a little piece of matting. -Such are the disappointments of the seeker after -truth who should bring himself to open the -Treasury boxes, for one is empty and the other -contains a cheaply bound and quite unremarkable -copy of the Bible and a couple of pieces of cardboard -bearing a certain family resemblance to -that part of the paraphernalia of the optician -that he hangs on the wall to test your sight -by—which are, in fact, copies in large letters of -the oath, the Scotch oath and the Affirmation, -required by law to be taken on signing the roll -of Parliament, and embodied in this form for the -convenience of the Clerk who administers them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span></p> - -<p>But this is a digression from the Front and -Back Benches. The two members for the City -of London, by some curious old survival, are -entitled to sit on the Front Bench of their party; -but in practice, since both Front Benches are -notoriously insufficient to accommodate all claimants -to seats, this traditional right of the City -members is only exercised on the first day of -a new Session, as who should put a barrier once -a year across a private road, to prevent the right -from lapsing. Nowadays with three large parties -in the House, the third headed by two ex-Prime -Ministers and a number of distinguished ex-Ministers -and Privy Councillors, the front bench -below the gangway, on the right of the Speaker’s -Chair, has, by the Speaker’s ruling, become a -Front Bench. Its opposite number on the left -of the Chair has no special status. By virtue -of their office, the Whips sit on the front benches -of their respective parties. All the remainder of -the House constitutes the back benches, with -the exception of the Cross-benches—which, however, -though actually within the Chamber, are, -by a fiction, outside the House, being behind the -Bar. It follows that a member may not address -the House from the Cross-benches; but since, -by way of compensation, the Members’ Galleries -on either side of the House, though outside the -Chamber, are, in fact, by a similar fiction, inside<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> -the House, a member may, and in Mr. Pemberton -Billing’s time did, address the House from these -lofty altitudes above it (if he is so fortunate as -to catch the Speaker’s eye), giving himself, in the -exercise of this privilege, the appearance of a -contemplative passenger leaning over the side -of a ship.</p> - -<p>So much for the physical difference between -the Front and Back Benches. What of the -Front and Back Benchers? The Front Bencher -is the finished product of the Parliamentary -machine. He is, to the humble majority of his -fellows, what the members of those august and -mystic societies, like “Pop” at Eton, are reputed -to be, to their less distinguished brethren. A -Front Bencher is, by tradition of the House, -entitled to catch the Speaker’s eye in preference -to any Back Bencher. He need not attend -prayers: indeed, if he values the privileges of his -order, he will be careful never to attend prayers, -but will saunter in to take his place whilst the -Speaker’s Chaplain is bowing his way backwards -down the floor of the House. He has the privilege -of putting his feet on the Table, a practice -which he not infrequently carries into his own -home—to the mingled pride of his family and -astonishment of his friends. But if the position -has these privileges to give, it has also its responsibilities. -Front Benchers must behave with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> -decorum, and that is more than is expected of -anyone else. They are the Sixth Form boys, -and must set an example.</p> - -<p>The successful Back Bencher should approach -his work in the spirit of the Lower Third. -Whilst he should not actually permit himself the -relaxation of practical joking, and would perhaps -be called to order if he shook a mouse out of his -trouser leg, like “Pater” Winton in Kipling’s -story, he has within reasonable limits of good -humour, an ample licence to make sport. One -well-known member of the House spends the -greater part of his Parliamentary time twisting -order papers into something between a spill and -a spear, which he then ostentatiously throws upon -the floor, as though he feared to encounter the -temptation of continuing to hold them. Another -is assiduous in the manufacture of paper darts, -which as yet have never been thrown.</p> - -<p>The experiences of other deliberative Assemblies -have taught the House of Commons that -Back Benchers are not to be trusted with inkwells. -This is probably the reason why there is no provision -for making notes, except upon one’s knee. -But a lot of quiet fun can be had out of raising -points of order that are not points of order, and -by the judicious organisation of a hum of conversation -to drown an opponent’s speech. Isolated -interjections, if possible foreign to the subject<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> -of the Debate, and Supplementary Questions -bearing no relation whatever to the original -question, are also amongst the legitimate weapons -of the Back Benchers. And finally, there is the -great Parliamentary instrument, the use of which -is almost entirely confined to Back Benchers, of -moving the Adjournment of the House. Where -some luckless Minister can be tripped up in -answering a question, and it can be made to -appear that the answer reveals a state of affairs -definite, urgent and of public importance, the -Speaker may be asked for leave to move the -adjournment. If leave be granted, the motion -is made, and, if supported by 40 members, is set -down for discussion at 8.15 on the same evening, -irrespective of what business has been allotted -to that hour. This, in the hands of senior Back -Benchers, can be turned to very effective account. -Junior Back Benchers are well advised to master -the use of the lesser Parliamentary weapons to -begin with.</p> - -<p>In all seriousness, there is a noticeable difference -between Front and Back Benchers, noticeable -whether you put Back Benchers on the front -benches or Front Benchers on the back benches. -Thus, in the last Parliament, Mr. Austen Chamberlain -and Mr. Lloyd George, addressing the -House from back bench corner seats, contrived -to present the appearance of Gullivers amid<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> -Lilliputian surroundings—a phenomenon largely -attributable to the Front Bench manner. Some -members of the new Government (and one or -two members of the last Government) who have -not yet attained to Front Bench dimensions, -present an equally astonishing contrast of the -opposite kind. Their painfully unsuccessful -efforts to command attention are a source -of dismay to their friends and discomfort to -their foes. The secret of successful Front -Benchery is heavy thinking, and a heavier form -of expression. His chief weapon is the polysyllable. -A Back Bencher does best to study -plain speech, the simpler the better. He may -enliven his argument with jest and flippancy. -He may controvert his opponent with a plain -denial.</p> - -<p>Woe to the leader who makes a joke. “Pas -de plaisanteries, Madame,” observed a scandalised -European monarch, to his jesting spouse: and -that is a safe rule for Front Benchers in -Debate. If a man is dull enough he can get -almost anywhere, once he has reached the Front -Bench; but ah, how difficult are the demands -upon those behind him! The speeches which -the House would fill to hear from the Front -Bench, would, with equal certainty, denude it of -all occupants, if delivered from behind. A -Front Bench speech may run half an hour, three-quarters<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> -of an hour, and even, in the case of the -leaders, an hour. No Back Bencher should -speak for more than twenty minutes, and fifteen -is better. The Front Bench speech should be -sonorous, well documented, weighty, responsible—in -fact, a pronouncement. The Back -Bench speech should be pithy, strictly to the -point, not too serious, and, above all, modest—in -the nature of a tentative expression of opinion.</p> - -<p>Fortunately Front Benchers are not always -dull—though they do their best. And Back -Benchers as a rule are far from modest.</p> - -<p>For a consequence the proceedings often provide -such a feast of good fun, that successive -Chancellors of the Exchequer have only narrowly -resisted the imposition of an Entertainment Tax. -This would be fair enough, if substantial compensation -were payable for enduring the agonies -of devastating boredom entailed by sitting -through, for instance, some of the Scot——</p> - -<p>Hush! There are too many Members of that -virile race, for such remarks to be altogether -wise.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="ORDER_ORDER">“ORDER, ORDER”</h3> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> other lands they manage things differently. -The President of the Lower House is enthroned -on a majestic dais, at the head of -a steep flight of steps; the Tribune, from which -speeches are made, is beneath him; and he -could, if he wished, bring the orator to reason, -or, if need be, to the conclusion of his discourse, -by a few steadying taps on the head with the -ivory mallet which (auctioneer-wise) is his normal -instrument for obtaining order. The mallet is -reinforced by a large muffin bell, which, in times -of distress, the President rings. And his final -means of expressing disapproval is to put on his -hat—a custom which perhaps furnishes us with -the source of the jolly old folk tale, recorded in -<cite>Grimm</cite>, of the King who used to suppress insurrections -by pulling down his hat over his eyes, -whereby cannons were fired off in all directions. -This picturesque ceremonial, far more imposing -than the procedure of the House of Commons, is -also less effective for the maintenance of order. -In the course of really closely reasoned arguments, -in those less reticent assemblies, inkwells have -been known to fly, the members have been kept -from each other’s throats only by the intervention -of the sabre-girt attendants, and the very citadel -of the President himself has been beset; whereat,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> -jangling his bell with one hand, and repulsing -his assailants with a ruler in the other, he has -resolutely maintained his hat upon his head, in -testimony of the fact that, legally speaking and -despite “the tumult and the shouting,” the -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">séance</i> has long been at an end.</p> - -<p>But in the House of Commons the powers of -the Speaker are satisfactorily real; not only has -he temporary jurisdiction over all persons within -the precincts of the Palace, he has also unassailable -power to deal with the members. He is -himself both a member and something more than -a member. He is chosen by the vote of the House; -and, once approved by the King, is vested with -supreme authority in the management of the -Commons. Should a point of procedure arise, -his decision is final. Should a question be put -of which he disapproves he may disallow it. -Should a member say that which, in the Speaker’s -opinion, should not have been said, he may order -the member to withdraw. Should his ruling be -disobeyed he may send a member out of the -Chamber. Should the defiance be persisted in, -he may suspend the member from the service -of the House, whereafter that member may not -be admitted to the precincts, until, by resolution, -the House itself has terminated his suspension. -Yet the Speaker, omnipotent though he seems, -is also the servant of the House. It was instructive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> -not long ago to hear Speaker Whitley -define his powers, in relation to the Crown, almost -in the very words used by Speaker Lenthall, well-nigh -three hundred years before: “For myself I -think my reply must be that I have no tongue -to speak in this place, but as the House is pleased -to direct me.”</p> - -<p>It must not, however, be supposed that the -Speaker exercises his functions of authority -harshly. His principal weapon, in fact, is a kind -of awful benignity. It is doubtful if there has -ever been a Speaker of the House of Commons -who maintained his position by severity; indeed, -the House of Commons, which is far from being -the unintelligent assembly one might suppose, if -one judged by the Press, would never choose a -person with whom there was the slightest risk -of friction; for the House is very jealous of the -rights of members. An indication of the kind of -results that might be produced by an assumption -of too pedagogic a heaviness, on the part of the -Chair, was given in the Debate on the Army -and Air Force Annual Bill in the last Parliament. -In the early hours of the morning, after a trying -all-night sitting, Sir Frederick Banbury, who -was temporarily in the Chair, raised his voice a -little beyond the pitch of good humour in calling -to order Mr. Lansbury, who was addressing the -House, whereat the latter bluffly retorted:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> -“You must not shout at me. Order yourself.” -Strictly speaking, Mr. Lansbury was out of order -in making this retort. He should have deferred -to the ruling of the temporary Chairman, and, -if necessary, raised the matter with the Speaker -after questions on the following day. But there -has never been in modern times a member so -jealous of the privileges of the House as Sir -Frederick Banbury. He realised that tempers, -his own perhaps included, had worn a little -frayed during the sitting; and therefore, contenting -himself by reminding the offender that -he must not challenge the decisions of the -Chair, he dexterously shepherded the discussion -into safer channels.</p> - -<p>Speaker Whitley keeps order by an unbroken -suavity of manner, a great sense of fair play and -a wise lenience towards faults committed in -error, from which it will be seen that his hold -upon the House is very largely due to the feelings -of personal affection, in addition to natural respect -and loyalty, with which he is regarded by all -members, even the most junior. He is quite -capable of administering a rebuke, but he prefers -to conquer by gentleness: that is his peculiar -quality. With Speaker Lowther it was a keen -sense of humour and, if necessary, a blasting -and ironic wit, that gave him his ascendancy. -This is not to say that Speaker Whitley is always<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> -grave; far from it. His rulings are most often -touched with humour. But it is a quiet, gentle -humour, like the man himself—the humour of -a serious man, not the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">esprit</i> of a wit. With Mr. -Speaker Peel the governing factor was a tremendous, -awe-inspiring dignity—something of -the same kind as that traditionally ascribed to -Dr. Arnold of Rugby School.</p> - -<p>It must not, indeed, be imagined that the -House of Commons never gets out of hand: -nor must it be imagined that the House of -Commons has only got out of hand since the -Labour Party grew large. The House of Commons -must always have been a troublesome body. -“Scenes” in the House have taken place right -back to the days of Oliver Cromwell; indeed, Mr. -Drinkwater in his play gave a vivid representation -of a scene in the House in those days. The very -carpets on the floor are eloquent of what took -place in former times; for the red line, down the -outer edge of the strip that borders the front -benches, is no less than a warning to members -that, in speaking, they must not put their feet -beyond it, on pain of being “out of order”: -and the purpose of this rule is to keep them from -engaging each other with their swords instead of -their tongues in the heat of Debate! There -were scenes in the House, constant scenes, in the -old Reform Bill days and in the old Irish days.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> -Mr. T. P. O’Connor still tells the dramatic story -of the expulsion of Bradlaugh, and equally -dramatic stories of the bodily removal of Irish -members. Mr. Lloyd George himself has stories -of suspension to tell. There were scenes in Parliament -just before the war—when, for instance, -Mr. McNeill threw a book at Mr. Churchill. -There were scenes in the last Parliament, as -when the four Labour members were suspended, -and on other occasions. There will inevitably be -scenes in the present Parliament; and it is -safe to say that scenes will take place so long as -the Commons shall survive.</p> - -<p>But whereas in other countries, despite the -muffin bell and the top hat, the President cannot -avoid being drawn in, in the Mother of Parliaments -the Speaker is something more than a -restraining influence, he is the embodiment of -law and order. He has behind him for the -suppression of disorder the whole power of the -State. He could fill the House of Commons -with police, and suppress disorder of any magnitude; -and if such an occasion arose, and threatened, -as it would, our whole Parliamentary -institution, the Speaker for the time being would -unhesitatingly do so. But that situation will -hardly arise. We do most things in this country -in the spirit in which we play our games. Members -know that, if they transgress the rules beyond<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> -a certain point, they will be suspended. They -know that when suspended the Speaker will sign -to the Sergeant-at-Arms and the Sergeant-at-Arms, -advancing up the floor of the House, will -require them to leave the Chamber. And -because it is part of the rules of the game that -they must do so, they will do so, in the same -spirit as they would accept the decision of the -umpire in a cricket match. So much for individuals. -And if a party—which happened once -in the last Parliament—as an organised whole, -were to make business impossible by concerted -noise, the Speaker has yet another weapon in his -armoury. Under Standing Order he may, “in -view of grave disorder,” adjourn the House -“without question put,” and give the forces of -reason time to reassert themselves.</p> - -<p>How undramatic! Yes. But the whole point -about the Speaker is that he is not a Loud-Speaker.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="LORDS_AND_COMMONS">LORDS AND COMMONS</h3> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Though</span> housed in the same building, -though separated by a mere matter of -yards of stone-flagged corridor and lobby, -no two assemblies more essentially different in -character, than the House of Commons and the -House of Peers, could easily be imagined. They -exist, it is true, for legislative purposes, the one -being complementary to the other; but when that -has been said not many points of similarity -remain. The Speaker of the Commons is enthroned -in a majestic canopied chair, dominating -the Assembly over which he rules; the Lord -Chancellor, who presides over the proceedings of -the House of Lords, squats on a monstrous -crimson cushion, like a feather-bed gone mad, -facing a yet more monstrous crimson cushion -upon which, on occasions of State, His Majesty’s -Judges sit back to back, reproducing that obsolete -formation, the hollow square, with which we won -the battle of Waterloo. The Speaker of the -Commons is so called because he so seldom -speaks—because, indeed, he is the only member of -the House who may not speak, except as the -House directs him. The Lord Chancellor, on -the other hand, may, and habitually does, indulge -in any flights of dithyrambic eloquence that -happen to surge out of his teeming brain; and,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> -though, unlike the Speaker, it does not lie with -him to determine the order in which Noble Lords -shall address the House, he might, if he chose, -monopolise the whole time with his own speeches. -Indeed, when Lord Birkenhead was Chancellor -such a happening was not regarded as....</p> - -<p>Fortunately, no such proceeding is possible in -the House of Commons, or, with a series of -stunning reports, Mr. Pringle, Commander Kenworthy -and Mr. David Kirkwood would explode -from suppressed mortification; and there are -others whose peace of mind would be seriously -impaired. But in the House of Lords they are -only too anxious to avoid speaking; indeed, the -difficulty usually seems to be, to overcome the -natural reluctance of Noble Lords to allow their -voices to be heard, in that rarefied atmosphere, -before they have reached the years of threescore -and ten, laid down by the Psalmist as the normal -span of mankind.</p> - -<p>In such circumstances of difference what -wonder that each House regards the other as a -sort of <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">lusus naturæ</i>, a freak, a giant pumpkin? -This sense of strangeness finds the extreme of its -expression, in the House of Commons, in such -outbursts as Mr. Jack Jones’s bitter expostulation -against “those marionettes,” on the occasion -when the Commons were sent for by the Lords -to hear a Commission read, and found in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> -Gilded Chamber five Lords Commissioners resplendent -in robes, seated in line; a solitary -Back Bench Bishop, and one very junior Peer, -probably a mere Baron, who, having wandered in -by mistake, sought to efface himself under the lee -of Black Rod’s box. “That,” said Mr. Jack -Jones bitterly, “is what they think of <em>Us</em>.” -Indeed, a chilling disdain is the chief characteristic -of the public attitude of the Upper towards the -Lower House—as for instance when the latter, in a -new Parliament, are haughtily bidden to “repair -to the place where you are to sit,” as though they -were fowls, “and proceed to the choice of some -proper person to be your Speaker,” as though, -without that admonition, they would choose -somebody from the neighbourhood of Leicester -Square. This well-bred contempt is repaid, in -the Commons, by veiled references to “another -place.” On this exchange of courtesies, the -Peers seem to come off best; though, when it -comes to practicalities, the positions are reversed, -as any student of the Parliament Act knows only -too well—little now remaining to the Peers of -their former legislative glory.</p> - -<p>They get it back upon the faithful Commons, in -virtue of their position in the Constitution as the -Supreme Judicial Tribunal of the kingdom, whereby -it follows that, if, under the Parliament Act, -they cannot oppose indefinitely the legislative<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> -will of the Commons, they can to some small -extent indemnify themselves, in their capacity -of final interpretative authority, after the legislation -has been passed. In practice they delegate -this function to the Law Lords, five of whom, -seated on the red benches with rickety desks in -front of them, spend interminable mornings -appraising subtle and circumlocutory arguments -addressed to them from the Bar of the House by -learned Counsel, standing at a kind of lectern, -and surrounded by their fellows eager to propound -distinctions. There is, however, nothing -to prevent any Noble Lord so minded from partaking -in this intellectual feast. Indeed, a legend -obtains of a sturdy independent Peer, jealous of -what would be called in the House of Commons -“private members’ rights,” who, for years, insisted -on attending, on these occasions, and -delivering himself of ponderous allocutions of -which no one present, himself least of all, understood -one word of the meaning. It says much -for the self-restraint of our Hereditary Nobles -that his example has not been followed in modern -times—though with Sir Frederick Banbury -elevated to the Peerage one can never be quite -sure.</p> - -<p>The House of Lords, in short, is a living -example of the utility of the unworkable, the -practicality of the impracticable, and the incredible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> -sanity of the British Constitution. By -all the rules of the game, in a Chamber composed -of more than 600 people, fully half of whom have -no serious political interests, governed apparently -by no rules of procedure, and held in check, in -fact, by nothing except tradition, the proceedings -might be expected to be those of a disorderly -rabble. In fact, 80 members is a good attendance, -and 50 is nearer the average. The speeches -are as a rule so closely reasoned, so admirably -informed and of such excellence of style, as to be -a source of never-ending envy to members of the -Commons. Such a thing as a “constituency” -speech is, of course, unknown. There are no -“dockyard” members. Nothing need be said -with a view to a general election. Nor can a -member of the Upper Chamber be imagined -making a speech, for the sake of speaking. It is -not exactly an inviting atmosphere for such an -undertaking. Imagine yourself standing up to -address a huge and almost empty chamber, -furnished with crimson benches, and tenanted -by a smattering of elderly gentlemen all staring -with polite fixity at their boots. It really looks -as though this undemocratic and almost atavistic -body, despite all its anomalies, was in practice -something of an example to its elective fellow-House, -both in the expeditious transaction of -business and in the orderliness of its proceedings.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> -Their very method of voting is indicative of their -critical keenness, their impatience with the -institutions of this world, their determination to -be satisfied with nothing less than perfection. -The form of the vote is not, as in the Commons, -“Aye” and “No,” but “Content” and “Not -Content.”</p> - -<p>Usually they are not content.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IRREVERENT_INTERVIEWS_AND">IRREVERENT INTERVIEWS AND -OTHER IRRELEVANCES</h2> - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span></p> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="WITH_LORD_BALFOUR_AT_THE">WITH LORD BALFOUR AT THE -WASHINGTON CONFERENCE</h3> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">He</span> received me with exquisite courtesy, -waved me into a chair, sank into another -himself, and sat, with folded hands and -an expression compounded of saintly refinement -and dignified composure, regarding me gravely -through limpid, untroubled eyes, protected from -the tarnishing realities of the world by horn-rimmed -spectacles. His silky, white hair gleamed -softly in the half-light. His moustache reposed -over a mouth touched with wistful sadness, but -serene and courageous. Rarely have I seen anything -more placid and self-possessed. But he -had his small irritations. I was one of them.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he began, with the faintest air of -hesitation, “yes. It’s good of you to have come—er. -Er—most obliging, I’m sure. It’s a pity -they didn’t tell me about it. You see, I’d already -arranged.... Yes—(<span class="italic">really troubled</span>)—most unfortunate! -(<span class="italic">Brightening.</span>) We might walk a -little way together. (<span class="italic">Troubled again.</span>) But perhaps -that wouldn’t suit you—no. It would? -That’s very lucky. Shall we go now?... -They’ll give me a hat, I suppose?...”</p> - -<p>We found ourselves walking down a prodigious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> -staircase, and I heard him say, “Extraordinary -buildings these American hotels! I always wonder -on what principle they’re constructed. The -groining of the roof, for instance....” Well, -to be truthful, I’m not really sure that he said -“groining,” for my mind (I confess it with -shame) was wandering speculatively among the -mysterious “them” by whom all great men are -surrounded. “They” are always lurking in the -background. “They” do all the interesting -things; but when some really unpleasant job -comes along “they” always work it off on -“him.” You can picture “them” planning -out the day. “Now,” they say, “there’s your -speech on the Irish question, your report for the -League of Nations, the article you promised to -write for the <cite>Hibbert Journal</cite>, new socks and ties, -another hat, and that awful check waistcoat you -bought to be exchanged for something quieter. -We’ll do all that. Then there’s the christening -of the Infant Princess Vodkha, and General -Thing’s funeral. You’d better take those. -They’re very important. Oh, and there’s the -Pilgrims’ dinner in the evening. You can go to -that, too. Mind you say nothing in your speech -that we shall be sorry for afterwards.” I should -like to be one of “them,” and feel that I was -really pulling my weight in the country.</p> - -<p>That, roughly, was the train of my thoughts,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> -when I remembered that an interviewer’s business -is to interview and not to acquiesce in excursions -into the by-paths of architecture. “They” -would never allow that.</p> - -<p>“—and I’ve wondered sometimes,” he was -saying, “whether the cantilever had anything to -do with it. But—but, no doubt, you can tell -me that.”</p> - -<p>“I can,” I said, “but it would take too long -to explain. Besides, the public expects me to -put my few moments with you to a better purpose -than discussing mechanics. The world is expecting -a new era to date from the Washington Conference; -and, as the chief British delegate——”</p> - -<p>“The trouble with the world,” he replied, -“is that it is perpetually expecting the millennium. -They expected it after the Congress of -Berlin. They expected it to emerge from the -Hague Peace Conference, and they got the Great -War! They expected a new Heaven and a new -Earth out of the Peace Treaty; they got the -League of Nations, which was an enormous step -forward. And because the League hasn’t revolutionised -humanity, because in the space of two -years it hasn’t yet effectively counter-checked all -the instincts and passions which man has inherited -from the anthropoid ape, they brand it as -a failure—or, at best, a half success—and turn -their eyes to Washington; and if we should not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span> -be able (and who can predict that we shall be -able?) to realise all the passionate hopes and -aspirations in their hearts, they’ll turn away from -our work in despair (however useful and practical -it may be), and they’ll go on staring into the -future, straining their sight in search of changes, -that, by their very nature, are not to be perceived; -and, because they cannot watch a kind of sensational -picture-drama of evolution unfolding -before their eyes, they will condemn each progressive -step as a futility.”</p> - -<p>“Now, in this particular case,” I began, for -he had paused dreamily.</p> - -<p>“I have always had warm feelings for America,” -he continued, inconsequently as it seemed; -“indeed, some of my earliest public speeches -were devoted—Yes? Were you about to say -anything?—were devoted to pleading for what -one might call a Pax Anglo-Americana, as something -wider than the Pax Britannica, and as a -step towards—a step towards some better understanding -between the various states of the world.”</p> - -<p>I sought to pin him down. “And is that your -expectation of the outcome of this Conference?”</p> - -<p>“I see no reason why one should not hope, -and ... and, indeed, there seems to me every -reason for believing, that our ... our discussions -and conversations will reveal sufficient of our -respective points of view to serve as a basis for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> -future negotiations, and possibly to give a broad -indication of the lines upon which a general -agreement might ultimately be reached.”</p> - -<p>I changed front swiftly. “You were in the -United States in 1917?”</p> - -<p>“In 1917, yes.”</p> - -<p>“Do you notice many changes?”</p> - -<p>“I can’t help feeling that there is a certain -popular aridity which, I should have said, was -conspicuously absent on the occasion of my last -visit. Naturally, during a war, public opinion -tends to be exuberant and ... and, indeed, at -times fluid——”</p> - -<p>“Then you think the political atmosphere of -America has become noticeably drier?”</p> - -<p>“I think you must not ask me to discuss the -politics of a friendly Power within ... within -the confines of that Power. Or, indeed, you -may ask, of course, but I feel it would be improper -to answer.”</p> - -<p>I flung myself upon him from another angle.</p> - -<p>“People in England cannot help wondering -what effect Mr. Hara’s assassination will have -on the Conference.”</p> - -<p>“I have always thought,” he replied, after a -pause, “that in a society so constituted as ours, -it is impossible that such an incident—or, or, -indeed, any incident—should be devoid of effect -and significance.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span></p> - -<p>“It might prejudice the issue?”</p> - -<p>“Conceivably. Or, on the other hand, in -certain circumstances, by drawing attention to -what is called the War Party in Japan—if such a -party exists, as to which I say nothing—it might, -in the long run, exercise quite the opposite -influence.”</p> - -<p>I tried a more direct approach. “Might I -ask what will be the policy of the British Delegation?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly. The policy of the British Delegation, -subject to the approval of His Majesty’s -Government, will be that decided upon, after -due deliberation, by the Chief Delegate in consultation -with his colleagues.”</p> - -<p>We walked on a few yards in silence—I -struggling to frame a question that he could not -evade, he with his eyes on the horizon and his -thoughts (I imagine) in another planet. To -relieve my evident distress, he said at last, -“Would you like me to say anything further?”</p> - -<p>I threw diplomacy to the winds and faced him -with savage determination. I said to myself -that I would not be trifled with.</p> - -<p>“Sir,” I cried, “we have talked for half an -hour. I think I know less of your thoughts on -this subject now than before we began. In the -name of the publicity for which I have heard you -appeal in the League of Nations, say something<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span> -specific of your hopes and fears, something to -which posterity may point a finger, saying, ‘Here -was a statesman with vision. He <em>knew</em>.’”</p> - -<p>“That,” he replied with gentle gravity, “is -a little difficult. Er—as ... as you know, I am -always unwilling to assume the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rôle</i> of prophet. -Indeed, I am not prepared to say that in the -scheme of things as I understand it—and using -... using the word in the sense that is customary -to me—that such a thing as a prophecy has any -existence at all. But I feel—yes, I feel the -necessity which you have urged upon me with—er—with—er -... so eloquently; and I am above -all things—and at all times—desirous of affording -such proper information as the public ought to -receive, upon such a topic as our present Conference, -to those whose ... whose work it is to—to -disseminate—er—such information. I see no -harm, therefore, in acceding to your request, at -the same time making it clear that, since these -issues are momentous and easily imperilled, you -must observe the ... the greatest discretion in -any use—er—in any use to which you may put -my words.”</p> - -<p>Overpowered at the apparent success of my -appeal to his better feelings, I could only bow my -thanks. The veteran statesman veiled his eyes -with their tired lids and seemed to ponder.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said at last, “subject to what I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> -have already stated, I see no reason why I should -not say that the Outlook is not ... is not as bad -as it might be. And now—yes, this is where I -must leave you. It has been a great pleasure to -speak so frankly; and I know you will be discreet. -Good-bye.”</p> - -<p>And then he left me and strolled on his way -with serene detachment. But whether the “Outlook” -to which he referred was the paper of that -name, or the prospect before the Washington -Conference, those who have read so far are as -well able to judge as I.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="WITH_MONSIEUR_BRIAND_AFTER_THE">WITH MONSIEUR BRIAND AFTER THE -WASHINGTON CONFERENCE</h3> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> great liner warped into the quay. -Hushed expectation poised itself over -the multitude. A dumpy figure, almost -incredibly small against the vastness of the ship, -appeared at the head of the accommodation -ladder, and waddled slowly down the side, followed, -at a respectful distance, by obsequious -midgets. It approached nearer, resolving itself -into a small round-shouldered man with a heavy, -pale face, distinguished eyebrows and prodigious -moustaches. His eyes were grey and meditative; -his hair a shaggy, black mane, bursting irrepressibly -from under his hat. He strode ashore, -and prostrated himself on the soil of his beloved -country.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ah, la patrie</i>,” he cried in his thrilling, -resonant voice, rising from his knees as he spoke, -and lifting his right hand in solemn invocation. -“Ah, my country, thy faithful Aristide, thy -humble servitor salutes thee. He returns, inflated -with no Imperialism, but none the less -from the depths of his heart proud to have upheld, -in thy name, before all the assembled conscience<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span> -of mankind, those principles of liberty, those -imperishable ideals of justice, of international -comity and brotherhood, that fine spirit of self-abnegation -in which it has ever been the boast -of France to lead the world. Oh, liberty, what -sacrifice would we not willingly offer in thy -behalf? Oh, freedom, where is thy source if -not in France? Oh, humanity——”</p> - -<p>I tapped him on the shoulder.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been waiting for you,” I said.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vous dites, M’sieur?</i>” he asked indignantly.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been waiting for you,” I repeated -sternly. “What do I hear that you’ve been -saying in Washington about British warships and -sardine-hunting, French submarines and botanical -expeditions, and the unknown X?”</p> - -<p>He showed his teeth in a grim smile.</p> - -<p>“The unknown X? <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Qu’est-ce que c’est ça? -M’sieur veut dire peut-être ‘La femme X’?</i>”</p> - -<p>“No evasions,” I warned him. “I am here -in the interests of the British public. They are -pained, Monsieur, pained! They know nothing -of international politics, and very little about -politicians—even their own. But they know -that, in their quiet way, they’ve grown to be -fond of your people. They see that you misunderstand -them. And it hurts them to think -that the Entente Cordiale——”</p> - -<p>He flicked his fingers impatiently.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span></p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">L’entente cordiale! Ah, M’sieu, l’entente cordiale!</i> ... -Are you understanding French?”</p> - -<p>“Not noticeably,” I confessed.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Alors!</i> Well, I shall tell you in English.... -What is it, this Entente Cordiale? <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Hein?</i> An -understanding of friends, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">n’est ce pas</i>? What the -Americans call a ‘gentleman’s agreement.’ You -make it because you trust so much, that you will -not care to have a Treaty. Well, then, but you -must trust your <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">vis-à-vis</i>. You must not put -all the bad construction on his doing. Not even -a Treaty will stand that. You cannot have -Entente, and then go on nag, nag, nag, like an old -peasant woman with the toothache. Oh, it is -impossible, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">M’sieu</i>, impossible!”</p> - -<p>“Angora?” I hinted.</p> - -<p>“Angora....” He shrugged bluffly. “Well, -yes, Angora. That is, perhaps, a pity. We are—we -are in the soup with Angora.” He passed -it off with a disarming grin. “But, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">après tout</i>, -what can you expect of Bouillon? We shall -settle all that.... And it is not Angora that -threaten our Entente, M’sieu. Ah, no! That is -a small thing. A few Kemalist do not imperil -Anglo-French relations. Pouf!...”</p> - -<p>His face grew troubled and sad.</p> - -<p>“M’sieu, you know perfectly. It is Germany. -Yes. You talk a lot of the separate peace with -Turkey. In the letter that is so; but in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> -spirit you make a separate peace with Germany. -Oh, yes. This is not epigram—it is truth. -Germany, she does not intend to pay. Perhaps -she cannot pay. I do not know. It is possible -she cannot; but you in England pretend to her -that she <em>cannot</em> pay and to us that she <em>will</em> pay. -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ménager la chèvre et le chou!</i> Is that entente -cordiale?...”</p> - -<p>“You see,” I endeavoured to explain, “this is -a subject on which there are two views in England. -One side holds that Germany can pay -something—the precise sum varies according to -the knowledge and dispassion of the thinker. -The other party contends that she can pay nothing -at all—that it would be wiser in the general -interest of Europe to cancel the whole debt; and -that view, not widely held, is gaining ground——”</p> - -<p>“At the expense of France,” he interjected -sharply. “Yes. Not at your expense, my -generous friend, but at the expense of -France.”</p> - -<p>“That,” I answered, “is partly true; but not -entirely true. Viewed in its immediate context, -it may be so; but taken in perspective, the trade -revival in Germany——”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” he cried, “<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ah, ça, M’sieu!</i> The trade -revival in Germany. And then, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">M’sieu</i>, and -then? The political revival of Germany. The -military revival of Germany. The German<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> -hegemony. Mittel Europa. <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Merci, M’sieu!</i> -And France, what of France?”</p> - -<p>“France,” I began, “is a member of the League -of Nations.”</p> - -<p>“And Germany,” he replied, “is not. And -America is not. And Russia, with her army of -two millions, is not. Thank you for your League -of Nations, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">M’sieu</i>. What will it be in ten years? -Perhaps the great co-ordinating harmoniser of -the whole world. Perhaps not. What is America -wishing since I leave Washington. They -will have a new League, with no Covenant. -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">C’est à dire</i> nothing that binds—nothing that -give security to such as France. Just a lot of -amiable pleasantry, that you interpret as you -please. Much of your Press are support them. -Do that give confidence to France?... First -we are to have the Tripartite Treaty—England, -America, France. Then that is not ratify. -And our English friends say, ‘Never mind. You -have it all in Article 10. The League of Nations -will protect you.’ Now, perhaps, the League will -follow the Tripartite Treaty. Oh, yes, I know -they say the Association will be side by side -with the League. But how can you have that? -It is a rival system. They say it will be found -upon The Hague Tribunal. Then what comes to -the International Court? It is to make of -international politics a kind of <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bouillabaisse</i>....<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span> -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Non, M’sieu!</i> I am head of a Government. I -am responsible to a nation. Do you seriously -advise me to trust in the League of -Nations?”</p> - -<p>“I advise you,” I answered, “to trust more -in ideas, and less in things. Ideas let loose in the -world cannot be destroyed. The League of -Nations is an idea—not an office at Geneva. -Civilisation is an idea; religion is an idea. What -banded the nations together for the Great War? -The strength of an idea.”</p> - -<p>“Self-preservation,” he muttered, cynically.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Monsieur le Président</i>, that is unworthy.” -(He bowed ironically at the rebuke.) “It is the -contemptible argument of the materialist. What -drew our young men to fight in 1914? Self-preservation. -Never! I doubt if half of them -knew the meaning of it. It was the conviction -that an evil thing was being done, and the belief -that it was their duty to prevent it.”</p> - -<p>“Some of your Statesmen,” he continued, as -if my remark had not been made, “are so kind as -to teach my Government his business. They -stand up in public and lecture us, warn us. Italy -go wild with rage, because some lying journalist -attribute to me what I have not said. England -and America link arms and get drunk on formulas -of disarmament, that perhaps mean nothing in -the light of science to-day. Japan disguise herself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span> -as a mandarin and go behind the scenes in -China ... and Germany and Russia look on -with sardonic satisfaction to see the isolation of -France, and prepare for the next ‘Day’! That -give one great encouragement to disarm. And -all the time to be uncertain—uncertain of one’s -friends.... You say your people, they have -love for France. <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ma foi</i>, they take a strange -method to show it!... I do not understand. -No, I do not understand.”</p> - -<p>“Must one,” I asked him, “must one always -understand? Cannot one have faith in a friendship, -tried and proved?”</p> - -<p>“You say to have faith,” he mused. “Yes, -but that is not so easy. For every belief there -must be a foundation—the rock on which the -Church is build. Where is my rock?”</p> - -<p>“The English dead,” I murmured.</p> - -<p>His voice suddenly softened.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ah, M’sieu</i>, those dead. I was forgetting.... -We have all lived at so much pressure since -the Peace, that we forget too often the fundamentals. -We live for so many such strenuous -years steeped in sentiment, that now we have a -reaction.... Those dead in their quiet graves -in the North of France—sleeping there till the -end of time.</p> - -<p>“Yes. We have been too impatient, and we -say things that we do not mean. It is not only<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> -here in France; your Ministers, too, have been -at fault. But, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">au fond</i>, it means nothing.</p> - -<p>“Listen. I shall tell you. Let us speak no -more of <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">L’Entente Cordiale</i>. It is a phrase of -politicians and tradesmen. We shall say in -future <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">La Grande Amitié</i>. It shall be—it is—a -great love between two peoples, sanctified in a -bitter struggle for a common aim.... I am -glad to have talked with you, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">M’sieu</i>. Perhaps -our conversation can be having good results.</p> - -<p>“Do not be too hasty with us. Remember, -France have much to fear on the Continent. If -we do what seem to you wrong, then be patient. -It is not perversity, always.”</p> - -<p>He clambered into the car that waited, and -drove away through the cheering ranks of his -fellow-countrymen....</p> - -<p>And I wondered.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="WITH_MR_LLOYD_GEORGE_DURING">WITH MR. LLOYD GEORGE DURING -HIS PREMIERSHIP</h3> -</div> - - -<p>“... And which of us,” he said, smiling -at me over the breakfast table, “which of us do -you wish to see?”</p> - -<p>I murmured that I did not understand—er....</p> - -<p>“A friend of yours writing in the press,” he -explained drily, “has been good enough to find -in me a second Jekyll and Hyde. Very well. -With which of us do you wish to talk—Lloyd -Jekyll or Hyde George?”</p> - -<p>“Which,” I asked cautiously, “is which?”</p> - -<p>“Both,” he replied, “are Me. Your friend -misconceives the situation. He attributes all -my political mistakes and failures to Hyde; and -the successes I attain to Jekyll. But the truth -is that between them they have always pulled -me this way and that; and most of my actions -are a compromise between their conflicting -injunctions. Hyde is still the shrewd Welsh -solicitor, who sharpened his wits from morning -to night, that Jekyll might have his opportunity. -Jekyll is still the idealist who dreamt in his youth -of Welsh Home Rule; who upheld the Boers in -his middle age because of the nobility of their -struggle against overwhelming odds; and now -in the fullness of maturity has conferred upon -Ireland the freedom she has sought for centuries.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span></p> - -<p>“But——” I interjected.</p> - -<p>He waved me aside. An inspiration had -mastered him.</p> - -<p>“The clouds of despair,” he chanted, “were -gathered over our heads. They menaced our -security, they threatened our national safety. -No avenue of peace has been left unexplored.... -The helmsman stands stark and firm, on -the crosstrees. The ship of State lurches perilously -on the ocean. The captain cons the -passage with anxious eyes, the binnacle clasped -in his hand, his belaying-pin beside him. Mountainous -billows tower above us. The hour is -dark. The time is nigh. Shipwreck, despite all -our efforts, appears inevitable.... But faith, -like a little child, steals in with the dawn; and -the splendour of the sunlight, bursting upon the -immemorial hills, floods the valleys with limpid -rapture, and bathes all nature in joy unspeakable. -The sheep frolic around the homestead. The -housewife plies her needle with diligent care. -And the ship of State, with its lonely pilot, worn -but triumphant on the forecastle, glides in safety -into the appointed harbour——”</p> - -<p>“This,” I protested, “is not an Eisteddfodd,” -but he ignored me.</p> - -<p>“The tempest,” he continued, “the tempest -will abate; the watchers will come down upon -the shore with gladness in their hearts; and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span> -golden glory of my native hills will shine in the -souls of men, leading them upward, and ever -toward the light.”</p> - -<p>A galvanic sweep of the arms brought this -whirlwind of speech to a conclusion. A dish of -eggs and bacon abruptly clattered on the floor. -He pushed the muffins towards me, and refilled -his teacup.</p> - -<p>“Hyde has been trying to persuade me for -some time,” he began, leaning forward confidentially, -“to go to the country on the Irish -issue. A far stronger rallying cry than ‘Hang -the Kaiser!’ and ‘Search their pockets!’ Better -even than the ‘Land fit for heroes’ and the -‘Bulging corn-bins.’ It would have been quite -easy, you know, to break off negotiations on the -question of allegiance. From the point of view -of expediency there was a lot to be said for it. -It might have swept the country. But Jekyll -refused. I think he was right.</p> - -<p>“All the same, Hyde’s a shrewd fellow. He -sees in a flash what can be turned to good account. -He prides himself on knowing what the public -wants; and he makes me give it to them. -My speech just now, for instance, would have -been immensely successful in the House of -Commons.... It—er—it didn’t seem to -appeal to you.”</p> - -<p>“It reminded me,” I replied, “if I may say<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span> -so without offence, of your Christmas message -to the <cite>Lloyd George Liberal Magazine</cite>.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” he exclaimed, “another of Hyde’s -activities. You read the magazine, then?”</p> - -<p>“Not often,” I answered.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid,” he said, “I am afraid you found -my message wanting in literary flavour.”</p> - -<p>“On the contrary, I should say its flavour -was almost too pronounced.”</p> - -<p>He smiled ruefully.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said, “you may be right—though -personally I thought one or two passages rather -fine. But, of course, Hyde ... the truth is, -the fellow has an unerring flair for political -situations; and he’s always bringing forward -these highly flavoured sentiments and fathering -them on to me, on the plea that they’re what the -public wants. And the worst of it is, he’s right. -The public likes that kind of thing.”</p> - -<p>“Not the intelligent public,” I remonstrated.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what you mean by that. If -you mean the <em>intelligentsia</em>, they don’t count -politically.... Suppose my Government fell, -what would happen? There’d be a General -Election—in which I’m afraid Hyde George -would come to the front—which I might lose. -Another Government would replace me—perhaps -Edward Grey and Bob Cecil. And then? One -of two things. Either they’d carry on in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span> -same quiet, undistinguished and often shifty -manner, as I do, balancing one interest against -another, and being satisfied with the occasional -inch of progress that one makes from time to -time; or they’d launch out in an ambitious way, -and the conflicting interests of modern society -would crush them in six months.”</p> - -<p>“Surely,” I said, “government in accordance -with principle——”</p> - -<p>“The fundamental principle of Government,” -he interrupted, “is reputed to be the consent of -the governed. But one is not always dealing -with first principles; and for practical purposes -one of the most indispensable things is the goodwill -of the Press. The Press is controlled by -capital interests. That is a consideration. The -organisation of Labour is another consideration—powerful, -though less powerful than formerly. -There is the Entente with France to maintain, -without going so far to maintain it as will offend -large numbers of people here. There is an -understanding to keep with America, and an -Alliance to modify with Japan. There is a part -to be played in the League of Nations, and that -must often inevitably conflict with the cordiality -of this country’s relations with certain countries, -that are doing us no harm but are misconducting -their relations with other countries—instances -abound. There is the question of raising revenue—who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> -is to contribute; in what proportions; -how? Every decision you make on any detail -of these subjects, is going to hit somebody hard -in the pocket, perhaps turn him out of employment.... -And you talk of principles like a -professor of mathematics considering the functions -of π. I get so tired of this unpractical -nonsense. That’s why I can’t get on with Bob -Cecil. It’s a thousand pities; for if only he’d -recognise these things and take his head out of -the clouds, he’d be invaluable at the Foreign -Office.... But to hear him talk, anyone would -think, not only that my Government was a set -of ill-balanced, self-seeking opportunists, inaccessible -to any consideration except their own profit, -but that what he calls honest government was as -simple as beggar-my-neighbour.”</p> - -<p>“You know, sir,” I interjected deferentially, -“some people can’t help feeling that a little -more adherence to principle in dealing with -Ireland would have saved——”</p> - -<p>“My dear young friend,” he said in a pitying -tone, “have you ever studied the Irish question -divorced from the rhodomontade of Ulster, and -the hysteria of the South? If you have, you’ll -see that there’s right—a lot of it—on both sides. -It would have been easy enough to apply a catchpenny -solution to Ireland—that’s what we’ve -been doing for generations, as each successive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span> -crisis occurred. Any twopenny Tory demagogue -can denounce me for not giving Ireland another -taste of Cromwell. But can you see British -troops engaged in the process? Any paltry -crank can storm at my want of faith in not -giving them a Republic long ago; but can you -see this country acquiescing in the Balkanisation -of the British Isles? And can you see the -outside world welcoming the creation of another -small State in Europe?... You’ve got to -come to solutions slowly in these matters; and -the only principle that counts, is the preservation -of the Commonwealth of Nations to which we -belong.”</p> - -<p>“And have you preserved that by your settlement?” -I asked him.</p> - -<p>“It depends,” he said gravely, “on the spirit -in which it is carried out. If neither party in -Ireland can agree, and if they will not be reconciled -to us, then we have achieved nothing. But -if,” his voice grew in volume, “if there is a -purpose in life; and if great trust breeds great -trust, as I believe; and if faith and hope are -more than words to humanity, and direct our -thoughts and inspire our bravest acts; then, -surely, this work will endure.”</p> - -<p>He raised his hand, solemnly.</p> - -<p>“Sir,” I said, “I have travelled much in our -Empire. The Dominions are my second home.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span> -Are they to be Dominions still? Or, if they -claim it, are they to become Free States also?”</p> - -<p>“It is a Dominion status,” he replied. “The -name does not matter.”</p> - -<p>“Are you sure?”</p> - -<p>“The real tie,” he answered, “must be one -of loyalty and love. It is a small matter how the -thing is called: and if those qualities are absent -you will not better it by the name of Dominion....</p> - -<p>“And now,” he said, “I’ve talked long -enough. I’ve a Cabinet Council and an interview -with the Foreign Secretary to get through -before lunch; and there are three confounded -deputations which Hyde insists on my seeing -personally. So you must go.”</p> - -<p>Wherewith he disappeared through one of the -multitude of doors surrounding his breakfast-room.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="WITH_LORD_BIRKENHEAD_ON_THE">WITH LORD BIRKENHEAD ON THE -WOOLSACK</h3> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">He</span> had thrown himself negligently into -a formidable wooden armchair. Lace -ruffles of the eighteenth century clung -round his wrists, and partly concealed his hands. -Crossed over its fellow-knee, he displayed with -pardonable ostentation a powerful calf, set on a -shapely ankle, and set off by the silken hose of -his high office. A prodigious cigar—Flor Monumento—protruded -from the corner of his mouth. -Intellectual intolerance was the distinguishing -characteristic of his face.</p> - -<p>The gentlemen ushers, marshals, petty bag -keepers, javelin men and other menials, who had -heralded me into the presence, bowed themselves -obsequiously out. I sat down nervously on the -edge of a chair. He eyed me with a freezing -compound of disdainful curiosity and disfavour. -Abashed out of countenance, I slipped out of -my hands and fell on the floor with a faint thud. -It seemed that it would only add to the solecism -if I began groping about on the floor for myself—I -made up my mind that I would let myself lie -where I had fallen, until he wasn’t looking; but, -somewhat to my surprise, he picked me up in -the most courtly manner, dusted me, and restored -me to my chair.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span></p> - -<p>“Don’t be alarmed,” he said reassuringly. -“It’s the look that does it. No witness has ever -resisted it yet. They used to curl up, and go -limp, and lean over the side of the box, when I -began my cross-examination; and it has not -lost its power.”</p> - -<p>“Have you ever tried it on Mr. Lloyd -George?” I gasped.</p> - -<p>“Once,” he replied, “only once, and that long -ago—for, you understand, it would hardly be -fitting in me to hamper and embarrass His -Majesty’s Government.”</p> - -<p>“Was it effective?”</p> - -<p>“I think I may claim that it impaired his -digestion seriously for a few days. He tried to -resist it, you see, and the after-effects in such a -case become cumulatively more powerful.... -As a matter of fact, his visit to Gairloch—well, -perhaps I’d better say nothing further. Of -course, the remainder of the Cabinet are the -merest children. I can quell Fisher or Horne -with comparative ease; I have even succeeded -in making Curzon blush; and, as you know, on a -recent occasion I overthrew poor Carson so -severely that for several days they despaired of -his reason. My castigations are notorious. Let -me warn you to take great care....”</p> - -<p>“Would it,” I began nervously, “would it fall -under the heading of incurring a castigation, if I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span> -were so presumptuous as to inquire about your -hobbies?”</p> - -<p>“By no means. A very proper question. I -am devoted to all sports. Football, cricket, -tennis, water polo, lion hunting, kiss-in-the-ring -and spillikins are among my favourites; but I -think that most of all I enjoy a quiet game of -pogo with the Cabinet.... Sing? Yes, I -sing frequently. My favourite song? I think -my favourite is that fine old ditty, ‘Rendle, My -Son.’ You are unacquainted with it?” He -broke into a prodigious baritone:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0 outdent">“Where have you been all the night, Rendle, my son?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Where have you been all the night, my pretty one?</div> - <div class="verse indent2"><span class="italic">At the O.P. Club, dear mother.</span></div> - <div class="verse indent2"><span class="italic">Make my bed soon,</span></div> - <div class="verse indent2"><span class="italic">For F. E. was there, and I fain would lie down.</span>”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“Indeed,” he continued, “I am devoted to -simple old songs of all kinds—‘Weel May the -Dail Row,’ for instance, and ‘Solly in Our Alley.’”</p> - -<p>“And now,” I ventured to say, “... I was -instructed to ask you for a Christmas message to -the public.”</p> - -<p>“If you will write something of the necessary -degree of sickliness, I’ve no objection to signing -it,” he replied. “Or wait.... It happens<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span> -that I have to deliver a judgment in the House -this afternoon, in the case of a curious old man -named Klaus against the Attorney-General for -detinue, wrongful imprisonment, and a declaration -of nationality. He has been excluded from the -country under some of the numerous regulations -of the Defence of the Realm Act, and his sack, -which appears to contain an astonishing miscellany -of objects, has been confiscated by the -Customs authorities.... Would that serve -your purpose? It will figure in the next edition -of my judgments.”</p> - -<p>“If I might hear it, perhaps....”</p> - -<p>“Certainly.” He drew a formidable case-book -from the shelf behind him, adjusted a pair of -horn spectacles, and read as follows:</p> - -<p>“In this case your lordships have been moved -to set aside a decision by the Court of Appeal, -affirming the decision of the King’s Bench, whereby -the Attorney-General, the Sheriff, and the -Justices of Lower Mudhaven were upheld in -refusing admission into this country to the -appellant, S. Klaus, a person of indubitable -ex-enemy origin, but widely esteemed in this -country, who carries on an old-established business -in many parts of the world.</p> - -<p>“It has been claimed on behalf of the appellant -that, by long use, he has acquired a prescriptive -domicile amounting to British nationality, which,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span> -since it has been enjoyed without interruption -for more than ninety years, is to be taken, by -irrebuttable presumption, as having arisen in time -immemorial, which, as we are all aware, means -from the time of Richard I. It was contended -for the Crown, that, by reason of the various -statutes and regulations prohibiting the presence -of enemies in this country during the war of -1914-1918, this user was in law interrupted, and -therefore is bad as a plea. The appellant replies -that, despite the prohibitions, he did, in fact, -continue to ply his calling here during the four -years in question; and in the Court below he -called a number of witnesses, whose credit is in -no way impeached, to depose that, to their knowledge, -at a certain season in each year, he visited -this country in order to keep his business afloat. -This is certainly a matter to which the attention -of the proper authorities ought to be drawn, for -clearly at that time the appropriate person to -have carried on his affairs was the Controller of -Enemy Businesses under the supervision of the -Public Trustee; and some inquiry seems to me to -be called for, into the neglect of that official to -carry out his duties. This, however, by the way.</p> - -<p>“Passing over the testimony of Elsie Biggers -and John Marmaduke Baxter-Cunliffe, also known -by the alias of ‘Tweety,’ both of whom depose to -having seen the appellant descend through the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span> -chimney in their respective houses a year ago, -but whose tender years—three in the first case -and two and a-half, as I believe, in the second—raise -a doubt in my mind as to their understanding -of the nature of an oath, there is unquestionable -and unimpeachable evidence of some person or -persons unknown having placed a variety of -articles in the houses, and, indeed, in the stockings, -of a number of the deponents in this cause, which -were not there before. The appellant avers that -it was he who placed them there; and, as no -alternative hypothesis has been advanced by the -Crown, I should, I think, be disposed to accept -the appellant’s word as conclusive, were it -necessary for me, in advising your lordships as to -the judgment which your lordships will shortly -deliver, to pronounce either upon one side or -upon the other in this conflict of testimony—so -far as it can be so called.</p> - -<p>“But is it necessary to go into these questions? -Mr. Attorney-General, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">arguendo</i>, has urged upon -us that, where a person performs an act of which -he is legally incapable, then it is as if the act in -question had not been performed; and he cites -the cases of a child under seven, who is <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">doli -incapax</i>, and of a child between seven and fourteen, -who is <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">prima facie doli incapax</i>, and the case of a -minor incurring a debt other than for necessaries, -and of a person who makes a will, not in due form<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span> -of law. From these premises, he contends that, -since it was illegal for the appellant to come to, or -be in, this country, it must be taken, for our purposes, -that he was never there; and the plea of -prescriptive domicile must fall to the ground.</p> - -<p>“My lords, I am unable to resist this argument. -Where a person, whether wilfully or not, steps -outside the ambit of the law, it is clearly established -that he does so at his own risk; and -ignorance will not thereafter avail him as an -excuse. I must advise your lordships to pronounce, -that, despite the evidence, the appellant -was not in this country during the war, that the -user upon which he bases his title was interrupted -during that time, and, consequently, that his -first plea must fail——”</p> - -<p>He broke off, and looked at me, quizzically.</p> - -<p>“What do you think of that reasoning?” he -asked. “Ingenious, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Hardly ingenuous though,” I murmured; -“and it seems to me——”</p> - -<p>He drew himself to his full height, and glared. -One corner of his mouth went down, and the -other rose to the level of his lower eyelid. It -was the celebrated sneer.</p> - -<p>“No doubt,” he said icily, “no doubt in the -purlieus of Tooting Bec or Brockley, whichever -you inhabit, remarks of that kind pass current as -wit. I daresay, among cannibals and anthropoid<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span> -apes, there is to be found a rough sense of coarse -buffoonery that is tickled by such vulgar exuberance; -but, among the aristocracy of an old -civilisation, your behaviour would provoke pity, -rather than mirth, were it not that, with us, the -impudence of a scavenger is accounted a more -noxious thing than his trade——”</p> - -<p>“Really,” I began, “I must protest——”</p> - -<p>“What? Argument?” he cried harshly. He -smote a bell. An old and trembling man doddered -into the room. He pointed dramatically.</p> - -<p>“Remove it,” he ordered.... I judged it -best to remove myself.</p> - -<p>And as I walked away along the corridor the -notes of “Rendle, My Son” floated after me. -Only at that distance I could not be quite sure -that the name was Rendle.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="OLD_TORY">OLD TORY</h3> -</div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry cpoetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">Spurn</span> the Liberals: do not love them,</div> - <div class="verse indent28">Son o’ mine.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">We are very much above them,</div> - <div class="verse indent28">Son o’ mine.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But we want to rule the nation;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">So, for mere self-preservation,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">We will steal their legislation,</div> - <div class="verse indent28">Son o’ mine.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Never trust the Labour Party,</div> - <div class="verse indent28">Son o’ mine.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">They’re as wicked as Astarte,</div> - <div class="verse indent28">Son o’ mine.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And the voter is a noodle;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">So we’ll win on <em>this</em> flapdoodle—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">“They will strip you of your boodle,”</div> - <div class="verse indent28">Son o’ mine.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">When we’ve carried all before us,</div> - <div class="verse indent28">Son o’ mine.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">We will praise ourselves in chorus,</div> - <div class="verse indent28">Son o’ mine.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">We’ll acclaim ourselves as sages,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">We’ll do all our jobs by stages,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And we’ll hang things up for ages,</div> - <div class="verse indent28">Son o’ mine.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span></p> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="EDWARD_AND_EUSTACE">EDWARD AND EUSTACE</h3> -</div> - -<p class="ph"><span class="italic">A Tale with a Moral.</span></p> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry cpoetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">Oh</span>, uncle, why is Mister Wood</div> - <div class="verse indent0">So unequivocally good?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And, in the name of mercy,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Why does his comrade look so riled,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">So rigid and unreconciled,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">So stern of purpose?</div> - <div class="verse indent22">Hush, my child,</div> - <div class="verse indent4"><em>That</em> is Lord Eustace Percy.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">A most exemplary young man,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A blameless Sabbatarian—</div> - <div class="verse indent4">By happy dispensation,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">They used to rule, E. Wood and he,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In absolute authority,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That singular corroboree,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">The Board of Education.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Far otherwise it might have been</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But for Lord Younger’s dread machine.</div> - <div class="verse indent4">A Premier, less discerning,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Might have set up, in Fisher’s chair,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Some pedagogue or doctrinaire,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Instead of that illustrious pair,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">To supervise our learning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">But Providence, both wise and kind,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To British interests never blind,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span> - <div class="verse indent4">The choice adroitly guided;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Giving “effective preference”</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Over mere expert eminence,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To men of large experience</div> - <div class="verse indent4">And virtues many-sided.</div> - </div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter illowp48" id="edward_and" style="max-width: 100.3125em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/edward_and.jpg" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"><p>Edward and Eustace.</p></div></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry cpoetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">For Edward, who, in early days</div> - <div class="verse indent0">(Screened from the prying public’s gaze),</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Studied John Keble’s holy ways</div> - <div class="verse indent4">And theologic fever,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Rose to be foremost underling</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In Winston’s Great Imperial Ring;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And later had beneath his wing</div> - <div class="verse indent4">The Council of Geneva.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">While Eustace, hardy sciolist,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Was firstly a diplomatist;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And later tried his noble fist</div> - <div class="verse indent4">At something in the City;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And later still enlarged his view,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">As Honorary Chairman to</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That product of the Irish stew</div> - <div class="verse indent4">The Claims and Grants Committee.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">So both must be presumed to know</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The habits of the Esquimaux,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The properties of indigo,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">The ways of the Equator,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The secret hopes of the Malay,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The mysteries of settling-day—</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span> - <div class="verse indent0">Essentials to an educa-</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Tional administrator.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">It is unnecessary to</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Remind so wise a child as you,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">No such arrangement could pursue</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Its course, undislocated.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">People began to make a fuss;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">They said: “Two men so virtuous</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Are rarer than the platypus,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">And better separated.”</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">So Edward, calm, detached, serene,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Remained on that exalted scene,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Quaffing scholastic Hippocrene,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">In learned pastures browsing;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">While Eustace bent his nimble brains</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To joists, light-castings, sumps and drains,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In Mr. Neville Chamberlain’s</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Belated scheme of Housing.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Moral.</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry cpoetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">And if, my nephew, like E. Wood</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And Eustace, you are always good,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">You’ll study from your babyhood</div> - <div class="verse indent4">To merit estimation.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">You’ll put aside that bowie knife,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">You will eschew all forms of strife,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And earn, and keep throughout your life,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">The plaudits of the nation.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span></p> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="THE_TWO_WEDGWOODS">THE TWO WEDGWOODS</h3> -</div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry cpoetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">On</span> the Front Opposition Bench (which great statesmen adorn)</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Cheek by jowl with Mr. Asquith; J. R. Clynes and George Thorne;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Dark Ramsay of Aberavon; the learned member for Spen,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Sat jovial Josiah Wedgwood and bold Wedgwood Benn.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The toughness of salamander, and a monkey-gland vim,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The endurance and determination, both of Cromwell and Pym,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The persistence of twenty members, and the lung power of ten</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Distinguished Josiah Wedgwood and stern Wedgwood Benn.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Did a foeman pause or stumble, or to error succumb</div> - <div class="verse indent0">(What though Pringle were exhausted, and e’en Kenworthy dumb),</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Swift as the summer swallow, or the fleet prairie hen,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Out popped Josiah Wedgwood, or else Wedgwood Benn.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">From the bora of the Arctic to the rainfall of Spain,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">From the theories of Einstein to the “talks” of Frank Crane,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">There exists no place or subject, not embraced in the ken</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of omniscient Josiah Wedgwood and wise Wedgwood Benn.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Were they harsh?—They could be tender. Were they gay?—They could be grave.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Did they thunder in anger?—They could also be suave.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">They could bruise like Joseph Beckett: they could sting like cayenne,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Multifarious Josiah Wedgwood and slick Wedgwood Benn.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Which explains my sense of outrage, that this sternest of men,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Who comes (via Mr. Asquith) from a wild Highland Glen,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Should have torn from one another, by a stroke of the pen,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Jolly old Josiah Wedgwood and sad Wedgwood Benn.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter illowp47" id="jovial_josiah" style="max-width: 75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/jovial_josiah.jpg" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"><p>Jovial Josiah Wedgwood and bold Wedgwood Benn.</p></div> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="SONGS_OF_A_DIE-HARD">SONGS OF A DIE-HARD</h3> -</div> - - -<p class="center">Die-Hard.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry cpoetry"> - <div class="stanza0"> - <div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">A Die-Hard</span> is a man who only cares</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To serve his land, in speechless self-denying,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Yea, even to the Death!—provided there’s</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Some other idiot to do the dying.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center p1_5">CHORUS.</p> - -<p class="center">(Suitable to be sung at Anti-Proletarian Sunday -Schools.)</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry cpoetry"> - <div class="stanza0"> - <div class="verse indent0">Far away in sunny Alabamma,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Where the pickaninny cotton-bushes grow,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">You can flatten out a nigger with a hammer</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Or put it well across him with your toe.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That’s the way to deal with subject races</div> - <div class="verse indent0">(Subject populations kindly note!),</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Tie them up, and flog them with your braces,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Probably they haven’t got a vote.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Keep inferiors in their proper station,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Don’t allow the brutes to make a fuss.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In the many marvels of creation</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Nothing’s fit to kiss the boots of US.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</span></p> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="NURSERY_RHYME">NURSERY RHYME</h3> -</div> - -<p class="center">(For little Die-Hards.)</p> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry cpoetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">Reduction</span> of Force</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Makes Banbury <em>cross</em>!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">He’s sick of our Parliament’s vapid discourse.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">He’ll lead the Coldstreamers</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Against those blasphemers</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Who dare to treat Labour as other than schemers.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Guns in his fingers and bombs in his clo’es,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">There shall be ructions wherever he goes.</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Shout yourselves hoarse</div> - <div class="verse indent8">His views to endorse:</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4 p110 b">REDUCTION OF FORCE</div> - <div class="verse indent4 p110 b">MAKES BANBURY CROSS!!!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</span></p> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="THE_OLD_MEMBER">THE OLD MEMBER</h3> -</div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry cpoetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">I will</span> go down to the House again</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And sit—in the smoking room,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And brood, with a friend with a first-class brain,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In a state of abysmal gloom:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And all I’ll ask is a tall glass,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A pipe and a game of chess;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For the country’s gone to the dogs, my lass,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And who’s to clean up the mess?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">(<span class="italic">Fortissimo</span>)</div> - <div class="verse indent2"><span class="italic">The country’s simply going to blazes.</span></div> - <div class="verse indent2"><span class="italic">Who’s to swab up the mess?</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I will go down to the House once more</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And there—in the smoking room,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I’ll wait (with old boon-fellows three or four)</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For the sound of the bell of doom:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And all I’ll ask is a tall Whip</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To meet me on Charon’s boat,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And hurriedly whisper “We’re Ayes” (or “Noes”)</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That I may know how to vote.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">(<span class="italic">Sotto voce</span>)</div> - <div class="verse indent2"><span class="italic">I just can’t follow this modern craze</span></div> - <div class="verse indent2"><span class="italic">For understanding your vote!</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"> - -<hr class="tb" /></div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I shall come back to the House one night</div> - <div class="verse indent0">From a somewhere neighbouring tomb,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Peep in on the scene of the age-long fight,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And pass—to the smoking room:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And all I’ll ask is a tall ghost</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In the corridor’s darkling gloam,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Crying “Hats off, Strangers,” “Make way for the Speaker,”</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And (mournfully) “Who goes Home?”</div> - <div class="verse indent0">(<span class="italic">Pianissimo</span>)</div> - <div class="verse indent2"><span class="italic">The Dead troop back to the Abbey each night,</span></div> - <div class="verse indent2"><span class="italic">To the sound of that “Who goes Home?”</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<hr class="full" /> -<p class="center p90 mb3">W. H. Smith & Son, The Arden Press Stamford Street, London, S.E.I</p> - -<div class="transnote"> - -<p class="ph">Transcriber’s Note</p> - - -<p>The cover image was created by the transcriber and placed in the public -domain.</p> - -<p>The following changes were made to the text as printed:</p> - -<p>Page ix: “twin appellations of McVitie and Price” changed to “twin -appellations of McVittie and Price”</p> - -<p>4: “coordinating against the Central Planets” changed to -“co-ordinating against the Central Planets”</p> - -<p>17: “inevitably predecease this montrosity” changed to “inevitably -predecease this monstrosity”</p> - -<p>18: “Poor Count Puffendorf Seidlitz” changed to “Poor Count Puffendorff -Seidlitz”</p> - -<p>85: ““Solicitin’, you was” changed to “Solicitin’, you was”</p> - -<p>88: “A terriffic crash and splintering” changed to “A terrific crash -and splintering”</p> - -<p>118: “ante-room of a public hall at Pueblo” changed to “anteroom of a -public hall at Pueblo”</p> - -<p>125: “ACT I” added</p> - -<p>136: “The conjuror concludes” changed to “The conjurer concludes”</p> - -<p>161: “She’s turned again us” changed to “She’s turned against us”</p> - -<p>175: “the uneviable position of a Junior Staff Officer” changed to “the -unenviable position of a Junior Staff Officer”</p> - -<p>178: “The Chief Whip, despite his reponsibilities” changed to “The -Chief Whip, despite his responsibilities”</p> - -<p>196: “ink-wells have been known to fly” changed to “inkwells have been -known to fly”</p> - -<p>203: “the same building though separated by a mere matter” changed to -“the same building, though separated by a mere matter”</p> -</div> - - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNPARLIAMENTARY PAPERS AND OTHER DIVERSIONS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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