privileged by age to be one of the defenders of my country; and though
I am prepared to yield to you, if by so doing I can save some young hero
from his fate, I wish you to clearly understand that only my sense of
duty as a public man would induce me to do any such thing.” At this he
turned his eyes dreadfully upon her graceful form still sidling towards
him, and, conscious again of that delightful scent, felt a swooning
sensation which made him lean against a lamp-post. “Spare me, madam,” he
said in a faint voice, “for my country's sake I am ready to do anything,
but I must tell you that I worship another of your sex from afar, and if
you are a woman you will not seek to make me besmirch that adoration or
imperil my chivalry.”
So saying, he threw his arms round the lamppost and closed his eyes,
expecting every moment to be drawn away against his will into a life of
vice.
A well-known voice, strangled to the pitch almost of inaudibility, said
in his ear:
“Oh, Don Pickwixote, Don Pickwixote, you will be the death of me!”
Electrified, Mr. Lavender opened his eyes, and in the dull orange rays
of the heavily shaded lamp he saw beside him no other than the writhing,
choking figure of Aurora herself. Shocked beyond measure by the mistake
he had made, Mr. Lavender threw up his hands and bolted past her through
the gateway of his garden; nor did he cease running till he had reached
his bedroom and got under the bed, so terribly was he upset. There, in
the company of Blink, he spent perhaps the most shame-stricken hours of
his existence, cursing the memory of all those bishops and novelists who
had caused him to believe that every woman in a dark street was a danger
to the State; nor could the persuasion of Mrs. Petty or Joe induce him
to come out, so that in despair they were compelled to leave him to pass
the night in this penitential position, which he did without even taking
out his teeth.
XX RECEIVES A REVELATION
Fully a week elapsed before Mr. Lavender recovered from the effects of
the night which he had spent under his bed and again took his normal
interest in the course of national affairs. That which at length tore
him from his torpid condition and refixed his imagination was an article
in one of, his journals on the League of Nations, which caused him
suddenly to perceive that this was the most important subject of the
day. Carefully extracting the address of the society who had the matter
in hand, he determined to go down forthwith and learn from their own
lips how he could best induce everybody to join them in their noble
undertaking. Shutting every window, therefore and locking Blink
carefully into his study, he set forth and took the Tube to Charing
Cross.
Arriving at the premises indicated he made his way in lifts and
corridors till he came to the name of this great world undertaking
upon the door of Room 443, and paused for a moment to recover from the
astonishment he felt that the whole building at least was not occupied
by the energies of such a prodigious association.
“Appearances, however, are deceptive,” he thought; “and from a single
grain of mustard-seed whole fields will flower.” He knocked on the door,
therefore, and receiving the reply, “Cub id,” in a female voice, he
entered a room where two young ladies with bad colds were feebly tapping
type-writers.
“Can I see the President?” asked Mr. Lavender.
“Dot at the bobent,” said one of the young ladies. “Will the Secretary
do?”
“Yes,” replied Mr. Lavender “for I seek information.”
The young ladies indulged in secret confabulation, from which the
perpetual word “He” alone escaped to Mr. Lavender's ears.
Then one of them slipped into an inner room, leaving behind her a
powerful trail of eucalyptus. She came back almost directly, saying, “Go
id.”
The room which Mr Lavender entered contained two persons, one seated at
a bureau and the other pacing up and down and talking in a powerful bass
voice. He paused, looked at Mr. Lavender from under bushy brows, and at
once went on walking and talking, with a sort of added zest.
“This must be He,” thought Mr. Lavender, sitting down to listen, for
there was something about the gentleman which impressed him at once. He
had very large red ears, and hardly a hair on his head, while his full,
bearded face and prominent eyes were full of force and genius.
“It won't do a little bit, Titmarsh,” he was saying, “to allow the
politicians to meddle in this racket. We want men of genius, whose
imaginations carry them beyond the facts of the moment. This is too big
a thing for those blasted politicians. They haven't shown a sign so far
of paying attention to what I've been telling them all this time. We
must keep them out, Titmarsh. Machinery without mechanism, and a change
of heart in the world. It's very simple. A single man of genius from
each country, no pettifogging opposition, no petty prejudices.”
The other gentleman, whom Mr. Lavender took for the Secretary, and who
was leaning his head rather wearily on his hand, interjected: “Quite so!
And whom would you choose besides yourself? In France, for instance?”
He who was walking stopped a moment, again looked at Mr. Lavender
intently, and again began to speak as if he were not there.
“France?” he said. “There isn't anybody—Anatole's too old—there isn't
anybody.”
“America, then?” hazarded the Secretary.
“America!” replied the other; “they haven't got even half a man. There's
that fellow in Germany that I used to influence; but I don't know—no, I
don't think he'd be any good.”
“D'Annunzio, surely——” began the Secretary.
“D'Annunzio? My God! D'Annunzio! No! There's nobody in Italy or
Holland—she's as bankrupt as Spain; and there's not a cat in Austria.
Russia might, perhaps, give us someone, but I can't at the moment think
of him. No, Titmarsh, it's difficult.”
Mr. Lavender had been growing more and more excited at each word he
overheard, for a scheme of really stupendous proportions was shaping
itself within him. He suddenly rose, and said: “I have an idea.”
The Secretary sat up as if he had received a Faradic shock, and he who
was walking up and down stood still. “The deuce you have, sir,” he said.
“Yes,” cried Mr. Lavender and in concentration and marvellous
simplicity, “it has, I am sure, never been surpassed. It is clear to me,
sir, that you, and you alone, must be this League of Nations. For if it
is entirely in your hands there will be no delay. The plan will spring
full fledged from the head of Jove, and this great and beneficial change
in the lot of mankind will at once become an accomplished fact. There
will be no need for keeping in touch with human nature, no call for
patience and all that laborious upbuilding stone by stone which is so
apt to discourage mankind and imperil the fruition of great reforms. No,
sir; you—you must be this League, and we will all work to the end that
tomorrow at latest there may be perfected this crowning achievement of
the human species.”
The gentleman, who had commenced to walk again, looked furtively from
Mr. Lavender to the Secretary, and said:
“By Jingo! some idea!”
“Yes,” cried Mr. Lavender, entranced that his grand notion should be
at once accepted; “for it is only men like you who can both soaringly
conceive and immediately concrete in action; and, what is more, there
will be no fear of your tiring of this job and taking up another, for
you will be IT; and one cannot change oneself.”
The gentleman looked at Mr. Lavender very suddenly at the words “tiring
of this job,” and transferred his gaze to the Secretary, who had bent
his face down to his papers, and was smothering a snigger with his hand.
“Who are you, sir?” he said sharply.
“Merely one,” returned Mr. Lavender, “who wishes to do all in his power
to forward a project so fraught with beneficence to all mankind. I count
myself fortunate beyond measure to have come here this morning and found
the very Heart of the matter, the grain of mustard-seed.”
The gentleman, who had begun to walk again, here muttered words which
would have sounded like “Damned impudence” if Mr. Lavender had not been
too utterly carried away by his idea to hear them.
“I shall go forth at once,” he said, “and make known the good tidings
that the fields are sown, the League formed. Henceforth there are no
barriers between nations, and the reign of perpetual Peace is assured.
It is colossal.”
The gentleman abruptly raised his boot, but, seeming to think better of
it, lowered it again, and turned away to the window.
Mr. Lavender, having bowed to his back, went out, and, urged on by his
enthusiasm, directed his steps at once towards Trafalgar Square.
Arriving at this hub of the universe he saw that Chance was on his side,
for a meeting was already in progress, and a crowd of some forty persons
assembled round one of the lions. Owing to his appearance Mr. Lavender
was able without opposition to climb up on the plinth and join the
speaker, a woman of uncertain years. He stood there awaiting his turn
and preparing his oration, while she continued her discourse, which
seemed to be a protest against any interference with British control of
the freedom of the seas. A Union Jack happened to be leaning against the
monument, and when she had at last finished, Mr. Lavender seized it and
came forward to the edge.
“Great tidings!” he said at once, waving the flag, and without more ado
plunged into an oration, which, so far as it went, must certainly be
ranked among his masterpieces. “Great tidings, Friends! I have planted
the grain of mustard seed or, in common parlance, have just come from
the meeting which has incepted the League of Nations; and it will be my
task this morning briefly to make known to you the principles which in
future must dominate the policy of the world. Since it is for the
closer brotherhood of man and the reign of perpetual peace that we are
struggling, we must first secure the annihilation of our common enemies.
Those members of the human race whose infamies have largely placed them
beyond the pale must be eliminated once for all.”
Loud cheers greeted this utterance, and stimulated by the sound Mr.
Lavender proceeded: “What, however, must the civilized nations do when
at last they have clean sheets? In the first place, all petty prejudices
and provincial aspirations must be set aside; and though the world must
be firmly founded upon the principle of nationality it must also act as
one great people. This, my fellow-countrymen, is no mere contradiction
in terms, for though in their new solidarities each nation will be
prouder of itself, and more jealous of its good name and independence
than ever, that will not prevent its' sacrificing its inalienable rights
for the good of the whole human nation of which it is a member. Friends,
let me give you a simple illustration, which in a nutshell will make the
whole thing clear. We, here in Britain, are justly proud and tenacious
of our sea power—in the words of the poet, 'We hold all the gates of the
water.' Now it is abundantly and convincingly plain that this reinforced
principle of nationality bids us to retain and increase them, while
internationalism bids us give—them up.”
His audience—which had hitherto listened with open mouths, here closed
them, and a strident voice exclaimed:
“Give it a name, gov'nor. D'you say we ought to give up Gib?”
This word pierced Mr. Lavender, standing where he was, to the very
marrow, and he fell into such confusion of spirit that his words became
inaudible.
“My God!” he thought, appalled; “is it possible that I have not got to
the bottom of this question?” And, turning his back on the audience, he
gazed in a sort of agony at the figure of Nelson towering into the sky
above him. He was about to cry out piteously: “Countrymen, I know not
what I think. Oh! I am unhappy!” when he inadvertently stepped back over
the edge of the plinth, and, still entangled in the flag, was picked
up by two policemen and placed in a dazed condition and a deserted spot
opposite the National Gallery.
It was while he was standing there, encircled by, pigeons and forgotten
by his fellow man, that there came to him a spiritual revelation.
“Strange!” he thought; “I notice a certain inconsistency in myself, and
even in my utterances. I am two men, one of whom is me and one not me;
and the one which is not me is the one which causes me to fall into the
arms of policemen and other troubles. The one which is me loves these
pigeons, and desires to live quietly with my dog, not considering public
affairs, which, indeed, seem to be suited to persons of another sort.
Whence, then, comes the one which is not me? Can it be that it is
derived from the sayings and writings of others, and is but a spurious
spirit only meet to be outcast? Do I, to speak in the vernacular, care
any buttons whether we stick to Gibraltar or not so long as men do but
live in kindness? And if that is so, have I the right to say I do? Ought
I not, rather, to be true to my private self and leave the course of
public affairs to those who have louder voices and no private selves?”
The thought was extremely painful, for it seemed to disclose to
him grave inconsistency in the recent management of his life. And,
thoroughly mortified, he turned round with a view of entering the
National Gallery and soothing his spirit with art, when he was arrested
by the placard which covered it announcing which town had taken which
sum of bonds. This lighted up such a new vista of public utility that
his brain would certainly have caught fire again if one of the policemen
who had conducted him across the Square had not touched him on the arm,
and said:
“How are you now, sir?”
“I am pretty well, thank you, policeman,” replied Mr. Lavender, “and
sorry that I occasioned so much disturbance.”
“Don't mention it, sir,” answered the policeman; “you came a nasty
crump.”
“Tell me,” said Mr. Lavender, suddenly looking up into his face, “do
you consider that a man is justified in living a private life? For, as
regards my future, it is largely on your opinion that I shall act.”
The policeman, whose solid face showed traces of astonishment, answered
slowly: “As a general thing, a man's private life don't bear lookin'
into, as you know, sir.”
“I have not lived one for some time,” said Mr. Lavender.
“Well,” remarked the policeman, “if you take my advice you won't try it
a-gain. I should say you 'adn't the constitution.”
“I fear you do not catch my meaning,” returned Mr. Lavender, whose whole
body was aching from his fall; “it is my public life which tries me.”
“Well, then, I should chuck it,” said the policeman.
“Really?” murmured Mr. Lavender eagerly, “would you?”
“Why not?” said the policeman.
So excited was Mr. Lavender by this independent confirmation of his
sudden longing that he took out half a crown.
“You will oblige me greatly,” he said, “by accepting this as a token of
my gratitude.”
“Well, sir, I'll humour you,” answered the policeman; “though it was
no trouble, I'm sure; you're as light as a feather. Goin' anywhere in
particular?” he added.
“Yes,” said Mr. Lavender, rather faintly, “the Tube Station.”
“Come along with me, then.”
Mr. Lavender went along, not sorry to have the protection of that
stalwart form, for his nerve was shaken, not so much by physical
suffering as by the revelation he had received.
“If you'll take my tip, sir,” said the policeman, parting from him, “you
won't try no private life again; you don't look strong.”
“Thank you, policeman,” said Mr. Lavender musingly; “it is kind of you
to take an interest in me. Good-bye!”
Safely seated in the Tube for Hampstead he continued the painful
struggle of his meditations. “If, indeed,” he thought, “as a public
man I do more harm than good, I am prepared to sacrifice all for my
country's sake and retire into private life. But the policeman said that
would be dangerous for me. What, then, is left? To live neither a public
nor a private life!”
This thought, at once painful and heroic, began to take such hold of him
that he arrived at his house in a high fever of the brain.
XXI AND ASCENDS TO PARADISE
Now when Mr. Lavender once slept over an idea it became so strong that
no power on earth could prevent his putting it into execution, and all
night long he kept Blink awake by tramping up and down his bedroom and
planning the details of such a retirement as would meet his unfortunate
case. For at once he perceived that to retire from both his lives
without making the whole world know of it would be tantamount to
not retiring. “Only by a public act,” he thought, “of so striking a
character that nobody can miss it can I bring the moral home to all
public and private men.” And a hundred schemes swarmed like ants in his
brain. Nor was it till the cock crew that one adequate to this final
occasion occurred to him.
“It will want very careful handling,” he thought, “for otherwise I shall
be prevented, and perhaps even arrested in the middle, which will be
both painful and ridiculous. So sublime, however, was his idea that he
shed many tears over it, and often paused in his tramping to regard the
unconscious Blink with streaming eyes. All the next day he went about
the house and heath taking a last look at objects which had been dear,
and at mealtimes ate and drank even less than usual, absorbed by
the pathos of his coming renunciation. He determined to make his
preparations for the final act during the night, when Mrs. Petty would
be prevented by Joe's snoring from hearing the necessary sounds; and at
supper he undertook the delicate and harrowing task of saying good-bye
to, his devoted housekeeper without letting her know that he, was doing
it.
“Mrs—Petty,” he said, trifling with a morsel of cheese, “it is useless
to disguise, from you that I may be going a journey, and I feel that
I shall not be able to part from all the care you have, bestowed on me
without recording in words my heartfelt appreciation of your devotion. I
shall miss it, I shall miss it terribly, if, that is, I am permitted to
miss anything.”
Mrs. Petty, whose mind instantly ran to his bed socks, answered: “Don't
you worry, sir; I won't forget them. But wherever are you going now?”
“Ah!” said Mr. Lavender subtly, “it is all in the air at present; but
now that the lime-trees are beginning to smell a certain restlessness is
upon me, and you may see some change in my proceedings. Whatever happens
to me, however, I commit my dear Blink to your care; feed her as if she
were myself, and love her as if she were Joe, for it is largely on food
and affection that dogs depend for happiness.
“Why, good gracious, sir,” said Mrs. Petty, “you talk as if you were
going for a month of Sundays. Are you thinking of Eastbourne?”
Mr. Lavender sighed deeply at that word, for the memory of a town where
he had spent many happy days added to the gentle melancholy of his
feelings on this last evening.
“As regards that I shall not inform you at present; for, indeed, I am
by no means certain what my destination will be. Largely speaking, no
pub—public man,” he stammered, doubtful whether he was any longer that,
“knows where he will be going to-morrow. Sufficient unto the day are the
intentions in his head.
“Well, sir,” said Mrs. Petty frankly, “you can't go anywhere without Joe
or me, that's flat.”
Mr. Lavender smiled.
“Dear Mrs. Petty,” he murmured, “there are sacrifices one cannot demand
even of the most faithful friends. But,” he went on with calculated
playfulness, “we need not consider that point until the day after
to-morrow at least, for I have much to do in the meantime.”
Reassured by those words and the knowledge that Mr. Lavender's plans
seldom remained the same for more than two days, Mrs. Petty tossed her
head slightly and went to the door. “Well, it is a mystery, I'm sure,”
she said.
“I should like to see Joe,” said Mr. Lavender, with a lingering look at
his devoted housekeeper.
“The beauty!” muttered Mrs. Petty; “I'll send him,” and withdrew.
Giving the morsel of cheese to Blink, who, indeed, had eaten practically
the whole of this last meal, Mr. Lavender took the moon-cat on his
shoulder, and abandoned himself for a moment to the caresses of his two
favourites.
“Blink,” he said in a voice which trembled slightly, “be good to this
moon-cat while I am away; and if I am longer than you expect, darling,
do not be unhappy. Perhaps some day you will rejoin me; and even if we
are not destined to meet again, I would not, in the fashion of cruel
men, wish to hinder your second marriage, or to stand in the way of your
happy forgetfulness of me. Be as light-hearted as you can, my dear, and
wear no mourning for your master.”
So saying, he flung his arms round her, and embraced her warmly,
inhaling with the most poignant emotion her sheep-like odour. He was
still engaged with her when the door was opened, and Joe came in.
“Joe,” said Mr. Lavender resolutely, “sit down and light your pipe. You
will find a bottle of pre-war port in the sideboard. Open it, and,
drink my health; indeed, I myself will drink it too, for it may give
me courage. We have been good friends, Joe,” he went on while Joe
was drawing the cork, “and have participated in pleasant and sharp
adventures. I have called you in at this moment, which may some day seem
to you rather solemn, partly to shake your hand and partly to resume the
discussion on public men which we held some days ago, if you remember.”
“Ah!” said Joe, with his habitual insouciance, “when I told you that
they give me the 'ump.”
“Yes, what abaht it, sir? 'Ave they been sayin' anything particular
vicious?” His face flying up just then with the cork which he was
extracting encountered the expression on Mr. Lavender's visage, and he
added: “Don't take wot I say to 'eart, sir; try as you like you'll never
be a public man.”
Those words, which seemed to Mr. Lavender to seal his doom, caused a
faint pink flush to invade his cheeks.
“No,” continued Joe, pouring out the wine; “you 'aven't got the brass
in times like these. I dare say you've noticed, sir, that the times
is favourable for bringing out the spots on the body politic. 'Ere's
'ealth!”
“Joe,” said Mr. Lavender, raising the glass to his lips with solemnity,
“I wish you a most happy and prosperous life. Let us drink to all those
qualities which make you par excellence one of that great race, the best
hearted in the world, which never thinks of to-morrow, never knows when
it is beaten, and seldom loses its sense of humour.
“Ah!” returned Joe enigmatically, half-closing one of his greenish eyes,
and laying the glass to one side of his reddish nose. Then, with a quick
movement, he swallowed its contents and refilled it before Mr. Lavender
had succeeded in absorbing more than a drop.
“I don't say,” he continued, “but what there's a class o' public man
that's got its uses, like the little 'un that keeps us all alive, or
the perfect English gentleman what did his job, and told nobody nothin'
abaht it. You can 'ave confidence in a man like that——that's why 'e's
gone an' retired; 'e's civilized, you see, the finished article; but all
this raw material, this 'get-on' or 'get-out' lot, that's come from
'oo knows where, well, I wish they'd stayed there with their
tell-you-how-to-do-it and their 'ymns of 'ate.”
“Joe,” said Mr. Lavender, “are you certain that therein does not speak
the snob inherent in the national bosom? Are you not unconsciously
paying deference to the word gentleman?”
“Why not, sir?” replied Joe, tossing off his second glass. “It'd be
a fine thing for the country if we was all gentlemen—straight, an' a
little bit stupid, and 'ad 'alf a thought for others.” And he refilled
his master's glass. “I don't measure a gentleman by 'is money, or 'is
title, not even by 'is clothes—I measure 'im by whether he can stand
'avin' power in 'is 'ands without gettin' unscrupled or swollen 'eaded,
an' whether 'e can do what he thinks right without payin' attention,
to clamour. But, mind you, 'e's got to 'ave right thoughts too, and a
feelin' 'eart. 'Ere's luck, sir.”
Mr. Lavender, who, absorbed in his chauffeur's sentiments, had now drunk
two glasses, rose from his, chair, and clutching his hair said: “I will
not conceal from you, Joe, that I have always assumed every public man
came up to that standard, at least.”
“Crikey said Joe. 'Ave you really, sir? My Gawd! Got any use for the
rest of this bottle?”
“No, Joe, no. I shall never have use for a bottle again.”
“In that case I might as well,” said Joe, pouring what remained into
a tumbler and drinking it off. “Is there any other topic you'd like to
mention? If I can 'ave any influence on you, I shall be very glad.”
“Thank you, Joe,” returned Mr. Lavender, “what I have most need of at
this moment is solitude and your good wishes. And will you kindly take
Blink away, and when she has had her run, place her in my bedroom, with
the window closed. Good-night, Joe. Call me late tomorrow morning.
“Certainly, sir. Good-night, sir.”
“Good-night, Joe. Shake hands.”