Nobody, not even the Colossus himself, had penetrated to the fact that,
in point of sheer cleverness, Slippery Sam was at that moment without
a peer in the realm. Cleverness may not be a specially high attribute,
and Mr. Williams, who was perfectly frank with himself, would have been
the first to say so, but occasions do arise when it has its uses.
One of these now occurred. Midway through the speech of this rather
simple but very gifted young man, there came the word China.
The prime minister, it seemed, had lately been paying a good deal of
attention to China. His thoughts were in this wise. “In my pocketbook
is the ukase that infernal fellow H. had the effrontery to hurl at me
the other day in his own handwriting.”
“Saint James’s Square,
“Friday afternoon
“MY DEAR W. W.:
“Send the Fleet to Peking before Japan gets in, or forfeit all claim
to thinking Imperially.
“Yours, in haste,
“S. H.”
Mr. Williams’ mind as it now reverted to China was a complex of many
things. Listening to that name of ill omen on the lips of the member
for Blackhampton, listening to the burning scorn of his words, the
prime minister suddenly remembered the giants of his youth. Above all,
he remembered Gladstone’s power of carrying not only the House, but the
country with him on a live issue.
This young man Endor, out of date as he was, a rather tragic
anachronism in that _cénacle_ sprawling, dozing and sneering around
him, was a voice from the past. He had not the ear of the House it was
true. The simple fact was, the House no longer possessed an ear; it
had no longer the power to react to style or tradition. Demosthenes
himself could not have pierced these professional hardbakes, who ran
the country on the lines of their trade-unions. The British House of
Commons was now the most soulless and vulgar of all assemblies; the U.
P. had castrated it; but the prime minister, at any rate, was still
able to recognize the divine fire.
Moreover, the flame burning in the heart of this young man, John Endor,
set him thinking.
XXX
The thoughts of Slippery Sam were after this fashion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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