by John Buchan
V
I conceive that the drug did not create new opinions, but elicitedthose which had hitherto lain dormant. Every man has a creed, but inhis soul he knows that that creed has another side, possibly not lesslogical, which it does not suit him to produce. Our most honestconvictions are not the children of pure reason, but of temperament,environment, necessity, and interest. Most of us take sides in lifeand forget the one we reject. But our conscience tells us it is there,and we can on occasion state it with a fairness and fulness whichproves that it is not wholly repellent to our reason. During thecrisis I write of, the attitude of Cargill and Vennard was not that ofroysterers out for irresponsible mischief. They were eminentlyreasonable and wonderfully logical, and in private conversation theygave their opponents a very bad time. Cargill, who had hitherto beenthe hope of the extreme Free-traders, wrote an article for theQuarterly on Tariff Reform. It was set up, but long before it could beused it was cancelled and the type scattered. I have seen a proof ofit, however, and I confess I have never read a more brilliant defenceof a doctrine which the author had hitherto described as a childishheresy. Which proves my contention--that Cargill all along knew thatthere was a case against Free Trade, but naturally did not choose toadmit it, his allegiance being vowed elsewhere. The drug alteredtemperament, and with it the creed which is based mainly ontemperament. It scattered current convictions, roused dormantspeculations, and without damaging the reason switched it on to a newtrack.
I can see all this now, but at the time I saw only stark madness andthe horrible ingenuity of the lunatic. While Vennard was ruminating onhis Bill, Cargill was going about London arguing like a Scotchundergraduate. The Prime Minister had seen from the start that theHome Secretary was the worse danger. Vennard might talk of hispreposterous Bill, but the Cabinet would have something to say to itbefore its introduction, and he was mercifully disinclined to go nearSt. Stephen's. But Cargill was assiduous in his attendance at theHouse, and at any moment might blow the Government sky-high. Hiscolleagues were detailed in relays to watch him. One would hale him toluncheon, and keep him till question time was over. Another wouldinsist on taking him for a motor ride, which would end in a break-downabout Brentford. Invitations to dinner were showered upon him, andCargill, who had been unknown in society, found the whole socialmachinery of his party set at work to make him a lion. The result wasthat he was prevented from speaking in public, but given far too muchencouragement to talk in private. He talked incessantly, before, at,and after dinner, and he did enormous harm. He was horribly clever,too, and usually got the best of an argument, so that various eminentprivate Liberals had their tempers ruined by his dialectic. In hisrich and unabashed accent--he had long discarded hisEdinburgh-English--he dissected their arguments and ridiculed theircharacter. He had once been famous for his soapy manners: now he wasas rough as a Highland stot.
Things could not go on in this fashion: the risk was too great. Itwas just a fortnight, I think, after the Caerlaverock dinner-party,when the Prime Minister resolved to bring matters to a head. He couldnot afford to wait for ever on a return of sanity. He consultedCaerlaverock, and it was agreed that Vennard and Cargill should beasked, or rather commanded to dine on the following evening atCaerlaverock House. Mulross, whose sanity was not suspected, and whoseankle was now well again, was also invited, as were three other membersof the Cabinet and myself as amicus curiae. It was understood thatafter dinner there would be a settling-up with the two rebels. Eitherthey should recant and come to heel, or they should depart from thefold to swell the wolf-pack of the Opposition. The Prime Minister didnot conceal the loss which his party would suffer, but he argued verysensibly that anything was better than a brace of vipers in its bosom.
I have never attended a more lugubrious function. When I arrived Ifound Caerlaverock, the Prime Minister, and the three other members ofthe Cabinet standing round a small fire in attitudes of nervousdejection. I remember it was a raw wet evening, but the gloom out ofdoors was sunshine compared to the gloom within. Caerlaverock'sviceregal air had sadly altered. The Prime Minister, once famous forhis genial manners, was pallid and preoccupied. We exchanged remarksabout the weather and the duration of the session. Then we fell silenttill Mulross arrived.
He did not look as if he had come from a sickbed. He came in as jauntyas a boy, limping just a little from his accident. He was greeted byhis colleagues with tender solicitude,--solicitude, I fear, completelywasted on him.
"Devilish silly thing to do to get run over," he said. "I was in abrown study when a cab came round a corner. But I don't regret it, youknow. During the last fortnight I have had leisure to go into thisBosnian Succession business, and I see now that Von Kladow has beenplaying one big game of bluff. Very well; it has got to stop. I amgoing to prick the bubble before I am many days older."
The Prime Minister looked anxious. "Our policy towards Bosnia has beenone of non-interference. It is not for us, I should have thought, toread Germany a lesson."
"Oh, come now," Mulross said, slapping--yes, actually slapping--hisleader on the back; "we may drop that nonsense when we are alone. Youknow very well that there are limits to our game of non-interference.If we don't read Germany a lesson, she will read us one--and a damnedlong unpleasant one too. The sooner we give up all this milk-blooded,blue-spectacled, pacificist talk the better. However, you will seewhat I have got to say to-morrow in the House."
The Prime Minister's face lengthened. Mulross was not the pillar hehad thought him, but a splintering reed. I saw that he agreed with methat this was the most dangerous of the lot.
Then Cargill and Vennard came in together. Both looking uncommonlyfit, younger, trimmer, cleaner. Vennard, instead of his sloppy clothesand shaggy hair, was groomed like a Guardsman; had a largepearl-and-diamond solitaire in his shirt, and a white waistcoat withjewelled buttons. He had lost all his self-consciousness, grinnedcheerfully at the others, warmed his hands at the fire, and cursed theweather. Cargill, too, had lost his sanctimonious look. There was abloom of rustic health on his cheek, and a sparkle in his eye, so thathe had the appearance of some rosy Scotch laird of Raeburn's painting.Both men wore an air of purpose and contentment.
Vennard turned at once on the Prime Minister. "Did you get my letter?"he asked. "No? Well, you'll find it waiting when you get home. We'reall friends here, so I can tell you its contents. We must get rid ofthis ridiculous Radical 'tail.' They think they have the whip-hand ofus; well, we have got to prove that we can do very well without them.They are a collection of confounded, treacherous, complacent prigs, butthey have no grit in them, and will come to heel if we tackle themfirmly. I respect an honest fanatic, but I do not respect thosesentiment-mongers. They have the impudence to say that the country iswith them. I tell you it is rank nonsense. If you take a strong handwith them, you'll double your popularity, and we'll come back nextyear with an increased majority. Cargill agrees with me."
The Prime Minister looked grave. "I am not prepared to discuss anypolicy of ostracism. What you call our 'tail' is a vital section ofour party. Their creed may be one-sided, but it is none the less partof our mandate from the people."
"I want a leader who governs as well as reigns," said Vennard. "Ibelieve in discipline, and you know as well as I do that the Rump isinfernally out of hand."
"They are not the only members who fail in discipline."
Vennard grinned. "I suppose you mean Cargill and myself. But we arefollowing the central lines of British policy. We are on your side,and we want to make your task easier."
Cargill suddenly began to laugh. "I don't want any ostracism. Leavethem alone, and Vennard and I will undertake to give them such a timein the House that they will wish they had never been born. We'll makethem resign in batches."
Dinner was announced, and, laughing uproariously, the two rebels wentarm-in-arm into the dining-room.
Cargill was in tremendous form. He began to tell Scotch stories,memories of
his old Parliament House days. He told them admirably, witha raciness of idiom which I had thought beyond him. They were longtales, and some were as broad as they were long, but Mr. Cargilldisarmed criticism. His audience, rather scandalised at the start,were soon captured, and political troubles were forgotten inold-fashioned laughter. Even the Prime Minister's anxious face relaxed.
This lasted till the entree, the famous Caerlaverock curry.
As I have said, I was not in the secret, and did not detect thetransition. As I partook of the dish I remember feeling a suddengiddiness and a slight nausea. The antidote, to those who had nottaken the drug, must have been, I suppose, in the nature of a mildemetic. A mist seemed to obscure the faces of my fellow-guests, andslowly the tide of conversation ebbed away. First Vennard, thenCargill, became silent. I was feeling rather sick, and I noticed withsome satisfaction that all our faces were a little green. I wonderedcasually if I had been poisoned.
The sensation passed, but the party had changed. More especially I wassoon conscious that something had happened to the three Ministers. Inoticed Mulross particularly, for he was my neighbour. The look ofkeenness and vitality had died out of him, and suddenly he seemed arather old, rather tired man, very weary about the eyes.
I asked him if he felt seedy.
"No, not specially," he replied, "but that accident gave me a nastyshock."
"You should go off for a change," I said.
"I almost think I will," was the answer. "I had not meant to leavetown till just before the Twelth but I think I had better get away toMarienbad for a fortnight. There is nothing doing in the House, andwork at the Office is at a standstill. Yes, I fancy I'll go abroadbefore the end of the week."
I caught the Prime Minister's eye and saw that he had forgotten thepurpose of the dinner, being dimly conscious that that purpose was nowidle. Cargill and Vennard had ceased to talk like rebels. The HomeSecretary had subsided into his old, suave, phrasing self. The humourhad gone out of his eye, and the looseness had returned to his lips.He was an older and more commonplace man, but harmless, quite harmless.Vennard, too, wore a new air, or rather had recaptured his old one. Hewas saying little, but his voice had lost its crispness and recoveredits half-plaintive unction; his shoulders had a droop in them; oncemore he bristled with self-consciousness.
We others were still shaky from that detestable curry, and were sopuzzled as to be acutely uncomfortable. Relief would come later, nodoubt; for the present we were uneasy at this weird transformation. Isaw the Prime Minister examining the two faces intently, and the resultseemed to satisfy him. He sighed and looked at Caerlaverock, whosmiled and nodded.
"What about that Bill of yours, Vennard?" he asked. "There have been alot of stupid rumours."
"Bill?" Vennard said. "I know of no Bill. Now that my departmentalwork is over, I can give my whole soul to Cargill's Small Holdings. Doyou mean that?"
"Yes, of course. There was some confusion in the popular mind, but theold arrangement holds. You and Cargill will put it through betweenyou."
They began to talk about those weariful small holdings, and I ceased tolisten. We left the dining-room and drifted to the library, where afire tried to dispel the gloom of the weather. There was a feeling ofdeadly depression abroad, so that, for all its awkwardness, I wouldreally have preferred the former Caerlaverock dinner. The PrimeMinister was whispering to his host. I heard him say something aboutthere being "the devil of a lot of explaining" before him.
Vennard and Cargill came last to the library, arm-in-arm as before.
"I should count it a greater honour," Vennard was saying, "to sweetenthe lot of one toiler in England than to add a million miles to ourterritory. While one English household falls below the minimum scaleof civic wellbeing, all talk of Empire is sin and folly." "Excellent!"said Mr. Cargill. Then I knew for certain that at last peace haddescended upon the vexed tents of Israel.
