The reason for our influence is sufficiently obvious. Our great leader, James Arthur Bunting, was perhaps the most perfect butler that the world has yet seen; his magnificent presence, plummy voice, exquisite tact, and wide knowledge made him beyond price. We had other butlers whom it would have been almost equally difficult to replace. We had chefs who with a chain of marvellous dinners bound their alleged employers to their chariot-wheels. Nominally, Parliament ruled the country, but we never had any doubt who ruled Parliament.
To take but one instance, the sudden volte face of Lord Baringstoke on the Home Rule Question. This created a great sensation at the time, and various explanations were suggested to account for it. Nobody guessed the truth. The fact is that Mr. Bunting tendered his resignation.
Lord Baringstoke was much distressed. An increase of salary was immediately suggested and waved aside.
“It is not that, m’lord,” said Bunting. “It is a question of principle. Your lordship’s expressed views as to Ireland are not, if I may say so, the views of my friends and of myself. And on that subject we feel deeply. Preoccupied with that difference, if I remained, I could no longer do justice to your lordship nor to myself. My wounded and bleeding heart——”
“Oh, never mind your bleeding heart, Bunting,” said Baringstoke. “Do I understand that this is your only reason for wanting to go?”
“That is so, m’lord.”
“Then, supposing that I reconsidered my views as to Ireland and found that they were in fact the opposite of what I had previously supposed, you would remain?”
“With very great pleasure.”
“Then in that case you had better wait a few days. I’m inclined to think that everything can be arranged.”
“Very good, m’lord.”