VI.
The sixth and last sitting of the Inquiry upon the Fiscal (skip the rest) was remarkable in many ways, but especially for the fact that Mr. Chamberlain alone appeared.
The audience in the street outside, and the many experts and officials who were privileged to enter the court, were waiting in vain for the advent of at least the Duke of Marlborough or Mr. Austen Chamberlain, when the Colonial Secretary rose, and after remarking that he would detain them for but a very few moments, begged that they would not take alarm at the constitution of the court.
The absence of his colleagues was just the kind of thing that his more virulent opponents might put down to some difference within the Cabinet. Against malicious ignorance of that kind there was no weapon but direct contradiction. He would contradict it here and now, as he had successfully contradicted in the past his connection with the Jameson raid, the stupid story about the garden party at Lord Rothschild’s, and the legend of his having been a Free Trader and a Home Ruler, in some remote past which his enemies found it very difficult to discover. (Laughter.)
He did not think it seemly that a man should talk too much about himself. He would therefore make no allusion to the services he had rendered his country. Such as they were, they could never be more than the services of one man. A great man perhaps, a loveable man certainly, but after all, only one man.
Lord Beaconsfield had said that men imputed themselves. He was not quite clear what this meant, but,—....
(Here Mr. Chamberlain took up another little bit of paper, frowned, let drop his eye-glass, fiddled a little with his fingers, frowned again, replaced his eye-glass, and explained that he had mislaid some of his notes.)
Continuing in a more natural tone, and with far less fluency, he proceeded to give in detail the reasons for the absence of each of his colleagues.
The Prime Minister was occupied at Deptford, arguing with some Nonconformists.
