He waved me aside. An inspiration had mastered him.
“The clouds of despair,” he chanted, “were gathered over our heads. They menaced our security, they threatened our national safety. No avenue of peace has been left unexplored.... The helmsman stands stark and firm, on the crosstrees. The ship of State lurches perilously on the ocean. The captain cons the passage with anxious eyes, the binnacle clasped in his hand, his belaying-pin beside him. Mountainous billows tower above us. The hour is dark. The time is nigh. Shipwreck, despite all our efforts, appears inevitable.... But faith, like a little child, steals in with the dawn; and the splendour of the sunlight, bursting upon the immemorial hills, floods the valleys with limpid rapture, and bathes all nature in joy unspeakable. The sheep frolic around the homestead. The housewife plies her needle with diligent care. And the ship of State, with its lonely pilot, worn but triumphant on the forecastle, glides in safety into the appointed harbour——”
“This,” I protested, “is not an Eisteddfodd,” but he ignored me.
“The tempest,” he continued, “the tempest will abate; the watchers will come down upon the shore with gladness in their hearts; and the golden glory of my native hills will shine in the souls of men, leading them upward, and ever toward the light.”
A galvanic sweep of the arms brought this whirlwind of speech to a conclusion. A dish of eggs and bacon abruptly clattered on the floor. He pushed the muffins towards me, and refilled his teacup.
“Hyde has been trying to persuade me for some time,” he began, leaning forward confidentially, “to go to the country on the Irish issue. A far stronger rallying cry than ‘Hang the Kaiser!’ and ‘Search their pockets!’ Better even than the ‘Land fit for heroes’ and the ‘Bulging corn-bins.’ It would have been quite easy, you know, to break off negotiations on the question of allegiance. From the point of view of expediency there was a lot to be said for it. It might have swept the country. But Jekyll refused. I think he was right.
“All the same, Hyde’s a shrewd fellow. He sees in a flash what can be turned to good account. He prides himself on knowing what the public wants; and he makes me give it to them. My speech just now, for instance, would have been immensely successful in the House of Commons.... It—er—it didn’t seem to appeal to you.”
“It reminded me,” I replied, “if I may say so without offence, of your Christmas message to the Lloyd George Liberal Magazine.”
“Ah!” he exclaimed, “another of Hyde’s activities. You read the magazine, then?”
“Not often,” I answered.