Here was to follow the full name address, and description of the candidate, with photograph attached.
This certificate was granted only to those who were already British subjects either by birth or by naturalisation of five years’ standing. No “greener” was therefore eligible, and foreign labour in Whitechapel was thereby done away with. The formula had been drawn up by Mr. Lawson Holmes, M.P., the ardent advocate of assimilation in its most thorough form. To him it seemed fair and just, and the only means of refining the Jewish element of the English nation to its due proportion. He considered that from the point of view of utilitarianism, mere sentiment must be put aside. He was not an anti-Semite, and he disagreed on many points with the Premier; he was undoubtedly a man of sound common sense.
As was to be expected, however, his formula evoked a storm of indignation in the Jewish press. Eloquent appeals to the patriotism of the race were issued and disseminated amongst the British Jews throughout the land, and meetings of protest were held despite the vigilance of the police. What People—were they ever so irresponsible—would renounce their race and religion, together with their ancient and illustrious past, at the mere word of command? The very thought of persecution was enough to make men cling to their cherished traditions with a new and greater strength. Such a result—the deepening of their peculiar unity—had been proved in the annals of history over and over again.
“I shall go and see Holmes to-night,” Montella said to his wife, as soon as he had received notice of the formula. “I cannot rest until I have made him see the absurdity of the whole thing. He used to be a friend of mine.”
“Ask him what would be his answer if he were commanded to give up his birthright as a freeborn English Christian,” advised his mother, with heat.
“But don’t make matters worse by quarrelling with him, dear,” added Patricia gently.
Montella promised to use his discretion; he was not of a fiery temperament. He met Mr. Lawson Holmes in the lobby of the House of Commons, and adjourned with him to his club. His friend insisted on dining first before entering on the subject, and Lionel consented to partake of a vegetarian repast. It was when they lingered over their wine that the Cabinet Minister began his defence. He could not help being impressed in spite of himself by Lionel’s reproachful mien.
“Now, my dear fellow, let us survey the question from an economic standpoint,” he began, as he puffed away at a cigar. “I shall proceed to dissect you metaphorically, if you have no objection?”
“None at all, so long as you leave the ego—that which is my real self—intact,” Lionel replied.
“Very well, then, let us begin.” The Minister removed his cigar from his lips, and placed it between his fingers. “First of all, I take it that you are one of the units of which the English nation is composed: that you are by birth and education an Englishman, and a subject of the King?”