Canossa

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

---

Demosthenes Platterbaff, the eminent Unrest Inducer, stood on his trialfor a serious offence, and the eyes of the political world were focussedon the jury. The offence, it should be stated, was serious for theGovernment rather than for the prisoner. He had blown up the Albert Hallon the eve of the great Liberal Federation Tango Tea, the occasion onwhich the Chancellor of the Exchequer was expected to propound his newtheory: "Do partridges spread infectious diseases?" Platterbaff hadchosen his time well; the Tango Tea had been hurriedly postponed, butthere were other political fixtures which could not be put off under anycircumstances. The day after the trial there was to be a by-election atNemesis-on-Hand, and it had been openly announced in the division that ifPlatterbaff were languishing in gaol on polling day the Governmentcandidate would be "outed" to a certainty. Unfortunately, there could beno doubt or misconception as to Platterbaff's guilt. He had not onlypleaded guilty, but had expressed his intention of repeating his escapadein other directions as soon as circumstances permitted; throughout thetrial he was busy examining a small model of the Free Trade Hall inManchester. The jury could not possibly find that the prisoner had notdeliberately and intentionally blown up the Albert Hall; the questionwas: Could they find any extenuating circumstances which would permit ofan acquittal? Of course any sentence which the law might feel compelledto inflict would be followed by an immediate pardon, but it was highlydesirable, from the Government's point of view, that the necessity forsuch an exercise of clemency should not arise. A headlong pardon, on theeve of a bye-election, with threats of a heavy voting defection if itwere withheld or even delayed, would not necessarily be a surrender, butit would look like one. Opponents would be only too ready to attributeungenerous motives. Hence the anxiety in the crowded Court, and in thelittle groups gathered round the tape-machines in Whitehall and DowningStreet and other affected centres. The jury returned from considering their verdict; there was a flutter, anexcited murmur, a deathlike hush. The foreman delivered his message: "The jury find the prisoner guilty of blowing up the Albert Hall. Thejury wish to add a rider drawing attention to the fact that a by-electionis pending in the Parliamentary division of Nemesis-on-Hand." "That, of course," said the Government Prosecutor, springing to his feet,"is equivalent to an acquittal?" "I hardly think so," said the Judge, coldly; "I feel obliged to sentencethe prisoner to a week's imprisonment." "And may the Lord have mercy on the poll," a Junior Counsel exclaimedirreverently. It was a scandalous sentence, but then the Judge was not on theMinisterial side in politics. The verdict and sentence were made known to the public at twenty minutespast five in the afternoon; at half-past five a dense crowd was massedoutside the Prime Minister's residence lustily singing, to the air of"Trelawney": "And should our Hero rot in gaol, For e'en a single day, There's Fifteen Hundred Voting Men Will vote the other way." "Fifteen hundred," said the Prime Minister, with a shudder; "it's toohorrible to think of. Our majority last time was only a thousand andseven." "The poll opens at eight to-morrow morning," said the Chief Organiser;"we must have him out by 7 a.m." "Seven-thirty," amended the Prime Minister; "we must avoid any appearanceof precipitancy." "Not later than seven-thirty, then," said the Chief Organiser; "I havepromised the agent down there that he shall be able to display postersannouncing 'Platterbaff is Out,' before the poll opens. He said it wasour only chance of getting a telegram 'Radprop is In' to-night." At half-past seven the next morning the Prime Minister and the ChiefOrganiser sat at breakfast, making a perfunctory meal, and awaiting thereturn of the Home Secretary, who had gone in person to superintend thereleasing of Platterbaff. Despite the earliness of the hour a smallcrowd had gathered in the street outside, and the horrible menacingTrelawney refrain of the "Fifteen Hundred Voting Men" came in a steady,monotonous chant. "They will cheer presently when they hear the news," said the PrimeMinister hopefully; "hark! They are booing some one now! That must beMcKenna." The Home Secretary entered the room a moment later, disaster written onhis face. "He won't go!" he exclaimed. "Won't go? Won't leave gaol?" "He won't go unless he has a brass band. He says he never has leftprison without a brass band to play him out, and he's not going to gowithout one now." "But surely that sort of thing is provided by his supporters andadmirers?" said the Prime Minister; "we can hardly be supposed to supplya released prisoner with a brass band. How on earth could we defend iton the Estimates?" "His supporters say it is up to us to provide the music," said the HomeSecretary; "they say we put him in prison, and it's our affair to seethat he leaves it in a respectable manner. Anyway, he won't go unless hehas a band." The telephone squealed shrilly; it was a trunk call from Nemesis. "Poll opens in five minutes. Is Platterbaff out yet? In Heaven's name,why--" The Chief Organiser rang off. "This is not a moment for standing on dignity," he observed bluntly;"musicians must be supplied at once. Platterbaff must have his band." "Where are you going to find the musicians?" asked the Home Secretarywearily; "we can't employ a military band, in fact, I don't think he'dhave one if we offered it, and there ain't any others. There's amusicians' strike on, I suppose you know." "Can't you get a strike permit?" asked the Organiser. "I'll try," said the Home Secretary, and went to the telephone. Eight o'clock struck. The crowd outside chanted with an increasingvolume of sound: "Will vote the other way." A telegram was brought in. It was from the central committee rooms atNemesis. "Losing twenty votes per minute," was its brief message. Ten o'clock struck. The Prime Minister, the Home Secretary, the ChiefOrganiser, and several earnest helpful friends were gathered in the innergateway of the prison, talking volubly to Demosthenes Platterbaff, whostood with folded arms and squarely planted feet, silent in their midst.Golden-tongued legislators whose eloquence had swayed the Marconi InquiryCommittee, or at any rate the greater part of it, expended their arts oforatory in vain on this stubborn unyielding man. Without a band he wouldnot go; and they had no band. A quarter past ten, half-past. A constant stream of telegraph boyspoured in through the prison gates. "Yamley's factory hands just voted you can guess how," ran a despairingmessage, and the others were all of the same tenour. Nemesis was goingthe way of Reading. "Have you any band instruments of an easy nature to play?" demanded theChief Organiser of the Prison Governor; "drums, cymbals, those sort ofthings?" "The warders have a private band of their own," said the Governor, "butof course I couldn't allow the men themselves--" "Lend us the instruments," said the Chief Organiser. One of the earnest helpful friends was a skilled performer on the cornet,the Cabinet Ministers were able to clash cymbals more or less in tune,and the Chief Organiser has some knowledge of the drum. "What tune would you prefer?" he asked Platterbaff. "The popular song of the moment," replied the Agitator after a moment'sreflection. It was a tune they had all heard hundreds of times, so there was nodifficulty in turning out a passable imitation of it. To the improvisedstrains of "I didn't want to do it" the prisoner strode forth to freedom.The word of the song had reference, it was understood, to theincarcerating Government and not to the destroyer of the Albert Hall. The seat was lost, after all, by a narrow majority. The local TradeUnionists took offence at the fact of Cabinet Ministers having personallyacted as strike-breakers, and even the release of Platterbaff failed topacify them. The seat was lost, but Ministers had scored a moral victory. They hadshown that they knew when and how to yield.

---

---