"Ministers of Grace"

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　Although he was scarcely yet out of his teens, the Duke of Scawwas already marked out as a personality widely differing fromothers of his caste and period. Not in externals; therein heconformed correctly to type. His hair was faintly reminiscent ofHoubigant, and at the other end of him his shoes exhaled the rightSOUPON of harness-room; his socks compelled one's attentionwithout losing one's respect; and his attitude in repose had justthat suggestion of Whistler's mother, so becoming in the reallyyoung. It was within that the trouble lay, if trouble it could beaccounted, which marked him apart from his fellows. The Duke wasreligious. Not in any of the ordinary senses of the word; he tooksmall heed of High Church or Evangelical standpoints, he stoodoutside of all the movements and missions and cults and crusadesof the day, uncaring and uninterested. Yet in a mystical-practical way of his own, which had served him unscathed andunshaken through the fickle years of boyhood, he was intensely andintensively religious. His family were naturally, thoughunobtrusively, distressed about it. "I am so afraid it may affecthis bridge," said his mother.The Duke sat in a pennyworth of chair in St. James's Park,listening to the pessimisms of Belturbet, who reviewed theexisting political situation from the gloomiest of standpoints."Where I think you political spade-workers are so silly," said theDuke, "is in the misdirection of your efforts. You spendthousands of pounds of money, and Heaven knows how much dynamicforce of brain power and personal energy, in trying to elect ordisplace this or that man, whereas you could gain your ends somuch more simply by making use of the men as you find them. Ifthey don't suit your purpose as they are, transform them intosomething more satisfactory.""Do you refer to hypnotic suggestion?" asked Belturbet, with theair of one who is being trifled with."Nothing of the sort. Do you understand what I mean by the verbto koepenick? That is to say, to replace an authority by aspurious imitation that would carry just as much weight for themoment as the displaced original; the advantage, of course, beingthat the koepenick replica would do what you wanted, whereas theoriginal does what seems best in its own eyes.""I suppose every public man has a double, if not two or three,"said Belturbet; "but it would be a pretty hard task to koepenick awhole bunch of them and keep the originals out of the way.""There have been instances in European history of highlysuccessful koepenickery," said the Duke dreamily."Oh, of course, there have been False Dimitris and PerkinWarbecks, who imposed on the world for a time," assentedBelturbet, "but they personated people who were dead or safely outof the way. That was a comparatively simple matter. It would befar easier to pass oneself of as dead Hannibal than as livingHaldane, for instance.""I was thinking," said the Duke, "of the most famous case of all,the angel who koepenicked King Robert of Sicily with suchbrilliant results. Just imagine what an advantage it would be tohave angels deputizing, to use a horrible but convenient word, forQuinston and Lord Hugo Sizzle, for example. How much smoother theParliamentary machine would work than at present!""Now you're talking nonsense," said Belturbet; "angels don't existnowadays, at least, not in that way, so what is the use ofdragging them into a serious discussion? It's merely silly.""If you talk to me like that I shall just DO it," said the Duke."Do what?" asked Belturbet. There were times when his youngfriend's uncanny remarks rather frightened him."I shall summon angelic forces to take over some of the moretroublesome personalities of our public life, and I shall send theousted originals into temporary retirement in suitable animalorganisms. It's not every one who would have the knowledge or thepower necessary to bring such a thing off--""Oh, stop that inane rubbish," said Belturbet angrily; "it'sgetting wearisome. Here's Quinston coming," he added, as thereapproached along the almost deserted path the well-known figure ofa young Cabinet Minister, whose personality evoked a curiousmixture of public interest and unpopularity."Hurry along, my dear man," said the young Duke to the Minister,who had given him a condescending nod; "your time is runningshort," he continued in a provocative strain; "the whole ineptcrowd of you will shortly be swept away into the world's waste-paper basket.""You poor little strawberry-leafed nonentity," said the Minister,checking himself for a moment in his stride and rolling out hiswords spasmodically; "who is going to sweep us away, I should liketo know? The voting masses are on our side, and all the abilityand administrative talent is on our side too. No power of earthor Heaven is going to move us from our place till we choose toquit it. No power of earth or--"Belturbet saw, with bulging eyes, a sudden void where a momentearlier had been a Cabinet Minister; a void emphasized rather thanrelieved by the presence of a puffed-out bewildered-lookingsparrow, which hopped about for h moment in a dazed fashion andthen fell to a violent cheeping and scolding."If we could understand sparrow-language," said the Duke serenely,"I fancy we should hear something infinitely worse than'strawberry-leafed nonentity.'""But good Heavens, Eugne," said Belturbet hoarsely, "what hasbecome of-- Why, there he is! How on earth did he get there?"And he pointed with a shaking finger towards a semblance of thevanished Minister, which approached once more along theunfrequented path.The Duke laughed."It is Quinston to all outward appearance," he said composedly,"but I fancy you will find, on closer investigation, that it is anangel understudy of the real article."The Angel-Quinston greeted them with a friendly smile."How beastly happy you two look sitting there!" he said wistfully."I don't suppose you'd care to change places with poor little us,"replied the Duke chaffingly."How about poor little me?" said the Angel modestly. "I've got torun about behind the wheels of popularity, like a spotted dogbehind a carriage, getting all the dust and trying to look as if Iwas an important part of the machine. I must seem a perfect foolto you onlookers sometimes.""I think you are a perfect angel," said the Duke.The Angel-that-had-been-Quinston smiled and passed on his way,pursued across the breadth of the Horse Guards Parade by atiresome little sparrow that cheeped incessantly and furiously athim."That's only the beginning," said the Duke complacently; "I'vemade it operative with all of them, irrespective of parties."Belturbet made no coherent reply; he was engaged in feeling hispulse. The Duke fixed his attention with some interest on a blackswan that was swimming with haughty, stiff-necked aloofness amidthe crowd of lesser water-fowl that dotted the ornamental water.For all its pride of bearing, something was evidently ruffling andenraging it; in its way it seemed as angry and amazed as thesparrow had been.At the same moment a human figure came along the pathway.Belturbet looked up apprehensively."Kedzon," he whispered briefly."An Angel-Kedzon, if I am not mistaken," said the Duke. "Look, heis talking affably to a human being. That settles it."A shabbily dressed lounger had accosted the man who had beenViceroy in the splendid East, and who still reflected in his miensome of the cold dignity of the Himalayan snow-peaks."Could you tell me, sir, if them white birds is storks orhalbatrosses? I had an argyment--"The cold dignity thawed at once into genial friendliness."Those are pelicans, my dear sir. Are you interested in birds?If you would join me in a bun and a glass of milk at the stallyonder, I could tell you some interesting things about Indianbirds. Right oh! Now the hill-mynah, for instance--"The two men disappeared in the direction of the bun stall,chatting volubly as they went, and shadowed from the other side ofthe railed enclosure by a black swan, whose temper seemed to havereached the limit of inarticulate rage.Belturbet gazed in an open-mouthed wonder after the retreatingcouple, then transferred his attention to the infuriated swan, andfinally turned with a look of scared comprehension at his youngfriend lolling unconcernedly in his chair. There was no longerany room to doubt what was happening. The "silly talk" had beentranslated into terrifying action."I think a prairie oyster on the top of a stiffish brandy-and-sodamight save my reason," said Belturbet weakly, as he limped towardshis club.It was late in the day before he could steady his nervessufficiently to glance at the evening papers. The Parliamentaryreport proved significant reading, and confirmed the fears that hehad been trying to shake off. Mr. Ap Dave, the Chancellor, whoselively controversial style endeared him to his supporters andembittered him, politically speaking, to his opponents, had risenin his place to make an unprovoked apology for having alluded in arecent speech to certain protesting taxpayers as "skulkers." Hehad realized on reflection that they were in all probabilityperfectly honest in their inability to understand certain legaltechnicalities of the new finance laws. The House had scarcelyrecovered from this sensation when Lord Hugo Sizzle caused afurther flutter of astonishment by going out of his way to indulgein an outspoken appreciation of the fairness, loyalty, andstraightforwardness not only of the Chancellor, but of all themembers of the Cabinet. A wit had gravely suggested moving theadjournment of the House in view of the unexpected circumstancesthat had arisen.Belturbet anxiously skimmed over a further item of news printedimmediately below the Parliamentary report: "Wild cat found in anexhausted condition in Palace Yard.""Now I wonder which of them--" he mused, and then an appallingidea came to him. "Supposing he's put them both into the samebeast!" He hurriedly ordered another prairie oyster.Belturbet was known in his club as a strictly moderate drinker;his consumption of alcoholic stimulants that day gave rise toconsiderable comment.The events of the next few days were piquantly bewildering to theworld at large; to Belturbet, who knew dimly what was happening,the situation was fraught with recurring alarms. The old sayingthat in politics it's the unexpected that always happens receiveda justification that it had hitherto somewhat lacked, and theepidemic of startling personal changes of front was not whollyconfined to the realm of actual politics. The eminent chocolatemagnate, Sadbury, whose antipathy to the Turf and everythingconnected with it was a matter of general knowledge, had evidentlybeen replaced by an Angel-Sadbury, who proceeded to electrify thepublic by blossoming forth as an owner of race-horses, giving as areason his matured conviction that the sport was, after all, onewhich gave healthy open-air recreation to large numbers of peopledrawn from all classes of the community, and incidentallystimulated the important industry of horse-breeding. His colours,chocolate and cream hoops spangled with pink stars, promised tobecome as popular as any on the Turf. At the same time, in orderto give effect to his condemnation of the evils resulting from thespread of the gambling habit among wage-earning classes, who livedfor the most part from hand to mouth, he suppressed all bettingnews and tipsters' forecasts in the popular evening paper that wasunder his control. His action received instant recognition andsupport from the Angel-proprietor of the EVENING VIEWS, theprincipal rival evening halfpenny paper, who forthwith issued anukase decreeing a similar ban on betting news, and in a shortwhile the regular evening Press was purged of all mention ofstarting prices and probable winners. A considerable drop in thecirculation of all these papers was the immediate result,accompanied, of course, by a falling-off in advertisement value,while a crop of special betting broadsheets sprang up to supplythe newly-created want. Under their influence the betting habitbecame if anything rather wore widely diffused than before. TheDuke had possibly overlooked the futility of koepenicking theleaders of the nation with excellently intentioned angel under-studies, while leaving the mass of the people in its originalcondition.Further sensation and dislocation was caused in the Press world bythe sudden and dramatic RAPPROCHEMENT which took place between theAngel-Editor of the SCRUTATOR and the Angel-Editor of the ANGLIANREVIEW, who not only ceased to criticize and disparage the toneand tendencies of each other's publication, but agreed to exchangeeditorships for alternating periods. Here again public supportwas not on the side of the angels; constant readers of theSCRUTATOR complained bitterly of the strong meat which was thrustupon them at fitful intervals in place of the almost vegetariandiet to which they had become confidently accustomed; even thosewho were not mentally averse to strong meat as a separate coursewere pardonably annoyed at being supplied with it in the pages ofthe SCRUTATOR. To be suddenly confronted with a pungent herringsalad when one had attuned oneself to tea and toast, or todiscover a richly truffled segment of PAT DE FOIE dissembled in abowl of bread and milk, would he an experience that might upsetthe equanimity of the most placidly disposed mortal. An equallyvehement outcry arose from the regular subscribers of the ANGLIANREVIEW who protested against being served from time to time withliterary fare which no young person of sixteen could possibly wantto devour in secret. To take infinite precautions, theycomplained, against the juvenile perusal of such eminentlyinnocuous literature was like reading the Riot Act on anuninhabited island. Both reviews suffered a serious falling-offin circulation and influence. Peace hath its devastations as wellas war.The wives of noted public men formed another element ofdiscomfiture which the young Duke had almost entirely left out ofhis calculations. It is sufficiently embarrassing to keep abreastof the possible wobblings and veerrings-round of a human husband,who, from the strength or weakness of his personal character, mayleap over or slip through the barriers which divide the parties;for this reason a merciful politician usually marries late inlife, when he has definitely made up his mind on which side hewishes his wife to be socially valuable. But these trials were asnothing compared to the bewilderment caused by the Angel-husbandswho seemed in some cases to have revolutionized their outlook onlife in the interval between breakfast and dinner, withoutpremonition or preparation of any kind, and apparently withoutrealizing the least need for subsequent explanation. Thetemporary peace which brooded over the Parliamentary situation wasby no means reproduced in the home circles of the leadingstatesmen and politicians. It had been frequently and extensivelyremarked of Mrs. Exe that she would try the patience of an angel;now the tables were reversed, and she unwittingly had anopportunity for discovering that the capacity for exasperatingbehaviour was not all on one side.And then, with the introduction of the Navy Estimates,Parliamentary peace suddenly dissolved. It was the old quarrelbetween Ministers and the Opposition as to the adequacy or thereverse of the Government's naval programme. The Angel-Quinstonand the Angel-Hugo-Sizzle contrived to keep the debates free frompersonalities and pinpricks, but an enormous sensation was createdwhen the elegant lackadaisical Halfan Halfour threatened to bringup fifty, thousand stalwarts to wreck the House if the Estimateswere not forthwith revised on a Two-Power basis. It was amemorable scene when he rose in his place, in response to thescandalized shouts of his opponents, and thundered forth,"Gentlemen, I glory in the name of Apache."Belturbet, who had made several fruitless attempts to ring up hisyoung friend since the fateful morning in St. James's Park, ranhim to earth one afternoon at his club, smooth and spruce andunruffled as ever."Tell me, what on earth have you turned Cocksley Coxon into?"Belturbet asked anxiously, mentioning the name of one of thepillars of unorthodoxy in the Anglican Church. "I don't fancy heBELIEVES in angels, and if he finds an angel preaching orthodoxsermons from his pulpit while he's been turned into a fox-terrier,he'll develop rabies in less than no time.""I rather think it was a fox-terrier," said the Duke lazily.Belturbet groaned heavily, and sank into a chair."Look here, Eugne," he whispered hoarsely, having first lookedwell round to see that no one was within hearing range, "you'vegot to stop it. Consols are jumping up and down like bronchos,and that speech of Halfour's in the House last night has simplystartled everybody out of their wits. And then on the top of it,Thistlebery--""What has he been saying?" asked the Duke quickly."Nothing. That's just what's so disturbing. Every one thought itwas simply inevitable that he should come out with a great epoch-making speech at this juncture, and I've just seen on the tapethat he has refused to address any meetings at present, giving asa reason his opinion that something more than mere speech-makingwas wanted."The young Duke said nothing, but his eyes shone with quietexultation."It's so unlike Thistlebery," continued Belturbet; "at least," hesaid suspiciously, "it's unlike the REAL Thistlebery--""The real Thistlebery is flying about somewhere as a vocally-industrious lapwing," said the Duke calmly; "I expect great thingsof the Angel-Thistlebery," he added.At this moment there was a magnetic stampede of members towardsthe lobby, where the tape-machines were ticking out some news ofmore than ordinary import."COUP D'TAT in the North. Thistlebery seizes Edinburgh Castle.Threatens civil war unless Government expands naval programme."In the babel which ensued Belturbet lost sight of his youngfriend. For the best part of the afternoon he searched one likelyhaunt after another, spurred on by the sensational posters whichthe evening papers were displaying broadcast over the West End."General Baden-Baden mobilizes Boy-Scouts. Another COUP D'TATfeared. Is Windsor Castle safe?" This was one of the earlierposters, and was followed by one of even more sinister purport:"Will the Test-match have to be postponed?" It was thisdisquietening question which brought home the real seriousness ofthe situation to the London public, and made people wonder whetherone might not pay too high a price for the advantages of partygovernment. Belturbet, questing round in the hope of finding theoriginator of the trouble, with a vague idea of being able toinduce him to restore matters to their normal human footing, cameacross an elderly club acquaintance who dabbled extensively insome of the more sensitive market securities. He was pale withindignation, and his pallor deepened as a breathless newsboydashed past with a poster inscribed: "Premier's constituencyharried by moss-troopers. Halfour sends encouraging telegram torioters. Letchworth Garden City threatens reprisals. Foreignerstaking refuge in Embassies and National Liberal Club.""This is devils' work!" he said angrily.Belturbet knew otherwise.At the bottom of St. James's Street a newspaper motor-cart, whichhad just come rapidly along Pall Mall, was surrounded by a knot ofeagerly talking people, and for the first time that afternoonBelturbet heard expressions of relief and congratulation.It displayed a placard with the welcome announcement: "Crisisended. Government gives way. Important expansion of navalprogramme."There seemed to be no immediate necessity for pursuing the questof the errant Duke, and Belturbet turned to make his way homewardthrough St. James's Park. His mind, attuned to the alarums andexcursions of the afternoon, became dimly aware that someexcitement of a detached nature was going on around him. In spiteof the political ferment which reigned in the streets, quite alarge crowd had gathered to watch the unfolding of a tragedy thathad taken place on the shore of the ornamental water. A largeblack swan, which had recently shown signs of a savage anddangerous disposition, had suddenly attacked a young gentleman whowas walking by the water's edge, dragged him down under thesurface, and drowned him before anyone could come to hisassistance. At the moment when Belturbet arrived on the spotseveral park-keepers were engaged in lifting the corpse into apunt. Belturbet stooped to pick up a hat that lay near the sceneof the struggle. It was a smart soft felt hat, faintlyreminiscent of Houbigant.More than a month elapsed before Belturbet had sufficientlyrecovered from his attack of nervous prostration to take aninterest once more in what was going on in the world of politics.The Parliamentary Session was still in full swing, and a GeneralElection was looming in the near future. He called for a batch ofmorning papers and skimmed rapidly through the speeches of theChancellor, Quinston, and other Ministerial leaders, as well asthose of the principal Opposition champions, and then sank back inhis chair with a sigh of relief. Evidently the spell had ceasedto act after the tragedy which had overtaken its invoker. Therewas no trace of angel anywhere.