The evangel of the Lord Paramount1 of England was swift and direct.
Clad thinly in the incorporated identity of Mr. Parham, the Senior Tutor of St. Simon’s, publicist and historian, sustained at the outset by the wealth of this strangely subdued2 Sir Bussy which he commandeered without scruple3, waited upon in a state of awestricken devotion by Hereward Jackson, and attended hygienically by the cowed and convinced Sir Titus Knowles, the Master Spirit, without haste and without delay, imposed his personality upon the national imagination. Without delay and yet without apparent haste, he set about the task for which he had become incarnate4.
With unerring judgment5 he chose and summoned his supporters to his side and arranged what in the case of any inferior type would have been called a vulgar publicity6 campaign. That is the first necessary phase in any sort of human leadership. To begin with, one must be known. Vulgarization is the road to empire. By that the most fine-minded of men must come to power, if they would have power. The careers of C?sar and Napoleon opened with a bold operation of the contemporary means of publicity. They could open in no other way.
The country was weary of parliamentary government, weary of a conservatism which did not reduce the taxes upon property and enterprise to a minimum, weary of a liberalism that it could not trust to maintain overwhelming but inexpensive armaments, weary of the unintelligible7 bickerings of liberalism and labour, weary of the growing spectre of unemployment, weary of popular education, religious discussion, and business uncertainty8, disappointed by peace and dismayed at the thought of war, neurasthenic and thoroughly9 irritable10 and distressed11. The papers it read attacked the government and would not support the opposition12. Politics could not escape from personalities13, and none of the personalities succeeded in being more than actively14 undignified or industriously15 dull. Everybody nagged16 everybody. Trade was bad, the new talking movies a clanging disappointment, county cricket more and more tedious, and the influenza17 hung about maddeningly. Whenever one tried to do anything one found one had a cold. Criticism and literature fostered discord18 with whatever was old and would not countenance19 hope for anything new. Aimless skepticism was the “thing.” Nobody seemed to know where to go or what to do, and the birth rate and death rate, falling together, witnessed together to the general indecisiveness. The weather was moody20 and treacherous21. The General Election had pleased nobody. It had taken power out of the hands of a loyal if dull conservative majority, faithful to the honoured traditions of an expanding empire, and transferred it to the control of a vague and sentimental22 idealism in which nobody believed. The country was ripe for some great change.
It was at a mass gathering23 of the Amalgamated24 Patriotic25 Societies in the Albert Hall, convened26 not very hopefully to protest against any pampering28 of the unemployed29 by their fellows on the government benches, that the Lord Paramount, still thinly personating the vanished Mr. Parham, rose, like a beneficent star upon the British horizon. When he stood up to speak he was an unknown man except to the elect few to whom he had already revealed himself. When at last, amidst an unparalleled storm of enthusiasm, he resumed his seat, he was already and irrevocably leader of a national renascence. The residue30 of the agenda was washed away and forgotten in the wild storm of enthusiasm that beat upon the platform.
Yet his début was made with the very minimum of artificiality. His voice rang clear and true into the remotest circles of that great place; the handsome pallor of his face, lit ever and again by an extraordinarily31 winning smile, focussed every eye. His bearing was inaggressive, and yet his whole being radiated an extraordinary magnetism32. His gestures were restrained but expressive33; the chief of them the throwing out of a beautifully formed hand. “Who is this man,” whispered a thousand lips, “that we have never known of him before?”
His speech was entirely34 devoid35 of rhetorical gymnastics. His style can be best described as one of colossal36 simplicity37. He touched the familiar and obvious to a new life. His discourse38 carried along platitudes39 as hosts carry time-honoured banners and one familiar phrase followed another, like exiled leaders refreshed and renewed returning to their people. With a few closely knit phrases he gathered together the gist40 of the previous speakers. Some of them had been perhaps a trifle querulous, over explicit41, or lengthy42, and it was marvellous how he plucked the burning heart from the honest and yet plaintive43 copiousness44 that had preceded him and held it out, a throbbing45 and beating indignation. It was true, he conceded, that our working classes, under the poisonous infection of foreign agitators46, deteriorated47 daily; it was true that art and literature had become the vehicles of a mysterious malaria48, true that science was mischievous49 and miasmatic50 and the very pulpit and altar were touched by doubt. It was true that our young people had lost all sense of modesty51 in the poisoned chalice52 of pleasure and that our growing hosts of unemployed seemed to lack even the will to invent anything to do. Nevertheless . . .
For a moment his golden voice held its great audience in the immense expectation of that overarching word. Then, very gently and clearly and sweetly, it told of what Britain had been to the world and what she still might be, this little island, this jewel in the forehead of the world, this precious jewel, this crowned imperial jewel, set in the stormy frosted silver of the seas. For, after all, these workers of ours — properly safeguarded — were still the best in the world, and their sons and daughters heirs of the mightiest53 tradition that had ever been hewn from the crucibles54 of time. (No time to correct that; it had to go. The meaning was plain.) Superficially our land might seem to have given way to a certain lassitude. That made it all the more urgent that we should thrust all masks and misconceptions aside now, and stand forth55 again in this age of the world’s direst need, the mighty56 race, the race of leaders and adventurers that we were and had always been. BUT. . .
Again a moment of expectation; every face in that quintessential assembly intent.
Was all our pride and hope to be dashed and laid aside to subserve the manoeuvres of a handful of garrulous57 politicians and their parasites58 and dupes? Was Britain to be forever gagged by its infatuation with elected persons, and the national voice of our great people belied59 by the tediums and dishonesties of a parliamentary institution that had long outlived its use? Through years of impatience60 the passionate61 negative had been engendering62 itself in our indignant hearts. Let us borrow a phrase from an unexpected quarter. The poor rebels on the outer fringe of the Socialist63 party, that fringe the Socialist party was so anxious to deny, the Bolsheviki, the Communistky, the Cooks and Maxtons, and so forth, used a phrase that went far beyond their courage. That phrase was Direct Action. Not for such as they were, was the realization64 of so tremendous a suggestion. For Direct Action could be a great and glorious thing. It could be the drawing of the sword of righteousness. It could be the launching of the thunderbolt. The time had come, the hour was striking, for honest men and true women and all that was real and vital in our national life to think of Direct Action, to prepare for Direct Action; to discipline themselves for the hour of Direct Action, when they would hold and maintain, strike and spare not.
For some moments the Master Spirit was like a strong swimmer in a tumultuous sea of applause. As the tumult65 fell to attention again he sketched66 out his line of action very briefly67 and so came to his peroration68. “I ask you to return to the essential, the substantial things of life,” he said. “Here I stand for plain and simple things — for King and Country, for Religion and Property, for Order and Discipline, for the Peasant on the Land and for all Men at their Work and Duty, for the Rightness of the Right, the Sacredness of Sacred Things and all the Fundamental Institutions of Mankind.”
He remained standing69. The voice died away. For some moments there was a great stillness and then a sound like “Ah!”— a long universal “Ah!” and then a thunder of expression that rose and rose. English audiences they say are hard to move, but this one was on fire. Everyone stood. Everyone sought the relief of gesticulation. All the great hall seemed to be pressing and pouring down towards its Master made manifest. Everywhere were shining eyes and extended hands. “Tell us what to do,” cried a hundred voices. “Show us what to do. Lead us!” Fresh people seemed to be flowing into the place as those who had been there throughout pressed down the gangways. How they responded! Surely of all gifts of power that God gives his creatures that of oratory70 has the swiftest reward! The Lord Paramount faced his conquered audience, and within, restored to the religious confidence of an earlier time, he thanked his God.
It was impossible to leave things at that point; some immediate71 action was needed. “What are we to tell them to do?” pressed the chairman.
“Form a league,” said the Master simply.
Hands were held up to command silence. The chairman’s thin voice could be heard reiterating72 the suggestion. “Yes, form a league,” thundered the multitude. “What are we to call the league?”
“League of Duty,” suggested Hereward Jackson, jammed close to the Master.
“The Duty Paramount League,” said the Master, his voice cutting through the uproar73 like the sweep of a sword. The multitude vibrated upon that.
A little speechifying followed, heard eagerly but impatiently. The League, someone said, was to be the Fascisti of Britain. There were loud cries of “British Fascisti” and “The English Duce” (variously pronounced). Young Englishmen, hitherto slack and aimless, stood up and saluted75 Fascist74 fashion and took on something of the stiff, stern dignity of Roman camerieri as they did so.
“And who is he?” cried a penetrating76 voice. “What is his name? He is our leader. Our Deuce! We will follow him.”
“Doochy!” someone corrected. . . .
Cries and confusion, and then out of it all the words, “Duty Paramount! The Master Paramount! Paramount!” growing to a great shout, a vast vocal77 upheaval78.
“Hands up for adhesions,” bawled79 a tall, intensely excited man at the Master Spirit’s elbow, and the whole multitude was a ripe cornfield of hands. It was an astounding80 gathering; young men and old men, beautiful women, tall girls like flames and excited elderly persons of every size and shape, all fused in one stupendous enthusiasm, and many of them waving sticks and umbrellas. Never had there been a religious revival81 to compare with it. And every eye in all that swaying mass was fixed82 on the serene83 determination of the Master Spirit’s face.
Flashes of blinding lavender-tinted light showed that press cameras were in action.
“Turn this place into a headquarters. Enrol84 them,” said the Master Spirit.
He felt a tug85 at his sleeve. It was the first of a number of queer little backward tugs86 he was to feel even in the first exaltation of his ascent87. “We’ve only got the place until midnight,” said a thin, unnecessary, officious-mannered little man.
“Disregard that,” said the Master Spirit and prepared to leave the auditorium88.
“They’ll turn us out,” the little man insisted.
“Turn THAT out! NEVER!” said the Master Spirit waving a hand to the following he had created, the stormy forces he had evoked89, and scorched90 the doubter with his blazing eyes. But still the creature insisted.
“Well, they’ll cut off the lights.”
“Seize the switches! And tell the organist not to play the National Anthem91 until he is told to. Tell him to play some stirring music as the enrolment goes on.”
The timid man shrunk away, and others more resolute92 obeyed the Master’s behests. ‘Turn us out’ indeed! The organist after a brief parley93 arranged to play “O God, Our Help in Ages Past” with variations wandering occasionally into “Onward, Christian94 Soldiers” and “Rule, Britannia” until a suitable relief could be found for him, and to such magnificent music it was that the League of Duty Paramount was born.
The enrolment continued until dawn. Thousands of names were taken. They poured past the little tables endlessly. Their eyes blazed, their noses resembled the first Duke of Wellington’s, their chins protruded95 more and more. It was amazing that the Albert Hall could have held so many earnest and vigorous people. . . .
The Master’s task for that evening was done. He had fought his first fight on the road to power. Reverential hands guided him down steps of faded baize. He found himself in a little ante-room, and Hereward Jackson was offering him a glass of water. The chairman of the meeting stood out at the centre of a select circle of devotees. Mrs. Pinchot, dark and mutely worshipping, had managed somehow to get into this inner grouping. Her eyes were full of understanding. “Too late for the morning papers,” said the chairman, “but we shall see that the evening press gets everything full and good. A wonderful speech sir! Do you mind a few photographers from the picture papers taking shots at you?”
“Let them,” said the Master Spirit.
He considered. “I am to be seen at Carfex House. I shall make that my headquarters. Let them come to me there.”
For a moment that rare smile of his dazzled the chairman, touched Mrs. Pinchot like a glancing sunbeam, and he had gone.
“Not tired, sir?” asked Hereward Jackson anxiously in the car.
“It is not for me to be tired,” said the Master Spirit.
“I have an excellent tonic96 I can give you at Carfex House,” said Sir Titus.
“Chemicals when I must,” said the Master, with that characteristic gesture of his hand.
Yet he was sensible of fatigue97 and oddly enough of just one faint twinge of anxiety. There was one little speck98 upon the splendour of this triumph. These two men were manifestly faithful, and Jackson was full of emotion at the immense success of the meeting, but — there ought to have been a third man in the car.
“By the by,” said the Master Spirit, leaning back restfully in the big Rolls–Royce and closing his eyes with an affectation of complete indifference99. “Where is Sir Bussy Woodcock?”
Jackson thought. “He went away. He went quite early. He got up suddenly and went out.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Something — it always sounds like ‘Gaw.’”
The Master Spirit opened his eyes. “He must be sent for — if he is not at Carfex House. I shall want him at hand.”
But Sir Bussy was not at Carfex House. He had not gone home. The place, however, was entirely at the disposal of the Master Spirit and his retinue100. The servants had everything in readiness for them, and the major domo offered to telephone to Marmion House to restore communications with Sir Bussy. But if there was a reply it did not get through to the Master Spirit, and next morning Sir Bussy was still missing. He did not reappear until late the next afternoon and then he drifted into his own property, the most detached and observant person in what was rapidly becoming a busy and militant101 hive. The organization of the staff of the Master Spirit and the apportionment of rooms to the secretaries he engaged, had gone on rapidly in the absence of the legal owner of the house. Among the secretaries, most energetic and capable of helpers, was little Mrs. Pinchot, the medium. Others were chosen from among the little Oxford102 group of “Parham’s Young Men.”
Next morning after a séance with a number of photographers, the Master Spirit motored to Harrow School, where as a result of headlong arrangements he was able to address the boys in the morning. His address was substantially the same as that he had given in the Albert Hall, and the enthusiasm of the generous youngsters, led by the more military masters, was a very glorious experience. While he lunched with the head, the gallant103 lads, neglecting all thought of food, bolted off to put on their cadet uniforms, and an informal parade of the corps104 was held to bid him farewell, with shouts of “Duty Paramount!” and “We are ready!”
There was little classroom work for the rest of that day at Harrow.
A strong contingent105 of reporters was present and next morning saw the demonstration106 fully27 reported and pictured in all the daily papers. So his message came through to that greater outer world, the general public, and awakened107 an immediate response.
The following afternoon saw him repeating his triumph on the playing fields of Eton.
The time was ripe, and men had been waiting for him. In a few weeks the whole empire knew of the Duty Paramount movement and the coming of the Master Paramount (the formal title of Lord Paramount came later) to lead England back into the paths she had forsaken108. The main newspaper groups supported him from the outset; Lord Bothermey became his devoted109 standard bearer, and all the resources of modern journalism110 were exerted in his favour. He was urged in leading articles that would have been fulsome111 had they referred to any mere112 mortal leader, to conduct his manifest mission of control and suppression fearlessly and speedily. His popularity with the army, navy, and flying corps, and particularly with the very old and very young officers in these services, was instantaneous and complete. Literature cast off the triviality and skepticism that had overtaken it and flamed to his support. Mr. Bloodred Hipkin, the Laureate of Empire, burst into his swan song at his coming and Mr. Berandine Shore, overjoyed at the fall of the entire detestable race of politicians, inundated113 the press with open letters to proclaim him even greater than Mussolini. He was cheered for twenty minutes at the Stock Exchange. The feminine electorate114 was conquered en masse by the Byronic beauty of his profile, the elegance115 of his gestures, and the extraordinary charm of his smile.
England fell into his hands like a ripe fruit. It was clear that the executive and legislative116 functions were his for the taking.
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paramount
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| a.最重要的，最高权力的 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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incarnate
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| adj.化身的，人体化的，肉色的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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industriously
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nagged
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| adj.经常遭责怪的；被压制的；感到厌烦的；被激怒的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的过去式和过去分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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influenza
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| n.流行性感冒，流感 | |
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discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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amalgamated
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| v.（使）（金属）汞齐化( amalgamate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）合并；联合；结合 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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convened
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| 召开( convene的过去式 )； 召集； （为正式会议而）聚集； 集合 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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pampering
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| v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的现在分词 ) | |
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unemployed
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| adj.失业的，没有工作的；未动用的，闲置的 | |
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residue
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| n.残余，剩余，残渣 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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platitudes
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| n.平常的话，老生常谈，陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 )；滥套子 | |
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gist
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| n.要旨；梗概 | |
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explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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lengthy
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| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
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plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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copiousness
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| n.丰裕，旺盛 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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agitators
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| n.（尤指政治变革的）鼓动者( agitator的名词复数 )；煽动者；搅拌器；搅拌机 | |
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deteriorated
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| 恶化，变坏( deteriorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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malaria
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| n.疟疾 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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miasmatic
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| adj.毒气的，沼气的 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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chalice
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| n.圣餐杯；金杯毒酒 | |
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mightiest
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| adj.趾高气扬( mighty的最高级 )；巨大的；强有力的；浩瀚的 | |
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crucibles
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| n.坩埚，严酷的考验（ crucible的名词复数 ） | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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parasites
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| 寄生物( parasite的名词复数 )； 靠他人为生的人； 诸虫 | |
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belied
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| v.掩饰( belie的过去式和过去分词 )；证明（或显示）…为虚假；辜负；就…扯谎 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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engendering
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| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的现在分词 ) | |
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socialist
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| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
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realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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65
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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67
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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68
peroration
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| n.（演说等之）结论 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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reiterating
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的现在分词 ) | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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fascist
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| adj.法西斯主义的；法西斯党的；n.法西斯主义者，法西斯分子 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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79
bawled
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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enrol
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| v.（使）注册入学，（使）入学，（使）入会 | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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tugs
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| n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 )；猛拖；拖船v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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auditorium
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| n.观众席，听众席；会堂，礼堂 | |
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evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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anthem
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| n.圣歌，赞美诗，颂歌 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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parley
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| n.谈判 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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retinue
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| n.侍从；随员 | |
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militant
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| adj.激进的，好斗的；n.激进分子，斗士 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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105
contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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108
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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111
fulsome
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| adj.可恶的，虚伪的，过分恭维的 | |
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112
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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113
inundated
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| v.淹没( inundate的过去式和过去分词 )；（洪水般地）涌来；充满；给予或交予（太多事物）使难以应付 | |
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114
electorate
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| n.全体选民；选区 | |
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115
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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116
legislative
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| n.立法机构，立法权；adj.立法的，有立法权的 | |
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