Success | Page 8

section of his
Conservative followers, and to the task of taking decisions on the war
was added the constant and irritating necessity of keeping his own
supporters in line with the administration. In 1916 he had to take the
vital decision which displaced Mr. Asquith in favour of Mr. Lloyd
George, and during the latter's Premiership he had to suffer the strain of
constantly accommodating himself, out of a feeling of personal loyalty,
to methods which were not congenial to his own nature. In the face of
all these stresses he never would take a holiday, and nothing except the
rigid moderation of his life enabled him to keep the cool penetration of
his judgment intact and his physical vigour going during those six
terrible years.
The Lord Chancellor might appear to be an exception to the rule. This
is very far from being the case. It is true that his temperament knows no
mean either in work or play. One of the most successful speeches he
ever delivered in the House of Commons was the fruit of a day of
violent exercise, followed by a night of preparation, with a wet towel
tied round the head. And yet he appeared perfectly fresh; he has the
priceless asset of the most marvellous constitution in the British Empire.
Kipling's poem on France suggests an adaptation to describe the Lord
Chancellor:
"Furious in luxury, merciless in toil, Terrible with strength renewed
from a tireless soil."
No man has spent himself more freely in the hunting-field or works
harder to-day at games. Yet, with all this tendency to the extreme of

work and play, he is a man of iron resolution and determined
self-control. Although the most formidable enemy of the Pussyfooters
and the most powerful protector of freedom in the social habits of the
people that the Cabinet contains, he is, like Mr. Bonar Law, a teetotaler.
It is this capacity for governing himself which is pointing upwards to
still greater heights of power.
Mr. McKenna is, perhaps, the most striking instance of what
determination can achieve in the way of health and physique. His
rowing Blue was the simple and direct result of taking pains--in the
form of a rowing dummy in which he practised in his own rooms. The
achievement was typical of a career which has in its dual success no
parallel in modern life. There have been many Chancellors of the
Exchequer and many big men in the City. That a man, after forcing his
way to the front in politics, should transfer his activities to the City and
become in a short four years its most commanding figure is unheard of.
And Mr. McKenna had the misfortune to enter public life with the
handicap of a stutter. He set himself to cure it by reading Burke aloud
to his family, and he cured it. He was then told by his political friends
that he spoke too quickly to be effective. He cured himself of this
defect too, by rehearsing his speeches to a time machine--an ordinary
stop-watch, not one of the H.G. Wells' variety. Indeed, if any man can
be said to have "made himself," it is Mr. McKenna. He bridges the gulf
between politics and the City, and brings one to a final instance of the
purely business man.
Mr. Gordon Selfridge is an exemplar of the simple life practical in the
midst of unbounded success. He goes to his office every morning
regularly at nine o'clock. In the midst of opulence he eats a frugal lunch
in a room which supplies the one thing of which he is avaricious--big
windows and plenty of fresh air. For light and air spell for him, as for
the rest of us, health and sound judgment. He possesses, indeed, one
terrible and hidden secret--a kind of baron's castle somewhere in the
heart of South England, where he may retire beyond the pursuit of King
or people, and hurl his defiance from its walls to all the intruders which
threaten the balance of the mind. No one has yet discovered this castle,
for it exists only on paper. When Mr. Gordon Selfridge requires mental
relaxation, he may be found poring over the plans which are to be the
basis of this fairy edifice. Moat and parapet, tower, dungeon, and

drawbridge, are all there, only awaiting the Mason of the future to
translate them into actuality. But the success of Mr. Selfridge lies in his
frugality, and not in his dreams. One can afford to have a castle in
Spain when one possesses the money to pay for it.
It is the complexity of modern life which enforces moderation. Science
has created vast populations and huge industries, and also given the
means by which single minds can direct them. Invention gives these
gifts,