The Title | Page 8

this titles business. I'm hanged if I can
understand it. What strikes me as an unprejudiced observer is that titles
are supposed to be such a terrific honour, and yet the people who deal
them out scarcely ever keep any for themselves. Look at Mr. Gladstone,
for instance. He must have made about forty earls and seven thousand
baronets in his time. Now if I was a Prime Minister, and I believed in
titles--which I jolly well don't--I should make myself a duke right off;
and I should have several marquises and viscounts round me in the
Cabinet like a sort of bodyguard, and my private secretaries would have
to be knights. There'd be some logic in that arrangement anyhow.
CULVER. In view of your political career, John, will you mind if I
give you a brief lesson on elementary politics--though you are on your
holidays?
JOHN (_easily_). I'm game.
CULVER. What is the first duty of modern Governments?
JOHN. To govern.
CULVER. My innocent boy. I thought better of you. I know that you
look on the venerable Mr. Tranto as a back number, and I suspect that
Mr. Tranto in his turn regards me as prehistoric; and yet you are so
behind the times as to imagine that the first duty of modern
Governments is to govern! My dear Rip van Winkle, wake up. The first
duty of a Government is to live. It has no right to be a Government at
all unless it is convinced that if it fell the country would go to
everlasting smash. Hence its first duty is to survive. In order to survive
it must do three things--placate certain interests, influence votes, and
obtain secret funds. All these three things can be accomplished by the
ingenious institution of Honours. Only the simple-minded believe that

Honours are given to honour. Honours are given to save the life of the
Government. Hence the Honours List. Examine the Honours List and
you can instantly tell how the Government feels in its inside. When the
Honours List is full of rascals, millionaires, and--er--chumps, you may
be quite sure that the Government is dangerously ill.
TRANTO. But that amounts to what we've been saying in The Echo
to-day.
CULVER. Yes, I've read the The Echo.
JOHN. I thought you never had a free moment at the office--always
rushed to death--at least that's the mater's theory.
CULVER. I've read The Echo, and my one surprise is that you're here
to-night, Tranto.
TRANTO. Why?
CULVER. I quite thought you'd have been shoved into the Tower
under the Defence of the Realm Act. Or Sampson Straight, anyway.
(Hildegarde starts.) Your contributor has committed the unpardonable
sin of hitting the nail on the head. He might almost have seen an
advance copy of the Honours List.
TRANTO. He hadn't. Nor had I. Who's in it?
CULVER. You might ask who isn't in it. (Taking a paper from his
pocket.) Well, Gentletie's in it. He gets a knighthood.
TRANTO. Never heard of him. Who is he?
HILDEGARDE. Oh, yes, you've heard of him. (John glances at her
severely.) He's M.P. for some earthly paradise or other in the South
Riding.
TRANTO. Oh!
CULVER. Perhaps I might read you something written by my private

secretary--he's one of these literary wags. You see there's been a
demand that the Government should state clearly, in every case of an
Honour, exactly what services the Honour is given for. This (_taking
paper from his pocket_) is supposed to be the stuff sent round to the
Press by the Press Bureau. (Reads.) 'Mr. Gentletie has gradually made a
solid reputation for himself as the dullest man in the House of
Commons. Whenever he rises to his feet the House empties as if by
magic. In cases of inconvenience, when the Government wishes
abruptly to close a debate by counting out the House, it has invariably
put up Mr. Gentletie to speak. The device has never been known to fail.
Nobody can doubt that Mr. Gentletie's patriotic devotion to the Allied
cause well merits the knighthood which is now bestowed on him.'
JOHN (astounded.) Stay me with flagons!
TRANTO. So that's that! And who else?
CULVER. Another of your esteemed uncles.
TRANTO. Well, that's not very startling, seeing that my uncle's chief
daily organ is really a department of the Government.
JOHN. What I say is--
HILDEGARDE (simultaneously with John). Wouldn't it be more
correct--(_continuing alone_) wouldn't it be more correct to say that the
Government is really a department of your uncle's chief daily organ?
JOHN. Hilda, old girl, I wish you wouldn't interrupt. Cookery's your
line.
HILDEGARDE. Sorry, Johnnie. I see I was in danger of becoming
unsexed.
CULVER (to John). Yes? You were about to say?
JOHN. Oh, nothing.
CULVER (to Tranto). Shall I read the passage