In those days there existed a dining club called--there was some lost allusion to the exorcism of party feeling in its title--the Pentagram Circle.It included Bailey and Dayton and myself, Sir Herbert Thorns, Lord Charles Kindling, Minns the poet, Gerbault the big railway man, Lord Gane, fresh from the settlement of Framboya, and Rumbold, who later became Home Secretary and left us.We were men of all parties and very various experiences, and our object was to discuss the welfare of the Empire in a disinterested spirit.We dined monthly at the Mermaid in Westminster, and for a couple of years we kept up an average attendance of ten out of fourteen.The dinner-time was given up to desultory conversation, and it is odd how warm and good the social atmosphere of that little gathering became as time went on; then over the dessert, so soon as the waiters had swept away the crumbs and ceased to fret us, one of us would open with perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes' exposition of some specially prepared question, and after him we would deliver ourselves in turn, each for three or four minutes.When every one present had spoken once talk became general again, and it was rare we emerged upon Hendon Street before midnight.Sometimes, as my house was conveniently near, a knot of men would come home with me and go on talking and smoking in my dining-room until two or three.
We had Fred Neal, that wild Irish journalist, among us towards the end, and his stupendous flow of words materially prolonged our closing discussions and made our continuance impossible.
I learned very much and very many things at those dinners, but more particularly did I become familiarised with the habits of mind of such men as Neal, Crupp, Gane, and the one or two other New Imperialists who belonged to us.They were nearly all like Bailey Oxford men, though mostly of a younger generation, and they were all mysteriously and inexplicably advocates of Tariff Reform, as if it were the principal instead of at best a secondary aspect of constructive policy.They seemed obsessed by the idea that streams of trade could be diverted violently so as to link the parts of the Empire by common interests, and they were persuaded, I still think mistakenly, that Tariff Reform would have an immense popular appeal.
They were also very keen on military organisation, and with a curious little martinet twist in their minds that boded ill for that side of public liberty.So much against them.But they were disposed to spend money much more generously on education and research of all sorts than our formless host of Liberals seemed likely to do; and they were altogether more accessible than the Young Liberals to bold, constructive ideas affecting the universities and upper classes.The Liberals are abjectly afraid of the universities.I found myself constantly falling into line with these men in our discussions, and more and more hostile to Dayton's sentimentalising evasions of definite schemes and Minns' trust in such things as the "Spirit of our People" and the "General Trend of Progress." It wasn't that I thought them very much righter than their opponents; I believe all definite party "sides" at any time are bound to be about equally right and equally lop-sided; but that I thought I could get more out of them and what was more important to me, more out of myself if I co-operated with them.By 1908 I had already arrived at a point where I could be definitely considering a transfer of my political allegiance.
These abstract questions are inseparably interwoven with my memory of a shining long white table, and our hock bottles and burgundy bottles, and bottles of Perrier and St.Galmier and the disturbed central trophy of dessert, and scattered glasses and nut-shells and cigarette-ends and menu-cards used for memoranda.I see old Dayton sitting back and cocking his eye to the ceiling in a way he had while he threw warmth into the ancient platitudes of Liberalism, and Minns leaning forward, and a little like a cockatoo with a taste for confidences, telling us in a hushed voice of his faith in the Destiny of Mankind.Thorns lounges, rolling his round face and round eyes from speaker to speaker and sounding the visible depths of misery whenever Neal begins.Gerbault and Gane were given to conversation in undertones, and Bailey pursued mysterious purposes in lisping whispers.It was Crupp attracted me most.He had, as people say, his eye on me from the beginning.He used to speak at me, and drifted into a custom of coming home with me very regularly for an after-talk.
He opened his heart to me.
"Neither of us," he said, "are dukes, and neither of us are horny-handed sons of toil.We want to get hold of the handles, and to do that, one must go where the power is, and give it just as constructive a twist as we can.That's MY Toryism.""Is it Kindling's--or Gerbault's?"
"No.But theirs is soft, and mine's hard.Mine will wear theirs out.You and I and Bailey are all after the same thing, and why aren't we working together?""Are you a Confederate?" I asked suddenly.
"That's a secret nobody tells," he said.
"What are the Confederates after?"
"Making aristocracy work, I suppose.Just as, I gather, you want to do."...
The Confederates were being heard of at that time.They were at once attractive and repellent to me, an odd secret society whose membership nobody knew, pledged, it was said, to impose Tariff Reform and an ample constructive policy upon the Conservatives.In the press, at any rate, they had an air of deliberately organised power.I have no doubt the rumour of them greatly influenced my ideas....
