The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro [84]
‘Look here, Stevens, it was dreadful. The ordeal we put you through last night.’
I paused in what I was doing and said: ‘Not at all, sir. I was only too happy to be of service.’
‘It was quite dreadful. We’d all had rather too good a dinner, I fancy. Please accept my apologies.’
‘Thank you, sir. But I am happy to assure you I was not unduly inconvenienced.’
His lordship walked over rather wearily to a leather armchair, seated himself and sighed. From my vantage point up on my ladder, I could see practically the whole of his long figure caught in the winter sunshine pouring in through the french windows and streaking much of the room. It was, as I recall it, one of those moments that brought home how much the pressures of life had taken their toll on his lordship over a relatively small number of years. His frame, always slender, had become alarmingly thin and somewhat misshapen, his hair prematurely white, his face strained and haggard. For a while, he sat gazing out of the french windows towards the downs, then said again:
‘It really was quite dreadful. But you see, Stevens, Mr Spencer had a point to prove to Sir Leonard. In fact, if it’s any consolation, you did assist in demonstrating a very important point. Sir Leonard had been talking a lot of that old-fashioned nonsense. About the will of the people being the wisest arbitrator and so on. Would you believe it, Stevens?’
‘Indeed, sir.’
‘We’re really so slow in this country to recognize when a thing’s outmoded. Other great nations know full well that to meet the challenges of each new age means discarding old, sometimes well-loved methods. Not so here in Britain. There’s still so many talking like Sir Leonard last night. That’s why Mr Spencer felt the need to demonstrate his point. And I tell you, Stevens, if the likes of Sir Leonard are made to wake up and think a little, then you can take it from me your ordeal last night was not in vain.’
‘Indeed, sir.’
Lord Darlington gave another sigh. ‘We’re always the last, Stevens. Always the last to be clinging on to outmoded systems. But sooner or later, we’ll need to face up to the facts. Democracy is something for a bygone era. The world’s far too complicated a place now for universal suffrage and such like. For endless members of parliament debating things to a standstill. All fine a few years ago perhaps, but in today’s world? What was it Mr Spencer said last night? He put it rather well.’
‘I believe, sir, he compared the present parliamentary system to a committee of the mothers’ union attempting to organize a war campaign.’
‘Exactly, Stevens. We are, quite frankly, behind the times in this country. And it’s imperative that all forward-looking people impress this on the likes of Sir Leonard.’
‘Indeed, sir.’
‘I ask you, Stevens. Here we are in the midst of a continuing crisis. I’ve seen it with my own eyes when I went north with Mr Whittaker. People are suffering. Ordinary, decent working people are suffering terribly. Germany and Italy have set their houses in order by acting. And so have the wretched Bolsheviks in their own way, one supposes. Even President Roosevelt, look at him, he’s not afraid to take a few bold steps on behalf of his people. But look at us here, Stevens. Year after year goes by, and nothing gets better. All we do is argue and debate and procrastinate. Any decent idea is amended to ineffectuality by the time it’s gone half-way through the various committees it’s obliged to pass through. The few people qualified to know what’s what are talked to a standstill by ignorant people all around them. What do you make of it, Stevens?’
‘The nation does