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Part Two Chapter 5 - SEEDS OF DISCORD
The days following Clarence's visit to the offices of the _Encore_
were marked by a growing feeling of unrest, alike among invaded and
invaders. The first novelty and excitement of the foreign occupation of
the country was beginning to wear off, and in its place the sturdy
independence so typical of the British character was reasserting
itself. Deep down in his heart the genuine Englishman has a rugged
distaste for seeing his country invaded by a foreign army. People were
asking themselves by what right these aliens had overrun British soil.
An ever-growing feeling of annoyance had begun to lay hold of the
nation.
It is probable that the departure of Sir Harry Lauder first brought
home to England what this invasion might mean. The great comedian, in
his manifesto in the _Times_, had not minced his words. Plainly
and crisply he had stated that he was leaving the country because the
music-hall stage was given over to alien gowks. He was sorry for
England. He liked England. But now, all he could say was, "God bless
you." England shuddered, remembering that last time he had said, "God
bless you till I come back."
Ominous mutterings began to make themselves heard.
Other causes contributed to swell the discontent. A regiment of
Russians, out route-marching, had walked across the bowling-screen at
Kennington Oval during the Surrey _v._ Lancashire match, causing
Hayward to be bowled for a duck's-egg. A band of German sappers had dug
a trench right across the turf at Queen's Club.
The mutterings increased.
Nor were the invaders satisfied and happy. The late English summer had
set in with all its usual severity, and the Cossacks, reared in the
kindlier climate of Siberia, were feeling it terribly. Colds were the
rule rather than the exception in the Russian lines. The coughing of
the Germans at Tottenham could be heard in Oxford Street.
The attitude of the British public, too, was getting on their nerves.
They had been prepared for fierce resistance. They had pictured the
invasion as a series of brisk battles--painful perhaps, but exciting.
They had anticipated that when they had conquered the country they
might meet with the Glare of Hatred as they patrolled the streets. The
Supercilious Stare unnerved them. There is nothing so terrible to the
highly-strung foreigner as the cold, contemptuous, patronising gaze of
the Englishman. It gave the invaders a perpetual feeling of doing the
wrong thing. They felt like men who had been found travelling in a
first-class carriage with a third-class ticket. They became conscious
of the size of their hands and feet. As they marched through the
Metropolis they felt their ears growing hot and red. Beneath the chilly
stare of the populace they experienced all the sensations of a man who
has come to a strange dinner-party in a tweed suit when everybody else
has dressed. They felt warm and prickly.
It was dull for them, too. London is never at its best in early
September, even for the _habitue_. There was nothing to do. Most
of the theatres were shut. The streets were damp and dirty. It was all
very well for the generals, appearing every night in the glare and
glitter of the footlights; but for the rank and file the occupation of
London spelt pure boredom.
London was, in fact, a human powder-magazine. And it was Clarence
Chugwater who with a firm hand applied the match that was to set it in
a blaze.
Content of Part Two Chapter 5 - SEEDS OF DISCORD [P G Wodehouse's novel: The Swoop! or How Clarence Saved England]
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