In my student days in London and Cambridge, I had found among 

 the Conservatives an intense hatred of Gladstone, which cropped out 

 on all occasions. That, however, was but a pale and feeble sentiment as 

 compared with the detestation which the Tories felt toward Lloyd 

 George. An anecdote was current that summer, which, though foolish 

 enough, was yet significant of the violent hatred which it expressed. 

 An individual, who had rescued a man from drowning, was asked to 

 tell how it happened. He said: "I was fishing from a punt, when this 

 fellow came floating past, face down. I grabbed him and first, turned 

 him over, to make sure he wasn't Lloyd George, and then pulled him 

 into the boat." 



To an English friend, a fellow of the Royal Society, who had been 

 present at the great banquet in the Guild Hall, I expressed my surprise 

 at the kind of after-dinner speech with which the Prime Minister had 

 favoured us, saying: "I had always understood that Mr. Asquith was a 

 great speaker, but that performance last night was a pretty poor one 

 and disappointed me greatly." My friend answered : "You must remem- 

 ber that he was handicapped by knowing that every man in that room 

 hated him." A distinguished man of science at Cambridge was offered 

 a knighthood by the Asquith government, which he was most reluctant 

 to accept. I was told that his wife fairly went on her knees to him, beg- 

 ging him to refuse, but he felt it a duty to accept. That fortnight in 

 England, despite its exhausting character, was one of my most memor- 

 able experiences. 



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