e story is of
their efforts to prevent this impropriety being discovered. Had they
mentioned it openly in Parliament on October 11, the matter might
have ended there. But they lacked the nerve: the occasion passed: and
nothing remained, especially for Rufus, but evasion, shiftiness,
half-truth passing as whole truth, the farce of indignant virtue--a
performance which left him not a shred of dignity and ought to have
made it unthinkable that he should ever again be given public office.
The perfect word on the whole episode was uttered, not by either
Gilbert or Cecil Chesterton or by any of their friends, but by
Rudyard Kipling. The case had meant a great deal to him. On June 15,
a Conservative neighbour of Kipling wrote to Gilbert:

I cannot let the days pass without writing to congratulate you and
your brother on the result of the Isaacs Trial. . . . I do feel, as
many thousands of English people must feel, that the _New Witness_ is
fighting on the side of English Nationalism and that is our common
battle. My neighbour, Rudyard Kipling, has followed every phase of
the fight with interest of such a kind that it almost precluded his
thinking of anything else at all and when he gets hold of the _New
Witness_ (my copy) I never can get it back again. You see, however
much we have all disagreed--do disagree--we are all in the same boat
about a lot of things of the first rank. . . . We can't afford to
differ just now if we do agree--it's all too serious.

When Isaacs was appointed Viceroy of India, Kipling wrote the poem:

GEHAZI

Whence comest thou, Gehazi
So reverend to behold
In scarlet and in ermine
And chain of England's gold?
From following after Naaman
To tell him all is well;
Whereby my zeal has made me
A judge in Israel.

Well done, well done, Gehazi,
Stretch forth thy ready hand,
Thou barely 'scaped from Judgment,
Take oath to judge the land.
Unswayed by gift of money
Or privy bribe more base,
Or knowledge which is profit
In any market place.

Search out and probe, Gehazi,
As thou of all canst try
The truthful, well-weighed answer
That tells the blacker lie:
The loud, uneasy virtue,
The anger feigned at will,
To overbear a witness
And make the court keep still.

Take order now, Gehazi,
That no man talk aside
In secret with the judges
The while his case is tried,
Lest he sho