Arthur & George

compensation to which you allude. Or perhaps, Sir Arthur, you believe Mr Gladstone himself to be afflicted with that prejudice?’
    ‘I have absolutely no … evidence of that. Indeed, I very much doubt it.’
    ‘Then please let us drop the subject.’
    ‘Very well.’ Arthur is impressed by such firmness – indeed, stubbornness. ‘I should like to meet your parents. Also your sister. Discreetly, however. My instinct is always to go directly at things, but there are times when tactics and even bluff are necessary. As Lionel Amery likes to say, if you fight with a rhinoceros, you don’t want to tie a horn to your nose.’ George is baffled by this analogy, but Arthur does not notice. ‘I doubt it would help our cause if I were to be seen tramping the district with you or a member of your family. I need a contact, an acquaintance in the village. Perhaps you can suggest one.’
    ‘Harry Charlesworth,’ replies George automatically, just as if facing Great-Aunt Stoneham, or Greenway and Stentson. ‘Well, we sat next to one another at school. I pretended he was my friend. We were the two clever boys. My father used to rebuke me for not being friendlier with the farm boys, but frankly there was little contact possible. Harry Charlesworth has taken over the running of his father’s dairy. He has an honest reputation.’
    ‘You say you had little society with the village?’
    ‘And they little with me. In truth, Sir Arthur, I always intended, after qualifying, to live in Birmingham. I found Wyrley – between ourselves – a dull and backward place. At first I continued living at home, fearing to break the news to my parents, ignoring the village except for necessities. Having boots repaired, for example. And then gradually I found myself, not exactly trapped, but living so much within my family that it was becoming harder and harder to even think of leaving. And I am very attached to my sister Maud. So that was my position until … all that you know was done to me. After I was released from prison, it was naturally impossible for me to return to Staffordshire. So now I am in London. I have lodgings in Mecklenburgh Square, with Miss Goode. My mother was with me in the first weeks after my release. But Father needs her at home. She comes down when she can be spared to see how I am faring. My life –’ George pauses for a moment, ‘my life, as you can see, is in abeyance.’
    Arthur notes again how cautious and exact George is, whether describing large matters or small, emotions or facts. His man is a first-class witness. It is not his fault if he is unable to see what others can.
    ‘Mr Edalji –’
    ‘George, please.’ Sir Arthur’s pronunciation has been slipping back to Ee-dal-jee, and his new patron must be spared embarrassment.
    ‘You and I, George, you and I, we are … unofficial Englishmen.’
    George is taken aback by this remark. He regards Sir Arthur as a very official Englishman indeed: his name, his manner, his fame, his air of being absolutely at ease in this grand London hotel, even down to the time he kept George waiting. If Sir Arthur had not appeared to be part of official England, George would probably not have written to him in the first place. But it seems impolite to question a man’s categorization of himself.
    Instead, he reflects upon his own status. How is he less than a full Englishman? He is one by birth, by citizenship, by education, by religion, by profession. Does Sir Arthur mean that when they took away his freedom and struck him off the Rolls, they also struck him off the roll of Englishmen? If so, he has no other land. He cannot go back two generations. He can hardly return to India, a place he has never visited and has little desire to.
    ‘Sir Arthur, when my … troubles began, my father would sometimes take me into his study and instruct me about the achievements of famous Parsees. How this one became a successful businessman, that one a Member of Parliament. Once – though I have not the slightest interest in sports – he told me about a Parsee cricket team which had come from Bombay and made a tour of England. Apparently they were the first team from India to visit these shores.’
    ‘1886, I believe. Played about thirty, won only a single match, I’m afraid. Forgive me – in my idle hours I am a student of Wisden. They returned a couple of years later, with better results, I seem to remember.’
    ‘You see, Sir Arthur, you are more knowledgeable than I am.