beyond such persons. We English have an important advantage over foreigners in

this respect and it is for this reason that when you think of a great butler, he

is bound, almost by definition, to be an Englishman.

 

Of course, you may retort, as did Mr Graham whenever I expounded such a line

during those enjoyable discussions by the fire, that if I am correct in what I

am saying, one could recognize a great butler as such only after one had seen

him perform under some severe test. And yet the truth is, we accept persons such

as Mr Marshall or Mr Lane to be great, though most of us cannot claim to have

ever scrutinized them under such conditions. I have to admit Mr Graham has a

point here, but all I can say is that after one has been in the profession as

long as one has, one is able to judge intuitively the depth of a man's

professionalism without having to see it under pressure. Indeed, on the occasion

one is fortunate enough to meet a great butler, far from experiencing any

sceptical urge to demand a 'test', one is at a loss to imagine any situation

which could ever dislodge a professionalism borne with such authority. In fact,

I am sure it was an apprehension of this sort, penetrating even the thick haze

created by alcohol, which reduced my father's passengers into a shamed silence

that Sunday afternoon many years ago. It is with such men as it is with the

English landscape seen at its best as I did this morning: when one encounters

them, one simply knows one is in the presence of greatness.

 

There will always be, I realize, those who would claim that any attempt to

analyse greatness as I have been doing is quite futile. "You know when

somebody's got it and you know when somebody hasn't," Mr Graham's argument would