Mr. McKenna is, perhaps, the most striking instance of what determination can achieve in the way of health and physique.  His rowing Blue was the simple and direct result of taking pains—­in the form of a rowing dummy in which he practised in his own rooms.  The achievement was typical of a career which has in its dual success no parallel in modern life.  There have been many Chancellors of the Exchequer and many big men in the City.  That a man, after forcing his way to the front in politics, should transfer his activities to the City and become in a short four years its most commanding figure is unheard of.  And Mr. McKenna had the misfortune to enter public life with the handicap of a stutter.  He set himself to cure it by reading Burke aloud to his family, and he cured it.  He was then told by his political friends that he spoke too quickly to be effective.  He cured himself of this defect too, by rehearsing his speeches to a time machine—­an ordinary stop-watch, not one of the H.G.  Wells’ variety.  Indeed, if any man can be said to have “made himself,” it is Mr. McKenna.  He bridges the gulf between politics and the City, and brings one to a final instance of the purely business man.

Mr. Gordon Selfridge is an exemplar of the simple life practical in the midst of unbounded success.  He goes to his office every morning regularly at nine o’clock.  In the midst of opulence he eats a frugal lunch in a room which supplies the one thing of which he is avaricious—­big windows and plenty of fresh air.  For light and air spell for him, as for the rest of us, health and sound judgment.  He possesses, indeed, one terrible and hidden secret—­a kind of baron’s castle somewhere in the heart of South England, where he may retire beyond the pursuit of King or people, and hurl his defiance from its walls to all the intruders which threaten the balance of the mind.  No one has yet discovered this castle, for it exists only on paper.  When Mr. Gordon Selfridge requires mental relaxation, he may be found poring over the plans which are to be the basis of this fairy edifice.  Moat and parapet, tower, dungeon, and drawbridge, are all there, only awaiting the Mason of the future to translate them into actuality.  But the success of Mr. Selfridge lies in his frugality, and not in his dreams.  One can afford to have a castle in Spain when one possesses the money to pay for it.

It is the complexity of modern life which enforces moderation.  Science has created vast populations and huge industries, and also given the means by which single minds can direct them.  Invention gives these gifts, and compels man to use them.  Man is as much the slave as the master of the machine, as he turns to the telephone or the telegram.  In this fierce turmoil of the modern world he can only keep his judgment intact, his nerves sound, and his mind secure by the process of self-discipline, which may be equally defined as restraint, control, or moderation.  This is the price which must be paid for the gifts the gods confer.