EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
House of Commons, Monday, April 10. —"Quite refreshing," murmured Grandolph, looking round at the Party, to which, as he said at Liverpool the other day, he is thoroughly attached, "to see how good Conservatives enjoy Chamberlain's Speech. They are as jubilant now as they were a few years ago, when I attacked Joseph in connection with Aston-Park Riots. A topsy-turvy world; most of us where we never thought to find ourselves, or be found; oddest of all, surely, is to hear Chamberlain of Birmingham enthusiastically cheered in House of Commons by great Conservative Party. They mean it, too," Grandolph added, still scanning the beaming faces on the Benches behind. "It is almost an intellectual delight to them."
"Yes," said Plunket, "they are acutely pleased to hear so smartly said what they think they thought."
Truly a stirring of the sluggish pool during hour and half that Chamberlain stepped in. Speech full of bitterness; effect immeasurably increased by perfect equability of manner, and the utterance of a voice ever soft and low—a beautiful thing in a man who says nasty things of parted friends. If one stone deaf had sat in Gallery and watched Joseph, as he gracefully bent over towards Treasury Bench, whereon sat his one-time revered Leader and the still faithful band of followers, he would naturally have imagined Joseph was complimenting him and them upon the perfectness of their measure, and the prospect of the Irish wilderness, under its beneficent influence, blossoming like the rose. Deaf man would have been mistaken; Joseph saying nothing of the kind; indeed, quite the reverse, as deaf man, turning his eyes on Mr. G., would begin to suspect.
Wide differences between Mr. G. and J. C.; none so marked as their demeanour throughout debate. The wilder the storm of interruption rages round Joseph, the more urbane he becomes, and the more dangerous. Mr. G., standing on the commanding eminence he has built for himself in the House of Commons, is the sport of most inconsiderable Member. Anyone, with whatever bungling hand, can "draw" him. To-night, whilst Joseph smiled his way through all the spiteful things he had stored up for gratification of old friends, Mr. G. sat restless, with clouded brow, face pale with anger, every now and then springing up with hot correction. Which was just what Joseph wanted to achieve.
Business done.—Third Day Debate on Second Reading Home-Rule Bill.
Tuesday.—Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett (Knight) back again. "He's Knight and Morning," said leal Tom Sutherland, of the P. & O., looking on admiringly from the starboard poop. In a sense this is true, for Ashmead gave us a full hour's discourse last night, and here in broad day, on threshold of another sitting, proposes to add another forty minutes. Prince Arthur had quite a time with him last night. He was, so to speak, the Boy left on the Burning Deck whence all but he Had Fled. Right Hon. Gentlemen on Front Opposition Bench, following example set in other parts of House, cleared out when Ashmead appeared at table with prodigious roll of manuscript in red right hand. Prince Arthur looked wistfully towards door, but, remembering leading precept of Old Morality, determined to stay, and do duty to Queen and Country. So sat it out till midnight struck; Debate automatically closed, and Speaker called on next Order of the Day.
Ashmead, pleased with his success, and pondering on fresh delights in store for House when it met again, remained standing at table, reflectively arranging his papers. Horrible thought suddenly struck him; froze his veins, and paled his brow. With generous desire that country should fully share advantages of House, he had his speech printed in advance. Copies sent to newspapers. Suppose they printed it all, whereas he had not found opportunity to deliver more than half of it! Awakened from reverie by violent tugging at coat-tails. This was Prince Arthur, signalling him to sit down, with perhaps unnecessary vigour. But Prince Arthur had a long score (fully an hour long) to pay off.
Great speech finished at to-day's sitting; another hour saw it through. "I think I had my hour last night," said Prince Arthur, as, on rising of his esteemed colleague, he hastily passed out. Example again contagious; Benches emptied; but Ellis Ashmead pounded along. There was the speech reproachfully facing him in its portentous-printed length; must be reeled off, though the glass roof fell. Did it at last; sat down, flushed, and triumphant. Members, warily assuring themselves speech really finished, began to stream back again, till all the Benches filled to hear Davitt. Excellent speech; full of human nature; illumined by gleams of grim, humour; better if it had been shorter by a third; but quality so good, that House, now crowded, sat it all out.
POLITICAL ECONOMY-AND THE REFORMERS' IDEA OF HOW THE OFFICIALS SHOULD BE TREATED.
A Nasty One for Joseph; or, a Gentle Reminder from Just-in Time McC-rthy.
"Curious to think," said the Squire of Malwood, who just now has unusually full opportunities for reflection, "that a few years ago Davitt was working out the Irish Question with a rope over his shoulder, dragging a cart of stones through the court-yard of one of Her Majesty's prisons. No one, casually coming across him at Portland, would have ventured to forecast the hour when, standing up, the centre of interest in an applauding House of Commons, he should have had an opportunity of reasoning with the only occasionally Dum Barton, warning him against the practice of treason-felony, and reminding him that the pathway to the Bench does not lie by way of the dock. No parallel in politics to the Irish Question. Some of us have our earlier studies interrupted by a sentence of imprisonment; others, I daresay, will, later on, find in similar chaste repose opportunity of reviewing our connection with it."
Mr. D-v-tt says no British Bill can pass while the Irish Bill blocks the way.
Involuntarily the eye of the Great Philosopher rested on the graceful figure of Prince Arthur, whose speech at Belfast, on the Philosophy of Rebellion, Davitt just now cited in justification of the overt acts that led him to Portland.
Business done.—Fourth Night Home-Rule Debate.
Thursday.—"In spite of all temptation, I have hitherto remained a Member of House of Commons," Chaplin said to me just now. "I might by this time, had I pleased, been a Duke, and my most unscrupulous detractor will not deny that is a position I could fill with pictorial effect; but I've stuck to the Commons, and this is my reward."
Truly a striking episode. Chaplin delivered oration on Home-Rule Bill hour and half long. Had sat up night and day with it, polishing its rotund periods, till, as Prince Arthur whispers, "Chaplin, gazing upon their surface, saw not himself, but Demosthenes." Fortune favoured him in opportunity. Member for Sunderland had secured privilege of resuming Debate after Questions. Resolved to make long Storey short, he sacrificed his position. Chaplin nimbly stepped in, and reasonably looked forward to crowning epoch in shining Parliamentary career. To open or resume Debate between four and five in afternoon is a prized opportunity; accident had placed it within Chaplin's grasp; the hour had struck, and here, at the table, was the Man.
Alack, for the instability of human prospects! When the House, fairly full, beheld the sunny presence at the table, watched it produce the vaporous folds of manuscript, noted the shrug of satisfaction with which it set about its self-appointed task, it folded its tent like the Arab, and, though not as silently, stole away. Trundled and bundled out, with ostentatious indifference to great orator, the fund of information he had garnered, the counsel with which he was charged. Chaplin had brought statesmanship and literature of Europe into review, picking out from encyclopædic stores testimony to destruction of Mr. G.'s pet scheme. The very names quoted were a liberal education—Mr. Lecky, Count Beust, Cavour, Dr. Geffcken, M. de Molinaris. And then interposes the Sage of Queen Anne's Gate with bland deferential inquiry—
"I beg the Right Hon. Gentleman's pardon, I did not catch the name. Was it M. Apollinaris?"
M. L-b-ch-re (thinking of Welsh Disestablishment, asks Mr. Ch-pl-n). "Did you say 'Mr. Ap Ollinaris?'"
Chaplin stared haughtily over Sage's head, and went on. So did fragments of audience, the latter towards the door, till, almost in solitude, there rolled forth the treasured peroration. This bad, but worse followed, when immediately succeeded an obscure Irishman, whom Chaplin vaguely remembers a few years back as a Committee Clerk, or something of that kind. Benches swiftly filled up, and an assembly that vaunts itself most critical audience in the world followed, with rapt attention, the simple sentences of obscure John Redmond, Ex-Committee Clerk—this same audience that had scornfully treated the portentous periods of the Right Hon. Henry Chaplin, sometime Cabinet Minister.
Business done.—Fifth Night's Debate.
Friday.—Prince Arthur, enumerating Statesmen anxious to speak in Debate, doling them out at the rate of one a day, omitted Cousin Cranborne. Doubtless accidental; Noble Lord has his revenge; worked off his speech to-night whilst Asquith addressing House. Consisted of only single word; effect instantaneous, startling. Into Asquith's fervent eulogium on Davitt, Cranborne dropped the additional description, "Murderer." Was only thinking aloud as he explained to House; just talking genially to himself; regretted he was overheard, and begged to apologise.
"It's the principle of heredity," said Tim Healy; "the father calls us all Hottentots; the son accuses one of us of murder."
Business done.—Sixth Night's Debate on Home-Rule Bill.