Extracted From the Diary of Toby, M.P.
House of Commons, Monday Night, March 13.—No use disguising fact that when House discovered Frederick Milner standing behind Front Opposition Bench, brandishing heavy boot in his hand as he addressed Asquith, it held its breath. Political passion runs pretty high of late; Opposition stirred to deepest depths by persistence of Government in attempting to read Home-Rule Bill Second Time before Easter. There have been sittings after midnight; sittings through Saturday; hot words bandied about; preparation for deadly duel in lobby. No one can say whither men may be led when once they permit angry passions to rise. Charles Russell, whose acquaintance with criminal classes is extensive, tells me it is by no means uncommon thing for prisoner in dock to take off boot and hurl it at head of presiding Magistrate or Judge.
"Usually an old woman who does it," he added.
"But this is Sir Frederick Milner, Bart.," I said.
"Um!" said Russell, with odd significance in the observation.
Turns out the apprehension groundless. Milner only wants to know why Police at Leeds and Bradford should enjoy ultimate resources of civilisation in respect of "Scaith's silent boots," whilst London Policemen not so privileged? Milner tells me his earliest idea was to get a pair of the boots, put 'em on, and surprise Speaker by approaching with noiseless tread from behind Chair, lean over his shoulder, and suddenly say, "Boo!" That, Milner thought, would be conclusive proof of the efficacy of the boots as making the tread inaudible. On other hand, Speaker mightn't like it. So, by way of compromise, brought down odd boot in tail-pocket of his coat, and shook it at Home Secretary when he put question.
Asquith behaved very well under trying circumstances. Did not visibly blench; answered, in off-hand manner, that London Police had had opportunity of substituting the silent boot for those in ordinary use, and had not availed themselves of it. Some had objected on domestic grounds. Female friends engaged in responsible posts in certain households on their beat were accustomed to the sound of their footfall on the pavement, and would not have things ready if they approached like rose-leaves flitting over shaven lawns. Others, assuming higher ground, resented silent boot as taking unfair advantage of the burglar or footpad. "Give a 'ardworking cove a fair chanst, that's my motter," one honest fellow in blue said to Home Secretary when Right Hon. Gentleman brought silent boot under his notice. No use attempting to run counter to feeling of this kind. Conclusion in which Dicky Temple heartily concurred.
"Silent boot," he said, "forced upon Metropolitan Police might play in history a part analogous to that of the greased cartridges on which we slipped into the Indian Mutiny."
Milner saw it was evidently no use, so returning boot to coat-tail pocket, moodily regarded Treasury Bench.
