ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
Tuesday, April 4th.—When introducing a Budget designed to raise a revenue of seventy or eighty millions, Mr. Gladstone was wont to speak for four or five hours. Mr. McKenna, confronted with the task of raising over five hundred millions, polished off the job in exactly seventy-five minutes. Mr. Gladstone used to consider it necessary to prepare the way for each new impost by an elaborate argument. That was all very well in peace-time. But we are at war, when more than ever time is money, and so Mr. McKenna was content to rely upon the imperative formula of the gentlemen of the road, "Stand and deliver."
For a moment, it is true, he reverted to the old traditions of Budget-night. After observing that there was no parallel in history to the willingness to be taxed which had been displayed by the British people, he declared that it would be a mistake to drive this spirit of public sacrifice too hard. The difficulty which many people had in maintaining a standard of life suitable to their condition was described in such moving terms as to convince some of Mr. McKenna's more ingenuous hearers that the income-tax was not going to be raised after all.
They were quickly disillusionised. The rich will have to contribute (with super-tax) close on half their incomes; the comparatively well-to-do a fourth; even the class to whose special hardships the Chancellor had just made such pathetic allusion will have to pay an additional sixpence in the pound. If in the circumstances some of them feel inclined to echo Sir Peter Teazle's remark to Joseph, "Oh, damn your sentiment," I think they may be excused.
That, however, was Mr. McKenna's only lapse. The rest of his speech was ruthlessly and refreshingly practical. The millions were ticked off as rapidly, and almost as mechanically, as the two-pences in the other taxis. Five millions from cinemas, horse-races, and other amusements, three from railway tickets, seven from sugar, two from mineral waters, another two from coffee and cocoa (even the great Liberal drink cannot escape under a Cocoalition), and nearly a million from motor vehicles.
Forty-five years ago Mr. Lowe proposed to extract "ex luce lucellum" by putting a tax of a half-penny a box upon matches, and was duly punished for his pun. When the matchmakers of the East-end (quite as dangerous in their way as those of the West-end) marched in procession to the House of Commons, the Government bowed before the storm. Undeterred by their fate, Mr. McKenna now proposes to put a tax of 4d. on every thousand matches, and expects to get two millions out of it. But it must not be forgotten that there are substitutes for matches; and I should not be surprised if Mr. McKenna himself has to put up with a spill.
Not much criticism was however to be heard to-night, though Mr. William O'Brien gave it as his opinion that Ireland ought to be omitted from the Budget altogether. With him was Mr. Timothy Healy, whose principal complaint was that the tax on railway tickets would put a premium on foreign travel. People would go to Paris instead of Dublin, and Switzerland instead of Killarney. Here somebody tactlessly reminded him that a war was going on in Europe, and shunted him on to a less picturesque line of argument.
Wednesday, April 5th.—Congratulations are due to the Earl of Meath on a long-delayed triumph. For fifteen years he has been trying to convince the British Government that there is an institution called Empire Day. Throughout the Dominions, May 24th, Queen Victoria's birthday, is kept as a public holiday, and even in the Old Country, despite official discouragement, the Union Jack is hoisted on thousands of schools and saluted by millions of children. To the suggestion that the public offices should be similarly adorned the Government, under the erroneous belief that patriotism and militarism were identical, has hitherto maintained an unflagging opposition. But to-day Lord Crewe admitted that the proposal was reasonable.
Sir George Reid has made the surprising discovery that there are a number of excellent speakers in the House of Commons who do not speak, but concentrate themselves upon the despatch of business. Perhaps this was his genial way of indicating the more obvious fact that there are others of a precisely opposite kind. He himself is an excellent speaker who speaks; but concentration is perhaps hardly his strongest point, and he wandered to-day over so many fields that the Chairman had more than once, with obvious regret, to recall him to the strict path of the Finance Bill, which ultimately passed its first reading, amid cheers that it would have done the Kaiser good to hear.
Mr. Pemberton-Billing, having been prevented by the Budget from making his usual Tuesday speech, delivered it to-day, and had a success which was, I trust, as gratifying to him as it was surprising to the House.
Wife. "Do you think the Zeppelins will come here?"
Husband. "Very possibly, I should say."
Wife. "Then I shan't start the Spring cleaning."
At the close of his now customary catalogue of the defects he has discovered in our air-service, he offered personally to organize raids upon the enemy's aircraft headquarters, and ventured to believe that he could bag as many Zeppelins in a day as the Government could bring down in a year by their present methods of misplaced guns and misplaced confidence.
Mr. Tennant did not think our confidence was misplaced. But he would certainly accept Mr. Billing's offer, and would confer with him as to how to make the best use of his services. It seems probable, therefore, that for some little time the House will have to do without its weekly lecture from the Member for East Herts. Under the shadow of this impending bereavement Mr. Tennant is bearing up as well as can be expected.
Thursday, April 6th.—Everyone was delighted to see the Prime Minister back in his place to-day after his three weeks' absence. Members on both sides cheered loudly and long as he entered the House. They also displayed a gratifying curiosity regarding his views on various subjects, and to that end had put down no fewer than thirty-two questions for his consideration. The amount of information they received was hardly commensurate with the industry displayed in framing them. Mr. Asquith made, however, one announcement of great moment. The Government are now considering how many recruits they have got, and how many they still want. They will then announce their decision as to the method to be adopted for obtaining more, and will give a day for its discussion. This is to be done before Easter. Asked how long the House would adjourn for, Mr. Asquith replied, with obvious sincerity, "I hope for some time."
The great crisis of which we have heard so much in the newspapers is thus postponed. But a little crisis, not altogether unconnected with the other, had still to be resolved. The Government had a motion down to stop the payment of double salaries to Members on service, and to this Sir Frederick Banbury had tabled an amendment providing that Parliamentary salaries should be dropped altogether. Mr. Duke and other Unionists subsequently put down another amendment, designed to stop the discussion of the larger question on the ground that it was a breach of the party truce.
The Speaker however decided that Sir Frederick was entitled to first cut at the Banbury cake. He made, as I thought, a very fair and not unduly partisan use of his opportunity, arguing that the conditions of Parliamentary life had changed since the War, and that as Members were no longer called upon to work hard they should save the country a quarter-of-a-million by dropping their salaries.
No one, I think, was prepared for the tremendous blast of invective which came from Mr. Duke. In language which seemed to cause some trepidation even to the Ministers he was supporting he denounced his right hon. friend for introducing "this stale and stinking bone of contention," and plainly hinted that it was part of a plot to get rid of the Prime Minister. If that eminent temperance advocate, Sir Thomas Whittaker, had not poured water into Mr. Duke's wine, and emptied the House in the process, there might have been a painful scene.