ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
House of Commons, Monday, August 20.—Ashmead-Bartlett (Knight) is the Casabianca of Front Opposition Bench. All but he have fled. Now his opportunity; will show jealous colleagues, watchful House, and interested country, how a party should be led. Had an innings on Saturday, when, in favourite character of Dompter of British and other Lions, he worried Under Secretaries for Foreign Affairs and the Colonies. Didn't get much out of them. In fact what happened seems to confirm quaint theory Sark advances.
Says he believes those two astute young men, Edward Grey and Sydney Buxton, "control" the Sheffield Knight. They are active and ambitious. Still only juniors. Moreover, things are managed so well both at Foreign Office and Colonial Office that they have no opportunity of distinguishing themselves. The regular representatives on the Front Opposition Bench of Foreign Affairs and Colonies say nothing; patriotically acquiescent in management of concerns in respect of which it is the high tradition of English statesmanship that the political game shall not be played. In such circumstances no opening for able young men. But, suppose they could induce some blatant, irresponsible person, persistently to put groundless questions, and make insinuations derogatory to the character of British statesmen at home and British officials abroad? Then they step in, and, amid applause on both sides of House, knock over the intruder. Sort of game of House of Commons nine-pins. Nine-pin doesn't care so that it's noticed; admirable practice for young Parliamentary Hands.
This is Sark's suggestion of explanation of phenomenon. Fancy much simpler one might be found. To-night Bartlett-Ellis in better luck. Turns upon Attorney-General; darkly hints that escape of Jabez was a put-up job, of which Law Officers of the Crown might, an' they would, disclose some interesting particulars. Rigby, who, when he bends his step towards House of Commons, seems to leave all his shrewdness and knowledge of the world in his chambers, rose to the fly; played Bashmead-Artlett's obvious game by getting angry, and delivering long speech whilst progress of votes, hitherto going on swimmingly, was arrested for fully an hour.
Business done.—Supply voted with both hands.
Tuesday.—A precious sight, one worthy of the painter's or sculptor's art, to see majestic figure of Squire of Malwood standing between House of Lords and imminent destruction. Irish members and Radicals opposite have sworn to have blood of the Peers. Sage of Queen Anne's Gate is taking the waters elsewhere. In his absence do the best we can. Sat up all last night, the Radicals trying to get at the Lords by the kitchen entrance; Squire withstanding them till four o'clock in the morning. Began again to-night. Education Vote on, involving expenditure of six millions and welfare of innumerable children. Afterwards the Post Office Vote, upon which the Postmaster-General, St. Arnold-le-Grand, endeavours to reply to Henniker-Heaton without betraying consciousness of bodily existence of such a person. These matters of great and abiding interest; but only few members present to discuss them. The rest waiting outside till the lists are cleared and battle rages once more round citadel of the Lords sullenly sentineled by detachment from the Treasury Bench.
When engagement reopened Squire gone for his holiday trip, postponed by the all-night sitting, John Morley on guard. Breaks force of assault by protest that the time is inopportune. By-and-by the Lords shall be handed over to tender mercies of gentlemen below gangway. Not just now, and not in this particular way. Chief Secretary remembers famous case of absentee landlord not to be intimidated by the shooting of his agent. So Lords, he urges, not to be properly punished for throwing out Evicted Tenants Bill by having the salaries of the charwomen docked, and Black Rod turned out to beg his bread.
Radicals at least not to be denied satisfaction of division. Salaries of House of Lords staff secured for another year by narrow majority of 31.
Business done.—Nearly all.
Wednesday.—The Squire of Malwood at last got off for his well-earned holiday. Carries with him consciousness of having done supremely well amid difficulties of peculiar complication. As Joseph in flush of unexpected and still unexplained frankness testified, the Session will in its accomplished work beat the record of any in modern times. The Squire been admirably backed by a rare team of colleagues; but in House of Commons everything depends on the Leader. Had the Session been a failure, upon his head would have fallen obloquy. As it has been a success, his be the praise.
"Well, good bye," said John Morley, tears standing in his tender eyes as he wrung the hand of the almost Lost Leader. "But you know it's not all over yet. There's the Appropriation Bill. What shall we do if Weir comes up on Second Reading?"
"Oh, dam Weir," said the Squire.
John Morley inexpressibly shocked. For a moment thought a usually equable temper had been ruffled by the almost continuous work of twenty months, culminating in an all-night sitting. On reflection he saw that the Squire was merely adapting an engineering phrase, describing a proceeding common enough on river courses. The only point on which remark open to criticism is that it is tautological.
Business done.—Appropriation Bill brought in.
Thursday.—George Newnes looked in just now; much the same as ever; the same preoccupied, almost pensive look; a mind weighed down by ever-multiplying circulation. Troubled with consideration of proposal made to him to publish special edition of Strand Magazine in tongue understanded of the majority of the peoples of India. Has conquered the English-speaking race from Chatham to Chattanooga, from Southampton to Sydney. Now lo! The poor Indian brings his annas, and begs a boon.
Meanwhile one of the candidates for vacant Poet Laureateship has broken out into elegiac verse. "Newnes," he exclaims,
"Newnes, noble hearted, shine, for ever shine; Though not of royal, yet of hallowed line."
That sort of thing would make some men vain. There is no couplet to parallel it since the famous one written by Pope on a place frequented by a Sovereign whose death is notorious, a place where
Great Anna, whom three realms obey, Did sometimes counsel take and sometimes tea.
The poet, whose volume bears the proudly humble pseudonym "A Village Peasant," should look in at the House of Commons and continue his studies. There are a good many of us here worth a poet's attention. Sark says the thing is easy enough. "Toss 'em off in no time," says he. "There's the Squire now, who has not lately referred to his Plantagenet parentage. Apostrophising him in Committee on Evicted Tenants Bill one might have said:—
Squire, noble hearted, shine, for ever shine; Though not of hallowed yet of royal line."
Business done.—Appropriation Bill read second time. Weir turned up. Sir Wilfrid Lawson and others said "Dam."
Saturday.—Appropriation Bill read third time this morning. Prorogation served with five o'clock tea.
"Parleyment!" said one of the House of Commons waiters loitering at the gateway of Palace Yard and replying to inquiring visitor from the country. "Parleyment's horff." So am I.
Business done.—All.
The Imperial Sheffield Nine-pin.
Invaluable to Budding Statesmen.