ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
House of Commons, Monday Night, April 13.—So long since Lord STALBRIDGE parted company from RICHARD GROSVENOR that he forgets manners and customs of House of Commons. Not being satisfied with choice made by Committee of Selection of certain Members on Committee dealing with Railway Rates and Charges, STALBRIDGE writes peremptory letter to Chairman, giving him severe wigging; correspondence gets into newspapers; House of Commons, naturally enough, very angry. Not going to stand this sort of thing from a mere Peer, even though he be Chairman of North-Western Railway. Talk of making it case of privilege. Sort of thing expected to be taken up from Front Bench, or by WHITBREAD, or some other Member of standing. Somehow, whilst thing being thought over and talked about, SEXTON undertakes to see it through. As soon as questions over tonight, rises from below Gangway, and in his comically impressive manner, announces intention of putting certain questions to JOHN MOWBRAY, Chairman of Committee of Selection. Ordinary man would have put his questions and sat down. But this a great occasion for SEXTON. Domestic difficulties in Irish Party kept him away from Westminster for many weeks. No opportunity for Windbag to come into action; now is the time, as champion of privileges of House of Commons. Position one of some difficulty. Not intending to conclude with a Motion, he would be out of order in making a speech. Could only ask question. Question couldn't possibly extend over two minutes; two minutes, nothing: with the Windbag full, bursting after compulsory quiescence since Parliament opened.
SEXTON managed admirably; kept one eye on SPEAKER, who from time to time moved uneasily in chair. Whenever he looked like going to interrupt, SEXTON lapsed into interrogatory, which put him in order; then went on again, patronising JOHN MOWBRAY, posing as champion of privileges of House, and so thoroughly enjoying himself, that only a particularly cantankerous person could have complained. Still, it was a little long. "This isn't SEXTON'S funeral, is it?" HARCOURT asked, in loud whisper.
"No," said CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN; "it was meant to be STALBRIDGE'S; but I fancy SEXTON will save him from full inconvenience of the ceremony."
So it turned out; House tired of business long before Windbag SEXTON had blown himself out. Poor JOHN MOWBRAY admittedly flabber-ghasted by the interminable string of questions under which SEXTON had tried to disguise his speech. STALBRIDGE got off without direct censure, and DONALD CAMERON abruptly turned the conversation in the direction of Opium.
Business done.—In Committee on Irish Land Bill.
House of Lords, Tuesday.—Lords met to-night after Easter Recess; come together with a feeling that since last they met a gap been made in their ranks that can never be filled. The gentle GRANVILLE'S seat is occupied by another. Never more will the Peers look upon his kindly face, or hear his lisping voice uttering bright thoughts in exquisite phrase.
KIMBERLEY sits where he was wont to lounge. K. a good safe man; one of the rare kind whose reputation stands highest with the innermost circle of those who work and live with him. To the outside world, the man in the street, KIMBERLEY is an expression; some not quite sure whether he isn't a territory in South Africa. Known in the Lords, of course; listened to with respect, much as HALLAM'S Constitutional History of England is occasionally read. But when tonight he rises from GRANVILLE'S seat and makes a speech that, with readjustment of circumstance, GRANVILLE himself would have made, an assembly not emotional feels with keen pang how much it has lost.
The MARKISS should be here. Perhaps for himself it is as well he's away. To him, more than anyone else in the House, the newly filled space on the Bench opposite is of direful import. _The MARKISS has no peer now GRANVILLE is gone; the two were in all characteristics and mental attitudes absolutely opposed, and yet, like oil and vinegar, the mixing perfected the salad of debate. The lumbering figure of the black-visaged Marquis at one side of the table talking at large to the House, but with his eye fixed on GRANVILLE; at the other, the dapper figure, with its indescribable air of old-fashioned gentlemanhood, the light of his smile shed impartially on the benches opposite, but his slight bow reserved for the MARKISS, as, leaning across the table, he pinked him under the fifth rib with glittering rapier—this is a sight that will never more gladden the eye in the House of Lords. GRANVILLE was the complement of the MARKISS; the MARKISS was to GRANVILLE an incentive to his bitter-sweetness. Never again will they meet to touch shield with lance across the table in the Lords. LYCIDAS is dead, not ere his prime, it is true;
"But, O the heavy change, now thou art gone,
Now thou art gone, and never must return!"
It seemed in stumbling inadequate phrase that CRANBROOK, KIMBERLEY, DERBY, and SELBORNE strummed their lament. But, speaking from different points of view, without pre-concert, they struck the same chord in recognising the ever unruffled gentleness of the nature of LYCIDAS—a gentleness not born of weakness, a sweetness of disposition that did not unwholesomely cloy. Only Mr. G. could have fitly spoken the eulogy of GRANVILLE. After him, the task belonged to the MARKISS, and it was a pity that circumstances prevented his undertaking it. Business done,—Irish Land Bill in Commons.
Wednesday.—Brer FOX turned up today, unexpectedly. So did MAURICE HEALY, even more unexpectedly. Irish Sunday Closing Bill under discussion. Great bulk of Irish Members in favour of it. First note of discord introduced by Windbag SEXTON. Belfast Publicans, who find their business threatened, insist that he shall oppose the Bill; does so accordingly, separating himself from his party. Brer FOX quickly seized the opportunity; he, too, on he side of the Publicans, who hold the purse, and, money (like some of their customers) is tight. So PARNELL lavishly compliments Windbag SEXTON on his "large and patriotic view"; hisses out his scorn for the Liberal Party; declares that Ireland abhors the measure, which he calls a New Coercion Bill.
Then, from bench below him, uprises a bent, slight figure, looking less like a man of war than most things. A low, quiet voice, sounds clearly through the House, and Mr. MAURICE HEALY is discovered denying Brer FOX'S right to speak on this or any other public question for the constituency of Cork.
"If he has any doubt on this subject," the mild-looking young man continued, "let him keep the promise he made to me about contesting the seat."
That was all; only two sentences; but the thundering cheers that rang through House told how they had gone home.
Business done.—Irish Sunday Closing Bill read Second Time.
Friday.—GRANDOLPH looked in for few minutes before dinner. A little difficulty with doorkeeper. So disguised under beard, that failed to recognise him; thought he was a stranger, bound for the Gallery. But when GRANDOLPH turned, and glared on him, saw his mistake as in a flash of lightning.
"Same eyes, anyhow," said Mr. JARRATT, getting back to the safety of his chair with alacrity.
GRANDOLPH sat awhile in corner seat, stroking his beard, to the manifest chagrin of his jilted moustache.
"Awfully dull," he said. "Glad I'm off to other climes; don't know whether I shall come back at all. If Mashonaland wants a King, and insists upon my accepting the Crown, not sure I shall refuse."
"GRANDOLPH seems hipped," said WARING, watching him as he swung through the Lobby. "It's the beard. Never been the same man since he grew it.
"There was a Young Man with a beard,
Who said, 'It is just as I feared!
Two Owls and a Hen, four Larks and a Wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard.'"
Business done.—Committee on Irish Land Bill Dropping into Poetry, again.
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