THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
House of Commons, Monday, July 21.—RITCHIE got another Bill through; not a measure of high imperial policy; nothing to do either with Heligoland or Zanzibar; only proposes to improve in various ways the dwellings of the industrial classes. Still, as JOKIM has shown in connection with one or two of his little Bills, it is quite possible nearly to wreck a Ministry even on matter-of-fact business arrangements. But RITCHIE isn't JOKIM, and so his Bill passes to-night, taking two steps at a time, both sides uniting in congratulation and cheers. WALTER FOSTER, rising, salutes the Minister with a quite touching bless-you-my-child attitude. FOSTER rather hints that the Bill everyone is so pleased with, is really his. True, RITCHIE'S name is on back, and he took charge of it in its passage through Committee and House. But the real man was FOSTER; his Amendments had made the Bill; he had moulded it in Committee, and now here he was to give it his blessing. Rather delicate position; sort of cracking up himself, which FOSTER would not do for the world; blushed a little, as he praised the Bill; otherwise accomplished his task with ease and grace, whilst RITCHIE, listening, twitched his eyebrows, and thought unutterable things.
"I wish," said OLD MORALITY, "we had an embarrassment of RITCHIES, or even two or three more like him."
OLD MORALITY been rather worried to-night; a hail-storm of questions on all sorts of subjects; amongst others, TIM HEALY and WILFRID LAWSON badgering him about the Local Taxation Bill. When is it really intended to take it? LAWSON asks OLD MORALITY back at the table again for twentieth time; literally gasping for breath; looked round House with anguished expression; then happy thought strikes him; "Mr. SPEAKER, Sir," he says, "it is really impossible to do more than one thing at a time."
The pathetic earnestness with which this axiom was advanced, the sudden swift spasm of conviction that had flashed it across his mind, his certainty of the soundness of the assertion (paradoxical though it might appear), and his hasty, anxious glance below the Gangway opposite, apprehensive that that quarter would peradventure furnish a person capable of controverting it, all filled the House with keen delight. Laughed for full sixty seconds by Westminster clock; OLD MORALITY standing at table looking round and wondering what on earth he'd said now.
Business done.—Census Bills read Second Time.
Tuesday.—Pretty quiet sitting, till DIMSDALE craftily crept upon the scene. Don't often hear from this distinguished member of the Order of Noble Barons; generally content to serve his country by voting for the Government. To-night stirred in sluggish depths by omission of Government in preparing Census Bill to provide for Religious Census; so the Noble Baron moves Amendment designed to authorise Religious Census. Opposition Benches nearly empty; those present listen listlessly; know it's all right; Government are pledged against Religious Census; no harm in the Noble Baron moving his Amendment and making his speech; the Bill as introduced is safe.
Then up gets RITCHIE; drops remark, in off-hand manner, as if it did not signify, that Members on Ministerial side are free to vote as they please. Sudden change of attitude in Opposition Benches. Listlessness vanishes; a whisper of treachery goes round; CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN makes hot protest; HARCOURT sent for; comes in gleefully; matters been going so quietly, place unbearable for him; now a row imminent, HARCOURT joyously returns to Front Bench. Seats fill up on both sides; OLD MORALITY hurries in; situation explained to him; dolefully shakes his head; HARCOURT thunders denunciation of a Ministry that plays fast and loose with House; then OLD MORALITY gets up, and publicly abjures DIMSDALE and his Amendment. It was, he explained, only RITCHIE'S fun in saying Ministerialists were free to vote as they pleased on this matter. The Government were against the Amendment, and of course good Ministerialists would vote with Ministers. So they did, and DIMSDALE'S rising hopes crushed by majority of 288 against 69.
Business done.—English Census Bill passed through Committee.
Wednesday.—Came across NICHOLAS WOOD in remote corner of Corridor; had the depressed look familiar when he has been wrestling with great mental problems and finds himself worsted.
"What's the matter now, NICHOLAS? Thinking over what OLD MORALITY said yesterday about impossibility of doing more than one thing at a time?"
"No, TOBY," he said, wearily; "it's not that; gave that up at once. OLD MORALITY's a good fellow, but he's too subtle for me. It's this Police Question that bothers me; give up a good deal of time to mastering it. Sort of thing seemed likely to suit me; heard all MATTHEWS' speeches; tried to follow CUNNINGHAME GRAHAM; courted CONYBEARE'S company, and pursued PICKERSGILL with inquiries. Thought I'd got a pretty clear notion of what it all meant; and now it turns out all to have led up to making PULESTON Constable of Carnarvon. Never heard his name before in connection with the Police Question. He took no part in discussions; had nothing to do with it I ever heard of; just when I was comfortably getting on another tack, the whole question centres on PULESTON. It seems he was the Police Question, and now he's Constable of Carnarvon. Why Carnarvon? Why not stationed in the Lobby or the Central Hall where he would be with old friends? Suppose he'll wear a blue coat, bright buttons, and a belt, and will shadow LOYD-GEORGE who now sits for Carnarvon? If you write to him must you address your letters "P.C. PULESTON"? and shall we have to change refrain of our latest National Hymn? instead of singing 'Ask a Policeman?' shall we have to chant 'Ask a PULESTON?' These are the new problems; suddenly rushed in, bothering me to death when I thought I'd got pretty well through Session, Recess close at hand and no more difficult points coming up. Don't think, TOBY, I was cut out for politics; perhaps I take them too seriously; but like to know things, and there are so many things to know."
Try to cheer up NICHOLAS; suggest to him that he should put his questions down on the paper; might address them to FERGUSON; a little out of the way of Foreign Affairs; but a conversation publicly conducted between NICHOLAS and FERGUSON would be interesting.
Business done.—Votes in Supply.
Friday.—House in rather strange condition to-night; things all sevens and sixes; Motion is that Anglo-German Agreement Bill be read Second Time. Opinion very mixed on merits of measure; on the whole, no particular objection to it, even though with it goes Heligoland. Still, an Opposition must oppose; but where is the Opposition? Mr. G. came down last night; said he'd no particular objection to Treaty, but didn't like the process of confirming it; so publicly washed his hands of the business. Since the announcement appeared in papers, HERBERT tells me his illustrious father's life has been a burden to him. Every post brings him letters from rival advertising soap manufacturers, making overtures of business transactions.
"Sir," runs one of these epistles, "alluding to your statement in the House of Commons last night that you publicly washed your hands of participation in the Anglo-German Treaty, would you have any objection to our stating that the substance used was our celebrated Salubrious Savon? Anticipating your favourable reply, we assume that you would have no objection to our publishing a portrait of you using our soap, with its familiar label, 'Does not wash collars.' We have only to add that in the event of your favourably accepting this suggestion, we shall esteem it a favour to be allowed to gratuitously supply you and your family with specimens of our art for the term of your natural lives."
This is merely an incident in the struggle, illustrating one of the embarrassments it has evolved. Only man thoroughly happy is HARCOURT. He invented the line of attack on ground of breach of constitutional usages; put up Mr. G. to make his speech; supplied him with authorities, and in supplementary speech amazed House with his erudition. Made stupendous speech last night; literally gorged the House; to-night picks up fragments and provides another feast: six baskets wouldn't hold it.
"Wish, TOBY, dear boy," he said, sinking back in his seat after delivering his second speech, cunningly grafted on an Amendment, "we could carry this over next week. I could easily make a speech a day. Remember when I was once in Ireland, asked a tenant how he liked the new agent, who was reputed to be very able business man. 'Well,' said my acquaintance, 'I don't know about his business daylings, but for blasphaymious language, he's au revoir.' On constitutional questions, TOBY, I may, with all modesty, say I'm au revoir."
Business done.—Anglo-German Treaty agreed to.