“It is a pity that nothing has been done towards organising a body of Parliamentary guides.” Lord Mowbray was again at his pet grievance; he had never forgiven the Speaker for refusing to accept his services in the House, and he was convinced that the country’s ruin and Parliamentary decadence would be the results of their refusal.
“Oh! that has been the worst nut to crack; but we had to give it up,” and Danford sat down in one of the marble niches ensconced in the wall. “The House of Commons has its susceptibilities, its vanities, and, above all, its traditions; and it would not hear any of our suggestions. Just imagine for one minute, Ministers of State, Party leaders, being escorted by guides! The idea appeared preposterous to the Honourable Members, who thought they knew their own business better than any one else.”
“Certainly, at first, it seems natural to know one’s own party,” murmured Lionel as in a dream; “but in the long run it becomes more difficult than one imagines.”
“It must evidently be the case,” said Tom Hornsby in a bitter voice, “for you see what a hash they made with the Housing question. The House carried unanimously the Bill which, for a long time, had been obstructed at its second reading.”
“Very remarkable indeed,” sententiously said Danford. “I was there that day, and enjoyed the fun gloriously. I watched the House eagerly. The social and political labels were off, so they all listened unprejudiced to the orator’s convincing arguments. His reasons were not so much convincing from his own powers of persuasion, but because the listeners were off their guard and therefore accessible to rational impressions; and here we are the richer for one good law, and one that we never could have hoped for had Society continued to know one another by their exterior labels.”
“This will inevitably lead to the dissolution of the Upper House,” said Lionel.
“It remains with you to give the hint of abdication, my lord.” The little buffoon stood up and faced his pupil, while Temple, the empty cup in his hand, stood between the two, alternately looking at the one and the other. The group of men surrounding them were silent; and the sun, having slowly disappeared behind the trees of Hyde Park, had left the Frigidarium in a mysterious twilight most appropriate to the ominous words of Danford. “They will all follow your lordship. The reform must come from within. The dark days are over when you said to the rushing wave of the people: ‘Thou shalt go no further.’ They leapt over the rocks then, and, to prove their power, cut your heads off; which on the whole was a poor argument of persuasion, even if it was one of force. No lasting reform can be obtained but from within; and the Upper House has it in its power to avert the catastrophe of its downfall by taking voluntarily a leading part in all the reforms of our Society.”
“You mean by taking a backseat,” sniggered Lord Mowbray. The spell was broken, and the twilight scene of prophecy was transformed into one of malicious discord. “I cannot see what you want with the co-operation of publishers, Mr Danford; you are Diogenes and Lycurgus both rolled into one, and methinks you need no one to assist you in fixing our destinies.”
“I only give gentle hints concerning your future relations towards each other, Lord Mowbray; publishers will step in later, to inform you as to your intrinsic value.” Danford bowed to Lord Mowbray and, turning to Lionel, said, “Where do you intend going this evening, my lord?”
“After a light collation I am taking Hornsby to the Empire to see Holophernes; it was one of the great attractions before the storm.”