ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
House of Commons, Monday, July 23.—Quite like old times to hear Tim Healy saying a few plain things about landlords; Prince Arthur replying; Tim growling out occasional contradiction; whilst O'Brien hotly interrupts. To make the reminiscence complete Joseph contributes a speech in which he heaps contumely and scorn on representatives of Irish nationality. Tim reminds him how different was his attitude, how varied his voice, at epoch of Kilmainham Treaty.
Tim has a rough but effective way of fastening upon a name or phrase, and even blatantly reiterating it. Thus, when Old Morality, in his kindly manner, once alluded to a visit paid to him at a critical time by his "old friend Mr. Walter," Tim leaped down upon it, and, characteristically leaving out the customary appellation, filled the air with scornful reference to "my old friend Walter." To-night, desiring to bring into sharp contrast Joseph's present attitude towards Ireland and the landlord party with that assumed by him twelve years ago, he insisted upon calling the Arrears Bill of 1882 "the Chamberlain Act." It wasn't Joseph's personal possession or invention any more than it was the Squire of Malwood's. But that way of putting it doubly suited Tim's purpose. It permitted him, without breach of order, to allude by name to the member for West Birmingham; there's a good deal in a name when the syllables are hissed forth with infinite hate and scorn. Also it accentuated the changed position vis-à-vis Ireland to which further reflection and honest conviction have brought the prime mover in the Kilmainham Treaty.
Irish Members, forgetting their own quarrels with Tim as he fustigated the common enemy, roared with delight. A broad smile lighted up the serried ranks of the Liberals. Prince Arthur wore a decorous look of sympathy with his wronged right hon. friend. The Duke of Devonshire,—"late the Leader of the Liberal Party,"—from the Peers' Gallery surveyed the scene with stolid countenance. Joseph, orchid-decked, sat in his corner seat below the gangway, staring straight before him as one who saw not neither did he hear.
Business done.—Tim Healy goes on the rampage. Evicted Tenants Bill read second time.
Tuesday.—As has been noted on an earlier occasion, Britannia has no bulwarks, no towers along her steep. It is, consequently, the more comforting to know that Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett (Knight) keeps his eye on things abroad as they affect the interests of British citizens. The Member for Sark tells me he has a faded copy of the Skibbereen Eagle containing its famous note of warning to Napoleon the Third. Was published at time of the irruption of Colonels. These gentlemen, sitting on boulevards sipping absinthe, used to twirl their moustache and—sacrrée!—growl hints of what they would do when they as conquerors walked down Piccadillee, and rioted in the riches of Leestar Square.
Napoleon the Third did not escape suspicion of fanning this flame. Howbeit the Skibbereen Eagle came out one Saturday morning with a leading article commencing: "We have our eye on Napoleon the Third, Emperor of the French."
Thus Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett (Knight) digs eagle claws into the aerie heights of the Clock Tower, and watches over the interests and cares of an Empire on which the sun rarely sets.