The best things said at a public meeting are often uttered by an anonymous "Voice." Mr. Will Thorne is the "Voice" of the House of Commons. Endowed with a fine pair of lungs and a style of delivery that resembles the cork coming out of a ginger-beer bottle he frequently expresses in his explosive style the collective opinion of his fellow-Members. At Question time Lord Robert Cecil referred to the abominable treatment of British prisoners of war at the Wittenberg camp, and said that steps were being taken to circulate in neutral countries the report of Mr. Justice Younger's Committee. There was a sudden "Pop," and out came Mr. Thorne with "Send it to the conscientious objectors."
On the Second Reading of the Budget Mr. Thomas O'Connor, as the Speaker punctiliously calls him, led off with a vigorous attack upon the match-tax. The discovery, made many years ago, that match-making as then conducted caused a painful disease of the jaw first aroused T.P.'s sympathetic interest. He now displayed an intimate acquaintance with the details of the industry and discoursed learnedly on the shortage of muriate of potash for the heads and of aspen for the splints. His argument briefly amounted to this—that the manufacturers of matches, like those of mustard, depended for their profits upon the amount wasted, and that to check public extravagance would destroy the trade.
The aspens on the Treasury Bench did not quiver visibly under this assault. They were more amenable to the criticisms on the railway-tax, which would fall very hardly upon commercial travellers and other business people. Mr. McKenna promised to give careful consideration to the criticisms before the Committee stage. Possibly it has occurred to him that as the Government have undertaken to bring the net receipts of the railway companies up to the 1914 level the Exchequer might have to pay out of one pocket nearly as much as it puts into the other.
Tuesday, April 11th.—One of the French Deputies visiting Westminster thinks us a queer people. He had heard last night the Prime Minister's stout declaration of the Allies' resolve to bring Prussia's military domination to an end. Again this afternoon he had been told on the same high authority that the late Conference in Paris had reaffirmed the entire solidarity of the Allies and established the complete identity of their views. Then he had walked across the corridor to the House of Lords, expecting, no doubt, to hear the same sentiments expressed in even loftier language. Instead, he had to listen to Lord Courtney, in the traditional yellow waistcoat, declaiming with all the vigour of his premiere jaunesse against the notion that we should enter into any fiscal relations with our Allies that might imperil the sacred principles of Free Trade.
Lord Courtney believes that there is in Germany a large and powerful peace-party, which must not be frightened by any threats of reprisals, and he commends to the Allies in 1916 the example of Bismarck in letting the Austrians off easily in 1866. Our visitor was a little relieved by the explanation that the orator was an interesting survival of a school of thought now passed away, and represented no one but himself. But he was again puzzled when Lord Bryce, who knows as much about the manners of the gentle Hun as anybody (witness his report on the atrocities in Belgium), joined in the appeal that we should be nice to Germany after the War.
He was, however, somewhat comforted when Lord Crewe made it plain that the Government did not share Lord Courtney's illusions about the strength of the German peace-party, and, having regard to the manner in which Germany had in the past combined commercial expansion with political intrigue, could not hold out hopes that after the War we should do business with her in the same old easy-going way. But if our French friend is still not quite convinced that British statesmen fully realize what the War means to him and his country I don't I think we can altogether blame him.
"I am unable to say what steps the married men may take to track the single."—Mr. Tennant, in the House.