Nothing of the sort. Mr. Asquith made the barest allusion to the surrender of Kut—an incident which was "not one of serious military significance." As for the insurrection in Dublin, there would be a debate upon it as soon as the Government had completed its enquiries. The main purpose of his speech was to announce that the Government had decided to introduce a Bill for general compulsion, and to get rid of the piece-meal treatment of recruiting to which the House had objected. Members were, I think, hardly prepared for the vigour with which the Prime Minister turned upon his critics, reminding them that just the same denunciation of "vacillating statesmen" was current in the days of Pitt. No doubt there had been blunders both in policy and strategy, but nevertheless the contribution of this Kingdom and this Empire to the common cause was growing steadily, and the military situation of the Allies was never so good as it was to-day. If the Government no longer had the confidence of the people, he thundered out, "let the House say so."
While the immediate answer to this challenge was a volley of cheers, most of the speakers in the subsequent debate disguised their confidence in the Government so successfully that it almost appeared to be non-existent. From Sir Edward Carson, who acidly remarked that it was unnecessary for him to praise the Government, as "they always do that for themselves," down to Sir John Simon, who declared that compulsion was being introduced from considerations of political expediency rather than military necessity, no one seemed to be convinced that the Government even now quite knew its own mind.
The House of Lords, after listening to a moving tribute to the memory of Lord St. Aldwyn from his old colleague, Lord Lansdowne, settled down to a debate on the new Order in Council prohibiting references to Cabinet secrets. It met with equal condemnation from Lord Parmoor as a constitutional lawyer and from Lord Burnham as a practical journalist. The Ministers who "blabbed" were the real criminals. Lord Burnham recommended to them the example of the gentleman in the French Revolution, who always wore a gag in order to retain his self-control.
Lord Buckmaster, that "most susceptible Chancellor," made a very ingenuous defence of his colleagues. They were the unconscious victims of adroit interviewers, who obtained information from them by a process of extraction so painless that they did not know the value of what they were giving away.
It is time that these innocents were protected against themselves. A gag must in future be issued to every Minister with his Windsor uniform. The discarded G.R. armlets of the V.T.C. might very well serve the purpose.
Wednesday, May 3rd.—When, some nine years ago, Mr. Augustine Birrell was appointed Chief Secretary to the Lord-Lieutenant a friend who had some knowledge of Irish affairs wrote to him: "I do not know whether to congratulate you or condole with you, but I think it is the latter."
It was an easy guess, but its confirmation took an unusually long time. Indeed, at one moment it looked as if Mr. Birrell would escape the almost invariable fate of Irish Secretaries, and leave Dublin with his political reputation enhanced. When he had placed the National University Act on the Statute-book, thus solving a problem that had baffled his predecessors since the Union, he might have sung his Nunc Dimittis in a halo.
Perhaps he was not sufficiently ambitious to demand release; perhaps none of his colleagues was anxious to take his job; perhaps the Nationalist leader insisted on keeping him in the silken fetters of office as a hostage for Home Rule. Anyhow, the opportunity was missed; and thenceforward Nemesis dogged his track.
Two years ago it seemed that Ulster would be his stumbling-block. The War saved him from that, but only to bring him down through more sinister instruments. In his pathetic apology this afternoon he confessed that he had failed to estimate accurately the strength of the Sinn Fein movement. He might have been wrong in not suppressing it before, but his omission to do so was due to a consuming desire to keep Ireland's front united in face of the common foe.
This frank admission of error would in any case have disarmed hostile criticism; but its effect was strengthened by the unseemly interjections with which Mr. Ginnell accompanied it. If the Member for Westmeath is a sample of the sort of persons with whom the Chief Secretary had to deal, no wonder that he failed to understand the lengths to which they would go.