[Illustration: (H)]
_House of Commons, Tuesday, February_ 9.--House met to-day for what,
the SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE tells me, must needs be last Session
of present Parliament. Appropriately funereal air over scene and
proceedings. Usually Members return to work in highest spirits.
Remember, in years gone by, before the blight of neglect in high
places fell upon him, how dear old PETER RYLANDS enjoyed himself
on these occasions. What long strides he used to take, bustling to
and fro! What thunderous slaps of friendly welcome he bestowed on
shrinking shoulders! What digs of deep and subtle humour he dealt to
unresponsive ribs!
If PETER were with us to-day, it is probable that even his
effervescence of natural spirits would droop under prevalent gloom.
The familiar place is a House of Mourning. Members tread softly, lest
they should disturb the sick or wake the dead. Everyone has had the
influenza, fears he is going to catch it, or mourns someone whom it
has snatched away.
When SPEAKER took Chair and business commenced, a glance round crowded
benches brought back memory of much that has happened in the Recess.
"'Tis not alone this inky cloak, good TOBY, worn in sign of public
mourning," said WILFRID LAWSON, strangely subdued; "the House of
Commons has had its losses."
"Yes," I say, looking across at the Treasury Bench, where in the
last weeks of July we were wont to see the kindly anxious face of
OLD MORALITY, never more to cheer us with his little aphorisms, and
incite to following his pathway of duty to his QUEEN and country. In
his place, alert, youthful, strong, with ready smile breaking the
unfamiliar gravity; of face and manner, sits the new Leader, still
blushing under effect of ringing cheer that welcomed him to his high
position.
Lower down, filled up by another, is the place whence used frequently
to arise a tall, almost gaunt, figure, which, with voice and
manner indicating close associations with the Church pulpit, read
from manuscript neatly-constructed answers designed to crush
HENNIKER-HEATON. A kindly man and an able was RAIKES, who did not
obtain full recognition for his administration of the office to which
he was called.
On the other side of the House a great gap is made by the withdrawal
of PARNELL from the scene. A second, of quite other association, yawns
where genial DICK POWER used to sit, and wonder what on earth he did
in this galley, when he might have been riding to hounds in County
Waterford. HARTINGTON gone, too, an unspeakable loss to gentlemen on
the benches immediately behind. Many are the weary hours they have
wiled away wondering whether, at the next backward jerk of the head
of the sleeping statesman, his hat would tumble off, or whether
catastrophe would be further postponed. In HARTINGTON's place sits
CHAMBERLAIN, much too wide awake to afford opportunity for speculation
on that or cognate circumstance.
In his old corner-seat, in friendly contiguity, with his revered
friend on the Treasury Bench, GRANDOLPH lounges contemplative. Met him
earlier in afternoon. Passed us in corridor as I was talking to the
MARKISS, who was anxious to know how the dinner went off last night,
at which nephew ARTHUR appeared in character of the New Host at
Downing Street. The MARKISS looked narrowly at GRANDOLPH as he passed
with head hung down, tugging at his moustache.
"You remember TOBY, what HEINE said of DE MUSSET? 'A young man with a
great future--behind him.' There he goes."
"Don't you believe it, my Lord," I said, with the frankness that
endears me to the aristocracy. "You'll make a grave mistake if you act
upon that view of GRANDOLPH's position."
"Ah, well," said the MARKISS, a little hastily; "I must go and see
STRATHEDEN AND CAMPBELL about this Portugal business."
As he strode off I thought how precise and graphic remains
Lord LYTTON's description of him, written before he came to the
Premiership:--
"The large slouching shoulder, as oppressed
By the prone head, habitually stoops
Above a world his contemplative gaze
Peruses, finding little there to praise."
Sorry I vexed him.
Some disappointment at GRANDOLPH's appearance. Hoped he might do
honour to occasion by presenting himself in the attire clad in which
he of late roamed through Mashonaland. It would have been much more
picturesque than either of the uniforms in which mover and seconder
of Address are obviously and uncomfortably sewn up preparatory to
reciting the bald commonplace of their studiously conned lesson.
"He might at least," said CHAPLIN, who, as Minister for Agriculture,
takes an interest in specimens of animal produce, "have brought with
him the skin of one of those nine lions he shot from the oak in which
CHARLES THE FIRST took refuge."
[Illustration: "No gun made would carry so far."]
GRANDOLPH affects not to hear this whispered remark. It was
addressed to NICHOLAS WOOD, who, leaning over back of Treasury
Bench, laboriously explains that CHAPLIN is a little mixed; that the
oak-tree to which he alludes was grown on English ground--wasn't it
in Worcestershire?--and therefore could not afford a safe place of
retreat whence lions might be potted in Central Africa.
"There is," said NICHOLAS, emphatically, "no gun made that would carry
so far."
"Pish!" said CHAPLIN, somewhat inconsequentially.
GRANDOLPH looks across at Front Opposition Bench, and wonders how
Mr. G. is enjoying himself in the Sunny South. "Younger than any of
'em," GRANDOLPH admits. "Odd that with a general sweeping away of the
Leaders in their places last Session, only he should be left. Expect
he'll see us all out."
"Order! order!"
'Tis the voice of the SPEAKER. I thought he'd complain.
"Notices of Motion!" he calls, in sonorous voice. Then the dreary
business begins, MILMAN having all the fun to himself as he pulls
a lucky number put of the Ballot Box, and Members rise in long
succession, giving notice of interminable Bills and Motions, just as
they did at the beginning of last Session, when HARTINGTON slept on
the Front Opposition Bench, when OLD MORALITY fidgetted uneasily in
the seat of Leader, and when PARNELL stood with his back to the wall
in Committee Room No. 15.
* * * * *
TRULY AND REELLY.--Why didn't they at once elect COTTON, Alderman,
Poet, and Haberdasher, for the office of City Chamberlain, without
waiting for a show of hands and the rest of it? Of course COTTON ought
to have been elected right off the reel.
* * * * *
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