_House of Commons, Thursday, August 4._--New Parliament met to-day
in great force. Ambition stirs noble minds in different ways. Some
embark on Parliamentary life with determination to outshine BRIGHT or
GLADSTONE in field of oratory. Others will not be pacified till they
emulate PITT. Others again aim at the lofty pedestal on which stands
through the ages the man who is first in his place, on first day, of
first Session, of new Parliament. Exciting race to-day. At night,
both BIGWOOD and SPENCER (not BOBBY, who has affairs of graver State
to look to just now) sailed in together. At a quarter to ten SAVORY
turned up, sermon in hand, and found he was forestalled.
"What, MOORE of them!" cried SAVORY. "The bane of my life."
"Yes," said LOGAN, arriving a few minutes later; "wherever there's one
SAVORY you're sure to find MOORE, and in this case they precede you."
Six minutes later DIXON-HARTLAND arrived, mopping his forehead. When
he found others on spot, pretended he'd only looked in accidentally.
"Passing by, you know; thought I'd see how old place looked." But it
wouldn't do. Other men, especially BIGWOOD, saw through it all. Then
DIXON HARTLAND grew anecdotal. Told fabulous story about imaginary
Scotch Member, who, at opening of Parliament of 1880, brought down his
plaid, a stoup of whiskey, and a thimbleful of oatmeal. Camped out all
night in Palace Yard, and staggered into House as soon as doors were
opened.
"That beats you, BIGWOOD," the Evesham Banker said, with a tartness of
voice that betrayed his chagrin.
Rest of the 665 Members content to look in later. By one o'clock House
full, Lobby overflowing. Difficult to move through the close ranks,
and yet there were many gaps. Ranks of old House more than decimated.
"There they go," said my young but fiery friend FURNISS, whom I came
upon in corner of Lobby, rapidly sketching with blurred eyesight.
"Who go?" I asked, remembering with a start I had left my gold-nobbed
stick in the corner by the Post Office.
"The Members we shall miss," he sobbed, lingering fondly over the
truculent curl of HERMON-HODGE's moustache.
But if gone are some familiar faces, others come back. Glad to see
MACFARLANE in his old place below Gangway, and to find him later in
old seat in smoking-room. MACFARLANE didn't often speak in debate,
but usually had something to say. Was a Home-Ruler long before the
majority found salvation. Remember across the years how he put
whole case in crisp sentence when he adjured the deaf Government of
the day "not to attempt to enforce Greenwich-time at Dublin." If
BRIGHT had said that, or DIZZY, or Mr. G., the happy phrase would
have echoed down the corridors of time. But it was only an Irish
Member; MACFARLANE, then Member for Carlow. So it passed
unnoticed--unremembered rather than forgotten.
_Business done._--Speaker elected. ARTHUR WELLESLEY PEEL for the
fourth time. House evidently under impression it can't have too much
of good thing.
_Friday._--Pretty to watch growth of full-blown SPEAKER in New
Parliament. First stage--enters in ordinary morning dress, and
seats himself with other Members, diligently trying to look as if he
expected nothing to happen. Sore temptation for Members sitting near
him. Would like to slap him on the back, and ask how he got on through
his Election. Short of that, feel they must ask if he wants a pair?
Is he dining here? Is he going to have a smoke, or a stroll on the
Terrace? Next day, having meanwhile been proposed, seconded, and
inducted to Chair, SPEAKER-ELECT turns up in Court-dress, with
Bob-wig. This is Development-stage. Having reached it, proceeds to the
House of Lords, where he is patronisingly received by LORD CHANCELLOR.
("HALSBURY," SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE says, "peculiarly well up in
patronage.") This done, returns to Commons; disappears behind Chair;
SERGEANT-AT-ARMS counts twenty-three; presto! door re-opens; SPEAKER
re-appears in butterfly-trim, with full-bottomed wig, silk gown, and
shoon on which shimmer the sheen of silver buckles.
No trifling with SPEAKER when this final stage reached. KEIR-HARDIE
took early opportunity of trying a fall with him--and got it. HARDIE
fresh from the coal-pit, represents West Ham; evidently determined
to pose as Stage Workman. "DON'T KEIR-HARDIE is my name," he said,
swaggering into House just now. "Don't keer a ---- for SPEAKER, or any
black-coated bloke. I'm the true British Workman, and will soon make
all you blooming gentry sit up."
"Are you going to take the Oath?" said COBB. COBB always asking
questions.
"Oath!" cried DON'T KEIR-HARDIE, "I'll take 'em in a moog."
Put on his cap, and swaggered towards the table. "Order! order!" cried
SPEAKER, in tones of thunder. "DON'T KEIR-HARDIE is my name," said
Hon. Member for West Ham; "and blow me if--". Turned, and saw flashing
eye of SPEAKER bent upon him. Slowly his hand went up to his head; the
cap came off, was crumpled up, and put in his pocket.
"Will you take the oath, or make affirmation?" asked MILMAN, stuck
between two tables, but always ready to oblige.
"Don't keer which," said DON'T KEIR-HARDIE; but, possibly from force
of habit, took the oath.
"If OLD MORALITY was still with us, my friend," said BURT, gravely,
"he would be able to cite for your edification a copy-head showing how
Don't Care came to a bad end."
_Business done._--Swearing going on in both Houses. Our Army in
Flanders quite respectable by comparison.
* * * * *
[Illustration: BLASÉ.
_Enthusiastic Lady Amateur._ "OH, WHAT A PITY! WE'VE JUST MISSED THE
FIRST ACT!"
_Languid Friend._ "HAVE WE? AH--RATHER GLAD. I ALWAYS THINK THE CHIEF
PLEASURE OF GOING TO A THEATRE IS TRYING TO MAKE OUT WHAT THE FIRST
ACT WAS ABOUT!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: A SKETCH FROM NATURE.