CHAPTER XXIV

FAREWELL TO PARLIAMENT

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LONDON, Thursday, May 19th, 1898. Presided at Sir Alfred Lyall’s

lecture, on ‘Chartered Companies and Colonization,’ before the Society

of Arts.

I have always a feeling, when observing an audience in England, that the

people who appear to be listening are engaged upon their own particular

thoughts. I have sometimes said to myself, ‘Life with such people is not

an earnest affair. They have come, out of sheer amiability, or to tide

over an idle hour. They mechanically smile, and do not mind languidly

applauding when someone warns them it is time to do so.’

In my remarks at the close of Sir Alfred Lyall’s lecture, I took the

opportunity of comparing the French doings at the end of the eighteenth

century with those at the end of the nineteenth century, and predicted

that when the French appeared on the White Nile, England would have to

speak in no uncertain voice to France, or all our toils and expense,

since 1882, in Egypt and the Soudan, would have to be considered wasted.

My earnest words roused our friends a little; then Lord Brassey, a

typical Gladstonite, thinking I might lead them over to France,

instanter, poured cold water upon the heat and said, ‘You know it is

only Mr. Stanley’s way; he is always combative!’

Poor, dear old England! How she is bothered with sentimentalists and

cranks! South Africa is almost lost, because no Englishman in office

dares to say ‘Stop! That is England’s.’ Yet, if Krüger eventually

succeeds, our sea route to India, Australia, and the Isles of the Indian

Ocean, will soon be closed.

If the French establish themselves on the White Nile, they will ally

themselves with the Abyssinians, and soon find a way of re-arming the

Mahdists; and it would not be long then before we should be driven out

of Egypt, and clean away from the Suez Canal. Well, and then?

But what is the use? A cold water speech from Lord Brassey quenches, or

appears to, any little patriotic ardour that our Society Englishmen

confess to having felt. If these people were to be consulted, they would

vote for making England as small as she was in the pre-Alfred days, on

condition they were not to be agitated.

November 1st, 1898. Am gradually gaining strength after the illness

which began in the South of France, August 15th.

The long weeks in bed have given me abundant time for thought, and I

have decided that the time has come for me to seek my long-desired rest.

It has become clearer to me, each day, that I am too old to change my

open-air habits for the asphyxiating atmosphere of the House of Commons.

Consequent upon this Parliamentary life are the various petty businesses

of the Constituency I represent; and a wearying correspondence with

hundreds of people I am unacquainted with, but who insist on receiving

replies. This correspondence, alone, entails a good three-hours’ work

each day. The demands of the Constituents consume, on an average,

another two hours. The House opens at 3 P.M., and business continues to

any hour between midnight and 3 A.M. It is therefore impossible to

obtain air or exercise.

Long ago the House of Commons had lost its charm for me. It does not

approach my conception of it. Its business is conducted in a

shilly-shally manner, which makes one groan at the waste of life. It is

said to begin at 3 P.M. Prayers are over at 3.10, but for the following

twenty minutes we twiddle our fingers; and then commence Questions,

which last over an hour. These questions are mainly from the Irish

Party, and of no earthly interest to anyone except themselves; but even

if they were, the Answers might be printed just as the Questions are;

that would save an hour for the business of debate. A Member soon learns

how wearying is debate. Out of six hundred and seventy members, some

twenty of them have taken it upon themselves, with the encouragement and

permission of the Speaker, to debate on every matter connected with the

Empire, and after we have heard their voices some fifty times, however

interesting their subjects may be, it naturally becomes very monotonous.

Chamberlain, however, is always interesting, because there is a method

with him to get to his subject at once, and to deal with it in a lucid,

straightforward manner, and have done with it. This is what we all feel,

and therefore he is never tedious. Also, every speech Chamberlain

delivers is different, and his manner varies; sometimes it is quite

exciting, a mere steady look, suggestive of we know not what, gives the

cue; sometimes it is only a false alarm; but often we have intense

moments, when every word penetrates, and rouses general enlivenment.

Others on the Front Benches are not very interesting in speech or

matter, excepting, occasionally, on army or naval questions.

I could name a dozen others who are too often allowed to afflict us on

the Unionist side, but the speakers on the Opposition side are permitted

even greater loquacity, and they really are terrible bores. Outside the

House they are mostly all good fellows, but in the House they have no

sense of proportion, and one and all take themselves too seriously. Some

of them, I wish, could be sent to the Clock-Tower, where they could

wrangle with Big Ben to their hearts’ content. Others would be more

esteemed if they were fettered to their seats and had their own lips

locked, while a few are so bad that they should be sealed tight during

the Session. At any rate, it is clearly no place for me.

The House was very full, four hundred and thirteen Members voted; and,

of course, the war with the Transvaal was in every mind, and on every

lip. All are agreed that Krüger’s Ultimatum has been specially fortunate

for the Government; for it has been easy to discover that, but for this

hot-headed outburst of the Transvaal Government, the general distaste

for violent and strong measures would have severely strained the loyalty

of the Government’s supporters, so much so, I think, that I doubt

whether the majority would have been so great as to encourage the

Government to formulate the demands which the necessity of the case

required.

While listening to the remarks I heard on all sides of me in the

Smoking-room, it appeared to me that the saying that ‘those whom the

gods wish to destroy, they first make mad,’ was never so true as in this

curious lapse of a Government that, suddenly, and for a trifle, throws

all restraint aside, and becomes possessed of the most reckless fury. In

his secret heart no Member, but thinks, after his own fashion, that it

has been due to an interposition of Providence, Fate, Destiny, call it

what name you like. I gather so much from the many ways the Members

express their astonishment at Krüger throwing down the gauntlet, ending

the discussion, and plunging into war.

It has been a long duel between the Colonial Office and Krügerism;

successive Secretaries of State, since 1881, have tried their best to

get the vantage over the old Dutchman, and have either failed miserably,

or have just been able to save their faces; but Chamberlain, after four

years of ups and downs, at one time almost in disgrace, being most

unfairly suspected of abetting the Raid, and always verging on failure,

comes out of the duel with flying colours, through the intractable old

Dutchman tiring of the long, wordy contest.

The Irish have not been so violent as we expected they intended to be.

We heard of a wish to be suspended; but, on the whole, they have been

tame: though Willie Redmond did not spare Chamberlain.

Campbell-Bannerman spoke with two voices; in the first half of his

speech he talked like an English patriot, in the latter half he seemed

to have reminded himself that he was the Leader of the Opposition, and

showed ill-nature. Harcourt spoke this afternoon, long but without much

force. In fact, the strings of the Opposition have been rendered inutile

by Krüger’s Ultimatum to England, and the Boer invasion. The fact that

we are at war checks everybody, and disarms them.

July 26th, 1900. To-day has been my last sitting in Parliament, for I

have paired for the remainder of the Session, and Dissolution is very

probable in September or October.

I would not stand again for much!

I have never been quite free, after I understood the Parliamentary

machine, from a feeling that it degraded me somewhat to be in

Parliament.

I have, as a Member, less influence than the man in the street. On

questions concerning Africa, Dilke, or some other wholly unacquainted

with Africa, would be called upon to speak before me. I have far less

influence than any writer in a daily newspaper; for he can make his

living presence in the world felt, and, possibly, have some influence

for good: whereas I, in common with other respectable fellows, are like

dumb dogs. Yet I have, nay we all have, had to pay heavily for the

hustling we get in the House. The mention of our names in the Press

draws upon us scores of begging letters, and impertinent door-to-door

beggars, who, sometimes, by sheer impudence, effect an entrance into our

houses. The correspondence postage alone is a heavy tax, and would make

a handsome provision for a large family during the year. The expenses

incident to Parliamentary candidature and Parliamentary life are very

heavy, and, in my opinion, it is disgraceful that a Member should be

called upon to subscribe to every church, chapel, sport, bazaar, sale,

etc., in his Constituency. But, while I do not grieve so much for the

stupid expense, I do begrudge the items which remind me of the annoying

begging and the insolent importunity, that impressed me with the

worthlessness of the honour of being a Parliamentary representative.

Then, when I think of the uselessness of the expense, the labour of

replying to the daily correspondence, the time wasted in it all, the

late hours, the deadly air, the gradual deterioration of health, I

wonder that anyone in his sober senses should consent to bother himself

about a Parliamentary machine controlled as is this of ours. Any

illusions that I may have had, illusions that I could serve the Empire,

advance Africa’s interests, benefit this country, were quickly

dispelled. The Speaker’s eye _could not_ be caught; he would call on

some glib talker, who really knew very little of his subject; and, in

this respect, also, I felt there was some degradation for me, sitting

there, to listen to such futilities.

Individually, I repeat, the Members are the best of good fellows in the

Smoking-room; but Parliamentary procedure needs revising, and less

opportunity should be given to those who talk only for talking’s sake.

Anyhow, I am glad at the prospect of retiring, and being quit of it all.

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The autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, G.C.B. · 第 9 / 12 章