DOI Heft:
February 5, 1881
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17750#0060
52 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [February 5, 1881.
the English, and Scotch. The last touch was given to the impres-
siveness of the scene by the fact that the Parliamentarily disembodied
Lycidas looked down upon it, heard the lament of his faithful
friends, and watched the scornful attitude of his hereditary enemies.
Though the body of Obstruction was^under hatches on the floor of
the House, its sold had gone aloft to the Strangers' Gallery. Here he
sat—known in the flesh as Joe Biggar, in poetry
as Lycidas—whose untimely end his compatriots
bemoaned.- But a short time since he was
standing over there, buttressed about with blue
books. He had come in full of hope and statis-
tics. Great things were expected of him, and
he meant to equal expectation. Illustrious men
are often spurred on to desperate acts by rivalry
with themselves. Mr. Biggar had made his
Parliamentary fame by a speech of four hours'
length. That was while his career was yet
opening. Now it had been long and gloriously
established, and it became the veteran to out-
shine the deed of the youth.
So Mr. Biggar entered, weighed down on
one side with blue-books, and with a gleam in
his eye, which told of coming conflict. When
his turn came he rose with the grace that dis-
tinguishes every movement, and, holding out
his right hand, shook it with fingers loosely
down-dropped in the direction of the Speaker.
This is a semaphore signal with which Mr. ""Well,I'm Shaw!"
Brand is only too well acquainted. It means
that, for an indefinite period, alb Parliamentary traffic must be
stopped. Stopped it was now, whilst Mr. Biggar spread about him his
papers, and having fixed his glasses astride his nose, and suspended
his right hand by the thumb hooked in the arm-hole of his waistcoat,
began to discuss matters generally. He had not gone far before the
Speaker called him to order, Mr. Biggar occupying the few seconds
of interval thus supplied, by re-arranging his papers. Once more
on his feet, he travelled a little further and was again called to
order. This happened three times, Mr. Biggar, growing accustomed
to the process, utilising it more obviously and with greater satisfac-
tion in looking through his notes, and preparing fresh extracts for
present reading as soon as the Speaker would be pleased to sit down.
It appeared to him, however, that it would be as well, rather in the
general interest than in his own, if he should have authoritatively
settled a question that was always arising. What was order ? It
was not like a side of bacon, that you could feel and weigh, and
smell, and if need be, taste. It was an abstract something, now here
now there, but always evaded the clutch, like the ghostly dagger
that haunted Macbeth. Would it not be well to have this matter
settled, and was there any time better than the present ? Mr.
Biggar thought not; and so, laying down all his papers to the end
that he might hook both hands by the thumb within the hospitable
recess of his waistcoat, and with head cocked a little on one side,
he proceeded in his endeavour to solve the difficulty.
"Mr. Speaker, Sir," he said, the metallic tones of his voice
modified by earnest inquiry. "Now, what is order?" For all
reply the Speaker " named " Mr. Biggar; and before that great
Patriot quite knew where he was, he found. Mr. Forster putting
the question that he be suspended from further service in the
House. To some men it might have occurred that since by some
sudden turn of fortune he had become the object of personal and
particular discussion, a dignified course would be to leave the com-
pany. Mr. Biggar took another view of his duty. Perhaps he
was waiting for
J|k, the answer to his
^■'.M Jk ^^^S"^^^ question; per-
ix **diiSMimm* ISiv , haps he thought
that.) he of all
men should have
a voice in the
decision. How-
ever it be, he not
only remained,
but voted in the
when the figures
were announced,
and his suspen-
sion decreed, he
showed no signs
of initiating ac-
Scene from the " Biggar's Opera." tion. Perhaps if
he waited a little
longer, the Speaker would tell him what order was. Instead of which
the Speaker, " observing the Hon. Member for Cavan in his place,"
requested him to withdraw ; which he did with a graceful smile, and
a few cheery words to the Sergeant- at-Arms, who was so polite as
to show him to the door. A few minutes later he was discovered up
in the Strangers' Gallery in friendly converse with the doorkeeper,
himself unmoved, while below his bereaved friends filled the dank
night with inimitable lament.
" Weep no more, woeful Shepherds, weep no more ;
For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead,
Sunk though he be "beneath the watery floor.
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
.And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new spangled oar
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky :
So Lycidas, sunk low, has mounted high.
Business done.—Mr. Biggar suspended.
Thursday Night.—The House of Commons is very like what I fancy
the sea must be. Sometimes you look over the expanse of green
benches and everything is quiet, even humdrum. Suddenly a breeze
arises. A quick commotion fills the place. Members, hurrying in,
crowd up the seats and stand at the Bar. The storm blows with
ever increasing fury, and sometimes, as happened on Tuesday night,
Mr. Biggar is flung like a piece of seaweed on the rocks (here repre-
sented by the Strangers' Gallery). After a while the storm goes
down as suddenly as it arose, and the next evening, when you come
to look on the scene, lo! the wind is hushed, the waves are stilled,
and the stranded seaweed, sun-dried during the day, has dropped off
the rock, and is once more gently rocking in the summer sea.
Thus it is to-night. The House is full but quiet, and eminently
respectable. Mr. Biggar has been restored to its bosom, and occu-
pies his usual place thereon. No one, unless it be Mr. Gladstone,
bears the slightest traces of having sat up all night. The Premier,
truly, looks ill and worn, and has the restless movement which tells
how sorely his nerves have been overwrought. When in his usual
good health he finds it impossible to sit still and listen to inanity or
impertinence with the imperturbability that has
made long life possible and agreeable to Lord
Beaconsfield. When mind and body are over-
wrought this absence of self-control is more
painfully marked, and to-night those who hold
the Premier's life precious, watch him with
grave face as he excitedly shakes his head, whilst
Mr. O'Connor Powrer is speaking, and anon
interpellates remarks inaudible above the din of
the Representatives of Ireland who sit below the
gangway opposite, and make mock of the man
who delivered their country from the thrall of
the Church, and is even now working to complete
the deliverance of its land from the grip of the
rack-renter.
'' If Gladstone could only keep himself quiet! "
Lord Hartington growls, as he thrusts his hands
in his pockets, tips his hat over his nose, and
prepares to take charge of the ship, which on
the stroke of midnight the Premier hands over
to him. Then the mocking cheers subside, the
interruptions cease, and the broad smile that
festoons the lower part of Mr. Biggar's expres- « Impatient Par-
sive countenance disappears. The Irish Members nellofe."
look across at the Treasury Bench ; and, knowing
that they might as well attempt to remove the Griffin in Fleet
Street by battering it with their heads, as try to disturb Lord
Hartington with their contumely, they subside, and presently go
home.
Business done.—None.
Friday Night.—The debate on the First Reading of Mr. Forster's
first Coercion Bill was to be concluded to-night, and Hon. Members
came down prepared to do their duty. But it appears that as yet
we had only touched the skirts of the question. There are scores
of gentlemen ready to boil over with words of counsel, and floods of
eloquence. It seems we don't know nearly enough yet of the
views of the Irish Members; and that if, after talking of the one
thing for three weeks and a night, a decision which every one is
.... prepared to give, were straightway to be taken, it would be an
division Even ' undue limitation of freedom of speech. Freedom of speech is
already strictly limited to one side of the Channel; and to-night,
when Mr. Gladstone proposed to state his views, he was rudely
and violently interrupted from the Irish quarter in a way I am told
the like of which has not hitherto been seen in the House.
Business done.—None.
University Weather—Sixteen degrees of frost were registered
one morning last week, and ninety-six degrees in the Cambridge
Senate House for the Mathematical Tripos, when Mr. Forsyth, of
Trinity, appeared as Senior Wrangler. Bad weather for those who
were plucked and left out in the cold.
the English, and Scotch. The last touch was given to the impres-
siveness of the scene by the fact that the Parliamentarily disembodied
Lycidas looked down upon it, heard the lament of his faithful
friends, and watched the scornful attitude of his hereditary enemies.
Though the body of Obstruction was^under hatches on the floor of
the House, its sold had gone aloft to the Strangers' Gallery. Here he
sat—known in the flesh as Joe Biggar, in poetry
as Lycidas—whose untimely end his compatriots
bemoaned.- But a short time since he was
standing over there, buttressed about with blue
books. He had come in full of hope and statis-
tics. Great things were expected of him, and
he meant to equal expectation. Illustrious men
are often spurred on to desperate acts by rivalry
with themselves. Mr. Biggar had made his
Parliamentary fame by a speech of four hours'
length. That was while his career was yet
opening. Now it had been long and gloriously
established, and it became the veteran to out-
shine the deed of the youth.
So Mr. Biggar entered, weighed down on
one side with blue-books, and with a gleam in
his eye, which told of coming conflict. When
his turn came he rose with the grace that dis-
tinguishes every movement, and, holding out
his right hand, shook it with fingers loosely
down-dropped in the direction of the Speaker.
This is a semaphore signal with which Mr. ""Well,I'm Shaw!"
Brand is only too well acquainted. It means
that, for an indefinite period, alb Parliamentary traffic must be
stopped. Stopped it was now, whilst Mr. Biggar spread about him his
papers, and having fixed his glasses astride his nose, and suspended
his right hand by the thumb hooked in the arm-hole of his waistcoat,
began to discuss matters generally. He had not gone far before the
Speaker called him to order, Mr. Biggar occupying the few seconds
of interval thus supplied, by re-arranging his papers. Once more
on his feet, he travelled a little further and was again called to
order. This happened three times, Mr. Biggar, growing accustomed
to the process, utilising it more obviously and with greater satisfac-
tion in looking through his notes, and preparing fresh extracts for
present reading as soon as the Speaker would be pleased to sit down.
It appeared to him, however, that it would be as well, rather in the
general interest than in his own, if he should have authoritatively
settled a question that was always arising. What was order ? It
was not like a side of bacon, that you could feel and weigh, and
smell, and if need be, taste. It was an abstract something, now here
now there, but always evaded the clutch, like the ghostly dagger
that haunted Macbeth. Would it not be well to have this matter
settled, and was there any time better than the present ? Mr.
Biggar thought not; and so, laying down all his papers to the end
that he might hook both hands by the thumb within the hospitable
recess of his waistcoat, and with head cocked a little on one side,
he proceeded in his endeavour to solve the difficulty.
"Mr. Speaker, Sir," he said, the metallic tones of his voice
modified by earnest inquiry. "Now, what is order?" For all
reply the Speaker " named " Mr. Biggar; and before that great
Patriot quite knew where he was, he found. Mr. Forster putting
the question that he be suspended from further service in the
House. To some men it might have occurred that since by some
sudden turn of fortune he had become the object of personal and
particular discussion, a dignified course would be to leave the com-
pany. Mr. Biggar took another view of his duty. Perhaps he
was waiting for
J|k, the answer to his
^■'.M Jk ^^^S"^^^ question; per-
ix **diiSMimm* ISiv , haps he thought
that.) he of all
men should have
a voice in the
decision. How-
ever it be, he not
only remained,
but voted in the
when the figures
were announced,
and his suspen-
sion decreed, he
showed no signs
of initiating ac-
Scene from the " Biggar's Opera." tion. Perhaps if
he waited a little
longer, the Speaker would tell him what order was. Instead of which
the Speaker, " observing the Hon. Member for Cavan in his place,"
requested him to withdraw ; which he did with a graceful smile, and
a few cheery words to the Sergeant- at-Arms, who was so polite as
to show him to the door. A few minutes later he was discovered up
in the Strangers' Gallery in friendly converse with the doorkeeper,
himself unmoved, while below his bereaved friends filled the dank
night with inimitable lament.
" Weep no more, woeful Shepherds, weep no more ;
For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead,
Sunk though he be "beneath the watery floor.
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
.And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new spangled oar
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky :
So Lycidas, sunk low, has mounted high.
Business done.—Mr. Biggar suspended.
Thursday Night.—The House of Commons is very like what I fancy
the sea must be. Sometimes you look over the expanse of green
benches and everything is quiet, even humdrum. Suddenly a breeze
arises. A quick commotion fills the place. Members, hurrying in,
crowd up the seats and stand at the Bar. The storm blows with
ever increasing fury, and sometimes, as happened on Tuesday night,
Mr. Biggar is flung like a piece of seaweed on the rocks (here repre-
sented by the Strangers' Gallery). After a while the storm goes
down as suddenly as it arose, and the next evening, when you come
to look on the scene, lo! the wind is hushed, the waves are stilled,
and the stranded seaweed, sun-dried during the day, has dropped off
the rock, and is once more gently rocking in the summer sea.
Thus it is to-night. The House is full but quiet, and eminently
respectable. Mr. Biggar has been restored to its bosom, and occu-
pies his usual place thereon. No one, unless it be Mr. Gladstone,
bears the slightest traces of having sat up all night. The Premier,
truly, looks ill and worn, and has the restless movement which tells
how sorely his nerves have been overwrought. When in his usual
good health he finds it impossible to sit still and listen to inanity or
impertinence with the imperturbability that has
made long life possible and agreeable to Lord
Beaconsfield. When mind and body are over-
wrought this absence of self-control is more
painfully marked, and to-night those who hold
the Premier's life precious, watch him with
grave face as he excitedly shakes his head, whilst
Mr. O'Connor Powrer is speaking, and anon
interpellates remarks inaudible above the din of
the Representatives of Ireland who sit below the
gangway opposite, and make mock of the man
who delivered their country from the thrall of
the Church, and is even now working to complete
the deliverance of its land from the grip of the
rack-renter.
'' If Gladstone could only keep himself quiet! "
Lord Hartington growls, as he thrusts his hands
in his pockets, tips his hat over his nose, and
prepares to take charge of the ship, which on
the stroke of midnight the Premier hands over
to him. Then the mocking cheers subside, the
interruptions cease, and the broad smile that
festoons the lower part of Mr. Biggar's expres- « Impatient Par-
sive countenance disappears. The Irish Members nellofe."
look across at the Treasury Bench ; and, knowing
that they might as well attempt to remove the Griffin in Fleet
Street by battering it with their heads, as try to disturb Lord
Hartington with their contumely, they subside, and presently go
home.
Business done.—None.
Friday Night.—The debate on the First Reading of Mr. Forster's
first Coercion Bill was to be concluded to-night, and Hon. Members
came down prepared to do their duty. But it appears that as yet
we had only touched the skirts of the question. There are scores
of gentlemen ready to boil over with words of counsel, and floods of
eloquence. It seems we don't know nearly enough yet of the
views of the Irish Members; and that if, after talking of the one
thing for three weeks and a night, a decision which every one is
.... prepared to give, were straightway to be taken, it would be an
division Even ' undue limitation of freedom of speech. Freedom of speech is
already strictly limited to one side of the Channel; and to-night,
when Mr. Gladstone proposed to state his views, he was rudely
and violently interrupted from the Irish quarter in a way I am told
the like of which has not hitherto been seen in the House.
Business done.—None.
University Weather—Sixteen degrees of frost were registered
one morning last week, and ninety-six degrees in the Cambridge
Senate House for the Mathematical Tripos, when Mr. Forsyth, of
Trinity, appeared as Senior Wrangler. Bad weather for those who
were plucked and left out in the cold.