Punch (91.1886)

276 PUNCH, OE THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [December 4, 1886.

STUDIES FROM MR. PUNCH'S STUDIO.

No. YL—The New M.P.

Me. E. cholmon-
deley browne, M.P.,

was not always Chol-
mondeley, and, of
course, was not from
"birth an M.P.; nor,
for the matter of that,
did he always spell
his surname with six
letters. There was a
time, now twenty
years hack, when he
was known to a wide
circle of friends as
Dick Brown, and
might he seen any day
in his shop with his
sleeves turned up, and
his hands redolent of
"Wiltshire.", He was
a" bright, brisk man,
with a wonderful taste
for pure "Dosset," a
nose infallible in
search of good coffee,
and a priceless palate
for tea. Mr. Gladstone a year or two ago achieved some renown
by recommending jam as a desirable direction for the extension
of business on the part of agriculturists. Dick Beown found
this out years ago, and acted up to it. He bought his fruit cheap,
sold his jam less dear than other people, and did an enormous busi-
ness. Whatever he touched turned to gold, though in the process it
was subjected to various flavours. For Dick's hand was in every-
thing, from a barrel of herrings to a barrel of apples, from a pat of
"Dosset" to a Cheddar cheese imported from the United States.
He was up early, went to bed late, and was constantly adding to his
balance at the Bank. This was some fifteen years ago, and it was at
this epoch that Dick got married. Mrs. Beown meant that Dick
should attain to higher things, and began very early working out her
purpose. First she got Dick elected on the Town Council, a step he
much resented, as it took him away from business. But he presently
discovered that he possessed what he called, in those degenerate days,
" the gift of the gab." He found a thrilling delight in being on his
feet addressing the Town Council, and finding a report of his speech
in the weekly paper. In due time he became an Alderman; then
Mayor with a gold, chain, and, finally, Mrs. Beown had her heart's
delight. She wheedled Dick out of the shop.

This was a difficult task not accomplished in a day or a year. But
Mrs. Beown proceeded with great skill. By degrees she inculcated
in Dick's mind a distrust of "Dosset," a dislike of the feel of clammy
bacon, and an animosity to jam. The rest was easy. Dick retired on
a competent fortune, took up'his residence at The Towers, a suburban
house with a stucco front, and was for a time supremely miserable.
But Mrs. Beown kept him and all things going. He was re-elected
Mayor, began to take an interest in politics, enjoying himself more
than ever at public meetings, and at the last general election that
ever was, was returned at the head of the poll for his native borough.

Dick had become E. Cholmondeley Browne,, when re-elected
Mayor and now M. P. was added. He had been a little puzzled as to
the politics he should adopt. Such convictions as he had tended in
the direction of Liberalism. Mrs. Beowne was a Tory. In the end,
by way of compromise, it was decided that Dick (or rather Chol-
mondeley) should stand as a " Liberal Imperialist." Mrs. Browne
invented that word, which of itself did much to win the election.

"Invariably, Chumley," she said, as he went forth to the canvass,
" drag in the word Empire at the end of your speech, and as often as
you please in the middle."

" I will my love," he said; and he was as good as his word.
He, as he once declared in the absence of Mrs. B., made the British
Empire " a line " in the display of his political wares. He clothed
himself in its boundless glory and historical grandeur, and literally
swelled with elation as he denounced some imaginary cravens who it
appeared were actually in treaty for selling their birthright.

Cholmondeley, it should be said, was in personal appearance a
very different man from the Dick of old days. Of course he never,
°ut 0\the Privacy of his dressing-room, appeared in his shirt-sleeves,
though there he had a tendency (severely reproved by Mrs. Browne)
to roll them up to his elbows, and lean upon the table.

I declare, Chtjmley," Mrs. Beowne once said when he greeted
her thus on entering the room, " I thought you was going to recom-
mend some prime Wiltshire, 'just arrived."' Do get out of^ those
disgusting manners."

Cholmondeley looked very well in his black broadcloth, being
rosy-gilled, and acquiring quite a respectable baldness. His manner
in company was quiet, not to say contemplative. He had a really
valuable gift of looking as if he was going to say something memo-
rable. He never did. But who should say what might not happen
to-morrow ? Of course Mrs. Browne went to Town when the
Session opened. She even sat in the Ladies' Gallery when Chol-
mondeley was sworn in, and heard the lady who sat next to her
(Mrs. Seymour, wife of the Under Secretary for Inland Seas) giggle
when Cholmondeley halted in the middle of the floor, and bowed
right and left.

"Oh, here's one of those funny New Members," she said. "I
wonder what he '11 do next."

Mrs. Browne won't forget that, if she gets a chance of putting
things straight with Mrs. Seymour.

Mrs. Beowne had arranged Cholmondeley's appearance on the
Parliamentary scene as she managed, everything else. It was all
very well for ordinary Members to go in with the herd, and scramble
for copies of the New Testament across a table, and take the oath
ensemble. Mrs. Cholmondeley had been in the Ladies' Gallery
before, and had seen newly-elected Members come up singly, after
well-fought contests, receiving the meed of party applause. So
Cholmondeley was kept back for a fortnight, and then came up to
the table all by himself, halting, as mentioned, midway, and salut-
ing first the Ministerialists and then the Opposition with that suave
courtesy which, in olden times, had often atoned for a lack of fresh-
ness in the last pound of butter lfrom stock. The House did
not cheer Cholmondeley, for obvious, reasons. Liberal Im-
perialist was, regarded as a party designation a little vague. On the
contrary, it laughed heartily at Cholmondeley's salute, and his
gills were redder than ever, when, having insisted upon shaking
hands with the Clerk, under the impression that he was the
Speaker, he stood on the Chancellor op the Exchequer's
extended foot whilst he signed the Boll of Parliament.

Cholmondeley took his seat below the Gangway on the Liberal
side. That showed his independence of the yoke of a Leader. Mrs.
Beowne insisted upon his appropriating a corner seat, which he did on
the first night; but he was so stared at, and became the object of so
many whispered observations, that he did not repeat the experiment.
A gentleman of genial manners, benevolent visage, and an ever-
ready smile (Cholmondeley subsequently heard his name was Mr.
Joseph Gillis), took a kindly interest in him.

" They won't let you sit there," said the Old Member. "But I'11
tell you what. If you only come early enough, you '11 find plenty of
room on the front bench by the table. Get the seat opposite the box,
and ye '11 be comfortable for the rest of the night."

Cholmondeley thanked his friend, and thought the matter over.
But he observed, in the course of the evening, that when Mr. Glad-
stone was not in this particular place Sir William Haecodrt filled
it. He therefore retained his place below the Gangway, sitting
wherever he could. When Mrs. Browne, was in the Ladies' Gallery
(which often happened), he timidly put his feet up on the back of the
bench in front, which gave him an easy and assured attitude.

Being naturally a sharp man, he speedily grew accustomed to the
arrangements of the House, and only once voted in the wrong Lobby.
Members making that mistake, are accustomed to confess it at the
table of the House. But Cholmondeley, as he said to Mrs. B., was
"not such a fool." He made believe that he meant to vote " No,"
and, as no one ever knew how a Liberal Imperialist was going to
vote, his defection on this occasion excited no comment.

He has not yet spoken, though he has prepared several speeches
and taken them down to the House. But, somehow, it does not seem
so easy to orate in the House of Commons as it did in the Town
Council. Cholmondeley's tongue cleaves to the roof of his mouth
when the moment provides opportunity for catching the Speaker's
eye. His knees tremble, a cold sweat breaks forth on his massive
brow, the lights dance up and down before his eyes, and the Speaker
seems to be pirouetting round the Chair with the mace. Urged on by
Mrs. B., who is sure he would make a great hit, Cholmondeley once
did catch the Speaker's eye.

"Mr. Cholmondeley Browne," the Speaker cried, as the New
Member half rose in his seat.

"New Member! New Member!" shouted six of the eight Members
present.

Here was Cholmondeley's chance. The remarkable phenomenon
already described took place, and he was speechless. But the Speaker
had called upon him and the House was waiting. Something must
be done, so the unhappy Cholmondeley, half rising and turning
towards the locality where he recognised the Speaker jumping about,
he said, " Sir, I beg your pardon, my Lord. It wasn't me."

Cholmondeley had a bad time after this with Mrs. B.; hut she has
not finally given him up. He will, she thinks, come out yet, take the
House by storm, and perhaps be made Home Secretary. In the mean-
time, Cholmondeley is gaining increased ease, talks of "Gladstone"
and "Chamberlain," and "Eandolph," and "Hicks-Beach," in
an off-hand manner, as if he had known them all his life.

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