THE GLOBE. MONDAY, JULY 19, 1880.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1997, 19 July 1880, Page 2

THE GLOBE. MONDAY, JULY 19, 1880.

There is a story of a painter who complained that the range of possible historical subjects was exhausted, that the pages of the past had been ransacked to such an extent as to render any search therein for a new situation useless, and that, as for the present, nothing sufficiently stirring ever took place which could bo transferred to canvas with any degree of profit. And so the painter fell back on “ still life ” in despair. Ho painted bunches of flowers in vases and, say, a hare and a snipe hanging against a wall, or a cat dozing before a fire. As nobody had over bought his historical pictures and nobody now bought his still life pictures, the pecuniary result was the same, and a considerable wear and tear of tissue was saving in the direction of hunting for a subject. Had this artist, however, happened to have been in the House last Friday night ho would have rushed back to his studio in a phrenzy of delight. He would have caught a subject containing at one and the same time both history and still life. Sir George Grey propped up against a chair for a whole hour looking at the top of Mr. Hall’s head, might be painted up by a careful artist into a most successful and easily worked up picture. We say “easily worked up,”

because after all the constituent parts of the tableau would be exceedingly simple. The top of the Premier’s head could be readily dashed off, and almost any expression might bo given to Sir George Grey’s countenance if the picture were supposed to bo taken at some moment towards the end of the hour. A concentration of attention for sixty solid minutes on the parting of anybody’s hair would in all human probability deprive tho most lively countenance of any expression whatever. There once existed a set of philosophers who went in for self-con-centration to an extent previously altogether unpractised. They fixed their eyes firmly on their own stomachs, and remained for years in that position. Their countenances, we are told, were not remarkable for any degree of feature play, which was not surprising, although they laid claims to being, by some mysterious process, absorbed more or loss into the divine essence. For the first quarter of an hour, perhaps, of Sir George’s self-im-posed vigil, a certain amount of expression, possibly one of auger, would have been noticed on his face; but, as minute followed minute, tho lightning gleam would die out, and a vacuous expression would inevitably spread itself in its place, an expression easily transferable to canvas by tho meanest capacity.

But what in the name of all that, is sensible, an outsider might ask, could have induced the self-oloctod loader of the Opposition to descend to such a bathos. The answer would ho a difficult one to give. Sir George was delivering himself on the Maori Prisoners Bill. It was open to anybody to listen or not, as he liked. If the whole House had incontinently gone off to sloop ho could not have considered himself aggrieved. Mr. Hall was not looking at him. Ho was perhaps listening to him but not looking at him. It is very possible to correct proofs and listen at tho same time. But that is not to the point. TLore was no compulsion in the matter at all. Sir George Grey was addressing the House through tho Speaker, and he had no more right to force Mr. Hall to attend than he had to force the messenger to attend. Sir George said, “he owed a duty to the Native race, which forbade him going on until ho had received the attention of tho Premier.” If that were logic the Premier would have a bad time of it. Any member might, with an equal show of truth, say, when bringing forward, say a drainage Bill, that ho owed a duty to the persons interested therein, and that ho would not be satisfied unless the Premier paid the strictest attention to what he was saying. If such a state of things wore onco admitted, no sane man would for an instant allow himself to be elected Premier. The Premier is not an incarnation of Parliament. He is the chosen leader of tho majority, and no more. There is no absolute necessity for his being in tho House at all. Business can proceed perfectly well without him, and it was tho height of childishness on Sir George’s part to demand his special consideration. If Sir George wishes particularly to gain the Premier’s ear his best method would ho to invite him to dine with him tete-a-tete. Ho might then urge his views between tho courses. But it was simply preposterous of him objecting to Mr. Hall’s attitude of inattention.

And it is probable that, if the truth were told, nobody would confess this sooner than Sir George himself in his calmer moments. He, no doubt, started reviewing the Bill before the House with an idea that his words were worth their weight in gold. His few but perfervid followers have inspired him with the certainty that all he may say on any possible subject is as good as gospel truth. If ho were to deliver himself on some such subject as “partial impact” these devoted henchmen would swallow his words and gaze up into his face with various attitudes of wrapt attention. The radiance to bo derived from his oratory would diffuse itself over their not altogether striking lineaments. A mental shadow would pass over their countenances should they chance to look away from their leader’s phisiognomy. Sir George Grey has evidently become demoralised by this worship. He has not yet come to understand that there are persons who can manage to exist unilluminated by his ideas. He rose from his seat and let loose his oratorical sails. He glanced across the house, and, horror of horrors, the Premier’s eye was not glued on to his countenance. To the morbid vanity of the Knight of Kawau this was an insult not to be borne. He would force the Premier to look at him. Of the rights of the case ho instantly lost sight. And so he kept his logs for a whole hour, delaying the business of the House and making himself ridiculous, simply from an overstrained idea of his own importance. Of the merits of the Bill itself there is not much to say. It is confessedly only justified by the exigencies of the present situation. Under ordinary circumstances no one would dream of attempting to pass such a measure. The object of the Bill is to prevent bloodshed, and on that ground alone can its arbitrary provisions pass muster. But a singular consensus of opinion exists among exports in Native affairs as to the necessity of some such provisions. It is all very well to ponder over the abstract justice of each proposition to the total ignoring of expediency, but doctrinaires are the worst of statesmen, and do an immense amount of harm under the cloak of the best intentions. Lot Sir George Grey bo satisfied. He has a fine subject for his next stumping tour. Judiciously worked, the story of the Maori prisoners will tell far bettor than the story of the man who was hanged for stealing a rabbit, both because it is more modern and because it has a fine local coloring about it.