THE MINISTERIAL FISH DINNER.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXX, Issue 4553, 23 October 1875, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE MINISTERIAL FISH DINNER.

(From the Daily News).

The following contribution was presumably intended for a Transatlantic contemporary. It dropped from the tail pocket of a gentleman in a Panapia hat and nankeen trousers, who was running down Telegraph-street in the early hours of the morning at a pace so fast that his heels seemed to beat a tattoo against the collar of his blue coat Our own reporter, who was passing at the time, picked up the manuscript, which remains at our olfice, and we shall politely hut firmly decline to give it up until the International Copyright Treaties be amended, conformably to the view of Mr. Charles Reade.

Scene I. [Ship Hotel at Greenwich. Preparations for a feast. Perfume of fried fish and summer flowers. Through the open windows a steamer heavily laden with Statesmen is seen ploughing its way towards the landing stage. Enter English waiter and New York journalist disguised as waiter.] English Waiter (nervously)—There ! Take your stand behind this chair. That’s where HE’S a-going to sit. But mind you don’t attempt to make yourself useful; there’s a hart in waiting. New York" Journalist.— Hold on ! not so fast ! You’ve planted five glasses before him. If yon fill ’em all up he’ll do. English Waiter (shrugging his shoulders) —Lor bless your ’eart, the time for that sort o’ thing has passed. Fifty years ago now they’d have all floored their three bottles like lords, and then spoken out their minds so that it ’ud have been a pleasure to hear ’em. But now-a-days a man ain’t a gentleman unless he go out from a dinner as solemn as from a funeral. It’s the Liberal Party that have brought about all that with their finnikiu Reform Bills. N. Y. Journalist —Guess your country has slided back a few stages then ! Stick a glass of cocktail on a sideboard, and any American politician will be bound to find his way to it in the dark. . , . I’ll locate myself here. Who squats iu the next chair ? English Waiter —Lord Derby. You’ll be a clever man if you overhear anything from him ! Mum’s the word that he delights in. (Starts on perceiving N. Y.J. extract some packets of red powder from his pocket.) Heigh there 1 What tricks are you up to, sir ? You said you only wanted to get in to hear ’em talk ! N. Y. Journalist (with a reassuring gesture and a wink) —These are talkingpowders. Ever been out Nebraska way ? English Waiter— Where’s Nebraska ? N. Y. Journalist— A few steps across the water. It’s the country where they invented strap oil. Wa’all, out there, when we want to hear a man tell the truth for a change we whisk a pinch of this under his nostrils, and he unloads his bosom right away. I tried it last year on a U.S. Congressman, who’s been talking ever since as if his tongue worked on patent hinges. English Waiter (horrified) Just you throw them ’ere powders away. I oughtn’t to have let you in ! N. Y. Journalist —Don’t make a fuss, old boss ! I won’t give ’em the powders till dessert. Stand steady now; there are some steps on the staircase.| [Door opens. Enter Her Majesty’s Ministers, Members of the Household, and lesser official satellites. All more or less weary and dejected, with the exception of the Premier, who smiles serenely, English Waiter vanishes, after telegraphing fruitless signals of dissuasion to N. Y. Journalist, who ushers Mr. Disraeli to his seat. Depressing silence, while the eminent guests examine the hill of fare. N. Y. Journalist, observing one of the guests divest himself of a vest and false whiskers, calls the Premier’s attention to him by a gentle nudge.]

Mr. Dishaeli (mildly)—Who is that ? Ah, it’s you, Adderley ! Always sportive, I see! Sir Ch.vui.es Audehley (ruefully, amidst a gust of laughter)—Very little sport in it! They told me a deputation of merchant seamen wanted to waylay and dark me for burking that Bill of Plimsoll'a. Yet, if any one deserved the ducking— Mr. Ward Hunt —Don’t be so timid. I can answer for our British sailors. They would never have “ coerced ” you into the water. At the worst, they would have “assisted” you into it. Mr. Disraeli (amid renewed laughter)— Hunt is going to be jocular. The banquet begins bravely. “ Saturnalitias mittimus ecce nuces!” [More and more laughter. The ice being broken, there is a general flow of cheerful talk. Procession of waiters with soup tureens and Maderia. The feast commences.]

Scene 11. [Same personages as before. Two hours have elapsed. Throughout the banquet the conversation has run upon every variety of social topics, but politics have, as though by a common accord, been eschewed. Dessert is on the table, coffee has been brought in, and some of her Majesty’s servants have lit cigar's. It is evident that the psychological moment of unrestrained confidences is advancing, and the N. Y. Journalist dexterously proceeds to hasten the said moment. Tired of hearing Mr. Disraeli offer luminous opinions about the Sultan of Zanzibar and Mdme. Patti, Signor Sfllvini, and “ tent-pegging,” Captain Boyton and the increasing scarcity of grouse, he slinks off on a round of the table, and furtively scatters his “ talking powders ” as he goes. Instantaneously there is a revulsion in the attitudes of all the guests. Some spring to their feet as though electrified by a sudden desire to hold forth ; the majority stuff their handkerchiefs into their mouths as if to dyke back torrents of words welling up within them. In the midst of the confusion a brass band of Conservative working'men, electors of Mr. Boord, is heard serenading in the street, and shouting Billy Lawson and the Shaftesbury Park Bstate 1” “Hurrah for Beery-Ben !” “Wewo-o-ont go ho-ome till mo-orn-iug !"] . Mr. Disraeli (in great agitation)—l am moved by an extraordinary impulse I Never since the period when I poured out ray inexperienced heart in youthful novels have I been so pswerfully impelled to speak without fear of consequences. It seems to me that I dread no man alive, not even you Lord Salisbury, for looking at your self-satisfied face a moment ago I x-emembered the stox-y of the Roman Augurs. . . . Lord Salisbury— lt was your own countenance you saw in the glass, Mr. Disraeli— lt may bo ; ray own countenance has frequently moved me to laughter, especially when it was feigning veneration for the rusty crotchets, the infatuated prejudices, the old, old, hoaxes which you and your follow's call Tory principles ! I a Toi - y ! I a worshipper of your trade-bom aristocracy ! Ha ! ha ! Why, where among your pinchbeck nobility is the man that could vie with those geioag of the Semitic race who trace back their

ancestry to the Patriarchs ? The Golden Book of Venice would have spurned ye ! At Genoa and Pisa ye would have been accounted small folk. Even the burghers of Rotterdam. . . . Lord Hardwicke —He’s off ! Hathaway there ! Sit on his head somebody ! Mr. Disraeli—l must crave silence. Lords Salisbury and Carnarvon — Let him speak. Mr. W. H. Smith —No, no; he’ll do for us all! Let’s drown his voice! (Catches up a dessert knife and wine glass and jingles loudly.) Hie there, my Lords Cairns, Malmesbury, Derby, Sandsn ! Ho there, Hunt, Cross, Adderley, Lopes! don’t let your leader stultify himself . . . and us ! Mr. Disraeli (shouting)—You wont hear me? Aye, but the time has come when you must hear me ! My tongue has too long strained upon the leash And after all, what have I to fear, for ye daren't dethrone me! The people know only me, not you. The general election of 1871 was a plebiscite, and my • name rose victoriously out of the urn ! Conservatism iu the abstract doesn’t exist— Conservatism is ME ! Lord Salisbury— Listen to him ! Why, what political principles have you to show, sir, besides those which my brother landowners and I force upon you ? Tell us tor once what you truly believe? You talked of political sceptics the other day, why you are Scepticism incarnate !

Mr. Disraeli (undaunted) I have been styled a Richelieu iu handcuffs, and I protest that the principles forced upon me by the noble clodcrushers you mention were but as manacles that hindered me from statesmanlike purposes. If you had followed me without fear I would have led you to lasting power, for I believe in that discerning faculty which enables me to read the signs of the times.

Various Colleagues —Oh ! Oh ! Other Colleagues Heaii hear. He’s right. Mr. Disraeli (thundering)—Yes, I can road the popular mind, which is as a slab of Sanskrit to most of you ! You Conservatives profess to champion government by the wealthy and the titled, and yet you adhere to institutions which vest all power in the hands of the lower middle classes, who dread and detest you ! Ah !if you would let me have my way, we would let loasellniversal Suffrage to swamp the Liberal votes of that middle class which Napoleon 111. so well instructed us how to bridle. Aud if, become potent barons again with your armies of peasant voters, you laudowners had only the sense to cut adrift from you that cranky hull of Church Establishment, which else will assuredly drag down some of you with it when it founders. . . . Lords Salisbury aud Carnarvon, and Mr. Gatkorne Hardy (leaping up excitedly with clenched fists) —Ah ! there you’ve spoken the word. And Rome ? and the Jesuits ? What will keep them hack when the Church is gone ; Mr. Disraeli (reckless) —Stuff ! Under the sliel er of the mighty Catholic Church grew up the Feudalism of the Middle Ages, and Rome will be in the future the only barrier against revolution. Protestantism is but the Whiggery of religion, and the age of Whigs is past. I have hinted it in “Lothair,” and I repeat it here, your descendants, ay, perhaps your sous, will have to choose between Rome and Commune.

Loud Salisbury —Perish the ignoble prophecy. The House of Lords will outlive the College of Cardinals ! Mr. Gatuobne Hardy — Am} Christ Church the College of Jesuits ! Loud Carnarvon —And Westminster will continue to be the homestead of Freedom long after the Vatican has been razed by some future Garibaldi! Mr. Disraeli (laughing)—Freedom ! Oh, we are not in Parliament here, and can speak frankly ! What does political freedom pithily mean ? The right of a mob of simpletons to thwart the designs of a man of mind ! Who among us here feels much assisted in his work by the “ collective wisdom” of Parliament—by the wisdom of Mr. Whalley, Mr. Biggar, and the Messieurs Bentinck ? Who would not govern better -without the House of Commons, or bless any change which made the recess hist all the year round? Chorus of Junior Lords and Under-Secre-taries. Hurrah for the recess ! Down with private members and private bills ! Hurrah for counts-out! A Voice (presumably Sir M. Lopes’)—But you alleged the want of a united Opposition as an excuse for governing badly. [Loud uproar ; cries of “ Turn him out.” The Indian, Colonial, and War Secretaries cheer lustily, but are overruled by the howls of their colleagues.] Lord Derby (into whose nostrils none of the talking powder lias entered, and who has been sitting utterly aghast during the above proceedings)—This is utterly deplorable. I would call it scandalous if I dared adopt a spirited policy—For Heaven’s sake; for the credit of our party, let us control ourselves! Mr. Disraeli (prodding the Foreign Secretary playfully in the side) —Aimcable fanxnr, ra! Are you going to play the Oracle even among us -who know you? N. Y. Journalist (addressing the Premier in an undertone)—Guess you’ve talked your fill, old man? Just double up a moment; I should like to hear this smooth coon’s style of delivery. [Lord Derby, turning round with a frown, receives a packet of red powder in the nose, and begins to sneeze vociferously.]

Scene 111. Enter Landlord of the “ Ship ” with hair on end. Landlord. —My lords anti gentlemen—pray excuse me, but a crowd of w'hei'ry boats lias gathered on the river, and there is a mob of listenex's on the staircase. I only mention this to warn yon that the privacy of your Cabinet deliberations— Lord Derby.' —Cabinet deliberations ! Open the door Landlord; invite the wherries’ crews to ascend the staircase ; let Gladstone’s constituents stoop cn masse to hear what a Minister has to say about the conduct of public affairs ! They shall learn from my lips what a Conservative Cabinet Council is like.

Mr. Dishaeli (from whom the effects of the “ talking powder ” are beginning to pass away).—Don’t be too graphic,Derby,—remember your habitual caution. Lord Dehbv —Caution be blessed by those who are less sick of it than I. Didn’t we rail enough at Russell, Clarendon, and Granville for their prudence at the Eoreigu Office ? I should like to have seen myself Eoreigu Minister in 1870 and 1871, with the Franco-German war, the Black Sea question, and the Alabama claims on my hands all at one and the same time.

. Lord Malmesbury (courteously)—lf you mean to infer that you would have acquitted youi-self even less creditably than Granville, I fully agree with you, nxy dear Derby. I have always thought it Disraeli’s capital blunder, when he formed his Administration, that he should have installed you in a post which I had already filled with such superior lustre. Lord Salisbury— l do not wish to contradict you, Malmesbury ; but it seemed to mo from the first that I was the man best fitted to ride at the Foreign Office at the time when Bismarck was terrorising Europe. My energies are wasted at the Indian Office, where I can only deal with such small fry as the Gnikwar of Baroda.

Lord G. Hamilton (thoughtfully)—What are the rights of that complicated case, which I never had the patience to read through '! It appeared hard to me, though, that a man should bo punished after an acquittal as if he were guilty. That’s not English law.

Sir E, Baggallay —Law! That reminds me of your reforms in the judicature, Cairns. When shall you institute Public Px’osccutors ? Lord Cairns— l’ll tell you when the day comes. There are people who seem to think one has got nothing to do but dream of reforms all day. Mr. Cross— Yes, and who imagine that it takes only an hour to pass a Brutal Assaults Bill. Did one ever hear of such an outcry because I spared wife-beaters the oat-o’-nine-tails for another twelvemonth. Sir John Holker (facetiously)—The loudest outcry will be from the beaten -wives—mni's cch scpaescra cnfamillc .

Mr. Gathorne Hardy I would have passed the “Cat” Bill by any means, and in the face of any opposition, tor it was an antiplebeian measure. You are wanting in bulldog obstinacy, Cross. See how I carried my Regimental Exchange Bill ! Mr. Cross —But my Artisan Dwellings Bill, and my reform of the Labor Laws, were much more praiseworthy achievements. Sir Stafford Northcote (modestly)—lf we take to boasting of our performances I venture to submit that it is I who have this session carried off the legislative palm. By the common consent of all save Gladstone—who does not count, being jealous to see the pupil outshine the master—my Sinking Fund, Savings Bank, and Friendly Societies Bill, have revealed me as a financier of first-rate order—while the firmness, blended with ingenuity and tact, which I displayed when the Unseaworthy Ships Bill was under discussion, indicated clearly enough upon whose shoulders the mantle of our Elijah must devolve should Elijah ever—which the Gods forfend—be taken up to another place. Sir Charles Adderley (hotly)—But it seems to me, Northcota, you are actually taking credit for the Unseaworthy Bill—MY Bill! Mr. Disraeli— Hush ! The less said on that salt subject the better ! Plirasoll marred a session which else would have closed in perfect bliss. As my noble friends Bradford and Hardwioke would say, he gave us a cropper at the finish.

Mr. Hart-Dyke (sighing heavily, and helping himself to claret) —Ah, yes, what a session it was at first and might have been to the end! Everything was in our favor. A leadership in commission, though Hartington has done his work well enough. . . . Then Moody and Saukey to occupy the public mind, and Gladstone’s pamphlet’s and the rain-floods —a very Godsend—and the Bessemer, the Stoke-on-Trent and Tipperary elections, and lastly, that railway carriage affair! Alcibiades, who cut off the tail of his dog to give the Athenians something to talk about, would have called us blessed, and only to think that the ravings of an intemperate enthusiast should have dished us all !

Mr. Disraeli (knitting his brows) — Dished is a word of ill-omeu, Dykes ! I certainly thought myself that the just, the wise, the intelligent people of England—having so many topics to engross and amuse them—would not burden their minds with the concern as to whether a few ships more or less succumbed this winter to the fury of the elements and the mistaken calculations of shipowners. But I trust that my coolness was not unequal to meet the ebullition of feeling which poor Bates’s persecutor stirred up. Like vLolus I once more breathed upon the waters that were about to engulf you all; aud the storm was appeased ! Lord Derby (who has not ceased, to hold forth, but who has been almost inaudible because of the din) —Appeased you call it ! I stick to Hart-Dyke’s words, and say we are dished ! A little more and our majority will he clean gone —aud why ? because, with all your boasted science of life, Disraeli, your intellect has not kept step with the march of time. Yours was never a robust mind, my friend, only a rash and flighty one. You flew quickly, but you never flew straight ! You dazzled men’s brains with pyrotechnic oratory, aud the description of great schemes which you lacked—and well knew that you lacked — the power to accomplish. The long irresponsibility of your career in Opposition made you what you are, for it is easy to criticise, aud I have never yet understood wherefore the most garrulous critic should be accounted the most fit to fill the post of a man of action. You remind me of the bumptious schoolboy, who takes the watches of his comrades to pieces, but who is far less deft at them together, aud whom no one would think of setting up In business as a clock maker. Mr. Disraeli —Those Stanleys are heavy jokers. If I would test the strength of a new bridge now, I would roll a speech of Lord Derby’s over it, and if it bore the weight of that it would stand anything. Lord Derby (half delirious) —You are an exploded fetish, Diz, and so am I. Mr. Disraeli — Ah ! I am glad to see he does himself justice. Sir Charles Addebley —l have Plimsolls impertinent ukase to consider for next session, aud I must be off. It’s hard lines to be dictated to by that man ; but there’s no help for it, and I must obey. Mr. Cross —Yes, I must be off too, to set a good example. It’s getting late. (Midnight strikes. Landlord of “ Ship ’ reenters, flurried, as before.) Landlord —My lords and gentlemen, I do beseech you to consider. Half the town of Greenwich have turned out into the streets or taken to the water to hear your disputes. Lord Derby —there was no dispute. I was only speaking some unvarnished truths. Mr. Disraeli —It was the novelty that attracted them — tl Est net-turn hominuni 'iicvitatis a-vida.”

Landlord—My wines have been too strong for them. (To N. Y. Journalist) —How on earth can I politely disperse them ? N. Y. Journalist —Leave it to me. I’ve heard all I desire, (Vanishes a then reappears, thrusting back the doors with a loud clatter, and shouting in a stentorian voice, “ Dr. Kenealy, with a petition on the Tichborue case !”) [Panic, groans of dismay, and general stampede of the rulers of this realm. Sir Charles Adderley dives by mistake through the window and takes a header into the Thames, whence he is rescued by some watermen, who row him back to Westminster, and enliven him on the voyage with their experiences as to deckloadiug and stowage in bulk. At the end of half a minute Mr. Disraeli and the N. Y. Journalist are left alone in the banqueting room.] N. Y. Journalist (winking)—You’re an old one !

Mr. Disraeli (with bland dignity)—l fear I have forgotten to say grace—an omission of which lam not often guilty. For these and all other mercies of the past session—(h’m) — make me truly thankful. (Bows civilly to N. Y. J., and exit.)