IN the arena of the House of Commons resistance is rarely exerted to excess. The preponderance of the majority once proved, the minority generally accept defeat with docility. The minority, however, are but men; defeat is never pleasant temptation occasionally arises, delay may procure what argument could not accomplish. This temptation is strongest when prorogation-tide approaches in the dusk of the session, the season of Parliament drawing to a close, the loss of a day may involve the loss of the bill. By utter weariness the majority may be driven to yield that day; and repeated divisions, upon reiterated motions for adjournment, are the instruments by which this weariness is produced.

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Resistance in such a form has no intellectual dignity wherewith to commend itself: it is wholly physical. Consequently, this course is rarely adopted

against measures of signal importance, or when the House is thronged. Whatever be the result, of the mode of gaining that result the minority have never reason to feel proud: certainly not while it is in action. A spectacle more singular than seemly is then presented by the House of Commons. Division rapidly succeeds division every ten minutes the scanty gathering of members is dispersed into the lobbies; and each proclamation of the dwindling numbers of the assembly is greeted with louder shouts. Passion heats; order in conduct almost disappears, in debate almost entirely. Speeches are solely directed to the encouragement of ceaseless obstinacy: are declarations that divisions shall continue while there exists a leg to move. To such speeches, yells, groans, and delirious laughter form fitting response. And so the Commons go round and round, dancing out the

small hours, through each division lobby; made as much "like unto a wheel," as their enemies could desire. At last, the clear grave grey of dawn-light brings utter weariness to the body, if not conviction to the mind. Of what was "excellent sport, i' faith" at two o'clock -"would it were done" is felt at four.

The "Waterloo" among parliamentary battles of this kind was fought on the 12th of March, 1771. The game of obstinacy was then played out to the full. Delay solely for delay's sake, and annoyance only to annoy, were that day inflicted by Edmund Burke upon the House of Commons. Led by him, the minority did all their possible to obstruct the majority; and as their object was freedom of the press, we, at least, may pardon an obstinacy that seemed instinct with faction.

The year 1771 was central, it will be remembered, in the period of national unrest that preceded Pitt's supremacy. All classes of society then were aiming at mastery; but master there was none. Riots disclosed the power of the people, and libels of the press. The strength of Parliament was shown by arbitrary exertion of their privileges. The city of London addressed unconstitutional language to the sovereign; and he extended unconstitutional influence wherever he could reach. Everybody's hand was against everybody; but it was only to irritate. The Lords quarrelled with the Commons, and the Commons with the Lords, and both with the people. The King quarrelled with his Ministers, and would have quarrelled with his Parliament, had he not preferred to bribe it. One power alone maintained its ground, namely, the power of the pamphleteer; nor was that without trial. Printers were fined and imprisoned by the Lords: the Commons reprimanded and committed them to the Serjeant. The Crown gave to these proceedings both countenance and counsel. But it was in vain. The orders of Parliament were evaded: the laugh was turned against it; and laughter usually bespeaks the winning side.

The evening of 12th March, 1771,

was the climax of the struggle between Parliament and the press. The libeller, however, was not then selected for attack: it was only the mere publisher of parliamentary debates. And if popular feeling was too strong for Parliament, when the cause of literary decency was advocated, success was hardly to be anticipated in the case of a mere breach of privilege. Then, as now, publication. of parliamentary debates was a direct infraction of the orders of both Houses; nor had the spirit of the rule, though departing, ceased to animate the letter. The efficacy of that order was this year, for the first time, openly tested. The magazines were commencing to print the debates, giving, without disguise, the names of the debaters. Nor was this after the session had concluded; the narrative of parliamentary transactions was made public, while the Houses were sitting. This was a signal proof of the audacity of the press. By stealth only, however, the reporter still exercised his calling and to impose undue concealment on a harmless effort, often acts as a prompter to harmfulness. Undeserved obscurity tempts an undesirable publicity. Reports of the debates were accompanied often by most irregular comments: members were not only mentioned by name, but openly abused. And newspapers naturally attacked those that would naturally attack them. The two Onslows, for instance, the Colonel and George, were by family tradition specially bound to maintain the dignity of the Commons. They were son and nephew of the late Speaker: their very name is still redolent of a parliamentary savour. "Cocking George," "paltry, insignificant insects," and "scoundrels," the "greater and the lesser," were prefixes too commonly appended to their names. The Onslows not unnaturally did what they could in return. Early in this session of 1771, at their instigation, the Commons ordered two printers into custody. It was competent to the House to make the order; to enforce it, proved impossible. London sided with the printers; the messengers of Parliament were hustled away; they returned to Westminster empty-handed.

This sign of the times was, however, unheeded by the champions of privilege. On the 12th March, 1771, Colonel Onslow lodged a formal complaint against "the printed newspapers intituled" The Morning and The St. James's Chronicle, The London Packet, The Whitehall Evening Post, and The General and The London Evening Post, and against their printers and publishers, Woodfall, Baldwin, Evans, Bladon, T. Wright, and J. Miller. The charge was made with due formality. It was alleged that these newspapers contained the debates, and misrepresented the speeches of members of Parliament, "in contempt of "the orders, and in breach of the pri66 vileges of this House." Then followed the great battle of delay. The majority at the outset mustered 140, and the minority 43; these numbers dwindled to 72 and 10 during the twelve hours' struggle that ensued.

Lord North, then in the second year of office, led one party; and Edmund Burke the other. The side befitting the King's "own" Minister need not be stated. The fury of the two Onslows took, indeed, the matter out of his hands. North supplied the authority of Government: but they led the attack. And with them ranged Welbore Ellis, a veteran placeman; and also another placeman, not quite so old in office, bearing a name rather more celebrated, namely Mr. Charles Fox. He was then a member and a Lord of the Admiralty of two years' standing. He had, in body, barely attained the legal age of manhood: he certainly had not then reached full mental maturity. His impulsive nature, swayed by the arbitrary principles of his father, made him zealous for authority. He did not speak much; but he was diligent as division-teller. The party opposed to liberty thus included, by the accident of a year, this noble, still-loved man. Otherwise the roll of well-known names among the minority, would have been indeed preponderant.

There was their leader, Edmund Burke, foremost every way. His cousin William fought under him to

the last. So did Sir William Meredith, whose memory will live with the history of our religious liberty; and Governor Pownall, also, taught by the sound judgment that inclined him to the right view of the great question of that era. All these, indeed, having maintained the cause of freedom beyond the Atlantic, were not likely to forget the printer at their door: and in both cases they were content to play what seemed to be an utterly losing game. Colonel Barré, too, gave the help of his rude and ready tongue. And, thanks to the "Rolliad," we find among the rank and file a name not quite undistinguishable-Sir Joseph Mawbey's, who was coupled with Thrale in the representation of Southwark. He dealt somewhat in poetry, but more in pigs, a conjunction of aim that prompted that scoff of the satirist, that has given duration to the name of Mawbey. And one who, if he lives at all in our recol lection, owes that life to the hireling writers he abused, appears in the characteristic attitude of a neutral: for

"To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote,"

seems on this occasion to have been unattainable by Burke. If, according to the receipt of epic poetry, description of a coming storm was ushered in by invocation to the genius of disorder, the invocation would be claimed by the demonie Wilkes for the tumult was not only to his heart, but of his making. He it was, who incited the press to an open publication of parliamentary debates; and his influence was present during the evening of 12th March, 1771, though not his person, for that was under sentence of expulsion from the House of Commons.

Mischief was Wilkes's element; and nothing would have pleased him more than to hear Speaker Cust put the first question in that debate, for not less than forty motions were to spring out of that unpretending sentence, and fortyfold irritation to that impatient gentleman. The question first put was, "That "the said paper, intituled The Morning Chronicle, Monday, March 4th, 1771,

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"printed for W. Woodfall, be delivered.

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in at the table, and read." The House

divided," as the Journal tells us : "the Yeas went forth," and were 140 against 43.

Such was the commencement of the sport that Colonel Onslow had provided for the Commons. He undertook to bring before them "three brace of printers." His argument was, "that "it is nonsense to have rules, and not "to put them in force;" and, having got the newspaper read, he moved that Woodfall be summoned before the House. George Onslow seconded the motion; and a member spoke in its favour. Language used in parliament, he said, was constantly misrepresented by the magazines; though, with a mighty simplicity, he admitted that the reporters "often made "for him a better speech, than he could "have made for himself." The name of one so honest should survive-it was a Mr. Ongly. To him responded Mawbey, the poetic pig-dealer. In pleading, however, the counsel of moderation, his cockney tongue brought on him derision. He reverted incautiously to Colonel Onslow's metaphor, "the three brace of printers" he desired to exhibit kindred humour; he begged the House to refrain from "hunting down the covey."-"Who ever heard of hunting partridges?" was Lord Strange's crushing retort. My lord was also strong for the dignity of the House.

The

The tactics of opposition being unmatured, Woodfall was ordered to the bar without opposition, and the summons of a second printer was proposed. spirit of controversy here aroused itself. Sir H. Cavendish, our ear-witness, jots down on the paper in his hand, “very warm." And in answer to exclamations"weary out the printers, weary out their pockets," "this is no trifling matter, it must and shall be punished," is heard a threat,-"I will divide the House on every one of these papers."

The idea is caught up by the minority: it is improved on by Colonel Barré. He proceeds to invent an amendment that to be appreciated requires explanation. The reporter to the St. James's Chronicle,

the culprit then in question, had sinned thus against propriety. In his narrative of a debate, he suggested that Mr. Dyson, Weymouth's representative, was "the d-n of this country." This stood for bigoted Conservative, or veteran placeman in the language of the day. So delicate an indication of dislike to Mr. Dyson was, however, somewhat veiled. The name of the borough was substituted for that of the member: "Jeremiah Weymouth" was declared to be England's curse. This feature in the' libel was taken hold of by Barré. He advocated strict accuracy. It was not correct that that mis-statement should be entered on their proceedings: no member bore the name of Weymouth. So Barré clothed the point in parliamentary shape, and put into the Speaker's mouth a motion, "That Jeremiah Weymouth, Esq., the d-n of this country, is not 66 a member of this House.' The question was gravely argued. The Premier rose to reply. And to parry this formal absurdity another formality was used: the previous question" was resorted to; and by a majority of 82 it was determined "That that question be not now put."

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The Jeremiah Weymouth motion was thus warded off. But the joke was too good to let slip: the unwearied minority started another technical difficulty. Colonel Barré and Mr. Onslow rose together. "As being first in the Speaker's eye," Onslow claimed priority in debate. That Barré had stood up first was asserted by his party. With whom lay the right of speech was tenaciously disputed. The opportunity for vexation and delay was most acceptable. Motions and amendments were originated, some comic, some serious. Burke, with mock earnestness, of course at length,-argued upon the point of "the Speaker's eye." It was, he said, a novel doctrine : he desired to be shown the passage in the Journals that contained those words, "the Speaker's eye." And, with that curious observance of order in disorder that marks the House of Commons its Journals were examined up to the reign of Queen Elizabeth.

The appetite for "precedents" being thus satiated, the more common tactics of delay were persistently employed. These for a moment became exhausted, though the patience of the minority was not. The question from which the House had been severed by an interval of some hours' duration was replaced in the Speaker's mouth; and Mr. Baldwin's summons to the bar, as printer of the St. James's Chronicle, was finally moved and carried.

He was, however, but the second offender in the motion of complaint. Six hours had been spent. Only one of the three brace of printers was, to use Mawbey's phrase," hunted down." Symptoms of distress arose a member querulously remarked that it was halfpast ten o'clock; that at the rate at which they were proceeding, it would take, at least, thirteen hours to procure the committal of the four remaining printers. This was much too feeble a remark to please any one. The House very warm." A few quotations will show the state of the atmosphere. Mr. Onslow exclaimed, "Good

was still "

God, Sir! let any one think of the language used in the newspapers, and say "whether it is not high time for the "House to interfere." Sir Wm. Meredith retorted, "So long as I have health "and strength I will stay here to oppose "this wretched proceeding." "I shall "not be hindered from going on with "these divisions because gentlemen call "it a childish business," added Burke. "Constitutions are in such a case of "little consideration; I am for going on "till to-morrow night," asserts another member. Nor were these plucky declarations left unfulfilled. Both sides were properly obstinate. It took seven more motions and divisions to procure the summons of the printer who stood next upon the list of proscription.

Mr. Whitworth here distinguished himself by a successful sally upon the victorious majority. He claimed that if the printer did come before them, it should "be together with all his compositors, (C pressmen, correctors, blackers, and "devils." The idea pleased Mr. Burke:

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his fancy kindled at the absurdity. The printer's train suggested analogous illustration. "These are the fitting symbols "of the printer's vocation," he said; "without his 'blackers and devils' a printer would be no more, than the Speaker would be without the mace, or a First Lord of the Treasury without "his majority." To a polite ear one of the printer's satellites had a name quite intolerable. It was pleaded that the word "devil" should be omitted from the sentence. The proposal came from one of Burke's own band, but in vain. The devil might not be spared: "he "is the most material personage in the "whole business," was the leader's answer. Respect for the unseen world could not hold its ground in the House, nor could respect for the solemn record of its proceedings. The Speaker is plaintively appealed to: "Can, Sir, such a disgrace"ful motion as this be placed on our "votes" The Speaker makes plaintive reply, "This motion will go into the Journals. What will posterity say?" The motion has gone into the Journals; it certainly has a singular appearance on pages generally so solemn. The hope that the Speaker is not now as annoyed by this entry, as we have been amused, is all that is left to posterity to say.

The Journal dated March 12, 1771, has truly a singular aspect. The page contains, of course, those samples of an extraparliamentary vocabulary. The words also, "the House divided," are repeated, time after time. The page is perfectly studded with the records of these divisions. The Yeas go forth-the Noes go forth :-it is being perpetually moved that "this House do now adjourn;' that "the said paper be not delivered in and read;" that "the question be now put: and all these motions are as persistently negatived as they are affirmed. A review of that evening's debate suggests a rejoinder to Speaker Cust's interrogatory. Posterity must say for its own part, that, extraordinary as is the look of that Journal page, the conduct of the Speaker himself must have been still more extra

ordinary. He increased, rather than