FICTION.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1507, 17 January 1901, Page 7

FICTION.

THE SILENT PARLIAMENT

BY ROBERT BARR. (Author cf “The Mutable Many/' etc.)

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]

SYNOPSIS OF INSTALMENTS I ; AND IY.

The reader is introduced to a travelling lecturer, Richard Stanford, who is sitting on the steps of his van, smoking. He is a man about twenty-five years of age, with firm mouth and stubborn jaw. To him comes a horseman—the son, of ’the owner of the surrounding land—who peremptorily orders him to move on, which, after a friendly conversation, he does. He stops again in a quipt hamlet, and lectures to the villagers. A beautiful lady, reclining in a boat on the edge of a lake, is assailed by a rough tramp, who, in pursuit of money, is about'to carry out his threats of violence, when Stanford is drawn to the spot by the lady’s cries for help, and! sends the tramp off. An interesting conversation ensues, which is, however, terminated by the tramp, who, with .great strategy, had silently returned, and dealt Stanford a blow which sent him into the water. He is rescued by some of Mrs Greenhow’s men, and carried to the Hall, where the doctor attends him. On regaining consciousness he finds the lady of the adventure by his side. She and her father and brother frequently discuss their strange visitor, who as frequently finds a champion in Mrs Greenhow. CHAPTER VI—CONTINUED. “Bless me!” said Mrs Greenhow, “I thought the opinion of all you socialists was, that the voice of the people was the voice of God.” “I don’t know that I am a socialist; in fact, I don’t know what I am. 1 merely have this fixed idea in my head, about earth, air and water; and I would' always prevent the people from interfering with a law of nature.” “So you intend to be a despot, Mr Stanford 1 . This is tremendously interesting. May I ask how you propose to set about it?’’ “Well, in the first place I intend to become Prim© Minister of England.” “Oh! And is that only a first step ?”

“Only a._first step, Mrs Greenhow. The people of England, in electing me to that honourable position, will imagine they are electing a friend, in that they will ... be entirely right; but if they think they are ©looting a man who will allow them to do as they please, they will find! them- “ But if you do not allow them to do selves entirely wrong.” s as they please, they will speedily retaliate by turning you out of your position. . You cannot hold the position of Prime • Minister of England without the consent of the governed, you know. 5 ' * ; , vr “Quite so! but Parliament lasts for : eseven years, and in that seven years I can accomplish all I desire to do; after - that some one else will carry on the work, which, once begun, wili never be allowed to go backward. I intend! to ‘ have a cast-iron mechanical majority, -that will vote exactly as I telh them to r-vote, and when I am Prime Minister of 0 England I shall remain so for the seven years, during which time the revolution ■ jvill be accomplished.” ( . “What do you \inean by a mechanical rmajority ?” •' ' v “A majority that is paid by me, and will do as I tell them, just as if they were my clerks, and I the head of a big firm in the City. I shall have a majority : in Parliament of young men who will .do nothing but vote; they will make no speeches. I will make no speech myself, ■but merely proclaim what I am going to I .have done and then vote it through.” “But what about- the House of Lords, Mr Stanford’ ?” “Oh, I will put in my majority there, "too; there will be no trouble with tne House of Lord’s. The moment lam Pre- • mier I will hire my young men and make Lords of them at once, until the present *- majority' is.swamped, andi L can carry " through what measures I desire.” “Good gracious, Mr Stanford, what a terrible man you are ; if I had known all r this when you were down under the water I might havp hesitated about pulling you out again. But this mechanical •: majority of yours, how do you intend to get it together?” > “Just as any City man would get to- .- gether the clerks necessary for his busif ness. I intend to hire them.” '‘But wouldn’t that be a,gainst the law? Wouldn’t it be bribery or something?” v “No, there would be no bribery -about it. I merely hire and pay the men for .' doing a certain thing for me. I shall - put them up in-; constituencies, and get them if possible. At the first general election we may get only a few r in; at the next election, we shall have more, and at the third we will probably have a majority, but if not, we will wait patiently, and not throw our hands up , until we do.” >. . , - ’ - r - “And! die you intend to pay your members of Parliament for their services?” “Certainly/’

“And„«from what class do you propose to draw them ?’ “From the- clerks that I have so often referred to. I expect to engage reliable, silent, obedient members of Parliament for a salary, on an average, of thirty shillings a week. I expect to get my House of Lords for a pound a week, because they will not be called upon so often as my members of the . House or Commons.”

“How do you propose to get the money- to pay these silent members c f Parliament, Mr Stanford?’'' “Oh, I intend! to float a company, called the Reformation of England Company, Limited, with a capital of - one hundred thousand pounds. I shall try, first, to get rich men interested in the company, but if I fail in that, as tne chances are that I shall, I shall try to float' the stock in one pound shares ail over the country.” “But I don't- see how your company is going to pay a dividend. What inducement are you going to offer the people to. go in ?” “Well, I have thought that, if I coaid get the rich men interested, the} 7 would come in for the good of the cause; but if I am forced to go to the poorer classes for the money, then- I shall make the capital a charge on the future resources of the country. The country can very ■well afford .to pay the money used for its own reformation.” '

“No, the country ought not to. ob.’ect to such a charge, but then, yon know, the co'untry is said: to be ungrateful. You would never be content until you made England a republic, Air Stanford. ' “No, I think I am satisfied with the state cf things as they are, though the governing power ought to be satisfied on thirty shillings a week. We greatly over-pay our rulers.” “Fancy a King on thirty shillings a week,” said Airs Greenhow. “Oh, I don’t mean to- say that 1 would bring Royalty down to the thirty shilling a week basis ; I might personally be willing to allow five or six pounds a week, but that would be for the country to decide; it would he very wealthy, and might, care to pay well for being governed l well.” “Have you made an estimate, Mr Stanford, of ho.w long your hundred thousand pounds would last you? You would need about one thousand persons in your employ, for yo.ur House of Commons, and your House of Lords' too. If you paid them a - pound a week there would be used fifty-two thousand pounds a year; you see your capital would not last you two years, and great reforms are not brought about in that time.” “I have figured it all out. You see, L would not need the House of Lords for some time, and! that would be a great saving which would 1 extend the capital over four years; besides, lam not sure but I could make my House of Lords self-supporting) If a certain number of men who could support themselves, signed my measure, I would make Lords of them .without a salary; but the making of a House of Lords might not be at all necessary* I should wait, before creating it, to have my first bill thrown out by them, when I would tell them plainly that if they did not pass that bill when next it was sent up from the House of Commons, I should at once create the number of lords to give the majority I wanted. I think by that time I should be well enough known in England to have my measures passed without greato.pposition.”

“I see,” said Mrs Greenhow. “Then your Reformation Company, Limited, would not go bankrupt for four or five . years at least; and what would theliufs of your Land Nationalisation. Bill be ?” “Oil, simplj T that all occupiers of land would pay rent to the Government.” ; . r “Well, Mr Stanford, this is more intar- -\ esting than any novel I ever read in my * life, but I would like you to come down a . little more to details. Take, for instance, :my father’s land. What would you do • with it and" what would he do without '•it? If all private ownership in the ..land were abolished he would have to vgive it up.” “Oh, no, he would pay a rent for it, Mrs Greenhow, which I imagine would be only slightly in excess of the taxes he pays on it* now, but, of course, be would_not draw the ' tremendous revenues which he does now from ’t. 1 don’t suppose the change would affect our landed! gentry; those whose incomes were wholly drawn from the land might have to turn to and work, but that would only be what thousands of their countrymen have been doing all their lives; still, lam not sure but what we would consider the case of some of these; - and perhaps guarantee them a livelihood. England under this hew rule would rapidly become one of the richest countries in the world. Its revenues would be something enormous, even charging but a slight rental for an estate such as this. It could afford to deal generously with those it dispossessed, but' that should not be .considered as a right; in fact,' it should he the other . way; the landowners who have derived their revenues from the land should! be - compelled to disgorge, hut the country will be in a condition to look on this with a generous eye. lam confident that when the time comes, we will guarantee a certain income to those who lose heavily by the transfer.” “If my father had to work for his Jiving,” said Mrs Greenhow, “what would you suggest as the best way of earning -it?” “Prom what I saw of your father on the Bench,” said Stanford, “I imagine we could afford to give him a good salary as a magistrate.*

“He would have to give up the of course?” “Certainly. The men who would Lave the first claim on the farms woui.c’l be the men who tilled them.” “And this Hall, —I suppose you*would take it away from him ?” “Oh, no! Ton evidently do nor understand our principles yet, Mrs Greenhow. The Hall, being built by Ihe hand of man, belongs to the descendants of those who built it. If your father were unable to pay the rent for the Hall and we were compelled to let it- to someone else, we should compensate him for all that he actually owns.” “That would be very generous/'’ said Airs Greenhow sarcastically. “Not generous, but just,” replied, tne earnest young man. “We intend to be just first, and afterwards, if we can afford it, generous.” “And when do you expect to get" this Parliament of clerks together ?” “Oh, it may take years, or it may never come in my lifetime at a 1!. Tliereason. I go through the country in my van, lecturing, is not to convince people, but to find out as nearly.as I can, how public opinion stands. We have had these vans for years in different parts of the country, and I want to discover what effect they have had upon the minds of the people. This-,is why I ask every one to sign a document that I carry with me, and I have the idea, that- theße things will come; about much sooner than the people expect.” “And when you are convinced the majority of the people are with you, and will float your Reformation of England scheme,?” ~ . “Yes, if not a little before I’m convinced.” Mrs Greenhow mused for some moments on the things whioh she had heard, then, looked up -and said, “It seems to me the weak part of your scheme is the capital; I don’t believe you will succeed in getting it together. Are there many rich people who believe in Land Nationalisation ?” “Oh, yes, very many.” “Well, I don’t know much about public companies, but it seems to me this one! shdulcl be absolutely at your own disposal.” “I intend it shall be so.” “You will find it most difficult. There will be a board of directors who will make all sorts of provisos about the money, but it seems to me success will depend upon your absolute; control. It also seems to me that your chance of getting the- money is to convince some very rich person that you are right, and if that person has confidence in you, the money should be placed unrestrictedly in your hands. Otherwise you will be hampered in every way.” “There is a good deal in that,” said Stanford. “There is everything in it. You- have no experience in the forming of companies. You want a- free hand, and that is 3 just what you will not get. You would have, to hold stockholders;’ meetings, and file reports of them somewhere, and the whole thing would be perfectly ludicrous.” Stanford looked up at her anxiously before he said : “Yes, X see 1 that is the weak part of my scheme, but there is no way of getting round it ; it must be done.” “But it can’t be done, not on the company basis. You will have, to find your rich person.” “How am I to find such a person?” he asked, with knitted brows. “Anyone who will trust me with a hundred thousand pounds. I might perhaps get a hundred pounds, but when it comes to the thousands, then a man draws up his purse strings tight.” “I don’t- believe you can find a man who would trust you, with a hundred thousand pounds. There isn’t a man m England who would, I a,m sure!, advance you money for such a scheme.” “Then,” said Stanford, “what would you advise me to- do?” “I would advise you to find a rich Woman. And here she is/’ said the lady, holding; out her hand. “I will venture to lend you one Hundred thousand pounds, Air Stanford.” CHAPTER VII. The young man looked at Airs Greenhow in amazement. In spite of the fact that, it was; his business to desseminate ideas among the people 1 , he was himself rather slow at comprehending anything unusual. “Do you mean to offetr,” he asked, in astonishment, “to furnish all the money ?” “Yes,” she answered rather gaily, “I mean to be the Reformation of England Company, Limited, myself.” “But I can give you no guarantee!/’ lie said, dolefully. “I knew you were a poor company promotor,” she replied. “You should leave all ohje®tio-ns- to. the capitalist, and confine yourself to answering them; that will give you quite; enough to do.” The young man’s eyes were not ’upon her, but seemed to be gazing into dis- 1 , tant futurity. This somewhat piqued the lady, who thought he ought te have

thanked her warmly, instead of acting as though she were not in the neighbourhood.

“If you paid the money into the bank, say five hundred pounds at a time,” said the young man, meditatively, more to himself than to the lady, “i could give you vouchers that would show you accurately to what use I was putting the cash.” - “Nonsense!” cried Airs Greenhow. “A woman trusts altogether, or not at all. If you want to cneia-t- me you have an excellent opportunity; I shall not prosecute you. I cannot bother looking over vouchers.” Something in the aggrieved tone drew the young man’s eyes Irom scanning the future to- her face. “I am glad,” he at- length said, “that you believe in any project.” “I don’t believe in it in t-hdleast,” she cri ed. “Then why do you offer to furnish the money?” “Oh, for various reasons. As you know, I have given away a good deal of money m a manner which you think is not at all to my credit. I think myself that it has done very little good. What I like about your scheme is that it is going to give emoloyment to a- number of deserving young men at thirty shillings, and one pound a week. They will earn, the money, and therefore, .will have a right to it; even you. will admit- that, so long as they do not invest their savings in land, which, I think, there is little chance of their doing on thirty shillings a week.” ' “If you do not believe in the justice of our crusade, i shall not take the, money.” “What difference does that make?” she cried, impatiently, “you have belief enough for a dozen. I shall know that the money is distributed among a number of deserving young men, who are Earning it. That- will be satisfaction enough for me. If your crusade is successful, the world may be better for it. We shall see. But for a man who believes as- you do, to> refuse! money, from whatever source it comes, seems to me very futile ; in fact, you make me; doubt the* sincerity of your mission,. by your refusal. A real reformer takes wnatever he can get, so long as it puts forward his cause.” “Yes,” said Stanford. “I was wrong to speak of refusing, but I was thinking more of you than of the( cause, for the moment. I should not like to lose your money, you know.” (To be Continued.)