Part 15

February had arrived; and midway through the despised, misunderstood month, the Houses of Parliament met. Writs to fill vacant seats were moved for. Geoffrey Season was back at Armingham Castle, strenuously electioneering, pursuing the last lap of his candidature.

The newspapers describe elections so well that it is not necessary for this poor pen to tell the story of that particular battle between the Buffs and the Blues. It is enough to state that the foreseen took place--it is, despite the Disraelian dictum, nearly always the expected that happens--Lord Geoffrey Season was put at the top of the poll, defeating his Blue opponent, Mr. Tutherman, by a few less than seven hundred votes, which was rather better than the average in that constituency.

He arrived at the House of Commons, the youngest, and, therefore, the most sanguine member of Parliament, ten days after the session had commenced. He purposed determinately to carry into effect the projects of the fairies.

When he was introduced to the Commons and took his seat, the Debate on the Address was still proceeding turgidly. Progress struggled feebly against a stream of talk.

June and Bim entered the House with Geoffrey; and as nowadays she went hardly anywhere in public without the accompaniment of a self-appointed bodyguard, full fifty fairies grouped around her. Queenly was her state as she surveyed, from the vantage-ground of the clock, the languid, sprawling gentlemen who comprised the House. For quite a time the elves watched the proceedings. They were amused and puzzled by many things; it would be inappropriate here to detail precisely what these were.

Then gradually the fairies grew bored; the infinite stream of talk went on and on. The light of their presences faded. Their glory was dwindling. Their strength, which is expressed in brightness, was gradually diminishing.

This wouldn't do! June roused herself, and gave Bim a push which sent him spinning and then sprawling on the floor of the House below. He rose indignant at this treatment, strode with his stiffest dignity to the table, and, with a spring and some effort, perched himself astride the mace.

From that moment the Commons began to be transformed. The fairies resumed their brightness, and shone with light which would have dazzled humanity had eyes of clay been able to realize immortal glories. The clock stopped--its mechanism was more atune to elf-influence than that of the prose-builders below. Members--for no particular reason that they knew--came trooping in; and within ten minutes every green bench on the floor of the House and in the galleries was packed.

June spread her wings, and flew over the heads of the legislators. Her companions followed her example. With wands they tapped the mighty brows of legislators, and prepared their minds for obedience. Members wearing hats were poked in the nape of the neck. All--without exception--were inoculated with magic. The Irish party became a little uproarious, and effectively facetious.

The stream of prose went on.

June gave Bim her wand, and bade him take the chair. He gravely clambered along the Treasury table, came to the trio of clerks, and, after bowing with due respect thrice, according to usage--his seat on the mace had touched him with Parliamentary decorum--the intrepid adventurer climbed the Speaker's robes and squatted soberly upon his wig. The dignity of Parliament was enhanced.

The gnome knew he was making history, so he took care to keep awake.

Mr. Speaker began to feel strangely nervous, to have forebodings--as if an unexpected precedent was about to be established.

Meanwhile the stream of prose went on. The present malefactor was ----, but his name shall not be immortalized! This is all I will say, O reader: he was of the opposite school of politics to you. Even members on his own side of the House began to be impatient. A few cried "'Vide!" but only feebly. His misdoing was condoned by the general indifference.

He went on lamenting and lamely protesting that the Government in the King's Speech had not included a Bill to regulate Charity Bazaars, and was endeavouring to institute a comparison with the social system of the ancient Assyrians. His peroration had been misplaced; he had begun with it. He had reached his seventhly. There were no signs of the approaching end, no means whatever of computing when that might be. He merely went on. His speech was like a long and muddy road on a splashy wet night.

June crowned Geoffrey. Obediently he rose.

"Mr. Speaker," he said, with the gesture that practice in the bedroom had made perfect. "This intolerable flow of drivel----"

"Order! Order!" cried a hundred voices.

The interrupted orator turned round to stare at Geoffrey with eyes of angry surprise.

Intervention came from the proper place. The Speaker was on his feet. Bim clung to the wig to prevent his displacement.

"The noble lord," said Mr. Speaker, in his most conciliatory and compelling manner, "is so young a member of the House that he merits every indulgence; but I must remind him that to interrupt an honourable member in any other way than by rising to a point of order is a serious breach of the procedure and order of this House."

Geoffrey had, of course, resumed his seat immediately the Speaker rose; but, authority having spoken, the crown would no more let him sit still, acquiescent, than it had allowed any of its human wearers to remain their normal selves. He rose again.

A tornado of cries of "Order!" greeted Geoffrey's further involuntary breach of obedience.

June flew across to the Speaker.

Old Parliamentary hands turned to look at their new colleague. His further breach of order was done with perfect manner. There was no shouting vulgarity about his interruption, but a definite purpose, pleasantly expressed. They rapidly summed him up. He was well-looking, well-dressed, good House-of-Commons form, yet with a refreshing look of determination in his eyes. Far within themselves the veterans began to admire and to wonder. Geoffrey's debut, they felt, was full of promise; it marked a man of the future as surely as the Hartington yawn had done.

"He will do," they said; "impudence and brains." That was their verdict in the beginning. Shrewd were those front-benchers, but they did not quite know Geoffrey.

"May I apologize, Mr. Speaker, and explain----"

"I decline to give way," declared the important person whose pomposity and portentous drivel had provoked the elves' interruption.

"'Vide! 'vide!" cried a Labour man, merely in mischief.

June kissed the Speaker. Without blushing, yet with perfect grace and modesty, in the interests of true progress, she kissed him; while Bim, lying full length along the top of his wig, pressed the wand against his forehead, and willed him to do as the fairies required. Could any man successfully resist such powers? No! Even the first of Commoners could not.

The Speaker, as he stood waiting to deliver judgment, knew he was, though dazed through the brightness, even clearer-headed than usual. He was on the awesome edge of a precedent. He wondered how the decision then to be given would be received; ordinarily it would have filled the House with amazement, but the earlier inoculation with magic had already begun to take effect. The Speaker was aware of strange powers and presences about him.

The person of pompous prose, realizing that his dignity was endangered, again cried a protest; but he was so far away from the sympathies of his fellow-members--he had bored them so severely--that with clamour they shouted him down. Thanks to the fairies, every single member in that House hurled "Order!" at him.

Though technically quite in order, he was forced to subside. He felt badly treated; he was badly treated: and serve him jolly well right!

During the whole of the subsequent scene--a glorious page in the new English history--the nonentity sulked. Bim after a while went to sit on his knee, endeavouring to charge him with the elixir of elfdom; but it was difficult, at that stage of chronic self-esteem, for any good influence to pierce the crust of prejudice, jealousy, and indignation which bound him.

But the gnome went on making effort, and eventually did soften the pride of that creature of grandiose pomposity.

June's kiss was momentous; it bore with it power. The Speaker throughout his being trembled at her intangible touch; a smile, which would have been seraphic had it not been for the wig, brightened and gladdened his face.

The old Parliamentary hands glanced with swift inquiry at each other; then centred their gaze on him. What was coming?

"This is an exceptional occasion," he ruled, in level, serious tones. "It is an hour wherein a precedent may usefully be created. The noble lord may make his explanation. The House will listen with attention."

To their own surprise, the members cheered. What they knew full well was utterly wrong seemed to them then utterly right. Geoffrey was encouraged in his fairy courses. The crown, pressed on his smooth locks, filled him with elation of purpose. He felt as light-hearted and confident as a skylark--as powerful as a steam-engine; potent, joyful, energetic, controlling.

"Mr. Speaker," he said, "I must and do apologize sincerely to the honourable member for interrupting him in the manner I was compelled to do; but the protest I was forced to make was done in obedience to some superior power. I feel--we all feel--that in these latter days new and admirable forces have become effective in the national life."

"Hear, hear!" said the Leader of the Opposition.

"Ideals, opposed absolutely to many popular fixed opinions, are prevalent. The reign of ugliness, selfishness, materialism, is threatened by new and admirable influences. Old forms must modify themselves to suit younger and nobler purposes. It was, and is, as the spokesman of those powers that I have ventured so soon to intrude on the attention of the House."

A murmur of approval ran round the benches. No party was quite silent; the only individual who regarded Geoffrey with suspicion and coldness was the victim whom Bim was sitting on, trying to melt.

"I do protest," Geoffrey went on, "and I shall continue to protest, on behalf of progress and humanity, against the waste of public time through mere talk. The House has listened for three-quarters of an hour to the honourable member; and, I venture to say--with a further apology to him--was in no way inspired or benefited by what he was saying. His speech merely occupied time which is urgently required by the country for the fulfilment of practical, national business. In the name of the fairies, I assert--and the House will uphold me--that whenever an honourable member, no matter where his seat may be, obstructs or even wearies the House with a dull, dilatory, or unnecessary speech, I shall move that some Bill which makes for social progress, whether it appear on the paper or not, be immediately considered, shelving at once the subject under discussion at the time. This will insure that, in a very little while, what is publicly said will be worth saying, worth listening to; and that true legislation will march. For the purpose of preparing the House for this new course of progress--thank the fairies for the idea, Mr. Speaker, don't thank me!--I respectfully inform you, Sir, that I shall to-morrow bring in a Bill to abolish cemeteries, and so to reform our burial customs, that God's acre may be a pleasant garden, wherein people may contemplate immortality without being shocked by pagan stone-ware and unhealthy tombs."

The House thrilled at the calm words which expressed such revolution of methods. It was like suggesting that the world should be summarily dissolved and rebuilt. Yet members heard it like lambs, though even then one voice of interruption was raised.

A member who had entered the Chamber but a few moments before, and therefore was bewildered by the impropriety of Geoffrey's action, and astounded at the strained attention of the House, made formal inquiry.

"Is this in order, Mr. Speaker?"

"No," was the sharp reply, received in ominous silence. "The noble lord is quite out of order, but he may continue!"

Such a volley of cheering rang out that the lights overhead, behind their glass partition, shivered. A united sigh of satisfaction swelled into sound. Members were relieved that the outbreak against convention was not summarily stopped.

June kissed the Speaker again. She was proud, pleased, and grateful. He who had raised the point of order--Mr. Wash, the member for Somewhere--stared, staggered, subsided, squeezed himself into half a seat, and soon found himself, too, under the spell of elf-influence and in cordial sympathy with the reformer.

No more protests were made, then or thereafter, against Geoffrey's irregular courses. He hurried along his fairy way, happily free. He felt more like a skylark than ever. Admiration marched after him with giant strides. In those moments of Parliamentary debut he was establishing a reputation which years of official perseverance might never have attained.

"Against useless speeches," he thundered, encouraged--the bedroom manner was effective--"the fairies wage their war. They have commissioned me, also, to declare their absolute disapproval of mere party politics."

There were murmurs of doubt here. The Irish party was even vociferous. June waved the wand; the Speaker raised his hand; the sounds subsided instantly. Never before had the Chair been so willingly obeyed.

"I know," said Geoffrey, "that the party system is a natural development, that without it political life would lose much of its vitality; but it has become a mockery, a nuisance, a mischief; it has gone too far."

"Hear, hear!" said an arch obstructor, the brim of whose silk hat was gay with five fairies.

A loud burst of laughter echoed his words. Saul was indeed among the prophets. That arch obstructor was notorious for his tactics and skill at the business. His moves were dictated solely by party means for party purposes. They had caused more than one good movement, promising the growth of national well-being, to be frustrated, injured or killed.

"I mean it!" he said emphatically, removing his hat to say so, and thereby causing the five fairies to flutter, sparkling, for some moments above him. Their radiance shone on his high bald brow. His fellow members saw enough of the elf-brightness actually to think it the light of his inspiration. They cheered a volley. Encouraged by this amazing tribute, much of it from men who hitherto had not admired him, he vowed secretly never, never, never again wantonly to hinder or harm a possible good cause by obstructive tactics. Saul, better than a prophet now, had become angelic.

"How many a Bill, supported by the most thoughtful members, in all parts of this House, has been sacrificed to some supposed partisan advantage," Geoffrey continued. "The history of legislation, Mr. Speaker, is choked with statesmanlike intentions, spoiled wantonly. That possibility must not continue."

"Hear, hear!"

"It must not continue. The fairies have given the word. They must be obeyed."

"Hear, hear! Hear, hear!"

"The party organizations, of course, must remain; general business still must be conducted along party lines, for opposition is practically as necessary as government; but the tendency to use party forces as an insensate block must be checked. Hereby, Mr. Speaker, I respectfully give notice that, while loyal to my party, the Buffs, I shall vote for a good Bill promoted by the Blues whenever I think it is calculated honestly to help the people. Buff or Blue, progress is much the same. I stand for true progress. Will at least twenty members from every one of the four parties in this House join with me, look with impartial eyes, as I shall look, at any and all Bills presented to it, and make efforts to pass them when their passage would be for the social good of the nation?"

Voices from every bench on the floor of the House, as well as from the parallel galleries above, cried accord with the intention. Geoffrey had his lead.

"Then that is settled. We--this new National Party--will be strong enough to help any Government, Buff or Blue, to carry good measures; and strong enough to force reasonable amendments in otherwise desirable Bills. We shall hold the balance of power, and progress will be made along a middle way. Mr. Speaker, I have done! I thank the House for its great consideration and courtesy to a new member. I have been listened to with a kindness which proves the patriotism of this historic House. I am proud so soon to have been permitted to suggest remedies for the congested condition of public business, and, thanks to the sympathy of honourable members, to have been enabled to devise means whereby causes inspired by the fairies will triumph."

He resumed his seat. Excited applause broke out. Members waved their hats. Three, at least, stood on the benches, the better to cheer. Geoffrey Season was a made Parliamentary man.

The House hushed to hear its Leader. Gracefully leaning on a Treasury box, he smiled a smile of philosophic doubt. Seeing this, June waved command to a bevy of elf-princes, who forthwith transferred the crown from Geoffrey's head to his. At once the smile broadened, its doubt diminished, its philosophy increased.

"The House," said he, "has listened to the noble lord with considerable interest and admiration; and rightly so. He is, it is true, a child in these things; but out of unsophisticated mouths the best wisdom sometimes comes. I am a House of Commons man myself, and any proposal calculated to diminish, or actually to injure, the machinery of this Chamber would be hotly resisted by me; but because a system has lasted a great many years--as the party system has done--is that any reason for its undisturbed continuance? My question must be answered in the negative. I say No; and join with the noble lord in inviting honourable members to look at all Bills with impartial eyes. The Government will do its best to meet the views of the new National Party. I am inclined to wish I could become a member of that party myself. I congratulate the noble lord on being its leader. If it were not for the Labour members--a most useful body--I should say that the old Fourth Party lived again." He paused. He sighed, "Ah me!" and then reclined again.

The House at once voted the Address. Members hurried to remove from the notice paper futile resolutions and blocking motions. A score of bills, prudently progressive, were at once formally introduced. Parties vied with each other in making constructive suggestions. Parliament was full of the spirit which made the Psalmist's mountains skip like rams. It went to work with a will.

In the midst of this whirl of fine happenings the fairies departed. They flew to the top of the Victoria Tower, and revelled; while Bim, unblessed with powers of flight, went peacefully to sleep in Geoffrey's breast-pocket.

*CHAPTER XXI*

*OBERON AT LAST*

So far as the conquest of London was concerned, all was over except the shouting. June was triumphant. There was no question about that. Victory clung to her as a golden shadow. More and more elves came from Fairyland, each one increasing the area for good, and becoming a present testimony to the truth of June's victory.

Oberon was silent; as yet he made no sign--he remained far away, hunting in the valleys of obstinacy; but no other in the shadow-lands of Faerie hesitated to acknowledge the glorious truth. June's madness--as they called it--was justified.

Spring came creeping up. Nature awoke; shook off her lethargy, and cried welcome to the future. The trees were cautiously putting on raiment. Birds found their forgotten voices, and began practising anthems, preparing for the nesting season. June, touched by the hope in the air, and strengthened with the satisfaction of seeing a recovered or recovering London, was modestly confident.

A human person, with such progress behind him, would have been cocksure; but the fairies know better!

She showed her strength and content by an act of courage. She sent the crown back to Fairyland; Bim, as a special mark of honour, was privileged to take it.

The gnome, through this great trust--so responsible, so ennobling--was rapt up to the seventeenth realm of happiness. The privilege filled him with a fine humility. He did not presume to wear the crown; he held it with reverence in his hands, and when riding his pelican homewards--June procured one for that mission from St. James's Park--carried it carefully under his arm.

He reached the Violet Valley, delivered the crown to its mystical guardians, and then, eager to give expression to his wonderful adventures, told to excited groups of immortals tales of the doings of June. His words came forth in torrents. He had so much to say. He developed unexpected powers of expression. He found himself, while detailing his epic, shining with the graces of minor poetry. Nymphs, gathering about him as he spoke, sweetened his narrative with chords struck on harps of gold and starshine. His tales were repeated by tellers a hundredfold. A fairy "Iliad" was in the making. Not a flower or frog in Elfland failed to receive a full, true, and particular account of what the fairy and gnome had experienced, and of their ultimate triumph.

The result was better than glorious. Bim was acting as a first-rate recruiting officer. In consequence of his eloquence, the flow of fairies townwards grew rapidly in volume. The more he talked, the faster they flew. His ardour and loquacity were stimulated still further by this increasing--and vanishing--evidence of his success. Encouraged, he went on talking--explaining, appealing. He stood on a stump, an orator. His persuasiveness and powers of speech were depopulating Fairyland. They harkened, ruminated, and fled.

Oberon, made aware of this, was roused at last to the seriousness of things, and came back to Elfland in a panic.

"I told you so!" said Titania, with that inconsequence and gentle insistency her lord so loved.

The king airily murmured a royal "Pooh!" and hid his thoughts in a mist.

Never before had the real Fairyland been so silent. Many of the glades were empty. The flowers drooped. Noxious insects took courage and prowled. The murmurs of chained dragons, subterraneously entombed, were heard in the stillness for the first time for centuries; but they were securely prisoned.

The fairy knights, their warders, strong in their high chivalry and duteous devotion, resisted all inclination to follow the wings of their fellows. They remained, abiding and true, at their arduous, difficult posts, guarding the fiery caverns. Mankind has no idea of the dangers that threatened them. If those living, prehistoric creatures had escaped--but, no!--no!--no more of that! Let the horrors remain in the ghastly depths, to be remembered only on those rare occasions when, with their mighty convolutions, they cause earthquake.

The fairies flew crowding into London and the other cities which they had forsaken; and did not come alone. Gnomes, thousandfold, also came riding in, mounted on all manner of birds--goldfinches and tits, robins and wrens, and others of the fine companionage of the feathered kingdom. The monopoly of King Sparrow was over. He was kept in his proper place, and became a decent and tolerant Bohemian.

Later in the summer season--when soft is the sun--bright-coloured butterflies fluttered carelessly out of the country into the radiant streets. Several birds went open-mouthed to greet them; but the fairy power was so potent that the lingering things of beauty--the living smiles of Psyche--were not touched.