DWALA was duly elected, and took his seat in the House of Commons.
This Parliament, which had come in with loud blowing of trumpets as a truly representative assembly, was but a poor thing after all, the rickety child of a long line of dissipated ancestors; a perplexity of Imperialists, Federalists, Separatists, Food Taxers, Free Traders, Church Reformers, Church Defenders, Labour Members, Irish Members, and Members frankly representative of private aims—men who sat for cotton, or coal, or simply beer. No Prime Minister could have ruled the country with it.
The Government was in a tottering condition. Round after round they had been so heavily punished by the Opposition, that it was all they could do to stand up, dizzy and defensive, to await the knock-out blow. The Irish Party, sated with concessions, had got altogether out of hand, and at last gone frankly over to the other side. O’Grady, their leader, like an elusive knight in a game of chess, sprang here and there about the board, attacking in two or three places at once; while the big-wigs of the Liberal Party sat solidly on their squares, breathing destruction down appropriated lines. Tory Rooks and Tory Bishops trembled every time O’Grady moved, and pawns went down like nine-pins, sacrificed in the hope of deferring the inevitable check-mate. The poor Premier, designed by Nature for a life of contemplation, marvelled at the inconsiderate unrest of public men, and sought a decent opportunity of withdrawing to the urbane refinements of private life.
Meanwhile, what is called ‘the business of the country’ must be carried on. Posts worth several thousand pounds a year cannot be left begging for an occupant; as Ministers went under in the attack, new Ministers must be found, not among the jealous multitude of small-bore country squires and city manufacturers, but among the big guns of longer range. Dwala was eminently one of this park. His apparition in politics had been so sudden; the influence of his backers was so strong; his stooping from big opportunities of pleasure to the tedium of Parliament was so much of a condescension, that the Party felt he had a right to a handsome recompense. Besides, the last vacant post could only be filled by a representative of one of the great seats of learning. Dwala was made President of the Board of Education. He said nothing, he did nothing; others talked and worked; and all agreed that he was a great success. He was the best-informed Minister in the Cabinet. Others acted and did harm; he studied and did none.