Page:History of the Anti corn law league - Volume 2.pdf/95

 'Those of our readers who may happen to have visited Exeter 'Change—now alas! numbered with the things that were!—cannot fail to remember the strange scenes of uproar that used to be presented in the menagerie, at feeding time. The wild beasts on both sides the exhibition-room were all in the fiercest state of excitement—yelling, braying, roaring, each vieing with the other in the manifestation of impatience and irritability. Just such a scene was presented last night in that political menagerie, for we can give it no better term, the House of Commons. On a motion being made by an honourable gentleman, an uproar took place such as has not been witnessed since the night of the memorable division on the Reform Bill. There was cock-crowing in its highest perfection, the bleat of the calf, the bray of the ass, the hiss of the goose, together with divers supplemental sounds, to which Mr. Cobden did no more than strict and impartial justice, when he described them as being the most extraordinary and inhuman noises' that he had ever heard. Mr. Plumptre proposed 'mutal concessions', whereupon the clamour became more furious than ever; and Mr. Mackenzie, at an early hour in the morning, suddenly found himself, like a true Highlander, in the possession of the 'second sight,' and announced to the Speaker that he saw 'strangers in the house!'—a discovery which might have been made, had the vision been vouchsafed, at least four hours before! On the whole, the scene was one of the most absurd, uproarious, and degrading to the dignity of the house, that ever yet took place in parliament. Surely Sir Robert Peel must by this time be heartily ashamed of his monopolist supporters.'

"When the tempest was at its height, the leaders, Sir R. Peel and Lord J. Russell, left the house; and, thus freed from all restraint, the belligerents became fiercer than ever; the blood of both parties was fairly up; for nearly two hours, declamation roared while reason slept; and during the vociferous display, the voice of the Speaker was little more regarded than a whisper amidst a storm. The minority were aware that the remaining speeches, even if delivered, could not be reported, and for that and other reasons, were in their resolves so resolute, that although outvoted in sundry divisions, the question was just as often re-moved and seconded. At length Mr. Ross told Lord Dunganoon, that if he were contented to sit till eight o'clock, himself, and such as acted with him, would willingly sit till nine; and it was at this stage that Sir Charles Napier slyly suggested that they should divide themselves into three watches, after the fashion of a ship's crew. This arrangement would afford case to all excepting the Speaker, to whom he was sorry he could not afford the slightest relief. Worn out at length by the violence of their exertions, and despairing of victory, the majority yielded."