My Life

My Life - Oswald Mosleyof the classics. His leader, Mr. Asquith, observed later in the debate: 'My honourablefriend has illumined our discussion with an appropriate wealth of classical allusion'.We were thus well conditioned for the impressive occasion when our colleagueintroduced a Private Member's Bill with all the stately ritual of Parliament. Neverbefore or since have I heard any man receive such an ovation in the House ofCommons. He stood at the bar with stiff dignity until the Clerk of the Tableannounced his name and the title of the Bill — Commander Kenworthy, thePrevention of Animals Performing in Public Bill —then advanced down the floor ofthe Chamber, bowing correctly with solemn mien at the regulation intervals until hereached the table and handed in his Bill. The House passed into an ecstasy.As always in life, some are born funny and others mean to be. The Irish fell into thesecond category. Three brilliant members of the Nationalist Party remained: my oldfriend T. P. O'Connor, Father of the House; another good friend, Joe Devlin, one ofthe greatest parliamentary orators I ever heard; and Jerry McVeagh, whose wit waslegendary. Before my day was his famous exploit of talking for a quarter of an houron the Expiring Laws Continuance Bill and being out of order the whole time. Hearrived in the Chamber with a large pile of Hansards from which he appeared to bereading extracts from past debates on this complicated referential legislation, passingrapidly through various topics. Finally came a learned disquisition on the habits of thepeewit in Southern Ireland, which he was really reading from a scientific paperconcealed in Hansard. At last the Speaker—who had sent messengers for a successionof Hansards—rose and said he could find nothing in the Bill or in reference to pastoccasions concerning the habits of the peewit in Southern Ireland. With a glance atthe clock, Jerry McVeagh replied: 'Neither can I, Mr. Speaker, but I've won my bet';and with a most courteous bow to the Chair he left the Chamber, carrying his load ofHansards.It was Jerry McVeagh too who cried 'The prodigal son and the fatted calf as LordWinterton and Sir William Bull approached the table together as tellers in a division.The former was in trouble with the Whips, and the latter carried his success well infront of him. Winterton began as youngest member of the House and ended as itsFather. In his early days he was apparently an obstreperous character, then known asLord Tumour, who succeeded later as Lord Winterton to an Irish peerage whichenabled him to remain in the House of Commons. The parliamentary legend ran thatduring his time as youngest M.P. he was being a nuisance during a speech of SirAlfred Mond, who sharply replied: 'Silence in the nursery'. Winterton in reference tothe well-known fact that the founders of a great British industry were in originGerman Jews, shouted back: 'Silence in the ghetto'. A remark which would today forcomprehensible reasons entail exclusion from public life, passed with cries of 'Order',and the imperturbable Mond continued. Soon came his revenge. At a Speaker'sreception someone was tactless enough to introduce Sir Alfred Mond to LordWinterton. 'Delighted,' purred Mond in his guttural tones as he extended his hand, 'forone dreadful moment I thought you were that ass Tumour.'Mond's speech in debating capitalism versus socialism on a motion proposed bySnowden was one of the finest intellectual performances I have heard in the House ofCommons. He had the advantage of really understanding Marx, almost unique amongthe Conservatives, whom he had then joined. It gave him too a pull in exact thinking179 of 424