_Sketches in

The House_. 

The Story of a Memorable Session. 

By

T. P. O'CONNOR, M. P. 

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NOTE. 

_The Sketches contained in the following pages originally appeared inthe _WEEKLY SUN_, under the title, "At the Bar of the House. " Owing tothe reiterated requests of many readers they are now republished intheir present form. _

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. PAGEOPENING OF A HISTORIC SESSION 9

CHAPTER II. THE HOME RULE BILL 31

CHAPTER III. A SOBER AND SUBDUED OPPOSITION 40

CHAPTER IV. THE PERSONAL ELEMENT 49

CHAPTER V. OBSTRUCTION AND ITS AGENTS 67

CHAPTER VI. GLADSTONE AND THE SURVIVAL 82

CHAPTER VII. A FORTNIGHT OF QUIET WORK 96

CHAPTER VIII. THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM 111

CHAPTER IX. THE END OF A GREAT WEEK 131

CHAPTER X. THE BUDGET, OBSTRUCTION, AND EGYPT 146

CHAPTER XI. THE BILL IN COMMITTEE 164

CHAPTER XII. RENEWAL OF THE FIGHT 178

CHAPTER XIII. THE SEXTON INCIDENT 198

CHAPTER XIV. THE BURSTING OF THE STORM 207

CHAPTER XV. MR. DILLON'S FORGETFULNESS 219

CHAPTER XVI. REDUCED MAJORITIES 229

CHAPTER XVII. THE FIGHT IN THE HOUSE 242

CHAPTER XVIII. IRELAND'S CHARTER THROUGH 254

CHAPTER XIX. HOME RULE IN THE LORDS 269

CHAPTER I. 

OPENING OF A HISTORIC SESSION. 

[Sidenote: Memories. ]

There is always something that depresses, as well as something thatexhilarates, in the first day of a Session of Parliament. In the monthswhich have elapsed, there have been plenty of events to emphasize themutability and the everlasting tragedy of human life. Some men havedied; figures that seemed almost the immortal portion of the life ofParliament have disappeared into night, and their place knows them nomore; others have met the fate, more sinister and melancholy, ofchanging a life of dignity and honour for one of ignominy and shame. 

[Sidenote: The irony of the seats. ]

But no such thought disturbed the cheerful souls of some of the IrishMembers; in the worst of times there is something exuberant in the Celtthat rises superior to circumstance. This was to be an Irish Session;and the great fight of Ireland's future government was to befought--perhaps finally. But there was another circumstance whichdistinguished this Session from its predecessors. The question of seatsis always a burning one in the House of Commons. In an assembly in whichthere is only sitting accommodation for two out of every three members, there are bound to be some awkward questions when feeling runs high anddebates are interesting. But at the beginning of this Session, thingshad got to a worse pass than ever. The Irish Party resolved to remain onthe Opposition side of the House, true to their principle, that untilIreland receives Home Rule, they are in opposition to all and every formof Government from Westminster. The result was the bringing together ofthe strangest of bedfellows in all sections in the House. There is noneso fiercely opposed to Home Rule as the Irish Orangeman. But theOrangemen are a portion of the Opposition as well as the IrishNationalists, with the inconvenient result that there sat cheek by jowlmen who had about as much love for each other's principles as a countryvicar has for a Northampton Freethinker. On the other hand, a deadlierhatred exists between the regular Liberal and the Liberal Unionist thanbetween the ordinary Liberal and the ordinary Tory. But by the irony offate, the action of the Irish Party compelled the Unionists to sit onthe Liberal benches again, with the result that men were ranged side byside, whose hatreds, personal and political, were as deadly as any inthe House. 

[Sidenote: Watchers for the dawn. ]

As a result of all this, there occurred in the House on Tuesday morning, January 31st, a scene unparalleled since the famous day when Mr. Gladstone brought in his Home Rule Bill in 1886. Night was stillfighting the hosts of advancing morn, when a Tory Member--Mr. Seton-Karr--approached the closed doors of the House of Commons, anddemanded admission to a seat. For nearly an hour he was left alone withthe darkness, and the ghosts of dead statesmen and forgotten scenes oforatory, passion, and triumph. But as six o'clock was striking, thereentered the yard around the House two figures--similar inpurpose--different in appearance. Mr. Johnson, of Ballykilbeg, is bythis time one of the familiar types of the House; and, from his evidentsincerity, is, in spite of the terrible and mediæval narrowness of hiscreed, personally popular. Mr. Johnson is an Orangeman of Orangemen. Nowand then he delivers a speech, in which he declares that rather than seeHome Rule in Ireland, he and his friends will line the ditches withriflemen. The Pope disturbs his dreams by night and stalks across hisspeeches by day; and there is a general impression about him that he isresolved, some time or other, to walk through a good large stream ofPapist blood. He is also a violent teetotaller; and is so strong on thispoint that he is ready to shake hands, even with the deadliest Irishopponent, across the back of a Sunday Closing Bill. Like mostParliamentary fire-eaters, he is a mild-mannered man. Time hath dealttenderly with him. But still he is well on to the seventies: his hair, once belligerently red, is thin and streaked with grey; and he walkssomewhat slowly, and not very vigorously. Dr. Rentoul is a man of adifferent type. What Johnson feels, Rentoul affects. He is a tall, common-looking, heavily-built, blustering kind of fellow; great, it issaid, on the abusive Tory platform, almost dumb and utterly impotent inthe House of Commons. These were the vanguard of the Orange army, andthey proceeded to appropriate the first and best seats they could laytheir hands upon. 

[Sidenote: Dr. Tanner and his waistcoat. ]

Dr. Tanner, soon after this, appeared blazing on the scene; and sorrowcame upon him that any of the enemy should have forestalled him. LikeMr. Johnson, Tanner is a Protestant--but, unlike him, is as fiercelyNationalist as the other is Orange; and, whenever the waves aredisturbed by the Parliamentary storm, Tanner is pretty sure to be heardof and from. Viewing the scene of battle strategically, Tanner struck onan idea which was certainly original. Accounts differ as to whether hewas the possessor of one hat or several; but tradition would suggestthat he had more than one. It is certain, however, that he did take offhis coat and waistcoat; and stretching these across the unclaimed landof seats, did thereby signify to all mankind that the seats thusdecorated were his. But the novel form of appropriation--it suggests awrinkle to prospectors in mining countries--was held to be illegal; andthe poor doctor had to content himself with using the hat, or hats, as ameans of securing seats. 

[Sidenote: Colonel Saunderson. ]

Colonel Saunderson--another of the Orange army of fire-eaters--was earlyat the trysting-place; and this brought about one of the curiosities ofthe sitting. On the first seat below the gangway sat Dr. Tanner; on thevery next seat, as close to him as one sardine to another in a box, satColonel Saunderson. Not for worlds would these two men exchange asyllable; indeed, it was a relief to most people to find that they didnot break out into oaths and blows. What rendered the situation worse, was that Dr. Tanner has a fine exuberant habit of expressing hisopinions for the benefit of all around him. At his back sat WilliamO'Brien, with his keen thin face, his eyes full of latent fire, hisstern, set jaw--his glasses suggesting the student and philosopher, whois always the most perilous and fierce of politicians; and to WilliamO'Brien, Tanner made a running and biting commentary on the speeches--acommentary, as can easily be guessed, from the extreme National point ofview. This was the music to which the Orange Colonel had to listenthrough the long hours that stretched between his early morning arrivaland midnight. How men will consent to go through all this travail is, toeasy-going people, one of the curiosities of political struggle. 

[Sidenote: The Chamberlain Party. ]

Meantime, there had been another and an equally important descent. Mr. Chamberlain made his son the Whip of the Unionist Party. The resemblancebetween father and son is something even closer than that usuallynoticed between relatives. The son looks a good deal more gentlemanlythan the father. But the single eyeglass--which no man can wear withoutlooking more or less of a snob--is even less becoming to the youthfulAusten than to the parent; and gives him even a coarser air. There is asuspicion that young Chamberlain also came to the House armed with agoodly supply of hats; at all events, he and his friends managed tosecure a large number of seats for the Unionists. Chamberlain and hisfriends sat together on the third bench below the gangway--a position of'vantage in some respects--from which they could survey the House. Thefirst seat was occupied by Mr. Chamberlain; next him was Sir HenryJames, and then came Mr. Courtney, in a snuff-coloured coat and drabwaistcoat; for all the world like an old-fashioned squire who has notyet learned to accommodate himself to the sombre garments of anunpicturesque age. The dutiful Austen left himself without a seat, andwas content to kneel in the gangway, and there take sweet counsel fromhis parent. 

[Sidenote: Enter the G. O. M. ]

Mr. Gladstone, as everybody knows, was not technically a member of theHouse of Commons when it met at the beginning of the Session. He had tobe sworn, and the first business of the House was to witness thisceremony. I remember the first day I was a member of the House, and sawa similar spectacle--it was in 1880. Then the House was crowded, andthere was a tremendous demonstration; but on the opening day of theSession just ended, the ceremony came off a little earlier than had beenexpected, and the House was not as full as one would have anticipated. Then there was a great deal of work to be done; every section of theHouse was busy with the attempt to get an opportunity of bringing inBills. The Irishmen are always to the front on these occasions, with thelist of a dozen Bills, which they seek to bring forward onWednesdays--the day that is still sacred to the private member anxiousto legislate. The Welsh members have now taken up the same lesson; theLondon members are likewise on the alert. Now, in order to get a chanceof bringing in a Bill, it is necessary to ballot--then it is first come, first served. To get your chance in the ballot, you must put your namedown on what is called the notice paper, where a number is placedopposite your name. The clerks put into the balloting-box as manynumbers as there are names on the notice paper--they approached 400 onthe day in question--and then the number is drawn out, and the Speakercalls upon the member whose number has proved to be the lucky one. Awhole crowd of members were standing waiting their turn to do this thevery moment when the Old Man walked up the floor of the House to takethe oaths, and there was a great deal of noise and confusion; but hisadvent was noted instinctively and rapidly, and there was a mighty cheerof welcome. 

[Sidenote: How he looked. ]

Mr. Gladstone walks down to the House, unless on great occasions. Thenthere would be an obvious danger, from the enthusiasm of his admirers, if he were on foot. Whenever there is any chance of a demonstration, accordingly, he comes down in an open carriage, with Mrs. Gladstone athis side. On that 31st of January, the enthusiastic love of which he wasthe object, had several times overflowed; it had brought a huge crowd toDowning Street, and it had dogged the footsteps of the Prime Ministerwherever he was seen. With bare head--with eyes glistening--with a cheekwhose wax-like pallor was touched with an unusual gleam of colour--theGrand Old Man came down to his greatest Session, amid a thicket ofloving faces and cheering throats. I fancy one of Mrs. Gladstone'sheaviest tasks is to look after the clothes of her illustrious husband. He manages to make them all awry whenever he gets the chance. He may beseen at the beginning of an evening with a neat black tie just in itsproper place; and towards the end of the evening the same tie is awayunder his jugular--as though he were trying experiments in the art ofexpeditiously hanging a man. But on these great occasions he is alwaysso dressed as to bring out in full relief all the strange and variedbeauty of his splendid face and figure. For nature--in the richness andabundance of her endowment of this portentous personage--has made himnot only the greatest man in the House of Commons, but also thehandsomest. He was dressed in the solemn black frock coat which healways wears on great occasions, and in his buttonhole there was abeautiful little boutonnière of white roses and lilies of the valley. The waxen pallor was still relieved by the glow caused by hisenthusiastic reception from the people, as, with his son Herbert on theone side and Mr. Marjoribanks, the chief Liberal whip, on the other, hewalked up the floor of the House. 

[Sidenote: The new Ministry. ]

One after another, the new Ministers followed--their receptions varyingwith their popularity--and at last they were all seated on the TreasuryBench. In their looks there was ample indication of the intellectualsupremacy which had raised them to that exalted position. Mr. Gladstonehad Sir William Harcourt--his Chancellor of the Exchequer--on his right, and on his left sat Mr. John Morley, with his thin face and smile, halfascetic, half kindly. Then came the newest man of the Government, thatfortunate youth to whom power and recognition have come, not in witheredor soured old age, but in the full prime of his manhood. Mr. Asquithtakes his seat next Mr. Morley; and it is, perhaps, the close proximitywhich suggests the strong physical likeness between the two. Both areclean shaven; both have the long narrow profile that is calledhatchet-faced; in both there is the compression of lips that revealsdepths of strength and tenacity; both have the slightly ascetic air ofthe philosopher turned politician; both look singularly young, not onlyfor their years, but for the dazzling eminence of their positions. 

[Sidenote: Other groups. ]

Meantime, there are other groups in the House that are graduallyforming, and that have since played a momentous part in this greatSession. Mr. Labouchere sits in his old place below the gangway--a seatwhich has become his almost by right of usage, but which he has tosecure still every day, by that regular attendance at prayers which isso sweet to a devout soul. Next him sits Mr. Philipps--one of theyounger generation of Radicals; and then comes Sir Charles Dilke--verycarefully dressed, looking wonderfully well--rosy-cheeked, andaltogether a younger-looking and gayer-spirited man than the haggard andpale figure which used to sit on the Treasury Bench in the days of hisglory. John Burns is up among the Irish and the Tories, in visibleopposition to all Governments. There is something breezy about JohnBurns that does one good to look at. He wears a short coat--generally ofa thick blue material, that always brings to one's mental eye theflowing sea and the mounting wave. A stout-limbed, lion-heartedskipper--that's what John Burns looks like. There is plenty of fire inthe deep, dark, large eyes, and of tenderness as well; and all thatcurious mixture of rage and tears that makes up the stern defender ofthe hopeless and the forlorn and weak. On the opposite side, in theLiberal ranks, sits Sam Woods--the miners' agent, who was sent from theInce Division of Lancashire instead of an aristocrat of ancient race;also a remarkable man, with the somewhat pallid face of the life-longteetotaller, and eyes that have the mingled expression of wrath and pitycommon among the leaders of forlorn hopes and new crusades. Mr. Wilson, the member for Middlesbrough, is restless, and moves about a good deal. He has resolved to bring in a Bill to improve the wretched condition of"Poor Jack, " in whose company he spent many years of his own hard life;and there is a gleam of triumph as an Irish member, in accordance with aprevious arrangement, gives notice of a Bill for that purpose when thehazard of the ballot gives opportunity. 

[Sidenote: Mover and Seconder. ]

It is an honourable but a painful distinction to have either to move orto second the reply to the Speech from the Throne. One of the sillysurvivals of a feudal past still obliges men who have to perform thisduty to make perfect guys of themselves, by wearing some outlandishuniform. Even the sturdiest Radical has to submit to this process;though I hope when John Burns comes to figure in that honourableposition he will insist on retaining his breezy pea-jacket and hisbillycock hat. It was very late in the evening when Mr. Lambert--thevictor in the great South Molton fight--had the opportunity of rising;and it was even still later when Mr. Beaufoy rose. I must pass overtheir speeches by saying that both speakers did extremely well. Even Mr. Balfour had to compliment them; and the Old Man almost went out of hisway to express his gratification. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Balfour. ]

It was everywhere remarked that most of the leaders of parties began theSession in excellent fighting trim. Mr. Morley has been living in thepleasant green meadows and fields of the Phoenix Park, and looks fiveyears younger than he did last year. The Old Man astounded everybody byhis briskness; and Mr. Balfour also entered on the fray with every signof being in excellent health and spirits. There had been a great roar oftriumph when he came into the House, and throughout his speech--clever, biting, and adroit--his party kept up a ringing and well-organizedchorus of pointed cheers. The speech was a significant departure fromthe ordinary stamp--a fact which Mr. Gladstone, who is notably a greatstickler for tradition, did not fail to notice. For the almost unbrokentradition of the House of Commons is that the first night shall be oneof almost loving-kindness between the one side and the other. I rememberwell _Punch_ indicated this once by representing Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Disraeli beginning a Session by presenting each other with roses, whilebehind their backs was a thick bundle of whips. 

[Sidenote: The fray opens. ]

But Mr. Balfour is independent of tradition, and demonstrated it at oncewith a speech almost vehement, in part, in its attack. He had a wholehost of flings at Mr. Justice Mathew and the Evicted Tenants'Commission--his hits, though sufficiently obvious, and almost cheap, being rapturously received. Altogether, it must be said the Oppositionwere in excellent form, and cheered their man with a lustiness whichdid them infinite credit. The Liberals, on the other hand, with forcessomewhat scattered--the round Irish chorus being especially so, in theremote distance--did not seem equally well-organized from the point ofview of the _claque_. With the dynamite prisoners Mr. Balfour dealt sogingerly that it was evident he knew the weakness of the Tory case, andwas very apprehensive that Mr. Matthews would be found to have sold thepass. The ex-Home Secretary, meantime, was still disporting himselfaround the Red Sea or in the Straits of Bab-el-mandeb; and Mr. Balfour, who has notoriously a bad memory, was left groping in the cobwebs of hisbrain, trying to recollect which of the dynamitards it was Mr. Matthewsintended to retain and which to release. Attacking the action of Mr. Morley with regard to the liberation of the Gweedore prisoners, Mr. Balfour brought upon himself a series of sharp interruptions from Mr. Morley; and there was some very pretty play, Mr. Balfour retorting nowand then with considerable skill and readiness. Altogether it was anexcellent fighting speech, and a good beginning. There were, in additionto what I have mentioned, plenty of shots about the foreign policy ofthe Government, especially in Uganda and Egypt; and it is needless tosay that Mr. Balfour accused his successors of swallowing in office allthe principles they had professed in Opposition. 

[Sidenote: The Old Man rises. ]

Mr. Gladstone had to stand silent for a few minutes in face of thethunderous welcome which he received from the Irish benches. Though thereception was gratifying, he seemed to be impatiently awaiting itstermination, for he was full of vigour and eagerness for the attack, andnever in his most youthful hours did he display a greater readiness tomeet all assaults half-way. Those who are accustomed to the Old Man arein the habit of noting a few premonitory signs which will always prettywell forecast the kind of speech he will make. If he starts up flurriedand excited, it is ten chances to one that the speech will not remainvigorous to the end; that there will be a break of voice and a weakeningof strength, and that the close will not be equal to the opening. Butwhen the voice is cold--though full of a deep underswell at the momentof starting--when Mr. Gladstone moves his body with the easy grace ofperfect self-mastery, then the House is going to have an oratoricaltreat. So it was in this initial speech. There was just a touch ofhoarseness in the voice, but it had a fine roll, the roll of the wave ona pebbly beach in an autumn evening; and he carried himself so finelyand so flauntingly that there was no apprehension of anything like aloss or a waste of strength. 

[Sidenote: A pounce. ]

At once he pounced on a passage in the speech of Mr. Balfour, who hadmade the statement that such a policy as Home Rule had always led to thedisintegration and destruction of empires. He rolled out the case ofAustria, which had been preserved from ruin by Home Rule; and when therewas a sniff from the Tory benches, Mr. Gladstone, in tones of thunder, referred to the speech of Lord Salisbury in 1885, when he was anglingfor the Irish vote, and when he pointed to Austria as perhaps supplyingsome indication of the method of settling the Irish question. This wasgood old party warfare; the Liberals cheered in delight, and the oldwarrior glowed with all his old fire. There was a softer and moresubdued tone when the Prime Minister referred to Foreign Affairs, speaking of these things with the slowness and the gravity which suchticklish subjects demand. But again Mr. Gladstone was in all the fullblast of oratorical vehemence when he took up the attack that had beenmade on the Irish policy of Mr. Morley. Now and then prompted by thatgentleman, and with an occasional word from Mr. Asquith, the Old Mangave figure after figure to show that Ireland has vastly improved sincecoercion had been dropped as a policy. Altogether it was a splendidfighting speech, and dissipated in a few moments all prophecies of gloomand forebodings of dark disaster which have been prevalent for so manyweeks with regard to the health of the old leader. Thus in fire and furybegan the Session, the leaders on both sides fully equal to theirreputation and at their best, and all the dark and slumbering forcesthat lie behind them as yet an undiscovered country of grim and strangepossibilities. 

[Sidenote: Lord Randolph. ]

But the solid and united ranks of the Tories were broken by one figurethat was once the most potent among them all. I had been strangely movedat a theatre, a week or so before, as I looked at Lord RandolphChurchill. I remembered him twelve years ago--a mere boy in appearance, with clean-shaven face, dapper and slight figure, the alertness andgrace of youth, and a face smooth as the cheek of a maiden. Andnow--bearded, slightly bowed, with lines deep as the wrinkles of anoctogenarian, he sometimes looks like the grandfather of his youthfulself. It is in the deep-set, brilliant eyes that you still see all thefire of his extraordinary political genius, and the embers, that mayquickly burst into flame, of all the passion and force of a violentlystrong character. For the moment he sits silent and expectant. He haseven refused to take his rightful place among the leaders of the partyon the Front Opposition Bench. Still he sits in the corner immediatelybehind, which is the spectral throne of exiled rulers. He has the powerof all strong natures of creating around him an atmosphere ofuncertainty, apprehension, and fear. Of all the many problems of thisSession of probably fierce personal conflict, this was the mostunreadable sphinx. 

[Sidenote: Reaction. ]

There came upon the House at the beginning of the following week adeadly calm, very much in contrast with the storm and stress of itspredecessor. It is ever thus in the House of Commons. You can never tellhow things are going to turn out, except to this extent--that passioninevitably exhausts itself; and that accordingly, when there has been agood deal of fire and fury one day, or for a few days, there is certainto come a great and deadly calm. Uganda is not a subject that excitesanybody but Mr. Labouchere and Mr. Burdett-Coutts; and even on them ithas a disastrous effect. Mr. Burdett-Coutts is always dull; but Ugandamakes him duller than ever. Labby is usually brilliant; while hediscoursed on Uganda he actually made people think Mr. Gladstone oughtto have made him a Cabinet Minister--he displayed such undiscovered andunsuspected powers of respectable dulness. 

[Sidenote: Still the seats. ]

Nevertheless, there was still room for excitement and drollery in theperennial question of the seats. Mr. Chamberlain is not a man to whompeople are inclined to make concessions; he is so little inclined togive up anything himself; and, accordingly, there arose a very seriousquestion as to the first seat on the third bench below the Gangway, which he had taken all defiantly for his own. He counted without one ofthe oldest and most respected, but also one of the firmest, men in theHouse. Mr. T. B. --or, as everybody calls him, Tom Potter--sits forRochdale; he was the life-long friend, and for years he has been thepolitical successor of Cobden in the representation of Rochdale, and heis likewise the founder and the President of the Cobden Club. Every manhas his weakness, and the weakness of Mr. Potter is to always occupy thefirst seat on the third bench above the Gangway. Everyone loves thegood, kindly old man, the survivor of some of the fiercest conflicts ofour time, and everybody is willing to give way to him. When the Liberalswere in Opposition, there was a general desire among the Irish membersto take possession of the third seat above the Gangway; and the firstseat has enormous advantages--tactically--for anyone anxious to catchthe Speaker's eye. But whenever the sturdy form of the member forRochdale appeared, the fiercest of the Irishry were ready to give way;and from his coign of vantage, he beamed blissfully down on the House ofCommons. 

[Sidenote: Strong, but Merciful. ]

Mr. Chamberlain had the boldness to challenge what hitherto had remainedunchallenged; and Mr. Potter's wrath was aroused. He is not one of thosepeople who require the spiritual sustenance of the Chaplain's dailyprayers; and, accordingly, it was an effort to get down at threeo'clock, when that ceremony begins; but his wrath upheld him; and thusit was that on a certain night, the thin form and sharp nose of Mr. Chamberlain peered out on the House from behind the massive form of theMember for Rochdale. It looked as if the unhappy Member for WestBirmingham had undergone a sort of transformation, and had, like Mr. Anstey's hero in "Vice Versa, " gone back to the tiny form and slightface of his boyhood. Mr. Potter, however, is merciful, and havingasserted his rights, he surrendered them again gracefully to Mr. Chamberlain; and the perky countenance of the gentleman from Birminghamonce more looked down from the heights of the third bench. It would takeMr. Chamberlain a long time to do so graceful an act to anybody else. 

[Sidenote: "Ugander. "]

But on the Monday night nobody need have been very particular as to whatseat he occupied; for nothing could have been much more dull than thewhole proceedings. I make only one or two observations upon Uganda. Andfirst, why is it that so few members of the House of Commons canpronounce that word correctly? Mr. Chamberlain, --if there be anythingilliterate to be done, he is always prominent in doing it--Mr. Chamberlain never mentions the word without pronouncing it "Ugand_er_. "Mr. Courtney for a long while did not venture on the word; and thereinhe acted with prudence. It is a curious fact with regard to Mr. Courtneythat when he first came into the House he had a terrible difficulty withhis "h's. " In his case it was not want of culture, for he was aUniversity man, and one of the most accomplished and widely-read men inthe House of Commons. But still there it was; he was weak on his "h's. "He has, however, by this time overcome the defect. Mr. Labouchere talksclassic English; was at a German university; has been in every part ofthe world; has written miles of French memorandums; has sung serenadesin Italian; and, if he were not so confoundedly lazy, would probablyspeak more languages than any man in Parliament. But yet he cannotpronounce either a final "g" or allow a word to end in a vowel withoutadding the ignoble, superfluous, and utterly brutal "er. " When he wishesto confound Mr. Gladstone, he assaults about "Ugand_er_"; when theconcerns of our great Eastern dependency move him to interest, he asksabout "Indi_er_"; and he speaks of the primordial accomplishments of manas "readin'" and "writin'. "

[Sidenote: Sir Edward Grey. ]

Ugand_er_ gave Sir Edward Grey his first opportunity of speaking in hisnew capacity of Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs. There are some menin the House of Commons whose profession is written in the legiblelanguage of nature on every line of their faces. You could never, looking at Mr. Haldane, for instance, be in doubt that he was an Equitybarrister, with a leaning towards the study of German philosophy and ahuman kindliness, dominated by a reflective system of economics. Mr. Carson--the late Solicitor-General for Ireland, and Mr. Balfour's chiefchampion in the Coercion Courts--with a long hatchet face, a sallowcomplexion, high cheek-bones, cavernous cheeks and eyes--is the livingtype of the sleuth-hound whose pursuit of the enemy of a ForeignGovernment makes the dock the antechamber to the prison or the gallows. Sir Edward Grey, with his thin face, prominent Roman nose, extraordinarily calm expression, and pleasant, almost beautiful, voice, shows that the blood of legislators flows in his veins; he might standfor the highest type of the young English official. He has not spokenoften in the House of Commons--not often enough; but he is known on theplatform and at the Eighty Club. He has the perfect Parliamentary style, with its virtues and defects, just as another young member of theHouse--Mr. E. J. C. Morton--has the perfect platform manner, also with_its_ virtues and defects. Sir Edward Grey speaks with grace, ease, withthat tendency to modest understatement, to the icy coldness of genteelconversation, which everybody will recognize as the House of Commonsstyle. This means perfect correctness, especially in an officialposition; but, on the other hand, it lacks warmth. It is only Mr. Gladstone, perhaps, among the members of the House of Commons--old ornew--who has power of being at once, easy, calm, perfect in tone, andfull of the inspiring glow of oratory. 

[Sidenote: Pity the poor farmer. ]

The agriculturists are not very happy in their representatives. A debateon agriculture produces on the House the same effect as a debate on theArmy. It is well known that the party of all the Colonels is enough tomake any House empty; and a debate on agriculture is not much better. The farmer's friends are always a dreadfully dull lot; and they usuallylag some half-century behind the political knowledge of the rest of theworld. It would have been impossible for anybody but the county membersto attempt a serious discussion on Protection or Bimetallism as curesfor all the evils of the flesh; but that is what the agriculturalmembers succeeded in doing on a certain Monday and Tuesday night. Theirprosings were perhaps welcome to the House; but it was a curious thingto see an assembly, as yet in its very infancy, so bored as to findrefuge in every part of the building, except the hall appropriated toits deliberations. Mr. Chaplin is always to the front on such occasions;pompous, prolix, and ineffably dull. Mr. Herbert Gardner made his débutas the Minister for Agriculture, and did it excellently. 

[Sidenote: Keir-Hardie. ]

Mr. Keir-Hardie is certainly one of the most curious forms which haveyet appeared on the Parliamentary horizon. He wears a small cap--such asyou see on men when they are travelling; a short sack coat; a pair oftrousers of a somewhat wild and pronounced whiteish hue; and his beardis unkempt and almost conceals his entire face. The eyes are deep-set, restless, grey--with strange lights as of fanaticism, or dreams. Herather pleasantly surprised the House by his style of speech. Somethingwild in a harsh shriek was what was looked for; but the wildest ofScotchmen has the redeeming sense and canniness of his race--alwaysexcepting Mr. Cunninghame Graham, whose Scotch blood was infused with alarge mixture of the wild tribe of an Arab ancestress; and Mr. Keir-Hardie--speaking a good deal like Mr. T. W. Russell--made a foolishproposal in a somewhat rational speech. But he was unlucky in hisbackers. The Liberal benches sate--dumb though attentive, and notunamiable. Mr. Gladstone gazed upon the new Parliamentary phenomenonwith interest, but the only voices that broke the silence of thereception were the strident tones of Mr. Howard Vincent, of Sheffield, and Mr. Johnston, of Ballykilbeg. Now Howard Vincent is known to all menas one of the people who speak in season and out of season, when oncethey mount their hobby. The other day I heard of a bimetallist who wasso fond of discussing bimetallism that the railway carriage, in which hewent to town every morning, was always left vacant for him; nobody couldstand him any longer. Similar is the attitude of the House of Commons toHoward Vincent. Fair Trade is his craze. He proposes it at ToryConferences--much to the dismay of Tory wire-pullers; he gets it intothe most unlikely discussions in the House of Commons; and all the worldlaughs at him as though he were to propose the restoration of slavery, or chaos come again. Poor Mr. Johnston only cares about the Pope, andcheers Mr. Hardie simply as a possible obstruction to Mr. Gladstone. Ill-omened welcomes these for a friend of Labour. 

[Sidenote: Sir John Gorst. ]

Sir John Gorst occupies a curious position in his own party. He is oneof their very ablest debaters; always speaks forcibly and to the point;rarely makes a mistake; and has a wonderfully good eye for the weakpoints in the armoury of his opponents. He was the really strong man inthe old Fourth Party combination; but somehow or other he does not geton with his friends, and has been left without Cabinet office at a timewhen many inferior men have been able to get ahead of him. He has acold, cynical manner; suggests usually the clever lawyer rather than thesympathetic politician; and altogether seems at odds with the world andwith himself. He made a bold bid, however, for labour legislation;placed himself in a different position from the rest of his colleagues;and altogether made one of those speeches which are listened to inamused curiosity by political opponents, and in ominous silence and withdowncast looks by political friends. Mr. Balfour's face was a study; butit was a study in the impassibility which politicians cultivate whenthey desire to conceal their hatred of a political friend. It is on thesame side of the House that the really violent and merciless animositiesof the Parliamentary life prevail. I should think that Sir John Gorst isthe object of about as bitter a hatred among his own gang as any man inthe House. 

[Sidenote: Mr. George Wyndham. ]

In the happily-ended coercion days, letters constantly appeared in thenewspapers, signed "George Wyndham. " A certain flippancy and cynicism oftone, joined to a skilful though school-boyish delight in dialectics, suggested that though the name was George Wyndham, the writer was aneminent chief. When at last Mr. George Wyndham made his appearance inthe House and delivered himself of his maiden speech, Mr. Campbell-Bannerman--one of the wittiest men in the House, though youwould take him for a very serious Scotchman without a joke in him, atfirst sight--expressed his satisfaction to find that there was such aperson as Mr. Wyndham, as he had been inclined to rank him with Mrs. 'Arris and other mythical personages of whom history speaks. Mr. Wyndhamis a tall, handsome, slight fellow--with an immense head of black hair, regular features, hatchet but well-shaped face, and a fine nose, Romanin size, Norman in aquilinity and haughtiness. He is a smart ratherthan a clever man, but has plenty of vanity, ambition, and industry, andmay go far. 

[Sidenote: Who said "Rats"?]

Mr. Jesse Collings has changed from a respectable Radical, with goodintentions and excellent sentiments, into a carping, venomous, wrong-headed hater of Mr. Gladstone and all the proposals which comefrom a Liberal Government. On the 8th of February, he gave an extremelyugly specimen of his malignant temper, by complaining that there was nocare for the agricultural labourer on the part of a Government which hasundertaken the largest scheme of agricultural reform ever presented to aHouse of Commons. This had the effect of rousing the Old Man to one ofthose devastating bits of scornful and quiet invective by which hesometimes delights the House of Commons. Jesse had spoken of theproposals of the Queen's Speech as a ridiculous mouse, and thereuponcame the dread retort that mice were not the only "rodents" thatinfested ancient buildings; the words derived additional significancefrom the fact that, as he used them, the Prime Minister directed onJesse those luminous, large, searching eyes of his, with all theirinfinite capacity for expressing passion, scorn, contempt, and disgust. The House was not slow to catch the significance of the phrase, andjumped at it, and yelled delightedly until the roof rang again. 

[Sidenote: A tumble for Joe. ]

This naturally called Joe, pliant creature, to the rescue of his belovedfriend. That, however, was far from a lucky week with Joe; he had begunto look positively hang-dog, with baffled hate. He attempted to stem thesplendid tide of enthusiasm on which the Grand Old Leader was swimmingtriumphantly, by stating that at one time Mr. Gladstone had separatedhimself from Mr. Collings's proposals for the reform of the position ofthe agricultural labourers. When anybody makes a quotation against Mr. Gladstone, the latter gentleman has a most awkward habit of asking forthe date, the authority, and such like posers to men of slatternlymemory, and doubtful accuracy. I have heard several of the wonderful OldMan's private secretaries declare that they had never been able to getover the dread with which this uncanny power of remembering everythinginspired them--it was awe-inspiring, and produced a perpetual feeling ofnervousness--as though they were in the presence of some extraordinaryand incomprehensible great force of nature. It is rather unfortunate forJoe that nature did not endow him with any bump of veneration, and thathe is thus ready to embark on hazardous enterprises, in which he oftenscomes to grief. When he made this quotation against Mr. Gladstone, theOld Man at once pounced on him with a demand for the date and theauthority. Joe was nonplussed, but he stuck to his point. 

But on the following day Mr. Gladstone got up and in the blandest mannerdeclared that he had since looked into the speech to which Mr. Chamberlain had alluded, and he found that what he had really said was, that Mr. Collings had been supposed to have advocated "three acres and acow" as a policy, and to that policy Mr. Gladstone had declared he hadnever given his adherence. This was turning the tables with a vengeance. Jesse grinned and Joe frowned--the rest of the House was delighted. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Asquith. ]

The Home Secretary delivered a speech, which in one bound carried him tothe front rank of Ministerial speakers. It was a triumph from beginningto end: in voice, in delivery, in language--above all, in revelation ofcharacter, it was an intoxication and a delight to the House of Commons. He swept over the emotions of that assembly like a splendid piece ofmusic, and there was no room, or time, for reflection. 

But there was an aftermath, and then it began to be hinted that it wasthe speech of an orator and an advocate rather than of a Minister, andthat it was unnecessarily and unwisely harsh in tone; it uttered "no"and a "never"--which are the tombs of so many Ministerial declarations. The occasion was the motion of Mr. Redmond in reference to the releaseof the dynamitards. Mr. McCarthy, though he strongly disapproved of themotion, was forced to express regret that Mr. Asquith had closed theprison doors with a "bang;" and one or two of the supporters and friendsof Mr. Asquith were also compelled to express their dissent, and to votein the lobby against him. But undoubtedly that speech has immenselyincreased Mr. Asquith's reputation and strengthens his position. He isone of the strong and great men of the immediate future. 

[Sidenote: Obstruction, naked and unashamed. ]

When the debate on amnesty was concluded, there came a climax to thatsystem of obstruction in which the Tories and the Unionists indulgedduring the first fortnight; and there was indication of the growingexasperation of the Ministerial and the Irish members. Midnight hadstruck; and Mr. Balfour, on the part of the Tories, had the face todeclare that it was impossible, at such a late hour, to do justice tothe next amendment. As the next amendment dealt with the Gweedoreprisoners, and as the House has heard of little else but the Gweedoreprisoners for the last fortnight, the majority received thisannouncement with a fierce outburst of impatience, the Irish Benchespecially being delighted at the opportunity of paying back to Mr. Balfour some of the insults he had poured on them so freely during hissix years of power. Meantime, the Liberal temper had been roused tostill more feverish heat by the splendid news from Halifax, followed bythe even more unexpectedly good tidings from Walsall; and there was adetermination to stand no nonsense. But Obstruction was determined to goon, and when it was two o'clock in the morning Sir William Harcourtdeclared that he would not persevere further. There arose a fierce shoutof disappointment from his supporters and from the Irishry; but SirWilliam beamed pleasantly, and the majority submitted to the tyranny ofthe minority. And thus debating impracticable proposals, barelylistening to long speeches, doing absolutely nothing, the dayssucceeded each other; and legislators who wanted work, longed for thesteady and mechanical regularity of their well-ordered offices, theirvast factories, their sanely-conducted communications with all parts ofthe world, to which English genius, sense, and industry have brought thegoods of England. The contrast between the Englishman at business and atpolitics is exasperating, woeful, tragic. 

CHAPTER II. 

THE HOME RULE BILL. 

[Sidenote: I remember. ]

When I saw Mr. Gladstone take his seat in the House of Commons onFebruary 13th, I was irresistibly reminded of two scenes in my memory. One took place in Cork some twelve years ago. Mr. Parnell had made hisentry into the city, and the occasion was one of a triumph such as anEmperor might have envied. The streets were impassable with crowds;every window had its full contingent; the people had got on the roofs. It almost seemed, as one of Mr. Parnell's friends and supportersdeclared, as if every brick were a human face. Men shouted themselveshoarse; young women waved their handkerchiefs till their arms must haveached; old women rushed down before the horses of the great Leader'scarriage, and kissed the dust over which he passed. And, then, when itwas all over, Mr. Parnell had to sit in a small room, listening to thecomplaints and most inconvenient cross-questionings of an extremelypragmatical supporter, who would have been an affliction to any man fromthe intensity and tenacity of his powers of boring. As I looked at poorParnell, with that deprecatory smile of his which so often lit up theflint-like hardness, the terrible resolution of his face--as varied inits lights and shadows as a lake under an April sky--I thought of thecontrast there was between the small annoyances, the squalid cares ofeven the greatest leaders of men and the brave outward show of theirreception by the masses. And the other scene of which I thought, was theappearance of Mr. Irving on a first night in some big play, say, like"Lear. " All the public know is that the actor is there, on the stage, topronounce his kingly speech; but, before he has got there, Mr. Irving, perhaps, has had the sleepless nights which are required in thinking outthe smallest details of his business; perchance, the second before helooks down on that wild pit, and up at that huge gallery, which areready either to acclaim or devour him, he has been in the midst of afurious dispute about the price of tallow candles, or the delinquenciesof the property-master. 

[Sidenote: Tired eyelids upon tired eyes. ]

So I thought, as I looked on Mr. Gladstone. For there was that in hisface to suggest sleepless vigils, hard-fought fights--perhaps, small andirritating worries. Before that great moment, there had beenconsultations, negotiations, Cabinet Councils--perchance, long and noteasy discussion of details, settlement of differences, composure of allthose personal frictions and collisions which are inevitable in thetreadmill of political life. Yes; it was the case of the actor-managerwith the thousand and one details of outside work to attend to, as wellas the great and swelling piece of magnificent work for which the greatoutside world alone cared--of which it alone knew. To anybody who knowspolitics from the inside comes ever some such haunting thought about thesplendour and glory of popular receptions and public appearances. I mustconfess that I could not get rid of that impression when I looked on Mr. Gladstone on that Monday night. A deadlier pallor than usual had settledon that face which always has all the beautiful shade, as well as thefine texture of smooth ivory. There was a drawn, wearied look about theusually large, open, brilliant eyes--that rapt and far-off gaze which isalways Mr. Gladstone's expression when his mind and heart are full. There are two kinds of excitement and excitability. The man who burstsinto laughter, or shouts, or tears, suffers less from his overstrainednerves than he whose face is placid while within are mingled all therage, and terror, and tumult of great thoughts, and passions, and hopes. It struck me that Mr. Gladstone was the victim of suppressed excitementand overstrained nerves, and that it was only the splendid masculinewill, the great strength of his fine physique, which kept him up sowell. 

[Sidenote: The sudden awakening. ]

Pallid, heavy-eyed, in a far-off dream--with all the world gazing uponhim with painful concentration of attention and fixed stare--the GreatOld Man sate, keeper still of the greatest and most momentous secret ofhis time, and about to make an appearance more historic, far-reaching, immortal, than any yet in his career. So, doubtless, he would have likedto remain for a long time still; but, with a start, he woke up, put hishands to his ear, as is his wont in these latter days when his hearingis not what it used to be, looked to the Speaker, and then to Mr. JohnMorley, and found that, all at once, without one moment's preparation, he had been called upon by the Speaker to enter on his great andperilous task. What had happened was this: The Irish members had put anumber of questions on the notice-paper, but, anxious in every way tospare the Old Man, they quietly left the questions unasked; and so, when, as he thought, there was still a whole lot of preliminary businessto go through, all was over, and the way was quite clear for his start. "The First Lord of the Treasury;" so spoke the Speaker--almostsoftly--and, in a moment, when he had realized what had taken place, theOld Man was upright, and the Liberal and Irish members were on theirfeet, waving their hats, cheering themselves hoarse. And yet anundercurrent and audible note of anxiety ran through all the enthusiasm. The honeymoon of Home Rule is over, and, curiously enough, the verysense of a great victory after a long struggle has always about it asolemnity too sad for tears, too deep for joy. The Liberals and theIrishry stood up; but, even at that hour, there were evidences of thefissures and chasms which the two great political disruptions-thedisruption in the English Liberal and in the Irish party--have produced. On the third bench below the Gangway sate the Liberal Unionists, Mr. Gladstone's deadliest foes, with pallid-faced, perky-nosed, malignantChamberlain at their head, the face distorted by the baffled hate, theaccumulated venom of all these years of failure, apostasy, and outlawry. Not one of the renegade Liberals stood up, and there they sate, a solidmass of hatred and rancour. On the Irish side, Mr. Redmond and the fewParnellites kept up the tradition of their dead leader in his last yearsof distrust and dislike of Mr. Gladstone by also remaining seated. 

[Sidenote: The speech. ]

The first notes of the Old Man suggested he was in excellent form. It isalways easy for those who are well acquainted with him to know when theOld Man is going to make a great, and when he will deliver only amoderately good speech. If he is going to do splendidly the tone at thestart is very calm, the delivery is measured, the sentences are long, and break on the ear with something of the long-drawn-out slowness ofthe Alexandrine. So it was on this occasion. Sentence followed sentencein measured and perfect cadence; with absolute self-possession; and in avoice not unduly pitched. And yet there were those traces of fatigue towhich I have alluded, and I have since heard that one of the fewoccasions in his life when Mr. Gladstone had a sleepless night was onthe night before he introduced his second great Home Rule Bill. And itshould be added that, stirring and eloquent as were the openingsentences, they were not listened to by the House with thatextraordinary enthusiasm which, on other occasions, sentences of thissplendid eloquence would have elicited. For what really the House wantedto learn was the great enigma which had been kept for seven longyears--in spite of protests, hypocritical appeals, and, ofttimes, tedious remonstrance from over-zealous and over-fussy friends. 

[Sidenote: The Bill. ]

By the time Mr. Gladstone had got to the Bill, he had exhausted a gooddeal of his stock of voice, and yet he seemed to be less dependent thanusual on the mysterious compound which Mrs. Gladstone mixes with her ownwifely hand for those solemn occasions. It appeared that both she andher husband had somewhat dreaded the ordeal. The bottle which Mr. Gladstone usually brings with him is about the size of those small, stunted little jars in which, in the days of our youth, the young buckkept his bear's grease, or other ornament of the toilet. But on MondayMr. Gladstone was armed with a large blue bottle--somewhat like one ofthose 8 oz. Medicine bottles which stand so often beside our beds inthis age of sleeplessness and worry. Nevertheless, Mr. Gladstone and hiswife had miscalculated, for on two occasions only throughout the entirespeech did he have to make application for sustenance to the medicinebottle. Another precaution which had been taken turned out also to beunnecessary. The Premier's eyesight is not as good as it was a few yearsago; and he sometimes finds it difficult to read anything but thebiggest print. For this reason, elaborate preparations had been made forhelping his eyesight. On the table before the Speaker's chair there wasa small lamp--somewhat like a student's lamp. This also turned out to beunnecessary, for the Old Man was able to read his notes without thesmallest difficulty; and the speech had come to a conclusion long beforethe hour when the deepening shadows make it hard to read by the lightfrom the glass roof of the House. 

[Sidenote: The peroration. ]

At last, the latest details had been given; the Old Man approached hisperoration. By this time the voice had sunk in parts to a low whisper, and the deathly hue of the beautiful face had grown deeper. There wassomething that almost inspired awe as one looked at that strange, curious, solitary figure in the growing darkness. The intense strain onthe House had finally exhausted it, and there had come a silence thathad in it the solemnity, the strange stillness, the rapt emotion ofsome sublime service in a great cathedral rather than the beginning ofone of the fiercest and most rancorous party conflicts of our time. Tothis mood Mr. Gladstone attuned the closing words of his speech. Thewords came slowly, quietly, gently, sinking at times almost to awhisper. What fantasies could not one's mind play as one listened tothese words. There was underneath the language, the looks, the voice, the tragic thought that this was a message rather from the shadow-landbeyond the grave than from this rough, noisy, material world. Imagineyourself in a country church, the sole visitor in the ghostly silenceand the solemn twilight, with spectres all around you in the memorialsof the dead and memories of the living, and then fancy the organistsilently stealing, also alone, to the organ, and giving out to theevening air some beautifully solemn anthem with all the sadness ofdeath, and none of the exultant joy of resurrection, and then you willget some faint idea of the pent-up emotion which filled everysympathetic heart in the great assembly as the Old Man finally came tothe closing words of his great speech. It was not so much a perorationas an appeal, a message, a benediction. 

At first, when the Old Man sat down, the pause followed that speaks ofemotion too deep for prompt expression, and then once again a rush totheir feet by the Irishry and the Liberals, loud cheering, and thewaving of hats, and all those other manifestations of vehement feelingwhich alone Mr. Gladstone is privileged to receive. The Tories had keptvery quiet; had conducted themselves on the whole very well. Once ortwice came a high sniff of disgust, and now and then a younger membercould not restrain himself from an exclamation. But, altogether, theOpposition was under the same spell as the rest of the House, andlistened patiently to the end. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Sexton. ]

I may pass over all that occurred on that Monday evening, with thesingle exception of the very remarkable speech of Mr. Sexton. It waswell known that Mr. Sexton had taken a prominent part in laying beforeMr. Gladstone and his colleagues the views of the Irish party as to whatwould constitute a satisfactory Bill to the Irish people; and Mr. Sextonwas authorised by his colleagues to state their views to the House. Thishe did slowly, deliberately, without the least attempt at oratory, butin language extraordinarily lucid, delicately shaded, touching on pointswith exquisite art. And what he said came to this; that the Bill was agood Bill; that in his opinion it could be accepted by the Irish peopleas a satisfactory settlement of their demands; but that in two points itneeded careful watching, and perhaps considerable amendment: thefinancial settlement and the future of the Land Question. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Balfour. ]

The Leader of the Opposition had not, so far, shone in his new position, and people were not slow in coming to the conclusion that he requiredthe stimulus and the strength of a solid majority behind him to bringout his peculiar talents. At all events, his first speech following theintroduction of the Home Rule Bill was a ghastly failure. It waslistened to in almost unbroken silence from the beginning to theend--not that the speech had not plenty of cleverness in it, the smallcleverness of small points--but it was badly delivered. It did not seemto rise to the heights expected on such an occasion; in short, it was adisappointment. Only once or twice did the Leader of the Oppositionsucceed in rousing his friends to even an approach to enthusiasm. Speaking of the amount of money put to the credit of Ireland, hedeclared the Government admitted they had been beaten in a conflict withthe forces of law and order, and that this was the war indemnity whichhad to be paid--a hit that very much delighted Mr. Chamberlain. Theportion of the speech which created sensation was that in which healluded to the use of the veto. It had been contended by Mr. Sexton thatthe veto would never be used unless the Irish Parliament so abused itspowers as to justify the use of it. This was an honourable bargainbetween the British Parliament and the Irish. To such a bargain Mr. Balfour declared he and his friends would be no parties. They would notlet the weapon of veto rust in case it were put into their hands, and soon--a passage which excited some enthusiasm on the Tory benches andstrong anger on the Irish. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Bryce. ]

The real framers of the Bill are understood to be Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Morley, and Mr. Bryce. No man in the House of Commons has so complete aknowledge as Mr. Bryce of the various forms of government in the world, especially in countries which have the complicated system that is aboutto be fashioned under the new Bill. Mr. Bryce is a professor and astudent, and he has the manner of his calling and his pursuits. Arguinghis case without passion, slowly, calmly, in excellently chosenlanguage, he can speak on even the most violently contested measure asthough it were a demonstration in anatomy. So he spoke on February14th--making mince-meat with deadly tranquillity of manner of most ofthe objections of Mr. Balfour, and altogether strengthening the positionof the Bill. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Redmond. ]

A speech which had been looked forward to with even greater curiositywas that of Mr. Redmond, the leader of the Parnellites. The Tories hadsettled themselves down in large numbers, counting on a great treat. Andundoubtedly the opening of Mr. Redmond's speech was not auspicious. Hethought that some recognition should have been given to the great deadIrishman as well as to the living Englishman who had brought the HomeRule question to its present position. The delighted Tories, not lovingMr. Parnell, but seeing in this the promise of a lively and unpleasantattack on the Bill, cheered lustily, and speeded Mr. Redmond on his wayon the full tide of a splendid reception. But as time went on, theirfaces gradually grew longer, and when Mr. Redmond resumed his seat theyhad come to the conclusion that one of the strongest foundations onwhich they had built their hopes for wrecking the Bill had entirelygone. Summed up, what Mr. Redmond had to say came to this: that he sawmany grave defects in the Bill; that he was especially dissatisfied withthe financial arrangements; that he didn't approve of the retention ofthe Irish members in the Imperial Parliament; but that, nevertheless, itwas a Bill to which he could give a general support. This speech wasreceived with great though silent satisfaction on all the Irish benches;but the poor Tories were brought to a condition well nigh of despair. And thus, cheered heartily by both Irish sections and enthusiasticallygreeted by the Liberals, weakly fought, feebly criticised by theOpposition the Bill started splendidly on its perilous way. 

CHAPTER III. 

A SOBER AND SUBDUED OPPOSITION. 

I have always held that the present Government would first begin to fixits hold upon the country when it was face to face with Parliament. Itwas, during the vacation, like a great firm that is expected byeverybody to do a vast amount of business, but that has been unduly andunexpectedly delayed in building its works. A visit to the House ofCommons during the week ending February 24th would have exemplified whatI say. It is true there would have been missed all the intense fury andexcitement which characterised one of the most exciting and interestingweeks the House of Commons has seen for many a day. There was a calm, the deadliness of which it is impossible to exaggerate. But periods ofcalm are much more interesting to Governments than to the public. Whenthere are the noise and tumult of battle; when the galleries arecrowded--when peers jostle each other in the race for seats--when thePrince of Wales comes down to his place over the clock, then you maytake it for granted that the business of the country is at a standstill;and that just so much of the public time is being wasted in mereemptiness and talk. But when the House is half empty--when the galleriesare no longer full--when debates are brief and passionless, then you canreasonably conclude that things are going well with the Government; thatuseful business is in progress; and that something is being really addedto the happiness of the nation. 

[Sidenote: The humbled Opposition. ]

So it was during the second week of the Home Rule Session. No greatdiplomats claimed their seats; the outer lobby was no longer besieged;there was no longer any ferocity of competition for seats; and theattendance at prayers visibly relaxed; but all the time more usefullegislation was initiated in the course of the week than in any similarperiod for upwards of six or seven years of Parliamentary time. A gooddeal of the progress is due to the sober and subdued spirit of theOpposition. So long as Mr. Balfour was in power, the more democraticsection of the Tory party was kept comparatively under; but with hisfall came an outburst of freedom; and men like Sir Albert Rollit, whorepresent great constituencies, have been able to freely express theirreal opinions. Let me pause for a moment on Sir Albert Rollit, to saythat he is a very remarkable type to those who have known the House ofCommons for a number of years--as I have. It is rather hard to make adistinction between him and a moderate, and in some respects, even anadvanced Liberal. He boasts, and rightly, that he represents as manyworking men as most of his Radical colleagues; and he certainly does sitfor a place which is not inhabited by any large number of wealthypeople. Disraeli, with his Household Suffrage; Lord Randolph Churchill, with his Tory Democracy, have brought this type of politician intoexistence, and now he is with us always. This is the answer to those whocontend that because there will be always Tories and Whigs, it makes nodifference what changes we make. The answer is Sir Albert Rollit; he isa Tory, but the Tory of to-day is pretty much the same as the Radical ofa few years ago. 

[Sidenote: The Registration Bill. ]

The Government brought forward the first of their Bills, and at once theTory Democrat showed what he was. For Mr. Fowler was able to quoteopinions from Tories quite as favourable to reform of registration asfrom Radicals, and several Tories stood up to speak in favour of themeasure. Opposition was really left to poor Mr. Webster, of St. Pancras;but, then, everybody knew what poor Mr. Webster meant, and nothing couldbetter express the lowliness of the Tory party than that opposition toanything should be led by the hapless representative of St. Pancras. Theconsequence of all this was that the Registration Bill passed in thecourse of a few hours--the debate illumined by an excellent maidenspeech from our John Burns--delivered in that fine, manly, deep voice ofhis--which always makes me think of a skipper on the hurricane deck inthe midst of rolling seas and a crashing storm. Even a few briefermoments sufficed for the Scotch Registration Bill; and the House ofCommons almost rubbed its eyes in astonishment to find that it hadactually got through two great Bills and was about to listen to a thirdin the course of one evening. 

[Sidenote: Employer's Liability. ]

But so it was; and there verily stood Mr. Asquith at the box in front ofthe Speaker's chair introducing the third great Bill of the Governmentin the same evening. Mr. Asquith's grasp of Parliamentary methodincreases daily. He is really a born Parliamentarian. It is certain thathe has made up his mind to go back to the bar when his time for retiringfrom office comes; it will be a tremendous pity if he does. Such a manis wasted before juries and in the pettiness of nisi prius. For themoment, however, he sails before the wind. With his youthful--almostboyish face--clean-shaven, fair and fresh--with his light brown haircarefully combed, school-boy fashion, and with no more trace of whitethan if he were playing football in a school gymnasium--he is awonderful example of early and precocious political fortune. There is inhis face a certain cheery cynicism--a combination of self-confidence andperhaps of self-mockery, the attitude of most clear-sighted men towardsfortune, even when she is most smiling. At the outset Mr. Asquith had toencounter an amendment from Mr. Chamberlain. It is needless to say that, while the most Radical Government which ever existed is proposingRadical legislation, the cue of Mr. Chamberlain will be now and then to"go one better"--to use the American phrase; and accordingly here was anamendment from Birmingham which went even further than the Bill of Mr. Asquith. With gentle but effective ridicule Mr. Asquith, riddled theChamberlain amendment; but for the moment the amendment served thepurpose of delaying further progress with the Bill. 

[Sidenote: Another surprise. ]

And there was another surprise--actually a fourth Bill--also from theGovernment Bench; and also proposing to make a further beneficial changein the position of working men. Mr. Mundella wanted to get power for theBoard of Trade to regulate the hours of labour among poor railway men. Sir Michael Hicks-Beach--who burnt his fingers over StationmasterHood--rushed up after Mr. Mundella had sate down--to claim a portion ofthe credit for this beneficial change. Here, again, the Oppositionshowed that meekness which has come over its temper. For six years theTories were in office, but there was no Bill. The moment he was out, SirMichael was full of the best intentions. But his attempt to get creditfor other men's work was vain; for he counted without Mr. Bartley--thegentleman whom North Islington sends to Parliament for the purpose ofimpeding all useful legislation. And that Bill also was delayed. 

[Sidenote: The government and private members. ]

There is always something foredoomed about a night which ends in acount-out. You can almost feel its untimely end in the air at the verybeginning of the sitting. There is always a great to-do about doing awaywith the privileges of the private member, but I have never really seenanything like a strong desire on the part of the House generally to keepthe small quorum together which is necessary for giving the privatemember his opportunity. To the uninitiated, it is perhaps necessary tosay that the sittings of the House are divided into two classes--whatare called Government and what are called private members' nights. Government nights are Mondays and Thursdays. On these days, theGovernment is entirely master of the time of the House. They can bringon Government Bills and in whatever order they please. On Tuesdays andon Wednesdays the private member is master of the situation--that is tosay, until the Government of the day get leave of the House to take allits time, and then the rights of private members disappear. On Fridaysalso the private member is in possession of most of the time of thesitting. That is the night on which the Government sets up Supply--thatis to say, puts down the votes for the money required for the publicservice. It is a fundamental principle of the British Constitution thatthe demand for money involves the right to raise any grievance; andaccordingly Supply on Friday night is always preceded by motions inreference to any subject which any member may desire to raise. Thesemotions are put on the paper, but so inherent is the right to raise anygrievance before giving money, that a member is entitled to get up, andwithout a moment's notice, raise any question which may appear to himdesirable for discussion. As a rule, however, there is but one questionfought out, and when that is decided the Government of the day isallowed to go on to the votes for money. 

[Sidenote: Parliamentary Wednesdays. ]

Wednesday is nearly always occupied with some Bill brought in by aprivate member, in which a large number of other members are interested. It used to be said that Wednesday was sacred to the churches and thechapels, and that only a religious debate could take place. This isstill the case to a large extent; for instance, on Wednesday, February22nd, they employed themselves at the House in discussing a Bill inwhich Dissenters are very much interested. Then, a division has to betaken at half-past five, and thus there is a good chance of a practicaldiscussion with a practical result. The consequence is that Wednesdaysittings are always looked forward to with a considerable interest, andit is always with a pang that the House gives up the right of theprivate member to them. A Wednesday sitting is rarely, if ever, countedout, and, indeed, I believe there is a rule which prevents them frombeing counted out before four o'clock, at which hour the late-comersfind it possible to turn up. Friday sittings also rarely, if ever, endbadly, for the Government is ever in want of money, and a Government hasalways forty staunch supporters who are ready to stay in the House inorder to help it to get through its business. But Tuesday belongs to noman in particular. The Government don't bother themselves about it, because they don't have money to get at the end of it: instead of itsbeing occupied with one Bill, which can raise a definite discussion, Tuesday has a number of motions on all sorts and kinds of subjects; and, in short, what's everybody's business is nobody's; and Tuesdayconstantly ends about eight or half-past eight o'clock in a count-out. The Government delightedly look on; it is an additional argument infavour of taking away the rights and privileges of private members andturning them into the voracious maw of the Government. 

[Sidenote: Wales in a rage. ]

A curious difference presented itself between the interior and theexterior of the House on the following day (February 23rd). Inside, there was for the most part a desert, yawning wide and drear, except onthe benches which were occupied by the sons of Wales; while outside inthe outer lobbies surged a wild, tumultuous, excited crowd, eagerlydemanding admission from everybody who could be expected to have theleast chance of giving it. Every Welshman in the world seemed to havegot there. I saw Mr. Ellis Griffiths--an impassioned and brilliant Welshorator who ought to be in the House; my friend, whom I used to know asHowell Williams, and I now have to call Mr. "Idris, " as if he were anembodied mineral water, and many others. The secret was that the nightwas devoted to the Suspensory Bill for the Established Church in Wales, and anybody who knows Welshmen, will know that this is a question onwhich Welsh blood incontinently boils over. Terse, emphatic, business-like Mr. Asquith put the case for Disestablishment on the plainand simple ground that the Established Church was the church of the richminority, and that the overwhelming majority of the Welsh representationhad been returned over and over again to demand Disestablishment. 

[Sidenote: The cynical Gorst. ]

Sir John Gorst has an icy manner and generally the air of a man who hasnot found the world especially pleasant, and delights to take rather apessimistic view of things. His great argument was that if this Billwere carried, young men would not find enough of coin to tempt them intothe Church, and that accordingly it would languish and fade away. Tosuch a prosaic view of the highest spiritual vocation, the unhappyTories listened with ill-concealed vexation, and Gorst once moreincreased that distrust of his sincerity in Toryism which perhapsaccounts for the small progress he has made in the ranks of his party. 

[Sidenote: Randolph again. ]

Throughout the night the debate languished, though there was anexcellent speech from Mr. Stuart Rendel on behalf of the Welsh party. This was practically the only speech from that side; for perceiving thatthe game of the Tories was to talk against time, the Welshmen wiselydeclined to aid them, and sate dumb, unless when they snorted defianceat some absurd claim or fanciful exaggeration on the other side. At tenminutes past ten, however, quite a different complexion was given to thewhole debate by the rise of Lord Randolph Churchill. He had not yetrecovered his old mastery of himself or the House; but his appearancewas very different from what it was a few nights earlier. There was nolonger that constant trembling of the hands which made it almost painfulto look at him; the voice did not shake painfully, and there was acertain recurrence of that old self-confidence. But still he was farfrom what he used to be. The once resonant voice was somewhat muffledand hoarse, accompanied by a certain tendency to feverish exaggerationof language--in fact, the old Fourth Party methods of almost consciousplaying to the gallery. However, it was a good fighting speech, and theTories had been so depressed by the bad speaking on their own side, andby the solid bench opposite of cheering, snorting, defiant, butdistinctly practical Welshmen, that they were delighted, and cheeredadmiringly. 

[Sidenote: Olympian wrath. ]

The intimates of Mr. Gladstone declare that composure is perhaps themost remarkable of his many qualities. In the midst of a Cabinet crisishe would hand you a postage-stamp as though it were the sole matter thatconcerned him. But it is also said by his intimates that he haspossibilities of Olympian wrath which almost frighten people. He wascertainly roused to a passion by Lord Randolph--very much to theadvantage and delight of the House of Commons; for during the earlierportion of the evening, and especially while the speech of Mr. Asquithwas being delivered, there was an impression that he did not look veryhappy. It is known that he is still fondly devoted to the Church, and itwas suspected that though his convictions were settled on the necessityof doing away with the Establishment in Wales, it was not the kind ofwork to which he went with any zest. But Lord Randolph roused the OldLion within him, and with flashing eye, with a voice the resonance ofwhich echoed through the House as though he were twenty yearsyounger--with abundance of gesticulation, and sometimes with swingingblows that were almost cruel--he slew the young intruder and wound upthe debate on the Church in a frenzy of excitement and delight among hisfollowers. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Kenyon. ]

There came, then, a series of incidents which threw the House intoconvulsions of rancorous scorn and farcical laughter. Earlier in theevening there had been a speech by Mr. Kenyon. Words fail to describethe kind of speech Mr. Kenyon delivers. Sometimes one is doubtful as tothe sex of the speaker, for he moans out his lamentations over "the dearold Church of England" exactly as one would imagine a sweet old ladywith a gingham umbrella and a widow's cap to intone it. Meantime, therest of the House is convulsed with laughter, so that there is thecurious contrast of one man--Punch-like in complexion and face--recitinga dirge while the rest of the House are holding their universal sideswith laughter. The anger came when Sir Henry James and Mr. T. W. Russellwere seen to be fluctuating between the Liberal and the Tory lobby. Joewisely found a convenient engagement at Birmingham. At last Toryismprevailed, and amid a tempest of ironical cheers, the Liberal renegadeswent into the Tory lobby. 

Then the Tories were beaten by a majority of 56, after which they trieda little obstruction. But it was promptly sat upon; the closure wasmoved; only the solitary and plaintive voice of Mr. Kenyon rose inprotest against it, and so, amid shouts of laughter and triumph, thedoom of the Welsh Establishment was pronounced. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE PERSONAL ELEMENT. 

[Sidenote: Small jealousies and great questions. ]

It is one of the delights of Parliamentary life that you can never besure of what is going to take place. The strongest of all possibleGovernments may be threatened, and even destroyed, in the course of asunny afternoon, which has begun in gaiety and brightest hope; areputation may grow or be destroyed in an hour; and an intrigue mayburst upon the assembly in a moment, which has been slowly germinatingfor many weeks. Mr. Gladstone had a notice upon the paper on Monday, February 27th, the effect of which was to demand for the Government mostof the time which ordinarily belongs to the private member. There is nonotice which has more hidden or treacherous depths and cross-currents. For when you interfere with the private member, you suddenly come incollision with a vast number of personal vanities, and when you touchanything in the shape of personal vanity in politics you have got into ahornet's nest, the multitudinousness, the pettiness, the malignity, theunexpectedness of which you can never appreciate. I sometimes gaze uponthe House of Commons in a certain semi-detached spirit, and I ask myselfif there be any place in the whole world where you can see so much ofthe mean as well as of the loftiest passions of human nature as in alegislative assembly. Look at these men sitting on the same bench andmembers of the same party--perhaps even with exactly the same greatpurpose to carry out in public policy, and neither really in the leastdishonest nor insincere. They are talking in the most amicable manner, they pass with all in the world--including themselves--for bosomfriends; and yet at a certain moment--in a given situation--they wouldstab each other in the back without compunction or hesitation, to gain astep in the race for distinction. 

[Sidenote: The dearest foes. ]

Between two other men there intervenes not the space of even a seat;they are cheek by jowl, and touching each other's coat-tails; and yetthere yawns between them a gulf of deadly and almost murderous hatewhich not years, nor forgiveness, nor recollections of past comradeshipwill ever bridge over. And look at the House as a whole, and what do yousee but a number of fierce ambitions, hatreds, and antipathies, naturaland acquired--the play of the worst and the deadliest passions of thehuman heart? Above all things, be assured that there is scarcely one inall this assembly whose natural stock of vanity--that dreadful heritagewe all have--has not been maximised and sharpened by the glare, theapplause, the collisions and frictions of public life. I have heard itsaid that even the manliest fellow, who has become an actor, is liableto be filled to a bursting gorge with hatred of the pretty woman who maysnatch from him a round of applause; and assuredly every nature isliable to be soured, inflamed, and degraded by those appearances beforethe gallery of the public meeting, the watchful voters, the echoingPress, and all the other agencies that create and register public fame. 

[Sidenote: Blighted hopes. ]

Think of all this, and then imagine what a Prime Minister does whoproposes a scheme which will deprive some dozens of men of anopportunity of public attention for which they have been panting andworking perchance for years. Recollect, furthermore, that the privatemember may be interested in his proposal with the fanaticism of thefaddist--the relentless purpose of the philanthropist, the vehementardour of the reformer. Then you can understand something of the dangerwhich Mr. Gladstone had to face. For his motion came to this, that everymember--except one--who had a resolution on the paper which he desiredto bring before the House had to be either silenced altogether or pushedinto a horrid and ghastly hour when either he would not be listened toby a dozen members, or would perhaps be guillotined out of a hearing bythe count out. Let me further explain, for I wish to make the wholescene intelligible to every reader. Tuesdays and Fridays belong toprivate members as well as Wednesdays, and on Tuesdays and Fridaysaccordingly private members bring forward motions on some subjects inwhich they are especially interested. In order to get these Tuesdays andFridays, they have to ballot--so keen is the competition for theplace--and if a member be lucky enough to be first called in the ballot, he gives notice of his motion, and for the Tuesday or the Friday thebest part of the sitting is as much his as if it belonged to theGovernment. 

[Sidenote: Salaried Members--Railway Rates--Bimetallism. ]

Now several members are interested in the question of payment ofmembers, and for Tuesday, March 21st, or some such day, there was amotion down for payment of members. Dr. Hunter is interested in the newrailway rates, and for Tuesday, March 14th, he had a motion down inreference to railway rates. Finally, several members are interested inbimetallism, and for Tuesday, February 28th, a motion on this subjectwas designed. What, then, Mr. Gladstone proposed meant that Dr. Huntercould not propose his motion of railway rates; that the memberinterested in payment of members could not propose his motion; that themotion on bimetallism could not be proposed; in short, that thesegentlemen, and their motions and their time, should be swallowed up bythe voracious maw of the Government. This description will suffice tobring before the mind of any reader the difficulty and danger of thesituation. 

[Sidenote: Disappointed Office-seekers. ]

I tread on somewhat delicate ground when I tell the story of the mannerin which some members of the Liberal party utilised this situation. Itis no secret that there are in this, as in every House of Commons, anumber of gentlemen who do not think that their services have beensufficiently appreciated by the Minister to whom the unhappy task wasgiven of selecting his colleagues in office. This is the case with everyGovernment, and with every House of Commons--with every party and withevery Ministry. You do not think that the favourite of fortune whom youenvy has reached a period of undisturbed happiness when he sits on theTreasury Bench--even when he speaks amid a triumphant chorus of cheers, or drives through long lines of enthusiastically cheering crowds. He hasto fight for his life every moment of its existence. He is climbing nota secure ladder on solid earth, but up a glacier with slipping steps, the abyss beneath, the avalanche above--watchful enemies all round--evenamong the guides he ought to be able to trust. Do you suppose that everymember of the Liberal party loves Mr. Asquith, and is delighted when hedisplays his great talents? Do you think that none of the gentlemenbelow the gangway do not believe that in their mute and ingloriousbreasts, there are no streams of eloquence more copious and resistless?No, my friend, take this as an axiom of political careers, that you holdyour life as long as you are able to kill anybody who tries to kill you, and not one hour longer. 

[Sidenote: Powerful malcontents. ]

It will be seen at once that a party of malcontents is especiallypowerful in a Parliament which has in hand the greatest task of ourtime, and which on the other side has a majority which revolt of even asmall number can at any moment turn into a dishonoured and impotentminority. Such being the material, a nice little plot was concocted bywhich a certain number of young members, full of all that vague distrustof existing ministries which belongs to ardent young Radicalism, wereto be induced to give a vote against Mr. Gladstone's proposal to takeaway the time of private members. And it is reported that one member ofthe Liberal party had begun operations as many as four weeks before Mr. Gladstone's Bill came on, and had tried to extort a number of pledges, the full meaning of which would only come upon the unhappy people whomade them when they had endangered or destroyed the best of modernMinistries. 

[Sidenote: The out-manoeuvred Tories. ]

I think I have now said enough to explain what I am going to relate. Mr. Gladstone explained his proposal; which briefly was, that in order toget on with Home Rule it was necessary to take the time of privatemembers. As will have been seen, the meaning of this would have been tohave swept away at once all the private motions in which members wereinterested. When the motion came to be discussed, there was a verycurious phenomenon. Everybody had been reading in the morning papers thechorus of disapproval in which the Tory press had been denouncing theleadership of the Tory party, liberals had been repeating to each otherwith delight the verdict of the chief Tory organ--the _Standard_newspaper--that the Tory party had been out-manoeuvred and beaten atevery point in the struggle, and that the portentous promises of therecess had been utterly baffled by the superior judgment, the betterconcerted tactics, and, above all, by the unexpected solidity andcohesion of the Liberal party. 

[Sidenote: Organized for obstruction. ]

That all this had produced its effect on the Tory party as well was soonevident. An old campaigner in the House of Commons can soon tell when aparty has been organized for the purpose of Obstruction. There is afeverishness; there are ample notes; there is a rising of many membersat the same time when the moment comes to catch the Speaker's eye. Otherindications presented themselves. Mr. Seton-Karr is, personally, one ofthe kindliest of men--cheery, good-natured, full of the easygive-and-take of political struggle; but even he himself would notclaim to be a Parliamentary orator. But on February 27th, he, as much aseverybody else, must have been surprised to find that his utterances, which, in truth, were stumbling enough, should at every point bepunctuated by a deep bellow of cheers such as might have delighted themost trained and the most accomplished orators in the House. The Houseitself was at first taken aback by this outburst of deep-throated andraucous cheers, and after it had sufficiently recovered from itssurprise discovered that it all came from one bench--the front benchbelow the gangway. On this bench there were gathered together a numberof the younger members of the Tory party. 

[Sidenote: The claque in Parliament. ]

At once it was seen what had taken place; the Tories, stung to action bythe taunts of their own press, had concerted a new system of tactics. And one portion of these tactics was to introduce into the House ofCommons a phenomenon new to even its secular and variedexperience--namely, an organized claque. It was really just as if onewere in a French theatre. Uniformly, regularly, with a certainmechanical and hollow effect underneath its bellowings, the group belowthe gangway uttered its war notes. Beyond all question, recognizable bythe unmistakable family features, it was there--the organized theatricalclaque on the floor of the British House of Commons. There were otherindications of the transformation on which the Tories were determined. When Mr. Seton-Karr sate down after a palpably obstructive speech, Mr. Bartley got up, and several other Tories at the same time. Mr. Bartleyis not an attractive personality. He has a very strong rather thanpleasant or intellectual face. There is plenty of bulldog tenacity init--plenty of animal courage, plenty of self-confidence; but it has noneof the rays of a strong intelligence, and not many glimpses ofkindliness or sweetness of nature. It is in the work of obstruction thatone sees temperament rather than intellect in the House of Commons. Obstruction does not call for very high intellectual powers, though, undoubtedly, obstruction can at the same time display the highestpowers. 

[Sidenote: Artists in obstruction. ]

For instance, Mr. Sexton made his first reputation in the House ofCommons by a speech three hours in duration, which was regarded by themajority as an intentional waste of time and an obstruction of a hatefulBill, but which everybody had to hear from the sheer force of itssplendid reasoning, orderly arrangement of material, and now and thenbursts of the best form of Parliamentary eloquence. But theobstructionist wants, as a rule, strength of character rather than oforatory--as witness the extraordinary work in obstruction done by thelate Mr. Biggar, who, by nature, was one of the most inarticulate ofmen. It was because Biggar had nerves of steel--a courage that did notknow the meaning of fear, and that remained calm in the midst of acyclone of repugnance, hatred, and menace. Mr. Bartley, then, has thecharacter for the obstructive, and he rose blithely on the waves of theParliamentary tempest. But he had to face a continuous roar ofinterruption and hostility from the Irish benches--those convertedsinners who have abjured sack, and have become the most orderly andloyal, and steadfast of Ministerialist bulwarks. And now and then whenthe roar of interruption became loud and almost deafening, there arosefrom the Tory bench below the gangway that strange new claque which onthat Monday night I heard for the first time in the House of Commons. 

[Sidenote: Mr. James Lowther. ]

One other figure rose out of the sea of upturned and vehement faces atthis moment of stress and storm. When the Irish Members were shoutingdisapproval there suddenly gleamed upon them a face from the frontOpposition bench. It was a startling--I might almost say a menacingexhibition. It was the face of Mr. James Lowther. I find that few peoplehave as keen an appreciation of this remarkable man as I have. In hisown party he passes more or less for a mere comedian--indeed, I mightsay, low comedian, in the professional and not in the offensive sense. His tenure of the Chief Secretaryship of Ireland is looked back upon, inan age that has known Sir Michael Hicks-Beach, Mr. Balfour, and Mr. JohnMorley, as a sublime and daring joke by Disraeli which belongs to, andcould only happen in an epoch when sober England was ready to allow herOriental juggler and master to play any kind of Midsummer's Night'sDream pranks even with the sternest realities of human life. Yetsometimes the thought occurs to me that if he were a little morearticulate, or, perchance, if the time came when a democracy had to bemet, not with bursts of Parliamentary eloquence, but with shot andshell, and the determination to kill or be killed, the leadership of theparty of the aristocracy would fall from the effeminate hands of thesupersubtle and cultivated Mr. Balfour into the firm and tight grip ofthe rugged, uncultured country gentleman who sits remote and neglectedclose to him. There are the tightness and firmness of a death-trap inthe large, strong mouth, a dangerous gleam in the steady eyes, infinitepowers of firmness, inflexibility, and of even cruelty in the wholeexpression, not in the least softened, but rather heightened and exaltedby the pretty constant smile--the smile that indicates the absence alikeof the heat of passion or the touch of pity, and that speaks aloud ofthe unquestioning and dogged resolve of the aristocrat to fight forprivilege to the death. 

[Sidenote: What a cruel face!]

"Ah, what a cruel face!" exclaimed an Irish Member by my side as Mr. Lowther turned back and shouted, "Order, order!" at the Irishbenches--the good-humoured smile absent for a few moments, andrevelations given into abyssmal depths. But Mr. Lowther soon recoveredhimself, smiled with his usual blandness, and once more dropped the hoodover his inner nature. But it was a moment which brought its revelationsto any keen observer; especially if he could have seen the answeringlooks from a pair of blazing Celtic eyes--also characteristic in theirway of all the passion, rage, and secular intrepidity of the smallerand weaker race that has carried on a struggle for seven centuries--overbattlefields strewn with the conquered dead--past gallows stained byheroic blood--past prisons and hulks where noble hearts ate themselveswearily and slowly to death. It was as in one glance all the contrast, the antipathies, the misunderstanding which had separated one type ofIrishmen from one type of Englishmen through hundreds of years. 

[Sidenote: The bond of the Railway Rates. ]

These are somewhat remote reflections from the squat figure, the harshand grating voice, and the commonplace rhetoric of Mr. Bartley--so farcan fancy and insight lead one astray in that great stage of Titanicpassions which is spread on the floor of the House of Commons. And whatsignificance of great historic issues and reminiscences there were inthe scene were likewise lost on Dr. Hunter. To him the universe at themoment--all the tremendous destinies on the knees of Mr. Gladstone--allthe millionfold hopes and hungering longings that were involved--were asnought in comparison with the fact that the motion of Mr. Gladstonedeprived him of the opportunity of raising a debate on Railway Rates. Coldly, calmly, self-confidently, Dr. Hunter attacked the Government inits weakest place, and drove the dagger home through the vulnerableside. The weakness of the position was this: there was a strong, vehement, and widespread revolt in the House against the exactions ofthe railway companies. Liberal members had on the subject exactly thesame feelings as Tories; nightly a score of questions were asked on thesubject. Altogether, indignation had broken down party lines, andagainst the railway companies Liberal and Tory made common cause. Unfortunately, Dr. Hunter's case had been strengthened by a somewhatweak yielding of Mr. Gladstone to a demand for a day on Bimetallism. This demand had, it is true, been urged upon him from various parts ofthe House, including his own, and he seemed to be yielding to a prettyuniversal demand. But Bimetallism was a craze with no chance of evendistant success, while Railway Rates were at that very moment urgentlycalling for redress from hundreds of threatened industries. It would beseen then what a dexterous weapon for striking the Government theselection of the day for Railway Rates was. 

[Sidenote: No Tory Leader. ]

The Tories ought to have at once perceived the value of the weapon whicha Liberal had thus placed in their hands. Some of them did so, and, undoubtedly, if a man with the Parliamentary instinct of Lord RandolphChurchill had been at their head, they would at once have made deadlyand, haply, destructive use of the opportunity. But Mr. Balfour wasaway. Lord Randolph sate, dark and solitary, at a remote seat, and Mr. Goschen can always be confidently relied upon to do the wrong thing. Itwill be seen presently how he helped to save the Government it was hisduty to destroy. No; the danger of the situation came not from the Tory, but from the Liberal benches. There are in the Liberal, as in everyparty of the House, a number of young and new members who have not yetlearned the secret and personal springs of action, and who, moreover, donot at once realize the vast underlying issues on an apparently smallquestion. To them the Liberal intriguers against the Government hadsteadily and plausibly addressed themselves, and many of them were underthe impression that the question raised by Dr. Hunter would decidenothing more serious than the special purpose to which one day of theSession could be devoted. 

[Sidenote: A coming storm. ]

But anybody with the slightest acquaintance with the House of Commonswould have soon perceived that matter of much greater pith and momentwas at stake. The Senior Ministerial Whip is the danger-signal of theHouse of Commons; and the danger-signal was very much in evidence. Mr. Marjoribanks--of all Whips the most genial, even-tempered, andlong-suffering, as well as the most effective--was to be seen, rushingbackwards and forwards between the lobby and the Treasury bench, where, with Mr. Gladstone, he held whispered and apparently excitedconversations. Meantime, there grew up in the House of Commons thatmysterious sense of coming storm which its quick sensibilities alwaysenable it to see from afar. There came a sudden murmuring, and then astrange stillness, and older members almost held their breaths. From theIrish benches not a sound escaped. In most Parliamentaryfrays--especially when the storm rages--there are certain Irish memberswho are certain to figure largely and eminently; but on these benchesthere was a silence, ominous to those who are able to note the signs ofthe Parliamentary firmament. Anyone looking on could have seen that thesilence did not come from inattention or want of interest, for the looksbetrayed keen and almost feverish excitement. 

[Sidenote: Ireland in danger. ]

For what was going on was a fight whether Ireland was to be lost orsaved, and lost through the folly, desertion, or levity of some of themen that had sworn to save her. Fortunately, the strains of the mosttragic situations have their relief in the invincible irony of life, andthere was a welcome break in the appearance on the scene of him whom allmen know as "Alpheus Cleophas"--the redoubtable Mr. Morton. Some men arecomic by intention, some are comic unconsciously and unintentionally, some men are comic half by intention and half in spite of themselves. Tothis last class belongs our Alpheus Cleophas. He played his part ofcomic relief with a certain air of knowing what was expected of him--yousee this demoralizing House of Commons makes everybody self-conscious, and one could see that he himself anticipated the roar of laughter withwhich the House received his statement, "I have now a majority"--bywhich, for the moment, Alpheus appeared as the leader of the Government, and a party which controlled the destinies of the House of Commons. 

[Sidenote: Mere comic relief. ]

Still, as I have said, this was only comic relief--the jokes, ofttimesmechanical, by which the young men and women downstairs prepare to passthe time which is required for the preparation of the great scene, inwhich their principals have to enact their great situation. Still, the_dénouement_ of the drama was uncertain. Mr. Marjoribanks rushed fromlobby to Mr. Gladstone, from Mr. Gladstone to lobby--and still therehung in the air the fatal question: "Was the Government going out?" Ah!think of it. Was Gladstone going to end his days in baffled purpose, inmelancholy retirement, with the great last solemn issue of his lifeended in puerile fiasco and farcical anarchy, instead of in the pictureof two nations reconciled, an empire strengthened and ennobled, allhumanity lifted to higher possibilities of brotherhood and concord, bythe peaceful close of the bloody and hideous struggle of centuries?Think of it all, I say, and then go also in imagination to the door ofthe House of Commons, and see a Scotch Liberal fighting for dear life tobring into the Tory lobby the necessary number of misguided and ignorantneophytes to bring down this disastrous catastrophe. 

[Sidenote: Why no signal?]

Meantime, confusion still reigned on the Liberal benches. Men wereconfused, and bewildered, and irresolute, and frightened, conscience ofcalamitous danger, and yet unable to understand it all. And here let mesay that this state of confusion was due partly to bad leadership. Thereis a want of cohesion--on this day in particular--on the Treasury bench. Mr. Gladstone, like all ardent natures, takes too much on himself. Heis, of course, a tower of strength--twenty men are not such as he. Butthe burden cannot all be borne by one shoulder--especially at a portionof the sitting when, by a strict interpretation of the rules of theHouse, Mr. Gladstone is allowed to speak but once. Why were thesescattered and young and inexperienced troops not told, by their leaders, of the vast issues involved in this coming vote? Why were not all thesophistries brushed away, by which the conspirators against theGovernment were hiding the real effect and purpose of the votes? SirWilliam Harcourt is an old Parliamentary hand; Mr. John Morley isexcellent when a few words are required to meet a crisis; Mr. Asquith--keen, alert, alive to all that is going on--sits at Mr. Gladstone's side. Why were all these lips dumb? It made one almost rageor weep, to see the uncertain battle thus left unguided anduncontrolled. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Goschen to the rescue. ]

At last a saviour, but he came from the ranks of the enemy. Mr. Goschenswept away the network of cobwebs under which Liberals had hidden theissues, and boldly declared the real issue. And that issue was, that Mr. Gladstone wanted time to push forward his Home Rule Bill, and that theTory party was determined to prevent him getting that time if they couldmanage it. Where be now the hysterics about private members and simpleissues and small questions? The issue lies naked and clear before theHouse. But still victory isn't assured. Mr. Goschen with his thickutterance, his muffled voice, his loss of grip and point, has ceased tobe listened to very attentively in the House of Commons; and thisspeech--the most significant yet delivered--passes almost unnoticed, except by those who know the House of Commons and watch its moods andevery word. The last and decisive word has yet to come. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Storey's contribution. ]

At the same moment as Mr. Morton, Mr. Storey had risen from his seat, and demanded the word. There is a flutter of expectation. On this speechdepended, at this moment, the fate of Home Rule and the GladstoneGovernment. What will it say? Mr. Storey always takes a line of his own;is a strong man with strong opinions, plenty of courage, not altogetherfree from the tendency of original natures, to break away from themechanical uniformity of party discipline. Moreover, he is the chiefamong that sturdy little knot of Radicals below the gangway who aredetermined to make the Liberal coach go faster than the jog-trot of mereofficialism. Will he call upon his friends to stand by the Government orto desert them--it is a most pregnant question. 

It is not easy, in the midst of cyclones, to collect one's thoughts--tochoose one's words--to hit straight home with short, emphatic blow. Butthis feat Mr. Storey accomplished. I have never heard, in my thirteenyears' experience of the House of Commons, a speech more admirable inform. Not a word too much, and every sentence linked tight to theother--reasoning, cogent, unanswerable, resistless. And the point aboveall other things laid bare--are you Liberals going to help the Tories topostpone, if not finally overthrow Home Rule, or are you not? This, itwill be seen, is but the emphasizing of the lead already given by themaladroit speech of Mr. Goschen. But Mr. Storey, clear, resonant, resolute, speaks to a House that listens with the stillness of greatsituations. Every word tells. The issue is understood and knit; and nowlet us troop into the lobbies, and proclaim to the world either ourabject unfitness to govern an empire and pass a real statute, or let usstand by our great mission and mighty leader. 

[Sidenote: John Burns's penetration. ]

Not even yet do levity and faction surrender the final hope of doingmischief. At the door of the House, as I have already said, stands aScotch Liberal doing the work of Tory Whips, and attempting to captureyoung members who have smoked their pipes or drank their tea, orwandered up and down the terrace by the peaceful Thames--all unconsciousof the great and grim drama going forward upstairs. He catches hold ofJohn Burns, among others--a sturdy son of the soil ready to receive, asmight be hoped, anything which calls itself sturdy and independentRadicalism. Over honest John's manly form there is a fight; but he has astrong, clear, practical head over his muscular body, and at oncepenetrates to the underlying issue, and walks into Gladstone's lobby. 

[Sidenote: The division. ]

At last the division is nearing its close, and the excitement--perhaps, because it is so painfully repressed--has grown until it has almostbecome unbearable. Whenever there is a close division like this, severalthings happen which never happen on other occasions. Members gatherround the doors of the division lobbies, listening to the tellers asthey count one, two, three, four, and so on, in the mechanical voice ofthe croupiers, bidding the gamblers to play with the dice of death. TheWhips also are narrowly watched to see which return first to the House, for the first return means which lobby has been sooner exhausted, andthe lobby sooner exhausted is necessarily the smaller lobby, and, therefore, the lobby of the minority. Mr. Marjoribanks, who has told forthe Government at the door of the Tory lobby, has returned to the Housefirst. That's a good sign. But still, if there be a majority, what is itgoing to be?--disastrously near defeat, or near enough to moral strengthas to mean nothing? A few minutes more have to pass before this fatefulquestion is settled. Mr. Thomas Ellis--light, brisk--walks up the floorto the clerk in front of the table. Then the numbers are whispered toMr. Gladstone. The winning teller always takes the paper from the clerk. It is Mr. Marjoribanks who receives the paper, and the Government haswon. A faint cheer, then an immediate hush; we want to know the exactnumbers. Mr. Marjoribanks reads them out--a majority of thirty-one. Wehave won, and we who support the Ministry, cheer; but our majority hasbeen reduced, so the Opposition burst their throats with defiant answer. 

Then, with fatuous folly, the Tories insist on another division. TwoIrish members, driving straight from Euston station to the House--JohnDillon and Mr. Collery--have meantime been added to the Ministerialranks. Some of the mutineers have come back, and the majority rises toforty-two. 

And so ended the great intrigue of the Liberal malcontents against theGladstone Government. 

[Sidenote: Obstruction rampant. ]

The word had gone forth--the Home Rule Bill was not to be allowed topass the second reading before the Easter recess. The slings and arrowsof the Tory press had at last begun to have their effect, andobstruction had now been entered upon thoroughly, fiercely, andshamelessly. The first specimen of it was on the following Thursdaynight, when Mr. T. W. Russell took advantage of an harangue by Mr. Justice O'Brien--those Irish judges are all shameless politicalpartisans--to move the adjournment of the House. Mr. Morley was inexcellent fighting form. T. W. Russell is a man peculiarly wellcalculated to draw out the belligerent spirit of any man, and the ChiefSecretary, though he holds himself well under restraint, has plenty offire and passion in his veins. He let out at T. W. Russell in splendidstyle, and the more the Tories yelled, the more determinedly did Mr. Morley strike his blows. Russell, he said, had spread broadcastphylacteries, and used his most pharisaical language. At this there weredeafening shouts from the Tory benches of "Withdraw! Withdraw!" Mr. Morley's reply was to repeat the words "pharisaical language"--at whichthere was another storm. Then Mr. Morley quietly observed that if hewere out of order, the Speaker was the proper person to call him toaccount; and as the Speaker made no sign, the Tories were reduced tosilence. In a few sentences, Mr. Morley made mince-meat of the wholeattack: showing that crime, instead of increasing, had actuallydiminished in Clare since he had come into office, and that Mr. Balfourand coercion had completely failed to do even as much as he had done. Mr. Balfour made a somewhat feeble reply. And finally, in spite of astrong whip, the Tories were beaten by forty-five--the normal Liberalmajority. 

[Sidenote: The loosing of the winds. ]

But all this was but the preface to uglier and worse work which was tocome later on. Supply is the happy hunting-ground of obstructives. Thequestions there are small, and so easily comprehended, that even thedullest man can talk about them, and it requires--as I have saidabove--not intellect, but temperament. For nearly four hours there was adiscussion on an item of £100, which had been spent on improving theaccommodation of the House of Commons. John Burns, disgusted at thispalpable waste of time, four times moved the closure. Jimmy Lowther--whohas come wonderfully to the front since obstruction and general rowdyismhas become the order of the day with the Tories--instantly turned toJohn with the observation that this was not the County Council;whereupon John promptly retorted, "Nor are you on Newmarket Heath. " Atlast, after the waste of these four mortal hours, the closure was moved, was resisted by the majority of the Tory party, but, at the same time, was so necessary and proper, that several Tories voted in its favour, and some disgusted Unionists actually left the House. 

[Sidenote: A criminal combination. ]

But even worse was still behind. Mr. Bowles--a new and clever Torymember--was anxious to raise the whole question of Egyptian policy on asmall vote for meeting the expense of building a new consular house atCairo. Thereupon, Mr. Mellor--as he was plainly bound to do--declaredthat a discussion of the entire Egyptian policy would not be in order onsuch a vote. Pale, excited, looking his most evil self, Mr. Chamberlaingot up to base an attack on Mr. Mellor for this judgment. There was adelighted howl from the young Tory bloods who had been obstructing soshamelessly throughout the evening. Mr. Chamberlain's example wasfollowed by Mr. Balfour, by Sir John Gorst--in short, the whole Tory andUnionist pack were in full cry after the Chairman. The inner meaning ofall this, was the desire to discredit the new Chairman, and intimidatehim, lest he should show a bold front against the shameless obstructionon which the Tories had resolved. Mr. Sexton put this point neatly. Inview, he said, of the combined attempt and evident combination tointimidate and embarrass the Chair--but he could go no further: for atonce there was a fierce hurricane of howls, "Withdraw! Withdraw!" and"Shame! Shame!" from the Tories and renegades, which drowned everyvoice. Tory after Tory got up; shouts deafening, passionate, ferocious, made everything inaudible; Mr. Chamberlain, paler even than usual, shouted with full mouth across the floor; altogether, the scene was oneof almost insane excitement. Mr. Mellor--gentle, considerate, conciliatory--reasoned, explained, expostulated. What he should havedone, was to have named half-a-dozen Tories, and showed the party ofbullies that their day was past. 

CHAPTER V. 

OBSTRUCTION AND ITS AGENTS. 

[Sidenote: The younger Tories. ]

Obstruction is a thing rather of temperament than intellect. Theoccurrences of the early weeks of the Session of 1893 fully confirm thisview. The Tory party and the Unionists vowed in their organs, and provedby their conduct in the House, that they determined to try and prevent, by obstruction, the second reading of the Home Rule Bill being takenbefore Easter. With this design they came down to the House everyevening with a plan of attack. The consequences were somewhat serious tosome members of the House. I saw young gentlemen suddenly developingactivity whom I had beheld in the House for many years in successionwithout ever suspecting in them either the power or the desire to takeany part in Parliamentary debate. The same gentlemen now rushed aboutwith a hurried, preoccupied, and, above all, a self-conscious air thathad its disgusting but also its very amusing side. For instance, Mr. Bromley-Davenport, during the six years of Tory Government, never spoke, and rarely even made his appearance in the House of Commons. His voicewas as strange to the assembly as though he had never belonged to it. But this Session he is constantly getting up in his seat, and he rushesthrough the lobbies with the cyclonic movement of a youth bearing onjuvenile shoulders a weight too heavy to bear. Mr. Bartley is about asdull a fellow as ever bored a House of Commons, and in the lastParliament even his own friends found him a trial and a nuisance. He hassuddenly taken to making the House of Commons familiar with his voice atevery sitting. Lord Cranborne has been remarkable for the boorishnessand impertinence of his manners--or, perhaps, to be more accurate, wantof manners. I have seen him interrupting Mr. Gladstone in the mostimpudent way with a face you would like to slap, and his hands deep downin the depths of his pockets. Lord Cranborne is now nightly in evidence, and leads the chorus of jeers and cheers by which the more brutal of theTory youth signalize the opening of the new style of Parliamentarywarfare. 

[Sidenote: Jimmy. ]

But of all the things which indicate the new state of affairs which hasarisen, nothing is so significant as the change in the position of JimmyLowther. People think that I have attached too much importance to thisextraordinary individual, and that he should be taken simply as thefrank horse-jockey he looks and seems. I have given my reasons forbelieving that in a crisis Jimmy would develop a very different side ofhis character, and that he has in him--latent and disguised for themoment--all the terrible passions and possibilities of the aristocrat atbay. However, let that question rest with history and its futuredevelopments; his position at the present moment is very peculiar. Thereis a report that the desire of his heart is to sit on the first seat onthe front bench below the gangway, which for seven years was occupied byMr. Labouchere, and which for the five years of Mr. Gladstone's Ministryof 1880 to 1885 was occupied by Lord Randolph Churchill when he was thechief of the dead and buried Fourth Party. That seat is the naturalpoint for a sharpshooter and guerilla warrior. Indeed, the first seatbelow the gangway seems just as marked out by fate for such a man asJimmy Lowther, as one of the high fortresses on the Rhine for the workof the bold freebooter of the Middle Ages. But for some reason or other, Jimmy did not attain his heart's desire, and he is compelled to sit onthe front Opposition bench. This would not seem an affliction toordinary men. Indeed, the desire to sit on one of the front benches maybe regarded as the root of all evil in Parliamentary nature--the desireto eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge which is as fatal to natureborn without original political sin as that disastrous episode in theannals of our first parents. 

[Sidenote: A recollection of Disraeli. ]

One of the most curious episodes in the career of Disraeli was that heinsisted on sitting on the front Opposition bench before he had everheld office--an act of unprecedented and unjustifiable daring whichthrows a significant light on that habit of self-assertion to which heowed a good deal of his success in life. For what a seat on the frontOpposition bench means is, that the holder thereof has once held officein an administration, and so is justified for the remainder of his daysin regarding himself as above the common herd. But Jimmy isn't asordinary men. A place on the front Opposition bench, with all itsadvantages, has the countervailing disadvantages of binding to a certaindecency and decorum of behaviour, and nothing could be more galling tothe free and full soul of the distinguished steward of the Jockey Club. It is said that in the same way his colleagues on the front Oppositionbench would prefer Jimmy's room to his company. In Parliamentarypolitics, as in diplomacy, there is such a thing as having an agent whomyou can profit by, and at the same time disavow--just as it may suityou. That is one of the many guileful methods of these crafty men whosit on front benches on both sides of the House. Obstruction is a thingtoo horrible to be practised by any man who has ever held responsibleposition, and it is delightful to see how Mr. Balfour repudiates thevery idea of anything of the kind. It would, therefore, have suited Mr. Balfour a good deal better if Jimmy could have obstructed from somequarter of the House where his closeness of association would not solargely commit his more responsible colleagues to participation in hisiniquities. However, it was not to be managed; and the leaders of theOpposition are bound to put up with the closeness of Jimmy'scompanionship. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Lowther's intellect. ]

Again I repeat, obstruction is a matter not of intellect, buttemperament. Intellectually, I should put Jimmy in a very low place, even in the ranks of the stupid party. Temperamentally he stands veryhigh. A brief description of his methods of obstruction will bring thishome. First, it should be said that he is entirely inarticulate and, beyond rough common sense, destitute of ideas. He has nothing to say, and he cannot say it. There are men in the House of Commons who haveplenty of thoughts, and who have plenty of words besides, and couldbranch out on any subject whatever into a dissertation which wouldcommand the interest even of political foes. But Jimmy is not of thisclass. He is capable, on the contrary, of bringing down the loftiestsubject that ever moved human breasts to something stumbling, commonplace and prosaic. When he gets up, then, his speech consistsrather of a series of gulps than of articulate or intelligiblestatements. But then mark the singular courage and audacity of the wholeproceeding. There are traditions still in the House of Commons of themarvellously stimulating effect upon followers of leaders, who wereproverbial for their oratorical impotence. Everybody remembers thescornful description of Castlereagh which Byron gave to the world; andyet it has been said in some memoirs that the moment Castlereagh stoodup and adjusted his waistcoat, there was a thrill in the House ofCommons, and his followers bellowed their exultation and delight. In amore recent day, Lord Althorpe was able to bear down the hostility ofsome of the most powerful orators of his time by a bluff manliness whichno rhetoric could withstand. And so also with Jimmy--his sheer audacitycarries him along the slow, dull, inept, muddy tide of his inarticulatespeech. 

[Sidenote: An irrepressible nuisance. ]

And curiously enough, it is impossible to put him down. On March 6th hewas commenting on some item which he supposed was in a Post-officeEstimate. It was pointed out to him that the item to which he alludedwas not in that particular vote at all, but in quite another vote, whichcame later on. Jimmy, nevertheless, went on to discuss the item as ifnothing had been said. Then the long-suffering Chairman had to be calledin, and he ruled--as every human being would have been bound torule--that Jimmy was out of order. Was Jimmy put down? Not the least inthe world. He made an apology, and, as the apology was ample and hisdeliverance is slow, the apology enabled him to consume some moreminutes of precious Government time. And then, having failed to findfault with the estimate for what it did not contain, he proceeded toassail it for what it did contain. Here again he was out of order, forthe estimate was prepared exactly as every other estimate had beenprepared for years. This answer was given to him. But Jimmy wenton--gulping and obstructing, obstructing and gulping. It is amusing, perhaps, to you who can read this description as part of anafter-dinner's amusement, but what is one to think of a Parliamentaryinstitution that can be so flouted, and nullified by mere beef-headeddulness? This is a question to make any one pause who has faith inParliamentary institutions. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Balfour keeps away. ]

During all these performances, Mr. Balfour keeps steadily away from theHouse. He never was a good attendant, even in his best of days, and nowthat he is relieved of responsibility, he naturally seeks to takeadvantage of it. But he doesn't take so much advantage as one wouldexpect. He who used to be so indolent, has developed a feverishactivity. He seems during some portions of every sitting to be ready torise to his feet at the smallest provocation, and to interfere in thesmallest matter of detail. It is this tendency which has hurried himinto some of those ridiculous errors, which he has made so frequently. The explanation of it all, is that curious figure that sits so silent, remote, and friendless on the front Opposition bench. Lord Randolph isstill the riddle which nobody can read. Whenever Mr. Balfour appearsLord Randolph does his best to efface himself, even in the places whichmen select on the front bench. Here is a hint of that eternal conflictand play of ferocious appetites and passions which is going on in theHouse of Commons. Everybody who has ever visited the House of Commonsmust have observed that pair of boxes which stand on the table in frontof the Speaker's chair. These boxes mark to the outward world thepositions of the most important men in the House of Commons--the Leaderof the House and the Leader of the Opposition. Mr. Balfour, whenever heis in the House, sits opposite his box, and so proclaims to all theworld the lofty post he holds. And when this is the case, it is inalmost the very last seat--separated by half a dozen otherindividuals--Lord Randolph is to be seen. To turn to another part of theHouse, it is the men in whom Mr. Gladstone most confides who sit oneither side of him--Sir William Harcourt and Mr. John Morley. If on anyday it were seen that either of these two men had left the side of theirleader, and was separated from him by several others, the rumour wouldrun like wildfire through the House of Commons that the relations of thePremier and one of his chief lieutenants were strained. 

[Sidenote: Deadly foes. ]

So Mr. Balfour watches Lord Randolph and Lord Randolph watches Mr. Balfour, with the deadly vigilance of two men who stand opposite eachother in a wood with drawn swords in their hands. There is anothergentleman, besides, whom the Tory leader has to watch, and, perhaps, more keenly. Lord Randolph Churchill is not always in his place, and hismovements in these days are leisurely--I remember when they wereelectric in their rapidity and frequency. But Mr. Chamberlain is adistinctly ready man. Whatever gifts he has, are always at his command. He is like the shopman who puts all his goods in the window. The goodsare not very fine nor very good, but they are showy and cheap, and, above all things, take the eye. Mr. Chamberlain in his day has been apoor attendant in Parliament--a friend of his used to tell him, when hewas supposed to have the reversion of the Liberal leadership, that hisinability to remain for hours in succession in the House of Commonswould always stand in the way of his being the leader of that assembly. But he turns up now usually after dinner, and from his seat on the thirdbench below the gangway, on the Liberal side, watches the progress ofbattle. It is known to the intimates of Mr. Balfour that he has not aparticularly high opinion of his partner in the work of obstructing thecause of Home Rule. Indeed, it is impossible that the two men should bereally sympathetic with each other. With all his faults, Mr. Balfourdoes represent the literary and cultured side of political life; whileMr. Chamberlain is illiteracy embodied. Then, Mr. Chamberlain has aknack of attributing every victory to himself--modesty isn't one of hismany virtues--and this cannot be particularly agreeable to the realleader of the Opposition. There is thus a constant competition betweenthe two men as to which shall give the marching orders to the enemies ofthe Government. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Chamberlain's slatternly inaccuracy. ]

There was a singular scene on March 6th, which brought out the relationsof the two in a singular manner. There appeared that day in thecongenial columns of the _Times_ a letter, a column in length, and setforth with all the resources of leaded and displayed type which theoffice could afford. In this letter Joe had lamented the disappearanceof those courteous manners of an elder and more Chesterfieldian time, towhich he suggested he belonged. The origin of this delicious lament overa venerable and more courteous past by so flagrant a type of modernity, was a statement that Sir William Harcourt had played the dirty trick ofputting down a notice to suspend the twelve o'clock rule at a shorternotice than usual. The suspension of the twelve o'clock rule simplymeans that the Tories shall not be allowed to obstruct by the mere factthat the House is compelled automatically to close at midnight under theexisting rules. Joe appeared in his place swelling with visibly virtuousindignation; evidently he had come, ready to bear down on Sir Williamand the Government generally with the cyclone of attack. But thisnotable design was prevented by two accidents. First, Sir WilliamHarcourt got up and explained that the notice he had given was exactlythe same kind of notice that was always, and had been always, given inlike circumstances. Everybody who knows anything about Parliamentarymatters knows that this was the literal truth. The dirty trick which Mr. Chamberlain had attributed to Sir William Harcourt existed only in hisown uninstructed and treacherous memory; and so he was crushed. Still hewanted to have a word in, and more than once he showed signs of risingto his feet. But he stopped half-way, and, when he did finally get up, Mr. Balfour was before him, and he had to sit down again. Then hisopportunity was lost, for Mr. Balfour had declared that he was perfectlysatisfied with what Sir William Harcourt had done, and that preventedJoe from entering on the filibustering tactics which apparently hecontemplated. This appeared to the whole House to be a very distinct andunpleasant snub for Joseph. A short time afterwards he and Mr. Balfourwere seen in the lobby, engaged in a conversation that was apparentlyvehement, and everybody jumped to the conclusion that they were havingit out, and that Joseph was resenting the rejection of his advice withthat haughtiness of temper which is so well-known a characteristic ofthe Radical whom wealth has converted into a leader of the aristocracy. The papers afterwards contained an announcement that the twoconspirators against Mr. Gladstone's Government were in the heartiestaccord. This was one of the semi-official denials which are generallyregarded as the best testimony to the truth of the report denied. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Morley. ]

If one were on the look-out for dramatic and instructive contrast in theHouse of Commons, one could not do better than study Mr. Morley and Mr. Chamberlain for a week. Mr. Chamberlain--glib, shallow, self-possessed, well-trained by years of public life--debates admirably. Nobody can denythat--not even those who, like myself, find his speaking exasperatinglyempty and superficial and foolish. He is master of all his resources;scarcely ever pauses for a word, and when he is interrupted, can parrythe stroke with a return blow of lightning-like rapidity. But when hesits down, is there any human being that feels a bit the wiser or thebetter for what he has said? And who can get over the idea that it hasall been a bit of clever special pleading--such as one could hear inhalf-a-dozen courts of law any day of the week? And, finally, who isthere that can help feeling throughout all the speech that this is aselfish nature--full of venom, ambition, and passion--seeing inpolitical conflict not great principles to advance--holy causes todefend--happiness to extend--but so many enemies' faces to grind todust?

Mr. Morley is a fine platform speaker, but as yet he is not nearly asgood a debater as Mr. Chamberlain. He stumbles, hesitates, finds it hardoften to get the exact word he wants. And yet who cannot listen to himfor ten minutes without a sense of a great mind--and what to me isbetter, a fine character behind it all? This man has thoughtout--possibly in travail of spirit--and his creed--though it may not bethe exultant cheerfulness of natures richer in muscle than inthought--is one for which he will fight and sacrifice, and not yield. Inshort, the thinness of Mr. Chamberlain--the depths of Mr. Morley--theseare the things which one will learn from hearing them speak even once. 

I have said that Mr. Morley is not as good a debater as Mr. Chamberlain;but if Mr. Chamberlain be wise, he will call his watch-dogs off Mr. Morley, for he is being badgered into an excellent debater. Every nighthe improves in his answers to questions. Tersely, frigidly--thoughthere is the undercurrent of scorn and sacred passion in most of what hesays--Mr. Morley meets the taunts and charges of the Russells, and theMacartneys, and the Carsons, and never yet has he been beaten in one ofthose hand-to-hand fights. 

[Sidenote: Flagrant obstruction. ]

There was a curious but instructive little scene towards the end of asitting early in March. The Tories--headed by Jimmy Lowther--had beenobstructing in the most shameless way for a whole afternoon. Towards theend of the evening Mr. Chamberlain had come down and joined in thefray--lending his authority to tactics which usually had been left tothe rag-tag and bobtail of all parties. As I have already said, thiskind of intervention had seriously diminished Mr. Chamberlain in therespect of the House. And the way in which he did his work was venomousas well as petty. The vote under discussion was a Supplemental Estimatefor Light Railways in Ireland. Everybody knows that light railways werethe policy of the late and not of the present Government. A supplementalestimate means simply a smaller sum by which the original estimate hasbeen exceeded. It ought to have been a matter of course that thissupplementary estimate should have been agreed to by the Tories, seeingthat it was money necessary to carry out the programme passed by theirown friends in the previous administration. But the Tories were in nohumour to listen to such trifles as these, and carried on lengthydiscussions. Mr. Morley, having no responsibility for the policy whichrendered such a vote necessary, was away in his room, attending to theduties of his laborious department. Mr. T. W. Russell assumed to be in agreat pucker over this absence, and actually tried to stop theproceedings until Mr. Morley came back. 

[Sidenote: While a wronged nation waits. ]

Mr. Morley did appear in due course, and then there was an attempt toassail him for his absence. There was also an attempt to take advantageof his presence to resume the discussion of the very topics which hadalready been discussed for many hours in his absence. Mr. Morleyrefused to fall into the trap. Speaking quietly, but with a deadly blowbetween every word, he declined to be a party to obstruction byanswering again questions which had already been answered many timesover. At this, there was a loud shout of approval from the Liberalbenches--exasperated almost beyond endurance by the shameless waste oftime in which the Tories, aided by Mr. Chamberlain, had indulged in forso many hours. Mr. Chamberlain professed to be greatly shocked. But theHouse was not in a mood to stand any more nonsense. Mr. Chamberlain andMr. Lowther, and the rest of the obstructive gang, had to submit to havethe vote taken. In the meantime there stood the business of the countryto be done. All its needs, its pressing grievances, its vast chorus ofsighs and wails from wasted lives--rose up and called for justice; buttricksters, and self-seekers, and horse-jockeys stopped the way. 

[Sidenote: Carlton Club echoes. ]

There were signs of the meeting at the Carlton when the House met onThursday evening, March 9th. The Tory benches were crowded; the youngbloods were fuller than ever of that self-consciousness to which I haveadverted, and there were signs of movement, excitement, and the spiritof mischief and evil in all their faces and in their general demeanour. There were nearly one hundred questions on the paper--and questions hadbecome a most effective weapon of Obstruction. But there was a certainpeculiarity about the questioning on this Thursday evening. A strangerto the House would have remarked that all the questions addressed to Mr. Gladstone were asked last. This was not an accidental arrangement. Itwas done in the case of every leader of the House, so as to leave himmore time before coming down to the House of Commons. It was done in thecase of Mr. Balfour when he was leader of the House, with the resultthat that very limp and leisurely gentleman never came down to his placeuntil the House had been one or two hours at work. There was, of course, much stronger reason for that little bit of consideration in the caseof Mr. Gladstone, than in that of a young man like Mr. Balfour. 

[Sidenote: The epoch of brutality. ]

But the Tories, in the new and brutal mood to which they have workedthemselves up, have taken means for depriving Mr. Gladstone of whatsmall benefit he got from this postponement of the questions to him tillthe end of question time. The puniest whipster of the Tory or theUnionist party now is satisfied with nothing less, if you please, thanto have his questions addressed to and answered by Mr. Gladstonehimself. One of this impudent tribe is a Scotch Unionist named Cochrane. The Scotch Unionist is one of the most bitter of the venomous tribe towhich he belongs. Mr. Gladstone is a man of peace and unfailingcourtesy, but the old lion has potentialities of Olympian wrath, andwhen he is stirred up a little too much his patience gives way, and hehas a manner of shaking his mane and sweeping round with his tail whichis dangerous to his enemies and a delight and fascination to hisfriends. He took up the witless and unhappy Cochrane, shook him, anddropped him sprawling and mutilated, in about as limp a condition as thelate Lord Wolmer--I call him late in the sense of a person politicallydead--when that distinguished nobleman was called to account for hisodious calumny on the Irish members. 

[Sidenote: Baiting the lion. ]

At last, however, the Cochranes and the rest of the gang that hadthought it fine fun to bait an old man were silenced; but even yet theordeal of Mr. Gladstone was only beginning. I have seen many disgustingsights in my time in the House of Commons; but I never saw anything sobad as this scene. Mr. Gladstone looked--as I thought--wan and rathertired. He had been down to Brighton; and I have a profound disbelief inthese short hurried trips to the seaside. But Mr. Gladstone seems tolike them, and haply they do him good. He looked as if the last trip hadrather tired him out. Or was it that he had had to sit for several hoursthe day before at a Cabinet Council? These Cabinet Councils must oftenbe a great trial to a leader's nerves; for all Councils in every body inthe world mean division of opinion, personal frictions, ugly outburstsof temper, from which even the celestial minds of political leaders arenot entirely free. Anyhow Mr. Gladstone looked pale, fagged, and even alittle dejected. You--simple man--who are only acquainted with humannature in its brighter and better manifestations, would rush to theconclusion that the sight of the greatest man of his time in hiseighty-fourth year, thus wan, wearied, pathetic, would appeal to theimaginations or the hearts of even political opponents. Simple man, youknow nothing of the ruthless cruelty which dwells in political breasts, of the savagery which lies in the depths of the horse-jockey squire orthe overdressed youth--anxious to distinguish himself, if it be only bythrowing mud at a stately column--you have no idea of these things. 

[Sidenote: The lion lashes out. ]

Time after time--again and again--in this form and in that--the Tories, young and old, experienced and senseless, rose to try and corner Mr. Gladstone. Mr. Frank Lockwood, examining a hostile witness in thedivorce court, could not have been more persistent than the Lowthers, and the Cranbornes, and even Mr. Balfour. But he was equal to themall--met them man after man, question after question, and, though he hadto be on his feet a score of times in the course of a few minutes, wasalways ready, firm, alert. How we enjoyed the whole splendid display--abrilliant intellect playing with all the ease of its brightest and bestpowers; but, after all, what a flood of holy rage the whole thing wascalculated to rouse in any but rancorous breasts. However, we had ourrevenge. The resurgence of Jimmy Lowther seems to be a phenomenon, asdisturbing to his friends as to his foes. The ugly necessity for sharingresponsibility for his vulgar and senseless excesses has come home toMr. Balfour. There was something very like a scene this night betweenhim and the Newmarket steward. Mr. Balfour was ready to accept theassurances which had been given to him by Mr. Gladstone--assuranceswhich, if anything, erred on the side of conciliation--but Jimmy hasentered on the frenzied campaign of obstruction to all and everythingwhich his dull, narrow, and obstinate mind has mistaken for high policy. This led to a strange and striking scene. Mr. Balfour, speaking on somequestion, was interrupted by Mr. Lowther--and then, in front of thewhole House--in words which everybody could hear, with gesture of hiswhole arm--sweeping, indignant, irritated--the gesture with which amaster dismisses an importunate servant--the Tory leader rebuked theinterruptions of Mr. Lowther. 

[Sidenote: Jimmy flouts Mr. Balfour. ]

But Mr. Lowther, in these days, is not to be put down, and doubtless hefeels in his inner breast that wrong which has been done for years tohis talents and his services; doubtless he remembers the silence andobscurity to which he has been condemned, while Mr. Balfour has beenfiguring largely before the general public, in the very situation whichJimmy held himself in days when Mr. Balfour stumbled and trembled fromhis place below the gangway. At all events, Jimmy has determined torevive; and in these sad days, when nothing but the sheer brutality ofobstruction is required, he is not a man to be trifled with. And so hedefied Mr. Balfour and insisted on a division. Mr. Balfourostentatiously left the House, but the majority of the Tory partyfollowed Jimmy. 

[Sidenote: The pity of it. ]

All this resuscitation of obstruction necessitated, on Mr. Gladstone'spart, an extreme step. Before this time Mr. Gladstone was very rarely inthe House after eight o'clock. About that hour, he silently stole awayand left the conduct of the business of the House to Sir WilliamHarcourt. He was thus able to get to bed at a reasonable hour, and toattend during the day to the business of the nation. But when theemergency arises, Mr. Gladstone is never able to listen to the dictatesof prudence, or selfishness, or peril. He was determined to show theTories that if they were going to play the game of obstruction, theywould have to count with him more seriously than they imagine. To hisfriends--who doubtless were aghast at the proposition--he announced thathe was going to break through those rules which had been imposed uponhim by a watchful physician and by his age. At eleven o'clock heannounced he would be in the House again, and accordingly, at eleveno'clock--quietly, unostentatiously, without the welcome of a cheer--healmost stole to his place on the Treasury Bench. Something about thefigure of Mr. Gladstone compels the concentration of attention upon himat all times. He seems the soul, the inspiration, the genius of theHouse of Commons. He was not, as is usually the case with him in theevening, in the swallow-tail and large shirt-front of evening dress; hehad the long, black, frock coat, which he usually wears on the greatoccasions when he has a mighty speech to deliver. Of course, Mr. Gladstone was immediately the observed of every eye; but, as I havesaid, there was no demonstration--the House of Commons is often silentat its most sublime moments. 

[Sidenote: He pounces. ]

But if there were silence, it was simply pent-up rage, fierce resolve. When, having brought the discussion down to past midnight, the Toriescalmly proposed that the debate should be adjourned, the Old Man got up. He was very quiet, spoke almost in whispered lowliness; but he wasunmistakable. The vote would have to be taken. An hour later--when theclock pointed to one--there was a second attempt. There was the sameresponse in the same tone--its quietness, however, fiercely accentuatedby Liberal cheers. And then, when the Tories still seemed determined toobstruct, came a division, then the closure, and at one o'clock in themorning Mr. Gladstone was able to leave the House. Thus was he compelledto waste time and strength, that Mr. Chamberlain might nightly hiss hishate, and Mr. Jimmy Lowther might gulp and obstruct, obstruct and gulp. 

CHAPTER VI. 

GLADSTONE THE SURVIVAL. 

[Sidenote: From the past. ]

What I like most about Mr. Gladstone is his antique spirituality. Themodern politician is smart, alive, pert, up-to-date; knows everythingabout registration; hires a good agent; can run a caucus, and receive adeputation. With us, as yet, the modern politician has not whollyabandoned religious faith--as he has done among our neighbours on theContinent--and has not come to regard this solid earth of ours as theone standing-place in a universe alone worthy the consideration ofintelligent men. But the English politician is so far suffused with thespirit of modernity as to prefer the newspaper to the book, to regardmore closely registration records than the classics, and generally iswide awake rather than steeped in subtler and profounder forms ofsagacity and knowledge. The Prime Minister is a Survival. With all hisextraordinary adaptiveness, he stands in many respects in sharpestcontrast to his environment. I can never forget, as I look at him, allthose years he spent in that vanished epoch which knew nothing ofevolution or of science at all, and was content to regard a knowledge ofthe classics as the beginning and the end of a gentleman's education. After reading the life of Lord Aberdeen, I was brought back in spirit toall those years during which Mr. Gladstone was a member of the Toryparty, and lived in an atmosphere of proud, scholarly exclusiveness--ofdistrust of the multitude--of ecclesiasticism in the home, in the forum, and as the foundation of all political controversy. When, therefore, Mr. Gladstone is going through a crisis, it is intensely interesting to meto watch him and to see how he carries himself amid it all; and then itis that this thought occurs to me of how differently and clearly hestands out from all his colleagues and surroundings. 

[Sidenote: A reminiscence. ]

Different things suggest early associations to different people. Mrs. Solness, in the "Master Builder, " could think only of her dolls when shewas telling the story of the fire that left her childless for ever. Ihave heard of a great lady who cannot see a shell without recalling thescenes of her dead youth before her. Next to the railway bridge whichspans the river in my native town, there is nothing which brings backthe past to me so palpably and so vividly--I might sometimes say, sopoignantly--as the echoes of books. One of my clearest recollections isof a little room, looking out on a sunny and, as it appeared to me then, a beautifully-kept garden, with a small but glistening river in thedistance, and the air filled, not only with the songs of birds, but allthe intoxicating and inaudible music of youth's dreams and visions. Allthis phantasmagoria of memory is accompanied by the echo of a melodious, rich voice, rising and falling, in the to me unfamiliar but delightfulaccent of an educated Englishman: and the story of AncientGreece--sometimes her poetry with the loves of her gods, the fights, theshouts of battle, the exhortations and the groans of her heroes--risesonce more before me. Or, again, I hear the tale told anew of that greatlast immortal day in the life of Socrates, as the great Philosopher sankto rest in a glory of self-sacrificing submission, serenity, andcourage--a story which moves the world to tears and admiration, and willcontinue so to do as long as it endures. The voice of the teacher andthe friend still survives, which had this extraordinary power of givingin the very different tongue of England all the glories of the poetryand the prose of Greece; and other youths, doubtless like me, look outunder the spell of its music to that same green garden in far-offGalway, by the side of Corrib's stream. 

[Sidenote: Gladstone dreams. ]

Of all this I sate musing during some idle moments in the middle ofMarch; for, as I looked at Mr. Gladstone, the whole scene was, by acurious trick of memory and association, brought back to me. Everyonewho knew the great old Philosopher of Athens, will remember that he hadhis familiar _dæmon_, and that he believed himself to have constantcommunication with him. If I remember rightly, there is a good dealabout that _dæmon_ in his "Phædo"--that wonderful story to which I havejust alluded, and which lives so vividly in my memory. Sometimes I thinkthat Mr. Gladstone has the same superstition. He has moments--especiallyif there be the stress of the sheer brutality of obstructive and knavishhostility--when he seems to retire into himself--to transfer himself onthe wings of imagination to regions infinitely beyond the reach, as wellas the ken, of the land in which the Lowthers, the Chamberlains, and theBartleys dwell. At such moments he gives one the impression of communingwith some spirit within his own breast--a familiar _dæmon_, whose voice, though still and silent to all outside, shouts louder than the roar offaction or the shouts of brutish hate. Then it is that I remember whatdepths of religious fervour there are in this leader of a fiercedemocracy, and can imagine that ofttimes his communings may, perchance, be silent prayer. 

[Sidenote: In contrast with Lowther. ]

As I have said, there have been many such moments in those days inParliament. Mr. Gladstone can be severe--wrathful--even cruel. It is notoften that he is so, but sometimes he has, in sheer self-defence, tonotice the dogs that yelp at his heels, and to lash out and maul them soas to keep off the rest. Nobody will forget how, in a few words, Mr. Gladstone mercilessly and for ever crushed that impudent younggentleman, who is titled and considered to-day largely because Mr. Gladstone was the patron of his sanctimonious father. Mr. Jesse Collingshides under a painfully extorted smile the agonies he endures on the fewoccasions when Mr. Gladstone deems it worth his while to scornfullyrefer to his apostasy. But, speaking generally, Mr. Gladstone uses hisgiant powers with extraordinary benignity and mercifulness, and isalmost tender with even his bitterest opponents. When, therefore, Mr. Gladstone was being baited by beef-headed Lowther, he for the most partlooked simply pained; and took refuge in that far-off self-absorptionwhich enabled him to forget the odious reality in front of him. Andassuredly, if you looked at the face of Gladstone, and then at the faceof Lowther, and thought of the different purposes of the two men, youcould not be surprised that Mr. Gladstone should desire to forget theexistence of Mr. Lowther. Mr. Lowther's face, with its high cheek-bones, its heavy underhung lip, like the national bulldog in size, and in itsimpression of brutal, dull, heavy tenacity--its grotesquegood-humour--its unrelieved coarseness--brings out into higher contrastand bolder relief the waxen pallor, the beautifully chiselled features, the dominant benignity and refinement of the face of Mr. Gladstone. And, then, think that the one man is fighting to maintain, and the other toput an end, and for ever, to the hateful, bloody, and, it might almostbe said, bestial struggle of centuries; and you can understand thefeeling of overwhelming loathing which sometimes rises in the breasts ofthose who see the two men pitted against each other. 

[Sidenote: For Jimmy was leader. ]

For this was what it had come to in the House of Commons. It was JimmyLowther against Mr. Gladstone. Mr. Balfour occasionally dropped in aperfunctory word; now and then even tried to raise the standard ofrevolt against Mr. Lowther; and, of course, had finally to accept theconsequences of Mr. Lowther's acts. Joe was there too; much more activein sympathy with Jimmy than Mr. Balfour. With all his faults, there isa certain saving refinement in Mr. Balfour--it is not a refinement thathas restrained him from being cruel with the hysteric violence of theeffeminate, but it is a refinement that preserves him from the mereNewmarket horseplay of Jimmy Lowther, and the thin rancour of aBrummagem drummer. Joe, I say, was there, ready to back up Jimmy in hisworst exploits, but, after all, Jimmy was the leader. In this mightystruggle--not merely for the reconciliation of England and Ireland, butfor the existence of Parliamentary institutions--the stakes are nosmaller--the gentlemen of England were represented by Mr. Lowther, andthe rude democracy by Mr. Gladstone. Democrats need not feel muchashamed of the contrast. 

[Sidenote: The apotheosis of Jimmy. ]

But there Jimmy Lowther was, gulping and obstructing, obstructing andgulping. The deadly and almost animal dulness of the performance I mustinsist on again and again. Mr. Lowther does not speak--he is asinarticulate as one of the prize bulls which, I doubt not, he delightsto view at Islington what time the Agricultural Hall opens its portalsto fat men and fat beasts. He cannot stand on his legs for five minutestogether without saying half-a-dozen times, "I repeat what I havealready said;" he has no ideas, no language, nothing except sheerbull-headed power of standing on his legs, and occupying a certainamount of time. Everybody knows that Lowtherism reached its climax onSaturday, March 11th. On that day, men, who had held high office, werenot ashamed to resort to so mean and palpable an obstructive expedientas to put on paper twenty-two questions to their successors in office. The previous Friday had been bad enough. That was the day which triedMr. Gladstone more, perhaps, than any day for many a year; and, indeed, it tried others as much as he, though not everybody bore it with thesame iron and inflexible courage. There were large absences--some of theIrish away at conventions in Ireland, others without that legitimateexcuse; there were Liberal absentees as well. Obstruction, meantime, stalked triumphantly; and when the divisions came, our strength sankdown to almost invisible figures. Ah! it was saddening to look at Mr. Gladstone's face throughout that long morning sitting of Friday, March10th. There are some days that live in one's memory, not so much as daysas nights--with the ghastly spectres of darkness--nightmares--hauntingsof a hideous past--anticipations of a joyless future. Such that Fridayremains in my memory--with Mr. Gladstone's face standing out from thesurrounding figures--pale, remote, pained. 

[Sidenote: The G. O. M. As a lecturer. ]

The announcement of the following Monday came only as a surprise tothose who had not been fully behind the scenes. There were few, who knewthe impression that the Friday had made, who did not feel sure that thegame of pushing the Home Rule Bill on before Easy Easter was up, andthat Mr. Gladstone had been beaten by the sheer brutality ofObstruction. But still hope springs eternal in the Irish breast, andthere was still the lingering feeling that Mr. Gladstone would make afurther and more desperate effort to break down one of the mostshameless crusades of Obstruction on which a great party had everentered. Indeed, Mr. Gladstone himself was responsible for a rise in thetemperature of his own party on the very evening of that fateful andfatal Friday morning, when obstruction and the abandonment of their ownfriends had so nearly driven the Government out of office. I couldscarcely believe my eyes when at nine o'clock on that day I came down tothe almost empty House--in these evening sittings the House always looksabout as cheerful as a theatre at mid-day--and saw Mr. Gladstone on theTreasury Bench, almost radiant, and evidently full of speech, go, andspirit. There wasn't really the smallest necessity for his presence. Nothing stood on the paper save one of those harmless, futile motionswhich are discussed with about as much interest by the House generally, as "abstract love"--to use a bold figure of Labby in a recent debate. It was a motion which complained that private members did not getsufficient time. Considering that private members had used theirprivileges for some two weeks previously to destroy the very foundationof all representative Government--namely, that the majority shallprevail--the complaint seemed a little audacious. Anyhow, a debate uponit could lead nowhere. But the moment the resolution was proposed, upstood the Grand Old Man, and delivered a bright, sparkling littleacademical address, for all the world like the lecture of a very_spirituel_ French professor to a parcel of boys from the QuartierLatin. For the moment you could actually imagine that the Old Man hadforgotten that there were such things in the world as Home Rule, Obstruction, Newmarket Lowther, and Brummagem Joe. And all the time herewere we, who could be his sons, grinding our hearts in despair--infutile anger--in melancholy retrospect. 

[Sidenote: An hour of gloom. ]

With the Monday, however, came a biting frost. The news that Mr. Gladstone had been struck down from the fray, was sufficient to prepareanybody for the final announcement. With him leading the Liberal hosts, one could feel that obstruction could finally be beaten, howeverobstinate might be its resistance--for he has the faith that movesmountains. Then came the announcement that the second reading of theHome Rule Bill had been postponed till after Easter. The Tories and theUnionists were apparently taken by surprise; so much so that they didnot seem to have the power of yelling forth their delight at the triumphof their policy with that full chorus which one would have expected. Altogether, the announcement came upon the House, and passed the House, with a quickness and a greater quietness than one might have expected. The consequences were too serious to be grasped immediately; and menwere almost anxious to get to the lobbies for the purpose of discussingit in all its bearings. 

The rest of the week was but a poor falling-off after the heroic andtragic fever of its opening, and of the week which preceded it. Onecould see that in the Liberal ranks there had succeeded to the fiercefighting spirit of the previous days a certain lassitude anddisappointment. What their faces told in the House their lips morefreely uttered in the lobbies. For a time, indeed, there was a feelingof almost unreasoning despair, and that full, frank, unsparing criticismto which every Government is subject from its friends when the windsblow and the waves are high. It was said that the Government hadcommitted the mistake of making too many targets at once; that they hadfirst infuriated the Church by the Welsh Suspensory Bill; that they hadfollowed this up by infuriating the publicans and the brewers by theVeto Bill; that, meantime, there was very little chance of their beingable to obtain the compensatory advantage of getting these Bills passedinto law. There were grumblings about the Registration Bill; in short, nothing and nobody were spared in this hour of gloom and disaster. 

[Sidenote: "Herr Schloss. "]

But the House of Commons--as I have often remarked--is like a barometerin the promptitude of its reflection of every momentary phase, and allthese things are duly discounted by old Parliamentary hands accustomedto panics when a check comes to what has been a most successful campaignon the whole. And in the meantime, if there had been any tendency todisintegration, it was soon restored by the conduct of the Tories. For, the old game of obstruction and vituperation went on just as strongly asif no concession had been made, and no victory gained. The Monday nighthad been reserved for a debate on the Evicted Tenants' Commission. AndMr. T. W. Russell, brimful of notes and venom, sate in his place, asimpatient to rise as the captive and exuberant balloon which only strongropes and the knotted arms of men hold tight to mother earth. Jimmy, however, has a passion for his ignoble calling; he sings at his worklike the gravedigger in "Hamlet. " And before the inflated Russell wasable to explode, Jimmy had an hour or so to himself in the discussionof Mr. Mundella's efforts to deal with labour. It was on this occasionthat Jimmy spread something like dismay in the bench on which he sate. Mr. Schloss, who had been appointed as a correspondent by Mr. Mundella, has a name which shows a German origin. Jimmy insisted on speaking ofhim accordingly as "Herr Schloss. " And there, not a yard from Jimmy, sate the Baron de Worms, one of the most portentous and pretentious ofEnglish patriots, who bears not only a German name, but a German title. I don't know whether "Herr" Goschen was in the House at the same time;if so, his feelings must have been very poignant. Mr. Mundella doesn'tknow how to treat these Obstructives. The main thing is not to take themseriously. Jimmy, to tell the truth, makes no pretence of taking himselfseriously, and grins through a horse-collar most of the time he isspeaking. But the poor President of the Board of Trade is conscious ofdoing everything man can do to help to the solution of the vexedquestions of the time. He cannot avoid allowing himself to be worked upinto a frenzy by imputations which he ought to know are simply intendedfor the purpose of getting him out of temper, and so prolonging debate. 

[Sidenote: Sir John Gorst. ]

Sir John Gorst is one of the men who have again been brought much intoevidence by the turn events have taken. I remember the time when hefirst made a Parliamentary figure. It was in the days when Lord RandolphChurchill started out on his great and meteoric career, at the beginningof the Parliament of '80. Sir John Gorst was, in many respects, thecleverest of the brilliant little group--at least, at the work whichthey were then doing. He is cold-blooded, quick, and dexterous, and, above all things, he has supreme pessimism and cynicism. To him, allpolitical warfare is a somewhat squalid struggle, in which everybody isdishonest, and everybody playing for his own hand. It is an advantage insome respects to take that view; it saves a man from anything likeunduly passionate convictions--enables him to keep cool even in tryingcircumstances. I have seen Sir John as cold as ice in the very heightand ecstasy of the most passionate moments in the fierce Parliament of1880 to 1885, and a man who remains so cool is sure to be able to strikehis blows deliberately and home. My poor friend, Mr. Mundella, sometimesforgets this. When Sir John Gorst accused him of slighting somebody--Idon't know who; and, really, it doesn't matter, for Sir John Gorst knewvery well that the charge was entirely unfounded--when, I say, Sir Johndid this, up jumped honest Mr. Mundella to indignantly deny that he hadever done anything of the kind. Of course, he hadn't, and Sir John Gorstknew that as well as Mr. Mundella. But then, ten minutes were wasted inthe encounter; and even ten minutes are not despised by Jimmy and hiscompeers. 

[Sidenote: T. W. Russell. ]

At last, this was got over, and the time came for T. W. Russell. Thereare few men in the House of Commons who excite such violent dislike onLiberal and Irish Benches as this pre-eminently disagreeablepersonality. The dislike is well founded. It is not because Mr. Russellis rancorous, or has strong opinions; it is because nobody has any faithin his sincerity. For many years of his life he was a paid teetotallecturer. Teetotalism is a counsel of perfection, and teetotallers areestimable men, but the paid platform advocate of teetotalism is never avery attractive personality. This tendency to shout, and thump thetable, and work up the agony--this eternal pitching of the voice to thescream that will terrify the groundlings, appal the sinner, and bringdown the house--all these things produce a style of oratory which isabout as disagreeable as anything in the shape of oratory can be. Aboveall things, it is difficult to take the itinerant lecturer seriously, with his smoking meal at home as a reward for his philanthropic efforts. The whole thing produces on the mind the impression of a clap-trapperformance, with no heart or soul underneath all its ravings, bellowings, and dervish-like contortions. 

Mr. Russell has ceased to be a teetotal lecturer, and has become a stumporator for the Unionist party, but the scent of the teetotal platformhangs round him still. He yells, bellows, and twists himself about, putsall his statements with ridiculous exaggeration--altogether, so overdoesthe part that it is only the wildest and emptiest Tory who is taken inby him. What spoils the whole thing to my mind is that it is all soevidently artificial--so palpably pumped up. Clapping his hand on hisbreast, lifting his shaky fingers to Heaven, Mr. Russell is always in afrenzied protestation of honesty, of rugged and unassailable virtue, ofbitter vaticination against the wickedness of the rest of mankind. Noman could be as honest as he professes to be, and live. The whole thingwould be exquisite acting if, underneath all this consciousexaggeration, you did not see the mere political bravo. You turnsometimes, and sicken as though you were at the country fair, and sawthe poor raucous-throated charlatan eating fire or swallowing swords tothe hideous accompaniments of the big drum and the deafening cymbal. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Carson. ]

No--Mr. T. W. Russell is the mere play-actor. If you want one of the realactualities in the more sinister side of Irish life, look at and studyMr. Carson. It is he who winds up the debate on the commission of Mr. Justice Mathew--a debate made memorable by the ablest debating speechMr. Morley has made in the whole course of his Parliamentary career. Isee men talking to Mr. Carson that belong to an opposite side ofpolitics. I confess that I never see him pass without an internalshudder. Just as the sight of an abbé gave M. Homais, in "MadameBovary, " an unpleasant whiff of the winding-sheet, there is something inthe whole appearance of Mr. Carson that conveys to me the dank smell ofthe prison, and the suffocating sense of the scaffold. Do you rememberthat strange, terrible day in the "Dernière Incarnation de Vautrin, " inwhich Balzac describes Vautrin's passage through the ranks of thegaol-birds and gaol officials among whom he had passed so much of hislife? Above all, do you recall that final, and supreme, and awful touchin which, addressing consciously the handler of the guillotine, heprofesses to take him for the chaplain, and, bringing the poorexecutioner for once to confusion, is addressed with blushing face andtrembling lips with the observation, "Non, Monsieur, j'ai d'autresfonctions"?

[Sidenote: Green Street Court-House. ]

Mr. Carson, doubtless, has "autres fonctions" than that of JackKetch--who has always been so efficient and constant an instrument ofGovernment in Ireland--but I am never able to regard one part of theofficial machinery by which wronged nations are held down as verydifferent from the other. Above all, I am unable to make muchdistinction between the final agent in the gaol and those other actorswho play with loaded dice the bloody game in the criminal court with thepartisan judge and the packed jury. Doubtless, happy reader, you havenever been in a place called Green Street Court-House, in Dublin. If youever go to the Irish capital, pay that spot a visit. It will compensateyou--especially if you can get some _cicerone_ who will tell you some ofthe associations that cling around the spot. It is in a backstreet--narrow, squalid, filthy--surrounded by all those signs ofcrumbling decay which speak more loudly to the visitor to Dublin of thedecay and destruction of a nation than fieriest orator or solidesthistory. And in no part of Dublin have Death's effacing fingers workedwith such destructiveness as in all the streets that surround the GreenStreet Court-House. Palatial mansions are windowless, grimy, hideous--with all the ghastly surroundings of tenement homes of the verypoor. 

It is in Green Street Court-House that the political offenders inIreland are tried. Within its narrow and grimy walls I saw many agallant Irishman, when I was a young reporter, pass through a foregoneand prearranged trial to torture, agony, madness, premature death. Ican only think of it as of a shambles, or, perhaps, to put it morestrongly, but more accurately, as I think of that wooden framework inwhich I saw the murderer, Henry Wainwright, hanged by the neck one foggymorning years ago, a gallows. The jury was packed, and the judges on thebench were as much a part of the machinery of prosecution as the Counselfor the Crown. The whole thing was a ghastly farce--as ghastly as theprivate enquiries that intervene between the Russian rebel and thehunger, and solitude, and death of the fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul, or the march to Siberia. 

[Sidenote: The lawyer and the hangman. ]

In all such squalid tragedies, men of the Carson type are a necessaryportion of the machinery, as necessary as the informer that betrays--asthe warder who locks the door--as the hangman who coils the rope. Markyou, all the forms--all the precautions--all the outward seeming ofEnglish law and liberty--are in these Irish courts. The outside is justthe same as in any court that meets in the Old Bailey; but it is all themask and the drapery, behind which the real figures are the foregoneverdict, the partisan judge--the prepared cell or constructed gallows. In the regime of coercion which has just expired, the whole machinerywas in motion. The last sentence of the law was not resorted to inpolitical offence, for the days of rebellion in the open field hadpassed. But there were the Resident Magistrates ready to do their masterBalfour's bidding, and to send men to imprisonment, in some casesfollowed by bread-and-water discipline--by stripping of clothes andother atrocities, which made the court of the Resident Magistrate theantechamber to the cell, and the cell the antechamber to the tomb. Inall these ghastly and tragic dramas, enacted all over Ireland, Mr. Carson was the chief figure--self-confident, braggart, deliberate--winding the rope around his victim's neck with all theassured certainty of the British Empire, Mr. Balfour and the ResidentMagistrates behind him. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Carson's exterior. ]

Nature has stamped on Mr. Carson's exterior the full proclamation of hischaracter and career. There is something about his appearance and mannerthat somehow or other seems to belong rather to the last than thepresent century. He is a very up-to-date gentleman in every sense of theword--clothes included. But the long, lantern, black-coloured jaws, theprotruding mouth, the cavernous eyes, the high forehead with the haircombed straight back--all seem to suggest that he ought to be wearingthe wig, the queue, and the sword of the eighteenth century. He looks asthough he had come from consultation, not with Mr. Balfour, but LordCastlereagh, and as if the work he were engaged in was the sending ofthe Brothers Sheares to Tyburn, not William O'Brien to Tullamore, and asthough he had stopped up o' nights to go over again the list of theIrishmen that could be bought or bullied, or cajoled into the betrayalof Ireland's Parliament. 

Look at him as he stands at the box. You can see that he has been bredinto almost impudent self-confidence, by those coercion tribunals, inwhich the best men of Ireland lay at the mercy of a creature like Mr. Balfour and the meaner creatures who were ready to do Mr. Balfour'swork. Mr. Carson, not a year in the House, places his hands on the box, then on his hips, with all the airs of a man who had been in Parliamentfor a lifetime--attacks Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Morley, Mr. JusticeMathew--three of the highest-minded and ablest men of their time--asthough he were at Petty Sessions, with Mr. Cecil Roche dispensingjustice. It is an odious sight. It makes even Englishmen shudder. But ithas its uses. It throws on to the floor of the House of Commons with allthe illumination of those great times, the abysses and passions andsinister figures in Ireland's moving tragedy. 

CHAPTER VII. 

A FORTNIGHT OF QUIET WORK. 

[Sidenote: Dulness. ]

The House did very good work during the last fortnight in March. Thishas a corollary more satisfactory to the public than to the journalist;for, whenever business is progressing, it invariably means that theproceedings have been extremely dull. It is a well-known phenomenon ofthe House of Commons, that the moment there is a chance of anything likea personal scene--though the encounter be of the smallest possiblemoment and affect nothing beyond two personalities of no particularimportance--it is well known that whenever such scene is promised, thebenches of the House of Commons prove too small for the huge crowds thatrush to them from all parts. Mr. Fowler introduced one of the mostrevolutionary measures ever brought into the House ofCommons--revolutionary I mean, of course, in the good sense--and yet hedelivered his new gospel of emancipation to a House that at no periodwas in the least crowded, and that was never excited. Happy is thecountry that has no annals, fruitful is the Parliament that has noscenes. 

[Sidenote: Uganda again. ]

But there were signs of something like storm at certain portions of thesitting on March 20th, for there stood on the paper the Estimate whichraised the difficult question of Uganda, and on that question, aseverybody knows, there is a yawning gulf between the opinions of Mr. Labouchere and a number of Radicals below the gangway, and theoccupants of the Treasury Bench. Of Mr. Labouchere the saying may beused, which is often employed with regard to weak men--Mr. Labouchere isfar from a weak man--he is his own worst enemy. His delight inpersiflage, his keen wit--his love of the pose of the bloodless andcynical Boulevardier--have served to conceal from Parliament, andsometimes, perhaps, even from himself, the sincerity of his convictions, and the masculine strength and firmness of his will. Somehow or other, he is least effective when he is most serious. His speech on Uganda, forinstance, was admirably put together, and chock full of facts, sound inargument, and in its seriousness quite equal to the magnitude of theissues which it raised. But no man is allowed to play "out of hispart"--as the German phrase goes. Labby has accustomed the House toexpect amusement from him, and it will not be satisfied unless he givesit. When, therefore, he does make a serious speech, the House insists onconsidering it dull, and rarely lends to him its attentive and seriousear. 

[Sidenote: Which is the buffoon?]

Great and yet fatal is the power of oratory. In the course of this samenight's debate, Mr. Chamberlain also made a speech. During portions ofit he delighted the House, and it was extremely effective as a partyspeech. In the course of his observations, Mr. Chamberlain, alluding tosome jokelet of Labby, declared that a great question like Uganda shouldnot be treated in a spirit of "buffoonery. " That observation was rude, and scarcely Parliamentary. But that is not the point--nobody expectsgentlemanly feeling or speech from Mr. Chamberlain. The point is thatthe observation could have been applied with much more truth to thespeech of Mr. Chamberlain than to that of Labby; for Mr. Chamberlain'sspeech consisted, for the most part, of nothing better than the merestparty hits--the kind of thing that almost anybody could say--thathundreds of journalists nightly write in their party effusions, and forvery modest salaries. But the heart and soul of the question of Ugandawere not even touched by Mr. Chamberlain. Labby may have been right orwrong; but Labby's was a serious speech with a serious purpose. Mr. Chamberlain's speech was just a smart bit of party debating. Thebuffoonery--in the sense of shallowness and emptiness--was really in thespeech that everybody took to be grave. The seriousness was in thespeech which, amid the delighted applause of the Tories, Mr. Chamberlaindenounced as buffoonery. 

[Sidenote: The grip of Labby. ]

In some respects Mr. Labouchere reminds me of the late Mr. Biggar. Underneath all his exterior of carelessness, callousness, and flippancy, there lies a very strong, a very tenacious, and a very clear-sightedman. There are times--especially when the small hours of the morning arebreaking, and Labby is in his most genial mood--when he is ready todeclare that, after all, he is only a Conservative in disguise, and thathis Radicalism is merely put on for the purpose of amusing and catchingthe groundlings. As a matter of fact, Labby is by instinct one of themost thorough Radicals that ever breathed. His Radicalism, it is true, is of the antique pattern. He is an individualist without compromise orconcession. Life to him is to the strongest; he has no faith save in thegospel of the survival of the fittest. Equable and even cheery, he doesnot take a particularly joyous view of human existence. I have heard himspeak of the emptiness and futilities of human existence in tones, notof gloom, for he is too much of a philosopher to indulge in regrets, butwith a hearty sincerity that would do credit to the Trappist monk whofound everything vanity of vanities in a sinful world. Despising honoursand dignities, he positively loathes outward show; he is a Radical byinstinct and nature. Though one of the wealthiest men in the House ofCommons, nobody has over known him guilty of one act of ostentation. Probably he loves power. I have not the smallest doubt that he wouldenjoy very well being a Cabinet Minister. But for social distinction, for the frippery and display of life, he has a positive dislike. He islike Mr. Biggar also in tenacity. 

[Sidenote: And the grit. ]

It must have been a disappointment to him--it was certainly adisappointment to his many friends--that he was not a member of theMinistry which he did so much to bring into existence. But the very daythe House met after the formation of the Government, Labby was in hisold place on the front bench below the gangway as if nothing hadoccurred--just as ready as ever to take his share in the proceedings ofthe House of Commons. And every succeeding evening saw him in hisplace--listening with commendable piety to the exhortations of HolyWrit--given forth in the fine resonant voice of Archdeacon Farrar--readyto seize a point--to take advantage of a situation, eagerly interestedin everything that is going on. Some people may regard this as a verycommon gift. It is nothing of the kind. I know no place in the worldwhich is a severer test of a man's tenacity of purpose, than the Houseof Commons. I suppose it is because we see the men more publicly therethan elsewhere; but I know no place where there are so many ups anddowns of human destiny as in the House of Commons--no place, at allevents, where one is so struck with the changes, and transformations ofhuman destinies. The man who, in one or two Sessions, is on his legsevery moment--who takes a prominent part in every debate--who has becomeone of the notabilities of the House--in a year or two's time has sunkto a silent dweller apart from all the eagerness and fever of debate, sinks into melancholy and listlessness, and is almost dead before he hasgiven up his Parliamentary life. Staying power is the rarest of allParliamentary powers; Labby has plenty of staying power. 

[Sidenote: Sir Charles Dilke. ]

Another figure which the new House of Commons is gradually beginning tounderstand is Sir Charles Dilke. He is one of the men who seem to haveno interest in life outside politics. When one thinks that he haswealth, an immense number of subjects in which he can find instructionand occupation, that he is familiar with the languages, literature, andlife of several countries, it is hard to understand how he could havehad the endurance to go through the hurricane of abuse and persecutionwhich he has had to encounter in the last seven years. There are tracesin his face of the intense mental suffering through which he has passed;there are more lines about the eyes than should be in the case of a manwho is just fifty. But, otherwise, he positively looks younger than hedid when he was a Cabinet Minister. There is colour where there used tobe nothing but deadly pallor--freshness where the long and terribledrudgery of official life had left a permanent look of fag andweariness. Sir Charles Dilke has taken up the broken thread of his lifejust as if nothing had occurred in that long period of exile andsuffering. He is never out of his place: attends every sitting asconscientiously as if he were in office and responsible for everythingthat is going on; and has his eye on subjects as wide apart as theparish councils and Newfoundland, army reform and the occupation ofUganda. It is curious to see, too, how he is regaining that ascendancyover the House of Commons which he exercised formerly. It is anascendancy not due in the least to oratorical power. Sir Charles Dilkenever made a fine sentence or a sonorous peroration in his whole life. It is that power of acquiring all the facts of the case--of beingthoroughly up in all its merits--in short, of knowing hisbusiness--which impresses the House of Commons, which, after all, thoughit may cheer the gibes of a smart and pert debater like Mr. Chamberlain, is most happy when it hears a man talking of something which heunderstands thoroughly. 

[Sidenote: Joe as a Jingo. ]

Mr. Chamberlain spoke, as I have said, in the debate. It was a verycharacteristic speech. I know people think I am prejudiced about thisgentleman. Not in the least. I recognize that he has many splendidqualities for political life. They are not qualities which I thinkhighest either in the oratorical or the intellectual sense. He also hasstaying power, and has gone through seven terrible years. There is thetrace of all the bitterness of that struggle in his face--which has lostin these years the almost boyish freshness of expression and outline, which bears in every deep line a mark of the ferocity of the passions bywhich his breast has been torn. He is one of the many men in the Houseof Commons that give one the impression of being hunted by the worst andmost pitiless of all furies--violent personal passion--especially forpower, for triumph, for revenge. But still, there he is--ready as everto take part in the struggle--still holding the position he held sevenyears ago--with no sign of weakening or repentance, though there beplenty of the hunger of baulked revenge. 

[Sidenote: The tragedy of politics. ]

What a pity it is we can't see some of those great political figures inthe nudity of their souls. They must have many a bitter moment--many anhour of dark and hopeless depression--probably far more than other men;for them emphatically life is a conflict and a struggle. And theconflict and the struggle often kill them long before their time. Wasthere ever anything much more tragic than the cry of M. Ferry for "legrand Repos, " as he lay stifling from the weakening heart which thebullet of a political enemy and the slings and arrows of years ofcalumny and persecution had at last broken? To any man with ordinarysensitiveness of nerves, a political career is a crucifixion--many timesrepeated. But Mr. Chamberlain, probably, has not the ordinarysensitiveness of nerves. Combative, masterful, with narrow andconcentrated purpose, he pursues the game of politics--not withoutaffliction, but with persistent tenacity and a courage that have rarelyshown any signs of faltering or failing. 

All these things must be granted to Mr. Chamberlain; but when I come tospeak of him intellectually, I cannot see anything in him but a veryperky, smart, glib-tongued "drummer, " who is able to pick up the crumbsof knowledge with extraordinary rapidity, and give them forth againwith considerable dexterity. He speech on Uganda, so far as its thoughtand its phraseology were concerned, was on the level of the profoundutterances with which Sir Ashmead Bartlett tickles and infuriates thegroundlings of provincial audiences. But it took the House--at least, ittook the Tories; and, after all, what party orators who have not theresponsibilities of office have to do, is to get cheers and embarrassthe Government. 

[Sidenote: Another hymn to the G. O. M. ]

The reader must not be either exasperated or bored if he findscontinuous mention of the G. O. M. In these pages, for he is, to a greatextent, the House of Commons. I remember hearing Mrs. Gladstone once useof her distinguished husband a phrase which gave tersely and simply acomplete idea of a side of his character. It was just before hishistoric visit to Birmingham, and there was anxiety as to the vast sizeof the great Bingley Hall in which it had been decided he was to speak. "He has such heart, " said Mrs. Gladstone of her husband--meaning thatwhatever was the size of the hall, he would do his best, at whatevercost, to fill it with his voice. It is this mighty heart of his whichcarries him through everything, and which largely accounts for the holdhe has over the imaginations and hearts of the masses. Well, one can seeproof of this in his conduct whenever he is leader of a Government. Other Prime Ministers and leaders of the House are only too willing toleave as much of the work as possible to their subordinates. Disraeliused to lie in Oriental calm during the greater part of every sitting, leaving all his lieutenants to do the drudgery while he dosed and posed. Not so Gladstone. He is almost literally always on his legs. The biggestbore--the rudest neophyte--the most gulping obstructive is certain of ananswer from him--courteous, considerate, and ample. No debate, howeversmall, is too petty for his notice and intervention; in short, he triesto do not only his own work, but everybody else's. 

[Sidenote: His justification. ]

I have once or twice gently suggested that I thought the G. O. M. Mightleave a little more to his subordinates, and spare that frame and mindwhich bears the Atlantean burden of the Home Rule struggle. But Mr. Gladstone is able to unexpectedly justify himself when his friends arecrying out in remonstrance; and it is, too, one of the peculiarities ofthis extraordinary portent of a man--extraordinary physically as much asmentally--that the more he works, the fresher and happier he seems tobe. If you see him peculiarly light-hearted; if he be gesticulating withbroad and generous sweep on the Treasury Bench; if he be whispering toSir William Harcourt, and then talking almost aloud to Mr. JohnMorley--above all, if he be ready to meet all comers, you may be quitesure that he has just delivered a couple of rattling and lengthyspeeches, in which, with his deadly skill and perfect temper, he hasdevastated the whole army of false arguments with which his opponentshave invaded him. So, for instance, it was on March 28th. It was noticedthat he was not in the House for some hours during the discussion of theVote on Account. But, as evening approached, there he was in hisplace--fresh, smiling, happy, every limb moving with all the alertnessof auroral youth. In the interval between his first appearance in theHouse and then later, he had delivered two lengthy speeches to twodeputations of deadly foes; but he came down after this exertion just asif he had been playing a game of cricket, and had taken enough physicalexercise to bring blitheness to his spirits and alacrity to his limbs. 

[Sidenote: His unending progress. ]

And then the best of it all is that Mr. Gladstone justifies hisspeech-making by improving every hour. It would scarcely seem crediblethat a man with more than half-a-century of speech-making and triumphsbehind him would have been capable of making any change, and especiallyof making a change for the better. But the peculiarity of Mr. Gladstoneis that even as a speaker he grows and improves every day. I have beenwatching him closely now for some sixteen years in the House of Commons, and I thought that it was impossible for him to ever reach again thetriumphs of some of his utterances. I have heard people say, too, thatthey felt it pathetic to hear him deliver his speech on the introductionof the Home Rule Bill, and to remember the vigour with which hisutterances on that occasion stood in such a contrast. This wassuperficial and false criticism. It is quite true that the old resonanceof the voice is not there, and it is true that now and then he showssigns of physical fatigue, and that recently after his cold there weresome days when his voice was little better than a very distinct, butalso a very pathetic, whisper. But there is another side. Age hasmellowed his style, so that now he can speak on even the mostcontentious subject with a gentleness and a freedom from anything likevenom--with an elevation of tone--that make it almost impossible foreven his bitterest opponent to listen to him without delight and, forthe moment at least, with a certain degree of assent. If anybody reallywishes to find out what constitutes the highest and most effective formof House of Commons' eloquence, he should spend his days in listening toMr. Gladstone in the most recent style he has adopted in the House ofCommons. And the lessons to be derived are that House of Commons'eloquence should be easy, genial in temper, reserved in force--in short, that it should put things with the agreeable candour, andpassionlessness want of exaggeration which characterise well-bredconversation. 

[Sidenote: To the slaughter. ]

A foredoomed sheep could not have been brought more unwillingly to theslaughter than was Mr. Balfour to the debate on the Vote of Censure. Hehad nothing new to say, and unfortunately he felt that as keenly asanybody else. Every single topic with which he had to deal had beendiscussed already, until people were positively sick of them--in short, poor Mr. Balfour was in the position of having to serve up to the Housea dish that had been boiled and grilled and stewed, and yet stewedagain, until the gorge rose at it in revolt and disgust. The late ChiefSecretary has the susceptibility of all nervous temperaments. The menare indeed few who have equal power with all kinds of audiences--with anaudience that is friendly and that is hostile. Still more rare is it tofind a man who can face an audience even worse than a downright hostileone, and that is an audience which is indifferent, There are very fewmen I have known in my Parliamentary experience who could do it. 

[Sidenote: A memory of Parnell. ]

Mr. Parnell was one. I have seen him speak quite comfortably to anaudience which consisted of himself, Mr. Biggar, the Minister inattendance, and the Speaker of the House--in all, four, includinghimself. Indeed, he often said to me that he rather liked to have suchan audience. Speaking was not easy or agreeable to him, and his solepurpose for many years in speaking at all was to consume so much time. Parnell was a man who always found it rather hard to concentrate hismind on any subject unless he was alone and in silence. This was perhapsone of the many reasons why he kept out of the House of Commons as muchas he could. Anything like noise or disturbance around him seemed todestroy his power of thinking. For instance, when he was beingcross-examined by Sir Richard Webster in the course of the ForgeriesCommission, his friends trembled one day because, looking at his face, with its puzzled, far-away look, they knew that he was in one of thosemoods of abstraction, during which he was scarcely accountable for whathe said. And sure enough he made on that day the appalling statementthat he had used certain language for the purpose of deceiving the Houseof Commons. He said to me that he liked to speak in an empty Housebecause then he had time to collect his thoughts. Joe Biggar, hisassociate, was also able to speak in any circumstances with exactly thesame ease of spirit. To him, speaking was but a means to an end, andwhether people listened to him or not--stopped to hang on his words orfled before his grating voice and Ulster accent--it was all one to him. Two other men have the power of speaking always with the same interestand self-possession. These are Sir Charles Dilke and Mr. O'Connor Power. 

[Sidenote: The Sensitiveness of Mr. Balfour. ]

But Mr. Balfour is like none of these men. He requires the glow of agood audience--of a cheering party--of the certainty of success in thedivision lobby--to bring out his best powers. The splendid, rattling, self-confident debater of the coercion period now no longer exists, andMr. Balfour has positively gone back to the clumsiness, stammering, andineffectiveness of the pre-historic period of his life before he hadtaken up the Chief Secretaryship. That was bad enough; but what is worseis that the House is beginning to feel it. If you lose confidence inyourself, the world is certain to pretty soon follow your example. Andso it is now with Mr. Balfour, for when he stood up to speak on March27th there was the sight--which must have made his soul sink to evenprofounder depths of depression--of members leaving the House in troopsand rushing to the lobby, the library, or the smoke-room, rather thanlisten to a debater whose rise a few months ago would have meant ageneral and excited incursion of everybody that could hear. Startingthus, Mr. Balfour made the worst of a bad case, his speech was afailure, and as the American would put it, a fizzle; in short, a ghastlybusiness. 

[Sidenote: The G. O. M. 's outburst. ]

It was in the midst of this debate that Mr. Gladstone made hismagnificent and unexpected outburst. He had been paying attention to thedebate--but very quietly, and not at all in a way that suggested an ideaof intervening in it. It was, too, about nine o'clock when Mr. Gladstonestood up, and anybody acquainted with the House of Commons knows thatnine o'clock is in the very crisis of that dinner hour which nightlymakes the House of Commons a waste and a wilderness. Nor, indeed, wasthere much in the opening sentences that seemed to indicate thefact--the great fact--that the House of Commons was about to listen toone of the most extraordinary manifestations of eloquence it has everheard during its centuries of existence. For the Old Man was in his mostbenignant mood. He spoke of his opponents and their case in sorrowrather than in anger. Evidently, the House was about to listen to one ofthose delightful little addresses--half paternal, half pedagogic--towhich it has become accustomed in recent years, since Mr. Gladstonethrew off the fierce, warring spirit of earlier days, and became thehoney-tongued Nestor of the assembly. But, as time went on, the Housebegan to perceive that the Old Man was in splendid fighting trim, andseized with one of those moments of positive inspiration, in which hecarries away an assembly as though it were floated into Dreamland on thewaves of a mighty magician's magic power. Smash after smash came uponthe Tory case--as though you could see the whole edifice crumblingbefore your eyes, as though it were an earthquake slitting the rocks andshaking the solid earth. And, all the time, no loss whatever of themassive calm, the imperturbable good-humour, the deadly politeness whichthe commercial gentlemen from Ulster have also found can kill moreeffectively than the shout of rhetoric, or the jargon of faction, or theraucous throat of bigotry. 

[Sidenote: In the Empyrean. ]

At last the Old Man had come to a contrast between the action of theTory Government of 1885 and the Liberal with regard to the treatment ofprisoners in Ireland. The history of that period is one upon which Mr. Gladstone is now able to speak without feeling; but he dragged out fromthat period and its hidden recesses the whole story of the negotiationsbetween Parnell and Lord Carnarvon, and all the other circumstances thatmake that one of the most remarkable epochs in the history of Englishparties. He was now sweeping all before him. This Lord Randolph felt, and it was almost timorously he rose to make an interruption. The OldMan courteously gave way; but it was only to jump up again and pour onhis young opponent a tide of ridicule and answer which overwhelmed him. Higher and higher he soared with every succeeding moment, and strangerand more impressive became the aspect of the House. There is nothingwhich becomes that assembly so much as those moments of exaltationduring which it is under the absolute spell of some great master of itsemotions. Then a death-like stillness falls upon it--you can almost hearthe same heavy-drawn sighs as those that in a Paris opera-house tell ofall the passion, the flood of memory and regret, and the dreams whichare evoked by the voice of a Marguerite before her final expiation--of aJuliet before her final immolation. Laughter and cheers there were inabundance during this portion of Mr. Gladstone's speech; but the generaldemeanour was one of deadly stillness and rapt emotion--the stillnessone can imagine on that Easter morning when De Quincey went forth andwashed the fever from his forehead with the dew of early day. 

[Sidenote: An episode. ]

And in the midst of it all there came one of the most pathetic littleepisodes I have seen in the House of Commons of recent years. Mr. Gladstone has somewhat changed his habits in one respect. There was atime when he rarely came to the House to deliver a great speech withouta little bottle--such as one sees containing pomade on thedressing-table of the thin-haired bachelor. Of late, the pomade-bottlehas disappeared. The G. O. M. Is now content to take the ordinary glass ofwater. It is very seldom that he requires even that amount of sustenanceduring his great speeches. However, he had been doing a good deal thatday--he had already made a long speech to his supporters in the ForeignOffice--and he required a glass of water. He called out for it, and, atonce, there was a rush from the Treasury Bench to the lobby outside. But, before this could be done, the very pleasant little episode towhich I have alluded took place. There stood opposite Mr. Jackson, thelate Chief Secretary, an untouched glass of water. When he heard thecry of the Old Man, Mr. Jackson--who has plenty of Yorkshire kindliness, as well as Yorkshire bluffness--at once took up the glass that stoodbefore him, and handed it across the table. With a bow, and a delightedand delightful smile, the Old Man took the glass, and drank almostgreedily. And then, turning to his opponents, he said, "I wish the righthon. Gentleman who uses me so kindly, were as willing to take from myfountainhead as I am from his. " The grace, the courtesy, the readinesswith which it was said, took the House by storm, and it was hard to saywhether the delighted laughter and cheers came in greater volume fromthe Tory or the Liberal side of the House. 

[Sidenote: The peroration. ]

And Mr, Gladstone's power increased with his power over the House. Itlooked as if you were watching some mighty monarch of the air that risesand rises higher, higher into the empyrean on slow-poised, even almostmotionless, wing. Leaving behind the narrow issues of the particularmotion before the House, Mr. Gladstone entered on a rapid survey of themournful and touching relations between English officialism and IrishNational sentiment. From the dead past, he called up the touching, beautiful, and sympathetic figure of Thomas Drummond, and all hisefforts to reconcile the administration of the law with the rights andsentiments of the Irish people. The time for cheering had passed. Allanybody could do was to listen in spellbound silence, as sonoroussentence rolled after sonorous sentence. And then cams the end, in asofter and lower key. It was a direct personal allusion to Mr. Morley. It was the whole weight of the Government and of its head thrown to theside of the Chief Secretary in the new policy in Ireland. "We claim, "said Mr. Gladstone, "to be partakers of his responsibility, we appeal tothe judgment of the House of Commons, and we have no other desire exceptto share his fate. " And then a hurricane of applause. 

[Sidenote: A first experience. ]

It was impossible not to feel sympathy for Lord Randolph Churchill inthe difficult task of following such a speech. The first thing he had todo was to bear testimony to the extraordinary effect the speech had madeupon the House of Commons. It was, he said, a speech "impressive andentrancing"--two most happily-chosen epithets to describe it. And thenLord Randolph told a little bit of personal history which wasinteresting. In all his Parliamentary career, this was the first time hehad been called upon to immediately follow a speech of Mr. Gladstone. Hewould willingly have abandoned the opportunity, for it was a speechwhich no man in the House of Commons was capable of confronting. Afterit, everything else was bound to fall flat, dull, and unimpressive. LordRandolph had the misfortune of having prepared a speech of considerablelength--going into the dead past, forgotten things, and foundhimself--almost for the first time in his life--incapable of holding theattention of the House of Commons. Then the division followed, with 47of a majority--and loud ringing cheers came from the friends of theGovernment--and especially from the Irish benches--represented in thedivision by every single member of the party, with the exception of one, absent on sick leave. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM. 

[Sidenote: Still holiday-making. ]

The Easter holidays were slow in coming to an end. People who werefortunate enough to obtain pairs, lingered by the seaside or in thecountry house. Others were busy with the work which the recess nowimposes as much as in the most feverish Parliamentary times on leadingpolitical men. Mr. Balfour was away in Ireland, among the Orangemen ofUlster and the Loyalists of Dublin; Lord Randolph Churchill was atLiverpool making silly and violent speeches; Mr. Chamberlain was_colloguing_--to use an excellent Irish phrase--with the publicans ofthe Midlands. The Irish were especially conspicuous by the smallness oftheir attendance. They had been months away from business, wives, children, and naturally they were anxious to take advantage of the briefbreathing space which was left to them before that time came when theycould not leave Westminster for a moment in the weeks during which theHome Rule Bill was in Committee!

[Sidenote: Return of the G. O. M. ]

Mr. Gladstone, of course, was in his place. Down in Brighton, in apot-hat, antediluvian in age and shape, he had been courting the breezeof the sea under the hospitable wing of Mr. Armitstead; escaping fromthe crowds of hero-worshippers, and attending divine service sometimestwice in the same day. He had not been idle in his temporary retreat. When the day comes to record his doings before the accurate scales ofOmnipotent and Omniscient Justice, he will stand out from all other menin the absolute use of every available second of his days of life. Itwas clear that during his retreat, as during his hours of official work, his mind had been busy on the same absorbing and engrossing subject. Hewas armed with a considerable manuscript, and had evidently thought outhis sentences, his arguments, his statements of facts with intensedevotion and thought. 

This is one of the things which distinguishes him from other public menof his time. There are men I wot of--and not very big men either--whoare nothing without their audience. They deem their dignity abused ifthere be not the crowded bench, the cheering friends, the prominent andostentatious place. Not so Mr. Gladstone. Perhaps it is the splendidrobustness of his nerves, perhaps the absorption in his subject to theforgetfulness of himself; whatever it is, he faces this small, _distrait_, perhaps even depressed, audience with the same zest asthough he were once again before that splendid gathering which met hiseyes on the memorable night when he brought in his Home Rule Bill. Whobut he could fail to have noticed the contrast, and noticing, who but hecould remain so loftily unobservant and unimpressed?

[Sidenote: In splendid form. ]

But then Mr. Gladstone has too much of that splendid oratorical instinctnot to fashion and shape his speech to the change in the surroundings. He has an impressionability--not to panic, not to depression, not towounded vanity, but to the appropriateness and the demands of anenvironment, which is something miraculous. I have already remarked, that the infinite variety of his oratory is Shakespearian in itscompleteness and abundance. The speech on April 6th was an additionalproof of this. Comparisons were naturally made between this speech andthe speech by which he introduced the Bill, and everybody who wascompetent thought that the second speech was the finer and better of thetwo. Stories have trickled through to the public of the anxieties andworries with which Mr. Gladstone was confronted--not from the Irishside--on the very night before he had to bring forth this prodigiouspiece of legislative work. It is these small worries that to manyStatesmen are the grimmest realities and the most momentous andeffective events of their inner lives. It is reported that one of thefew sleepless nights which have ever disturbed the splendidly even andsane and healthy tenor of this tempestuous and incessantly active life, was the night before the introduction of the Home Rule Bill. There arepoints to be finally settled--clauses to be ultimately fixed--phrases tobe polished or pared at the eleventh hour in all human affairs. Measuresfinally settled and fixed for weeks before the last hour exist--like allperfection--only in the brains and pages of dramatists and novelists. 

[Sidenote: Sunburnt, vigorous, self-possessed. ]

It was not unnatural under these circumstances that when Mr. Gladstonemade his speech introducing the Home Rule Bill there should have been onhis cheek a pallor deadlier even than that which usually sits upon hisbrow. That pallor, by the way, I heard recently, has been characteristicof him from his earliest years. A schoolfellow from that far-off andalmost pre-historic time when our Grand Old Man was a thin, slim, introspective and prematurely serious boy at Eton, tells to-day that therecollection he has of the young Gladstone is of a slight figure, neverrunning, but always walking with a fast step, with earnest black eyes, and with a pallid face--the ivory pallor, be it observed, not ofdelicacy, but of robustness. Still there was on that Home Rule night, apallor that had the deadlier hue of sleeplessness, worry, over-anxiety--the hideous burden of a great, weighty, and complex speechto deliver. 

On April 6th all this was gone. The fresh, youthful, cheerful man whostood up in his place had drunk deep of the breezes that sweep TheFront at Brighton; his cheeks were burned by the blaze of a splendidspring sun; in the budding, blossoming vital air around him he had takensome of that eternal hopefulness with which the new birth of nature inthe spring inspires every human being with any freshness of sensationleft. Perchance from his windows in the Lion Mansion he had looked inthe evening over the broad expanse of frontierless waters, and risen tothe exaltation of the chainless unrest, the tireless and eternal youth, the illimitable breadth of the sea. At all events, he stood before theHouse visibly younger, brighter, serener than for many a day. 

The voice bore traces of the transformation of body and soul which thisshort visit to the sea has produced. It was soft, mellow, strong. Therewere none of the descents to pathetic and inaudible whispers whichoccasionally in the hours of fag and fatigue have painfully impressedthe sympathetic hearer. As Mr. Gladstone subdued himself to the temperof the House, the House accommodated itself to the tone of Mr. Gladstone. I have heard his speech on the second reading described as apleasant, delightful, historical lecture. Certainly, no stranger comingto the House would have imagined that these sentences, flowing in abeautiful, even stream, dealt with one of the conflicts of our timewhich excite the fiercest passion and bitterest blood. It is thiscalmness that is now part of Mr. Gladstone's strength. It soothes andkills at the same time. 

[Sidenote: The Nestor-patriot. ]

The evening was soft and sunny, the air of the House subdued, and theabsence of anything like large numbers prevented outbursts of partypassion. And yet all this seemed to heighten the effectiveness of thescene and the speech. Once again one had to think of Mr. Gladstone--asposterity will think of him at this splendid epoch of his career--not asthe party politician, giving and receiving hard blows--riding awhirlwind of passion--facing a hurricane of hate--but as theNestor-patriot of his country, telling all parties alike the gospel thatwill lead to peace, prosperity, and contentment. The Tories, doubtless, see none of this; but even they cannot help falling into the mood of thehour, and under the fascination of the speaker. Now and then theyinterrupt, but, as a rule, they sit in respectful and awed silence. Whenever they do venture on interruption, the old lion shows that he isstill in possession of all that power for a sudden and deadly spring, which lies concealed under the easy and tranquil strength of the hour. He happens to mention the case of Norway and Sweden as one of the caseswhich confirm his contention that autonomy produces friendly relations. He has to confess, that in this case some difficulties have arisen;there is a faint Tory cheer. At once--but with gentle good humour--withan indulgent smile--Mr. Gladstone remarks that he doesn't wonder thatthe Tories clutch at the smallest straw that helps them to eke out acase against autonomy, and then he proceeds to show that even the caseof Norway and Sweden doesn't help them a bit. 

[Sidenote: A vivid gesture. ]

There is another little touch which will bring out the perfection andbeauty of the speech. One of the things which tell the experiencedobserver that Mr. Gladstone is in his best form, is the exuberance andfreedom of his gesture. Whenever he feels a thorough grip of himself andof the House, he lets himself go in a way upon which he does not venturein quieter moods. He was dealing with the question of our colonies andof the difference which had been made in them by the concession of HomeRule. It was while thus engaged that he made one of those eloquentlittle asides, which bring home to the mind the vastness and extent ofthis great career. Nearly sixty years ago--just think of it, nearlysixty years ago--he had been associated with the Government of theColonies--referring to the time when Lord Aberdeen was his chief, and heheld office for the first time as an Under-Secretary. And then he madefrom Lord Aberdeen a quotation in which the Colonial Secretary callsdelighted attention to the fact that Heligoland is tranquil--the singleone of all the dependencies of the Crown of which that could be said atthat moment. 

But it was not at this point that the significant gesture came in, towhich I have alluded. Mr. Gladstone had another document to read. By theway--even over the distance which divides the Treasury Bench from theOpposition Benches below the gangway, where we Irishry sit--I could seethat the document was written in that enormous hand-writing, which isnecessary nowadays when the sight of the Prime Minister is not equal tothe undimmed lustre of the eagle eye. This letter, said Mr. Gladstone, was not addressed to him. It was not addressed to a Home Ruler. By thistime, curiosity was keenly excited. But Mr. Gladstone--smiling, holdingthe House in firm attention and rapt admiration--was determined to playwith the subject a little longer. The letter was not directed even tothe Commoner. It was directed to a "Peer;" and as he uttered this sacredword, with a delicious affectation of reverence, he raised the indexfinger of his hand to high heaven, as though only a reference to aregion so exalted could sufficiently manifest the elevation of thepersonage who had been the recipient of the letter. The House saw thepoint, and laughed in great delight. It is on occasions like these thatone sees the immense artistic power which lies under all the seriousnessand gravity of Mr. Gladstone--the thorough exuberance of vitality whichmarks the splendid sanity of his healthy nature. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Birrell. ]

I always tremble when I see a literary man, and especially a literaryman with a high reputation, rise to address the House of Commons. Theshores of that cruel assembly are strewn with the wrecks of literaryreputations. It was, therefore, not without trepidation that I saw Mr. Augustin Birrell--one of the very finest writers of our time--succeed incatching the Speaker's eye. My misgivings were entirely unnecessary. With perfect ease and self-possession--at the same time with the modestyof real genuine ability--Mr. Birrell made one of the happiest and bestspeeches of the debate. Now and then, the epigram was perhaps a littletoo polished--the wit perhaps a trifle too subtle for the House ofCommons. But careful preparation always involves this; and every manmust prepare until he is able to think more clearly on his legs thansitting down. It was just the kind of speech which was wanted at amoment when the general air is rent with the rhodomontade and tomfooleryof Ulster. Applying to these wild harangues the destructively quiet witof _obiter dicta_, Mr. Birrell made the Orangemen look very foolish andutterly ridiculous. Mr, Gladstone was one of Mr. Birrell's mostattentive and cordial hearers. Mr. Birrell is going to do great thingsin the House of Commons. 

[Sidenote: In penal servitude. ]

The keen, playful, and penetrating wit of Mr. Birrell did not doanything for Mr. Dunbar Barton. Mr. Barton is--as he properlyboasted--the descendant of some of that good Protestant stock that, inthe days of the fight over the destruction of the Irish Parliament, stood by the liberties of Ireland. He is a nephew of Mr. Plunket--heinherits the talent which is traditional in the Plunket family, and issaid not to be without some of the national spirit that still hidesitself in odd nooks and corners of estranged Irish minds. But he hasnone of the saving grace of his country or family. A solemn voice thatseems to come from the depths of some divine despair, and from therecesses of his innermost organs, together with a certain funerealaspect in the close-shaven face, gives him an air that suggests thecypress and the cemetery. But with deadly want of humour, he spoke ofthe possibility of his spending the remainder of a blameless life inpenal servitude, and was deeply wounded when the uproarious andirreverent House refused to take the possibility seriously. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Stansfeld. ]

The following Friday was made memorable by a fine speech from Mr. Stansfeld. Full of activity, with undimmed eye, with every mentalfaculty keen and alert, with every lofty and generous aspiration asfresh as in the days of hot and perilous youth, Mr. Stansfeld yetappears something of a survival in the House of Commons. His appearance, his style of speech, even the framework of his thought, seem to belongto another--in some respects a finer and more passionate period than ourown. The long hair combed straight back--the strong aquiline nose--theheavy-lined and sensitive mouth--the subdued tenderness and wrath of theeyes--even the somewhat antique cut of the clothes--suggest the dayswhen the storm and stress of the youthful century were still in men'ssouls, and were driving them to conspiracy, to prison, to scaffold, tobarricades, to bloody fields. There is also a deliberation in thedelivery--a sonorousness in the phraseology--that has something of abygone day. But all this adds to the impressiveness of the address. Thefervour is all there, the unalterable conviction, the lofty purpose. There is reason for the warm note of welcome which comes from the Irishbenches; for this man--perhaps disappointed--perchance not too wellused--stands up to defend his principles with the same utterforgetfulness of self which belongs only to the finest and the truestnatures. 

[Sidenote: Commercial culture. ]

Mr. Chamberlain has not a wide range of ideas, and his small stock hasnot been increased by anything like extensive reading. The House wasrelieved to find after his return to Westminster on the 10th of Aprilthat he had just begun to read Tennyson. It is always easy to know whenMr. Chamberlain is making the acquaintance of an author for the firsttime. Strictly business-like in even his reading, he apparently firstthinks of reading a book when he has somewhere seen a quotation from itwhich might be worked into a speech; the next and almost immediateprocess is to transfer it to one of his speeches. This is one of themany differences between him and the exhaustless brain and universalreading of Mr. Gladstone. It was, therefore, not much of a surprise tothose who had watched Mr. Chamberlain for years, to see that he wasmaking a very bad and poor speech on the second reading of the HomeRule Bill--a speech certainly far inferior to that which he haddelivered on the first reading. He had exhausted the poor soil; he hadreally no more to say. He was unfortunately helped by Mr. Gladstone, who, instead of listening in silence to attacks grown stale by theirinfinite repetition, attempted to correct some of Mr. Chamberlain'sstatements. This was especially the case in reference to the famousspeech in which Mr. Parnell is spoken of as passing "through rapine todismemberment. " Mr. Chamberlain wished to insist that the language hadbeen applied to all the Irish leaders: Mr. Gladstone insisted that theywere applied to Mr. Parnell alone. This controversy between the PrimeMinister and Mr. Chamberlain gave a little life to a speech thathitherto had been falling desperately flat, and as such the interruptionwas a tactical mistake. 

[Sidenote: De mortuis. ]

But it brought with curious unexpectedness a scene not without pathosand significance. In the midst of the thrust and ripost of Mr. Gladstoneand Mr. Chamberlain, a strange and yet familiar voice was heard to shoutout, "They put all the blame on Parnell because he is dead. " It was astartling--even an embarrassing interruption. The memory of Parnell isstill dear to the vast majority of the old comrades who were compelledto separate themselves from him in the Great Irish Disruption. At thetime when Mr. Gladstone made the speech quoted, Mr. Parnell was theloved leader of the whole Irish people and a united Irish party; and thespeech was made at a moment particularly solemn and glorious in thestrange life and career of Parnell. The great controversy between theEnglish and the Irish leader, which Mr. Chamberlain had raked up fromthe almost forgotten past, took place at the moment when Mr. Parnell hadgone from town to town and county to county in Ireland, in the midst ofvast and enthusiastic receptions--imperial demonstrations--with salvoesof cheers, enthusiasm, and auroral hope such as have taken place sooften in Irish history on the eve of some mighty victory or hideousdisaster. And, then, immediately after came Parnell's imprisonment, which he bore so well--the suppression of the National Land League, andthe era of unchecked and ferocious coercion in which the good intentionsand kindly feelings of Mr. Forster finally were buried. To separatethemselves from Mr. Parnell at that great moment in his and their life, was a thing which none of Parnell's old comrades could do; and when thisstartling interruption came, it was the spoken utterance of many oftheir thoughts brought back by Mr. Chamberlain's venomous tongue inpainful reverie over a glorious but dead moment, and a tragicallywrecked and superb career. 

[Sidenote: Crocodile tears. ]

There was a painful pause, and then came, however, an antidote. It wasnot in the Irish Nationalist party--it was not in even his owncolleagues in the small band of Parnell's supporters, that Mr. Redmond'sobservation found a responsive echo. A tempest of cheers broke forthfrom the Tory Benches--from the backers of the _Times_ and thesupporters of Piggott; and to add to the painful and almost hideousirony of the situation, Mr. Chamberlain made unctuous profession ofsympathy with the vindication of Parnell's memory. To those who knowthat of all the fierce animosities and contempts of Parnell, Mr. Chamberlain's was perhaps the fiercest--to those who remember thatstrange and almost awful scene when Mr. Parnell--in one of thoseoutbursts of concentrated rage which it was almost appalling towitness--turned and rent Mr. Chamberlain as first false to hiscolleagues and then false to Parnell himself--to those who rememberedthat deadly pallor that made even more ghastly the ordinarily pale cheekof Mr. Chamberlain beneath this withering attack--to those, I say, whoremembered all this, nothing could be more grotesque than Mr. Chamberlain shedding a pious tear over Parnell's grave. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Gladstone and Parnell. ]

The situation passed off, but in many breasts it had left its sadnessand its sting behind. And then it was that once more the Old Manbrought back the House to the temper from which it had been carried bythe malignities of Mr. Chamberlain. Very pale, very calm, and, at thesame time, with evident though sternly repressed emotion--even in thevery height and ecstasy of Parliamentary passion there is a splendidcomposure and self-command about Mr. Gladstone that conveys anoverwhelming sense of the extraordinary masculinity and strength of hisnature--very pale, and very calm, Mr. Gladstone stood up. Speaking inlow and touching tones he asked to make an explanation, because hefeared that some observations of his might have given pain to gentlemenwho were deeply attached to the memory of Mr. Parnell. Then he statedthat while he had formed an opinion, which might be right or wrong, withregard to Mr. Parnell before his imprisonment in Kilmainham, he hadalways believed, after his release, that Mr. Parnell was workinghonestly for the good of Ireland; that he had made a communication toMr. Parnell to that effect through a friend; and that from that timeforward no hard word could be found in his speeches with regard to theIrish leader. This little speech was uttered with exquisite dignity andkindliness, and Mr. Redmond received it with the handsomestacknowledgment of its gentleness and grace. 

[Sidenote: No manipulating. ]

This episode has made me anticipate a little, and almost tempted me topass by one of the incidents in the speech of Mr. Chamberlain. But thatwould have been a mistake, for it is an incident that brings out fullythe reason why he is so utterly disliked and distrusted even in thoseTory circles which, for the moment, are making use of him. It is anincident that likewise throws a flood of light upon the inner, hidden, dark depths of his sinister nature. He was arguing on the financialaspects of Mr. Gladstone's Bill. Under this portion of the Bill thetrader who has residences in both countries is entitled to make hisreturn for his income-tax in either England or Ireland. Mr. Chamberlainproceeded to put the case of a trader in that position who wished toembarrass the Irish Government, and who would wish accordingly to giveEngland, and not the Irish Exchequer, the advantage of his income-tax. This he could do, Mr. Chamberlain pointed out, in the easiest mannerimaginable; he could "manipulate his books. " There it stands; these arethe very words he used. Incredible, everybody would say who didn't knowMr. Chamberlain, and wasn't told by the evidence of eyes and ears thatthe words had actually been uttered. The Irish members were not slow toseize the point, and to shout aloud at this revelation of Mr. Chamberlain's nature; and even his Tory friends shuddered at such amanifestation of the real kind of man that lies hidden under Mr. Chamberlain's oily and smooth exterior. At first, he seemed surprised atthe visible shock and tremor and involuntary sense of repulsion whichthis odious suggestion awakened on all sides--then he slowly realizedthat he had made a mistake; and, for once, this readiest of debaters wasnonplussed, and even a little abashed. 

[Sidenote: The Irish Members and the Bill. ]

Mr. MacCarthy followed Mr. Chamberlain; he spoke just from ten tofifteen minutes--plainly, simply, to the point, and what he had to saywas that he and his friends did look on this Bill as a final settlement, which Ireland would be honourably pledged to carry out. Unselfish, straightforward, unpretentious, kindly, Mr. MacCarthy brought into morevivid contrast the personal venom--the ruthless hunger for vengeance andthe humiliation of his enemies--which came out with almost painfulvividness from the speech to which we had just ceased to listen. Mr. Gladstone, sitting opposite, attentive and watchful, was evidently muchpleased at the heartiness of Mr. MacCarthy's acceptance of his greatmeasure. 

[Sidenote: Sir George Trevelyan. ]

The night wound up with the very best speech I have ever heard SirGeorge Trevelyan deliver. Sir George had to answer violent, fierce, almost malignant assault; but he did so without ever uttering a harshword--without losing one particle of his courteous and admirableself-control--he raised the debate of a great issue to the high place ofdifference of principles and convictions, instead of personal bickeringsand hideous and revolting personal animosities. It is the vice of SirGeorge Trevelyan as a speaker that he over-prepares--writing out, as arule, nearly every word he has to utter, and often some of the very bestspeeches I have heard him deliver have been spoiled by giving the fatalsense of being spoken essays. The speech was carefully prepared, and, sofar as I could observe, was even written out; but its grace of diction, its fine temper, above all, its manly explanation of a change of viewand its close-knit reasoning, made it really one of the very finestaddresses I have heard in the course of many years' debating. 

[Sidenote: Toryism of the gutter. ]

And, then, if you wanted to appreciate Sir George Trevelyan the more, you had only to wait for a few moments to hear the man who followed him. I am told on pretty good authority that, next to Lord RandolphChurchill, the favourite orator of the Tory provincial platform is SirAshmead Bartlett. I can well believe it. The empty shibboleths--the loudand blatant voice--the bumptious temper--that make the commoner form ofTory--all are there. He is the dramatically complete embodiment of allthe vacuous folly, empty-headed shoutings, and swaggering patriotismwhich make up the stock-in-trade of most provincial Tories. Poor Mr. Balfour was caught by Sir Ashmead before he had time to escape, and insheer decency had to remain while his servile adulator was pouring onhim buckets of butter, which must have appalled and disgusted him. Indeed, the effect of the bellowings of the man from Sheffield could beseen in the bent back, the depressed face, the general air of limpnesswhich overcame the Tory leader--as helpless, dejected, bent double, helooked steadily at the green bench underneath him, and concealed fromthe House as much as possible the tell-tale horror of his face. 

[Sidenote: A portrait of Michael Davitt. ]

On an assembly which had been jaded and almost tortured by thistremendous display, it was Mr. Davitt's fortune to come with his firstspeech in Parliament. For hour after hour he had sate, very still, withdeeply-lined face, but with a restless and frequent twist of the heavydark moustache, that spoke of the intense nervous strain to which thisweary waiting was subjecting him. Davitt is a man whose face would standout in bold relief from any crowd of men, however numerous orremarkable. He has a narrow face, with high cheek-bones, and the thick, close black whiskers, beard and moustache, make him look almost as darkas a Spaniard. The eyes are deep-set, brilliant, restless--with infinitelessons of hours of agony, of loneliness, torture in all the millionhours which filled up his nine years of endless and unbroken gloom inpenal servitude. The frame is slight, well-knit--the frame of a sturdyson of the people--kept taut and thin by the restless nervous soulwithin. An empty sleeve hanging by his side tells the tale of work inthe factory in childhood's years, and of one of the accidents which toooften maim the children of the poor in the manufacturing districts ofEngland. The voice is strong, deep, and soft; the delivery slow, deliberate, the style of the English or American platform rather than ofthe Irish gathering by the green hillside. 

[Sidenote: Dartmoor. ]

Altogether, never did there stand before this British assembly in allits centuries of history, a figure more interesting, more picturesque, more touching, above all, more eloquent of a mighty transformation--of agreat new birth and revolution in the history of two nations. Go back inmemory to the day, when with cropped hair--with the broad-arrowed coat, the yellow stockings--this man dragged wearily the wheelbarrow in thegrim silences under the sinister skies of Dartmoor, with warders totaunt, or insult, or browbeat the Irish felon-patriot--with the verydregs and scum of our lowest social depths for companions andcolleagues--and then think of this same man standing up before thesupreme and august assembly where the might, sovereignty, power, andomnipotence of this world-wide empire are centred, and holding it formore than an hour and a half under a spell of rapt attention that almostsuggested the high-strung devotion of a religious service in place of araging political controversy--think of this contrast, and then bless theday and the policy that have made possible such a transformation. 

[Sidenote: Westminster. ]

I cannot attempt to give all the strong points of a speech whichbristled with strong points at almost every turn. To the House itsentire character must have come as a surprise. The mass of members thatcrowded every bench, and filled the vacancies which Ashmead Bartlett hadmade--Mr. Gladstone sitting attentive on the Treasury Bench--Mr. Balfourlistening with evident friendliness and sympathy--all these were enoughto transport any orator into the realms of high stirring rhetoric, andto attune the nerves to poetic and exalted flight. But Davitt's nervesstood the test. Slowly, deliberately, patiently, he developed a case forthe Bill, of facts, figures, historical incident, pathetic and swiftpictures of Irish desolation and suffering, which would have been worthyof a great advocate placing a heavy indictment. Now and then there wasthe eloquence of finely chosen language--of a striking fact--even of atouching personal aside--but, as a whole, the speech was a simple, weighty, careful case against the Union--based on the eloquentstatistics of diminished population, exiled millions, devastatedhomesteads. 

[Sidenote: Tragic comedy. ]

There were plenty of lighter strains to relieve the deadly earnestnessof a man who had thoroughly thought out his case. And, curiously enough, these pleasant sallies nearly all had allusion to those tragic nineyears of penal servitude through which Davitt has passed. Mr. DunbarBarton, one of the Orange lawyers, had spoken of himself as likely tospend the remainder of his days in penal servitude. Mr. Davitt put thethreat gently aside, with the assurance that the hon. And learnedgentleman would probably be one day on the bench, and that he wouldadvise him not to try to reach the bench by the dock. The same gentlemanhad expressed a doubt whether any constitutional lawyer would hold thathe was guilty either of treason or treason felony, if he took up armsagainst Home Rule after it had been passed by both Houses of Parliament. "Would, " said Mr. Davitt, with quiet pathos, "I had met such aconstitutional authority in the shape of a judge twenty-three long yearsago. "

[Sidenote: A vulgar and caddish interruption. ]

And, finally, what contributed to the marvellous effect of this speechwas its temper and one interruption. In all the speech there was not onetrace of the bitterness that must often have corroded that poor soulduring the nine years of living death--even the allusions to politicalopponents of to-day were kindly and gentle. Above all things, the speechwas one--not merely of an Irish Nationalist, but of a true Democrat--asdesirous of the happiness of other nationalities and other peoples as ofhis own. It was while every part of the House was listening to thisbeautiful and touching speech, that a gentleman called Brookfield--oneof the most offensive of the narrow and malignant section ofTories--rose and tried to trip Davitt up, by alleging that he wasreading his speech. I am told that Mr. Balfour sprang in anger from hisseat--there was a significant and a pained silence on the ToryBenches--there was a loud shout of anger and disgust from the Liberaland the Irish seats--with William O'Brien's voice shouting hoarselyabove the tempest, "The party of gentlemen!" The Speaker showed what hethought, in that deadly quiet way with which he can administer a snub, that will never be forgotten. It was all that was wanted to complete thesuccess of this wonderful speech. 

[Sidenote: Sir John Rigby. ]

Then came hand-shakings and clappings on the back, and a light in theeyes of Irish members that told of a great step forward in the progressof their cause. To a house thinned by the endless rhodomontade of a dullOrangeman--with a style of elocution to which the House is unaccustomed, and which has almost every fault delivery could have--the speech of SirJohn Rigby, the Solicitor-General, was one of the finest and weightiestutterances delivered on the Bill. The massive head, the fine face, therugged sense and leonine strength in face and figure, lent force to acriticism of extraordinary effectiveness on the attacks levelled againstthe Bill. First, the Solicitor-General took up the wild and whirlingstatement of one of the opponents of the Bill, and then coolly--asthough it were a pure matter of business--he put in juxtaposition theenactments of the Bill, and the contrast was as laughter provoking withall its deadly seriousness, as the conflict between the story ofFalstaff and the contemptuously quiet rejoinder of Prince Hal. LordRandolph was taken in hand; he was soon disposed of. Then Mr. DunbarBarton was crumpled up and flung away. Sir Edward Clarke ventured aninterruption; he was crushed in a sentence. It was an admirable specimenof destructive criticism, and it hugely and palpably delighted Mr. Gladstone. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Asquith. ]

Mr. Asquith had intended to speak on April 14th, evening, but theportentous and prolix Courtney had shut him out, and he had to wait tillthe following evening. The change was, perhaps, desirable, for Mr. Asquith had thus the opportunity of addressing the House when it wasfresh, vital, and impressionable. In these long debates the eveningsusually became intolerably dull and oppressive. Though Mr. Asquith wasan untried man when he went into office, in two speeches he succeeded inplacing himself in the very front rank of the debaters and politiciansin the House. Let me say at once that the speech was a remarkabletriumph, and placed Mr. Asquith at a bound amid not only the orators, but the statesmen of the House of Commons--the men who have nerve, breadth of view, great courage, enormous resource. 

[Sidenote: Joe's dustheap. ]

One of the discoveries of the speech must have been particularlyunpleasant to Mr. Chamberlain. The gentleman from Birmingham has at lastfound a man who does not fear him--who has a much finer mind--widerculture--who has judgment, temper, and a vocabulary as copious and asready as that of Mr. Chamberlain himself. One had only to look at Mr. Chamberlain throughout the speech to see how palpable, how painful thisdiscovery was--especially to a man to whom politics is nothing but amere conflict between contending rivalries and malignities. Mr. Asquith--calm, self-possessed, measured--put Joe on the rack with adeliberation that was sometimes almost cruel in its effectiveness andrelentlessness; and Joe was foolish enough to point the severity andsuccess of the attack by losing his self-control. When Mr. Asquith saidthat Joe could find no better employment than that of "scavenging"--herewas a word to make Joe wince--"among the dustheaps" of past speeches, Joe was a sight to see. A "scavenger"--this was the disrespectful way inwhich those quotations were described which had often roused the ToryBenches to ecstasies of delight. Joe was so angered that he could notget over it for some time. "Dustheaps!" he was heard to be mutteringseveral times in succession, as if the word positively choked him. Indeed, throughout Mr. Asquith's speech, whenever the allusions weremade to him, Joe was seen to be muttering under his teeth. It was therunning commentary which he made on the most effective attack that hasbeen uttered against him; it was the highest tribute to the severity andsuccess of the assailant. 

[Sidenote: Limp Balfour. ]

Badly as Mr. Chamberlain bore his punishment, Mr. Balfour was evenworse. It is seldom that the House of Commons has seen a more remarkableor more effective retort than the happy, dexterous, delightful--fromthe literary point of view, unsurpassable--parody which Mr. Asquith madeof Mr. Balfour's flagitious incitements to the men of Belfast. Mr. Asquith put the case of Mr. Morley going down to a crowd in Cork, andusing the same kind of language. Mr. Balfour, in his speech, had overand over again used the name of the Deity. "I pray God, " said the piousleader of the Tory party, as he addressed the Orangemen. When, in theimaginary speech which Mr. Asquith put into the mouth of Mr. Morley, herecurred again and again to the phrase, "I pray God, " there was just theleast lifting of the eyes and lowering of the voice to the sanctimoniouslevel of the Pharisee which made this part of the speech not merely afine piece of oratory, but a splendid bit of acting. Mr. Balfour'sappearance during this portion of Mr. Asquith's speech was pitiable. Hisface, with its pallor--look of abashed pain--was tell-tale of the innershame which he felt, as thus calmly, coldly, cruelly--with extraordinaryart, and amid a tempest of cheers--he was brought by his opponent faceto face with realities which lay underneath his bland and oily phrases. 

[Sidenote: Another unmannerly interruption. ]

In the midst of the calm and stately flow of Mr. Asquith's speech, whilethe House, spellbound, listened in awe-struck and rapt silence, suddenly, there was a commotion, a shout, then the roar of many voices. The whole thing came upon the House with a bewildering and dumbfoundingsurprise; it was as if someone had suddenly died, or some other sinistercatastrophe had occurred. In a moment, several Irish members--Mr. SwiftMcNeill, Mr. Crilly, and others--were on their feet, shouting in accentshoarse with anger, inarticulate with rage. The Speaker was also on hisfeet, and, for a while, his shouts of "Order! Order!" failed to calm thesudden, fierce cyclone. Above the din, voices were shouting, "Name!Name!" with that rancorous and fierce note which the House of Commonsknows so well when passion has broken loose, and all the grim depths ofparty hate are revealed. At last, it was discovered that Lord Cranbornewas the culprit, and that when Mr. Asquith, amid universal sympathy andassent, was alluding to the beautiful speech of Mr. Davitt, this mostunmannerly of cubs had uttered the word, "Murderer. "

[Sidenote: A whipped hound. ]

If he had not been so unspeakably rude, vulgar, odious, and impertinent, one might have almost felt sympathy for Lord Salisbury's son in theposition in which he found himself. His face is usually pale, but now ithad the deadly, ghastly, and almost green pallor of a man who iscondemned to die. But, amid all the palpable terror, the Cecil insolencewas still there, and Lord Cranborne declared that, though he had usedthe phrase, he had not intended it for the House, and that it was true. Since his relative, Lord Wolmer, made the lamest and meanest apology theHouse of Commons had ever heard, there never had been anything to equalthis. The House groaned aloud in disgust and contempt; even his own sidewas as abashed as when Brookfield sought to interrupt Mr. Davitt. TheSpeaker, quietly, but visibly moved and disgusted, at once told theinsolent young creature that this was not sufficient, and that anapology was due--to which the Cecil hopeling proceeded to do with as bada grace and in as odious a style as it was possible for it to be done. Mr. Asquith's splendid self-control and mastery of the House bore theordeal of even this odious incident, and he wound up the speech with oneof the finest and most remarkable perorations which has ever been heardin that great assembly. Calm, self-restrained, almost frigid indelivery, chaste and sternly simple in language, Mr. Asquith'speroration reached a height that few men could ever attain. The stillHouse sate with its members raised to their highest point of endurance, and it was almost a relief when the stately flow came to an end, and menwere able to relieve their pent-up tide of feeling. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE END OF A GREAT WEEK. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Goschen. ]

The Tories were not in good heart at the beginning of the week which sawthe second reading of the Home Rule Bill carried on April 21st, andperhaps it was owing to this that they put up one of their very bestmen. Mr. Goschen I have always held to be one of the really greatdebaters of the House of Commons. It is true that he has almost everyphysical disadvantage with which an orator could be cursed. His voice ishoarse, muffled, raucous, with some reminiscences of the Teutonicfatherland from which he remotely comes. His shortness of sight amountsalmost to a disability. Whenever he has anything to read he has to placethe paper under his eyes, and even then he finds it very difficult toread it. His action is like that of a distracted wind-mill. He beats theair with his whirling arms; he stands several feet from the table, andmoves backwards and forwards in this space in a positively distractingmanner. And yet he is a great debater. 

[Sidenote: In Opposition. ]

But Mr. Goschen, like every other orator of the Opposition, has fallenon somewhat evil days, and is not at his very best now. "The world, "said Thackeray long ago, "is a wretched snob, and is especially cold tothe unsuccessful. " This applies to that portion of the world whichchanges sides in the House of Commons according to the resolves of thepopular verdict. Mr. Goschen, then, is not seen at his best in thesedays when all his arguments can receive the triumphant and unanswerableretort of a majority in the division lobbies. But still, the speech ofMr. Goschen on April 17th was an excellent one; it was really the first, since the beginning of this debate, which struck me as giving somethingto answer. Acute, subtle, a dialectician to his finger-tips, Mr. Goschenis best as a critic, and as a bit of criticism, his attack on the Billwas excellent. Mr. Morley found himself compelled for the first time fordays to take serious notes; here at last were points which it wasnecessary to confront. After all the dreary platitudes of many days, this was a mercy for which to be thankful. 

[Sidenote: Randolph dull. ]

Lord Randolph Churchill, rising on the following evening, was not at hisbest. He has been passing through what Disraeli once called a campaignof passion in the provinces; and his speeches have been full of thewildest fury. But all the fire had become extinguished. When LordRandolph Churchill makes up his mind to be rational, few people in theHouse of Commons can be more rational; but when he makes up his mind tothrow prudence, sense, and reserve to the winds, nobody can rise to suchheights and descend to such depths of wild, unreasonable, bellowingToryism--always, of course, excepting Ashmead-Bartlett. But when he isrational he is often dull--when he is unreasonable he is often veryentertaining. The speech of April 18th was a rational speech--it was, therefore, a dull one. Lord Randolph is not what he was. The voice whichwas formerly so resonant has become muffled and sometimes almostindistinct, and the manner has lost all the sprightliness which used torelieve it in the olden days. The House of Commons is like theRevolution--it often swallows its own children. 

[Sidenote: Father and son. ]

Mr. Chamberlain might have been seen in two very different characters inthe course of that same evening. He is not a soft man--amid sympatheticsniggers from all the House, Mr. Morley at a later stage referredsarcastically to the "milk of human kindness" which flowed so copiouslyin his veins--but he is a man of strong and warm domestic affections. Hehas the proud privilege of having in the House of Commons not only ason, but one who, in many respects, seems the very facsimile of himself, for the likeness between Mr. Austen Chamberlain and his father isstartlingly close. This likeness is heightened by the similarity ofdress--by the single eyeglass that is worn perennially in both cases, and, to a certain extent, by the walk. When the son began to speak thisTuesday night, there was even a stronger sense of the resemblancebetween the two. The voice was almost the same, the gestures were thesame--the diction was not unlike--nearly all the tricks and mannerismsof the elder man were reproduced by the younger. For instance, when heis going to utter a good point, Mr. Chamberlain makes a pause--the sondoes the same: when Mr. Chamberlain is strongly moved, and wishes todrive home some fierce thrust, there is a deep swell in his otherwiseeven voice, and there is the same in the voice of the son. Then there isthe same crisp, terse succession of sentences--altogether the likenessis wonderful. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Chamberlain pleased. ]

It was pleasant, even to those who do not love Mr. Chamberlain eitherpersonally or politically, to watch him during this episode. When theson first stood up, the pallor of the face, the unsteadiness of thevoice, the broken and stumbling accents, told of the high state ofnervous strain through which he was passing, and it was easy to see thatthe emotions of the son had communicated themselves to the father. Mr. Chamberlain had his hat low down on his forehead so as to conceal hisface and its tell-tale excitement as much as possible. But it turned outthat he need not have been in the least alarmed. The speech of young Mr. Chamberlain, for a maiden speech, was really wonderful. It was lucid, well knit, pointed, cogent. Its delivery was almost perfect; it had thetrue House of Commons air and manner. This young man will go far. Ishouldn't be surprised if he became in time even a better debater thanhis father. His education, I should say, is broader and deeper, hismind finer, and his temper sweeter and more under control. During thelatter portion of the speech his father's face had a smile, pleasant tobehold; one could forgive him a great deal of his hardness, rancour, even ferocity, for this manifestation--open and frank--of kindlyhuman-feeling. 

[Sidenote: And angry. ]

But, as I have said, there was another manifestation of Mr. Chamberlainin the course of this very evening. Shortly before ten o'clock Mr. Morley rose to make his reply. It was twenty minutes to ten when herose. It was close upon midnight when he sate down. And yet there wasn'tone word too many--indeed, Mr. Morley might have gone even longerwithout wearying the House, for it was a speech which, although not freefrom some of the besetting weaknesses of his oratory, was an eloquent, impressive and convincing addition to the great argument on the Irishquestion. Giving himself a certain freedom--departing from theover-severe self-restraint which he so often imposes uponhimself--abandoning the frigidity of manner which conceals from so manypeople his warmth of heart and of temper, he spoke with a go, a fire anda force of attack not very common with him. Above all things the speechgave the impression of one who spoke from the inside--who knew thesubjects of which he was talking, not merely in their general aspects, but in their dark recesses--in their latent passion--in their awful andappalling depths. It was while this fine speech was being delivered thatthe other and the darker side of Mr. Chamberlain's nature was to beseen. There are no such enmities as those between relatives or formerfriends; and so it apparently is between Mr. Chamberlain and Mr. Morley--though it should be said most of the bitterness of the hatredseems to be on the one side. While Mr. Morley is speaking there is afrown on the face of Mr. Chamberlain that never lifts. Now and then, thesulky and sullen and frowning silence was broken by an observationevidently of bitter scornfulness addressed to Sir Henry James, and oncethere seemed even to be an angry interchange between him and Mr. Courtney because Mr. Courtney had ventured to put a civil question toMr. Morley. Mr. Morley had to address a few words of heartycongratulation to Mr. Austen Chamberlain on his very successful speech. He spoke with the slowness, hesitation, and effort that betrayed acertain glimpse of the pain and grief that the political separations oflife produce in all but the hardest and coldest natures. It was agraceful, generous, feeling tribute, but it did not soften Mr. Chamberlain--the same steady unlifting frown was there--the same"puss"--and when Mr. Morley had finished, there was a repetition of theevidently scornful comment of Mr. Chamberlain. 

[Sidenote: A hit at Mr. Chamberlain. ]

But Mr. Morley may well bear all this, for he was able to strike somevery effective blows at Mr. Chamberlain, and Mr. Chamberlain for ahard-hitter has a wonderfully keen appreciation and a very sensitiveskin for anything like a dexterous hit at his own expense. Alluding tothe favourite argument of Mr. Chamberlain, that the speeches of Irishmembers in the past may have been deplorable, Mr. Morley asked were theythe only people who had made such speeches? They might be repentantsinners, but who so great a prodigal as the member for Birmingham? Theloud and triumphant laughter which this produced at the expense of Mr. Chamberlain, was followed up by another even more victorious thrust. TheIrish members had abandoned prairie value in the same way as the memberfor Birmingham had surrendered the doctrines of "ransom" and naturalrights. Mr. Chamberlain was very uncomfortable, and soon showed it by aninterrupting cheer. "Seriously, " said Mr. Morley, passing from thislighter, but very effective vein. And then he was interrupted by hisfoe. "Hear, hear, " shouted Mr. Chamberlain in that deep, raucous, fiercenote, in which he reveals the fierceness of his hatred, as though to saythat it was time for Mr. Morley to address himself to serious things. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Sexton. ]

So the debate proceeded during the earlier part of the week; as itneared its close it increased in brilliancy, until in the last night itwent out in a blaze of splendour and glory. On the Thursday evening Mr. Sexton was the speaker. He made a speech which was two hours and a halfin duration; it was in my opinion too long--I think that except in themost exceptional cases no orator ought to speak more than half an hour. And yet I would not have had the speech shorter by one second; and it isa singular proof of the extraordinary command which this man holds overthe House of Commons that he kept its attention absolutely without amoment's pause or cessation, during every bit of this tremendous strainupon his attention. With the exception of Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Sexton isthe one man in the House who is capable of such a feat. This is largelydue not merely to his oratorical powers but to the extraordinary rangeof his gifts. To the outside public--even to the House of Commons--he ischiefly known by his great rhetorical gifts; but this is only a part, and a small part, of his great mental equipment. His mastery overfigures in its firmness of grasp, its lightning-like rapidity, itsretentiveness, is almost as great as that of a professional calculator. He has a judgment, cold, equable, far-seeing, and he has a humour thatis kindly but can also be scorching, and that has sometimes been deadlyenough to leave wounds that never healed. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Chamberlain's arithmetic. ]

Perhaps not even Mr. Gladstone--certainly not Mr. Goschen--though he, too, is a past master in figures--is as formidable and destructive agladiator in a fight over figures as Mr. Sexton; I pity any mortal whogets into grips with him on that arena. Mr. Chamberlain was the unhappyindividual whom Mr. Sexton took in hand. Mr. Chamberlain has thereputation of being a good man of business, he certainly was a mostsuccessful one; and one would expect from him some power, at least, ofbeing able to state figures correctly. When the figures he hadpresented to the country in a recent speech at Birmingham came underanalysis by Mr. Sexton, Mr. Chamberlain was exposed as a bungler asstupid and dense as one could imagine. Mr. Chamberlain's mighty fabricof a war indemnity of millions which the financial arrangements of thisBill would inflict on England, melted before Mr. Sexton'sexamination--palpably, rapidly, exactly as though it were a gaudy palaceof snow which the midsummer sun was melting into mere slush. Thecocksureness of Mr. Chamberlain makes his exposure a sort of comfort anddelight to the majority of the House; but still, the sense of his greatpowers--of his commanding position as a debater--of his formidablenessas a political and Parliamentary enemy--made the House almost unwillingto realize that he could be taken up and reprimanded, and birched byanybody in the House with the completeness with which Mr. Sexton wasperforming the task. Mark you, there was nothing offensive--there wasnothing even severe in the language of Mr. Sexton's attack. It wassimply cold, pitiless, courteous but killing analysis--the kind ofanalysis which the hapless and fraudulent bankrupt has to endure whenhis castles in the air come to be examined under the cold scrutiny ofthe Official Receiver in the Bankruptcy Court. 

[Sidenote: Johnston of Ballykilbeg. ]

A different tone was that which Mr. Sexton assumed to Mr. Johnston ofBallykilbeg. Mr. Johnston, known to the outer world as a fire-eater ofthe most determined order, inside the House is one of the most popularof men, and with no section of the House is he more popular than withthose Irish Nationalists for whose blood he is supposed to thirst. Withgentle and friendly wit Mr. Sexton dealt with the case of Mr. Johnstonlining the ditch, declaring amid sympathetic laughter that the oneobject of any Irish Nationalist who should meet the Orangemen in such aposition would be to take him out, even if he had to carry him to do so. This reduction of the militancy of Ulster down to the level of playfulsatire did much to relieve the House from the tension which the wildlanguage of Ulsteria had been calculated to provoke. Finally, there camea beautiful peroration--tender, touching, well sustained--which waslistened to with breathless attention by the House, and produced asprofound a depth of emotion on the Liberal as even on the Irish Benches. It was a peroration which lifted the great issue to all the heights ofsolemnity, nobility, and supreme interest which it reaches in the mouthof an eloquent orator. This tremendous speech--in its variety, in itspower--in its alternation of scathing scorn, copious analysis, playfuland gentle wit--was perhaps the most remarkable example in our times ofthe sway which an orator has over the House of Commons. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Carson. ]

Mr. Carson was unfortunate in every sense in having to follow an orationof such extraordinary power, and in having to follow it at that dreadhour when every member of the House of Commons is thinking of hislong-postponed dinner. The audience of "the Sleuth Hound ofCoercion"--as Mr. Carson is usually called--if it was select, was at thesame time, enthusiastic and appreciative. The little band of Unionists, who get very cold comfort, as a rule, during these hard times, satesteadily in their seats and eagerly welcomed and warmly cheered Mr. Carson. Behind him, too, was a pretty strong band of Tories, and Mr. Balfour sate throughout his entire speech listening to it with thekeenest and most evident appreciation. I have already described theappearance of Mr. Carson and the impression he makes upon me; curiouslyenough, this impression was confirmed by an experience that afternoon. Ihappened to stand at a point of the House where I saw Mr. Carson fromprofile as he was speaking. He had just got to the point where, with ahoarse and deep note in his usually cold voice, he said to Mr. Morleythat if the Chief Secretary would move the omission of all the"safeguards" from the Bill, he would vote along with him. There was atone almost of ferocity--the tone which conveyed all the rage anddespair of the Ascendency party in Ireland at the prospect of departingpower--the fury of the Castle official that saw the approachingoverthrow of all the powerful citadel of fraud and cruelty and wrong, ofwhich he had been one of the chief pillars. And as Mr. Carson wasuttering these words, I saw his profile--which often reveals more ofmen's natures than the front face. 

[Sidenote: A curious reminiscence. ]

I suppose I shall be considered very fantastic--but do you know what Ithought of at that very moment? Some years ago, I stood at Epsom closeto the ropes and saw Fred Archer pass me as he swept like the whirlwindto the winning-post in the last Derby he ever rode. Between Mr. Carsonand Mr. Fred Archer, especially in the profile, there is a certain andeven a close resemblance; the same long lantern face, the same sunkencheeks, the same prominent mouth, the same skin dark as the gipsy's. Never shall I forget the look on Fred Archer's face at the moment when Isaw it--it was but for a second--and yet the impression dwellsineffaceable upon my memory and imagination. There was a curious mixtureof terror, resolve, hope, despair on the sunken cheeks that was almostappalling--that look represented, embodied, summed up, as though in somesudden glimpse of another and a nether world, all the terrible and awfulpassions that stormed at the hearts of thousands in the great gamblingpanorama all around. And there was something of the same look on theprofile of Mr. Carson--I could almost have pitied him and the party andtraditions and past which he represented as I saw its death-throesmarked on his suffering and fierce face. 

But the speech of Mr. Carson was a clever one. Whatever the inner eyemay see in the depths of Mr. Carson's soul, to the outward eye he has anappearance of a self-possession amounting almost to the offensive. He isdressed almost as well as Mr. Austen Chamberlain, but, unlike Mr. Chamberlain's promising lad--who still has much of the graceful shynessand unsteady nerve of youth--Mr. Carson has all the coolness, self-assertion, and hardness of the man who has passed through thefierce and tempestuous conflicts of Irish life. Mr. Carson stands at thebox and leans upon it as though he had been there all his life; heshoots his cuffs--to use a House of Commons' phrase--as dexterously andalmost as frequently as Mr. Gladstone; his points are stated slowly, deliberately, with that wary and watchful look of the man who has beenaccustomed to utter the words that consigned men to the horrors ofTullamore. The speech of Thursday evening was a clever speech. It wasn'tbroad--it wasn't generous--there was not a note in it above the tone ofthe Crown Prosecutor, but it was subtle, well-reasoned--the blows werehappy, and told--and the Tories and Unionists were hugely and justlydelighted. 

[Sidenote: The approach of the division. ]

At last we are within sight of the end. Friday had come, and everybodyknew that this was the day which would see the division; and, after all, the division was the event of the debate. In moments such as these youcan hear the quickened throb of the House of Commons, and if you fail tonotice it you soon learn it from the public. In the lobbies outsidestand scores of excited men and women begging, imploring, threatening--using every means to get admission into the galleries towitness a historic and immortal scene. Outside there is an even densercrowd--ready to hoot or cheer their favourites. The galleries are allcrowded; peers stand on each other's toes, and patiently wait for hours. About ten o'clock a man rushes into the lobby, and there is a movementthat looks most like a scare--as though the messenger were some heraldof disaster. In a few minutes you see a great stir and a curioussuppressed excitement in the lobby, and then you observe that the Princeof Wales has come down to pay the House one of his rare visitations, andto take that place above the clock which it is his privilege on theseoccasions to occupy. 

[Sidenote: Sir Henry James. ]

The evening began with a speech of Sir Henry James for the Unionistparty--legal and dry as dust, but, towards the end, reaching aheight--or shall I say a depth--of fierce party passion. In languagemore veiled, more deliberate, but as intelligible as Mr. Balfour's andLord Randolph Churchill's, the ex-Attorney-General called upon theOrangemen to rise in rebellion. And, working himself up gradually fromthe slow and funereal tones which he usually employs, Sir Henry Jameswound up with a fierce, rude, savage gibe at Mr. Gladstone. Almostshouting out the word, "Betrayed!" he pointed a threatening and scornfulfinger at the head of Mr. Gladstone, and the Tories and Unionistsfrantically cheered. 

It was more than ten o'clock when Mr. Balfour rose. The assembly wasbrilliant in its density, its character, its pent-up emotion, and inmany respects the speech was worthy of the occasion. He was wise enoughnot to entangle himself in the inextricable network of clauses andsub-sections. In broad, general lines he assailed the policy of the Billand of the Government, and now and then worked up his party to almostfrenzied excitement. The cheers of the Tories were taken up by theUnionists, who thronged their benches with unusual density ofattendance. Now and then there were fierce protests from the IrishBenches; but, on the whole, they were patient, self-restrained, andsilent. 

[Sidenote: Gladstone. ]

Mr. Gladstone, meantime, was down early, after but a short stay fordinner. His face had that rapt look of reverie which it wears on allthese solemn and great occasions, and there was a slightly deadlierpallor on the cheek. Mr. Balfour persisted with his speech to the bitterend, and now and then Mr. Gladstone gave an impatient and anxious lookat the clock. The hands pointed to ten minutes to midnight before thisman of eighty-three was on his legs to address a crowded, hot, jadedassembly in a speech that would wind up one of the great stages in thegreatest controversy of his life. 

[Sidenote: The opening. ]

We who love and follow him hold our breaths, and our nervous anxietyrises almost to terror. Can he stand the strain?--will he break downfrom sheer physical fatigue and the exhaustion of long waiting? Thefirst few notes of the deep voice are reassuring. The opening sentencesalso have that full roll which nearly always is inevitable proof thatthe great swelling opening will carry him on to the end; and yet thereis anxiety. Those who know him well cannot help observing that there isjust a slight trace of excitement, nervousness, and anxiety in the voiceand manner. He has evidently been put out by the lateness of the hour towhich the speech has been postponed. There is beside him a vast mass ofnotes, and then, before he reaches that, there is the long speech towhich he has just listened, many points of which it is impossible toleave unnoticed. And so the first ten minutes strike me as ratherpoor--poor, I mean, for Mr. Gladstone--and my heart sinks. In memory Igo back to that memorable and unforgettable speech on that terriblenight in 1886, when, with dark and disastrous defeat prepared for him inthe lobbies the moment he sat down, Mr. Gladstone delivered a speech, the echoes of whose beautiful tones--immortal and ineffaceable--stilllinger in the ear. And now the moment of Nemesis and triumph has come, and is he going to fall below the level of the great hour?

Ah! these fears are all vain. The exquisite cadence--the delightfulbye-play--the broad, free gesture--the lofty tones of indignation andappeal--but, above all, the even tenderness, composure, and charity thatendureth all things--all these qualities range through this magnificentspeech. Thus he wishes to administer to Sir Henry James a well-meritedrebuke for his terrible and flagitious incitements, and, with upliftedhands, and in a voice of infinite scorn, Mr. Gladstone turns on SirHenry, and overwhelms him, amid a tempest of cheers from the delightedIrishry and Liberals. 

[Sidenote: Chamberlain touched. ]

But there is another and an even more extraordinary instance of thepower, grace, and mastery of the mighty orator. The G. O. M. Had made anallusion to that pleasant and promising speech of young AustenChamberlain, of which I have spoken already. Just by the way, with thatdelightful and unapproachable lightness of touch which is theunattainable charm of Mr. Gladstone's oratory, he alluded to the speechand to Mr. Chamberlain himself. "I will not enter into any elaborateeulogy of that speech, " said Mr. Gladstone. "I will endeavour to sum upmy opinion of it by simply saying that it was a speech which must havebeen dear and refreshing to a father's heart. " And then came one of themost really pathetic scenes I have ever beheld in the House ofCommons--a scene with that touch of nature which makes the whole akin, and, for the moment, brings the fiercest personal and political foesinto the holy bond of common human feeling. Mr. Chamberlain iscompletely unnerved--I should have almost said for the first time in hislife. I have seen this very remarkable man under all kinds ofcircumstances--in triumph--in disaster--in rage--in composure--but neverbefore--not even in the very ecstasy of the hours of partyfeeling--never before did I see him lose for a moment hisself-possession. First, he bowed low to Mr. Gladstone in gratitude--andthen the tears sprang to his eyes; his lips trembled painfully, and hishand sprang to his forehead, as though to hide the woman's tears thatdid honour to his manhood. And, curiously enough, the feeling did notpass away. I know not whether Mr. Chamberlain was out of sorts on thisgreat night; but his manner was very different on this night of nights;indeed, from what it has been at every other period of this fierce, stormy Session. He cheered as loudly and as frequently as the best ofthe rank and file--interrupted--in short, manifested all the passions ofthe hour. But on that Friday night--specially after this allusion ofMr. Gladstone's to his son--he sate silent, and in a far-off reverie. 

But the Old Man still passes on his triumphant way--now gently, nowstormy--listened to in delight from all parts; and when he is now andthen interrupted by some small and rude Tory, dismissing theinterruption with delightful composure and a good humour that nothingcan disturb. It is only the marvellous powers of the man that can keepthe House patient, for it is pointing to one o'clock, and the divisionhas not yet come. But at last he is approaching the peroration. It hasthe glad note of coming triumph--subdued, however, to the gentle tone ofgood taste. It is delivered, like the whole of the speech, withextraordinary nerve, and without any abatement of the fire, thevehemence, the sweeping rapidity of the best days. And it ends in notes, clear, resonant--almost like a peal of joy-bells. 

[Sidenote: The division. ]

Then there are the shouts of "Aye" and "No, " with "Agreed, agreed!" fromsome Irish Benches--a humorous suggestion that highly tickles everybody. Mr. Gladstone is almost the last to enter from the lobby of themajority. Alone, slowly, with pale face, he walks up the floor. Thesignificance of the great moment, the long years of struggle, of heroiccourage, of inflexible temerity, of patient and splendid hope, all thisrushes tumultuously to the minds of his friends and followers, and, in asecond, without a word of warning or command, the Liberals and the Irishhave sprung to their feet, and, underneath their cheers--their wavinghats, their uplifted forms--Mr. Gladstone passes through to his seat asunder a canopy. 

At last, Tom Ellis, the Junior Liberal Whip, quickly comes up thefloor--the paper is handed to Mr. Marjoribanks--this announces we havewon--a good cheer, but short, for we want to know the numbers--and thenthey are read out. 

 For the second reading 347 Against 304

The majority is 43. The Lord be praised! we have polled all our men! Andthen more cheers--taken up outside in the deeper bellow of the bigcrowd, and then more waving of hats and another great reception to Mr. Gladstone. And so, as the streaks of day rose on this hour of Ireland'scoming dawn, we went to our several homes. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE BUDGET, OBSTRUCTION, AND EGYPT. 

[Sidenote: Sir William. ]

Sir William Harcourt, on April 24th, had the double honour of speakingbefore the smallest audience and making the best Budget speech for manyyears. The Chancellor of the Exchequer has two manners. He can be asboisterous, exuberant, and gay, as any speaker in the House, and he canalso be as lugubrious as though his life had been spent in the serviceof an undertaker. He was in the undertaker mood this evening. Slowly, solemnly, sadly, he unfolded his story of the finances of the country. He had taken the trouble to write down every word of what he had tosay--an evil habit to which he has adhered all his life. But, notwithstanding these two things--which are both, to my mind, capitaldefects in Parliamentary speaking--Sir William put his case with suchextraordinary lucidity, that everybody listened in profound attention toevery word he uttered; and when he sate down, he was almost overwhelmedwith the chorus of praise which descended on his head from all quartersof the House. 

Sir William Harcourt imitated most Chancellors of the Exchequer, inkeeping his secret to the latest possible moment. Like a good dramatistalso, he arranged his figures and the matter of his speech so well thatthe final solution became inevitable, and the final solution, of course, was the addition of a penny to the income-tax. The debate which followedthe Budget speech was quiet, discursive, friendly to the Chancellor ofthe Exchequer. Mr. Picton is a formidable man to Chancellors of theExchequer--for he has very strong ideas of reform--especially on thebreakfast-table; but Mr. Picton is rational as well as Radical; and hecordially acknowledged the duty of postponing even the reforms on whichRadicals have set their hearts until more convenient times and seasons. 

[Sidenote: Belfast. ]

It was after midnight when a very serious bit of business took place. The House gets to know beforehand when anything like serious debate isgoing to take place--even though there be no notice. Accordingly, inspite of the lateness of the hour, the House was pretty full, and therewas a preliminary air of expectation and excitement. One of the ironrules of the House of Commons is that the Speaker cannot leave the chairuntil a motion for the adjournment of the House has been carried. Thisis always proposed by the senior Government Whip. The motion is usuallycarried in dumb show, and with that mumble in which business is carriedthrough in the House when there is no opposition. But it is one of theancient and time-honoured privileges of the House of Commons to raisealmost any question on the motion for the adjournment of the House. Thereason, I assume, is that the representatives of the people--when aboutto separate--thought in the olden days that it ought to be their rightto raise any question whatsoever, lest the king in their absence shouldtake advantage of the situation. Many of the rules of theHouse--including several which lend themselves to obstruction--are dueto this feeling of constant vigilance and suspicion towards the Crown. 

Mr. Sexton is one of the men whose life is centred in the House ofCommons. He will attend to no other business, except under the direstpressure--he has no other interests--though he used to be one of thegreatest of readers, and still can quote Shakespeare and othermasterpieces of English literature better than any man in the Houseexcept Mr. Justin McCarthy. Thus, when he rose after midnight, he hadin his notes before him a perfectly tabulated account of the riots inBelfast, so that every single fact was present to his mind. The story hehad to tell is already known--the attacks on Catholic workmen--onCatholic boys--on Catholic girls--by the sturdy defenders of law, loyalty, and order in Belfast. It was not an occasion for strongspeech--the facts spoke with their silent eloquence better than anytongue could do. The business was all done very quietly--it had thesombre reticence of all tragic crises; everybody felt the importance ofthe affair too deeply to give way to strong manifestation of feeling. But there were significant and profound, though subdued, marks offeeling on the Liberal Benches; and everybody could see what names werein the minds of everybody. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Asquith as leader. ]

Mr. Asquith was for the moment the leader of the House. Though he hasstill some of the ingenuous shyness of youth--though he is modest withall his honours--though he has charmed everybody by the utter absence ofswagger and side in his dazzling elevation--there is a readyadaptability about Mr. Asquith to a Parliamentary situation, which is asastonishing as it is rare in men who have spent their lives in theatmosphere of the law courts. The aptitude with which the right wordalways comes to his lips--his magnificent composure, and, at the sametime, his power of striking the nail right on the head and right _into_the head--all these things come out on an occasion such as that of April24th. Very quietly, but very significantly, he told the story of theriots; and very quietly and very significantly he spoke of theresponsibility of the Salisburys, and the Balfours, and the Jameses, whose wild and wicked words had led to this outburst of medievalbigotry. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Dunbar Barton. ]

Mr. Dunbar Barton made a valiant but vain attempt to stem the tideagainst him, but he, like every other Unionist, was weighted down by thefeeling that the Orangemen were doing immense service to the cause ofHome Rule by their brutality. However, the fumes of Unionist oratoryseem to have ascended to the heads of all the excitable young men of theTory party. Mr. Dunbar Barton, personally, is one of the gentlest ofmen; his manners are kind and good-natured enough to make him auniversal favourite--even with his vehement Nationalist foes; and hespeaks with evident sincerity. But he had so worked himself up that hebabbled blithely of spending a portion of his days in penalservitude--talked big about a mysterious organization which was beinggot ready in Ulster, and declared that the day would come when he wouldstand by the side of the Orangemen in the streets of Belfast. He waslistened to for the most part in silence, until he tripped into anunseemly remark about Mr. Gladstone, when the much-tried Liberals burstinto an angry protest. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Arnold Forster. ]

Very different was Mr. Arnold Forster. I must be pardoned if, as anIrishman, I always see something genial and not wholly unlovely even inthe most violent Irish enemy. We all like Johnston of Ballykilbeg--mostof us rather like Colonel Saunderson, and Mr. Dunbar Barton is decidedlypopular. But this Arnold Forster--with his dry, self-complacent, self-sufficient fanaticism--is intolerable and hateful. He never gets upwithout making one angry. There is no man whose genius would entitle himto half the arrogant self-conceit of this young member. Acrid, venomous, rasping, he injures his own cause by the very excess of his gall and bythe exuberance of his pretension. He also saw that the riots would do nogood, and he hinted darkly of what he called "ordered resistance, "whatever that means. But, on the whole, the advocates of the Orangemenmade a very poor show. 

[Sidenote: Tory obstruction. ]

The Tories thus early developed the policy of preventing the Governmentpassing any Bill--English or Irish--good or bad. Whenever a good EnglishBill stood as the first order--a Bill which they did not dare tooppose--they found some excuse for moving the adjournment of the House. This is a privilege which was intended to be used very rarely, but inthe course of the present Session it has been very freely resortedto--especially when it has afforded a chance of keeping off goodGovernment business. On Tuesday, April 25th, the excuse given was thatMr. Bryce had been guilty of political partisanship in adding a batch ofLiberals to the Bench in Lancashire over the head of Lord Sefton--theTory or Unionist Lord-Lieutenant of the county. Mr. Legh, a young, silent, and retiring Tory member, began the attack, and did so in a veryneat, well-worded, and pretty little speech. Mr. Hanbury--who is makinghis fame as a champion obstructive--followed this up, and Mr. Curzonaddressed the House in his superior style. Mr. Bryce was able to blow topieces the fabric of attack which had been so laboriously erectedagainst him by stating a few facts, of which these may be given as afair specimen. When Mr. Bryce came into office, of the boroughmagistrates in Lancashire 507 were Unionists and only 159 were Liberals. On the county bench there were 522 Unionists and 142 Liberals. This wasa crushing reply, and an even more satisfactory retort came in the shapeof the division, when 260 voted for the Government, and only 186against. 

[Sidenote: Tommy "Burt. "]

Nearly three hours of precious public time had been wasted over thiswretched business, and at last, for the third or fourth time, the debatewas resumed on the second reading of the Employers' Liability Bill. Anamendment of Mr. Chamberlain's had been the obstacle which stood in theway of the Bill all this time. After the debate had gone on for hours, Mr. Chamberlain got up and declared that his amendment had served itspurpose--an awkward way of putting it, which the Liberals were not slowto take up. The debate was made remarkable by the first speech of anyimportance made by Mr. Burt since he became a member of the Ministry. Mr. Burt is the most popular of members, and there was a ring of genuinedelight in the welcome given to the honest, modest, genuine working manstanding at the Treasury Bench, and symbolising the revolution of thetimes. Mr. Burt spoke ably and well, but it was in a foreigntongue--which it takes a little time for even a quick linguist tounderstand. This Northumbrian burr is the strongest accent in the House;even the broadest Scotch is less difficult to catch. It is curious howthe different parts of the country betray themselves by their speech. There are Scotchmen whom it is not easy to follow, and there are veryfew of them who speak with anything like an English accent. Even themost fluent of the Welshmen speak with a certain hesitation, betrayingtheir bilingual infancy and youth. The Irish have as many accents nearlyas there are members. The Northumbrian burr, however, is a tongue apart. It has the pleasantness of every foreign tongue, and since Mr. JosephCowen left Parliamentary life, Mr. Burt is the only member who speaks itin its pristine purity. The Tories were closured finally, though theyhad their revenge by preventing the Bill from going to the GrandCommittee, and the work of justice is a little longer postponed. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Goschen playful. ]

On Thursday, April 27th, the debate began on Sir William Harcourt'sBudget; and it found Mr. Goschen in an unusually playful mood. He had atask for which his talents eminently fitted him. Irresolute, timid, changeable, he is the very worst man in the world for constructivelegislation; but give him the opportunity of criticising what somebodyelse has proposed, and he is in his real element, and is, perhaps, thevery best man in the House of Commons. There wasn't much to criticise inthe Budget of Sir William Harcourt from the Tory point of view. Findinghimself with a deficit the Liberal leader was unable to go in for anystartling novelty, especially in a Session when everything is to beopposed in order that Home Rule may be defeated. But one would havethought that this would have delighted the timid and conservative soulof Mr. Goschen. Not a bit of it. Taking cleverly the rather auroralpromises of the election period, Mr. Goschen contrasted all these hopesand glowing prospects with the thin and meagre fare of Sir William'sBudget. It was very well done--full of unwonted fire, of biting andeffective raillery and of excellent party hits; it lit up for a briefspace the sombreness which has fallen so completely on the Tory Benchesin this year of wails and lamentations. 

[Sidenote: Sir William as an early Christian. ]

But the debate soon relapsed under a soporific speech from Sir JohnLubbock, who made an insinuating proposal to open a discussion on HomeRule in the midst of the debate on the Imperial Budget. Sir William wasa delight during these proceedings. Everybody knows that he has both awarm heart and a warm temper, and there have been times when thecollisions between himself and Mr. Goschen have seemed to indicate aviolence of personal as well as of party antagonism. But the duty ofgreat ministers is to practise the scriptural principle of turning theother cheek to the smiter. It is wonderful, indeed, to see how humanitycan attune itself to a situation. The most violent and vehementfree-lance below the gangway sobers down in office to politeness, andpeace with all men of good or bad will. Sir William, sitting on theTreasury Bench that night--beneath the wild tirade of Mr. Goschen--underthe dreary drip of Sir John Lubbock--was a sight that a new Addisonmight show to his child; not that he might see how a Christian mightdie, but how a great Christian official could suffer with all thepatience of silent and suffering merit. There was a look of almostdazzling and beatific sanctity on Sir William's face that was perfectlydelightful to behold. And when he got up to reply to Mr. Goschen and toSir John Lubbock, whither had departed that splendid rotundity ofvoice--that resonant shout of triumph or of defiance? Sir William coo'dgently as the white-feathered dove; and the Tory Benches, which had beenebullient with excitement a few moments before, could not find it intheir hearts to do other than listen reverently to this good and holyman expostulating with heathen foes. And thus the first resolution ofthe Budget got quietly through, which was exactly what the Chancellor ofthe Exchequer wanted; whereupon there might have been observed, perhaps, by a close looker-on, a sinking of one of Sir William's eyelids, whichmight have suggested in a lesser mortal the wink of the man who takesoff the mask when the comedy is over. Sir William is a splendid artiste. 

[Sidenote: A great night. ]

It was probably under the influence of Sir William that this turned outto be the greatest and best night the Government had had so far. TheRailway Servants' Bill got through its third reading amid cheers, andthen, before it knew where it was, the House found itself actually inthe same night discussing a third Ministerial measure--the ScotchFisheries Bill. It is one of the privileges of Scotland that nobodytakes the least interest in her measures outside her ownrepresentatives, and that even they are sombre and joyless in theexpression of their delight. The demand for Scotch Home Rule does notcome assuredly from the intervention of English or Irish speech. I havenever seen the House with more than a score or two of members when aScotch question is under discussion, and on the rare occasions on whicha Southron does dare to intrude upon the sacred domain, it is with themost shamefaced looks. And so Sir George Trevelyan and his Scotchfriends were allowed to have their nice little tea-party without anyinterruption, and the Bill got very nicely through. Thus ended aremarkable night. 

[Sidenote: The bullet in Downing Street. ]

And now I come to the point which, after all, had been the mostinteresting during the week, and which, though rarely mentioned, was ineverybody's mind. It was on the Thursday evening that Mr. Sexton got upquietly to ask whether the reports published in the evening papers weretrue, that a man had been arrested the previous night in Downing Street, who had apparently intended to attempt the assassination of the PrimeMinister. There was death-like stillness all over the House as Mr. Sexton put his question--picking his words slowly and deliberately. Ifmen were not so anxious and so shocked there might have been somedemonstration of the vehement anger which was felt in so many breasts asMr. Sexton brought out the words which put in collocation in the mind ofthe unfortunate lunatic the idea of attempting to kill Mr. Gladstone, and the phrase of Sir Henry James during the debate on the Home RuleBill. But feeling was too intense and solemn for outspoken or loudutterance, and Mr. Sexton was allowed to put his question to the endwithout any interruption from the intensely excited and profoundlythrilled assembly. This is one of the curiosities of Parliamentary andBritish nature--that the moments of tensest feeling are so often thosewhich, to a stranger, would appear listless, indifferent, impassive. Mr. Asquith spoke in tones suitable to the temper of the assembly. This wasa very grave matter, he said; but it was for the moment before thecourts of law, and his lips were sealed. And so the subject dropped. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Gladstone. ]

The people were asking themselves what would happen, when Mr. Gladstoneentered the House; but if there had been any desire to mark theoccasion, he himself prevented it. He dropped more quietly into his seatthan usual, and at the moment when, to a thin House, Sir William wasgiving one of those gentle and beatific answers to which I have alreadyalluded. To judge by Mr. Gladstone's quietness of entrance, nothingunusual had happened to him, and he himself had declined even to talkabout the matter. And yet there was a certain look as of reverie on hisface--as though of a man who had looked into that dark and hideous abysscalled Death. He had not been looking very well for some days, andperhaps there was not--though imagination saw it--a deadlier pallor thanusual on the face. But it was only when he was sitting on the desertedbench beside Sir William Harcourt that one had an opportunity ofdetecting any difference between his usual appearance and hisappearance at that particular moment. The minute he had any part to takein the proceedings of the House, he was just as alert, cheerful, self-composed as ever. This wonderful man is as much a miraclephysically as mentally. The giant intellect is backed by a steady nerve, the perfect mind by the perfect body. And thus he is able to go throughtrials, dangers, fatigues, which would destroy any ordinary man, asthough nothing had occurred. During this week, indeed, he was especiallyplayful. On the Tuesday night, when the onslaught was being made on Mr. Bryce, Sir Henry James spoke of Lord Sefton as being a strong Liberal. Mr. Gladstone uttered a quiet, gentle, deprecatory "Oh!" whereupon SirHenry James reiterated his statement with a look of surprise and shock. Mr. Gladstone didn't depart from his attitude of gentle and almostplaintive remonstrance. He waved his hand mildly, and with a smile, andSir Henry James was allowed to proceed to the solemn end of his solemnharangue. 

[Sidenote: A visit to the Lords. ]

It is not often that a rational man takes the trouble of paying a visitto the House of Lords. But that assembly was certainly worth a visit onMay 1st. When the fight in Woodford, County Galway, was at its height, and everybody was repeating the name of Lord Clanricarde, people beganto ask if there were ever such a person, or if he were not merely thecreation of some morbid imagination--desirous of conjuring up a humanbogey for the purpose of demonstrating the iniquities of Irishlandlordism. The story on the estate which he owned, and whose destinieshe controlled, was that, on one occasion, a strange spectral figure hadbeen seen following the coffin of the old Clanricarde to the tomb of hisfathers; that the figure had disappeared as suddenly and as noiselesslyas it had come; that it had not reappeared even on the solemn occasionwhen again the historic and century-old vaults of the family graveyardhad opened to receive the late lord's wife and the existing lord'smother. Writing his missives from afar--invisible, unapproachable, unknown--or known, rather, only by harsh refusal--by dogged, obduraterejection of all terms--save the full pound of flesh--not even renderedhuman by passionate and eloquent outburst of remonstrance, butrepresented by thin, brief, business-like and curt notes as of a verycrusty solicitor--such Lord Clanricarde appeared to the imaginations ofthe people of the district of which he was almost the supreme master. There were riots--fierce conflicts extending over days--then drearysentences of lengthy imprisonments, with gaol tragedies; but still thisstrange, dry, inarticulate, obstinate figure remained immutable, alwaysinvisible, unapproachable, obdurate, spectral. Even the Tory leaderswere disgusted and wearied, and Mr. Balfour was careful, in the verycrisis and agony of his fight with the National League, to disavow allsympathy with the strange being that was bringing to his assistance allthe mighty resources of an Empire's army, an Empire's exchequer, and anEmpire's overwhelming power to crush in blood, in the silence of thecell and the deeper silence of the tomb, all resistance to his imperiouswill. 

[Sidenote: Entry of a ghost. ]

It must have been with something of a shock that the House of Lords, with all its well-trained and high-bred self-control, found that thiscurious and fateful figure was within its gates. Probably, to scarcelyhalf-a-dozen of his colleagues and fellow-peers, was this figureanything but a strange and unexpected incursion from the dim ghost-land, in which, hermit-like, he seems to dwell. Indeed, the Marquis ofLondonderry was careful to explain that he had no personal acquaintancewith the man whose case he was defending against the action of theCommission presided over by Mr. Justice Mathew. And it was easy to see, that Lord Clanricarde was a stranger, and a very lonely one, too, inthat assembly in which he is entitled to sit and vote on the nation'sdestinies. On a back seat, on the Liberal side of the House, silent, forlorn, unspeaking and unspoken to, he sat throughout the long andtedious debate in which he was a protagonist. There was, indeed, something shocking to the sense--shocking in being so surprising--thatthis should be the figure around which one of the fiercest and mosttragic political struggles of our time should have surged. He is a manslightly above the middle height, thin in face and in figure. Somehow orother, there is a general air about him that I can only describe by theword shabby--I had almost ventured on the term ragged. The clothes hangsomewhat loosely--are of a pattern that recalls a half century ago--andhave all the air of having been worn until they are positivelythreadbare. Altogether, there is about this inheritor of a greatname--of vast estates--of a title that in its days was almost kingly--anair that suggests a combination between the recluse and the poor man ofletters, who makes his home in the reading-room of the British Museum. It was also a peculiarity of the position that he seemed an almostunwelcome visitant, even to those who had to defend him. There was anawful pause when he rose, silently and so spectre-like, from his seat inthe dim land of the back benches, and passed to the seat immediatelybehind the Marquis of Salisbury. Lord Salisbury made a very vivid andamusing speech in the course of the evening, in defence of LordClanricarde and in an attack on Mr. Justice Mathew; but observersthought they saw a look of palpable discomfort pass across his face atthe approach of the Marquis of Clanricarde. The Lord of Woodford handedto Lord Salisbury a little bundle of papers; in the distance, the bundlehad an inexpressibly shabby look--the look one might expect on thebundle which some Miss Flit of the Legislature would bring every day, asthe record of her undetermined claim. Altogether, this appearance ofLord Clanricarde in the glimpses of the moon, rather added to themysterious atmosphere in which he loves to live. 

[Sidenote: Sir Charles Dilke. ]

In the meantime, a very interesting debate was going on in the House ofCommons. I have already remarked that Sir Charles Dilke has, in anextremely short time, re-established that mastery over the ear and themind of the House of Commons which he used to exercise with suchextraordinary power in the old days before misfortune overcame him. Itis a power and mastery derived from a perfect House of Commons mind. SirCharles Dilke, doubtless, has written on many subjects outside merepolitics; but in politics his whole heart and soul are concentrated. There is no man in the House of Commons so thoroughly political. Itwould be bewildering to give even the heads of the subjects on which hehas written and in which he is profoundly learned. He has written aboutour Army--he could tell you everything about every army corps in theGerman Army--he knows all about every fortress on the Frenchfrontier--he can convey to you a photographic picture of every greatpublic man on the Continent--he would be able in the morning to takecharge of the Admiralty, and over and on top of all this knowledge hecould tell you every detail of the law of registration, of parochialrating, of vestry work, and all the rest of that curious technical, dry, detailed information which raises the ire of parish souls, and forms thefierce conflicts of suburban ratepayers. 

[Sidenote: Egypt. ]

It could be seen after he had been five minutes on his legs that SirCharles Dilke was about to give on Egypt a speech which would suggestthis sense of easy and complete mastery of all the facts, and that, therefore, the speech would be a thorough success. And so it was--sosuccessful, indeed, that it was listened to with equal attention by theTories as by the Liberals, though nothing could be more abhorrent to theTory imagination than the proposal by Sir Charles Dilke of an earlyevacuation of Egypt. Perhaps their indignation was a little mitigated bythe fact which Sir Charles Dilke brought out with such clearness, thatLord Salisbury was just as deeply committed to the eventual evacuationof Egypt as any other public man. 

[Sidenote: An awkward situation. ]

It was curious to watch the House of Commons during this debate. Thereis no doubt that a very awkward situation was before that assembly. Onthe one hand, there were the interests of the country--as they areunderstood by the Tory party; on the other, there was a very difficultparty situation--a situation difficult enough to tempt even the mostpatriotic, self-denying, and impartial Tory to gaze on the Liberalleaders opposite with a certain amount of mischievous curiosity. How wasMr. Gladstone going to make a speech which would fulfil those extremelydiverse purposes? First, leave the door open for a continued stay forsome time longer, and at the same moment for final evacuation; secondly, please Sir Wm. Harcourt on the one side, and Lord Rosebery on the other;thirdly, keep together a party which ranges from the strong foreignpolicy of moderate men to the ultra-nonintervention of Mr. Labouchere. Mr. Gladstone had, however, to do a good deal more than this. For it waseasy to see from the condition of the Tory seats, and especially fromthe attitude of the front Opposition Bench, that party instinct hadsuggested that this was just one of the occasions on which theGovernment might be put in a very tight place. Let Mr. Gladstone saysomething which would satisfy Mr. Labouchere, and immediately Mr. Goschen would be down upon him--the late Chancellor of the Exchequer hadthe air of a man who was thoroughly primed for damaging criticism andardent attack--with a philippic charging him with abandoning the mostsacred interests of the country. Indeed, it was quite evident that Mr. Gladstone had to face a very ugly little question, and that hispolitical foes had come down in full force to enjoy the spectacle of aChristian flung to the lions. 

[Sidenote: A historic triumph. ]

I cannot tell you how it was done--I have read the speech in the_Times_ report--and I know that some people brought away from the speechno other impression than that it was delivered in a low tone of voice, and was not easily grasped; but the fact is, that judged by results thislittle speech, not much above half-an-hour in duration, was one of themost extraordinary triumphs of Mr. Gladstone's long oratorical life. What constitutes the greatest of all Parliamentary triumphs? It is thatwithout abandoning your own principles, you shall so state a case thateven your bitterest political opponents will rest contented with, and beready to accept, your speech as the expression of their views. And thisis just what occurred. Mr. Goschen, I have said, came down to the Housechock-full of attack--I have, indeed, heard that he has confessed tohaving been prepared to make a speech of some length. On the other sideof the House there sat Labby--full of that dogged, immutable Radicalismwhich will make no distinction between Liberal and Tory when hisprinciples of foreign policy are at stake; and he was ready to pounceupon the Prime Minister if he had detected any departure from the narrowand straight path which leads to Radical salvation. In the backgroundwere the dim forces of Unionism, more eager--perhaps even morereckless--in readiness to attack Mr. Gladstone than his opponents on theopposite benches. And behind them and above them, in all parts of theHouse, was that countless host of busybodies, bores and specialists whosee in Egypt an opportunity of airing fads, fanaticism, or vanities. 

[Sidenote: A great eirenicon. ]

The paper which contained the list of pairs for the night was crammedwith the names of members from both sides, who, anticipating a debate ofhours' duration, had wisely resolved to spend the interval between themotion and a division in the bosoms of their families--miles away fromthe floor of the House of Commons. The Whips had prepared theirfollowers for a big division somewhere about midnight. And, lo! on allthis vast and turbulent sea of conflicting waves the Prime Ministerpoured half an hour of oratorical oil, and the waters were stilled, andthe great deep at perfect rest. In other words, Mr. Goschen threw awayhis notes; Labby advised Sir Charles Dilke not to go to a division; thedebate had not begun and then it was over, and all that followed wasaddressed to a House empty of everybody. The Old Man--dexterous, calm, instinctive--had spoken the right word to meet every view, and there wasnothing more for anybody to say. There is nobody else in the House whocan do it; when his voice is stilled, the greatest of all Parliamentarysecrets will die with him--the secret of saying the exact thing in themost difficult and embarrassing of situations. To the outside public, perhaps, this speech appeared nothing remarkable, and the allusions toit I have seen in the press have been few and perfunctory. You shouldhear House of Commons' opinion; you should listen to Unionists who hatehim, to Tories who distrust him, to know what an estimate was formed ofthis marvellous speech by House of Commons' opinion. 

[Sidenote: The triumph of the miners. ]

On the Wednesday, again, Mr. Gladstone gave another example of hisextraordinary dexterity. The miners had come down in full force todemand a legal eight hours. Sam Woods, of the Ince Division, on the oneside, John Burns, of the Battersea Fields, on the other, frowned on theOld Man and bade him surrender. Behind him sat the great Princes ofIndustry--silent, but none the less militant, fierce, and minatory;opposite him was Lord Randolph Churchill, ready to raise the flag ofSocial Democracy and to wave it before the advancing masses against theLiberal party. Out of this difficulty, Mr. Gladstone rescued himselfwith all that perfect, that graceful ease which he most displays whensituations are most critical. The debate was further made remarkable bya speech from Lord Randolph Churchill, who, amid the grim and ominoussilence of the Tory Benches, thundered against Capital and Capitalistsin tones for which Trafalgar Square or the Reformers' Tree would be theappropriate environment; and then came the remarkable division, with 279for the Bill and 201 against. 

[Sidenote: Hull Again. ]

This was not the only victory which Labour was able to win in the courseof this week. The House presented a very notable spectacle on May 4th. It was only by the aid of the Irish members, it is true, that Mr. Havelock Wilson was able to get the necessary forty to procure theadjournment of the House for the discussion of the Hull strike; butthen, when Mr. Wilson was enabled to bring the subject before the House, he was listened to with an attention almost painful in its seriousnessand gravity. Nothing, indeed, shows more plainly the vast social andpolitical changes of our time, than this transformation in the attitudeof the House of Commons towards labour questions. There was a time--evenin our own memory--when such a question as the strike at Hull would havebeen promptly ruled out of order; and when the workmen who rose to callattention to it would have been coughed or even hooted down; and hewould be certain to receive very rough treatment from the Tory party. The Tory party still remains the party of the monopolists and theselfish, but it has learned that household suffrage means a considerableweapon in the hands of working men, and, accordingly, though it may putits tongue in its cheek, it keeps that tongue very civil whenever itbegins to utter opinion. To Mr. Wilson, then, the Tories, as well as theLiberals, listened with respectful and rapt attention as he made hiscomplaint of employment of the military and naval forces of the Crownin--as he alleged--the buttressing of the case of the employers. And yetthere was a something lacking. Mr. Asquith was able to show that he haddone no more than he was compelled to do by the obligations of hisoffice; and entirely repudiated any idea of allowing the forces of theEmpire to be ranged on the one side or the other. Mr. Mundella was ableto make a good defence of his officials against the charge which hadbeen brought by Mr. Wilson. There was a good speech from John Burns, andit looked as if not another sympathetic word was going to be said forthose starving men and women, who are making so heroic a fight for theright to live. Altogether, the situation was awkward and evendistressing. The House, divided between the desire to remain neutral andto be sympathetic, was puzzled, constrained, and silent. It was at thismoment that Mr. Lockwood made a most welcome and appropriateintervention. Gathering together the scattered and somewhat tangledthreads of the debate, he put to Mr. Mundella several pertinentquestions--among others, the very relevant one, whether or not theShipping Federation had the right to employ sailors, whether they arenot violating the law against "crimping" in so doing. Incidentally, Mr. Lockwood remarked, amid cheers from the Radical Benches--delighted atthis opportunity of departing from its painful and embarrassedsilence--that Liberal members had been returned to support the cause oflabour, and that they ought to be true to their pledges. Mr. Gladstoneat once grasped the situation with that unerring instinct which he hasdisplayed so splendidly in the present Session, and at once undertookthat the point raised by Mr. Lockwood should be considered; and so, witha word of sympathy and hope to the strikers, Mr. Gladstone rescued theHouse and himself from a painful situation. 

CHAPTER XL. 

THE BILL IN COMMITTEE. 

[Sidenote: The first fence. ]

Yes, there was something intoxicating to an Irish Nationalist--after allhis weary years of waiting--in seeing the House of Commons engaged inCommittee on the Bill which is to restore the freedom of Ireland. And asI looked across the House on May 8th, with every seat occupied--withgalleries crowded--with that air of tense excitement which betokens thesolemn and portentous occasion--there rose to my brain something of theexaltation of passion's first hour. The Unionists might rage--the Toriesmight obstruct--faction might bellow its throat hoarse--Orangemen swearthat they would die rather than see Home Rule--for all that, nobodycould get over this great fact, of which I saw the palpable evidence atthat solemn and historic hour. 

But if for a few brief moments one was inclined to abandon oneself tothe intoxication of this great hour, there was plenty to bring one veryquickly back to solid earth, and to the sense of the long, dreary, andthorny road which Home Rule has yet to traverse. 

Time after time Mr. Chamberlain gets up to continue the obstructivedebate. Gravelled for matter, he clutches any topic as a means oflengthening the thin chain of his discourse. Mr. Redmond--the Parnelliteleader--happens to be for a few moments out of the House. Here at once, and with eager welcome, Mr. Chamberlain seizes upon this fact to stringa few sentences together--something after this fashion:--"I observe thatthe hon. And learned member for Waterford is not in his place. This isvery remarkable. Indeed, I may go further and say that this is a mostsinister fact. For we all know what the hon. And learned gentleman hassaid with regard to the kind of Parliamentary supremacy which alone hewill accept. Well, now we are discussing this very point of the Imperialsupremacy, and the hon. And learned gentleman is not in his place. Irepeat, Mr. Mellor, it is a very remarkable, a very significant, a verysinister, and instructive fact!" And so on and so on. 

[Sidenote: The stony silence of the Irishry. ]

This kind of speech had another object--it was to provoke Mr. Redmondinto a speech. For it was all the same to the Obstructives whospoke--provided only there was a speech. For, first, the speech of theIrish or the Liberal member consumed so much time in itself--and thenone speech justified another; and thus the speech by the Irishman, orthe Liberal, would give an excellent excuse for another series ofharangues by the Obstructives. And this brings me to describe one of theportents of the present House of Commons which has excited a great dealof attention and a great deal of unfeigned admiration. As speakers ofeloquence--as Obstructives--as Parliamentarians of exhaustlessresources--as gladiators, tireless, brave, and cool--and, again, asstormy Parliamentary petrels--fierce, disorderly, passionate--the Irishmembers have been known to the House of Commons and to all the worldduring all the long series of years through which they have beenfighting out this struggle. In this Parliament, and at this great hour, they appear in quite another, and perfectly new character. Amid all thegroups of this House they stand out for their unbroken and unbreakablesilence, for their unshakable self-control. Taunts, insults, gentle andseductive invitations, are addressed to them--from the front, frombehind, from their side; they never open their lips--the silent, stony, and eternal silence of the Sphinx is not more inflexible. And similarlymen rage, some almost seem to threaten each other with physicalviolence; _they_ sit still--silent, watchful, composed. Not all, ofcourse. There are the young, and the vehement, and the undisciplined;but that Old Guard which was created by Parnell--which went with himthrough coercion, and the wildest of modern agitations--which containsmen that have lived for years under the shadow of the living death ofpenal servitude--men who have passed the long hours of the day--thelonger hours of the night--in the cheerless, maddening, spectral silenceof the whitewashed cells--the Old Parliamentary Guard is silent. 

I have been in the House of Commons for upwards of thirteen years; andin the course of that stormy time have, of course, seen many scenes ofpassion, anger, and tumult; but the scene which ensued on May 8th, afterMr. Morley's motion, was the worst thing I have ever beheld. I am alover of the British House of Commons--with all its faults, anddrawbacks, and weaknesses, it is to me the most august assembly in theworld, with the greatest history, the finest traditions, the bestoratory. And, verily, I could have wept as I saw the House that night. It was not that the passion was greater than I have ever seen, or thenoise even, or the dramatic excitement, it was that for hours, there wasnothing but sheer downright chaos, drivel, and anarchy. 

[Sidenote: The unloosing of anarchy. ]

It began when Mr. Mellor accepted the motion for closure. At once therearose from the Tory Benches wild, angry, insulting cries of "Shame!shame! scandalous! the gag! the gag!" This would have been all right ifit had been addressed to Mr. Gladstone. Party leaders have to give andtake, and in moments of excitement they must not complain if theirpolitical opponents denounce them. But closure is the act of thepresiding officer of the House, and it has been an almost unbroken ruleand tradition of Parliament that the presiding officer shall besafeguarded against even an approach to attack or insult. It is atradition that has its weak side; but, on the whole, it is in accordancewith that great national English characteristic of subordination tonecessary authority and the maintenance of order, decency, andself-control as the trinity of public virtues and personal demeanour. IfMr. Peel had been in the chair he would have called those Tories toorder; and if they had persisted as they did, he would have promptlynamed the highest among them. Mr. Chamberlain was not ashamed to join inthose hoarse and disorderly shouts; and it was in this temper that thedifferent sides walked slowly, silently, and frowningly to the divisionlobbies. 

The moment the division was over, the storm which had been stilled brokeforth again, and with wilder fury. Lord Randolph Churchill, as I haveseveral times remarked, is not the man he was. I remember the time whenin such a scene he would have been perfectly at home; self-restrained, vigilant, and effective. But on this night it was nothing above mereinarticulateness--hoarse and ineffective fury--an almost painfulexhibition. Sometimes his lisp became so strong that he was scarcelyable to utter the words he desired to bring out. The Prime Ministerbecame "The Primisther, " the Chief Secretary the "Cheesesecry, " and allthis impotence was made the more manifest by thundering on the box withhis open hand--in short, it was all inarticulate, painful, perplexingemptiness, weakened and not fortified by prolific tub-thumping. Apoor--sad--nay, a tragic business. 

[Sidenote: The young man and the old. ]

Such was the young man; and then came the old. To all this inarticulate, hoarse, stammering passion, Mr. Gladstone opposed a speech gentle, persuasive, self-possessed; as admirable in its courtesy as in itsreserve of gigantic strength. With the deadly pallor of his face moreremarkable than ever--the white hair shining out, as it were, with thepeaceful suggestion of calm and strong old age--in a voice, low, soft, gentle--Mr. Gladstone uttered a few words which revealed all the greatdepths. In completely quiet, almost inaudible tones, he uttered thesepregnant words: "As to other passages in the noble lord's speech, I donot know whether he intended to intimidate me; but if he did, I do notthink he will succeed. " There they are--these few words--so simple, plain, even commonplace; but what a history--what a character--what agrandeur there is behind and beneath them! So splendid are they thateven Lord Randolph is touched to the quick, and he rises to explain. TheOld Man--suave, calm, unutterably courteous--hears him politely; andthen puts the whole case of the Government in a few, dignified, andtranquil words. 

[Sidenote: In the depths. ]

But the House, exalted to a higher plane of feeling by this great littlespeech, was soon dragged down again to the arena of chaos let loose;and, of course, Mr. Chamberlain was the person to lead the way to thedusty pit. Mr. Mellor had very properly attempted to stop the disorderlydiscussion of the closure; but Mr. Chamberlain was not in the mood torespect the authority of the chair or the traditions of the House ofCommons, and audaciously, shamelessly--with a perky self-satisfactionpainful to witness--he proceeded to violate the ruling of the chair--totrample on the order of Parliament, and to flout the Chairman. And thenthe waters of the great deep were loosed. A hurricane of shouts, yells, protests arose. Member got up after member--here, there, everywhere--always excepting the sternly silent Irish Bench, where satethe Irish leaders. A half-dozen men were on their feet--all shouting, gesticulating, speaking at the same time. In short, it was utterlyunlike anything ever seen before in the House of Commons; it broughtvividly back to the mind the tumultuous French Convention in the days ofthe French Revolution. 

[Sidenote: Deeper and deeper still. ]

It was almost a welcome break in this passionate and scarcely civilizeddin that a personal encounter between Mr. Chamberlain and Mr. Byles fora moment interrupted the tempest. Mr. Chamberlain, in hischaracteristically genial way, had spoken of the Irish members as havingbeen "squared. " The Irish members, habituated to insult--conscious ofMr. Chamberlain's object--had allowed the observation to pass unnoticed;but Mr. Byles--ardent, sincere, an enthusiast on the Irishquestion--shouted out, "How much would it take to square you?" At oncethere rose a fierce tropical storm. There were loud shouts ofapproval--equally loud shouts demanding an instant withdrawal; membersrose from every part of the House; in short, it was Bedlam let loose, and a scene impossible to describe. 

This was deep enough, but there was a lower depth still to be sounded;and again it was Mr. Chamberlain's plummet that descended down to theunfathomable bottom. "I do not, " he said to Mr. Byles, "object to thequestion, and I will answer it by saying that it would take a great dealmore than the hon. Member for Shipley will ever be able to pay. " Therethe words stand--in the immensity of their vulgarity, in theirunsurpassable degradation, let them lie. 

[Sidenote: The first fence. ]

Finally, May 10th saw the first fence taken. The genial and gentle T. W. Russell proposed the removal from the Bill of the Second Chamber--theChamber specially created for the protection of the loyal minority. Withsimilar and strange unscrupulousness, the Tories all trooped into thelobby against their own principles. They were accompanied by a fewfoolish Radicals--indeed, it was the hope of detaching a sufficientnumber of Radicals to place the Government in a minority which producedthe Tory apostasy from their own principles. There was a littleuncertainty as to the result, and everybody expected that the Governmentmajority would have been reduced to a dangerously low figure. When Mr. Marjoribanks read out a majority of 51--or a majority bigger than theusual one--there was a loud halloo of triumph and delighted surprisefrom the Liberal and the Irish Benches; and so the first big fence inthe Home Rule Bill was easily taken. 

[Sidenote: Obstructive Chamberlain. ]

By the middle of the sitting on the following day the House of Commonsstood face to face with the first clause. Under ordinary circumstances, the clause would have been passed after a few speeches--especially anddefinitely directed to the words of the clause; Mr. Chamberlain demandedthe right on this clause to discuss, not only the whole Bill with allits other clauses, but the past and future of the whole Home Rulestruggle. He quoted passage after passage from speeches delivered byIrish members years and years ago; in short, he entered upon a survey ofthe whole controversy. There were countless interruptions from the IrishBenches--not in the least because the Irish members cared for Joe'sattacks, but because such a roundabout discussion was altogether arevolutionary departure from all previous precedents; and would havebeen held distinctly out of order by any of the predecessors of Mr. Mellor in the chair. That good-natured and easy-going official, however, gave Mr. Chamberlain his head; and so, for an hour, he poured forth astream of clever, biting, but mean and irrelevant vituperation. 

[Sidenote: The G. O. M. 's greatest speech. ]

It was well that it should have been so; for to this speech the House ofCommons owes one of the most remarkable and historic scenes in its longhistory. Every reader of Parliamentary reports knows what it means tospeak at eight o'clock. By that time, three out of five at least of themembers of the House have gone to their dinners in all quarters ofLondon, and the assembly is given up to the faddists and the bores, whonever get another opportunity of delivering themselves. Nothing, therefore, could have been more unexpected than a speech from Mr. Gladstone at such an hour, and especially a speech which, in the opinionof many, leaves far behind anything he ever did. But, indeed, it isprobable that Mr. Gladstone himself had no notion when the sittingbegan, or even a few minutes before he rose, that he would say anythingvery special. It is one of the peculiarities of this extraordinary manto be always surprising you. His infinite variety, his boundlessresource, seem to be without any limitations. By this time, you wouldhave expected that one who had listened to him for nearly twenty yearswould imagine that he had no further oratorical worlds to conquer, andthat he certainly would not have waited to his eighty-fourth year to dosomething better than ever he had done before. But so it was. Inpassion, in destructive sarcasm, in dramatic force, in the rush andresistless sweep of language, Mr. Gladstone was more potent in thedinner hour of that Thursday night than he was ever at any other singlemoment in his almost sixty years of triumphant oratory. 

[Sidenote: His powers as a mimic. ]

Observers are divided as to his temper when he rose. Some onlookers, observing the tremendous force of voice and language--the broad, ample, and frequent gestures--the tremulousness that sometimes underlies theswell of passion--the deadly and startling pallor of the face--thoughtthat he was suffering from excitement almost touching and perhapsaffrighting to behold; while others thought that the chief and mostimpressive feature of this perfect tornado of triumphant eloquence, wasthe perfect calm that lay in the heart and bosom of all that storm. There are two things which will tell you of the omnipotence of anorator--one is the effect of his speech on foes as well as friends, andthe other is its effect upon himself. Both these evidences were present, for the Tories seemed to have been swept away by the cyclone asresistlessly as the Liberals and the Irish, and the Tory pæans in honourof the Old Man which were to be found in the Tory organs next day onlyechoed the bounteous and generous recognition of his matchless powerswhich one heard from Tories in the lobbies throughout the evening. Andas to the effect of the speech on Mr. Gladstone himself, it was to bringout a dramatic and mimetic power on which he very rarely ventures, andwhich in anybody but a perfect master of the House of Commons mightdescend into bad taste and bad tact. I know that Mr. Gladstone is reallytriumphant when he brings these qualities into requisition. I rememberthe last time he used them with any approach to the abundance of thisoccasion was when he was making the great speech which preceded hisdefeat in 1885 and the fall of his Government. On that occasion Iremember very well that the Old Man puckered up his forehead into athousand wrinkles, turned and twisted that very wonderfully mobile mouthof his--with its lips so full with strength and at the same time sosensitive with all the Celtic passion of his Highland ancestry--untilsometimes you almost thought it a pity he had not taken to the Lyceumand some of the great parts in which Mr. Henry Irving has made his fame. There was another occasion which dwells in my memory. It was on one ofthe nights of the debate on the Coercion Bill. He was describing thepromises of equal laws to Ireland, with the restrictions on Irishliberty which were contained in the Bill, and as he describedrestriction he gradually raised the fingers on one hand, then turnedthem spiral fashion until he had pointed the index finger to the roof---as though he were describing the ascent of a funambulist to the top ofspiral stairs. It was at once eloquent and grotesque, and the Housecheered and cheered yet again without any distinction of party--thefriends in admiration of the splendid eloquence of the gesture, the foesin hearty admiration of the great and perennial spirit of the great OldMan. 

[Sidenote: Comedy. ]

But on May 11th there was a new and a bolder departure. Most of myreaders have seen that remarkable little lay written by Mr. Gilbert forMiss Anderson to display the range and variety of her powers--"Comedyand Tragedy. " Mr. Gladstone gave proof of powers of equally wideversatility; and all at the expense of poor Joe. First for the Comedy. Imust quote the passage of the speech to explain what I mean:--

"My right hon. Friend has a bundle of quotations. He says he hasfortified himself. (Laughter. ) He said he had fortified himself againstme when I said there could be no supremacy without the presence of Irishmembers in this House. I never asserted anything of the kind. (Cheers. )'Oh, ' he said, 'I have got the papers'--(laughter)--and the partyopposite cheered at the expected triumph. (Laughter. )"

When Mr. Gladstone came to the words. "'Oh, ' he said, 'I have got thepapers, '" Mr. Gladstone began fumbling in his pockets, just as Mr. Chamberlain had done--with that air of distraction and coming despairwhich appears on everybody's face when he is anxiously seeking for animportant but mislaid paper; and the resemblance, heightened by just theleast imitation of Mr. Chamberlain's voice, was so striking, sostartling, so melodramatic, that the whole House, Tories and all, joinedin the wild delight of laughter and cheers--laughter at the comic power, delight at the splendid courage and exuberant spirit of the prancing oldwar-horse, delighted, exhilarated, and fortified by the joy of battleand by the richness of his own powers and courage. Even yet the comicvein was not exhausted. Mr. Chamberlain--as I have said--had madecopious quotations from past Irish speeches, and asked that they shouldbe retracted. "If the work of retraction were to begin, is my right hon. Friend, " asked Mr. Gladstone, with scorn in every tone, "willing tosubmit himself to the same process of examination? If the work ofretraction were to begin he would have a lot to do. " And then came thepassage which has already passed into Parliamentary history. "If we areto stand in white sheets, my right hon. Friend would have to wear thatornamental garment standing in a very conspicuous position. "

[Sidenote: and Tragedy. ]

And then came the other and the tragic note. Again I have to quote theexact words to convey the impression and explain the description:--

"If I were in the position of one of those gentlemen--if I had seen thewrongs and the sufferings of Ireland in former times, if the iron hadentered into my soul as it had entered into theirs, it would have beenimpossible. I should not have been more temperate possibly than some ofthem under those circumstances of the language I used. (Cheers. )"

It was when he uttered the words, "if the iron had entered into mysoul, " that Mr. Gladstone ventured on the bold gesture of striking hishand against his breast--a simple gesture, and not an uncommon gesturein itself--but you should have heard the resonant and thrillingvoice--you should have been under the entrancing and almost bewilderingspell beneath which at this moment all the imagination and emotion ofthe House lay supine, helpless, and drugged--to have understood theshiver of feeling which passed through everybody. And so he wenton--rising higher and higher--a deeper harmony in every note--a moresplendid strength in every sentence--till you almost thought you werelooking at some great bird--with the strength and splendour of theeagle, the full-hearted and passionate melody of the lark--as it soaredon, on its even and well-poised wing, higher and higher to the dim andblue ether of the upper air. 

[Sidenote: A strange scene. ]

Right to the last word, there was the same unbroken, passionate strengthand fervour, so that when it was all ended the House gave a start asthough it had to rouse itself from some splendid vision. And then camethat rude and quick awakening which, in the world of actualities, alwaysbursts in upon the most solemn and moving hours. At about half-pasteight every evening the Speaker or Chairman--whichever is in thechair--gets up and goes out to tea. Before doing so the presidingofficer calls upon the next speaker, and when the speaker has beennamed, cries "Order, order!" and promptly disappears into the room wherehis meal is laid. Scarcely had Mr. Gladstone sat down when Mr. Mellorcalled upon Sir Richard Temple, then cried "Order, order!" and, almostwithin a couple of seconds after Mr. Gladstone had concluded, hadvanished from the House. This was immediately followed by the stampedeof the rest of the House--for by half-past eight everybody was famishedwith hunger--and the Chamber was left empty, silent, and dim, with asuddenness that was startling, disconcerting, and a littledisillusioning. And then it was that the strongest proof was given ofthe effect of the speech. 

[Sidenote: The outburst. ]

The House, I say, became empty--but not altogether. The Irish Benches, which had become crowded as the great apology for Ireland was beingpronounced, remained still full--full, but silent. There was somethingstrange, weird, startling in those benches, full and yet silent, amidall this emptiness and almost audible stillness; and some of the Liberalmembers, who had left the House in the mad rush to dinner, quietly stoleback to see what was going to happen. The explanation of the mysterysoon came. After he sat down, ghastly pale, almost painfully pantingafter this tremendous effort, Mr. Gladstone tarried a little to recoverhimself--to say a few words to Mr. John Morley--to scribble a note. Atlast he rose, and then came the moment for which those silent IrishBenches had been waiting. With one accord, with one quick andsimultaneous spring, the Irish members were on their feet--hats andhandkerchiefs were waved; there was the suggestion of tears under theswelling cheers. Nor were the Irish left alone. The Liberals who hadslipped back joined in. The effectiveness of their cheers was heightenedby the fact that they were not in their places, but standing on thefloor. From out their cheering ranks stood the splendid figure--thebroad shoulders, the massive head, the shaggy beard and hair, all thevirility and sensitiveness that are found in the splendid form of Mr. Allen--manufacturer and workman, poet and Radical. The Old Man, splendidly composed, and yet profoundly moved, looked back, gave acourtly bow, and then went out. And here it was that a little scene tookplace of which the public prints have hitherto contained no mention. Inher corner place in the gallery had sat throughout this dazzling speechthat best of friends and truest of wives, who has been the guardianangel of Mr. Gladstone's life; and with outstretched hands and dim eyes, she received her triumphant husband in the corridor, where she had beenwaiting for him. 

[Sidenote: Deeper and deeper. ]

Friday, May 12th, I may dismiss in a few words. As the closure had beenrefused on Thursday night, the Obstructives started again on the firstclause on Friday afternoon--Mr. T. W. Russell leading the van. He hadnothing to say beyond what he had said a hundred times already, even inthe course of the present Session; and his speech would have passedunnoticed had it not been for a brisk but odious and ignoble littlestorm which he and the Tories managed to raise between them. Mr. Russelldeclared that he heard the phrase across the floor, "What the devil areyou saying?" and stopped as if the heavens and the earth must refuse togo round on their axes because of this introduction into Parliament ofthe negligences of private conversation. Mr. Gibbs--a very pestilent andvery empty member of the young army of silly obstructives--moved thatthe words be taken down--an ancient formula not heard of for years tillthe present Session, when everything is turned to account for thepurpose of occupying time and breaking down the House of Commons, and atthe same time accused Mr. Swift McNeill of having used the words. Mr. McNeill indignantly denied the charge: then Mr. Macartney attributedthem to Mr. Sexton--another and equally indignant denial; and then muchuproar and contradictions and apologies--the lubberly and unmannerlyinterventions of Lord Cranborne as usual conspicuous--and, finally, theend of the storm in a teacup. Positively loathsome--the whole businessmethods of the Tories to grasp at everything to rouse a storm or provokea scene; and altogether disheartening to those who don't wish to see theHouse of Commons reduced to the drivel and turbulence and anarchy of aFrench Convention. Finally, a little after six o'clock, the first clauseof the Bill had passed, with a majority of 42. The House of Commons haddecided that there shall be established in Ireland a Legislature of twoChambers. Then in a graceful, well-delivered, and pleasant littlespeech, Mr. Victor Cavendish opened the fight on the second clause. Theevening was devoted to the Anti-vaccinationists--answered triumphantlyin an admirable and unanswerable little speech by Sir WalterFoster--with as many as seventy men voting against vaccination. I had noidea previously that the proportion of lunatics in the Assembly was solarge. 

CHAPTER XII. 

RENEWAL OF THE FIGHT. 

[Sidenote: A fresh start. ]

Nothing of memorable importance occurred during the week before theWhitsuntide holidays, but with Tuesday, May 30th, came the renewal ofthe great battle over Home Rule. The Old Man was first to be observed. He looked very fresh and sunny, but, at the same time, had that slightlydeepened pallor which he always has on the first day of a Session--theresult of the long day's journey which he has gone through in comingfrom his country house. Mr. Balfour was also in his place, looking asthough the open rivalry of Lord Randolph Churchill had not much affectedhis spirits. Mr. Chamberlain nearly always looks the same. He hashimself informed the world that he does not take exercise in any shapeor form whatsoever, and there is never therefore, on his cheek that lookof deep-drunk sunshine which marks the cheeks of more active men. But hewas ready for the conflict, and as the night went on showed there was nodecrease in either the venom or the vehemence with which he means tofight against the Home Rule Bill. On the Irish Benches nearly every manwas in his place, and the Tories had so far benefited by theirbuffetings from the _Times_ as to make a braver show than they usuallydo in the early days after vacation. 

[Sidenote: Home Rule once more. ]

When the House separated, the subject under debate was an audaciousproposal to postpone Clause 3. There was nothing whatever to be urged infavour of such a proposal; it was pure, unadulterated, shamelessobstruction. But Sir Richard Temple is not gifted with a sense ofhumour, and on this amendment he wandered and maundered away for thebetter part of an hour. The House has yet no power to prevent a borefrom consuming its time; but it is free to save itself from the yoke ofattention. By a sort of general spontaneity, everybody left his seat;and though hapless Mr. Balfour was forced by the hard necessities of hisofficial position to remain in his place, nobody else was compelled todo so; and Sir Richard addressed the general, void, encasing air. Therewas some more speech-making of the like kind--still to empty air--whensuddenly and almost unexpectedly the debate was allowed to collapse. Atfirst, this was unintelligible--for, senseless as was the amendment, itwas no worse than scores of others which the Tories have made thepretext for endless debates. 

[Sidenote: A tight division. ]

However, the division revealed the secret. It is one of thepeculiarities of this strangely interesting Session that nearly everydivision is a picturesque and portentous event. With a majority so smallas forty, the turnover of a very few votes from one side to the othermay mean the defeat of Home Rule, the downfall of Gladstone and hisGovernment, and chaos come again. And these accidents are alwayspossible. Death knocks at the door of the families of members ofParliament as of other people; and often, when one of the greatdivisions is pending, the Whips have to consider the grim and painfulquestion whether they can allow a man to remain by the rack on which awife lies tortured, or receive a loving mother's parting sigh. For somereason or other, Tuesday was a bad day for the Liberals, and there was aseries of ugly and annoying little mishaps. Thus, in the first division, which was snatched quickly by the Tories, informed by their scouts ofwhat was going on, the majority sank to thirty-three. This was a badbeginning, but worse, as will be seen, remained behind. 

[Sidenote: Lord Wolmer. ]

The Committee was now on Clause 3. This is the clause which contains thelist of the subjects on which the Irish Legislature is not to have theright to legislate--such questions as the succession to the Crown, questions of peace and war, foreign treaties, coinage, copyright, trade, etc. The list is comprehensive enough, but it was not comprehensiveenough for Lord Wolmer; for he had an amendment to the effect that theIrish Legislature should not be allowed to pass even resolutions onthese subjects. But even his own amendment did not satisfy him. Heamended the amendment by further proposing that the Irish Legislatureshould not be allowed even to "discuss" any of these questions. Thespeech in favour of these proposals started from the point of departurecommon to all the Unionists, namely, that the Irish people werehereditary and irreconcilable enemies, and that the moment they had anative Legislature, it would immediately proceed to make alliances withevery Power in the world which was hostile to the British Empire. Therewas France; of course, the Irish Legislature would pass a resolution ofsympathy with France in case there was a war between France and England. Then there was the United States; what was there to prevent the IrishExecutive from sending an envoy to the United States? And so on, throughall the possibilities and all the insanity and malignity of which anIrish Legislature could be held capable. 

[Sidenote: Sweet and low. ]

Mr. Gladstone on one or two points was able to overthrow the whole caseso elaborately made up. The Irish Parliament could not sendrepresentatives to a foreign Power, because they could not vote themoney for such a purpose under the Bill. "Ah, but"--interrupted theincautious Wolmer--"could they not send envoys who were unpaid?" "No, "promptly responded the Old Man, "because they had no power under theBill to 'accredit' envoys, and a foreign Power could not receive anenvoy who was not accredited. " All this argument--broad, acute, tranquil--was delivered in a voice that now and then was painfully low, and sometimes you had to strain your ears. But then it was worth yourwhile to strain your ears, so that you might master all the supremacy ofthe art and skill and knowledge of the whole speech. 

For instance, he puts the question to Lord Wolmer, if he seriously meansthat the Irish Legislature is not to have the right to petition? LordWolmer answers that the Irish members will be in the ImperialParliament. "Ah! that's an argument, not an answer, " says the Old Man;and then, with the spring of a tiger, he pounces on the hapless Wolmerwith the question: "Is the right of petition, then, to be taken away inevery case where there is representation?"--a question which, withpetitions pouring in by the thousand to the House of Commons from theUlstermen and others, a Unionist like Lord Wolmer finds it impossible toanswer. And it is in connection with this point a little scene occurswhich brings out many of the points in this remarkable speech, which Ihave been trying to make clear. Mr. Bryce disappears from the House;then he returns: Mr. Gladstone asks him a question; the answer isapparently not satisfactory, for the Old Man lifts his hands to heavenin playful exaggeration of surprise. The House, puzzled, does not knowwhat it means; but the Old Man soon explains. He had sent Mr. Bryce tothe Library to get a copy of the recent Life of Lord Sherbrooke--RobertLowe, that was--and Mr. Bryce had brought back the discomfortingintelligence that the book was not there. However, with such a memory asMr. Gladstone's, this does not matter, for he is able to point out thatan Australian Legislature had at one time passed a resolution, andagreed on a petition to the Imperial Parliament, in reference to theCorn Laws. Just fancy the keenness, the omnivorousness, the promptitudeof that marvellous Old Man, who had read one of the most recentlypublished works, and had promptly seized on a point bearing reference toa detail in his Bill. 

[Sidenote: A pathetic scene. ]

And then came the pathetic scene, in which again Mr. Bryce figured, andwhich once more brought out the marvellous grasp, the tenacious andinevitable memory of the splendid Old Man. The amendment of Lord Wolmerwas, declared Mr. Gladstone, against "the law of Parliament, " and, byway of emphasizing this point, he wanted to have a quotation made fromSir Erskine May's Book on Parliament. But the eyesight of age is weak, and there is in the House of Commons, until the gas is lit, something ofthe dim, religious light of a cathedral, and, accordingly, Mr. Gladstonehad to rely on the younger eyes of Mr. Bryce. The scene which followedmight be described as out of order, for there were two members standingat the same time. But the vast ascendancy of Mr. Gladstone over theassembly--the profound reverence in which all, save the meanest, bowbefore his genius, character, and age--enable him to do things notpermitted to common men. In the rapt and serious face, in the attentivelook, in the fingers beating the table as word followed word inconfirmation of this view--in the curious, almost weird and unusualsight of two men standing side by side, Mr. Gladstone silent, Mr. Brycespeaking--there was a scene, the impressiveness, poetry, and pathos ofwhich will never pass from the memory of those who saw it. And theHouse--so quick, with all its passion, and fractiousness, andmeannesses, at grasping the significance of a great and solemnmoment--marked its sense of the scene by a stillness that was almostaudible--a hush that spoke aloud. 

[Sidenote: And yet another. ]

There was just one other incident in this marvellous little speech whichmust be noted. I have remarked the ofttimes the voice of Mr. Gladstonewas so low, that it was with difficulty one could hear him. The reasonis curious, and is revealed in a little gesture that has only come inrecent years, and that has a melancholy interest. Often now, when he isspeaking, Mr. Gladstone puts his hand to his right ear, as men do whoare making a laborious effort to catch and concentrate sound. The causeof this is that Mr. Gladstone's hearing has become defective, and he hasto adopt this little stratagem to make his own voice audible to himself. You should see the Old Man with his hand to his ear, with the look ofgentle anxiety on his face, to understand all this little gestureconveys; and how it exalts your sense of the mighty courage of thisgreat Old Man, who is able to rise thus superior to all obstacles, toall foes, to all weaknesses of the flesh, all devices of the enemy. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Balfour. ]

Mr. Balfour, I have said more than once, does not display his talentsbest in Opposition. In his desire to be effective, he strains a not verystrong voice until, it sounds almost like a shriek. I do not wish to beunfair to Mr. Balfour. There is, as I have often said in these columns, a certain distinction in all he does. I often think he is wanting inthat consideration and reverence for the mighty old gladiator whom it ishis duty to oppose; but for all this I make allowance, as it is his dutyto oppose Mr. Gladstone, and in doing that, he may sometimes appearunintentionally irreverent. But the fact is, Mr. Balfour is thin, narrow, and does not get at the reality of things. Many people say he isvery inferior to Mr. Chamberlain; but most assuredly I do not in theleast agree with this opinion. To me the difference between the two menis the difference between a scholar and a counter-jumper--I mean acounter-jumper of the Senate, and not of the shop. But though that is myopinion, I cannot refrain from saying that Mr. Balfour contrasts veryunfavourably with Mr. Gladstone in this struggle of giants. 

[Sidenote: An ugly moment. ]

It was during the speech of Mr. Balfour that a little incident tookplace, the full significance of which would probably not be grasped bythe non-Parliamentarian. Mr. Balfour was arguing that it was impossibleto properly discuss the amendment of Lord Wolmer until the House knewwhether or not the Irish members were going to be retained in theImperial Parliament. I do not know whether it was because there wassomething provocative in the manner in which Mr. Balfour referred tothis subject, but it had the effect of rousing the once vulnerable, butnow admirably controlled temper, which has played such a part in Mr. Gladstone's career. Rising with a certain deepened pallor, and with thatfeverish rush in his voice which those who watch him know so well hesaid that the Ministry meant to stick by the ninth clause, and would dotheir very best to get it accepted by the House. Here was a mostportentous announcement--the portentousness of which the carefulobserver could see at once, by the sudden stillness which fell upon theHouse. Whenever a Minister, or even a politician of small importance whois not a Minister, makes a statement full of portentous possibilities asto the future, the House suddenly becomes still and tense, and you canhear a pin drop. It is the prompt and sometimes almost irresistibleexpression of the feeling that Destiny is throwing the die, and that youhave to watch the grim and fateful result. 

[Sidenote: The Treasury Bench looks awkward. ]

And if you looked on the Treasury Bench, you could see that the feelingwas not altogether comfortable. It was no secret that the ninth clausewas the one which offered to the Government the one perilous fence theyhad still to take--that is to say, so far as their own followers wereconcerned. Hitherto the attitude of the Government was quite unknown;and, indeed, it was quite probable that the Government themselves hadnot finally decided what their attitude should be. But when Mr. Gladstone--pale, excited, and angry--jumped in with this outburst, itseemed all at once as if the fateful and final word of Destiny had beenspoken, and as if the whole fate of Ireland, of Mr. Gladstone, of thisgreat Ministry, and of this mighty Bill, had been definitely pledged toone throw of the dice. Imagine one of those contests which you find inthe pages of Turgenieff or Tolstoi, which perchance you may have seen atMonte Carlo, which in the last few days may have been observed at EpsomDowns--in which life or death, ruin or halcyon fortune, depended on onethrow--and you can have some sense of all that passed through theimagination of the House and that made it almost audibly shiver when Mr. Gladstone made this slight and terse interruption. Mr. Morley'sface--serious, often sombre--cast in a mould and reflective of a soulinclined to the darker rather than the more cheerful view of life'stangled and unsatisfactory workings--grew black and troubled; the otherMinisters who were present looked--not so eloquently, but stillperceptibly--uncomfortable; Mr. Asquith--who had been a closeobserver--could not keep his keen anxiety from breaking through the maskof easy equanimity with which he is able to clothe his readiness to meetfortune in all her moods; in short, it was for Ministerialists one ofthose uncomfortable quarters of an hour in which life seems toconcentrate all its bitterness, sorrow, and anxieties within a terriblybrief space of time. And if you wanted to know further what was the fullsignificance of what had taken place, you saw it in the open and almostindecent joy of Mr. Chamberlain's face; in the more subdued but a stillunctuous look of Mr. Courtney; and you could hear it in the shrillerpitch of Mr. Balfour's voice. 

[Sidenote: A false alarm. ]

But all the same, it was a false alarm. For if the Old Man had tripped, he was able to recover himself very soon. Mr. Balfour was foolish enoughto try and dot the "I's, " and to put into Mr. Gladstone's mouth thatwhich his enemies hoped he had said. For Mr. Balfour, remarking that Mr. Gladstone had made a more explicit declaration than any which had yetcome from his lips--this was all right, and was quite true--went on tothe further statement that the Old Man had now committed himself tostanding or falling by the ninth clause "in its present shape. " This, you will see, was the whole crux of the situation. If Mr. Gladstone hadsaid this, then, indeed, it might go hard with him by-and-bye, forwhether the Liberal party would accept the ninth clause in its presentshape was one of the questions yet to be decided. The Old Man, howeverhis words might have been open to this construction, had not in realitysaid anything of the kind. And, at once, he was prompt to see hownecessary it was to correct this error, for he immediately rose to hisfeet to say that he had never said anything of the sort. What he hadsaid was that the Government intended to stand by the principle that theIrish members were to have a place in the Imperial Parliament, which, itwill be seen, leaves open the perilous and perplexing question: whatform that representation in the Imperial Parliament is to take. At oncethere was a heavy sigh of relief, and most of all on the Irish Benches. Among the Irishry, the declaration of Mr. Gladstone had produced amoment of something like panic; the only exhibition of which was acertain impatience with the attempt of Mr. Balfour to pin the Old Mandown to the most literal interpretation of his words. The panic soonpassed away. It was all, I say, a false alarm. Vulnerable though histemper--though there was in him still enough of the hot onrush of battleand of resistance under all the snow of advancing years--the great oldtactician had not forgotten his cunning. He at once seized theopportunity of saying he was not finally committed to the ninth clausein its present shape, and so we once more breathed freely. 

[Sidenote: Joe comes back from dinner. ]

This was the end of the important part of the debate before the dinnerhour. It is one of the peculiarities of Mr. Chamberlain that no stressof a Parliamentary situation induces him to seriously interfere with hishabits. When the clock points to ten minutes to eight any evening ofthe week, he may be seen to rise from his place with the inevitablenessof fate, and to disappear for a couple of hours. I have seen him do thiseven when the fortune of a most important amendment seemed to lietrembling in the balance--the one occasion on which I have known him tobreak through that rigid rule was when his son was about to make thatmaiden speech which started that promising young fellow on hisParliamentary career. Coming back like a giant refreshed about teno'clock, Mr. Chamberlain contrived to once more set aflame the embers ofdying passion; and he threw himself into the fight over Lord Wolmer'samendment at the moment when all life seemed to have gone out of it. Hisspeech was full of cleverness--of what the Americans call smartness, andit had all that point, personal and party, which sets your friends in aroar. The Tories cheered him vociferously, and point after point ofbrilliant and effective invective pleased the House--always anxious withits jaded appetite for a sensation. But when you had time to compare, itwith that little speech delivered by Mr. Gladstone earlier in theevening--when you contrasted its fitful and gaudy brilliancy with thesober and broad wisdom of Mr. Gladstone's utterance--then, indeed, youwere able to see what a gulf there is between the smart debater and thegenuine statesman. 

[Sidenote: A narrow shave. ]

At last the debate was over; and then came what was, perhaps, the mostexciting and most momentous incident of the evening. I have alreadyspoken of the interest with which every division is regarded. Theinterest in this particular division was fully justified when thenumbers were told; for the Government majority had fallen to twenty-one. At once there was a wild outburst of cheering from the Tory Benches. Some wits ventured on the cry, "Resign! Resign!"--altogether, the Torieshad the best quarter of an hour they have enjoyed since that hideousafternoon before the Easter vacation, when, after a prolonged fight, theOld Man had to announce that he could not propose the second reading ofthe Bill until after Easter. It was all more or less of an accident;there were plenty of things to account for it--a reception at the Houseof a prominent Liberal lady, and many other explanations: but, all thesame, it was a very ugly little incident; and though Mr. Gladstonecarried it off with that indomitable courage of his, which doesn't knowwhat a confession of defeat means, one could see that he did not likeit; and for the rest of the evening there was a visible gloom in theLiberal ranks. 

[Sidenote: Happy again. ]

But May 31st brought the Derby, and with the Derby there came upon theTory Benches one of those moments of temptation which the natural man isutterly unable to resist. The amendments followed each other in rapidsuccession; division came on top of division; and in them all theLiberals jumped back to their old superiority of numbers. In the earlierpart of the day, when the fortunes of Isinglass were still undetermined, the majorities were enormous; and though there was a certain falling offwhen sporting gentlemen began to get back from the dusty Downs, theaverage was well kept up; and it was with a distinct rise in thetemperature of Liberal hopes and confidence that this stage was reached. On the following day the lowness of the voice in the Old Man was alittle more perceptible, and when it got to midnight, he seemedpainfully fagged and exhausted. It was, perhaps, because he was in thatmood that he made some concessions to the Unionists, which have beensomewhat resented. But as these concessions, according to Mr. Gladstonehimself, only carried out what the Government had intended from thefirst, these things may be passed. They had reference chiefly toprohibition of raising in Ireland anything like a military force--evenin the shape of a militia or volunteer force. On June 2nd, there was oneof those transformations in which the Old Man is constantly surprisingfriends and foes. He was alert, vigorous, watchful of everything thatwent on, and the voice rose to its old strength and resonance. It wasduring that afternoon that there was a slight indication for the firsttime throughout the progress of the whole Bill of any dissatisfaction onthe part of the Irish members. Mr. Byrne--one of the Unionist gang oflawyers--proposed a ridiculous amendment, the effect of which would havebeen that the Irish Legislature would not have had the right to give alicense for a fowling-piece, or to arm their police to meet a rising ofthe Orangemen. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Sexton intervenes. ]

It was then that Mr. Sexton intervened with a word of warning againstsuch a restriction. In burning though carefully restrained language, Mr. Sexton replied to a taunt of Mr. Chamberlain at the silence of the Irishmembers. Their silence, said Mr. Sexton, was due to their knowledge thatMr. Chamberlain and his confederates had entered into a conspiracy todestroy the power of the House of Commons, and to defeat the mandate ofthe nation by obstructing a Bill they could not otherwise defeat. Spokenwith great fire--with splendid choice of language--with biting sarcasm, of which he is a master--the speech was an event. Mr. Gladstone promptlyrecognized its spirit; thanked the Irish members for theirconsideration; and then declared, amid a great sniff from Joe's upturnednose, that if the Irish members desired to express their opinions on anyamendment, he and his colleagues would wait before expressing their ownviews. There seemed to be a slight hope among the Tories and theever-venomous Joe that this meant a rift in the lute between the Irishmembers and the Government; but they were woefullydisappointed--especially when the amendment was indignantly rejected bythe House. 

[Sidenote: The "Daily News. "]

It is the outspoken, rather than the loudly uttered, that is often theimportant thing in a House of Commons discussion. This was the case withthe curious little debate which Mr. Chamberlain initiated on June 6th. The _Daily News_ had published a little article describing the mannerin which the Tories had shouted at--hooted--interrupted--Mr. Gladstoneon the Thursday night previous. It may at once be asked why Mr. Chamberlain should have thought it necessary to notice the article. Heboasted that he was not in the habit of noticing what appeared againsthim in the newspapers--which is not true to a certain extent, or atleast is not generally so thought, for it is understood that no manreads more carefully the extracts sent to him by those press-cuttingagencies which have added either a new luxury or a new terror to publiclife. But Mr. Chamberlain's action had many roots. First, like manyothers, very free in their comments and attacks, he is almost childishlysensitive. Watch him in the House of Commons when an attack is beingmade upon him which he does not like, and the fierce and domineeringtemper reveals itself in the fidgety movement, the darkened brow, thedeeper pallor on the white-complexioned face. When he was a CabinetMinister he could never, or rarely, be got to remain in the House ofCommons during the whole of the evening; and one of the chief reasons, Ihave heard, he gave for thus absenting himself was that he could notstand the talk from the opposite side--it made him so angry. 

[Sidenote: Joe's motives. ]

But there were other and more immediate reasons for his anger with the_Daily News_. Joe was conscious of the growth of two feelings--either ofwhich was very perilous to him. First, he began uneasily to feel thatthe country--watching the struggle between him and the Old Man--wasgetting a little disgusted at the business; and saw in it a want of thatchivalry and fair play which it desires to see even in the fiercestpolitical controversy. This was not a pleasant sentiment to have growingup against one; and Joe felt that it has serious perils to his futurepolitical position. And, secondly, he was conscious that the majority ofthe House of Commons was growing very restive under the desperateobstruction of which he had made himself the champion, and that thisfeeling might soon become strong enough to carry Mr. Gladstone and theMinisters off their feet, and compel drastic measures which had hithertobeen steadily refrained from. This would not suit the book of Joe atall, whose object it was to keep the struggle going as long as hepossibly could manage it, careless of the traditions of Parliament, ofthe dignity and decency of the House of Commons, of the life andstrength of Mr. Gladstone, of everything except his own greedy desirefor personal revenge and triumph. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Gladstone's gentleness. ]

This was what lay behind the plausible and honeyed words in which Mr. Chamberlain attacked the article in the _Daily News_. And here a curiousdifficulty arose which rather helped Joe, and almost enabled him toscore a great triumph. Everybody knows that between the temper of Mr. Gladstone and that of his friends and supporters there is an impassablegulf. That mastery of a vulnerable temper, which accounted for many ofthe troubles of his earlier political career, which he himself hasacknowledged in many a pathetic passage in his correspondence--thatmastery of the vulnerable temper is now so complete that the Old Manglides through scenes of insult and passes over what the humblest memberof the House would often find it hard to endure. There is somethingindeed strange, wistful, almost uncanny, in the unbreakable gentlenessof that white figure, with the ivory complexion, the scant white hair, the large white collar and broad white shirt-front--there is somethingwhich becomes almost an obsession to the observer in watching the figurewith its strangely tranquil and gentle expression in the heat and centreof all this fierce Parliamentary battle. 

[Sidenote: And eagerness. ]

And what makes it all the more peculiar is that this strange gentlenessdoes not go side by side with want of interest in the struggle. On thecontrary, all those around him and near him declare that never has Mr. Gladstone been more keen of any subject than he has been on this HomeRule Bill. He thinks of nothing else; he enjoys it all. I saw a curiousinstance of this intensity of his interest about that time. Having aword to say to one of the Ministers, I was seated for a moment on theTreasury Bench just beside the Chairman--Mr. Mellor. Mr. Gladstone hadgone out for a few minutes. Sir William Harcourt was in charge of theBill, and he was replying to some argument of the Unionists opposite. Sir William Harcourt has an excellent method of dealing with futile anddishonest amendments. He declines to argue them in detail. With thatrich humour of which the public know less than his friends andintimates, Sir William airily dismisses the whole business, and with alaugh brings down shivering to the ground a whole fabric of laboriouslyconstructed nonsense. Well, Sir William was in the middle of a sentencein which he was speaking of the absurd suspicion of the Irish peoplewhich was entertained by the Tories--and Mr. Gladstone, entering frombehind the Speaker's chair at that very moment, just caught that onephrase. It was impossible for him to hear more than that one word"suspicion"; but at that word he pricked up his ears, and while he wasstill walking to his place--before he had seated himself--"Hear, hear, "he cried. His eagerness would not let him wait till he had taken hisseat. His absolute absorption in the Bill before the House was socomplete that, as he walked to his seat, you could see the rapt andconcentrated look, which showed that, even during the few minutes he hadbeen away, the brain had never left for one second its absorbing theme. 

[Sidenote: The consolations of old age. ]

But--as I have indicated--this complete subjugation of temper which Mr. Gladstone has achieved, has its disadvantages when such a conflict isprovoked as that with Mr. Chamberlain on the article in the _DailyNews_. Mr. Gladstone himself spoke of the consolations of old age; thereis one consolation he did not mention. His absorption in the Bill andthe slight deafness in one of his ears do not allow him to perceive soplainly the rude noises and interruptions by which he is often assailedfrom the Tory Benches. Moreover, the native chivalry of his disposition, the curious simplicity which has remained his central characteristic, inspite of all the experiences of the baser side of human nature whichmust have been crowded into all that half a century of official andParliamentary life--that unwillingness to see anything but deplorableerror in his most rancorous, meanest, and most malignant opponent--allthese things make it difficult for him to understand the ugly realitieswhose serpent heads show themselves plainly to almost every other eyebut his. 

There is a dispute among the authorities as to the incidents of thatThursday night--some, even among those friendly to the Prime Minister, declaring that there was nothing unusual in the interruptions of thatnight. My own recollection is clear that there was a great deal ofnoise, and that it was so bad that Mr. Chamberlain tried to explain itaway, and was careful to absolve himself and his friends from allresponsibility for it. In the general body of the Liberal party there isno doubt whatsoever about that business. Liberal after Liberal came upto me afterwards, in allusion to a few remarks I felt it my duty tomake, to declare their entire agreement with the view I had putforward--that the description of the _Daily News_, though consciouslyand obviously written in the vein of parody, was a fair and justdescription of what had taken place. Sir Henry Roscoe is not anexcitable politician, though no man holds to the Liberal faith morefirmly. He was met on the following Sunday by a friend, and when askedhow he viewed the situation, declared that he was rather "low!" Why? hewas asked. Because his heart was saddened and enraged by the treatmentof the splendid Old Man by Mr. Chamberlain and the Tories. To a leadingLiberal Minister, two Tories privately declared that their pain andshame and disgust with the conduct of their own side to Mr. Gladstonewas so profound, that they had to get up and leave the House to controltheir feelings. 

[Sidenote: A complex situation. ]

When, therefore, Mr. Chamberlain came forward with his audaciouscomplaint, this was the curious situation: that the bulk of the Liberalparty, and many even of their opponents, were convinced that thecomments of the _Daily News_ were more than justified. The franticcheers with which each successive sentence of the scathing attack in thedescription was punctuated by the Liberal and Irish Benches, as Joe, with affected horror, read them out, sufficiently indicated what theythought. And, on the other hand, the man in whose defence this reply tohis assailants was made was just as convinced that his enemies had beenunjustly assailed, and that he himself had been well and courteouslytreated. In such a situation it was just possible that Mr. Chamberlainwould escape from his position with flying colours; would have the_Daily News_ censured for falsehood by a House of Commons that believedin its truth; and have himself declared chivalrous by a Parliament thatknows him to be malignant, unscrupulous, and merciless. To prevent sucha catastrophe it was a painful but necessary duty to bring out therealities of the case; and not only a painful but also a thankless dutyin face of what everybody knew would be the attitude of Mr. Gladstonehimself. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Gladstone shakes his head. ]

For Mr. Gladstone did not delay long in indicating to the House what hisattitude would be. When I was speaking and denouncing the rudeinterruptions of the eventful Thursday night, he shook his headominously and in contradiction--though manifestations which came fromLiberal and Irish Benches showed that he stood alone in his view of theevents of that night. And it was no surprise to the House, therefore, when he stood up and said that he entirely disclaimed any feeling ofresentment for anything that had been done to him, and that he confessedhe had not perceived the interruptions to which the report of the _DailyNews_ had called attention. After this, there seemed no more to besaid; but the battle was not yet over. The Tories had been charged bothby the _Daily News_ and by a speech in the House with want of courtesyto Mr. Gladstone. Nobody knew better than Mr. Balfour how much groundthere was for such a charge; for often in the course of the presentSession--with a dark frown on his face, with an almost violentgesture--he has called on his unruly followers behind him to conductthemselves. The effect of what had taken place was to extort from Mr. Balfour a tribute to the universal respect in which the Prime Ministerwas held--a tribute which the splendid Old Man acknowledged by a lowbow; and, in short, the Tories had to bind themselves over to keep thepeace by their professions of a chivalrous desire to respect the personand the feelings of the great Prime Minister. And thus it was that itended for the moment in a drawn battle--Mr. Chamberlain having towithdraw his motion, and I my amendment. 

[Sidenote: Slow progress. ]

But in the meantime the progress with the Bill was terribly slow. Wewere now on the second week with the third clause. Amendments weredisposed of one night only to find that the next day the number ofamendments, instead of being diminished, had been increased. It would bea sheer waste of time and space to go into detail about theseamendments. The third clause is the clause which deals with thequestions that are to be excluded from the Irish Parliament. The list issufficiently long--peace and war--the Crown--the Lord-Lieutenancy--tradeand commerce--the coinage and the currency--copyright andnavigation--treason and treason felony. But even this list was notsufficiently long for the Unionists. They propose to increase this listof exemptions until, if they succeeded, the Irish Legislature would haveto shut up shop for want of business to attend to. One man gravelyproposed that the Irish executive--being made responsible for the peace, order, and good Government of Ireland--should not have the right tosettle the procedure in the Irish criminal courts. Another gentlemanproposed that all cases referring to criminal conspiracy should be leftto the Imperial Government and Parliament. The meaning of all this wasthat the Unionists wanted to draw a ring fence around the Orangemen ofUlster, who had been threatening rebellion. First, by one set ofamendments the Irish Government was not to have a police able to putthem down, and then the Irish courts were not to be able to convict themwhen they broke the law. 

[Sidenote: The hours of labour. ]

On June 9th the Unionists were on another line. They professed to thinkthat if the Irish Legislature were not compelled to do so they would notprevent overwork and long hours. This led to the proposal that alllegislation on hours of labour should be taken out of the hands of theIrish Parliament. Mr. Chamberlain argued this with his tongue in hischeek--professing to dread the unequal competition in which poor Englandwould be placed if wealthy Ireland were allowed to compete unfairly bylonger hours. He urged this in a speech directed to every absurdprejudice and alarm which the ignorant or the timid couldfeel--altogether made a most unworthy contribution. John Burns--breezy, outspoken--not friendly to all things done by the Liberals in the past, but firm in his Home Rule faith--went for Mr. Chamberlain in good, honest, sledge-hammer, and workmanlike fashion. The member for Batterseaeven dared to blaspheme Birmingham--the Mecca of the industrialworld--for its notoriously bad record in industrial matters--an attackwhich Joe seemed in no way to relish. And all the time the Old Man--withhis hand to his ear, and sitting on the very end of the Treasury Bench, so as to be nearer the speaker--listened attentively, sympathetically, occasionally uttering that fine leonine cheer of his. It was on thisamendment that the Ministerial majority fell, owing to variousaccidents, to 30, and the Tories cheered themselves into a happycondition of mind for a few minutes. 

[Sidenote: The guillotine--but not yet. ]

Towards the end of the sitting there was a certain feverishness ofexpectation. Dr. McGregor, a Scotch Highland member, had announced thatat half-past six he would move the closure of the third clause--on whichwe had now been working for a fortnight. But Mr. Mellor refused to putsuch a drastic proposal on the suggestion of a private member. Therewas, however, a very plain intimation that if a Minister were to makesuch a proposal it might be considered differently; all of which meantthat we were approaching--slowly, patiently, forbearingly--but stillapproaching the moment when drastic steps would be taken to accelerateprogress. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE SEXTON INCIDENT. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Sexton. ]

The resignation of Mr. Sexton, early in June, seemed to point to one ofthose disastrous splits in the Irish ranks which have always come at thewrong moment to spoil the chances of the Irish cause. There were manywhose memories were brought back by the event to that trying and strangetime when Mr. Parnell fought his desperate battle for the continuance ofhis leadership. But then there were many modifications of the position, and the chief of these was the much greater tranquillity with which theaffair was regarded; and the general faith that the Irish members wouldbe wise enough to settle their differences satisfactorily. Still therewere some very ugly moments. 

[Sidenote: A Conservative opportunity. ]

Nothing could be more galling, for instance, to those who had charge ofthe Home Rule Bill, than to look across at the Irish Benches and see avast and aching void in the places where the representatives of thepeople mainly concerned are accustomed to sit. The Tories were not slowto utilise the moment; and if things had been different--if the HomeRule cause had not got so far--they would probably have been able tostop progress with the measure altogether. But fortunately the Home RuleBill was in committee--and whether men like it or not, it is impossiblefor them to avoid something like business discussion when a Bill is incommittee. There is the clause under discussion; there are theamendments to it, which stand on the paper; the clause and theamendments have to be spoken to; and it is impossible, within the limitsof a discussion so defined, to introduce a subject so extraneous as adomestic difficulty in the Irish ranks. But, at the same time, theopportunity was too tempting to be altogether passed without notice. SirJohn Lubbock has taken a prominent part at times in opposing the HomeRule Bill. Sir John is a most estimable man, has written some veryentertaining books, and in the City has appropriate rank as both anerudite and a rich banker. But he does not shine in the House ofCommons. His voice is thin and feeble, and his arguments, somehow orother, always appear wire-drawn. And then the House of Commons is aplace, above all others, where physical qualities go largely towardsmaking success or failure. A robustious voice and manner are the veryfirst essentials of Parliamentary success; and no man who is not giftedwith these things has really much right to try Parliamentary life. However, Sir John Lubbock was not strong enough to withstand thetemptation of making capital out of Irish misfortunes; and he pointed tothe Irish Benches, with their yawning emptiness, as a proof that theIrish members took no interest whatsoever in the Home Bale Bill. 

[Sidenote: Irish objections to divorce. ]

Meantime, in the House itself the Home Rule Bill was crawling slowlyalong. The Unionists were at their sinister work of delaying itsprogress by all kinds of absurd and irrelevant amendments. For instance, one Unionist wished to restrict the Irish Legislature as to the law ofmarriage and divorce. Mr. Gladstone has over and over again pointed outthat, as the Irish have one way of looking at these things, and theEnglish another, it would be absurd not to allow the Irish Legislatureto settle such a matter in accordance with Irish feeling. Curiouslyenough, the Unionists did not receive much encouragement on this pointfrom the Irish branch of the enemies of Home Rule. Mr. Macartney, anIrish Orangeman, proclaimed on the part of his co-religionists that theIrish Protestants had nearly as much objection to divorce as the IrishCatholics; and, so far as that part of the amendment was concerned, hehad no desire to see it pressed. What he apprehended was a change in thelaw for the purpose of prejudicing mixed marriages--marriages betweenCatholics and Protestants. Mr. Gladstone, it is well known, on thequestion of divorce is a very sound and very strong Conservative. Thesturdy fight he made against divorce still lives in Parliamentaryhistory, and has often been brought up--sometimes in justification ofequally stubborn fights--against him. It is one of the points on whichhe does not seem to have much modified his opinions, in spite of theadvance of time, and all that has taken place in the long stretch ofyears between now and the day when an unbelieving and pagan ministerlike Lord Palmerston enabled men and women to get rid of adulterousspouses. But Mr. Gladstone declined to be drawn. 

[Sidenote: Disestablishment. ]

On June 18th, Mr. Bartley proposed an amendment to a restriction in theBill with regard to the establishment and endowment of any church. Bythe Bill--as is pretty well known--the Irish Parliament are forbidden toconfer on any church the privilege of State establishment and Stateendowment. To this restriction no Irish member has ever raised the leastobjection. It was reserved for Mr. Bartley--one of the most vehementopponents of Irish nationality and an Irish Parliament--to declare thatsuch a restriction would make the Parliament unworthy of the acceptanceof a nation of freemen, and to propose that accordingly it should beremoved. The position, then, in which the Irish opponents of the Billwere placed, was this--that while denouncing the supremacy andencroachments of the Catholic Church as one of the main objectionsagainst the Bill, they proposed that the Irish Parliament should havethe right to establish and endow that very Church. Mr. Balfourperceived--under the light thus borne in upon him--that this was not anamendment which the Tory party could safely support; and he accordinglyadvised Mr. Bartley to withdraw it. Mr. Gladstone made a few scornfulobservations; and, without a division, the proposal was huddled out ofsight. It was almost a pity. It would have been such an instructivespectacle to see the whole Tory party voting that the Catholic Church inIreland should have the right to be endowed and established; and some ofthe Irish members felt this so much, that they were very much inclinedto force the Tories to a division. But they let the incident pass. 

[Sidenote: The triumph of the tweed coat. ]

It is one of the curious things about Parliamentary life in England, that the smallest detail of personal habit attracts the all-searchinggaze of the entire world. Let a man change the shape of his hat, thecolour of his clothes, the style even of his stockings, and the worldknows it all before almost he is himself conscious of the change. Andthen, though the House of Commons consists for the most part of men welladvanced in middle life--men who have made their pile in counting-houseor shop, before devoting themselves to a Parliamentary career--it isalso a House where wealth and fashion are very largely represented. Itis often a very well-dressed body; and in this House of Commons, inparticular, there is a very large proportion of well-tailored andwell-groomed young men--especially, of course, on the Tory side. Theconsequence is, that you are able to trace the transformations offashion, the processions of the seasons, the variety of appropriategarbs which social and other engagements impose, as accurately in theHouse of Commons as in Rotten Row. 

[Sidenote: The old order. ]

The ordinary tendency of the Parliamentary man is towards the sombreblack, and the solemnity of the long-tailed frock-coat. There have beentimes when if a member of Parliament did venture to enter the House ofCommons in a coat prematurely ending in the short tails of the morningcoat, or in the tail-less sack-coat, he would have been called up to theSpeaker's chair and as severely reprimanded as though he had committedthe most atrocious offence--in those far-off days--of wearing a pot-hat. But in these democratic times one can do anything; and low-crowned hats, sack-coats, homespun Irish tweeds, affright and shock the oldaristocratic Parliamentary eye. When summer approaches, the whole aspectof the House changes. The sombre black is almost entirely doffed; andyou look on an assembly as different in its outward appearance from itsantecedent state as the yellow-winged butterfly is from the grim grub. Indeed, members of Parliament seem to take a delight in anticipating thechange of dress which the change of season imposes. There are members ofthe House of Commons who can claim to wear the very first white hat ofthe season. Sir Wilfrid Lawson has a sombre creed and a Bacchanalianspirit; and, accordingly, the very first time a mere stray gleam ofsunshine streaks the wintry gloom Sir Wilfrid wears an audaciously whitehat. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Gladstone's rejuvenescence. ]

Mr. Gladstone is a curious mixture of splendour and carelessness. Henearly always wears a small, narrow black tie, which brings into greaterrelief the Alpine heights and the measureless width of his bigshirt-collars, and the broad expanse of his shirt-front. But thistie--though it marks a pleasant and becoming individuality ofdress--loses half its effect by nearly always getting out of its place;when night is advanced, the knot is always about half across Mr. Gladstone's neck. On the other hand, he is nearly always very carefullydressed; his black frock-coat--a little ancient in make, and always ofthe smooth black, which has given way with younger men to thediagonals--is a well-known feature of every great debate, and adds graceto his appearance and delivery. When summer comes, however, he burstsinto an almost dazzling glory of white waistcoats, grey cashmere coats, and hats of creamy-yellow whiteness, ethereal and almost aggressivelysummery. The younger men are not slow to follow so excellent anexample--though generally there is the tendency to the dark grey, whichis a compromise between the black of winter and the fiery white tweedwhich the man in the street is wont to wear. Sir Charles Russell--who, returning from Paris on the same day as Mr. Sexton, received a very warmwelcome--is also a child of his age in his clothes. Time was when agreat legal luminary--especially if he were on the bench--was supposedto be violating every canon of good taste if he did not wear garmentswhich might be described as a cross between the garb of a bishop, anundertaker, and a hangman. The judge on the bench, in fact, was alwayssupposed to be putting on the black cap figuratively, and, therefore, was obliged to bear with him the outward sign of his damnable trade. Thelate Lord Cairns was the first to break through this tradition, andaffect the style of the prosperous stockbroker. Sir Charles Russell isdifferent, for he dresses in thorough taste; but when one saw him in theHouse of Commons in a grey suit and a deep-cut waistcoat, one might havetaken him for a gentleman squire with a taste for study, varied by anoccasional visit to Newmarket. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Morley's tweed suit. ]

All these observations have been suggested by the portentous fact thaton June 15th Mr. John Morley startled the world of Parliament byappearing in a very neat, a very well cut, and a very light tweed suit. If Mr. Morley figures in many Tory imaginations as a modern St. Just, longing for the music of the guillotine and the daily splash of Tory andorthodox blood, it is much more due to his clothes than to his writings;for ordinarily he is dressed after the fashion which one can wellsuppose reigned in the days when the men of the Terror were inauguratinga reign of universal love, brotherhood, and peace through the narrowopening between the upper and the lower knife of the guillotine. Hiscoat is blue: so is his waistcoat; and his nether garments are of asevere drab brown. It is impossible to imagine that any man who assumessuch garments could be otherwise than a severe and sanguinarydoctrinaire, anxious for his neighbours' blood. The genial smile withwhich the House of Commons has become familiar has invalidated the Toryestimate of Mr. Morley, but it was that memorable Thursday thatcompleted the transformation of judgment. No man could be a lover of theguillotine who could wear so airy, so gay, and, above all, so juvenileand well-cut a suit of clothes. Mr. Morley himself was overwhelmed withthe amount of attention which his new suit attracted. He, poor man, didnot see the portentous political significance of the transaction, andalmost sank under the multitude and variety of congratulations which hereceived from watchful friends. He has done many great and successfulthings in the course of his brilliant career--but he never achieved atriumph so complete and so prompt as he did when he put on his lighttweed suit, and steered under its illuminating rays the Home Rule Billthrough the rocks and shoals, the eddies and the cross-currents of theHouse of Commons. 

[Sidenote: A brilliant pas de deux. ]

On the following afternoon there was another scene in which clothes hadtheir share. At about three o'clock there entered the House together twoslight, alert figures--in both cases a little above the middle height, and both clothed in a suit of clothes the exact counterpart of eachother in make, shape, and colour. There was a dominant and almostmonotonous grey in their appearance; but there was little of grey intheir looks. When at once there burst from the Tory and UnionistsBenches a loud, wild, prolonged huzzah, it was seen that this theatricallittle entrance at one and the same time of Joe and Mr. Balfour, wastheir method of accentuating the Tory triumph in Linlithgow. The twogentlemen seen entering together separated as they walked up thefloor--the Tory going to his place on the front Opposition Bench, theUnionist to his corner seat on the Liberal side. It was a very skilfullyarranged bit of business, though there were critics who thought itshistrionic element a little out of place in the sombre and solemnrealities of public life, and a great national controversy. In the midstof it all I looked at Mr. Gladstone. It is in such moments that you areable to get a glimpse into all the great depths of this extraordinarynature. And I have written more than once in these columns that thegreatest of all his characteristics is composure. This mighty, restless, fiery fighter against wrong--this stalwart and unconquerable wrestlerfor right, this Titan--I might even say this Don Quixote--who has goneout with spear and sword to assault the most strongly-entrenchedcitadels of human wrongs--who has faced a world in arms--this man has, after all, at the centre of his existence, and in the depths of hisnature, a gospel which sustains him in the hours of defeat and gloom, and makes him one of the most restless of combatants, and the mosttranquil. 

[Sidenote: The grand old philosopher. ]

Devotional, almost pietistic, introspective, accustomed, I have nodoubt, from that early training of domestic piety and sacerdotalsurroundings, to see all this gay, vast phantasmagoria of life theantechamber to a greater, more enduring, and better world beyond thosevoices, Mr. Gladstone--at least that is my reading of hischaracter--looks at everything in human existence with the power ofself-detachment from its garish moments and its transient interests. Behind this constant warfare, underneath all this public passion andsweeping resolves, there is a nether and unseen world of thought, emotion, hope, and in that world there is ever calm. It is a tabernaclein his soul where only holy thoughts may enter. Outside its impenetrableand echoless walls are left behind the shouts of faction, the noise ofbattle, the rise and fall of the good and ever-enduring fight betweenwrong and right. Within that tabernacle Mr. Gladstone has the power ofwithdrawing himself at will, just as in the Agora of Athens, and on thelast great day when he discoursed on immortality, and drank the mortalhemlock, Socrates could withdraw himself, and listen to the innerwhisper of his dæmon. All this, I say, you could see in the abstracted, resigned and composed look of Mr. Gladstone at the moment when histriumphant enemies, in their summer garb, with their smiling faces, andstrutting walk, entered the House of Commons. If you wanted to see atonce the contrast, not only of the temper of the hour, but the stillgreater and more momentous contrast of temperaments, you had only tolook from the face of Mr. Gladstone to that of Mr. Chamberlain. Thecontrast of their years--the deeper contrast of their natures--aboveall, the profounder contrast of their worlds of thought, training andenvironment--all were brought out. In that perky, retroussé-nosed, self-complacent, confidently smiling man you saw all theflippancy--so-called realism--the petty commercialism of the end of themiddle of the nineteenth century. The mysticism, the poetry, the richdevotion, the lofty and large ideals of the beginning of the century--ofthe time that remembered Byron and produced Newman--all these thingswere to be seen in the rapt look of that noble, beautiful and refinedface on the Treasury Bench. And yet there was something more. Thebrilliant light of the early days of our century has become dim and coldin those hearts and minds which have not had the power to grow andexpand with their ages. But with that splendid sanity of body as well asmind which belongs to him, Mr. Gladstone is the creature of the endingof the nineteenth as of the beginning of the twentieth century. Like theman of Arctic climes, he stands almost at the same moment in the sunsetof one great century and the heralding light of the sunrise of another. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE BURSTING OF THE STORM. 

[Sidenote: An Indian summer. ]

There is a striking description in one of Mr. Rudyard Kipling's storiesof a night in an Indian city when the dog star rages. Luridly, butvigorously, the author brings home to you the odious discomfort, theawful suffering, and, finally, the morose anger and almost homicidalfury, which the sweltering light produces in the waking soldiers. Thiswould have been something like the temper of the House of Commons onJune 18th, if that assembly had not recently discovered methods ofsaving its temper and pleasantly spending its vacant hours. For the dogstar--raging, merciless, sweltering--ruled everywhere within WestminsterPalace. On the floor of the House itself, men sweltered and mopped theirforeheads; in even the recesses of the still library they groaned aloud;then down on the Terrace, and with the river sweeping by, there was nota particle of air; and the heat of all the day had made even the stonyfloor of that beautiful walk almost like the tiles of a red-hot oven. Inshort, it was a day when one felt one's own poor tenement of clay amisery, a nuisance, and a burden; and the mind, morose, black, anddespondent, had distracting visions of distant mirages by the seashoreor under green trees. It was natural, under such circumstances, thateverybody who could should desert the House of Commons. And this suddendesertion of the House will be always remembered as one of the manypeculiarities of the Annus Mirabilis through which we are passing. Ithas not been unusual for some years for members to take a turn on theTerrace now and then. I have paced its floor at every hour of the nightand the day--from the still midnight to the delightful moments beforebreaking day; and I still remember the beautiful summery morning when, after a hard night's fight, an Irish member rushed down to the Terraceto tell Mr. Sexton and myself that we were just being suspended--anoperation not yet grown customary. But this Session the majority of theHouse of Commons is always on the Terrace; and woman--that sleuth-houndof every new pleasure--has discovered this great fact, and utilised itaccordingly. 

[Sidenote: Tea on the Terrace. ]

The afternoon tea--the strawberries and cream which make a coolness anddelight in the midst of the raging day--has been erected by woman intoone of London's daily social events; and though the novelist has notdiscovered the fact up to this moment--Mr. McCarthy has made a verypretty love scene on the Terrace, but it is at the witching hour ofnight--though this discovery has yet to come, the respite is brief, andin a short time we shall have the hero and the heroine passing throughall the agonies of three-volume suffering, to the accompaniment of thedivision bell and the small tea-table of the Terrace. But though womanhas many slaves she has her watchful enemies. The great order ofcurmudgeon is wide and vigilant and crusty, and the curmudgeon has foundthat the vast crowds of ladies who have invaded the Terrace have at lastbegun to interfere with that daily constitutional along its stretchinglength, which is the only exercise most members of Parliament are ableto take in these fierce days. Accordingly, there appeared an ominousnotice-board with the words, "For members only, " at a particular pointin the Terrace. Within the space, before which this notice stood as afiery sword, woman was not allowed to intrude; and from out its sacredenclosure--guarded by nothing but the line of the notice and theSpeaker's wrath--the confirmed bachelor, the married cynic, smoked hiscigarette, and looked lazily through at the chattering, tea-drinking, bright-coloured crowd immediately beyond. 

[Sidenote: Demos and dinner. ]

I regret to say that the great Demos had an opportunity of seeing thelegislator at work and play, and that the remarks of that extremelyirreverent person were not complimentary. Reading, doubtless, in thepapers something of the fatiguing labours--of the stern attention tobusiness--of the long and dreary hours which the patriots of the Houseof Commons were devoting to the work of the country, Demos was shockedand scandalised to behold this giddy, fashionable, and modish crowd. Demos, sweltering on the passing steamboat--able to see, and, at thesame time, free from interference on his watery kingdom--jeered aloud ashe passed close to the Terrace, and mocked with loud laughter thatbetokened not only the vacant but the insulting mind. The skippers ofthe steamboats--hardened Cockneys with an eye to business--knew what adelight this baiting of the august assembly would be to the mostdemocratic and most sarcastic crowd in Europe; and accordingly it becamethe "mot d'ordre" with the steamboat skipper, when the tide was full, tobring his vessel almost to the very walls of the Terrace, and thus togive the tripper the opportunity of gazing from very near at the lionsat food and play. If Demos could have come and seen as plainly at nightin those days as during the afternoon, his shocked feelings would havebeen even more poignant and his language more irreverent. Tea is, afterall, a simple drink that makes the whole world akin; and evenstrawberries in this great year were within reach of the most modestpurse. But at night, entertainment is more costly. Along the Terracethere is now, as everybody knows, a series of small dining-rooms; andhere every night you might have listened to the pleasant music ofwoman's laughter, punctuated by the pop of the champagne bottle. Timewas--I remember it well--when a member of Parliament who knew thatthere was any place where a lady could get something to eat was pointedto as a Parliamentary marvel, who knew his way about in an uncannyfashion; when the room in which a lady could dine had been seen by butfew eyes and, indeed, was little better than a coalhole, low-roofed, dimly lit, buried in dark and deep recesses of an underworld of theHouse of Commons, as little known to the general member as the sewagecatacombs of London to the ordinary citizen. But all this has beenchanged; and now the dinner to ladies at the House of Commons hasbecome, like the afternoon tea, one of the best recognized of London'ssocial festivities. And so great is the run on these dinners that ittakes a week's--or even two weeks'--notice to secure a table. Mr. Cobbe--a stern and unbending Radical, with a hot temper and unsparingtongue--might have been seen one of those June days with a menacingfrown upon his rugged Radical forehead, and by-and-bye in seriousconverse with the Speaker. And the cause of his anger was that he hadfound all the dining-tables ordered for two weeks ahead. 

[Sidenote: A wild scene. ]

Speaking on the Freemasons, on June 22nd, Mr. Gladstone related theinteresting autobiographical fact that he himself was not a Freemason, and never had been; and, indeed, having been fully occupiedotherwise--this delicate allusion to that vast life of never-endingwork--of gigantic enterprises--of solemn and sublime responsibilities, was much relished--he never had had sufficient curiosity to make anyparticular inquiries as to what Freemasonry really was. I don't knowwhat came over Mr. Balfour--some people thought it was because heexpected to detach some Freemason votes from the Liberal side; but hewas guilty of what I admit is an unusual thing with him--an intentional, a gross, an almost shameful misrepresentation of Mr. Gladstone's words. Making the same interesting personal statement as Mr. Gladstone, that hewas not himself a Freemason, he went on to suggest that Mr. Gladstonehad made a comparison between a fraudulent Liberator Society and theFreemasons. At this thrust there was a terrible hubbub in the House, andthat fanaticism with which the Mason holds to his institution wasaroused; indeed, for a little while, the scene was Bedlam-like in itspassion and anarchy. In the midst of it all, facing the violent howls ofthe excited Tories, pale, disturbed, hotly angry underneath all thecomposure of language and tone, Mr. Gladstone exposed the shameful andentirely groundless misrepresentation. Mr. Balfour's better angelintervened; he got ashamed of himself, and at once apologized. But thehurricane of passion which had been let loose was not to be so easilyappeased; and when, presently, Mr. John Morley put an end to theridiculous and irrelevant discussion which threatened to land the Houseof Commons into the consideration of the arcana of a Freemason's Lodge, there burst from the Tory benches one of the fiercest little storms ofremonstrance I have ever heard. When the closure is proposed, there isbut one way of expressing emotion. Under the rules of the House, themotion must be put without debate. So when the word of doom ispronounced by the Minister, all that remains is for the Speaker orChairman to refuse or accept the motion; and if he accept the motion, hesimply rises, and, uttering the fateful words, "The question is that themotion be now put, " guillotines all further speech. But then he has toput the question, and in the answering words of "Aye" or "No, " there canbe put an immense fund of passion. So it was that night. The answering"Noes" reached the proportions of a cyclone; you could see men shriekingout the word again and again, almost beside themselves with rage, andwith faces positively distorted by the intensity of their feelings. Andthe tempest did not end in a moment; again and again the Tories shoutedtheir hoarse and tempestuous, and angry "No, no!"--the word sometimesrepeated like a volley: "No, no-o-o, no-o-o-o-o!"--this was the noisethat rose on the Parliamentary air, and that gave vent to all thepassion which had been excited. And then came the division and arestoration of calm. 

[Sidenote: Charwomen and ratcatchers. ]

The Whip is a cunning dog, especially if he be the Whip of the party inpower; and you have to be a long time in Parliament before you know allhis wiles, and fully appreciate their meaning. For instance, fewinnocent outsiders would understand why it is that the Whip always putsdown Estimates for a day immediately after the end of a vacation. Thereasons are two. First, because Estimates give more time and opportunityfor the mere bore and obstructive than any other part of Parliamentarybusiness. On the Estimates, as I have often explained, every singlepenny spent in the public service has to be entered. Whether that sum belarge or small makes no difference. For instance, there is a charwomanat the Foreign Office; the charwoman's salary appears in the accountsjust as bold and just as plain as the five thousand a year which thecountry has to pay for Lord Rosebery--who is cheap at the money, I mustsay, lest I be misunderstood. There is associated with Buckingham Palacea most worthy and useful individual called the ratcatcher. Everybody cansee why in such a vast and generally untenanted barrack, there should bea ratcatcher. Well, Master Ratcatcher appears on the Estimates forBuckingham Palace just as regularly, as plainly, in as much detail, asmy Lord High Chamberlain, Lord Carrington. There is no reason whateverwhy a whole evening should not be spent in the discussion of theratcatcher's salary. Perhaps the reader may have heard that, in commonwith many sobered and middle-aged gentlemen, I have had a pre-historicperiod when I was accused--of course, unjustly--of interfering with theprogress of public business. In that period, I remember very well, theratcatcher of Buckingham Palace loomed largely, as well as many otherstrange and portentous figures now vanished into the void and theimmensities. I don't know whether we were able to keep the Ministrygoing for a whole night on the subject or not; but still we managed toget some excellent change out of the business. 

[Sidenote: The wistful Whip. ]

This brief explanation will make the reader understand what it is youcan do on the Estimates, and therefore bring home to your mind the wileof the Ministerial Whip. For his second reason for putting down theEstimates until after vacation is, that he knows there will be a verysmall attendance of members, and that thus he will be able to sneakthrough his Estimates more quickly than usual. When, therefore, you hearof a vacation in the House of Commons, you will always find that themembers ask with peculiar anxiety what is to be the first business onthe day on which the vacation concludes; and you will hear the audiblesigh of relief which will rise from hundreds of oppressed bosoms whenthe Leader of the House for the time being announces that it will beEstimates. Members then know that they need be in no violent hurry toget back, and that things will go right, even though they should tarrythat additional day, or even two days, longer by the sad sea waves oramid the tall grass. 

[Sidenote: To thy orisons. ]

It is one of the peculiarities of the House of Commons that the men whoare most in want of spiritual assistance and providential guidance, never seek the assistance of prayer. However terrible the crisis, however crowded every other inch of space in the House of Commons maybe, though the ungodliest member may be in his place listening to therich resonance of Archdeacon Farrar's voice, the Treasury Bench isalways empty. To an outsider the explanation may be here revealed; whichis, that if you attend prayers you are entitled to a seat for theremainder of the evening, whereas if you are absent, you are liable atany moment to be turned out by your more pious brother. But Ministersare exempt from this general law, for their places are fixed for them onthe Treasury Bench, whatever may happen, and, accordingly, theyinvariably--I had almost said religiously--keep away from prayers. LestI should appear to do injustice, I may say that the leaders of theOpposition are just as ungodly, and for precisely the same reason; theirseats also are secured to them by standing order; and, accordingly, theyalso never enter the House until its devotions for the day are over. There was just one exception to this. For some reason best known tohimself, Sir John Gorst (he is usually at variance with his friends) hadcome down early on June 28th, and was in his place with edifying aspectto listen to the solemn exhortation and the soft responses. 

[Sidenote: The shout of battle. ]

At twenty minutes past twelve there is a roar in the House; the Old Manhas arrived; and there ascends that bracing cheer with which in ourstill barbarous times we welcome our champions on the eve of a bigfight. The Old Man has hurried, for he is out of breath; and the deadlypallor of his cheek is almost affrighting to see. But he soon recovershimself, though when he rises to speak the breathlessness is still veryapparent, and he has to gasp almost now and then for more voice. Fortunately on this occasion we have not long to wait for the bigannouncement which everybody is so anxiously expecting. It is usuallythe fate of the House of Commons, whenever something very momentous isunder weigh, to have a thousand trivialities in its path before it getson to the real business. I have heard something like a hundred questionsasked, most of them very trivial, on more than one night, when the wholeof the civilized world was waiting for the Minister to develop somegreat plan of Governmental policy. The bore, the faddist, the emptyself-advertiser, is as inevitable on such occasions as the reportorialdog that always rushes along the Derby course at that dread moment whenyou can hear the beating of the gamblers' hearts. 

[Sidenote: To business. ]

But on this fateful Wednesday there is no such ridiculous intervention. There are only two questions altogether on the paper; and both of thoserefer to the great issue of how obstruction is to be put down. Mr. Gladstone answers the questions very briefly; but there is hidden andfateful meaning in every syllable he utters; and the House of Commons, looking on, shows itself in one of those moments which bring out all itspicturesqueness--its latent passions--its very human characteristics. There is the eager strain of curiosity. Every face is turned to that ofthe single pale white solitary figure that stands out from the TreasuryBench, dressed, I may add, in the sober but light grey suit of thesummer season, in spite of his being a messenger of such doom to Toryobstruction. There is a hush, but a hush never lasts long in the Houseof Commons when a great party blow is going to be struck. The nerves ofthe House, raised to expectancy--tension, almost hysteria, by the joy ofthe one side, the anger and dread of the other, have a preternaturalreadiness in catching points, in producing outbursts of feeling. And soit is to-day. The Prime Minister has scarcely uttered the words whichreveal the determination of the Government to resort to the most extrememeasures, when there burst simultaneously from the Irish and the ToryBenches cheers and counter cheers--the cheer of pride, joy, and deliriumalmost, in the one case; the answering cheer and counter cheer ofhaughty and angered defiance in the other. 

[Sidenote: Balfour the unready. ]

The Old Man bears himself splendidly amidst all this. He is very excitedand very resolute--you can see that by the very deadliness oftranquillity which he seeks to put in his voice, by the gentleness ofhis tone, by the almost deprecatory smile. All the same, the prevalentnote of his voice and manner is composure. For the moment, either fromsurprise, relief, the joy they can badly conceal--whatever the reason, the Tories seem to be nonplussed. The audacious ally who is always readyto rush rashly into the breach on such occasions is away in Birmingham;and with all his excellent qualities, Mr. Balfour is not remarkable forreadiness. Accordingly there is an awkward pause, and no one rises fromthe Opposition Benches. This is serious, for first blood tells inParliamentary as in other prize fights. The Old Man, however, is allalive. He passes on from this mighty announcement as though he had saidnothing in particular, and taking a bundle of notes--put together withcharacteristic care and neatness even in the very centre of all thisstorm--he proceeds to tell Mr. Goschen something about the currencyquestion, and the state of the silver market in India. The currency--whocares about the currency now? Even the hardiest bimetallist cannot begot to think of his hobby in the face of the dread news just heard. Bythe time Mr. Gladstone has given his answers, Mr. Balfour has managed toslightly recover himself, and has framed a question to the Old Man. 

[Sidenote: The precedent of 1887. ]

When at last the question does come, it is of a very innocent character. The Old Man has declared that he had not the terms of the resolutionready, but that they would be announced to the House before its risingin the evening. All Mr. Balfour wishes to know is, what time it will bewhen these terms are given. Such is the simple question; but the replyis of a very different character. It was delivered in studiouslymoderate terms; the voice of Mr. Gladstone never rises above a sweetcoo; but there is fire, defiance, inflexible determination in everysyllable, and the first blow is struck when the wily Old Manannounces--as though it were the merest business affair--that theclosure resolution which the Government will introduce, is founded uponthe principle of the resolution of 1887. He can go no further forseveral seconds. The Irish, with their ready wits--their fierce and keenmemories--have caught the point at once; and they burst into acheer--loud, fierce, and prolonged. What it means is this: In 1887, theTories had carried a closure resolution for the purpose of forcingthrough the Coercion Bill of that year; and it was under the working ofthat closure resolution that the Bill had finally passed the House ofCommons, with several of its clauses undebated. What, then, this fierceIrish cheer meant was that the chickens were coming home to roost; andthat the Tories were now reaping the harvest of their own sowing. Withgrave face the Old Man waited until the storm had spent itself, and thenhe went on to make a little slip, which for the moment gave his enemiesan excellent opening. 

[Sidenote: Revolution or resolution. ]

He spoke not of the resolution, but of the revolution. He corrected theslip with great rapidity, but he was not quick enough for his watchfulenemies, and loudly--discordantly--triumphantly--they repeated the wordafter him--Revolution--Revolution. However, Mr. Gladstone, after hisSocratic fashion, lowered his eyes for a moment and went off into one ofthose abstract reveries whither he always allows his fancy to wend itsway whenever his opponents are particularly rancorous. Then he describedthe resolution--not the revolution--as in the interest of theconvenience and liberty of the House. But he immediately added--with thesweetest smile--that Mr. Balfour would doubtless form his own judgmenton that point; and then, still calm, sweet, with the tendency to thereverie of the good man grossly misjudged by sinful opponents, he sathim down. 

[Sidenote: An awkward moment. ]

In the midst of the exultation which the announcement of the Governmenthad produced in the Liberal ranks, there came a difficulty and ahumiliation. An amendment had been proposed, Mr. Gladstone had twiceopposed it, everything pointed to its ignominious rejection, and, inview of the coming closure, everybody seemed to want rapid despatch. Andthus a division was immediately called. The House was cleared; membersrushed in, and, indeed, had already begun to pass through the lobby;when suddenly there was a complete change of tactics; Mr. Marjoribanks, rushing to the Treasury Bench, called upon the Government to capitulate. The fact got out; the Government were in a minority--their forces hadnot come in time, and the Tories would have beaten us if they had beenallowed to go to a division. It was one of the narrowest shaves--one ofthe most uncomfortable quarters of a minute--we have had in the House ofCommons for many a long day. 

[Sidenote: The fateful moment. ]

But half-past five comes at last; then the discussion on the Home RuleBill has to come to an end, and the Speaker takes the chair. Membersthink there is a look of unusual excitement on his face, that its air isangry; and the Unionists take comfort from the idea that this step isagainst his judgment. But, then, it is a matter for the House itself andnot for the decision of the chair, and so we go ahead. Mr. Morley is putup by Mr. Gladstone to read the words of the resolution. The Old Manhimself is composedly writing that letter to the Queen which it is stillhis duty daily to indite. Mr. Morley's face betrays under all itsstudied calm, the excitement of the hour, and he reads every separateannouncement with a certain dramatic emphasis that brings out all thehidden meaning; and the document is one, the reading of which lendsitself to dramatic effect and to dramatic manifestations. For eachclause winds up with the same words, at "ten of the clock, " until thesewords come to sound something like the burden of a song--the refrain ofa lament--the iteration of an Athanasian curse against sinners andheretics. The House sees all this; and each side manifests emotionaccording to its fashion. The Irish cheer themselves hoarse in triumph;the Tories answer back as defiantly and loudly; and so we enter, withclang of battle, with shouts and cheers, and hoarse cries of joy or ofrage, into the second great pitched battle on Home Rule. 

CHAPTER XV. 

MR. DILLON'S FORGETFULNESS. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Dillon. ]

Everybody who has ever met Mr. Dillon knows that he has a singularlyeven and equable temper, except at the moments when he has been stung topassion by the sight of some bitter and intolerable wrong. When, therefore, Mr. Chamberlain made him the subject of a fierce attack onaccount of a past utterance, he was dealing with a man who was as littleinfluenced by such attacks as anybody could well be. For days Mr. Chamberlain had been trying to bait Mr. Dillon into speech; and for daysMr. Dillon had positively refused to be drawn. At last it seemed to somefriends of Mr. Dillon that if he did not speak his attitude might bemisunderstood, and that he would be supposed to entertain, as part of asettled policy, what he had really uttered on the spur of the moment andunder the influence of intolerable wrong and provocation. But when inthe last days of June Mr. Chamberlain made his attack, and Mr. Dillonhad listened to it and asked for dates, Mr. Dillon thought that thematter would not be worth further attending to, and relapsed into hisold attitude of easy contempt. 

[Sidenote: The outbreak. ]

This will account for what would otherwise be inexplicable; namely, that, having had a week to prepare his defence, Mr. Dillon should onJuly 3rd have fallen into a dreadful, and, for the moment, disastrousblunder. The truth was, Mr. Dillon had never thought of the subject formore than a few moments between the date of the challenge and Mr. Chamberlain's renewal of the attack, and, if he had been left free toexercise his own judgment, would have allowed the whole thing to lapseinto the nothingness into which every such charge finally falls. On thisMonday night Mr. Chamberlain was in his most venomous mood. He had comedown to the House with the set determination to get up a row somehow orother. There was evil in his eye; there was rancour in his voice; therewas the hoarse rage which always shows in him whenever he feels that hehas been beaten. His judgment is so shallow--his temper so rash andviolent--that some people think he actually counted that the Governmentwould never have dared to interfere with his obstructive plan ofcampaign, and that he would have been permitted to bury the Bill underthe vast hedge of amendments. To him, then, the strong and drasticaction of the preceding week had come as a painful and most exasperatingsurprise. 

[Sidenote: Joe's weakness. ]

It is one of the many bad turns that Joe's temper does him to alwayslead him into overdoing his part. The wild outbursts of his venom--theferocity which he puts into his personal attacks--these things have theeffect of producing a certain amount of reaction; and thus his blowsoften suffer from the very violence with which they are dealt. A realmaster of Parliamentary craft, like Mr. Gladstone or Mr. Sexton, haslearned the lesson--the lesson which all orators of all ages havelearned--that there is nothing so deadly as moderation; that he destroysthe effectiveness of a passion by tearing it to pieces, and that you arereally effective when you have complete control of your temper, yourvoice and your language. 

[Sidenote: Mitchelstown. ]

Mr. Dillon, rising--pale, high-strung, and nervous--was a sympatheticsight, and the House was ready to listen to him with the greatestattention. The Old Man was specially interested. Whenever nowadays, whenhis hearing has become somewhat defective, he wants particularly tohear a speech, he has to change his place; usually, as everybody knows, he sits exactly opposite the box on the Speaker's table. This evening hewent to the last seat on the Treasury Bench--the seat nearest to thespot from which Mr. Dillon was about to speak, and with his hand to hisear he prepared himself to catch every word that Mr. Dillon was about toutter, and the speech of Mr. Dillon was--in spite of the halting toneswhich excitement, unpreparedness, the sense of his responsibilityproduced--singularly effective. The passionate and transparent sincerityof the man--the sense of all the years of suffering through which hepassed--the recollection of all the risks he has run in the greatcontemporary Irish Revolution--all these things spoke in his favour. Especially was he effective when he described the circumstances underwhich he had delivered the speech, a passage from which had beenincriminated by Mr. Chamberlain. He had been told just half-an-hourbefore he rose to speak, of how a poor mother had been torn from herbabe; how the two had been taken over a long journey together, and hadboth been finally lodged in the same cell. And he asked with apassionate thrill in his voice, that carried away the House with him, whether anybody else under the same circumstances would not haveprotested in language of violence and vehemence against the cruelty andofficial brutality which allowed such things to be. Would not anybodyhave protested that the officials who were guilty of these things hadnot to look to reward or promotion from a popular Irish Government. 

[Sidenote: The fatal mistake. ]

So far, Mr. Dillon had the House completely with him. He also scored fora second or two. He went on to remark that he had been under theinfluence of the massacre at Mitchelstown; but scarcely had these wordsproceeded from his lips than a look of dismay passed over the faces ofhis Irish colleagues. Close beside him were several men who, likehimself, had stood on the platform of the historic square when thepolice descended upon the meeting, and which ended in the death ofthree innocent men. They at once perceived that Mr. Dillon, by somebreak of memory, had made a mistake in his dates. The incriminatingspeech had been delivered in December, 1886, and the Mitchelstownmassacre took place in September, 1887. If the Irish members had notperceived this blunder immediately they would soon have been brought toa sense of coming disaster by the movements on the opposite side. 

[Sidenote: Chamberlain on the spring. ]

Mr. T. W. Russell is always at the service of Mr. Chamberlain at such amoment. A platform speaker by training and by years of professionalwork, accustomed to make most of his case against Home Rule depend onthe characters, the words, the acts of the Irish members, he has, ofcourse, at his fingers' ends, all the useful extracts of the lastthirteen years. At once he was seen to rush excitedly from the House. Every Irishman knew at once that he was going to the library toreinforce his memory with regard to the date of Mitchelstown. A murmurarose on the Irish Benches; slips of paper were passed up to Mr. Dillonto recall to him the facts of the case; but, either in the hurry andexcitement, or because he did not appreciate the situation immediately, Mr. Dillon went on with his speech--unconscious of the abyss that openedup before him. Meantime, Mr. Chamberlain--pale, excited, his face tornwith the workings of gratified hatred and coming triumph--sat forward inhis seat, his eyeglass shining from afar, eagerness in every look, pose, movement. 

[Sidenote: Chamberlain pounces. ]

At last Mr. Russell was back in his place; it did not require muchsecond sight to see that his quest had been successful, and that he hadbrought to Mr. Chamberlain the ammunition he required in order to slayJohn Dillon. The moment Mr. Dillon sat down, Mr. Chamberlain was on hisfeet. He worked up to the situation with some skill; but, after all, with that overdone passion which, as I have already said, spoils some ofhis greatest effects--he did not expose the mistake in his first fewsentences. He worked up the agony, so to speak. First he recalled to theLiberals--whose hatred to him he feels and returns with interest--thefact that they had cheered Mr. Dillon's allusion to the effectMitchelstown had had on him in provoking the violence of his speech. Andthen when he had created his situation, he pounced down on the Housewith the climax--the speech had been delivered in 1886, the Mitchelstowntragedy had taken place in the following year. It would be idle to denythat Mr. Chamberlain had then one of the most triumphant moments of hislife. It was a small point, after all, and, as everybody soon knew, itwas all the result of a natural and a perfectly honest mistake. But theHouse of Commons is not particular in weighing things in judicial scalesat moments of intense political passion. There rose from the Tory andthe Unionist Benches one of the longest, fiercest, most triumphantshouts that was ever heard in the House of Commons. But then, as I againmust say, and as will soon be seen, the passion was overdone, and aswift retribution came by-and-bye. For the moment, however, it wasgiddily, dazzlingly triumphant, and Joe had one of the few moments ofhis life which were unrelieved by disaster. 

[Sidenote: A diversion. ]

It was at this moment--and, curiously enough, his victory was very soondashed to the ground--that Mr. Harrington, one of the Parnellites, struck in with a blow. In Parliamentary, as in other tactics, one of thewisest expedients--especially if things are going rather wrong withyourself--is to carry the war into the enemies' country. And this isexactly what Mr. Harrington did. He turned upon Joe and denounced himfor seeking at one time to obtain the alliance of these very Irishmembers whom now he was denouncing. He accused him of sendingambassadors to them when they were in prison, and, in short, brought Joeface to face with an almost forgotten period of his history. Then he wasalmost a Home Ruler in profession, and looked to the Irish members as aportion of the force he would by-and-bye marshal in his own army. 

[Sidenote: A quid pro quo. ]

Joe grew pale. It is a curious fact that, whenever any allusion is madeto this special period of his life, Mr. Chamberlain becomes particularlydisturbed; possibly, it is that he is conscious of the rash things hehas said at this period; possibly, it is that it can be proved to theworld that he was at this period in favour of the principles and the menhe now so loudly denounces. Whatever the reason, it is perfectlycertain, if you want to put Mr. Chamberlain into a rage, and whatsailors call a funk, allude to the period of Parnell's imprisonment inKilmainham, and Mr. Duignan's letter on the Irish question. Thetransformation from the exalted look a few moments before to the pale, cowed aspect which Mr. Chamberlain wore was one of the most suddentransformations I have ever seen in the House of Commons. He couldscarcely sit in his seat while Mr. Harrington was speaking; again andagain he rose to interrupt him altogether, and gave signs of unusualexcitement and disturbance. But Mr. Harrington is a deft and tenaciouscombatant. In spite of all attempts to stop him, in spite of thetremendous uproar raised by the Unionists and Tories, he managed to getout what he had to say. He brought Mr. Chamberlain face to face withthis spectre of his dead past. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Balfour does not score. ]

Meantime, Mr. Balfour made a great mistake. He had listened to thespeech of Mr. Chamberlain, and had been one of those who had joined inthe cheers at the exposure of Mr. Dillon's accidental mistake. There heshould have left it, but, carried away by the hope of driving the pointhome against a political enemy, he needs must add something to what Mr. Chamberlain had said. Now Mr. Balfour is in many points very superior toJoe. He should leave personal vituperation to him: he is more active, defter, and more willing to do such dirty work. Moreover, it is in therecollection of the members that, in the Coercionist struggle, Mr. Balfour seemed to have towards Mr. Dillon an unusual amount of personalanimosity. Speaking with want of grace and personal courtesy, which arethings, I am bound to say, uncommon with him, he accused Mr. Dillon ofdeliberate and conscious hypocrisy. This also was a tactical blunder, and will largely account for the transformation following, to which I amgoing to refer. 

[Sidenote: The transformation. ]

The House on the following day, July 4th, was very still when Mr. Dillonrose--evidently to refer to the incident of the previous night. Hisaddress was quiet, brief, and graceful. With charming modesty, heacknowledged the mistake he had made, and explained how, in running overin memory the hundreds of speeches he had delivered, he had confoundedone speech with another. He was unable to understand how his memory, which never before had played him false, had done him this ill turn, andhe appealed to the House generally, and declared that there was not evenamongst his bitter political foes one who would think him capable oftrying to palm off on the House a speech which could be so palpably andso readily exposed. In these few sentences, Mr. Dillon brought beforethe House his strange, picturesque, and chequered career. His oratorywas such that the explanation was considered the best ever given in theHouse of Commons. 

[Sidenote: Joe is absent. ]

This was a recovery of some ground lost on the previous night. But therewas even better to come. Mr. Harrington's accuracy and veracity as toMr. Chamberlain's dealings with the Irish members had been challenged, as I have said, by Mr. Chamberlain, and he now rose to read the historicletter of Mr. Duignan, which, he claimed, justified his account. Severalattempts were made to stop Mr. Harrington, and the Tories during thiswere decidedly annoyed and embarrassed because Mr. Chamberlain happenednot to be in his place. But doggedly and persistently Mr. Harringtonheld to his ground, and at last the Speaker allowed him to read theletter. The reading of the letter led to various scenes, because it wasone of those balanced utterances in which Mr. Chamberlain used to try tohold one foot in the Unionist and to place the other in the Home Rulecamp. There were speeches about the County Councils, and there had beenUnionist and Tory cheers in relief; but when immediately afterwardsthere were allusions to Home Rule, very little different in scope orcharacter from that proposed by Mr. Gladstone, there was a triumphantrejoinder from the Liberal and Home Rule Benches. Austen Chamberlain, excited, nervous, angered, flitted to and fro in the attempt to gatherforces to defend his absent parent. At last Mr. Courtney took up hiscase. There was not very much in what he said, and while he was speakingMr. Chamberlain entered the House. He was pale, excited, and unnerved. He endeavoured to carry the whole thing by a jauntiness which was tooeasy to see through. Mr. Courtney had been waving furiously a telegramtowards the Speaker, and asked that he might have the privilege ofreading it. Austen Chamberlain snatched the telegram from Mr. Courtney, and gave it to his father just as he had taken his seat. Mr. Chamberlainhad not a moment to spare; he had just time to glance at the contents ofthe telegram when he rose to speak, and all he did was to read thetelegram, which was a confirmation by Mr. Duignan of the generalaccuracy of the previous evening. This was a score for Joe, and hisfriends were delighted to recover something of their lost spirit. 

[Mr. Conybeare and the Speaker. ]

Mr. Conybeare had written a letter to the _Chronicle_ denouncing theSpeaker. Mr. Tritton, a Tory member, insisted the letter should be read, and this gave the Speaker one of those few opportunities which hisposition allows him. In disclaiming this charge he showed his greatpowers of oratory and the splendid and thrilling notes of his finevoice. He defended himself at once from the charge of undue partialitywith strong passion and deep emotion, which lie hidden beneath his deepreserve. With a face ghastly almost in its greyness, in its deepeningglows and manifest passion, he repudiated the charge of unfairness; hevehemently struck his hand on the order paper which he held, and as heneared to the end of his little speech there was a ring in his voicedangerously near a sob or a tear. It is on such occasions that Mr. Gladstone's sonorous and splendid diction and delivery come most to thefront; beginning a little awkwardly, hesitatingly, he warmed as he wentalong, and there came to him the strange power of collecting histhoughts and measuring his language which long years of Parliamentarytraining has made a second nature. The House listened--rapt, hushed, spellbound. And then there was no more to be said beyond a fewperfunctory observations from Mr. Balfour and the dismissal of the wholesubject. 

[Sidenote: Another scene. ]

And now we were once more in the thick of a fierce and passionateencounter. Mr. Arnold Forster had an amendment, the effect of which wasto remove the exercise of the prerogative of mercy from the hands of theIrish members to those of the English Secretary of State. Into thisinnocent amendment he sought to drag discussion of the doings of theLand League twelve years ago, and concentrated on Mr. Sexton a violentattack. He was not allowed to proceed to the end of his chapter. Thecharge was heinous, vile, and such as has rarely been introduced in theHouse in such a fashion, and soon the temper rose to a fever heat. Mr. Sexton is a dangerous man to tackle in this guise. 

In justifiable rage, quivering with wrath, he yet managed to preservethat cold and even tenour of language so perfect to his heart and hiswords. Again and again the Tory and Unionist party cheer for Mr. Balfour, Mr. Courtney, and Mr. Chamberlain, but Mr. Sexton is not a manto suffer such a statement to go unchallenged, and he succeeded ingrasping the whole thing and stamped the charge with the terms, baseand infamous. This led to other scenes, men rising and talking together. 

Mr. Chamberlain turned fierce in fore front. Again and again Mr. Gladstone arose to try and end the scene, and again and again he wasprevented by Mr. T. W. Russell at one point, Mr. Chamberlain at another, and Mr. Balfour at a third, to seek to bring the struggle back to thefierce temper it was about to leave. But the Old Man at last got up, andin measured language and tones which betrayed profound emotion, hescathingly denounced the attack of Mr. Forster as wanton andmischievous. Here again there was another uproar. The Old Man pursuedhis way, but Mr. Chamberlain again tried to get Mr. Sexton called toorder, but the charge had been too coarse, and Mr. Mellor declined tointerfere. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

REDUCED MAJORITIES. 

[Sidenote: The week before. ]

On Friday, July 7th, we just entered on the fringe of the ninth clause. The ninth clause had all along been held to be, perhaps, the verygravest rock ahead of the Government. This is the clause which regulatesthe position of the Irish members at Westminster after Home Rule hasbeen passed. There were as many plans for settling this question asthere were members of the House of Commons, and all plans were alike inbeing illogical, unsymmetrical, and, therefore, liable to attack from adozen different quarters. Already within a few days of each other, therehad been two divisions, on which everybody felt it to be quite possiblethat the Government would go down, and that we should once more go backface to face with the country and probably with a new and a strongerTory Government than ever. The first occasion was the clause dealingwith a Second Chamber. Then a certain number of irreconcilable Radicals, in their hatred of all Second Chambers, voted against the Government andreduced their majority to 15. This was a very tight squeeze; but, afterall, everybody had been prepared for it, and when the hour came, we allknew pretty well where we should be. There might be one or two men moreor less in the Tory lobby, but we had sized them up carefully. When, however, July 19th, and the ninth clause came we were face to face witha very different state of affairs. Then we had to face absoluteuncertainty--and uncertainty not in one, but almost every part of theHouse. And the curious thing about it all was, that this uncertainty wasaggravated by a little fact which had entered into nobody'scalculations, and this was the highly technical rule with regard to themanner in which questions are put when the House is in committee. 

[Sidenote: Technicalities. ]

I despair of ever being able to make this matter clear to an outsider;and, indeed, to be quite honest, I am not always sure that I understandthe affair myself. It will probably be sufficient for my purpose if Isay that the chairman has to put an amendment in such a way thatsometimes you find you are really precluded from voting on the directquestion which you wish to challenge. You are within the ring-fence of atechnical rule, which compels you to fight your issue there and not oneinch outside of it. This often means that questions are raised in themost indirect way--that you seem to be voting for one thing while youreally mean another, and that if you do not vote that way, you cannotvote any other. So it happened on this occasion. And we drifted aboutfor the best way of raising the question of the presence of the Irishmembers, and the Government were for a while in a state of absolute andpainful uncertainty. Then came one of those desultory conversations onpoints of order, in which so large a body as the House of Commons cannotshine--one man suggesting one method, one man another; half-a-dozendifferent methods proposed in as many minutes by half-a-dozen differentmembers. 

[Sidenote: 103 v. 80. ]

At last Mr. Redmond seemed to hit off the situation by a proposal toomit a couple of sub-sections in the ninth clause. But Mr. Redmond hadscarcely spoken when the House found itself in an extraordinary and mostembarrassing dilemma. The object of Mr. Redmond was plain enough; whathe desired to do was to retain the Irish members in the ImperialParliament in their present, that is to say, in their full, strength--103 they are now, 103 he wanted them to remain. The positionof the Government was equally clear. With emphatic language--with asuperabundance of argument--Mr. Gladstone stated his conviction that theIrish members should not remain in such large numbers and that thenumber should be 80. This was all clear enough; but what about theposition of all the other parties in the House?

[Sidenote: Tot homines, tot sententiæ. ]

At first sight, it would appear that this ought to be very clear. TheTories and the Unionists had several amendments on the paper. One wantedthe Irish members reduced to 48, one wanted to have them reduced to 40, and several of them desired that they should be reduced stillfurther--in fact, should reach the irreducible minimum of none at all. It was assumed, of course, that gentlemen who had thus indicated theirdesire for the reduction of the Irish members, or for theirdisappearance altogether, would vote against a proposition which askedthat they should remain in full force. If this course were adopted, Mr. Redmond would be crushed under a combination of the Liberals, who wantedthe numbers to be 80, and the Tories who wanted the Irish members todisappear altogether; but in these days, and with such an Opposition aswe have now in the House of Commons, it is not possible to make anycalculations on what course we would adopt. To the amazement of theHouse--above all things to the amazement of Mr. Gladstone--who has notyet entirely got over the traditions of the past, and, therefore, over-sanguine expectations as to the scruples of his opponents--Mr. Chamberlain and Mr. Balfour both announced that they were ready to gointo the same lobby as Mr. Redmond. And so those who wanted all theIrish members, and those who wanted none, were both going to voteexactly the same way. 

[Sidenote: A bolt from the blue. ]

For a moment everybody was staggered by this declaration; and itproduced a combination which anybody could forecast, and for whichnobody was prepared. There came accordingly something like a panic overthe House. Here we were face to face with a Ministerial crisis, withdoom and the abyss and the end of all things. Unexpectedly, in a moment, without a second's warning, this state of things led to a phenomenonwhich belongs to the House of Commons alone. Councils of war are usuallyheld in the silence and secrecy and beneath the impenetrable walls ofthe council chamber. But sudden councils of war, called for byunexpected events, have to be held in the open in the House of Commons. The world--the world of strangers, of ambassadors, of peers, of ladies, of the constituents, and, above all, the world of watchful, scornful, vindictive enemies--can look on as though the leaders of the partieswere bees working in a glass hive. And it is impossible for even thebest trained men to keep their air and manners in such dreadcircumstances from betraying the seriousness and excitement and awewhich the gravity of the events are exciting in them. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Gladstone's attitude. ]

On the Treasury Bench there was a good deal of excitement, but it waspretty well repressed: and in the midst of it all is the face of Mr. Gladstone, over-pale, with a strange glitter in the eyes that made themlook unnaturally large, two jets of lambent and almost dazzling flame, but otherwise very composed, deadly calm. On the Irish Benches theexcitement was more tense, for their course was even more difficult thanthat of the Government. The Government had stated their decision thatthey wanted only eighty members. But there was an Irish member, a leaderof a party which seeks to claim Irish support as a better Irish partythan the other, proposing that Ireland should have her full total ofmembers. The Irish members naturally would be inclined to support theircountrymen, if not to seek to keep the Irish representation as high asit could possibly be. 

[Sidenote: A splendid gambler. ]

On the other hand, if all the Irish members went the same way it was allup with the Government. Some fifty to seventy British Liberals adopt thesame policy as the Irish members with regard to the Irish question andthe Home Rule Bill, and if the Irish members only give the word, theyalso would vote with Mr. Redmond, and the Government would be "snowedunder, " to use an expressive Americanism, a majority of upwards of twohundred against them. Mr. Gladstone had evidently made up his mind thatthis was the situation he would have to face, and played his last, hissupreme, his desperate card. You could see that he himself felt thatthis was the kind of card he was playing from his look as he played it. There was outward calmness in the face, there was the same evenness oftone in the voice; he built up his case with the same unbroken commandof his language and ideas as is his usual characteristic. His statementof his position was admirable in its lucidity, its temper, and itscourage. But he was excited. Just as he rose up, Sir William Harcourtjumped up, and in a state of impatience and excitement that waspalpable, asked for something. It was a glass of water for Mr. Gladstone. The glass of water was brought in; it was put in front of Mr. Gladstone; he sipped it just as he was about to start on his perilousoratorical voyage, and then, clearing his throat, he made the fatefulannouncement which possibly was to wreck his measure and himself. Andthe statement came to this: If the Government were defeated, it would beby a combination of different parties, but they would all agree insupporting 103 as against 80 Irish members; and if they did that, whythe House was master. This was ambiguous, and yet it was pretty plain. The Government declined to accept as a vote of want of confidence inthem a majority which was obtained by so dishonest and treacherous acombination as men voting together who were at such opposite poles ofthought; and the Government would just checkmate the little game byaccepting the 103 members as what the House preferred to the Governmentplan of 80. 

[Sidenote: The fall of the flag. ]

There was a gleam of almost sardonic triumph in the Old Man's eye as hesat down, having shot this bolt; and he looked as if he had thoroughlydiscomfited his enemies. But his enemies were not so easily discomfited. Treacherous, base, unscrupulous, call it what he liked, they were notgoing to miss the opportunity of baiting him: and Mr. Chamberlain's paleface wore a deadlier pallor. There was even a colder and fiercer ringthan usual in his clear, cruel voice; his always saturnine look deepenedas he seemed to grasp beforehand his great and long delayed hour ofvengeance. Mr. Balfour adopted the same tactics. In favour of 103members? Not at all--the vote would mean nothing of that kind--it wouldsimply mean that they were opposed to the plan of the Government; inshort, there was the issue quite plain. The Tories and the Unionistswould vote black was white, wrong was right. This way one moment, theother way the next--they would do anything, provided only they couldturn the Government out, defeat the Bill, and humiliate the Old Man. Andso the situation grew more difficult every moment. 

For it was now plain that the Government were most certain to be beaten, and that if they were beaten, there must be an end of Home Rule. Itmight be good Parliamentary tactics to say that the Government wouldaccept the decision of the House, but everybody knows what moralauthority, what reality of strength, there is in a Government which hasbeen "snowed under" by a majority of 200. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Sexton makes the running. ]

It will now be understood what tremendous issues rested on the speechwhich Mr. Sexton rose to deliver. In moments of stress and difficulty heis the man always selected by his colleagues to state the Irish case. Never in his chequered and stormy early career did that wonderfulParliamentarian have a task more difficult than that by which he wasnow confronted. In front of him was the Government in the very panic ofimpending ruin. He had only to look across the floor of the House, andhe could see the pallid face of that mighty statesman who lives so highin the hearts and affections of the people whom Mr. Sexton represents, and who at that moment was in his hour of agony, if not of final andirretrievable ruin. Behind the Prime Minister were other men--equallyeager to hear what he had to say--that sturdy band of Radicals, mostlyfrom Scotland, who only wanted the word to desert their own leader andfollow the guidance of the Irish members. And behind Mr. Sexton was thegrimmest enemy of all--the men from his own country, who were resolved, on this occasion, to push the demand of Ireland to the extreme point, and who held that he would betray the Irish cause if he backed, notthem, but Mr. Gladstone and the British Government. 

[Sidenote: And takes the lead. ]

It required all the dexterity, all the coolness, all the splendidequanimity and courage of the man of genius at such a fateful hour tokeep his head. Mr. Sexton was equal to the occasion. He spoke slowly, and there was a hush in the House to catch his every syllable, for hiswords were the harbingers of fate. As he spoke so would be decided oneof the most momentous and indeed tragical of human issues. He spoke, Isay, slowly--but at the same time it was evident that he had his mindwell fixed on the end which he wished to reach. Nothing adds so much tothe effectiveness of oratory as the sense that the man who is addressingyou, is thinking at the very moment he is speaking. You have the senseof watching the visible working of his inner mind; and you are far moredeeply impressed than by the glib facility which does not pause, doesnot stumble, does not hesitate, because he does not stop to think. Manypeople, reading so much about Mr. Sexton's oratory, will be under theimpression that he is a very rapid and fluent speaker. He is nothing ofthe kind. He speaks with a great slowness, grave deliberation, and thereare often long and sometimes even trying pauses between his sentences. He could not conceal on this great occasion the anxiety and theseriousness of the situation; but the mind was splendidly clear, thelanguage as well chosen as though he were sitting in a room and holdingdiscourse to a few admiring friends; and what Mr. Sexton had to say was, that he would not go into the same lobby with Chamberlain and Balfour inorder to defeat the Government; in short, that he was going to vote withMr. Gladstone. A long-drawn sigh of relief. The Government is saved. 

[Sidenote: The field unsteady. ]

But hush--not yet. There are still some of the hard Radicals fromScotland who have never wavered in the idea that the Irish members oughtto remain at their full total. They have been partially relieved by whatMr. Sexton had said. But then Scotchmen are proverbially tenacious ofopinion; and not even his appeal--joined to the appeal of theirleader--will altogether change the purpose of those rugged sons ofbonnie Scotland. And so, Mr. Shaw, the member for Galashiels, gets up toask a question. He plainly declares that according to the answer givento this question, his vote would be given for or against the Government. So we are still in all the agonies of possible delay, for we know thatseven Parnellites will go against the Government--that counts fourteenon a division; and if only seven or ten more go the same way, there is amajority against Mr. Gladstone, and we are lost. Mr. Mellor has toanswer this fateful question, and everybody cries "Order, order, " whichis the House of Commons way of saying that people are very anxious tohear what is about to be said. Mr. Mellor gives an answer that satisfiesMr. Shaw. Mr. Dalziel--another sturdy Scotch Radical--is also satisfied;and so we have all the Liberal vote, with the single exception ofLabby--who quickly--furtively--almost shamefacedly--rushes off into theTory lobby. 

[Sidenote: Hoisting the numbers. ]

And now the division takes place. There have been severalspeeches--usually of a minute each--before the final hour comes; but weare all so anxious to know what fate is in store for us, that we cannotstand the strain any longer. The division--the division--let us know theworst. Be it good, or be it ill--let it come at once. The Whips from thetwo lobbies enter almost simultaneously--this shows plainly enough thatit has been a very near thing; then a dreadful hush as the numbers areannounced; we have won--aye, but we have by only fourteen! There is aburst of cheers from the Irish Benches; Sir William Harcourt laughsaloud in his triumph; the composure of the Old Man's face remainsunchanged; you see he has gone through a great many things like this;and that great heart and sane mind are prepared for any fate. Mr. Chamberlain says nothing; but looking into the recesses of his amendmentpaper, attempts to hide the choking rage of disappointment that has comeover him at this final defeat of his brightest hopes of trampling hisformer friend and his former chief in the dust. 

[Sidenote: A squabble. ]

And now comes the squalid sequel to all this glorious and splendidfight--the disorderly--the chaotic--the anarchic scene of the 11th ofJuly. The whole thing began simply enough. Mr. Brodrick, the son of anIrish landlord--a very light, though very serious young man--managed inthe course of his speech to speak of the people from whom he springs as"impecunious and garrulous. " At first nobody took any notice of what wasprobably a mere mauvaise plaisanterie; and the incident would havepassed altogether had not Mr. Brodrick immediately afterwards made amore direct appeal to the Irish Members. This elicited from Mr. Sextonthe retort that he need not make any appeal to the Irish Benches afterthe "grossly rude" allusion he had made to the Irish people. On thisthere was a mild hubbub on the Tory Benches. The House was very thin andvery listless, and really not in the mood to take anything verytragically. But Mr. Sexton resolutely refused to withdraw unless Mr. Brodrick gave the example. Mr. Mellor then--acting somewhatprecipitately--ruled that Mr. Sexton was out of order, and shouldwithdraw his words. 

[Sidenote: Mr. Sexton defies the chair. ]

This created a new situation. Mr. Sexton had now to fight, not Mr. Brodrick, not even Mr. Balfour--but the chair; and to fight the chair isto enter into a contest with the Grand Llama of the House of Commons. Meantime the House had filled; and every nook and cranny was occupied; alarge number of members were standing up; and there was that intensethrill of excitement which always forecasts a great outburst, and theoutburst came when Mr. Sexton--resolute and composed--gave it plainly tobe understood that he would not obey the ruling of the chair; and thathe must first get an apology from Mr. Brodrick, as the originaloffender, before Mr. Brodrick got any apology from him. Then was thecyclone let loose; and there began a series of the wildest, mostviolent, most angry, and disorderly scenes I have ever witnessed. Scoresof members were on their legs at the same time; men hitherto quiet, composed, and good-natured, began to raise cries hoarse with rage, andfinally four or five hundred voices were united in producing thedeafening and discordant din of angry and contradictory voices. Nor wasthis all. In some parts of the House men began directly to assail eachother--to exchange language of taunt, and insult, and defiance; and, inmore than one corner, there were the signs of impending physicalconflict. The one relief of the situation was that some men kept theirheads and looked on in sadness, while others, seeing only the comic sideof the situation, smiled upon it all. 

[Sidenote: Gladstone to the rescue. ]

Mr. Gladstone, who had been away to dinner, had meantime entered, and alook of pain and solicitude crossed his white face. There is so much ofinnate gentleness--of inexhaustible kindliness, and of high-bred andscholastic spirit beneath all the vehemence of his political temper andthe frenzied energy of his political life--that for such scenes he hasnever any stomach; and they always bring to his face that same look ofshock and pain and humiliation. And he it was who finally saved thesituation. Several times Mr. Brodrick would have been willing towithdraw, but Mr. Balfour was resolved to get Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Sexton into a difficulty, to convict Mr. Sexton of disobeying the chair, to compel Mr. Gladstone to take action against his most useful friendand most powerful ally. Over and over again, then, he refused to allowMr. Brodrick to get rid of the whole situation by withdrawing hislanguage, and so enabling Mr. Sexton to follow the example. Meantime, Mr. Mellor had ruled that Mr. Sexton had been guilty of gross disorder, and had called upon him to leave the House. Mr. Sexton had steadilyrefused, basing his refusal on the demand that there had been no vote ofthe House. The point was this: There are two rules for dealing withdisorder. Under the one a member is named, and then a division takesplace, in which the House may refuse or consent to the suspension of amember. Under the other rule, the presiding officer has the right tosuspend on his own motion, and without any appeal to the House. Thelatter rule was that under which Mr. Mellor acted. Mr. Sexton demandedthat he should be treated under the other rule, believing that if adivision had taken place the majority of the House, or at least a verybig minority, would have refused to sanction the action of the Chairman. This would have meant that Mr. Mellor would have been censured, andthereby compelled to resign the Chairmanship. 

Mr. Gladstone, I say, saved the situation. In language of touchingdelicacy and grace, he appealed to Mr. Sexton to obey the chair. Mr. Sexton at first would not yield; but when the appeal was renewed--whenit was backed by all the resources of that thrilling and vibratory voiceof Mr. Gladstone, his stubborn resolve gave way. He rose from hisseat--several Liberal members got up and waved their hats; the Irishmenfollowed their example. And then Mr. Brodrick was able to make histardy apology, and the matter for the moment was ended. 

[Sidenote: The interfering Milman. ]

There had been one little scene fiercer almost than any of the others. When Mr. Mellor proceeded to call Mr. Sexton to order, Mr. Milman, theclerk at the table, handed to him, with some appearance of ostentationand of eagerness, the rule which allowed him to compel Mr. Sexton'swithdrawal without an appeal to the House. This provoked some nowfiercely excited Irishmen to an outburst of blind rage. They shouted atMr. Milman fiercely, desperately--called upon him to leave the Chairmanalone, to take the chair himself; and Mr. Sexton made a bitter littlespeech to the effect that it was Mr. Milman's malignant interferencewhich had produced his suspension. It was thought that on Wednesday thismatter would be again raised; and even as early as noon there was a bigarray of members, expecting another outburst. But Mr. Balfour held hispeace. Mr. Sexton asked a formal question, and gave notice of a motionof censure on the Chairman. Mr. Mellor took the chair amid a wildoutburst of Tory cheers; and we got back to the tranquil considerationof clause nine, and to a delightful, good-humoured historical speech byMr. Swift McNeill on the representation of Trinity College, Dublin. 

[Sidenote: Divisions. ]

The old story came back to our minds on July 13th of the historic sceneat Tyburn when all the traitors were hanged in succession. When thefirst head was held up there was an awful shudder; the shudder was lessvivid when the second head was held up; and when the executioneraccidentally dropped the third there was a loud and mocking shout of"Butter-fingers. " So it was in the House that night until the dinnerhour came; but as ten o'clock approached, the House filled and there wasa rise in the excitement. The scene, however, bore no comparison to thefrenzied excitement of the preceding Thursday--it was evident we weregoing to have an anti-climax, and the whole arrangement of theOpposition broke down in an important and essential point. On theprevious occasion Mr. Balfour, by preconcerted plan, was speaking at themoment when the guillotine fell--with the idea, of course, of bringinginto greater relief the wickedness of the Government. Mr. Goschen wasmarked out to perform the same task this Thursday, but who should get upbut Atherley Jones. The delighted Liberals cheered him to the echo. Mr. Goschen had to sit down, and so the whole dénouement collapsed, and thecurtain fell not on the lofty and eminent form of a former Chancellor ofthe Exchequer, but on the less imposing figure of the disgruntledLiberal, who is always anxious to strike his party a blow. 

Then comes the division. There is some excitement, though we know wehave won. And then we cheer, as we hear that we have won by 27! Clause 9is now put as a whole. Our majority rises to 29--we cheer even moreloudly. 

[Sidenote: Tramp, Tramp, Tramp. ]

We go through the lobbies in eight more successive divisions. It is thedreariest performance. "That Clause so-and-so stand part of the Bill, "says the Chairman. A shout of "Ayes!" followed by a shout of"Noes!"--then a cry of "Division!"--then the same thing over again--andagain--and again. We stand at 85 majority in nearly every division. Butwe don't cheer, for it is too monotonous; and as for the poorTories--where be the wild shouts of "Gag, gag!" with which they rent thegeneral air--their hoarse cries of "Shame, shame"--their open and foultaunts in the face of the G. O. M. ? Silent--sombre--dogged--we go throughthe dreary round. Tout casse--tout passe--tout lasse. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

THE FIGHT IN THE HOUSE. 

[Sidenote: The fatal Thursday. ]

By this time everybody has read to his heart's content all theproceedings of that historic and dreadful Thursday night. I have alreadypublished elsewhere an account of my experiences; and within my limitshere I must somewhat curtail the story. But it is well to correct someof the many errors which have found their way into the press. In theslight reaction which has followed the first wild outburst, it is nowseen that there were certain exaggerations in the accounts. Forinstance, though there was an exchange of blows, altogether not morethan five people were concerned in this most odious part of the wholetransaction. 

[Sidenote: Herod--Judas. ]

The row began in a curious kind of way; and, indeed, to properlyunderstand the events of the night, it is necessary to make a perfectlycomplete separation between two distinct periods. The fall of theguillotine is always certain to be accompanied by a scene of someexcitement and violence. The violence has been diminishing steadily, asthe different compartments have succeeded each other; and though therewere some ugly rumours, the general expectation was that things wouldnot be so very bad. And, indeed, without any desire to make party orpersonal capital, I may state that undoubtedly they would not have beenso bad if Mr. Chamberlain had not intervened at the last moment. Opinionis unanimous that up to the time he spoke the feeling in the House was, though boisterous, rather good humoured. There was a conflict ofopinion, there were some shouts, there was that general din in the airwhich always marks the inspiration of a momentous event, but there wasno ill-temper. In a few moments Mr. Chamberlain had, to a certainextent, changed this; but even as to the period when he was speaking, Ifeel bound to correct the general impression and to say that my ownopinion was that the general spirit was one of frolicksome enjoymentrather than of the seriousness of real passion. Mr. Chamberlain himself, to do him justice--though he had elaborated a series of the mosttaunting observations, though sentence after sentence was intended to bean assault and a barbed taunt--Mr. Chamberlain, I say, seemed himself toregard the whole affair rather from a comic than a tragic point of view. Under the bitterness of his language, the tone was not that ofseriousness--and, indeed, it is very hard for any man to be perfectlyserious when he knows that he is speaking for a certain number ofallotted minutes, and instead of addressing himself to the particularquestion before the House, he has to make something in the shape of alast dying speech and declaration. The speech, however, was admirable inform, and still more admirable in delivery; the cold, clear voicepenetrated to every ear, and some of the sentences were uttered withthat deep, though carefully subdued swell which adds intense force byits very reserve, to the rhetoric of passion. 

[Sidenote: Joe's beautiful elocution. ]

Indeed, if I were a professor of elocution, I should feel bound to saythat if a pupil required a lesson in the highest art of delivery, hecould do nothing better than listen to Mr. Chamberlain's delivery ofthis bitter little speech of his; and, above all, that he could nowhereand in nowise better learn the lesson of the extraordinary increasethere is in the force of a speech by careful self-suppression on thepart of the speaker. There were one or two marvellous examples of Mr. Chamberlain's extraordinary readiness in taking a point. I think Mr. Chamberlain an extremely shallow man. I believe his knowledge to beslatternly, his judgment to be rash, his temper to be dictatorial anduncertain, but as a debater he stands, in readiness, alertness, andquickness in taking and utilising a point, supreme over anybody in theHouse of Commons, with the one exception of Mr. Gladstone. Thus when oneor two Liberals made somewhat foolish interruptions on July 27th heturned upon them and exploited their interruption with an art that wasalmost dazzling in its perfection. For instance, when he denounced theLiberals for accepting some clause as the best that could be proposed byman, some Liberals cried out, "Under the circumstances. " "Under thecircumstances, " said Mr. Chamberlain, with that strange, eloquent, deepswell in his voice, which adds so much to its effectiveness, and then hetook the phrase, repeated it, and reiterated it, and turned it upsidedown, until even his bitterest enemy could not help enjoying theperfection of the skill with which he played upon it. 

[Sidenote: Joe smiles. ]

Finally he came to the passage in which he drew an elaborate comparisonbetween Mr. Gladstone and Herod. I had no doubt at the time, and myimpression has since been corroborated by words reported to have beenused by Mr. Chamberlain himself--that he used the word "Herod" in amoment of happy and almost impish inspiration with a view to provokingthe retort which was so obvious. There was a self-conscious smile on hisface when he uttered the words, and he seemed to be quite prepared, andalmost delighted by the retort which followed so promptly. Furthermore, when several Tories rose to denounce the interruption he beckoned tothem with his hand; there was a gratified smile on his face; and hiswhole air suggested that he was so delighted with the success of hislittle manoeuvre that he thought it a pity anybody should spoil it; andespecially as the result was to create such a din as to prevent him fromfinishing his final sentence. And he wanted very badly to finish thatsentence; for over and over again, with an obstinacy that suggested thedelighted author, he sought to get the sentence out; and no doubt he wasvery disappointed that the guillotine finally fell upon him with thatsentence still unuttered. And there is one other point about this momentwhich I see has been completely lost. It is supposed that I and theothers who shouted "Judas, Judas, " did so in pure provocation--withdeliberate intent to apply the word to Mr. Chamberlain personally andwith fierce political and personal passion. That was not my impressionof what was meant; and that certainly was not what I meant. I took Mr. Chamberlain's mood as I think anybody looking at him could see that hemeant it to be taken; that is to say, I did not regard his speech as inthe least serious; and his allusion to Mr. Gladstone as "Herod" appearedto me a self-conscious joke, and not, as some earnest Liberals seemed tothink, a gross, foul, and deliberate insult. Indeed, I believed--andsubsequent events have confirmed that view--that Joe was thinking a gooddeal more of himself as the centre of a dramatic and historic scene thanof wounding Mr. Gladstone. And, then, the use of the word "Judas" mustbe taken with the context. Mr. Chamberlain was talking of the "days ofHerod, " and when I called out "Judas, " what I really meant was why notselect Judas, and not Herod, who was his contemporary, if you will referto this particular epoch of human history. I say all these things, notby way of extenuation; for really I regard the incident as closed; notby way of defending myself from rancour, for I felt none; but with aview to preventing an entirely incorrect view and impression of anhistorical evening from being stereotyped. 

[Sidenote: "I used it on purpose. "]

And I can call a very potent and trustworthy witness as to this beingthe proper view of the incident; for I understand that, almostimmediately after the scene, a good-natured Liberal said to Mr. Chamberlain that he must confess that the use of the word "Herod" wascalculated to produce the retort of "Judas"; and the report is that Mr. Chamberlain replied, "I used it on purpose, " or "That was my intention, "or some such phrase as that, which implied that he was neither surprisednor annoyed by the retort, but had rather invited it. I lost sight ofJoe for a good time after this--there were other things which had to belooked after; but I am told by those who were able to watch him closely, that his face wore all through the scene which followed a look of almostbeatific happiness--the happiness of an artist who saw slowly unfoldingthe drama to which he had given the impetus, and which he had fashionedout in his own reveries. 

[Sidenote: Opening of the row. ]

At all events, it was not either Mr. Chamberlain's use of the word"Herod, " nor my use of the word "Judas, " which really brought about thesubsequent row--except in the most indirect and remote way. Mr. VicaryGibbs seemed possessed by the idea that he should call the attention ofthe Chairman to the use of the word "Judas"; and he singled meout--although, of course, he knew that I was only one of many who hadused the word. I don't complain of this--I merely state a fact--a factwhich, laughingly, was admitted later in the evening; for here I may sayin passing that such is the extraordinary volatility and such the realgood-nature of the House of Commons, this terrible evening ended up inthe exchange of hearty and friendly jokes between some of the fiercestcombatants in the whole business. I had not the least idea of what Mr. Gibbs was saying--what his complaint really was I knew for the firsttime after the whole row was over; indeed, nobody could hear anything inthe din that was almost deafening. Mr. Mellor made several attempts tocatch Mr. Gibbs's statement; and only when, after straining his ears tothe utmost, he failed to catch one single word, did Mr. Mellor resolveto take no notice of what Mr. Gibbs was trying to say. This seemed todrive Mr. Gibbs almost beside himself--he shouted angrily and wildly, at the top of his voice, with fierce and almost frenzied gesture; and, after a while, he rushed down with every appearance of passion to theFront Opposition Bench to renew his attempts to make his point of order. All this time his passion had been rising higher and higher--until, inthe end, he was almost a painful sight to witness. His own friends wereforemost in trying to bring him back to composure; and Lord RandolphChurchill expressed, with the fine, full-flavoured plainness of ancientspeech, his opinion of the conduct of his friends. 

[Sidenote: Keeping the seats. ]

This plain-spoken opinion of Lord Randolph Churchill was induced by thefact that Mr. Gibbs and his friends had now resolved on a desperate stepto secure attention to his complaint. This was no other than refusing toleave the House, and take part in the division. It is more than twelveyears since this extreme, violent, and almost revolutionary step wasadopted before. On the dreadful night--how well I remember it!--when thenews came that Michael Davitt had been sent back to penal servitude, theinformation sent a thrill of such horror and almost despair amongst theIrish Benches, that some method of manifesting their feelings becameinevitable. By a series of circumstances, into which I need not now go, the manifestation took the shape of refusing to go into the divisionlobby, and retaining our seats. We were all suspended in turn, andremoved from the House by the Serjeant-at-Arms. 

[Sidenote: Logan. ]

Meantime, the unexpected and extraordinary delay in taking the divisionhad brought back some members from the division lobbies; and some hadactually recorded their votes, and were returning in the ordinary courseto their seats. Among these was Mr. Logan. Mr. Logan peered somewhatcuriously at the angry faces and the shouting figures on the ToryBenches, and approached them with the view of finding out what it wasall about. His air, somehow or other, suggested--quite wrongly, as itturned out--to the Tories that he was meditating an assault upon some ofthem: and there rose angry cries from them of "Bar! Bar!" This, inParliamentary language, means that the member is violating the ruleagainst any member standing on the floor of the House, except in thenarrow and short interspace which lies between the entrance door and thebar--a very small bit of free territory. Logan, in his turn, wasexasperated by these remarks, and used some retort. Then there wererenewed cries that he was not in order in standing up on the floor, together with a multitude of expletives at the expense of his party andhimself. And Mr. Logan thereupon said he would put himself in order, andsat down on the Front Opposition Bench. In doing so, he certainly didput himself in order, for a member can take his seat where he likesduring the progress of a division. But this step is what led to theviolent and unprecedented scene which followed. For Mr. Hayes Fisherimmediately caught hold of Mr. Logan by the collar, Ashmead Bartlett, Iunderstand, followed suit, and thus the first blow was struck. 

[Sidenote: Colonel Saunderson hits out. ]

It was partly curiosity--it was partly, I have no doubt, indignation--itwas partly the determination to rush to the assistance of a friend--thatled to the moving of the Irishmen from their own seats to the benchesabove the gangway, which are occupied by their political opponents. Inmaking this move they had no intention whatsoever, I believe, ofstriking or even hustling anybody, but the result of it was that ColonelSaunderson was violently pushed and his hat knocked off. I reallybelieve that the person next him, who gave him the final push, must havebeen one of his own friends; but angry, excited, and hot-tempered, hejumped to his feet. Mr. Austin, an Irish member, was at that momentstanding in the gangway, as innocent of offence as anybody in the House, and he it was who received the blow from Colonel Saunderson's clenchedfist. Mr. Austin fell, and immediately Mr. Crean rushed forward, and inquick succession gave Colonel Saunderson two hard and resoundingblows--one of which drew blood. 

[Sidenote: The bursting of the cyclone. ]

Then the cyclone burst. When the sound of blows was heard; when ColonelSaunderson was seen to be in grips with another member, anger--shame--horror, took possession of everybody; some men lost theirheads, determined to have their share in the fray, and for a briefsecond or two a solid cohort on either side--the Tories on one side, theIrish on the other--stared and glared at each other, with pallid, passion-rent, and, at the same time, horror-stricken faces--ready todescend into the abyss, and yet standing in the full consciousness ofhorror at its brink. William O'Brien, John Burns, Mr. Bowles, Mr. Healy, Tom Condon, a stalwart and brave Tipperary man ready for peace, readyfor war, and several others--myself included--rushed to separate andremonstrate, with the result that the scene came to an end in a spacewhich was extraordinarily short, considering the circumstances, butterribly long to those who lived through its horror. Really only threepeople were in that scrimmage--Mr. Austin, Colonel Saunderson and Mr. Crean. There was, I believe, some hustling, but of even that I sawlittle. Whether it was at this moment, or when Mr. Hayes Fisher laidhands on Mr. Logan, the hissing came from the gallery, I do not know;but it was at either of these two moments--a sound hideous, unparalleled, sufficient to bring the maddest man back to reason. Andthen, thinking once more that it was all over, we went into the divisionlobbies again. 

[Sidenote: The Speaker appears. ]

In common with most people, I had by this time forgotten all about Mr. Chamberlain--all about Herod--all about Judas; thinking the whole affairwas over and done with; that the incident had been submerged under therow; and all I expected we had now to do was to trudge drearily andwearily through the lobbies in the long series of divisions which wouldprecede the final passage of the Bill through Committee. It was onlythe wild cheering which announced the advent of the Speaker that broughtme back to the House, and gave me some idea of what had gone on. If youwant to understand why France welcomed Napoleon after the Terror, youhad only to be in the House at that moment, and understand the sense ofrelief, joy, and confidence which came over it when the presence of theSpeaker brought it to the sense that at last the reign of Anarchy wasover, and order was in the hands of one who could maintain it againstall men, and against the whole House if needs be. And then, to myastonishment, Mr. Gibbs complained of my use of the term "Judas" to Mr. Chamberlain. As I have said, all this had passed from everybody'smemory, it really had nothing to do with the awful scene which had justbeen enacted, and, in fact, it was like some sudden return to ancientand forgotten history. Moreover, it had the disadvantage of conveying anentirely wrong impression of what had really taken place; it shiftedback the attention to what was after all more or less playfulness, or atthe worst, mere verbal disorder, from the odious, brutal resort tophysical violence which had just taken place. Moreover, it put a wrongcomplexion on even the verbal disorder, for it put the initiative withme instead of with Mr. Chamberlain, and, finally, it entirely removedfrom view the gross and scandalous breach of order which Mr. Gibbs andhis friends had committed by retaining their seats and refusing to leavethe House. 

[Sidenote: My apology. ]

But the great consideration with the Speaker--and, indeed, witheverybody else who had the dignity and honour of the House of Commons atheart--was to shove underground as soon, as promptly, as roughly aspossible, the corpse of its dignity and reputation; and without makingany attempt to explain my conduct--to shift on the responsibility towhere it really lay--to draw attention, except by a mere sentence, tothat scene of physical violence--I made my apology. I cannot claim thatit was all that I ought to have said; several people have blamed me fornot calling attention to the use of the word "Herod" by Mr. Chamberlain. But really the Speaker was so generous; I entered so fully into his ideathat recrimination would only prolong an odious, detestable, anddegrading scene--that I could not haggle about terms; and was determinedto do my part towards getting back the House to a sense of its honour, dignity, and self-respect. 

[Footnote: Mr. Hayes Fisher. ]

There were some allusions to the deplorable business of July 27, duringthe following week. But the allusions were few--very brief, and veryshamefaced. Indeed, the House of Commons was so heartily ashamed ofitself that it had not the strength nor the courage to face its ownill-doing, and wanted to get away from the horrid thing as soon as itpossibly could. Yet there was a strong sense that an incident sounprecedented--so disgraceful, so utterly lowering to the dignity of agreat, august and historic assembly--should not, and could not beallowed to pass as though nothing had occurred. It was also prettyclear, amid so many conflicting statements, that the responsibility forthe passing over the gulf between mere verbal encounter and physicalviolence rested with Mr. Hayes Fisher, and that, therefore, it was onhim any punishment should be visited which the House of Commons deemednecessary for the protection of its outraged dignity. However, as I havesaid, the House of Commons was so heartily ashamed of itself, anddesired to get its shame out of sight and out of memory as soon aspossible. 

[Footnote: A lame apology. ]

But Mr. Hayes Fisher did not act particularly well. It was he who hadtaken Mr. Logan by the collar, and therefore, it was he who had struckthe first blow. There was some execrable haggling as to whether Mr. Hayes Fisher or Mr. Logan should make the first apology--execrable, Isay, because a gentleman never ought to haggle over an apology if hefeels that he has been in the wrong, and because nobody could deny thatMr. Fisher had been the original wrongdoer. The result was that whenMr. Gladstone came into the House on July 31st, and was asked questionsabout the business, the Old Man, for once, found himself in adifficulty. He had been told that apologies were going to be made; butMr. Fisher made no sign, and, indeed, it looked very much as if he woulddo nothing at all. Labby intervened at this psychological moment byreading that extract from the account in the _Pall Mall Gazette_ whichfixed Mr. Fisher's responsibility under his own hand, and it was seenthat something would have to be done. Then--and not till then--did Mr. Fisher speak and make his apology. Mr. Logan--who had very properlyrefused to take the initiative--then made a very brief but a veryhandsome explanation of what he had done, and after a few lofty wordsfrom Mr. Gladstone and the Speaker the matter was allowed to drop intothe dark abyss of oblivion. But we can't forget it. 

[Sidenote: Messrs. McCorquodale & Co. ]

On August 3rd there was a most instructive and important little debateon a Labour question. It had reference to the dismissal by the firm ofthe McCorquodales of several trade unionists. Suffice it to say, thatthe chief opposition to the claims of Labour came from Sir JamesFergusson, whose remarks were ardently cheered by the Tories; and thatSir John Hibbert was finally pressed by Sir Charles Dilke into a promisewhich binds the Government practically to refuse contracts in future toany firm which acts like the McCorquodales. It was a great victory forLabour--not the less great because it was all so quietly done. 

[Sidenote: A Government defeat. ]

There was a curious little incident on the following day--nothing lessthan a defeat of the Government. It arose on a small local Irish Bill. Blackrock is a small seaside place just outside Dublin. The Tories, whooccupy a good many of the villas, have kept the whole government of theplace in their hands by maintaining a high property qualification forvotes for the Town Commissioners. On this day they brought forward aBill; but it was opposed until they had mended their ways with regard tothe government of the town. Mr. Morley, acting on the official view, urged that the Bill might be passed and this other question dealt withseparately, but the Irish refused to be pacified, they went to adivision, and with the aid of the Radicals they managed to defeat theGovernment by nine votes. They celebrated the event by a hearty cheer. 

[Sidenote: And so to the end. ]

The penultimate week in August went on--wearily, tamely, andmonotonously. It was, perhaps, the presence of the Speaker--it was, perhaps, the painful recollection of the scene of violence on a previousoccasion--it was, perhaps, the universal exhaustion of the House;whatever the cause, the excitement on the night of August 25th wasinfinitely below what anybody would have expected. Throughout the wholeevening there was exactly the same spectacle as on previousevenings--that is to say, there was the same old obstructive groupdiscussing exactly the same topics; raising the same objections; goinginto the same subtleties as if the Bill were just in its first stage;and there was the same dreary and universal emptiness of the Housegenerally. At last, as eleven o'clock approached, the Unionists preparedthemselves for a dramatic effort. Mr. Chamberlain prepared aneducational bombshell, but Mr. Healy hoisted the engineer with his ownpetard. 

Then, quietly and noiselessly, we went through a couple of divisions;and before we knew where we were, Mr. Morley was standing at the table, and moving that the third reading of the Bill should take place thefollowing Wednesday. Nearly every one of the most prominent debaters hadby this time cleared out. The Irish Benches, however, remained full, andfrom them came a triumphant cheer as, at a quarter to twelve, the motionwas carried, and the second stage of the great measure of Irishemancipation was completed. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

IRELAND'S CHARTER THROUGH. 

[Sidenote: A dull beginning. ]

Insipidity, weariness, and dulness marked the commencement of theconcluding week of the Home Rule Bill in the House. There was no privatebusiness on the Monday, and accordingly for nearly a quarter of anhour--it seemed infinitely longer to the little group of memberspresent--the House sat in sedate and solemn silence. Then commencedquestions, and in a moment half-a-dozen members were buzzing withgnat-like pertinacity about the impassive figure of thePostmaster-General. Mr. Arnold Morley was continually on his legs. Forinstance, Mr. Bousfield wanted to know what rule there was which forbadePost Office employés to approach the House of Commons directly, or tosign a petition to the House with reference to any grievance, afterhaving unsuccessfully petitioned the Postmaster-General. Mr. Morleyreplied laconically, "There is no such rule. " Then several of the Torymembers attempted to corner Sir U. K. Shuttleworth about the quantity ofcoals consumed in the "Majestic" while going at full speed. Sir EdwardHarland was cautious, and Mr. Gibson Bowles, whose rising was the signalfor derisive cheers, was pertinacious. The Secretary to the Admiralty, always dignified, was grave and serious. He was not to be tripped up, and discreetly declined to be drawn. 

[Sidenote: Our first line of defence. ]

It is one of the well-known peculiarities of the House of Commons thatits attendance is usually in inverse line of proportion to theimportance of the subject which it is discussing. On August 28th theHouse was engaged in debating the question which above all others oughtto interest the people of this country--the state, namely, of our Navy. Yet the House was almost entirely empty throughout the whole evening, and the speeches were generally confined to the somewhat inarticulaterepresentatives of the services, and to the dullest and smallest men inthe whole assembly. It is obviously inconvenient--perhaps it is evenperilous--that interests so grave and so gigantic should fall for theirguardianship into hands so incompetent and so petty. It may be aninevitable accompaniment of our Parliamentary system that the navaldebates should be so conducted; if so, one must put it down as one ofthe evils which must be taken as part of the price we pay for theexcellences of a representative system. 

[Sidenote: Sir Edward Reed as an alarmist. ]

I may dismiss the debate on the Navy with one or two furtherobservations. Sir Edward Reed, though he knows a good deal aboutships--for he has had something to do with them all his life--is not anauthority whom one can implicitly accept. He is not a politician who hasprospered according to what he believes and what are doubtless hisdeserts, for he is a very clever man, and politicians who are a littledisappointed have a certain tendency to ultra-censoriousness, whichdamages the effectiveness and prejudices the authority of theircriticisms. Thus, Sir Edward has been always more or less of a pessimistwith regard to the doings of other men. On August 28th he spoke indecidedly alarmist terms of the lessons which should be taught to us bythe loss of the "Victoria. " Speaking with the modesty of a mere laymanon the subject, I should have been inclined to think that the chiefmoral to be drawn from that terrible and tragic disaster was theterribly important part which the mere personality of the individual incommand still plays in deciding the fate of hundreds of lives; that, inshort, the personal equation--as it has come to be called--- is stillthe supreme and decisive factor in all naval enterprises. But there maybe some grounds for the alarmist views of Sir Edward Reed, and I see noreason why his views should not receive prompt, candid, and independentinvestigation. The officials may oppose such an investigation; butofficials are always optimists, and the cold draught of outsidecriticism does them an immense deal of good. 

[Sidenote: The Grand Old Chieftain and his tactics. ]

At an early hour in the evening there was a very significant question, and an equally significant answer. Sir Charles Dilke called attention, with characteristic adroitness to a weapon which the Tories placed inour hands for dealing with such an emergency as that by which we were atthe moment confronted. It was Lord Salisbury who made the most excellentsuggestion that when a Bill had gone through all its stages in oneSession of Parliament it should not be necessary to repeat the processin the next, but that a mere resolution should bring the Bill once againinto the fulness of life. Would it not be possible for the Government, asked Sir Charles, to adopt the proposal with regard to their measures?The answer of the Old Man was cautious, vague, and dilatory. It is oneof his well-known peculiarities not to arrive at the solution of atactical difficulty one moment too soon; and this is a rule which, generally speaking, acts extremely well. I dare say Sir Charles Dilkedid not expect any other answer; and nobody in the House was surprisedthat the Old Man answered as he did. But all the same, one could readbetween the lines, and it was pretty clear that the Old Man waspreparing to face the situation by remedies drastic enough to meet evenso revolutionary a situation. 

[Sidenote: A great Parliamentarian. ]

Everybody was delighted--that is to say, everybody on the Liberal sideof the House--to see that the great old leader was displaying on thisquestion the same unerring tactics, the same resources the samewillingness to learn, and the same elasticity of mind as he hasmanifested throughout his whole life--or at least throughout all thatpart of it which dates from his escape from the shackles of his earlyand obscurantist creed. He has never concealed the fact that he departedfrom the old rules of the House of Commons with misgiving reluctance, and even repulsion. It would have been strange, indeed, if he could havefelt otherwise after all his long years of glorious service in thataugust assembly. But then, when the time did come for taking the plunge, he took it boldly and unshrinkingly. It was a delight to watch himduring this Session, and especially when it became necessary to use theguillotine against the revolutionary and iniquitous attempt to paralysethe House of Commons by sheer shameless obstruction. The "guillotine"was a most serious, a most momentous, and even portentous departure fromall precedent, except, of course, the Tory precedent of 1887; but theOld Man, when the proper time came, proposed the experiment with theutmost composure--with that splendid command of nerve--that lofty anddauntless courage--that indifference to attack, which explains hisextending hold over the imaginations and the hearts of men. 

[Sidenote: The plain duty of Liberals. ]

I have little doubt that he will be quite equal to any further stepswhich may be necessary to vindicate the authority of the majority in theHouse of Commons, and nobody doubts that such further steps may benecessary. The real and fundamental question--as I put it over and overagain--is whether the Liberal party and the Liberal majority shall gobefore the country at the next election with the charge made goodagainst them of lack of will, competence, and energy. If once thatcharge can be substantiated, I regard the Liberal cause as lost--andlost for many a year to come. Any Government almost is better than aGovernment which cannot govern; and the sentiment is so universal that Ihave no doubt the shifting ballast, which decides all elections, wouldgo with a rush to the Tory side, and would enthrone in the place ofpower a strong Tory majority and an almost omnipotent Tory Government. The Tories know this, and calculate upon it, and will devote all theirenergies, therefore to reducing the present House of Commons and thepresent Ministry to discredited impotence, contemptible paralysis. Sucha conspiracy must be met in the proper manner. Obstructive debate mustbe mercilessly closured; old rules must be abandoned without a sigh, andgive way to others more adapted to the necessity of the time. Above allthings the House of Lords must be flouted, humiliated, and defied. It ison the spring-tide of popular democratic and anti-aristocratic passionwe shall have to float the next Liberal Government into power. 

[Sidenote: Nepotism in the army. ]

When business commenced on August 29th, there was a beggarly array ofempty benches. For some time, the only Tory defenders of theConstitution were the ubiquitous George Christopher Trout Bartley andthe valiant Howard Vincent. Questions showed more inclination than everto wander into the purely parochial. Presently Mr. Burnie came alongwith an inquiry addressed to the War Minister whether it was correct theDuke of Connaught had been appointed to the chief command of the army atAldershot; and, if so, on what grounds he had been selected for thisimportant position. Several other vigorous Radicals were on the samescent. Mr. Campbell-Bannerman said it was quite true the Duke had becomeCommander-in-Chief. This was because of his fitness; because he waspractically the senior officer available, and because he had gainedexperience in both regimental and staff duties, having filled with greatcredit the high office of Commander-in-Chief at Bombay. Herculean Mr. Allan, of Gateshead, sought for information how many months the Duke ofConnaught was absent from his duties when he commanded at Portsmouth. Young Mr. Dalziel also came forward, wanting to know whether the Dukewould receive the salary of a General or a Lieutenant-General. Mr. A. C. Morton, who had appropriated for the nonce Mr. T. W. Russell's usualseat, was anxious for a further explanation of what was meant by theDuke being practically the senior officer available. He also wanted toknow what experience he had had in real fighting. The reply of the WarMinister was conciliatory. There were, he explained, one or two generalssenior to H. R. H. , but who were at present discharging duties from whichit was not desirable they should be removed. The pay would be that of aLieutenant-General. Owing to domestic circumstances, the Duke lived outof Portsmouth, but he was little out of the district he commanded. Heserved in the Egyptian campaign, which was the only opportunity he hadhad during his career in taking part in active warfare. This did notsatisfy either Mr. Allan or Mr. Morton. The member for Peterboro' wantedto be precise. How far was H. R. H. Away from the real fighting? The WarMinister could only smile and shake his head. Mr. Allan expressed hisdissent, and Mr. Morton, derisively cheered by a handful of Tories, solemnly begged to give notice that on the Army Estimates he would againraise the question of this flagrant job. 

[Sidenote: A triumph for Mr. Burns. ]

The evening was notable for a splendid triumph achieved by that fineDemocrat, John Burns. It arose out of the Navy Estimates. The conditionsof labour in the Government dockyards have long been crying out forremedy, and Mr. Burns presented the case for the men with a force andlucidity that carried conviction home to the minds of a crowded House, among whose members his is one of the most magnetic personalities. Themember for Battersea pointed out that, whilst he strongly approved ofthe attitude of the Government in adding £30, 000 to the wages of themen, the real step they should have taken was to ignore the opinion ofthe permanent officials, those bugbears of all reformers, past, present, and to come--pay the trades union rates, and abolish classificationaltogether. A very excellent smack at Sir John Gorst, Mr. A. B. Forwood, and other standbacks on the Opposition side was the remark:--"I wouldrather have the rate of wages in dockyards regulated by trades unionsthan made the sport of party politicians and put up as a kind of Dutchauction. " What have the Government to fear in this matter? The tradeunions must always have to face competition and trade rivalry, and theseelements alone are more than sufficient to keep down wages. So great wasthe impression made by Mr. Burns's speech, that official notice of itwas inevitable, and Mr. E. Robertson was able to make an announcementwhich gave, if not absolute satisfaction, at least a measure of it tothe champions of the artificers and labourers in our dockyards. 

[Sidenote: Home Rule again. ]

It was only the Old Man would have had the daring to begin the thirdstage of the greatest Bill of modern times at an hour soinauspicious--noon on a Wednesday sitting. Everybody knows that amongall the dead hours of the House of Commons, there is no hour so utterlydead as that. Indeed, very often such is the disinclination of thenatural man for unreasonable and unseasonable hours--it is very oftenextremely difficult for the Whips of the Government to get together theforty members who are necessary to form the quorum for the starting ofbusiness; and I have known cases where it was close upon two o'clock--ifnot even later--before there was a sufficient muster for the beginningof the day's business. However, Mr. Gladstone calculated correctly onthe magic of his name and the witchery of his oratory; for by a fewminutes past twelve, when he rose to make his speech, the House wascrowded in almost every part, and he had an audience not onlyunprecedented in its fulness at such an hour, but also delightfullystimulating in its general responsiveness and sometimes even its readyenthusiasm. 

[Sidenote: A mighty speech. ]

The speech of the Old Man was worthy of the occasion. For some hoursafter it had ended nobody had anything to say about anybody or anythingelse; it was one of those speeches that create something like rapture;and that oft-repeated declaration that he had never done anything likeit before--a declaration I have heard too many times to now altogetheraccept. The voice was splendid, the diction very fine, the argumentclose and well knit, the matter carefully prepared without any selfishadherence to the letter of a manuscript--a fidelity which always spoilsanything like spontaneity of oratory. And the Old Man was in splendidphysical condition and in the brightest of spirits. Indeed, I was nevermore struck with the extraordinary physical perfection which Mr. Gladstone's frame has maintained after his eighty-three years of fullactive and wearing life. The back was straight, the figure erect, themotions free, unconstrained, easy; the gestures those of a man whoseevery joint moved easily in a fresh and vigorous frame. And the face waswonderfully expressive, now darkened with passionate hatred of wrong, now bursting into the sunshine of genial and pleasant smiles. And--as isusual when he is in this mood--he was extraordinarily quick at takinginterruptions; he was, indeed, almost boisterous in his manner, andseemed to positively invite those interjectional interventions from theother side, which, in less exuberant moods he is sometimes inclined toresent. Mr. Chaplin had quoted a portentous passage from Cavour to showthat the great Italian statesman had declared against Home Rule. Mr. Gladstone was able to cap this with another passage--which, beginningwith a strong indictment of English methods of government in Ireland, wound up with the declaration that Ireland ought to be treated with thesame justice and generosity as Canada. While the Liberals were stillcheering this thrust, Mr. Chaplin got up to make the remark that Cavourhad said other things quite contradictory of this, whereupon the OldMan--still with a smile of deadly courtesy--pounced upon Mr. Chaplinwith the remark, "Is it your case, then, that Cavour contradictedhimself?"--a retort, the rapidity and completeness of which crushed Mr. Chaplin for the moment. 

[Sidenote: Cowed silence of the Tories. ]

When he dealt with the charge that the Government had unduly curtaileddebate, the Old Man had made up his case very thoroughly, and as he readthe damning indictment which showed the wild multitudinousness, theinfinite variety and the prolonged duration of the speeches of theOpposition, there was plenty of encouraging cheers from the Liberalside; while on the Tory Benches they sat in dumb and stricken silence. Indeed, throughout the whole speech, the Tories were singularly quiet. Perhaps it was that they too were carried away by the witchery and thespell which the Old Man had cast over the rest of the House; and, whiledisagreeing with him, were still sufficiently wound up to the lofty andmore empyrean heights which the orator reached to feel that there wouldbe something jarring and even common in a note of dissent. Whatever thereason, they remained uncommonly silent throughout the whole speech;and, sometimes, when one or two of the more ebullient members spoke, theinterjectors got very little change for their pains. 

[Sidenote: The readiness of the Old Man. ]

And this silence was the more remarkable in one or two of the mostimportant passages of the Bill, for the Old Man challenged interruption. Thus he ranged the objections to the Bill under seven separate heads, and then he proceeded to read out these heads. They were all a perfectlyfaithful representation--in some cases even a repetition--of what theTories had said; but stated baldly, nakedly, in the cold light of earlyday, they sounded intensely ridiculous. It was impossible, for instance, to take seriously the resounding proposition that the Bill "would breakup the Empire"--that under the Bill the loyal minority would incur lossof life, liberty and property, and so on. As Mr. Gladstone read outthese propositions there was a deadly chill, a disheartened silence, onthe Tory Benches which had its importance, for it showed plainly that, however ready they were to mouth these things on platforms they felt alittle ashamed of them in their more sober moments. Just once or twice, a stray Tory did venture to signify by a timid and faint cheer hisacceptance of the ridiculous litany of prophecy and reprobation whichMr. Gladstone was repeating to him. And then the Old Man was delightful;he smiled all over his face until its features were one vast mass ofcorrugated wrinkles; then he waved his hand a little to the other side, and finally congratulated himself on being in the happy position ofbeing even partially corroborated by gentlemen of opposite opinions, Whereupon, of course, the whole House laughed, including the very memberwhom the Old Man had thus toasted. In short, as will have been seen frommy description, the Old Man was in his very best form, in full commandof himself, of his friends, and even of his enemies. 

[Sidenote: A solemn peroration. ]

Finally, there came a peroration--lofty, almost inspired--splendidlydelivered, rapturously applauded. It rang out a note of perfectconfidence--of early and complete victory--of righteous trust in arighteous cause. And the House which had followed the great orator inrapt attention so long could not tire of cheering this glowing andinspiring end. For several minutes the cheers were given--and againgiven, and again. Meantime, poor Mr. Courtney had been standing--waitingfor silence. To him had been entrusted the task of moving the rejectionof the measure. He was dull, pedantic, and rather embarrassed after thisgreat effort of Mr. Gladstone, and the House emptied. There was acertain stir of curiosity as the name of "Mr. Disraeli" was called bythe Speaker; and then the bearer of one of the greatest names of ourtimes, stood up. His speech was brightish, cleverish, and yet there wassomething wanting. Mr. Redmond was critical, cautious, severe on thefinancial clauses, but finally pronounced for the Bill. And so westarted the first day of final debate on the Home Rule Bill. 

[Sidenote: The last lap. ]

There was no doubt about it; the House was thoroughly jaded, and itwould have been beyond the power of the most Demosthenic orator to rouseit to anything like enthusiasm. Several of the speeches throughout thefollowing evening were of a high order; but still there was noresponse--it was speaking from a rock to the noisy, unlistening, andirresponsive sea. The night of September 1st began with a brief, graceful, finely-phrased and finely-tempered speech by Mr. JustinMcCarthy, which confirmed Mr. Dillon's frank expression of the Bill as afinal measure of emancipation to the Irish people. The obvious sincerityof the speaker--the high character he has, his long consistency, and, above all, the sense of his thorough unselfishness, procured for Mr. McCarthy a respectful and even a sympathetic hearing from all parts ofthe House, and he had an audience silent, attentive, and admiring. 

[Sidenote: Joe's parting bolt. ]

The contrast between the kindliness, the sincere judgment, and thekindly disposition of Mr. McCarthy and the somewhat raucous andmalevolent accents of Mr. Chamberlain, was very marked. Not that Mr. Chamberlain was by any means so nasty as usual; it looked as if he hadbeen taught by the failure of his last utterance into learning at lastthat malevolence in the end defeats itself by its very excess, and heevidently had resolved to put a very severe restraint upon himself, andattuned his oratory to a very minor key. But this new tone was just asunsuccessful as the other, and there is a second unsuccessful and flatspeech to be put to his credit. Many of the ideas, many of the phrases, were repetitions of things he had already said a hundred times over inthe course of the previous debates; in short, the speech was arevelation of the fact, known to those who have watched Mr. Chamberlaincarefully, that the soil is very barren and very thin; and that after afew oratorical crops it becomes exhausted. Perhaps the failure of thespeech was also largely due to the fact that the Irish and the Liberalmembers, taught by previous experiences, resolved to also put restrainton themselves. They have learned by this time that interruptions do Mr. Chamberlain a great deal of good; and that his great nimbleness andreadiness never come out so well as when he has suddenly to answer suchan interruption. Addressing benches--blank, silent and irresponsive, helaboured rather heavily throughout the whole of his address; and therewas a complete absence even from the Tory benches of that loud andfrequent accompaniment of cheers to which Mr. Chamberlain is usuallytreated. In short, it was a dull, ineffective speech, mostly listened toin silence. 

[Sidenote: A coming man. ]

Sir Edward Grey delivered an admirable reply. In his case--as in that ofMr. Chamberlain--there was an immense disadvantage of a tired House, andthe audience had thinned somewhat after Mr. Chamberlain had sat down. But those who remained were fortunate enough to hear one of the mostperfect specimens of House of Commons eloquence that has been heard inWestminster for many a day. Indeed, there are few men in the House whohave so perfect a command of what I might call the true, genuine, andeven grand style of Parliamentary eloquence. Sir Edward Grey speaks witha perfectly unbroken, level tone; his language is moderate and reserved, and he has the great art of using language which implies and suggestsmore than it actually says. In short, his eloquence is that of perfecthigh-bred conversation, discussing questions with that completeself-command and composure of the man of the world who disdains to use, even of the greatest affairs, and of the strongest emotions, language ofpassion or exaggeration. Such a style is wonderfully effective in abusiness assembly, where men feel, even when they are under the glow ofsplendid eloquence, that there is behind the words a thinking, reflective, and composed mind. The speech gained enormously by thecontrast of its composure--its fine temper, its calm and broadjudgment--from the somewhat pettish, personal, and passionateutterances of Mr. Chamberlain. This young man will go very far--very farindeed. 

[Sidenote: Wearisome Wallace wit. ]

Then there was the interval of the dinner-hour--wound up with a speechfrom Mr. Wallace. The iniquity of the abandonment of the In-and-Outclause of the Bill was again the burden of his theme. He brought to thesubject the same quaint, rich, but somewhat elaborate humour which madethe success of his previous speech; and the Tories were more thandelighted with some telling hits which he gave to Mr. Gladstone for thechange of front. But Mr. Wallace made two mistakes. It is not given toany man to make a success twice over on the same theme; and he spoke atmuch too great a length. In the end he somewhat wearied the House, andaltogether the second speech was not equal to the first, though it had agreat deal of ability in it, and _The Sun_ was obliged next day toacknowledge with gratitude the great gratuitous advertisement which itreceived by numerous quotations from its columns. 

[Sidenote: Balfour at a disadvantage. ]

It was half-past ten o'clock when Mr. Balfour rose. By this time theheat, which had set in with quite tropical fervour, became almostoverpowering, and the House, which began by being tired, had becomealmost exhausted. It was under these depressing circumstances that theLeader of the Opposition started on what must have been to him somethingof a corvée, and for a considerable time--although the speech was notwanting in some very telling hits and bright sayings--he laboured veryheavily; he could not arouse the enthusiasm even of his own followers, and was thus wire-drawn and ineffective. 

[Sidenote: Honest John in fighting form. ]

If Mr. Balfour was at his worst, Mr. Morley was at his best. The speechwhich he delivered at Newcastle, during the previous week, placed Mr. Morley definitely in the very front rank of platform orators. After hisspeech of September 1st, he made a distinct and great advance in hisposition as a Parliamentary debater. His great defect as a speaker hasbeen a certain want of nimbleness and readiness. He has infinitely widerand larger resources than Mr. Chamberlain, who, nevertheless, excels inthe alertness which is often the accompaniment of shallowness. On thisoccasion Mr. Morley was rapid, prompt, crushing. As thus: Mr. Balfourhad spoken of the people who denounced Dublin Castle as "third-ratepoliticians. " "Who is the third-rate politician?" asked Mr. Morley, looking towards Mr. Chamberlain--everybody knows that he used todenounce Dublin Castle--and peal on peal of laughter and cheers followedfrom the Liberal and Irish Benches. Mr. Morley followed up his advantageby saying, with a comic air of despair, "It is very awkward to havecoadjutors using this kind of language about each other. "

[Sidenote: A reminiscence of 1885. ]

This is just the kind of thing which rouses even the most tired of theHouse; there was an immediate rise the temperature; the Liberals and theIrish were ready to delightedly cheer; the Tories, who always getrestive as they approach the final hour of defeat, grew noisy, rude, anddisorderly. Then Mr. Morley turned to the charges against the Irishmembers, and asked the Tories if their own record was so white and purethat they could afford to throw stones. This brought an allusion to theTory-Parnellite alliance of 1885, which always disturbs, distracts, andeven infuriates the Tories. They became restless and noisy, and Mr. Balfour and Mr. Goschen began to rise and explain. Well would it havebeen for Mr. Goschen had he resisted this inclination. Mr. Morley wasalluding to the Newport speech of Lord Salisbury, and Mr. Balfour wasdefending it. "Ah, but, " said Mr. Morley, "did you not"--meaning Mr. Goschen--"did you not yourself attack Lord Salisbury for that veryspeech?"--a retort that produced a tempest of cheers. There were thensome scornful and contemptuous allusions to Mr. Russell--to his stalevituperation, and, above all, to his grotesque charge against Mr. Morleyof making himself the tool of clericalism. "There are more kinds ofclericalism than one, " said Mr. Morley, alluding to the violentpartisanship of the Presbyterian clergymen of South Tyrone. Finally, thespeech ended in a lofty, splendid, and impressive peroration. Whentracing the progress of the cause for the last seven years, Mr. Morleyspoke with the fine poetic diction in which he stands supreme, of"starless skies" and a "tragic hour"--meaning the Parnell crisis--andthen he used the words which more than any other thrilled the House. "Wehave, " he cried, "an indomitable and unfaltering captain, " and cheer oncheer rose, while the Old Man sat, white, silent, with a composed thoughrapt look. 

There was the bathos of a poor speech from Colonel Nolan, and then thedivision. Everybody has the numbers now--34 majority--34 in spite ofSaunders and Bolton, of absent Wallace, and unpaired Mr. Wilson. Wecheer, counter cheer; we rise and wave our hats; and then quickly, quietly, even with a subdued air, we walk out and leave the halls ofParliament silent, dark, and echoless. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

HOME RULE IN THE LORDS. 

[Sidenote: A brilliant scene. ]

The brilliancy of the scene in the House of Lords on September 4th, whenthe fight over the Home Rule Bill began, was undeniable. Standing at thebar, in that small space which is reserved for members of the otherChamber, and looking out at the view, it was, I thought, one of the mostpicturesque and brilliant spectacles on which my eye had ever rested. The beauty of the House of Commons is great. But it is undoubtedlyinferior in beauty to the House of Lords. In the House of Commons theroof is a false one, for the original loftiness of the ceiling was foundtoo great to allow anyone to be properly heard. But in the House ofLords, where the acoustic properties are still extremely bad, theanxiety to hear its members has not yet proved great enough to inducethem to make any change in the roof, with the result that the Chambergives you an impression of loftiness, spaciousness, and sweep, such asyou do not find in the other. And then the walls at the end obtainadditional splendour from the fine pictures that there stand out andconfront you--pictures full of crowded life, movement, and tragedy. TheThrone, too, with all its gilded splendour, remains, even in itsemptiness, a reminder of that stately and opulent lordship which ourinstitutions give to a great personage above all parties and allclasses. 

[Sidenote: Lovely woman. ]

In addition to all this, the House of Lords has made provision for theappearance of lovely woman, which contrasts most favourably with thecurmudgeon and churlish arrangements of the House of Commons. In theHouse of Commons women have to hide themselves, as though they were in aMahommedan country, behind a grille--where, invisible, suffocated, andcrowded, they are permitted to see--themselves unseen--the gambollingsof their male companions below. In the House of Lords, on the otherhand, there is a gallery all round the house, in which peeresses and therelatives of peers are allowed to sit--observed of all men--prettilydressed, attentive--a beautiful flower-bordering, so to speak, to themale assemblage below. The variety and brilliancy of colour given bytheir fashionable clothes adds a great richness and opulence andlightness to the scene; in fact, takes away anything like sombreness, inappearance and aspect at least, from an assembly which otherwise iscalculated to suggest sinister reminiscences of coming trouble and theapproaching darkness of political agitation. The benches, too, have arichness which is foreign to the House of Commons, as the members of thepopular assembly sit on benches covered with a deep green leather, whichis dark, modest, and unpretentious. There is always something, to my eyeat least, that suggests opulence in the colour crimson, and the benchesof the Upper Chamber are all in crimson leather, and the crimson has allthe freshness which comes from rarity of use. In the House of Commons, with all its workaday and industrious life, the deep and dark green hasalways more or less of a worn and shabby look. In the Upper Chamber theoriginal splendour of the crimson cloth is undimmed; for most of thebenches remain void and unoccupied for 999 nights of the thousand onwhich their lordships meet. 

[Sidenote: The two chambers--a contrast. ]

Whatever the cause I always associate the House of Lords in my mind withemptiness and silence, and the gloomy scenes of desertion. And, therefore, when I see it crowded as it was on this historic Mondayevening, the effect it produces is heightened by the recollection andthe sense of the contrast it presents to its ordinary appearance. TheHouse of Commons has a certain impressiveness and splendour of air whenit is very full; I always have a certain sense of exaltation by the merelooking at its crowded benches on these nights when the excitement ofthe hour brings everybody to his place. But then the House of Commons isfrequently full, and there is no such sense of unusualness when you seeit thus that you have when you look on the House of Lords with benchesteeming with multitudinous life which you have seen so often empty, lifeless, and ghostly. Thus splendid was the scene, and yet it gave youa prevailing and unconquerable impression of gloom and lifelessness. Inthe House of Commons, the member addressing the assembly is like thewind which passes through an Æolian harp. You cannot utter a word whichdoes not produce its full and immediate response. You say a thing whichhas the remotest approach to an absurdity in it, and the whole Houselaughs consumedly and immediately. You utter a phrase which excitesparty feeling, and at once--quick as lightning falls--comes back theretort of anger or approval; your way is studded and punctuated withsome response or other, that signifies the readiness and the depth andamplitude of emotion in one of the most emotional, and noisy, andresponsive assemblies in the world. It is a curious change from all thisto look on all these crowded benches sitting in a silence that isunbroken more than once in the course of half an hour. 

[Sidenote: Spencer's serene courage. ]

I have often had to admire Lord Spencer--to admire him when he was apolitical foe as well as when he has been a political friend; but Idon't think I ever admired him so much as when he stood up on September4th to address this strange assembly. Hours he has passed through ofall-pervading and all-surrounding gloom, danger, and assassination; butI do not suppose his nerve was ever put to a test more trying than whenhe confronted those large battalions of uncompromising and irresponsivefoes. There were foes on all sides of him. They filled the many benchesopposite to him; they filled, with equal fervour and multitudinousness, the benches on his own side. It was remarkable to see the thoroughnesswith which the Tories had mustered their forces; but the spectacle ofthe Liberal Unionists' Benches was even still more remarkable, for therewas not a seat vacant; they had all come--those renegade and venomousdeserters from the Liberal ranks--to do their utmost against the Liberalparty and their mighty Liberal leader. And what support had Lord Spenceragainst all these foes--before him, around him--on all sides of him? Onthe benches immediately behind him there was a small band of men--notforty all told--looking strangely deserted, skeleton-like, even abashedin all their loneliness and isolation. These were the friends--few butfaithful--amid all the hundreds, who alone had a word of cheer for LordSpencer in a long and trying speech he had to address to hisirreconcilable foes. But if there was any tremor in him as he stood upin surroundings so trying, I was unable to detect it. Indeed, at themoment he rose, there was something very fine and very impressive in hisfigure. He is, as most people know, a man of unusual height; hardexercise and the ride across country have kept him from having any ofthat tendency to _embonpoint_ which destroys in middle age so many afine figure. On the contrary, there is not a superfluous ounce of fleshon that tall, alert figure; it is the figure of a trained athlete ratherthan the figure one would associate with a nobleman in the end of aself-indulgent and ever-eating and over-drinking century. The features, strong yet gentle, though far from regular, have considerabledistinction, and the flowing red beard makes the face stand out in anyassembly. Carefully but plainly dressed, erect, perfectly composed, andcourteous in every word and look and gesture, Lord Spencer made his pleafor justice to the nation where once his name was the symbol for hatredand wrong. 

[Sidenote: A man of deeds, not words. ]

Lord Spencer is not an orator. Simple, unadorned, straightforward, hespeaks just as he feels; and this lent a singular fascination to aspeech which from other lips might have sounded thin and ineffectual, for the speech was nothing less than a revelation into the depths of anature singularly rich in courage and experience. One cannot helpthinking of all that lay behind those plain and unadorned words in whichLord Spencer told the story of his conversion from the policy ofcoercion to that of self-government. Here was the man who had looked outone summer evening on the spot where his close friend--his chiefsubordinate--was hacked to death; this was the man who had brought toconviction and then to the narrow square of the execution yard themembers of one of the most powerful and sanguinary of conspiracies; herewas the man who for years had passed through the streets of Dublin andthe towns of Ireland amid the rattle of cavalcade, as necessary for hisprotection against popular hate as the troops that protect the person ofthe Czar in the streets of Poland. Here was, indeed, a man not of wordsbut of deeds; one who spoke not mere phrases coined from the imaginingsof the brain, but one who had seen and heard and throbbed; had lookedunappalled into the depths and the abysses of human life, and thedreadest political experiences; one who had visited the Purgatorio andconversed with the lost or the tortured souls, and come back from thepilgrimage with words of hope, faith, and charity. Altogether it was afine speech--worthy of the man, worthy of his career, worthy of thegreat and historic occasion. 

[Sidenote: Funereal Devonshire. ]

I wish I could say as much of the speech of the Duke of Devonshire. Itmay be that his miserable failure was due to the fact that he is as yetunaccustomed to the House of Lords, and that the modesty which isundoubtedly one of his disadvantages as a public speaker has not yetbeen overcome; but his speech was a return to the very worst manner ofhis earlier days in the House of Commons. I have heard the Duke ofDevonshire in his early manner and in his late; and his early manner wasabout as detestable as a man's manner could have been. He had a habit ofsinking his voice as he approached the end of a sentence, so that asentence beginning on a high note gradually sank to a moan, and amurmur, and a gulp. The whole effect was mournful in the extreme, andgave you a sense of the weariness and the worthlessness of all humanlife such as the most eloquent ascetic could never succeed in imparting. In the House of Lords, the Duke of Devonshire suddenly returned to hisearly and bad manner, and delivered a speech which was more like afuneral oration than a call to arms. 

[Sidenote: Lord Ribblesdale. ]

Of the remaining speeches I need say little. Lord Brassey, in a fewmanly and straightforward words, expressed his entire sympathy with theprinciple of the Bill; Lord Cowper gave another very melancholy andinaudible performance. And then came one of the most remarkable speechesthe House of Lords has heard for some time. From the Treasury Benchthere stood a tall, slight, and rather delicate figure. The face, long, large-featured, hatchet-shaped, was surmounted with a mass ofcurling-hair; altogether, there was a suggestion of what Disraeli lookslike in that picture of him as a youth which contrasts so strangely andsadly with the figure and the face we all knew in his later days. Thiswas Lord Ribblesdale. Lord Ribblesdale holds an office in the RoyalHousehold in the present Administration. Up to a short time ago, he wasunknown in even the teeming ranks of noble littérateurs; but an articlehe wrote on a conversation with the late Mr. Parnell gave indications ofa bright and apt pen, a great power of observation, and a shrewd, impartial mind. On Sept. 4th, he surprised the House by showing also thepossession of very rare and very valuable oratorical powers, His speechwas excellent in diction, was closely and calmly reasoned, and producedan extraordinary effect, even on the Tory side, which, beginning by astony silence, and a certain measure of curiosity--ended by giving animpression of being moved, and even awed a little by this speech. Altogether a very remarkable performance; we have not heard the last nowthat we have heard the first of Lord Ribblesdale in the fields of partyoratory. 

[Sidenote: A striking personality. ]

The Duke of Argyll has changed a good deal in physical appearance duringthe last twenty years. There was a time when he was was robust andsquat, a rather stout little man, with a slightly strutting manner, headthrown back, and very fine and spacious forehead; a head of hair asluxurious and drooping as that of Mary Magdalene. The form hasconsiderably shrunk with advanced years, but not with any disadvantage, for the face, pinched and lined though it appears, has a finer and moreintellectual look than that of earlier days. Wrong-headed--perhaps veryself-conceited--at all events, entirely left behind by the advancingdemocratic tide, the Duke of Argyll is yet always to me a sympatheticand striking figure. If he thinks badly, at least he thinks originally. His thoughts are his own, and nobody else's; and though he is a bittercontroversialist, at least he feels the weight and gravity of the vastquestions on which he pronounces. Above all things, he has a touch ofthe divine in his oratory. He is, indeed, almost the last inspiredspeaker left in the House of Lords. There is another speaker, of whommore presently, with extraordinary gifts, with also true oratoricalpowers, capable of producing mighty effects; but with Lord Rosebery thelight is very clear and very dry; there is none of the softness andbrilliancy, and poetic and imaginative insight which are to be found inthe speeches of the Duke of Argyll. On September 6th the Duke used veryvehement and some very whirling language about Mr. Gladstone; hisreading of history was all wrong; his policy for Ireland was--to put itplainly--brutal. But what cannot be forgiven to a man who has stillsuch a beautiful voice--who still gesticulates so beautifully--and, above all, who is capable of rising to the height of some of thepassages in the speech on this particular Wednesday? For instance, whatcould have been more beautiful than that passage in which he put theargument that Ireland was too near to be treated in the same way as adistant colony--the passage in which he spoke of seeing from the ScotchHighlands the sun shining on the cornfields and cottage windows ofAntrim?

[Sidenote: Rosebery's great triumph. ]

On September 7th a very great event happened in the House of Lords. Themental mastership of that assembly was transferred from one man toanother, from the master of many legions to the captain of a few thinand almost despised battalions. I heard the whole of Lord Rosebery'sspeech, and I heard three quarters of the speech of the Marquis ofSalisbury, and no impartial man could deny the contrast between thesetwo speeches on this occasion, the one being no less fine and complete, the other no less monotonous than I have set forth. It was not merelythat Lord Salisbury proved himself vastly inferior to Lord Rosebery inmere oratory, but the speech of the Foreign Secretary was that of afiner speaker, and of a more serious, intellectual, and sagaciouspolitician. 

[Sidenote: A disadvantage conquered. ]

Lord Rosebery had the disadvantage of following upon a speaker who hadreduced the House to a state of somnolent despair. Lord Selborne has anepiscopal appearance, the manner of an author of hymns, and the unctuousdelivery of a High Church speaker. But like most of the orators of theHouse of Lords, he considered two hours was the minimum which he wasentitled to occupy, and though he spoke with wonderful briskness, for anoctogenarian, at the beginning of his observations, his voice soonbecame so exhausted as to be a mere senile and inaudible whisper. Deeperand deeper it descended, and the House was in the blackest depths whenthe Foreign Secretary rose to speak. Everybody knows how embarrassingand distressing it is to an orator to have to begin by rousing anassembly that has been thus depressed; and the difficulty was increasedin the case of Lord Rosebery by the fact that he had to address anaudience in which four hundred men were against him and about forty inhis favour; and there is no orator whose nerve is so steady, and whoseself-confidence is so complete, as not to be depressed and weakened bysuch a combination of circumstances. This is partly the reason of thelighter tone of the earlier observations which offended some toosensitive critics. Indeed, it might have seemed for some time as if LordRosebery got up with the idea of treating the whole business as themerest unreality of comedy; and had resolved to signify this by refusingto treat either the House or the Bill or himself seriously. In face ofthe tragedies of the Irish sphinx--with all its centuries of broodingsorrow behind it, this was not a tone which commended itself to thejudicious. But, then, this was a too hasty criticism. The light andalmost chaffing introduction was necessary in the highest interests ofart; for, as I have said, the House was depressed, and it was in no moodto listen to an orator whose creed appeared to it the merest ranktreason. It was necessary to get the House into something likereceptiveness of mood before coming to serious business; when that wasdone, it was time enough to seek to impress it. 

[Sidenote: An oratorical tour de force. ]

And this is just what happened. Everybody was in really good spirits bythe time Lord Rosebery ten minutes on his legs; Lord Selborne's unctuousdronings had disappeared into the irrevocable and vast distances; inshort, the moribund Chamber was alive, vivacious, and receptive. Andwhen he had got them to this point Lord Rosebery took the serious partof his work seriously in hand. Not that he attempted lofty appeal. Onthe contrary, rarely throughout the speech did he raise his voice abovethat clear, penetrating, but eminently self-restrained tone which is thetone of a man of good society, discussing the loftiest and most complexproblem with the easy and disillusioned composure of the experienced andslightly cynical man of the world. Nay, Lord Rosebery offended some ofhis critics by openly avowing the creed of the man of the world indealing with the whole problem. He was careful to disown enthusiasm, orfanaticism, or even willingness in the service of Home Rule. It was withhim simply a frigid matter of policy, a policy to which he had beendriven by the resistless evidence of facts, the resistless logic ofreason. 

[Sidenote: A deep-laid purpose. ]

This frankly was an attitude which grated slightly on the sensitivenerves of the many to whom Ireland's emancipation--with all the sobbingcenturies which lie behind it--is a fanaticism, a faith, a great creed;but the point to be really considered is whether this was the tone toadopt for the purpose of carrying out the desired end. And I am inclinedto think--and some of the hottest Irishmen I know agree with me--thatthis was the very way Lord Rosebery should have spoken. And after all itwas wonderfully impressive--even to me with all I feel about the Irishquestion. For the image it presented--set forth by the physical aspectof the orator--was such as I can imagine to be wonderfully impressive tothat dull, unimaginative, and unsentimental personage--the man of theshifting ballast, whose almost impenetrable brain has to finally decidethis question. And the image presented to that very creature of clay wasthis: "Here is a man who is my Foreign Secretary; as such, he has everyday of his life to deal with questions which affect my interests in themost direct way; to fight for my purse, my future, my Empire; and he hasto do so with his brain matched against the brains of the astutest menin the world--the diplomatic representatives of other Powers. And allthis he has to do with the sense that behind the smooth language ofdiplomacy, the unbroken and even voices of diplomatic representatives, there stand ironclads and mighty armies--bloodshed, wholesale, andhideous death--the tiger spirit and powers of war. And I see that theman who has all these complex problems to solve--these trained gamblersto watch--these sinister Powers to confront and think of--is a man ofcold temper, of frigid understanding, of a power of calm calculation inface of all the perils and all the emotions and all the sentiment of theperplexing Irish problems; and to him Home Rule has come as a set, soberchoice of possible policies for the interest of our Empire. " Such anattitude--exalted by the even, though powerful, the cold, thoughpenetrating voice--the face impassive and inscrutable--the eye, steady, unmoving, and unreadable--all this, I say, was just the kind of thing toproduce an immense impression on those who are ready only to accept HomeRule as the policy that pays best. 

[Sidenote: Even the Peers impressed. ]

And certainly the House of Lords was wonderfully impressed by thisattitude. There was no applause, except now and then from those skeletonranks that lay behind Lord Rosebery, but then there was in the whole airthat curious and almost audible silence--to use a consciousparadox--which conveys to the trained ear clearer sounds of absorptionand attention than the loudest cheers. And then you began to forget thebadinage of the earlier sentences--you forgave the frigidity andself-repression--you became strongly fascinated by the mobile face, inscrutable eyes, and the voice penetrated to your innermost ear; hegave you an immense sense of a clear, masterful, and resolute mind andcharacter. And, finally, towards the end, when, to a certain extent, Lord Rosebery let himself go, there was a ring not of ordinary emotion, but of the passion of a great Minister who was fully conscious of theImperial and supreme responsibility of a Foreign Minister, who was ableto look great and even complex facts straight in the face, who had thecourage to face the disagreeable solution of a troublesome and perilousproblem. And, in spite of its lethargy, its hatred of his opinions, theHouse of Lords felt this also, and there was something of awe in thesilence with which it listened to the ringing words of warning withwhich the speech concluded. And its attitude showed more. It was, so tospeak, a soul's awakening; it was the discovery of having found at lasta man who could sway, impress, and strike its imagination. 

[Sidenote: Salisbury's signal failure. ]

On Friday night, September 8th, Lord Salisbury had his opportunity ofundoing this great effect--of reasserting that intellectual as well asmere voting dictatorship which he holds in the House of Lords; and hesignally failed to rise to the occasion. I do not like the policy ofLord Salisbury, but there is a lucidity, a point, and sometimes a vigourin his speeches which make them usually charming reading. It was, therefore, with the full expectation of being interested that I listenedto him, but he drove me out of the House by the impossibility of mykeeping awake under the influence of his dull, shallow, anddisappointing speech. He began with a little touch of nature thatcertainly was prepossessing. He had brought in with him a dark-brownbottle, like the bottle one associates with seltzer water. The fluid wasperfectly clear; it was evidently not like the strong wine which PrinceBismarck used to require in the days when he used to make greatspeeches. And Lord Salisbury, as he poured out a draught--it looked verylike Johannis water--lifted up the bottle to the Ministers opposite witha pleasant smile, as though to prove to them that he was not offendingagainst even the sternest teetotal code. 

It was the first and the last bit of real human naturalness in the wholespeech, for Lord Salisbury's manner and delivery are wooden, stiff, awkward and lumbering. He stands upright--except, of course, for thatheavy stoop of the shoulders which is one of his characteristics--andrarely moves himself one-hundredth part of an inch. The voice--even, clear, and strong, and yet not penetrating, and still lessinspiring--rarely has a change of note; it is delivered with thestrange, curious air of a man who is thinking aloud, and has forgottenthe presence of any listeners. The eyes--hidden almost amid the shaggyand black-grey hair which covers nearly the whole face--are neverdirected to any person around. They seem to gaze into vacancy;altogether there is something curious, weird, almost uncanny, in thisgreat, big whale of a man, intoning his monologue with that curiousdetachment of eye and manner in the midst of a crowded, brilliant, andintensely nervous and restless assembly of men and women. 

[Sidenote: The pessimism of a recluse. ]

And it was not to be wondered at that a speech so delivered--a meresoliloquy--should fail to be impressive. It was too far and awayunreal--had too little actuality to reach the poor humble breasts thatwere panting for excitement and exhortation. But once throughout it allwas there a touch of that somewhat sardonic humour that sometimesdelights even Lord Salisbury's political foes. Replying to the veryclever speech of Lord Ribblesdale, Lord Salisbury described the speechas a confession, and all confessions, he added, were interesting, fromSt. Augustine to Rousseau, from Rousseau to Lord Ribblesdale. That, Isay, was the solitary gleam. For the rest, it was an historicalessay--with very bad history and worse conclusions; and the whole spiritwas as bad as it could be. The Irish were still the enemy such as theyappear in the bloody pages of Edmund Spenser, or in the warproclamations and despatches of Oliver Cromwell; and yet I cannot feelthat Lord Salisbury's language could be resented as, say, the samelanguage would be from Mr. Chamberlain. It all sounded so like thedreamings of a student and recluse--discussing the problem without muchpassion--without even malignity--but with that strange frankness of theunheard and unechoed musings of the closet. 

[Sidenote: A muttered soliloquy. ]

Finally, the speech also had the narrowness, shallowness, and unrealityof the hermit's soliloquy. In the main, there was no insight. Alogic-chopper, a dialectician--even in some respects a musingphilosopher--such Lord Salisbury is; but breadth, depth, clearvision--of that there was not a trace in the whole speech. And then youwent back in memory to the other speech--so clear, so broad-directed, yet uttered by a man who looked straight before him and all aroundhim--who felt the presence in his every nerve of that assembly therewhich he was addressing; who lived and saw instead of dreaming--and youcould come to no other conclusion than that of the two leaders of theHouse of Lords, the young man was the statesman and the man of action aswell as the orator, and that it was worth the spending even all theweary hours of this past week in the House of Lords to learn so much ofthese great protagonists in our Parliamentary struggles. 

[Sidenote: Anti-climax. ]

Of other speakers I say but little. I came in during the dinner hour tosee a very little man with what we call in Ireland a "cocked" nose, aconceited mouth, and a curious mixture of the unctuousness andbenedictory manner of the pulpit and the limp twitterings of the curateat a ladies' tea-fight. This was the head of the Bishop of Ripon. Icannot stare for even a second at this tiny tomtit and artificialfigure, with all those lawn sleeves and black gowns, and all the otherfripperies and draperies of the parson-peer, who is to every rationalman so grotesque and contemptible an intruder in a legislative chamber. In the grim and crowded gallery of the personages of an Irish Epic, suchan intruder is like the thin piping note of a tiny bird mid the carnageand shouts and roars of a battle-field. 

Everybody knows the result of the division: for the Bill, 41; against, 419; majority, 378. It was a conclusion that was foregone, but the Lordsthemselves recognized the comic futility of it. The attempted cheersended in one loud, mocking, universal laugh. And thus the curtain fellon the historic drama of the great Home Rule Session. 

T. P. 

THE END. 

INDEX. 

Address, the; 17-30Agriculture; 24-28Alarm, a false; 185-6Anarchy, the unloosing of; 166-7Allan, Mr. ; 258Apology, Mr. H. Fisher's; 250-1 ---- a lame; 251-2Argyll, the Duke of; 275-6Asquith, H. H. ; 15, 42, 46, 52, 128-30, 185 ---- A splendid speech; 28-9 ---- Advocate rather than Minister; 28 ---- as Leader; 148 ---- and the miners; 162Austin in the fight, Mr. ; 249

Baiting the lion; 78Bannerman, Campbell- (see Campbell-Bannerman). Balfour, A. J. ; 29, 77, 86, 126, 141, 178, 183-6, 195, 204, 211, 224-5, 231, 234, 239, 266-7 ---- Independent of tradition; 17 ---- and Sir John Gorst; 26 ---- and Home Rule; 37 ---- attacks the chairman; 65 ---- and Churchill deadly foes; 72-3 ---- and Chamberlain unfriendly; 73 ---- and resident magistrates; 94 ---- and the Vote of Censure; 104-5 ----'s sensitiveness; 106 ---- limp; 128-9 ---- and Gladstone; 195, 196 ---- the unready; 215-6Bartlett, Ashmead; 123-4Bartley, G. T. C. ; 55, 57, 200-1, 258 ----'s character; 54Barton and Dunbar; 117, 148-9Beach, Sir Michael Hicks (see Hicks-Beach). Beaufoy, M. H. ; 17Belfast Catholics, The attack on; 147-9Biggar, Mr. , a reminiscence; 98-9Bills, bringing in; 13-4Bimetallism; 55, 57, 200-1Birrell, Augustin; 116-7Bolton, T. ; 268Bowles, Gibson; 64, 258 ---- and the fight; 249Brodrick, Mr. St. John; 237-9Bryce Mr. J. , and Home Rule; 38 ---- and Mr. Gladstone; 181-2Bryne, Mr. ; 189Budget, The; 146-7, 151-2Bullet in Downing Street, the; 153-5Burnie, Mr. ; 258Burns, John; 163 ----'s appearance; 16, 62 ---- and Lowther; 65 ---- and Chamberlain; 196 ---- and the fight; 249 ---- A triumph for Mr. ; 259-60 ---- in fighting form; 266-7Bursting of the cyclone, the; 248-9Burt, "Tommy"; 150-1Byles, W. P. ; 69

Calm before the storm, the; 111Campbell-Bannerman, Mr. ; 258-9 ----'s wit; 26Carlton Club echoes; 77Carson, E. ; 92-3, 138-40 ---- in the Green Street Court-House; 93-5 ---- the lawyer and the hangman; 94 ---- and Fred Archer; 139Cavendish, Victor; 177Chamberlain, Austen; 135 ----'s resemblance to his father; 12Chamberlain, Joseph; 13, 43, 66, 77, 81, 97, 101-2, 136-7, 178, 185-7, 189, 204, 228, 231, 234, 237, 264-5 ----'s party; 12 ---- and "Tom Potter"--an incident; 21-2 ---- A tumble for; 27 ---- attacks the chairman; 65 ---- and Balfour unfriendly; 73 ----'s inaccuracy; 73-4 ---- as a Jingo; 100-1 ---- and Gladstone; 118-9, 143-4 ---- and Parnell; 119-20 ---- abashed; 121 ----'s dustheap; 128 ---- pleased; 132-3, 143-4 ---- angry; 134-5 ---- disorderly; 167 ---- obstructive; 170 ---- inferior to Balfour; 183 ---- and the _Daily News_, 189-95 ---- and Burns; 196 ---- and Gladstone--a contrast; 206 ---- and Mr. Dillon's forgetfulness; 219-26 ---- and Harrington; 223-226 ---- and the fight in the House; 242-6 ----'s beautiful elocution; 243-4Chambers, a contrast between the two; 271Chaplin, Henry; 261Charwomen and ratcatchers; 212-3Churchill, Lord Randolph, ; 58, 110, 132, 161, 167, 247 ---- his genius and fall; 20 ---- improving; 46 ---- and Balfour deadly foes; 72-3 ---- and Gladstone; 169-70Clanricarde, Lord; 155-7 ---- entry of a ghost; 157-8Claque in Parliament, The; 54Clothes; 201-4Cobbe, Mr. ; 210Cochrane left limp; 78Collings, a "rodent, " Jesse; 27Comic relief; 18Condon and the fight, Tom; 249Consolations of old age, the; 192-3Conservative opportunity, A; 188-9Conybeare and the Speaker, Mr. ; 226-7Courtney, L. H. ; 13, 185, 263 ----'s H's; 22Cranborne's impudence, Lord; 68, 176 ---- interruption; 129-30Crean in the Fight, Mr. ; 249Criminal combination, a; 65-6Cunningham Graham (see Graham, Cunningham). Cyclone, the bursting of the; 249

_Daily News_ and Chamberlain, the; 189-95Dalziel, Mr. ; 236, 258Davenport, Mr. Bromley; 67Davitt, Michael--a portrait; 124Deeper and deeper; 176-7Defeat, a Government; 252-3Demos and dinner; 209-10Devonshire, funereal; 273-4De Worms, Baron; 90Dilke, Sir Charles; 16, 99-100, 252-56 ---- and Egypt; 158-9Dillon and Chamberlain, Mr. ; 218-26, 264Disappointed office seekers; 52Disestablishment; 200-1Disraeli--an oriental juggler; 56 ---- A recollection of; 69 ---- Coningsby; 263Division, a tight; 179-80Divisions; 48, 110, 144-5, 150, 162, 169, 177, 179-80, 187-8, 236-7, 240-1, 253, 268, 282Divorce, Irish objections to; 199-200Duty of Liberals, the plain; 257-8Dynamitards, release of; 29

Egypt; 158-61Eirenicon, a great; 160-1Ellis, Tom; 144Employers' liability; 42-3, 150-1Epoch of brutality, the; 78

Fall of the flag, the; 234False alarm, a; 185-6Farmer, pity the poor (see Agriculture)Fateful moment, the; 218Fergusson, Sir James; 252Field unsteady, the; 236Fight in the House, the; 242-53First fence, the; 164-5, 169Fisher & the fight, Hayes; 251-2Forster, Arnold; 149 ---- and Sexton; 227-8Foster, Sir Walter; 177Fowler, H. H. ; 41-2Freemasonry and Mr. Gladstone; 210-12

Gibbs, A. G. H. ; 176 ---- and the fight, Vicary; 246-7, 250Gladstone, Mrs. ; 35 ---- and her husband; 176Gladstone, William Ewart; 51, 60, 78-86, 102-4, 110-6, 144, 178, 180-6, 188-9, 191-5, 200-1, 205, 214-5, 228, 231-3, 237 ---- in 1880; 13 ----'s entrance and appearance; 18-9, 32-4 ---- on the Address; 18-20 ---- and Mr. Collings; 27 ---- and his secretaries; 28 ----'s speech on Home Rule; 32-6 ----'s great peroration; 35-6 ----'s Olympian wrath; 47 ---- indefatigable; 80-1 ---- the survival; 82-3 ---- dreams; 84-5 ---- and the Vote of Censure; 106-8 ---- An episode; 108-9 ---- and Chamberlain; 118-9, 143-4, 172-3 ---- and Parnell; 120-1 ---- a great speech; 141-4 ---- and the bullet; 154-5 ---- and Egypt; 159-61 ---- and the miners; 163 ---- and Churchill; 169-70 ---- his greatest speech; 169-70 ---- and Lord Wolmer; 180-1 ---- and Bryce; 181-2 ----'s hearing; 182-3 ---- and Balfour; 195-6 ----'s rejuvenescence; 202-3 ----'s dress; 202-3 ---- the Grand Old Philosopher; 205-6 ---- and Chamberlain, a contrast; 206 ---- and Freemasonry; 210-2 ---- a splendid gambler; 233-4 ---- to the rescue; 238-40 ---- and the fight; 252 ---- and his tactics; 256-7 ---- and the guillotine; 257 ---- a mighty speech; 260-3Gorst, Sir John; 25-6, 90-1 ---- and Mr. Balfour's face; 26 ---- Tory distrust of; 46Goschen, J. H. ; 55, 241, 267 ---- to the rescue; 61 ---- attacks the Chairman; 65 ---- a good speech; 131-2 ---- playful; 151-2Government and private Members, the; 153Graham, Cunningham; 25Great night, A; 35Grey, Sir Edward; 23-4 ---- a coming man; 255-6Griffiths, Ellis; 45Guillotine, but not yet, the; 197

Haldane, Q. C. , R. B. ; 23Halifax and Walsall, Liberal enthusiasm; 29Harcourt, Sir William; 15, 74, 192, 233, 237 ---- beams pleasantly; 29 ---- and the Budget; 146-7 ---- as an Early Christian; 152-3Hardie, Keir- (see Keir-Hardie)Harland, Sir E. ; 254Harrington and Chamberlain, Mr. ; 223-6Hayes-Fisher and the fight; 251-2Healy and the fight, Mr. ; 249Herod--Judas!; 242-6Hibbert, Sir John; 252Hicks-Beach, Sir Michael; 43Hissing in the gallery; 244Home Rule; 31-41, 58-64, 111-44, 178-206, 227-52, 260-8 ---- and Gladstone (see Gladstone and Home Rule) ---- in Committee; 164-76 ---- in the Lords; 269-82Hull; 162-3Hunter, Dr. ; 51, 57

Incidents; 21-2, 193-4Incident, the Sexton; 198Interruption, a vulgar and caddish; 126 ---- another unmannerly; 129-30 ---- My remarks on; 193-4Ireland in danger; 59 ----'s Charter through; 260-8Irony of seats, the; 9Irish objections to Divorce; 199-200

Jackson and Gladstone; 108-9James, Sir Henry; 13, 48, 141, 155Jealousies and great questions, small; 47-50Jesse Collings (see Collings, Jesse)Johnston of Ballykilbeg; 10-1, 25, 137-8Jones, Atherley; 241Judas!; 242-7

Keeping the seats; 247Keir-Hardie; 24-5Kenyon convulses the House; 47-8

Labouchere, Henry; 15, 97, 99, 236, 252 ----'s pronunciation; 22-3 ---- and Biggar; 98-9Lambert, G. ; 17Liberals, the plain duty of; 257-8Lion lashes out, the; 79Lockwood, Frank; 163Logan and the fight; 247-9, 251-2Lords, Home Rule in the; 269-82Lowther, James; 55-7, 68-71, 77, 81, 85-6, 89-90 ---- What a cruel face; 55 ---- and Burns; 65 ---- flouts Balfour; 80Lubbock, Sir John; 199

Macartney, W. G. E. ; 170, 199-200Marjoribanks, E. P. C. ; 58, 62McCarthy, Justin; 29, 122, 264McCorquodale & Co. ; 252-3McGregor, Dr. ; 197McNeill, Swift; 176-240Mellor, J. W. ; 65-6, 166, 197, 236-8, 246 ---- and Mr. Sexton; 238-40Memories; 9Milman, the interfering; 240Miners, triumph of the; 161-2Ministry, the new; 15Mitchelstown, and Mr. Dillon; 219-23Morley, Arnold; 254Morley, John; 15, 64, 75, 185, 211, 218, 253, 267-8 ---- and Chamberlain; 134-5 ----'s tweed suit; 203-4Morton, A. C. ; 59, 259Malcontents, powerful; 52Morton, E. J. C. ; 24Mundella, A. J. ; 43, 90-1, 163My apology; 250-1My remarks on interruption; 193-4

Narrow shave, a; 187-8Nepotism in the army; 258-9New ministry, the; 15Ninth Clause, the; 230-7Nolan, Colonel; 268

O'Brien, William; 12, 126 ---- and the fight; 249Obstruction, naked and unashamed; 29 ---- sober and subdued; 40-1 ---- organized for; 53 ---- artists in; 55 ---- rampant; 64 ---- flagrant; 76 ---- Tory; 144-50Old age, the consolations of; 192-3Opening of Parliament; 9 ---- of the row; 246-7Opposition in excellent form, the; 17Outburst, the; 175-6

Parliamentary Wednesdays; 44-5Parnell twelve years ago; 31-2 ---- a memory of; 105-6 ---- and Chamberlain; 119-20 ---- and Gladstone; 120-1Pas de Deux, a brilliant; 204-5Peers impressed, even the; 279-80Philipps, J. W. ; 16Plain duty of the Liberals, the; 257-8Potter and Mr. Chamberlain, T. B. ; 21-2Powerful malcontents; 52Private Members and the Government; 153

Railway rates; 51 ---- Servants' Bill; 153Redmond. J. E. ; 29, 230-1, 263 ---- and Home Rule; 38-9Reduced majorities; 229-30Reed us an alarmist, Sir E. J. ; 255-6Registration Bill, the; 41Release of the dynamitards; 29Reminiscence of 1885, a; 267-8Rendel, Stuart; 41Renewal of the fight; 178Rentoul, Dr. ; 11Ribblesdale, Lord; 274Rigby, Sir John; 127Ripon, the Bishop of; 282Robertson, E. ; 260Rollit, the modern Tory, Sir Albert; 41Roscoe, Sir Henry; 193Rosebery's great triumph, Lord; 276-80Russell, Sir Charles; 203Russell, T. W. ; 25, 45, 64, 89, 91-2, 176 ---- and the Second Chamber; 169

Salaried Members; 51Salisbury's signal failure, Lord; 280-2Saunderson, Colonel; 12 ---- & the fight; 248-9Saunders, Mr. ; 268Scene, a strange; 174-6 ---- A wild; 210-12 ---- A brilliant; 269"Scenes, "; 47-8, 65-6, 129-30, 166-9, 176, 227-8, 237-40, 242-53 ---- Pathetic; 182-3Selborne, Lord; 276Seton-Karr; 53 ---- demands admission; 10Sexton, Thomas; 65, 136, 147-8, 237 ---- and Home Rule; 37 ---- and the bullet in Downing Street; 153-4 ---- Intervenes; 189 ---- incident, the; 198 ---- and Arnold Forster; 227-8 ---- makes the running; 234-5 ---- takes the lead; 235-6 ---- defies the Chair; 238-40Shave, a narrow; 187-8Shaw, Mr. ; 236Shout of battle, the; 214-5Shuttleworth, Sir O. K. ; 254Silence of the Tories, cowed; 262 ---- of the Irishry, Stony; 165-6Situation, an awkward; 159Slow progress; 195-6Small jealousies and great questions; 49-50Speaker snubs Brookfield, the; 126 ---- and Lord Cranborne, the; 130 ---- and Mr. Conybeare, the; 226-7 ---- and the fight, the; 249-50Speech from the throne, the; 16-7Spencer's serene courage, Earl; 271-3Squabble, a; 237-40Stansfeld, Mr. ; 117-8Storey, S. ; 61 ----'s fateful speech; 68-9Storm, a coming; 58Strange bedfellows; 10Stuart Rendel; 46Suspensory Bill for Wales, the; 45-8

Tanner, Dr. ; 11 ----'s waistcoat, Dr. ; 11Tea on the Terrace; 207-9Temple, Sir Richard; 179_Times_ out-manoeuvred, the; 53 ---- organized for obstruction, the; 53 ---- Cowed silence of the; 262To thy orisons; 213-4Tory Leader, no; 58Tragedy of politics, the; 101Tramp, tramp, tramp; 241Treasury Bench looks awkward, the; 184-5Trevelyan, Sir George; 122-3Triumph, a historic; 160 ---- for Mr. Burns, a; 259-60 ---- of the tweed coat, the; 201-40

Uganda; 21-4, 96-101Ugand_er_; 22-3Ugly moment, an; 184-5

Vaccinationists, the Anti-; 177Vincent and fair trade, Sir H. ; 25, 258Visit to the Lords, a; 155Vote of Censure, the; 104-10Vulgar and caddish interruption, a; 126

Wales in a rage; 45-8Wallace, Mr. ; 268 ---- Wit, wearisome; 266Walsall and Halifax; 29Watchers for the dawn; 10Welsh Suspensory Bill, the; 45-8"Who said 'Rats'?"; 27Wilson, J. H. ; 162Wistful Whip, the; 213Wolmer, Lord; 180-1Woods, Sam; 16Wyndham, George; 26

Young Man and the Old, the; 167-8

*** Transcriber's notes, corrections ***

p28 tyranny : was "tryanny"p59 ofttimes : was "oft-times"p87 Brummagem : was "Brummagen"p95 satisfactory : was "satifactory"p98 must : was "most"p108 spellbound : was "spell-bound"p128 cheers--he : was "cheer--she"p150 unusually : was "unusally"p191 airily : was "arily"p221 eyeglass : was "eye-glass"p226 spellbound : was "spell-bound"p250 shamefaced : was "shame-faced"

(see HTML version for pagenumbers)*** End Transcriber's notes ***