The old story came back to our minds on July 13th of the historic scene

at Tyburn when all the traitors were hanged in succession. When the

first head was held up there was an awful shudder; the shudder was less

vivid when the second head was held up; and when the executioner

accidentally dropped the third there was a loud and mocking shout of

"Butter-fingers." So it was in the House that night until the dinner

hour came; but as ten o'clock approached, the House filled and there was

a rise in the excitement. The scene, however, bore no comparison to the

frenzied excitement of the preceding Thursday--it was evident we were

going to have an anti-climax, and the whole arrangement of the

Opposition broke down in an important and essential point. On the

previous occasion Mr. Balfour, by preconcerted plan, was speaking at the

moment when the guillotine fell--with the idea, of course, of bringing

into greater relief the wickedness of the Government. Mr. Goschen was

marked out to perform the same task this Thursday, but who should get up

but Atherley Jones. The delighted Liberals cheered him to the echo. Mr.

Goschen had to sit down, and so the whole dénouement collapsed, and the

curtain fell not on the lofty and eminent form of a former Chancellor of

the Exchequer, but on the less imposing figure of the disgruntled

Liberal, who is always anxious to strike his party a blow.

Then comes the division. There is some excitement, though we know we

have won. And then we cheer, as we hear that we have won by 27! Clause 9

is now put as a whole. Our majority rises to 29--we cheer even more

loudly.

[Sidenote: Tramp, Tramp, Tramp.]

We go through the lobbies in eight more successive divisions. It is the

dreariest 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--and

again--and again. We stand at 85 majority in nearly every division. But

we don't cheer, for it is too monotonous; and as for the poor

Tories--where be the wild shouts of "Gag, gag!" with which they rent the

general air--their hoarse cries of "Shame, shame"--their open and foul

taunts in the face of the G.O.M.? Silent--sombre--dogged--we go through

the 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 the

proceedings of that historic and dreadful Thursday night. I have already

published elsewhere an account of my experiences; and within my limits

here I must somewhat curtail the story. But it is well to correct some

of the many errors which have found their way into the press. In the

slight reaction which has followed the first wild outburst, it is now

seen that there were certain exaggerations in the accounts. For

instance, though there was an exchange of blows, altogether not more

than five people were concerned in this most odious part of the whole

transaction.

[Sidenote: Herod--Judas.]

The row began in a curious kind of way; and, indeed, to properly

understand the events of the night, it is necessary to make a perfectly

complete separation between two distinct periods. The fall of the

guillotine is always certain to be accompanied by a scene of some

excitement and violence. The violence has been diminishing steadily, as

the different compartments have succeeded each other; and though there

were some ugly rumours, the general expectation was that things would

not be so very bad. And, indeed, without any desire to make party or

personal capital, I may state that undoubtedly they would not have been

so bad if Mr. Chamberlain had not intervened at the last moment. Opinion

is unanimous that up to the time he spoke the feeling in the House was,

though boisterous, rather good humoured. There was a conflict of

opinion, there were some shouts, there was that general din in the air

which always marks the inspiration of a momentous event, but there was

no ill-temper. In a few moments Mr. Chamberlain had, to a certain

extent, changed this; but even as to the period when he was speaking, I

feel bound to correct the general impression and to say that my own

opinion was that the general spirit was one of frolicksome enjoyment

rather than of the seriousness of real passion. Mr. Chamberlain himself,

to do him justice--though he had elaborated a series of the most

taunting observations, though sentence after sentence was intended to be

an assault and a barbed taunt--Mr. Chamberlain, I say, seemed himself to

regard the whole affair rather from a comic than a tragic point of view.

Under the bitterness of his language, the tone was not that of

seriousness--and, indeed, it is very hard for any man to be perfectly

serious when he knows that he is speaking for a certain number of

allotted minutes, and instead of addressing himself to the particular

question before the House, he has to make something in the shape of a

last dying speech and declaration. The speech, however, was admirable in

form, and still more admirable in delivery; the cold, clear voice

penetrated to every ear, and some of the sentences were uttered with

that deep, though carefully subdued swell which adds intense force by

its 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 say

that if a pupil required a lesson in the highest art of delivery, he

could do nothing better than listen to Mr. Chamberlain's delivery of

this bitter little speech of his; and, above all, that he could nowhere

and in nowise better learn the lesson of the extraordinary increase

there is in the force of a speech by careful self-suppression on the

part 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 be

slatternly, his judgment to be rash, his temper to be dictatorial and

uncertain, but as a debater he stands, in readiness, alertness, and

quickness in taking and utilising a point, supreme over anybody in the

House of Commons, with the one exception of Mr. Gladstone. Thus when one

or two Liberals made somewhat foolish interruptions on July 27th he

turned upon them and exploited their interruption with an art that was

almost dazzling in its perfection. For instance, when he denounced the

Liberals for accepting some clause as the best that could be proposed by

man, some Liberals cried out, "Under the circumstances." "Under the

circumstances," said Mr. Chamberlain, with that strange, eloquent, deep

swell in his voice, which adds so much to its effectiveness, and then he

took the phrase, repeated it, and reiterated it, and turned it upside

down, until even his bitterest enemy could not help enjoying the

perfection of the skill with which he played upon it.

[Sidenote: Joe smiles.]

Finally he came to the passage in which he drew an elaborate comparison

between Mr. Gladstone and Herod. I had no doubt at the time, and my

impression has since been corroborated by words reported to have been

used by Mr. Chamberlain himself--that he used the word "Herod" in a

moment of happy and almost impish inspiration with a view to provoking

the retort which was so obvious. There was a self-conscious smile on his

face when he uttered the words, and he seemed to be quite prepared, and

almost delighted by the retort which followed so promptly. Furthermore,

when several Tories rose to denounce the interruption he beckoned to

them with his hand; there was a gratified smile on his face; and his

whole air suggested that he was so delighted with the success of his

little manoeuvre that he thought it a pity anybody should spoil it; and

especially as the result was to create such a din as to prevent him from

finishing his final sentence. And he wanted very badly to finish that

sentence; for over and over again, with an obstinacy that suggested the

delighted author, he sought to get the sentence out; and no doubt he was

very disappointed that the guillotine finally fell upon him with that

sentence still unuttered. And there is one other point about this moment

which I see has been completely lost. It is supposed that I and the

others who shouted "Judas, Judas," did so in pure provocation--with

deliberate intent to apply the word to Mr. Chamberlain personally and

with fierce political and personal passion. That was not my impression

of 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 he

meant it to be taken; that is to say, I did not regard his speech as in

the least serious; and his allusion to Mr. Gladstone as "Herod" appeared

to me a self-conscious joke, and not, as some earnest Liberals seemed to

think, a gross, foul, and deliberate insult. Indeed, I believed--and

subsequent events have confirmed that view--that Joe was thinking a good

deal more of himself as the centre of a dramatic and historic scene than

of wounding Mr. Gladstone. And, then, the use of the word "Judas" must

be taken with the context. Mr. Chamberlain was talking of the "days of

Herod," and when I called out "Judas," what I really meant was why not

select Judas, and not Herod, who was his contemporary, if you will refer

to this particular epoch of human history. I say all these things, not

by way of extenuation; for really I regard the incident as closed; not

by way of defending myself from rancour, for I felt none; but with a

view to preventing an entirely incorrect view and impression of an

historical evening from being stereotyped.

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

And I can call a very potent and trustworthy witness as to this being

the proper view of the incident; for I understand that, almost

immediately after the scene, a good-natured Liberal said to Mr.

Chamberlain that he must confess that the use of the word "Herod" was

calculated 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 surprised

nor annoyed by the retort, but had rather invited it. I lost sight of

Joe for a good time after this--there were other things which had to be

looked 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 almost

beatific happiness--the happiness of an artist who saw slowly unfolding

the drama to which he had given the impetus, and which he had fashioned

out 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 the

subsequent row--except in the most indirect and remote way. Mr. Vicary

Gibbs seemed possessed by the idea that he should call the attention of

the Chairman to the use of the word "Judas"; and he singled me

out--although, of course, he knew that I was only one of many who had

used the word. I don't complain of this--I merely state a fact--a fact

which, laughingly, was admitted later in the evening; for here I may say

in passing that such is the extraordinary volatility and such the real

good-nature of the House of Commons, this terrible evening ended up in

the exchange of hearty and friendly jokes between some of the fiercest

combatants 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 first

time after the whole row was over; indeed, nobody could hear anything in

the din that was almost deafening. Mr. Mellor made several attempts to

catch Mr. Gibbs's statement; and only when, after straining his ears to

the utmost, he failed to catch one single word, did Mr. Mellor resolve

to take no notice of what Mr. Gibbs was trying to say. This seemed to

drive 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 the

Front Opposition Bench to renew his attempts to make his point of order.

All this time his passion had been rising higher and higher--until, in

the end, he was almost a painful sight to witness. His own friends were

foremost in trying to bring him back to composure; and Lord Randolph

Churchill expressed, with the fine, full-flavoured plainness of ancient

speech, his opinion of the conduct of his friends.

[Sidenote: Keeping the seats.]

This plain-spoken opinion of Lord Randolph Churchill was induced by the

fact that Mr. Gibbs and his friends had now resolved on a desperate step

to secure attention to his complaint. This was no other than refusing to

leave the House, and take part in the division. It is more than twelve

years since this extreme, violent, and almost revolutionary step was

adopted before. On the dreadful night--how well I remember it!--when the

news came that Michael Davitt had been sent back to penal servitude, the

information sent a thrill of such horror and almost despair amongst the

Irish Benches, that some method of manifesting their feelings became

inevitable. By a series of circumstances, into which I need not now go,

the manifestation took the shape of refusing to go into the division

lobby, and retaining our seats. We were all suspended in turn, and

removed from the House by the Serjeant-at-Arms.

[Sidenote: Logan.]

Meantime, the unexpected and extraordinary delay in taking the division

had brought back some members from the division lobbies; and some had

actually recorded their votes, and were returning in the ordinary course

to their seats. Among these was Mr. Logan. Mr. Logan peered somewhat

curiously at the angry faces and the shouting figures on the Tory

Benches, and approached them with the view of finding out what it was

all about. His air, somehow or other, suggested--quite wrongly, as it

turned out--to the Tories that he was meditating an assault upon some of

them: and there rose angry cries from them of "Bar! Bar!" This, in

Parliamentary language, means that the member is violating the rule

against any member standing on the floor of the House, except in the

narrow and short interspace which lies between the entrance door and the

bar--a very small bit of free territory. Logan, in his turn, was

exasperated by these remarks, and used some retort. Then there were

renewed 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 and

himself. And Mr. Logan thereupon said he would put himself in order, and

sat down on the Front Opposition Bench. In doing so, he certainly did

put himself in order, for a member can take his seat where he likes

during the progress of a division. But this step is what led to the

violent and unprecedented scene which followed. For Mr. Hayes Fisher

immediately caught hold of Mr. Logan by the collar, Ashmead Bartlett, I

understand, 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--it

was partly the determination to rush to the assistance of a friend--that

led to the moving of the Irishmen from their own seats to the benches

above the gangway, which are occupied by their political opponents. In

making this move they had no intention whatsoever, I believe, of

striking or even hustling anybody, but the result of it was that Colonel

Saunderson was violently pushed and his hat knocked off. I really

believe that the person next him, who gave him the final push, must have

been one of his own friends; but angry, excited, and hot-tempered, he

jumped to his feet. Mr. Austin, an Irish member, was at that moment

standing in the gangway, as innocent of offence as anybody in the House,

and he it was who received the blow from Colonel Saunderson's clenched

fist. Mr. Austin fell, and immediately Mr. Crean rushed forward, and in

quick succession gave Colonel Saunderson two hard and resounding

blows--one of which drew blood.

[Sidenote: The bursting of the cyclone.]

Then the cyclone burst. When the sound of blows was heard; when Colonel

Saunderson was seen to be in grips with another member,

anger--shame--horror, took possession of everybody; some men lost their

heads, determined to have their share in the fray, and for a brief

second or two a solid cohort on either side--the Tories on one side, the

Irish on the other--stared and glared at each other, with pallid,

passion-rent, and, at the same time, horror-stricken faces--ready to

descend into the abyss, and yet standing in the full consciousness of

horror at its brink. William O'Brien, John Burns, Mr. Bowles, Mr. Healy,

Tom Condon, a stalwart and brave Tipperary man ready for peace, ready

for war, and several others--myself included--rushed to separate and

remonstrate, with the result that the scene came to an end in a space

which was extraordinarily short, considering the circumstances, but

terribly long to those who lived through its horror. Really only three

people were in that scrimmage--Mr. Austin, Colonel Saunderson and Mr.

Crean. There was, I believe, some hustling, but of even that I saw

little. Whether it was at this moment, or when Mr. Hayes Fisher laid

hands 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. And

then, thinking once more that it was all over, we went into the division

lobbies 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 affair

was over and done with; that the incident had been submerged under the

row; and all I expected we had now to do was to trudge drearily and

wearily through the lobbies in the long series of divisions which would

precede the final passage of the Bill through Committee. It was only

the wild cheering which announced the advent of the Speaker that brought

me back to the House, and gave me some idea of what had gone on. If you

want to understand why France welcomed Napoleon after the Terror, you

had only to be in the House at that moment, and understand the sense of

relief, joy, and confidence which came over it when the presence of the

Speaker brought it to the sense that at last the reign of Anarchy was

over, and order was in the hands of one who could maintain it against

all men, and against the whole House if needs be. And then, to my

astonishment, Mr. Gibbs complained of my use of the term "Judas" to Mr.

Chamberlain. As I have said, all this had passed from everybody's

memory, it really had nothing to do with the awful scene which had just

been enacted, and, in fact, it was like some sudden return to ancient

and forgotten history. Moreover, it had the disadvantage of conveying an

entirely wrong impression of what had really taken place; it shifted

back the attention to what was after all more or less playfulness, or at

the worst, mere verbal disorder, from the odious, brutal resort to

physical violence which had just taken place. Moreover, it put a wrong

complexion on even the verbal disorder, for it put the initiative with

me instead of with Mr. Chamberlain, and, finally, it entirely removed

from view the gross and scandalous breach of order which Mr. Gibbs and

his friends had committed by retaining their seats and refusing to leave

the House.

[Sidenote: My apology.]

But the great consideration with the Speaker--and, indeed, with

everybody else who had the dignity and honour of the House of Commons at

heart--was to shove underground as soon, as promptly, as roughly as

possible, the corpse of its dignity and reputation; and without making

any attempt to explain my conduct--to shift on the responsibility to

where it really lay--to draw attention, except by a mere sentence, to

that scene of physical violence--I made my apology. I cannot claim that

it was all that I ought to have said; several people have blamed me for

not 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 idea

that recrimination would only prolong an odious, detestable, and

degrading scene--that I could not haggle about terms; and was determined

to 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, during

the following week. But the allusions were few--very brief, and very

shamefaced. Indeed, the House of Commons was so heartily ashamed of

itself that it had not the strength nor the courage to face its own

ill-doing, and wanted to get away from the horrid thing as soon as it

possibly could. Yet there was a strong sense that an incident so

unprecedented--so disgraceful, so utterly lowering to the dignity of a

great, august and historic assembly--should not, and could not be

allowed to pass as though nothing had occurred. It was also pretty

clear, amid so many conflicting statements, that the responsibility for

the passing over the gulf between mere verbal encounter and physical

violence rested with Mr. Hayes Fisher, and that, therefore, it was on

him any punishment should be visited which the House of Commons deemed

necessary for the protection of its outraged dignity. However, as I have

said, the House of Commons was so heartily ashamed of itself, and

desired to get its shame out of sight and out of memory as soon as

possible.

[Footnote: A lame apology.]

But Mr. Hayes Fisher did not act particularly well. It was he who had

taken Mr. Logan by the collar, and therefore, it was he who had struck

the first blow. There was some execrable haggling as to whether Mr.

Hayes Fisher or Mr. Logan should make the first apology--execrable, I

say, because a gentleman never ought to haggle over an apology if he

feels that he has been in the wrong, and because nobody could deny that

Mr. Fisher had been the original wrongdoer. The result was that when

Mr. Gladstone came into the House on July 31st, and was asked questions

about the business, the Old Man, for once, found himself in a

difficulty. He had been told that apologies were going to be made; but

Mr. Fisher made no sign, and, indeed, it looked very much as if he would

do nothing at all. Labby intervened at this psychological moment by

reading that extract from the account in the _Pall Mall Gazette_ which

fixed Mr. Fisher's responsibility under his own hand, and it was seen

that something would have to be done. Then--and not till then--did Mr.

Fisher speak and make his apology. Mr. Logan--who had very properly

refused to take the initiative--then made a very brief but a very

handsome explanation of what he had done, and after a few lofty words

from Mr. Gladstone and the Speaker the matter was allowed to drop into

the 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 debate

on a Labour question. It had reference to the dismissal by the firm of

the McCorquodales of several trade unionists. Suffice it to say, that

the chief opposition to the claims of Labour came from Sir James

Fergusson, whose remarks were ardently cheered by the Tories; and that

Sir John Hibbert was finally pressed by Sir Charles Dilke into a promise

which binds the Government practically to refuse contracts in future to

any firm which acts like the McCorquodales. It was a great victory for

Labour--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 less

than a defeat of the Government. It arose on a small local Irish Bill.

Blackrock is a small seaside place just outside Dublin. The Tories, who

occupy a good many of the villas, have kept the whole government of the

place in their hands by maintaining a high property qualification for

votes for the Town Commissioners. On this day they brought forward a

Bill; but it was opposed until they had mended their ways with regard to

the government of the town. Mr. Morley, acting on the official view,

urged that the Bill might be passed and this other question dealt with

separately, but the Irish refused to be pacified, they went to a

division, and with the aid of the Radicals they managed to defeat the

Government 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, and

monotonously. It was, perhaps, the presence of the Speaker--it was,

perhaps, the painful recollection of the scene of violence on a previous

occasion--it was, perhaps, the universal exhaustion of the House;

whatever the cause, the excitement on the night of August 25th was

infinitely below what anybody would have expected. Throughout the whole

evening there was exactly the same spectacle as on previous

evenings--that is to say, there was the same old obstructive group

discussing exactly the same topics; raising the same objections; going

into the same subtleties as if the Bill were just in its first stage;

and there was the same dreary and universal emptiness of the House

generally. At last, as eleven o'clock approached, the Unionists prepared

themselves for a dramatic effort. Mr. Chamberlain prepared an

educational bombshell, but Mr. Healy hoisted the engineer with his own

petard.

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 the

following Wednesday. Nearly every one of the most prominent debaters had

by this time cleared out. The Irish Benches, however, remained full, and

from them came a triumphant cheer as, at a quarter to twelve, the motion

was carried, and the second stage of the great measure of Irish

emancipation was completed.

CHAPTER XVIII.

IRELAND'S CHARTER THROUGH.

[Sidenote: A dull beginning.]

Insipidity, weariness, and dulness marked the commencement of the

concluding week of the Home Rule Bill in the House. There was no private

business on the Monday, and accordingly for nearly a quarter of an

hour--it seemed infinitely longer to the little group of members

present--the House sat in sedate and solemn silence. Then commenced

questions, and in a moment half-a-dozen members were buzzing with

gnat-like pertinacity about the impassive figure of the

Postmaster-General. Mr. Arnold Morley was continually on his legs. For

instance, Mr. Bousfield wanted to know what rule there was which forbade

Post Office employés to approach the House of Commons directly, or to

sign a petition to the House with reference to any grievance, after

having unsuccessfully petitioned the Postmaster-General. Mr. Morley

replied laconically, "There is no such rule." Then several of the Tory

members attempted to corner Sir U.K. Shuttleworth about the quantity of

coals consumed in the "Majestic" while going at full speed. Sir Edward

Harland was cautious, and Mr. Gibson Bowles, whose rising was the signal

for 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 that

its attendance is usually in inverse line of proportion to the

importance of the subject which it is discussing. On August 28th the

House was engaged in debating the question which above all others ought

to 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 inarticulate

representatives of the services, and to the dullest and smallest men in

the whole assembly. It is obviously inconvenient--perhaps it is even

perilous--that interests so grave and so gigantic should fall for their

guardianship into hands so incompetent and so petty. It may be an

inevitable accompaniment of our Parliamentary system that the naval

debates should be so conducted; if so, one must put it down as one of

the evils which must be taken as part of the price we pay for the

excellences of a representative system.

[Sidenote: Sir Edward Reed as an alarmist.]

I may dismiss the debate on the Navy with one or two further

observations. Sir Edward Reed, though he knows a good deal about

ships--for he has had something to do with them all his life--is not an

authority whom one can implicitly accept. He is not a politician who has

prospered according to what he believes and what are doubtless his

deserts, for he is a very clever man, and politicians who are a little

disappointed have a certain tendency to ultra-censoriousness, which

damages the effectiveness and prejudices the authority of their

criticisms. Thus, Sir Edward has been always more or less of a pessimist

with regard to the doings of other men. On August 28th he spoke in

decidedly alarmist terms of the lessons which should be taught to us by

the loss of the "Victoria." Speaking with the modesty of a mere layman

on the subject, I should have been inclined to think that the chief

moral to be drawn from that terrible and tragic disaster was the

terribly important part which the mere personality of the individual in

command still plays in deciding the fate of hundreds of lives; that, in

short, the personal equation--as it has come to be called--- is still

the supreme and decisive factor in all naval enterprises. But there may

be some grounds for the alarmist views of Sir Edward Reed, and I see no

reason why his views should not receive prompt, candid, and independent

investigation. The officials may oppose such an investigation; but

officials are always optimists, and the cold draught of outside

criticism 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 in

our hands for dealing with such an emergency as that by which we were at

the moment confronted. It was Lord Salisbury who made the most excellent

suggestion that when a Bill had gone through all its stages in one

Session of Parliament it should not be necessary to repeat the process

in the next, but that a mere resolution should bring the Bill once again

into 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 one

of his well-known peculiarities not to arrive at the solution of a

tactical difficulty one moment too soon; and this is a rule which,

generally speaking, acts extremely well. I dare say Sir Charles Dilke

did not expect any other answer; and nobody in the House was surprised

that the Old Man answered as he did. But all the same, one could read

between the lines, and it was pretty clear that the Old Man was

preparing to face the situation by remedies drastic enough to meet even

so revolutionary a situation.

[Sidenote: A great Parliamentarian.]

Everybody was delighted--that is to say, everybody on the Liberal side

of the House--to see that the great old leader was displaying on this

question the same unerring tactics, the same resources the same

willingness to learn, and the same elasticity of mind as he has

manifested throughout his whole life--or at least throughout all that

part of it which dates from his escape from the shackles of his early

and obscurantist creed. He has never concealed the fact that he departed

from the old rules of the House of Commons with misgiving reluctance,

and even repulsion. It would have been strange, indeed, if he could have

felt otherwise after all his long years of glorious service in that

august assembly. But then, when the time did come for taking the plunge,

he took it boldly and unshrinkingly. It was a delight to watch him

during this Session, and especially when it became necessary to use the

guillotine against the revolutionary and iniquitous attempt to paralyse

the House of Commons by sheer shameless obstruction. The "guillotine"

was a most serious, a most momentous, and even portentous departure from

all precedent, except, of course, the Tory precedent of 1887; but the

Old Man, when the proper time came, proposed the experiment with the

utmost composure--with that splendid command of nerve--that lofty and

dauntless courage--that indifference to attack, which explains his

extending 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 steps

which may be necessary to vindicate the authority of the majority in the

House of Commons, and nobody doubts that such further steps may be

necessary. The real and fundamental question--as I put it over and over

again--is whether the Liberal party and the Liberal majority shall go

before the country at the next election with the charge made good

against them of lack of will, competence, and energy. If once that

charge can be substantiated, I regard the Liberal cause as lost--and

lost for many a year to come. Any Government almost is better than a

Government which cannot govern; and the sentiment is so universal that I

have no doubt the shifting ballast, which decides all elections, would

go with a rush to the Tory side, and would enthrone in the place of

power a strong Tory majority and an almost omnipotent Tory Government.

The Tories know this, and calculate upon it, and will devote all their

energies, therefore to reducing the present House of Commons and the

present Ministry to discredited impotence, contemptible paralysis. Such

a conspiracy must be met in the proper manner. Obstructive debate must

be mercilessly closured; old rules must be abandoned without a sigh, and

give way to others more adapted to the necessity of the time. Above all

things the House of Lords must be flouted, humiliated, and defied. It is

on the spring-tide of popular democratic and anti-aristocratic passion

we 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 of

empty benches. For some time, the only Tory defenders of the

Constitution were the ubiquitous George Christopher Trout Bartley and

the valiant Howard Vincent. Questions showed more inclination than ever

to wander into the purely parochial. Presently Mr. Burnie came along

with an inquiry addressed to the War Minister whether it was correct the

Duke of Connaught had been appointed to the chief command of the army at

Aldershot; and, if so, on what grounds he had been selected for this

important position. Several other vigorous Radicals were on the same

scent. Mr. Campbell-Bannerman said it was quite true the Duke had become

Commander-in-Chief. This was because of his fitness; because he was

practically the senior officer available, and because he had gained

experience in both regimental and staff duties, having filled with great

credit the high office of Commander-in-Chief at Bombay. Herculean Mr.

Allan, of Gateshead, sought for information how many months the Duke of

Connaught was absent from his duties when he commanded at Portsmouth.

Young Mr. Dalziel also came forward, wanting to know whether the Duke

would 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 usual

seat, was anxious for a further explanation of what was meant by the

Duke being practically the senior officer available. He also wanted to

know what experience he had had in real fighting. The reply of the War

Minister was conciliatory. There were, he explained, one or two generals

senior to H.R.H., but who were at present discharging duties from which

it was not desirable they should be removed. The pay would be that of a

Lieutenant-General. Owing to domestic circumstances, the Duke lived out

of Portsmouth, but he was little out of the district he commanded. He

served in the Egyptian campaign, which was the only opportunity he had

had during his career in taking part in active warfare. This did not

satisfy either Mr. Allan or Mr. Morton. The member for Peterboro' wanted

to be precise. How far was H.R.H. away from the real fighting? The War

Minister could only smile and shake his head. Mr. Allan expressed his

dissent, and Mr. Morton, derisively cheered by a handful of Tories,

solemnly begged to give notice that on the Army Estimates he would again

raise the question of this flagrant job.

[Sidenote: A triumph for Mr. Burns.]

The evening was notable for a splendid triumph achieved by that fine

Democrat, John Burns. It arose out of the Navy Estimates. The conditions

of labour in the Government dockyards have long been crying out for

remedy, and Mr. Burns presented the case for the men with a force and

lucidity that carried conviction home to the minds of a crowded House,

among whose members his is one of the most magnetic personalities. The

member for Battersea pointed out that, whilst he strongly approved of

the attitude of the Government in adding £30,000 to the wages of the

men, the real step they should have taken was to ignore the opinion of

the permanent officials, those bugbears of all reformers, past, present,

and to come--pay the trades union rates, and abolish classification

altogether. A very excellent smack at Sir John Gorst, Mr. A.B. Forwood,

and other standbacks on the Opposition side was the remark:--"I would

rather have the rate of wages in dockyards regulated by trades unions

than made the sport of party politicians and put up as a kind of Dutch

auction." What have the Government to fear in this matter? The trade

unions must always have to face competition and trade rivalry, and these

elements alone are more than sufficient to keep down wages. So great was

the impression made by Mr. Burns's speech, that official notice of it

was inevitable, and Mr. E. Robertson was able to make an announcement

which gave, if not absolute satisfaction, at least a measure of it to

the 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 third

stage of the greatest Bill of modern times at an hour so

inauspicious--noon on a Wednesday sitting. Everybody knows that among

all the dead hours of the House of Commons, there is no hour so utterly

dead as that. Indeed, very often such is the disinclination of the

natural man for unreasonable and unseasonable hours--it is very often

extremely difficult for the Whips of the Government to get together the

forty members who are necessary to form the quorum for the starting of

business; and I have known cases where it was close upon two o'clock--if

not even later--before there was a sufficient muster for the beginning

of the day's business. However, Mr. Gladstone calculated correctly on

the magic of his name and the witchery of his oratory; for by a few

minutes past twelve, when he rose to make his speech, the House was

crowded in almost every part, and he had an audience not only

unprecedented in its fulness at such an hour, but also delightfully

stimulating in its general responsiveness and sometimes even its ready

enthusiasm.

[Sidenote: A mighty speech.]

The speech of the Old Man was worthy of the occasion. For some hours

after it had ended nobody had anything to say about anybody or anything

else; it was one of those speeches that create something like rapture;

and that oft-repeated declaration that he had never done anything like

it before--a declaration I have heard too many times to now altogether

accept. The voice was splendid, the diction very fine, the argument

close and well knit, the matter carefully prepared without any selfish

adherence to the letter of a manuscript--a fidelity which always spoils

anything like spontaneity of oratory. And the Old Man was in splendid

physical condition and in the brightest of spirits. Indeed, I was never

more struck with the extraordinary physical perfection which Mr.

Gladstone's frame has maintained after his eighty-three years of full

active and wearing life. The back was straight, the figure erect, the

motions free, unconstrained, easy; the gestures those of a man whose

every joint moved easily in a fresh and vigorous frame. And the face was

wonderfully expressive, now darkened with passionate hatred of wrong,

now bursting into the sunshine of genial and pleasant smiles. And--as is

usual when he is in this mood--he was extraordinarily quick at taking

interruptions; he was, indeed, almost boisterous in his manner, and

seemed to positively invite those interjectional interventions from the

other side, which, in less exuberant moods he is sometimes inclined to

resent. Mr. Chaplin had quoted a portentous passage from Cavour to show

that the great Italian statesman had declared against Home Rule. Mr.

Gladstone was able to cap this with another passage--which, beginning

with a strong indictment of English methods of government in Ireland,

wound up with the declaration that Ireland ought to be treated with the

same justice and generosity as Canada. While the Liberals were still

cheering this thrust, Mr. Chaplin got up to make the remark that Cavour

had said other things quite contradictory of this, whereupon the Old

Man--still with a smile of deadly courtesy--pounced upon Mr. Chaplin

with the remark, "Is it your case, then, that Cavour contradicted

himself?"--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 curtailed

debate, the Old Man had made up his case very thoroughly, and as he read

the damning indictment which showed the wild multitudinousness, the

infinite variety and the prolonged duration of the speeches of the

Opposition, there was plenty of encouraging cheers from the Liberal

side; 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 the

spell which the Old Man had cast over the rest of the House; and, while

disagreeing with him, were still sufficiently wound up to the lofty and

more empyrean heights which the orator reached to feel that there would

be something jarring and even common in a note of dissent. Whatever the

reason, they remained uncommonly silent throughout the whole speech;

and, sometimes, when one or two of the more ebullient members spoke, the

interjectors 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 most

important 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 perfectly

faithful representation--in some cases even a repetition--of what the

Tories had said; but stated baldly, nakedly, in the cold light of early

day, they sounded intensely ridiculous. It was impossible, for instance,

to take seriously the resounding proposition that the Bill "would break

up the Empire"--that under the Bill the loyal minority would incur loss

of life, liberty and property, and so on. As Mr. Gladstone read out

these propositions there was a deadly chill, a disheartened silence, on

the Tory Benches which had its importance, for it showed plainly that,

however ready they were to mouth these things on platforms they felt a

little 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 his

acceptance of the ridiculous litany of prophecy and reprobation which

Mr. 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 of

corrugated wrinkles; then he waved his hand a little to the other side,

and finally congratulated himself on being in the happy position of

being even partially corroborated by gentlemen of opposite opinions,

Whereupon, of course, the whole House laughed, including the very member

whom the Old Man had thus toasted. In short, as will have been seen from

my description, the Old Man was in his very best form, in full command

of himself, of his friends, and even of his enemies.

[Sidenote: A solemn peroration.]

Finally, there came a peroration--lofty, almost inspired--splendidly

delivered, rapturously applauded. It rang out a note of perfect

confidence--of early and complete victory--of righteous trust in a

righteous cause. And the House which had followed the great orator in

rapt attention so long could not tire of cheering this glowing and

inspiring end. For several minutes the cheers were given--and again

given, and again. Meantime, poor Mr. Courtney had been standing--waiting

for silence. To him had been entrusted the task of moving the rejection

of the measure. He was dull, pedantic, and rather embarrassed after this

great effort of Mr. Gladstone, and the House emptied. There was a

certain stir of curiosity as the name of "Mr. Disraeli" was called by

the Speaker; and then the bearer of one of the greatest names of our

times, stood up. His speech was brightish, cleverish, and yet there was

something wanting. Mr. Redmond was critical, cautious, severe on the

financial clauses, but finally pronounced for the Bill. And so we

started 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 it

would have been beyond the power of the most Demosthenic orator to rouse

it to anything like enthusiasm. Several of the speeches throughout the

following evening were of a high order; but still there was no

response--it was speaking from a rock to the noisy, unlistening, and

irresponsive sea. The night of September 1st began with a brief,

graceful, finely-phrased and finely-tempered speech by Mr. Justin

McCarthy, which confirmed Mr. Dillon's frank expression of the Bill as a

final measure of emancipation to the Irish people. The obvious sincerity

of 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 of

the House, and he had an audience silent, attentive, and admiring.

[Sidenote: Joe's parting bolt.]

The contrast between the kindliness, the sincere judgment, and the

kindly disposition of Mr. McCarthy and the somewhat raucous and

malevolent accents of Mr. Chamberlain, was very marked. Not that Mr.

Chamberlain was by any means so nasty as usual; it looked as if he had

been taught by the failure of his last utterance into learning at last

that malevolence in the end defeats itself by its very excess, and he

evidently had resolved to put a very severe restraint upon himself, and

attuned his oratory to a very minor key. But this new tone was just as

unsuccessful as the other, and there is a second unsuccessful and flat

speech 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 in

the course of the previous debates; in short, the speech was a

revelation of the fact, known to those who have watched Mr. Chamberlain

carefully, that the soil is very barren and very thin; and that after a

few oratorical crops it becomes exhausted. Perhaps the failure of the

speech was also largely due to the fact that the Irish and the Liberal

members, taught by previous experiences, resolved to also put restraint

on themselves. They have learned by this time that interruptions do Mr.

Chamberlain a great deal of good; and that his great nimbleness and

readiness never come out so well as when he has suddenly to answer such

an interruption. Addressing benches--blank, silent and irresponsive, he

laboured rather heavily throughout the whole of his address; and there

was a complete absence even from the Tory benches of that loud and

frequent accompaniment of cheers to which Mr. Chamberlain is usually

treated. In short, it was a dull, ineffective speech, mostly listened to

in silence.

[Sidenote: A coming man.]

Sir Edward Grey delivered an admirable reply. In his case--as in that of

Mr. Chamberlain--there was an immense disadvantage of a tired House, and

the audience had thinned somewhat after Mr. Chamberlain had sat down.

But those who remained were fortunate enough to hear one of the most

perfect specimens of House of Commons eloquence that has been heard in

Westminster for many a day. Indeed, there are few men in the House who

have so perfect a command of what I might call the true, genuine, and

even grand style of Parliamentary eloquence. Sir Edward Grey speaks with

a perfectly unbroken, level tone; his language is moderate and reserved,

and he has the great art of using language which implies and suggests

more than it actually says. In short, his eloquence is that of perfect

high-bred conversation, discussing questions with that complete

self-command and composure of the man of the world who disdains to use,

even of the greatest affairs, and of the strongest emotions, language of

passion or exaggeration. Such a style is wonderfully effective in a

business assembly, where men feel, even when they are under the glow of

splendid eloquence, that there is behind the words a thinking,

reflective, and composed mind. The speech gained enormously by the

contrast of its composure--its fine temper, its calm and broad

judgment--from the somewhat pettish, personal, and passionate

utterances of Mr. Chamberlain. This young man will go very far--very far

indeed.

[Sidenote: Wearisome Wallace wit.]

Then there was the interval of the dinner-hour--wound up with a speech

from Mr. Wallace. The iniquity of the abandonment of the In-and-Out

clause of the Bill was again the burden of his theme. He brought to the

subject the same quaint, rich, but somewhat elaborate humour which made

the success of his previous speech; and the Tories were more than

delighted with some telling hits which he gave to Mr. Gladstone for the

change of front. But Mr. Wallace made two mistakes. It is not given to

any man to make a success twice over on the same theme; and he spoke at

much too great a length. In the end he somewhat wearied the House, and

altogether the second speech was not equal to the first, though it had a

great deal of ability in it, and _The Sun_ was obliged next day to

acknowledge with gratitude the great gratuitous advertisement which it

received 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 the

heat, which had set in with quite tropical fervour, became almost

overpowering, and the House, which began by being tired, had become

almost exhausted. It was under these depressing circumstances that the

Leader of the Opposition started on what must have been to him something

of a corvée, and for a considerable time--although the speech was not

wanting in some very telling hits and bright sayings--he laboured very

heavily; 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 speech

which he delivered at Newcastle, during the previous week, placed Mr.

Morley definitely in the very front rank of platform orators. After his

speech of September 1st, he made a distinct and great advance in his

position as a Parliamentary debater. His great defect as a speaker has

been a certain want of nimbleness and readiness. He has infinitely wider

and larger resources than Mr. Chamberlain, who, nevertheless, excels in

the alertness which is often the accompaniment of shallowness. On this

occasion Mr. Morley was rapid, prompt, crushing. As thus: Mr. Balfour

had spoken of the people who denounced Dublin Castle as "third-rate

politicians." "Who is the third-rate politician?" asked Mr. Morley,

looking towards Mr. Chamberlain--everybody knows that he used to

denounce Dublin Castle--and peal on peal of laughter and cheers followed

from the Liberal and Irish Benches. Mr. Morley followed up his advantage

by saying, with a comic air of despair, "It is very awkward to have

coadjutors 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 the

House; there was an immediate rise the temperature; the Liberals and the

Irish were ready to delightedly cheer; the Tories, who always get

restive as they approach the final hour of defeat, grew noisy, rude, and

disorderly. Then Mr. Morley turned to the charges against the Irish

members, and asked the Tories if their own record was so white and pure

that they could afford to throw stones. This brought an allusion to the

Tory-Parnellite alliance of 1885, which always disturbs, distracts, and

even infuriates the Tories. They became restless and noisy, and Mr.

Balfour and Mr. Goschen began to rise and explain. Well would it have

been for Mr. Goschen had he resisted this inclination. Mr. Morley was

alluding to the Newport speech of Lord Salisbury, and Mr. Balfour was

defending it. "Ah, but," said Mr. Morley, "did you not"--meaning Mr.

Goschen--"did you not yourself attack Lord Salisbury for that very

speech?"--a retort that produced a tempest of cheers. There were then

some scornful and contemptuous allusions to Mr. Russell--to his stale

vituperation, and, above all, to his grotesque charge against Mr. Morley

of making himself the tool of clericalism. "There are more kinds of

clericalism than one," said Mr. Morley, alluding to the violent

partisanship of the Presbyterian clergymen of South Tyrone. Finally, the

speech ended in a lofty, splendid, and impressive peroration. When

tracing the progress of the cause for the last seven years, Mr. Morley

spoke with the fine poetic diction in which he stands supreme, of

"starless skies" and a "tragic hour"--meaning the Parnell crisis--and

then he used the words which more than any other thrilled the House. "We

have," he cried, "an indomitable and unfaltering captain," and cheer on

cheer rose, while the Old Man sat, white, silent, with a composed though

rapt look.

There was the bathos of a poor speech from Colonel Nolan, and then the

division. Everybody has the numbers now--34 majority--34 in spite of

Saunders and Bolton, of absent Wallace, and unpaired Mr. Wilson. We

cheer, counter cheer; we rise and wave our hats; and then quickly,

quietly, even with a subdued air, we walk out and leave the halls of

Parliament 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, when

the fight over the Home Rule Bill began, was undeniable. Standing at the

bar, in that small space which is reserved for members of the other

Chamber, and looking out at the view, it was, I thought, one of the most

picturesque and brilliant spectacles on which my eye had ever rested.

The beauty of the House of Commons is great. But it is undoubtedly

inferior in beauty to the House of Lords. In the House of Commons the

roof is a false one, for the original loftiness of the ceiling was found

too great to allow anyone to be properly heard. But in the House of

Lords, where the acoustic properties are still extremely bad, the

anxiety to hear its members has not yet proved great enough to induce

them to make any change in the roof, with the result that the Chamber

gives you an impression of loftiness, spaciousness, and sweep, such as

you do not find in the other. And then the walls at the end obtain

additional splendour from the fine pictures that there stand out and

confront you--pictures full of crowded life, movement, and tragedy. The

Throne, too, with all its gilded splendour, remains, even in its

emptiness, a reminder of that stately and opulent lordship which our

institutions give to a great personage above all parties and all

classes.

[Sidenote: Lovely woman.]

In addition to all this, the House of Lords has made provision for the

appearance of lovely woman, which contrasts most favourably with the

curmudgeon and churlish arrangements of the House of Commons. In the

House of Commons women have to hide themselves, as though they were in a

Mahommedan country, behind a grille--where, invisible, suffocated, and

crowded, they are permitted to see--themselves unseen--the gambollings

of their male companions below. In the House of Lords, on the other

hand, there is a gallery all round the house, in which peeresses and the

relatives of peers are allowed to sit--observed of all men--prettily

dressed, attentive--a beautiful flower-bordering, so to speak, to the

male assemblage below. The variety and brilliancy of colour given by

their fashionable clothes adds a great richness and opulence and

lightness to the scene; in fact, takes away anything like sombreness, in

appearance and aspect at least, from an assembly which otherwise is

calculated to suggest sinister reminiscences of coming trouble and the

approaching darkness of political agitation. The benches, too, have a

richness which is foreign to the House of Commons, as the members of the

popular assembly sit on benches covered with a deep green leather, which

is dark, modest, and unpretentious. There is always something, to my eye

at least, that suggests opulence in the colour crimson, and the benches

of the Upper Chamber are all in crimson leather, and the crimson has all

the freshness which comes from rarity of use. In the House of Commons,

with all its workaday and industrious life, the deep and dark green has

always more or less of a worn and shabby look. In the Upper Chamber the

original splendour of the crimson cloth is undimmed; for most of the

benches remain void and unoccupied for 999 nights of the thousand on

which their lordships meet.

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

Whatever the cause I always associate the House of Lords in my mind with

emptiness and silence, and the gloomy scenes of desertion. And,

therefore, when I see it crowded as it was on this historic Monday

evening, the effect it produces is heightened by the recollection and

the sense of the contrast it presents to its ordinary appearance. The

House of Commons has a certain impressiveness and splendour of air when

it is very full; I always have a certain sense of exaltation by the mere

looking at its crowded benches on these nights when the excitement of

the hour brings everybody to his place. But then the House of Commons is

frequently full, and there is no such sense of unusualness when you see

it thus that you have when you look on the House of Lords with benches

teeming with multitudinous life which you have seen so often empty,

lifeless, and ghostly. Thus splendid was the scene, and yet it gave you

a prevailing and unconquerable impression of gloom and lifelessness. In

the House of Commons, the member addressing the assembly is like the

wind which passes through an Æolian harp. You cannot utter a word which

does not produce its full and immediate response. You say a thing which

has the remotest approach to an absurdity in it, and the whole House

laughs consumedly and immediately. You utter a phrase which excites

party feeling, and at once--quick as lightning falls--comes back the

retort of anger or approval; your way is studded and punctuated with

some response or other, that signifies the readiness and the depth and

amplitude of emotion in one of the most emotional, and noisy, and

responsive assemblies in the world. It is a curious change from all this

to look on all these crowded benches sitting in a silence that is

unbroken 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 a

political foe as well as when he has been a political friend; but I

don't think I ever admired him so much as when he stood up on September

4th to address this strange assembly. Hours he has passed through of

all-pervading and all-surrounding gloom, danger, and assassination; but

I do not suppose his nerve was ever put to a test more trying than when

he confronted those large battalions of uncompromising and irresponsive

foes. There were foes on all sides of him. They filled the many benches

opposite to him; they filled, with equal fervour and multitudinousness,

the benches on his own side. It was remarkable to see the thoroughness

with which the Tories had mustered their forces; but the spectacle of

the Liberal Unionists' Benches was even still more remarkable, for there

was not a seat vacant; they had all come--those renegade and venomous

deserters from the Liberal ranks--to do their utmost against the Liberal

party and their mighty Liberal leader. And what support had Lord Spencer

against all these foes--before him, around him--on all sides of him? On

the benches immediately behind him there was a small band of men--not

forty all told--looking strangely deserted, skeleton-like, even abashed

in all their loneliness and isolation. These were the friends--few but

faithful--amid all the hundreds, who alone had a word of cheer for Lord

Spencer in a long and trying speech he had to address to his

irreconcilable foes. But if there was any tremor in him as he stood up

in surroundings so trying, I was unable to detect it. Indeed, at the

moment he rose, there was something very fine and very impressive in his

figure. He is, as most people know, a man of unusual height; hard

exercise and the ride across country have kept him from having any of

that tendency to _embonpoint_ which destroys in middle age so many a

fine figure. On the contrary, there is not a superfluous ounce of flesh

on that tall, alert figure; it is the figure of a trained athlete rather

than the figure one would associate with a nobleman in the end of a

self-indulgent and ever-eating and over-drinking century. The features,

strong yet gentle, though far from regular, have considerable

distinction, and the flowing red beard makes the face stand out in any

assembly. Carefully but plainly dressed, erect, perfectly composed, and

courteous in every word and look and gesture, Lord Spencer made his plea

for justice to the nation where once his name was the symbol for hatred

and wrong.

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

Lord Spencer is not an orator. Simple, unadorned, straightforward, he

speaks just as he feels; and this lent a singular fascination to a

speech which from other lips might have sounded thin and ineffectual,

for the speech was nothing less than a revelation into the depths of a

nature singularly rich in courage and experience. One cannot help

thinking of all that lay behind those plain and unadorned words in which

Lord Spencer told the story of his conversion from the policy of

coercion to that of self-government. Here was the man who had looked out

one summer evening on the spot where his close friend--his chief

subordinate--was hacked to death; this was the man who had brought to

conviction and then to the narrow square of the execution yard the

members of one of the most powerful and sanguinary of conspiracies; here

was the man who for years had passed through the streets of Dublin and

the towns of Ireland amid the rattle of cavalcade, as necessary for his

protection against popular hate as the troops that protect the person of

the Czar in the streets of Poland. Here was, indeed, a man not of words

but of deeds; one who spoke not mere phrases coined from the imaginings

of the brain, but one who had seen and heard and throbbed; had looked

unappalled into the depths and the abysses of human life, and the

dreadest political experiences; one who had visited the Purgatorio and

conversed with the lost or the tortured souls, and come back from the

pilgrimage with words of hope, faith, and charity. Altogether it was a

fine speech--worthy of the man, worthy of his career, worthy of the

great and historic occasion.

[Sidenote: Funereal Devonshire.]

I wish I could say as much of the speech of the Duke of Devonshire. It

may be that his miserable failure was due to the fact that he is as yet

unaccustomed to the House of Lords, and that the modesty which is

undoubtedly one of his disadvantages as a public speaker has not yet

been overcome; but his speech was a return to the very worst manner of

his earlier days in the House of Commons. I have heard the Duke of

Devonshire in his early manner and in his late; and his early manner was

about as detestable as a man's manner could have been. He had a habit of

sinking his voice as he approached the end of a sentence, so that a

sentence beginning on a high note gradually sank to a moan, and a

murmur, and a gulp. The whole effect was mournful in the extreme, and

gave you a sense of the weariness and the worthlessness of all human

life such as the most eloquent ascetic could never succeed in imparting.

In the House of Lords, the Duke of Devonshire suddenly returned to his

early and bad manner, and delivered a speech which was more like a

funeral oration than a call to arms.

[Sidenote: Lord Ribblesdale.]

Of the remaining speeches I need say little. Lord Brassey, in a few

manly and straightforward words, expressed his entire sympathy with the

principle of the Bill; Lord Cowper gave another very melancholy and

inaudible performance. And then came one of the most remarkable speeches

the House of Lords has heard for some time. From the Treasury Bench

there stood a tall, slight, and rather delicate figure. The face, long,

large-featured, hatchet-shaped, was surmounted with a mass of

curling-hair; altogether, there was a suggestion of what Disraeli looks

like in that picture of him as a youth which contrasts so strangely and

sadly with the figure and the face we all knew in his later days. This

was Lord Ribblesdale. Lord Ribblesdale holds an office in the Royal

Household in the present Administration. Up to a short time ago, he was

unknown in even the teeming ranks of noble littérateurs; but an article

he wrote on a conversation with the late Mr. Parnell gave indications of

a bright and apt pen, a great power of observation, and a shrewd,

impartial mind. On Sept. 4th, he surprised the House by showing also the

possession of very rare and very valuable oratorical powers, His speech

was excellent in diction, was closely and calmly reasoned, and produced

an extraordinary effect, even on the Tory side, which, beginning by a

stony silence, and a certain measure of curiosity--ended by giving an

impression of being moved, and even awed a little by this speech.

Altogether a very remarkable performance; we have not heard the last now

that we have heard the first of Lord Ribblesdale in the fields of party

oratory.

[Sidenote: A striking personality.]

The Duke of Argyll has changed a good deal in physical appearance during

the last twenty years. There was a time when he was was robust and

squat, a rather stout little man, with a slightly strutting manner, head

thrown back, and very fine and spacious forehead; a head of hair as

luxurious and drooping as that of Mary Magdalene. The form has

considerably shrunk with advanced years, but not with any disadvantage,

for the face, pinched and lined though it appears, has a finer and more

intellectual look than that of earlier days. Wrong-headed--perhaps very

self-conceited--at all events, entirely left behind by the advancing

democratic tide, the Duke of Argyll is yet always to me a sympathetic

and 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 bitter

controversialist, at least he feels the weight and gravity of the vast

questions on which he pronounces. Above all things, he has a touch of

the divine in his oratory. He is, indeed, almost the last inspired

speaker left in the House of Lords. There is another speaker, of whom

more presently, with extraordinary gifts, with also true oratorical

powers, capable of producing mighty effects; but with Lord Rosebery the

light is very clear and very dry; there is none of the softness and

brilliancy, and poetic and imaginative insight which are to be found in

the speeches of the Duke of Argyll. On September 6th the Duke used very

vehement and some very whirling language about Mr. Gladstone; his

reading of history was all wrong; his policy for Ireland was--to put it

plainly--brutal. But what cannot be forgiven to a man who has still

such a beautiful voice--who still gesticulates so beautifully--and,

above all, who is capable of rising to the height of some of the

passages in the speech on this particular Wednesday? For instance, what

could have been more beautiful than that passage in which he put the

argument that Ireland was too near to be treated in the same way as a

distant colony--the passage in which he spoke of seeing from the Scotch

Highlands the sun shining on the cornfields and cottage windows of

Antrim?

[Sidenote: Rosebery's great triumph.]

On September 7th a very great event happened in the House of Lords. The

mental mastership of that assembly was transferred from one man to

another, from the master of many legions to the captain of a few thin

and almost despised battalions. I heard the whole of Lord Rosebery's

speech, and I heard three quarters of the speech of the Marquis of

Salisbury, and no impartial man could deny the contrast between these

two 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 merely

that Lord Salisbury proved himself vastly inferior to Lord Rosebery in

mere oratory, but the speech of the Foreign Secretary was that of a

finer speaker, and of a more serious, intellectual, and sagacious

politician.

[Sidenote: A disadvantage conquered.]

Lord Rosebery had the disadvantage of following upon a speaker who had

reduced the House to a state of somnolent despair. Lord Selborne has an

episcopal appearance, the manner of an author of hymns, and the unctuous

delivery of a High Church speaker. But like most of the orators of the

House of Lords, he considered two hours was the minimum which he was

entitled to occupy, and though he spoke with wonderful briskness, for an

octogenarian, at the beginning of his observations, his voice soon

became so exhausted as to be a mere senile and inaudible whisper. Deeper

and deeper it descended, and the House was in the blackest depths when

the Foreign Secretary rose to speak. Everybody knows how embarrassing

and distressing it is to an orator to have to begin by rousing an

assembly that has been thus depressed; and the difficulty was increased

in the case of Lord Rosebery by the fact that he had to address an

audience in which four hundred men were against him and about forty in

his favour; and there is no orator whose nerve is so steady, and whose

self-confidence is so complete, as not to be depressed and weakened by

such a combination of circumstances. This is partly the reason of the

lighter tone of the earlier observations which offended some too

sensitive critics. Indeed, it might have seemed for some time as if Lord

Rosebery got up with the idea of treating the whole business as the

merest unreality of comedy; and had resolved to signify this by refusing

to treat either the House or the Bill or himself seriously. In face of

the tragedies of the Irish sphinx--with all its centuries of brooding

sorrow behind it, this was not a tone which commended itself to the

judicious. But, then, this was a too hasty criticism. The light and

almost chaffing introduction was necessary in the highest interests of

art; for, as I have said, the House was depressed, and it was in no mood

to listen to an orator whose creed appeared to it the merest rank

treason. It was necessary to get the House into something like

receptiveness of mood before coming to serious business; when that was

done, 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 by

the time Lord Rosebery ten minutes on his legs; Lord Selborne's unctuous

dronings had disappeared into the irrevocable and vast distances; in

short, the moribund Chamber was alive, vivacious, and receptive. And

when he had got them to this point Lord Rosebery took the serious part

of his work seriously in hand. Not that he attempted lofty appeal. On

the contrary, rarely throughout the speech did he raise his voice above

that clear, penetrating, but eminently self-restrained tone which is the

tone of a man of good society, discussing the loftiest and most complex

problem with the easy and disillusioned composure of the experienced and

slightly cynical man of the world. Nay, Lord Rosebery offended some of

his critics by openly avowing the creed of the man of the world in

dealing with the whole problem. He was careful to disown enthusiasm, or

fanaticism, or even willingness in the service of Home Rule. It was with

him simply a frigid matter of policy, a policy to which he had been

driven by the resistless evidence of facts, the resistless logic of

reason.

[Sidenote: A deep-laid purpose.]

This frankly was an attitude which grated slightly on the sensitive

nerves of the many to whom Ireland's emancipation--with all the sobbing

centuries 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 to

adopt for the purpose of carrying out the desired end. And I am inclined

to think--and some of the hottest Irishmen I know agree with me--that

this was the very way Lord Rosebery should have spoken. And after all it

was wonderfully impressive--even to me with all I feel about the Irish

question. For the image it presented--set forth by the physical aspect

of the orator--was such as I can imagine to be wonderfully impressive to

that dull, unimaginative, and unsentimental personage--the man of the

shifting ballast, whose almost impenetrable brain has to finally decide

this question. And the image presented to that very creature of clay was

this: "Here is a man who is my Foreign Secretary; as such, he has every

day of his life to deal with questions which affect my interests in the

most direct way; to fight for my purse, my future, my Empire; and he has

to do so with his brain matched against the brains of the astutest men

in the world--the diplomatic representatives of other Powers. And all

this he has to do with the sense that behind the smooth language of

diplomacy, the unbroken and even voices of diplomatic representatives,

there stand ironclads and mighty armies--bloodshed, wholesale, and

hideous death--the tiger spirit and powers of war. And I see that the

man who has all these complex problems to solve--these trained gamblers

to watch--these sinister Powers to confront and think of--is a man of

cold temper, of frigid understanding, of a power of calm calculation in

face of all the perils and all the emotions and all the sentiment of the

perplexing Irish problems; and to him Home Rule has come as a set, sober

choice of possible policies for the interest of our Empire." Such an

attitude--exalted by the even, though powerful, the cold, though

penetrating voice--the face impassive and inscrutable--the eye, steady,

unmoving, and unreadable--all this, I say, was just the kind of thing to

produce an immense impression on those who are ready only to accept Home

Rule as the policy that pays best.

[Sidenote: Even the Peers impressed.]

And certainly the House of Lords was wonderfully impressed by this

attitude. There was no applause, except now and then from those skeleton

ranks that lay behind Lord Rosebery, but then there was in the whole air

that curious and almost audible silence--to use a conscious

paradox--which conveys to the trained ear clearer sounds of absorption

and attention than the loudest cheers. And then you began to forget the

badinage of the earlier sentences--you forgave the frigidity and

self-repression--you became strongly fascinated by the mobile face,

inscrutable eyes, and the voice penetrated to your innermost ear; he

gave you an immense sense of a clear, masterful, and resolute mind and

character. 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 the

Imperial and supreme responsibility of a Foreign Minister, who was able

to look great and even complex facts straight in the face, who had the

courage to face the disagreeable solution of a troublesome and perilous

problem. And, in spite of its lethargy, its hatred of his opinions, the

House of Lords felt this also, and there was something of awe in the

silence with which it listened to the ringing words of warning with

which the speech concluded. And its attitude showed more. It was, so to

speak, a soul's awakening; it was the discovery of having found at last

a man who could sway, impress, and strike its imagination.

[Sidenote: Salisbury's signal failure.]

On Friday night, September 8th, Lord Salisbury had his opportunity of

undoing this great effect--of reasserting that intellectual as well as

mere voting dictatorship which he holds in the House of Lords; and he

signally failed to rise to the occasion. I do not like the policy of

Lord Salisbury, but there is a lucidity, a point, and sometimes a vigour

in his speeches which make them usually charming reading. It was,

therefore, with the full expectation of being interested that I listened

to him, but he drove me out of the House by the impossibility of my

keeping awake under the influence of his dull, shallow, and

disappointing speech. He began with a little touch of nature that

certainly was prepossessing. He had brought in with him a dark-brown

bottle, like the bottle one associates with seltzer water. The fluid was

perfectly clear; it was evidently not like the strong wine which Prince

Bismarck used to require in the days when he used to make great

speeches. And Lord Salisbury, as he poured out a draught--it looked very

like Johannis water--lifted up the bottle to the Ministers opposite with

a pleasant smile, as though to prove to them that he was not offending

against even the sternest teetotal code.

It was the first and the last bit of real human naturalness in the whole

speech, for Lord Salisbury's manner and delivery are wooden, stiff,

awkward and lumbering. He stands upright--except, of course, for that

heavy stoop of the shoulders which is one of his characteristics--and

rarely moves himself one-hundredth part of an inch. The voice--even,

clear, and strong, and yet not penetrating, and still less

inspiring--rarely has a change of note; it is delivered with the

strange, curious air of a man who is thinking aloud, and has forgotten

the presence of any listeners. The eyes--hidden almost amid the shaggy

and black-grey hair which covers nearly the whole face--are never

directed to any person around. They seem to gaze into vacancy;

altogether there is something curious, weird, almost uncanny, in this

great, big whale of a man, intoning his monologue with that curious

detachment of eye and manner in the midst of a crowded, brilliant, and

intensely 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 mere

soliloquy--should fail to be impressive. It was too far and away

unreal--had too little actuality to reach the poor humble breasts that

were panting for excitement and exhortation. But once throughout it all

was there a touch of that somewhat sardonic humour that sometimes

delights even Lord Salisbury's political foes. Replying to the very

clever speech of Lord Ribblesdale, Lord Salisbury described the speech

as a confession, and all confessions, he added, were interesting, from

St. Augustine to Rousseau, from Rousseau to Lord Ribblesdale. That, I

say, was the solitary gleam. For the rest, it was an historical

essay--with very bad history and worse conclusions; and the whole spirit

was as bad as it could be. The Irish were still the enemy such as they

appear in the bloody pages of Edmund Spenser, or in the war

proclamations and despatches of Oliver Cromwell; and yet I cannot feel

that Lord Salisbury's language could be resented as, say, the same

language would be from Mr. Chamberlain. It all sounded so like the

dreamings of a student and recluse--discussing the problem without much

passion--without even malignity--but with that strange frankness of the

unheard and unechoed musings of the closet.

[Sidenote: A muttered soliloquy.]

Finally, the speech also had the narrowness, shallowness, and unreality

of the hermit's soliloquy. In the main, there was no insight. A

logic-chopper, a dialectician--even in some respects a musing

philosopher--such Lord Salisbury is; but breadth, depth, clear

vision--of that there was not a trace in the whole speech. And then you

went back in memory to the other speech--so clear, so broad-directed,

yet uttered by a man who looked straight before him and all around

him--who felt the presence in his every nerve of that assembly there

which he was addressing; who lived and saw instead of dreaming--and you

could come to no other conclusion than that of the two leaders of the

House of Lords, the young man was the statesman and the man of action as

well as the orator, and that it was worth the spending even all the

weary hours of this past week in the House of Lords to learn so much of

these great protagonists in our Parliamentary struggles.

[Sidenote: Anti-climax.]

Of other speakers I say but little. I came in during the dinner hour to

see a very little man with what we call in Ireland a "cocked" nose, a

conceited mouth, and a curious mixture of the unctuousness and

benedictory manner of the pulpit and the limp twitterings of the curate

at a ladies' tea-fight. This was the head of the Bishop of Ripon. I

cannot stare for even a second at this tiny tomtit and artificial

figure, with all those lawn sleeves and black gowns, and all the other

fripperies and draperies of the parson-peer, who is to every rational

man so grotesque and contemptible an intruder in a legislative chamber.

In the grim and crowded gallery of the personages of an Irish Epic, such

an intruder is like the thin piping note of a tiny bird mid the carnage

and 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 Lords

themselves recognized the comic futility of it. The attempted cheers

ended in one loud, mocking, universal laugh. And thus the curtain fell

on the historic drama of the great Home Rule Session.

T.P.

THE END.

INDEX.

Address, the; 17-30

Agriculture; 24-28

Alarm, a false; 185-6

Anarchy, the unloosing of; 166-7

Allan, Mr.; 258

Apology, Mr. H. Fisher's; 250-1

---- a lame; 251-2

Argyll, the Duke of; 275-6

Asquith, 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; 162

Austin in the fight, Mr.; 249

Baiting the lion; 78

Bannerman, 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; 215-6

Bartlett, Ashmead; 123-4

Bartley, G.T.C.; 55, 57, 200-1, 258

----'s character; 54

Barton and Dunbar; 117, 148-9

Beach, Sir Michael Hicks (see Hicks-Beach).

Beaufoy, M.H.; 17

Belfast Catholics, The attack on; 147-9

Biggar, Mr., a reminiscence; 98-9

Bills, bringing in; 13-4

Bimetallism; 55, 57, 200-1

Birrell, Augustin; 116-7

Bolton, T.; 268

Bowles, Gibson; 64, 258

---- and the fight; 249

Brodrick, Mr. St. John; 237-9

Bryce Mr. J., and Home Rule; 38

---- and Mr. Gladstone; 181-2

Bryne, Mr.; 189

Budget, The; 146-7, 151-2

Bullet in Downing Street, the; 153-5

Burnie, Mr.; 258

Burns, 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; 266-7

Bursting of the cyclone, the; 248-9

Burt, "Tommy"; 150-1

Byles, W.P.; 69

Calm before the storm, the; 111

Campbell-Bannerman, Mr.; 258-9

----'s wit; 26

Carlton Club echoes; 77

Carson, E.; 92-3, 138-40

---- in the Green Street Court-House; 93-5

---- the lawyer and the hangman; 94

---- and Fred Archer; 139

Cavendish, Victor; 177

Chamberlain, Austen; 135

----'s resemblance to his father; 12

Chamberlain, 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; 243-4

Chambers, a contrast between the two; 271

Chaplin, Henry; 261

Charwomen and ratcatchers; 212-3

Churchill, Lord Randolph,; 58, 110, 132, 161, 167, 247

---- his genius and fall; 20

---- improving; 46

---- and Balfour deadly foes; 72-3

---- and Gladstone; 169-70

Clanricarde, Lord; 155-7

---- entry of a ghost; 157-8

Claque in Parliament, The; 54

Clothes; 201-4

Cobbe, Mr.; 210

Cochrane left limp; 78

Collings, a "rodent," Jesse; 27

Comic relief; 18

Condon and the fight, Tom; 249

Consolations of old age, the; 192-3

Conservative opportunity, A; 188-9

Conybeare and the Speaker, Mr.; 226-7

Courtney, L.H.; 13, 185, 263

----'s H's; 22

Cranborne's impudence, Lord; 68, 176

---- interruption; 129-30

Crean in the Fight, Mr.; 249

Criminal combination, a; 65-6

Cunningham Graham (see Graham, Cunningham).

Cyclone, the bursting of the; 249

_Daily News_ and Chamberlain, the; 189-95

Dalziel, Mr.; 236, 258

Davenport, Mr. Bromley; 67

Davitt, Michael--a portrait; 124

Deeper and deeper; 176-7

Defeat, a Government; 252-3

Demos and dinner; 209-10

Devonshire, funereal; 273-4

De Worms, Baron; 90

Dilke, Sir Charles; 16, 99-100, 252-56

---- and Egypt; 158-9

Dillon and Chamberlain, Mr.; 218-26, 264

Disappointed office seekers; 52

Disestablishment; 200-1

Disraeli--an oriental juggler; 56

---- A recollection of; 69

---- Coningsby; 263

Division, a tight; 179-80

Divisions; 48, 110, 144-5, 150, 162, 169, 177, 179-80, 187-8, 236-7,

240-1, 253, 268, 282

Divorce, Irish objections to; 199-200

Duty of Liberals, the plain; 257-8

Dynamitards, release of; 29

Egypt; 158-61

Eirenicon, a great; 160-1

Ellis, Tom; 144

Employers' liability; 42-3, 150-1

Epoch of brutality, the; 78

Fall of the flag, the; 234

False alarm, a; 185-6

Farmer, pity the poor (see Agriculture)

Fateful moment, the; 218

Fergusson, Sir James; 252

Field unsteady, the; 236

Fight in the House, the; 242-53

First fence, the; 164-5, 169

Fisher & the fight, Hayes; 251-2

Forster, Arnold; 149

---- and Sexton; 227-8

Foster, Sir Walter; 177

Fowler, H.H.; 41-2

Freemasonry and Mr. Gladstone; 210-12

Gibbs, A.G.H.; 176

---- and the fight, Vicary; 246-7, 250

Gladstone, Mrs.; 35

---- and her husband; 176

Gladstone, 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; 260-3

Gorst, Sir John; 25-6, 90-1

---- and Mr. Balfour's face; 26

---- Tory distrust of; 46

Goschen, J.H.; 55, 241, 267

---- to the rescue; 61

---- attacks the Chairman; 65

---- a good speech; 131-2

---- playful; 151-2

Government and private Members, the; 153

Graham, Cunningham; 25

Great night, A; 35

Grey, Sir Edward; 23-4

---- a coming man; 255-6

Griffiths, Ellis; 45

Guillotine, but not yet, the; 197

Haldane, Q.C., R.B.; 23

Halifax and Walsall, Liberal enthusiasm; 29

Harcourt, Sir William; 15, 74, 192, 233, 237

---- beams pleasantly; 29

---- and the Budget; 146-7

---- as an Early Christian; 152-3

Hardie, Keir- (see Keir-Hardie)

Harland, Sir E.; 254

Harrington and Chamberlain, Mr.; 223-6

Hayes-Fisher and the fight; 251-2

Healy and the fight, Mr.; 249

Herod--Judas!; 242-6

Hibbert, Sir John; 252

Hicks-Beach, Sir Michael; 43

Hissing in the gallery; 244

Home 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; 269-82

Hull; 162-3

Hunter, Dr.; 51, 57

Incidents; 21-2, 193-4

Incident, the Sexton; 198

Interruption, a vulgar and caddish; 126

---- another unmannerly; 129-30

---- My remarks on; 193-4

Ireland in danger; 59

----'s Charter through; 260-8

Irony of seats, the; 9

Irish objections to Divorce; 199-200

Jackson and Gladstone; 108-9

James, Sir Henry; 13, 48, 141, 155

Jealousies and great questions, small; 47-50

Jesse Collings (see Collings, Jesse)

Johnston of Ballykilbeg; 10-1, 25, 137-8

Jones, Atherley; 241

Judas!; 242-7

Keeping the seats; 247

Keir-Hardie; 24-5

Kenyon convulses the House; 47-8

Labouchere, Henry; 15, 97, 99, 236, 252

----'s pronunciation; 22-3

---- and Biggar; 98-9

Lambert, G.; 17

Liberals, the plain duty of; 257-8

Lion lashes out, the; 79

Lockwood, Frank; 163

Logan and the fight; 247-9, 251-2

Lords, Home Rule in the; 269-82

Lowther, James; 55-7, 68-71, 77, 81, 85-6, 89-90

---- What a cruel face; 55

---- and Burns; 65

---- flouts Balfour; 80

Lubbock, Sir John; 199

Macartney, W.G.E.; 170, 199-200

Marjoribanks, E.P.C.; 58, 62

McCarthy, Justin; 29, 122, 264

McCorquodale & Co.; 252-3

McGregor, Dr.; 197

McNeill, Swift; 176-240

Mellor, J.W.; 65-6, 166, 197, 236-8, 246

---- and Mr. Sexton; 238-40

Memories; 9

Milman, the interfering; 240

Miners, triumph of the; 161-2

Ministry, the new; 15

Mitchelstown, and Mr. Dillon; 219-23

Morley, Arnold; 254

Morley, John; 15, 64, 75, 185, 211, 218, 253, 267-8

---- and Chamberlain; 134-5

----'s tweed suit; 203-4

Morton, A.C.; 59, 259

Malcontents, powerful; 52

Morton, E.J.C.; 24

Mundella, A.J.; 43, 90-1, 163

My apology; 250-1

My remarks on interruption; 193-4

Narrow shave, a; 187-8

Nepotism in the army; 258-9

New ministry, the; 15

Ninth Clause, the; 230-7

Nolan, Colonel; 268

O'Brien, William; 12, 126

---- and the fight; 249

Obstruction, naked and unashamed; 29

---- sober and subdued; 40-1

---- organized for; 53

---- artists in; 55

---- rampant; 64

---- flagrant; 76

---- Tory; 144-50

Old age, the consolations of; 192-3

Opening of Parliament; 9

---- of the row; 246-7

Opposition in excellent form, the; 17

Outburst, the; 175-6

Parliamentary Wednesdays; 44-5

Parnell twelve years ago; 31-2

---- a memory of; 105-6

---- and Chamberlain; 119-20

---- and Gladstone; 120-1

Pas de Deux, a brilliant; 204-5

Peers impressed, even the; 279-80

Philipps, J.W.; 16

Plain duty of the Liberals, the; 257-8

Potter and Mr. Chamberlain, T.B.; 21-2

Powerful malcontents; 52

Private Members and the Government; 153

Railway rates; 51

---- Servants' Bill; 153

Redmond. J.E.; 29, 230-1, 263

---- and Home Rule; 38-9

Reduced majorities; 229-30

Reed us an alarmist, Sir E.J.; 255-6

Registration Bill, the; 41

Release of the dynamitards; 29

Reminiscence of 1885, a; 267-8

Rendel, Stuart; 41

Renewal of the fight; 178

Rentoul, Dr.; 11

Ribblesdale, Lord; 274

Rigby, Sir John; 127

Ripon, the Bishop of; 282

Robertson, E.; 260

Rollit, the modern Tory, Sir Albert; 41

Roscoe, Sir Henry; 193

Rosebery's great triumph, Lord; 276-80

Russell, Sir Charles; 203

Russell, T.W.; 25, 45, 64, 89, 91-2, 176

---- and the Second Chamber; 169

Salaried Members; 51

Salisbury's signal failure, Lord; 280-2

Saunderson, Colonel; 12

---- & the fight; 248-9

Saunders, Mr.; 268

Scene, 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; 182-3

Selborne, Lord; 276

Seton-Karr; 53

---- demands admission; 10

Sexton, 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; 238-40

Shave, a narrow; 187-8

Shaw, Mr.; 236

Shout of battle, the; 214-5

Shuttleworth, Sir O.K.; 254

Silence of the Tories, cowed; 262

---- of the Irishry, Stony; 165-6

Situation, an awkward; 159

Slow progress; 195-6

Small jealousies and great questions; 49-50

Speaker snubs Brookfield, the; 126

---- and Lord Cranborne, the; 130

---- and Mr. Conybeare, the; 226-7

---- and the fight, the; 249-50

Speech from the throne, the; 16-7

Spencer's serene courage, Earl; 271-3

Squabble, a; 237-40

Stansfeld, Mr.; 117-8

Storey, S.; 61

----'s fateful speech; 68-9

Storm, a coming; 58

Strange bedfellows; 10

Stuart Rendel; 46

Suspensory Bill for Wales, the; 45-8

Tanner, Dr.; 11

----'s waistcoat, Dr.; 11

Tea on the Terrace; 207-9

Temple, Sir Richard; 179

_Times_ out-manoeuvred, the; 53

---- organized for obstruction, the; 53

---- Cowed silence of the; 262

To thy orisons; 213-4

Tory Leader, no; 58

Tragedy of politics, the; 101

Tramp, tramp, tramp; 241

Treasury Bench looks awkward, the; 184-5

Trevelyan, Sir George; 122-3

Triumph, a historic; 160

---- for Mr. Burns, a; 259-60

---- of the tweed coat, the; 201-40

Uganda; 21-4, 96-101

Ugand_er_; 22-3

Ugly moment, an; 184-5

Vaccinationists, the Anti-; 177

Vincent and fair trade, Sir H.; 25, 258

Visit to the Lords, a; 155

Vote of Censure, the; 104-10

Vulgar and caddish interruption, a; 126

Wales in a rage; 45-8

Wallace, Mr.; 268

---- Wit, wearisome; 266

Walsall and Halifax; 29

Watchers for the dawn; 10

Welsh Suspensory Bill, the; 45-8

"Who said 'Rats'?"; 27

Wilson, J.H.; 162

Wistful Whip, the; 213

Wolmer, Lord; 180-1

Woods, Sam; 16

Wyndham, 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 ***

End of Project Gutenberg's Sketches In The House (1893), by T. P. O'Connor