"Curious to think," said the Squire of Malwood, who just now has unusually full opportunities for reflection, "that a few years ago Davitt was working out the Irish Question with a rope over his shoulder, dragging a cart of stones through the court-yard of one of Her Majesty's prisons. No one, casually coming across him at Portland, would have ventured to forecast the hour when, standing up, the centre of interest in an applauding House of Commons, he should have had an opportunity of reasoning with the only occasionally Dum Barton, warning him against the practice of treason-felony, and reminding him that the pathway to the Bench does not lie by way of the dock. No parallel in politics to the Irish Question. Some of us have our earlier studies interrupted by a sentence of imprisonment; others, I daresay, will, later on, find in similar chaste repose opportunity of reviewing our connection with it."
Mr. D-v-tt says no British Bill can pass while the Irish Bill blocks the way.
Involuntarily the eye of the Great Philosopher rested on the graceful figure of Prince Arthur, whose speech at Belfast, on the Philosophy of Rebellion, Davitt just now cited in justification of the overt acts that led him to Portland.
Business done.—Fourth Night Home-Rule Debate.
Thursday.—"In spite of all temptation, I have hitherto remained a Member of House of Commons," Chaplin said to me just now. "I might by this time, had I pleased, been a Duke, and my most unscrupulous detractor will not deny that is a position I could fill with pictorial effect; but I've stuck to the Commons, and this is my reward."
Truly a striking episode. Chaplin delivered oration on Home-Rule Bill hour and half long. Had sat up night and day with it, polishing its rotund periods, till, as Prince Arthur whispers, "Chaplin, gazing upon their surface, saw not himself, but Demosthenes." Fortune favoured him in opportunity. Member for Sunderland had secured privilege of resuming Debate after Questions. Resolved to make long Storey short, he sacrificed his position. Chaplin nimbly stepped in, and reasonably looked forward to crowning epoch in shining Parliamentary career. To open or resume Debate between four and five in afternoon is a prized opportunity; accident had placed it within Chaplin's grasp; the hour had struck, and here, at the table, was the Man.
Alack, for the instability of human prospects! When the House, fairly full, beheld the sunny presence at the table, watched it produce the vaporous folds of manuscript, noted the shrug of satisfaction with which it set about its self-appointed task, it folded its tent like the Arab, and, though not as silently, stole away. Trundled and bundled out, with ostentatious indifference to great orator, the fund of information he had garnered, the counsel with which he was charged. Chaplin had brought statesmanship and literature of Europe into review, picking out from encyclopædic stores testimony to destruction of Mr. G.'s pet scheme. The very names quoted were a liberal education—Mr. Lecky, Count Beust, Cavour, Dr. Geffcken, M. de Molinaris. And then interposes the Sage of Queen Anne's Gate with bland deferential inquiry—
"I beg the Right Hon. Gentleman's pardon, I did not catch the name. Was it M. Apollinaris?"
