Everything excellently planned, the man, the hour, and the surroundings. Only thing forgotten was the dog—dog, you know, that has a little place down at Epsom, and turns up on course just as the ranged horses are straining at the bit, and the flag is upheld for the fall. On this occasion, Irish dog, of course. Introduced in artfullest way. Esmonde, mildest-mannered man that ever whipped for Irish party, casually, as if he were inviting him to have a cigarette, asked Wolmer across House whether it was true that he had called Irish Members "forty paid mercenaries"? Wolmer, an equally well-dressed, civil-spoken young man, smilingly admitted that it was quite true he had couched a remark in the terms quoted, but had certainly not meant anything offensive to Irish Members. Indeed, general aspect of noble Lord, and his tone, suggested feeling of surprise that Esmonde and his friends should not rather have felt complimented by the observation challenged.
This turned out to be polite crossing of swords before duel to the death, a shaking of hands before deadly set-to without gloves. Sexton suddenly dashed in, and, with back-handed stroke at Wolmer, went for the Times who had adopted and improved upon the Viscount's genial remarks. Assault admirably planned; carried on with irresistible vigour, sweeping down earlier resistance of Speaker. Showed what Sexton can do when so deeply moved as to forget himself, and resist besetting temptation to play the fatal windbag.
An hour-and-half's tussle all round House; at end Irish held the field, and, without dissentient voice, Times article declared to be "gross and scandalous breach of privileges of House."
But the hour and half had passed, and with it Randolph's chance of supreme success. House of Commons, though greedy for excitement, will never stand two doses in quick succession. After scene like that, which to-night filled House with fire and smoke, anything that follows is anti-climax. It was a cruel fate, which Grandolph bore uncomplainingly, and fought against with quiet courage. Painfully nervous when he broke the silence of two years, the still crowded House had difficulty in catching his opening sentences. But, as he went on, he recovered himself, and regained mastery over an audience evidently eager to welcome his permanent return to position of old supremacy.
Business done.—The Wanderer returned. Slow music. Air—"Come, Kill the fatted Calf."
Saturday, 12:50, A.M.—Mr. G. just brought in Home-Rule Bill, amid ringing cheers from Ministerialists, who rise to their feet, and wildly wave their hats as Premier passes to table. Been some effective speaking on this last night of Debate. Chamberlain, Blake, and John Morley, each excellent in varied way. Only few Members present to hear Bodkin insert maiden speech in dinner-hour. A remarkable effort, distinguished, among other things, by necessity of Speaker twice interposing, second time with ominous threat that Bodkin could not be tolerated much longer. Bodkin, resuming thread of his discourse, humbly apologised, kept his eye (Bodkin's eye) warily on Speaker, and, when he saw him preparing to rise for third time, abruptly resumed his seat,—returned hurriedly to the needle-case, so to speak,—and thus avoided worse things.
Business done.—Home-Rule Bill read a First Time.
REAL "DIPLOMACY."
No doubt of it! A great diplomatic stroke on the part of Mr. John Hare is this revival of Diplomacy—i.e., Sardou's Dora in an English-made dress—at the Garrick Theatre. An unequivocal success (of which more "in our next") on Saturday night for everybody; and, after the Play was over, the audience, inspired by "the gods," called Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft before the curtain. Mrs. Bancroft, in the course of an admirable little speech, said, "If I stood here till next week, I should not be able to express all I feel." Now as, by the right time, it was exactly 11:54 P.M. Saturday night, this clever lady would certainly not have been able in the time to express all she felt, or to say all she would have liked to say, seeing there were only six minutes left before "next week" began.