A Distinguished Stranger.
House of Commons, Monday, March 3.—Old Morality, decently dressed in black, stood at table to-night, reading through the space of an hour his discourse on Report of Parnell Commission. A decorous, almost funereal function. J. G. Talbot enjoyed it thoroughly. "So like being in church on Sunday afternoon," he said. "Wish Old Morality could have seen his way to put on white neck-tie, and brought his notes bound up in black cover."
Service proceeded very well without these details. Jemmy Lowther early fell victim to gentle influence of occasion. Long before Old Morality had reached his fourthly, James, with head reverently bent on his chest, sweetly slept; dreamt he was a boy again, sitting in the family pew at Easington-cum-Liverton, listening to his revered grandfather bubbling forth orthodoxy. Up in Distinguished Strangers' Gallery sat a little boy on his father's knee. Long he listened to the gentle murmur, broken now and then by a yawn from a back bench, or the rustling of the manuscript as it was turned over folio by folio. It was a great occasion for him; his first visit to the Chamber which still echoed with the tones of his father's uncle, John Bright. He kept gallantly awake as quarter-hour sped after quarter-hour, and then, reminiscent of a nursery story somewhere told, his too audible whisper broke in upon the slumbering gallery.
"Papa, hasn't the Gentleman brought his Amen with him?"
It came at last. Perhaps none so grateful as Old Morality. Curious to note how, when beholding the welcome last folio of his discourse, Old Morality, uplifting his voice, said, "And now to——", there was a sudden movement in the crowd, a shuffling of feet, a rustling of garments, a motion as if the congregation were about to rise to receive the benediction. But Old Morality was only about to observe, "And now to bring these imperfect remarks to a conclusion, I would entreat the House to consider the great interests at stake, to vindicate the reputation of this House, and to do their duty to their Queen and Country."
After peace, the storm. Gladstone ruffled prevalent calm with a tornado of virile eloquence. Grand Old Man in fine form. If he had had the arrangement of course of events, nothing could have been more successfully designed than the contrast. For Old Morality's gentle commonplaces, his pallid platitudes, his copy-book headings strung together in timid flight after the Good and the True, here rushed a flood of burning eloquence, carrying with it the whole audience; jubilant the Opposition, faintly resisting the Ministerialists. Gladstone had no copy-book before him, only the merest skeleton of notes. These, with what seemed to the intently-listening audience the fewest, simplest touches, he informed and inflamed with flesh and blood. Spoke for an hour and forty minutes—a marvellous feat for any man, a miracle of mental and physical force for an octogenarian.
"I shan't play!"
Hick-Beach followed; but spell broken; the listening throng, filling the chamber from floor to topmost range of gallery, swiftly melted away. Thus it came to pass there were few to see Harcourt as presently he went forth whimpering. He, the champion slogger, accustomed to rampage round the tents of the enemy, and bring his shillelagh down on any head accidentally protruding, had been himself attacked. Hicks-Beach girded at him to-night in comparatively gentle fashion. Harcourt tossed about on bench and pettishly protested; claimed Speaker's protection; Speaker declined to interfere. Then, digging lusty knuckles into moist eyes, he sobbed, "I—I—am not going to stay to be abused in this manner; shan't play!" and so went forth, amid the jeers and mocking laughter of naughty boys opposite. Business done.—Debate on Parnell Commission Report opened.
Tuesday.—Haven't seen anything more charming for a long time than Elliott Lees' plunge into debate on the Parnell Commission Report. Rose at same time as Charles Lewis, squaring his elbows, stretching his legs and crooking his knees, as if had just dismounted, after winning steeplechase. Charles Lewis, Bart., on feet at same time; might reasonably be supposed to claim precedence, having Amendment on paper, in addition to wide Parliamentary reputation. Lees didn't even look at Bart. Began his remarks, taking it as a matter of course that Speaker would call on him. House doesn't like Charles Lewis, Bart., so called on Lees, and Bart. withdrew, angrily snorting.