Ah! these fears are all vain. The exquisite cadence--the delightful bye-play--the broad, free gesture--the lofty tones of indignation and appeal--but, above all, the even tenderness, composure, and charity that endureth all things--all these qualities range through this magnificent speech. Thus he wishes to administer to Sir Henry James a well-merited rebuke for his terrible and flagitious incitements, and, with uplifted hands, and in a voice of infinite scorn, Mr. Gladstone turns on Sir Henry, and overwhelms him, amid a tempest of cheers from the delighted Irishry and Liberals.
But there is another and an even more extraordinary instance of the power, grace, and mastery of the mighty orator. The G.O.M. had made an allusion to that pleasant and promising speech of young Austen Chamberlain, of which I have spoken already. Just by the way, with that delightful and unapproachable lightness of touch which is the unattainable charm of Mr. Gladstone's oratory, he alluded to the speech and to Mr. Chamberlain himself. "I will not enter into any elaborate eulogy of that speech," said Mr. Gladstone. "I will endeavour to sum up my opinion of it by simply saying that it was a speech which must have been dear and refreshing to a father's heart." And then came one of the most really pathetic scenes I have ever beheld in the House of Commons--a scene with that touch of nature which makes the whole akin, and, for the moment, brings the fiercest personal and political foes into the holy bond of common human feeling. Mr. Chamberlain is completely unnerved--I should have almost said for the first time in his life. I have seen this very remarkable man under all kinds of circumstances--in triumph--in disaster--in rage--in composure--but never before--not even in the very ecstasy of the hours of party feeling--never before did I see him lose for a moment his self-possession. First, he bowed low to Mr. Gladstone in gratitude--and then the tears sprang to his eyes; his lips trembled painfully, and his hand sprang to his forehead, as though to hide the woman's tears that did honour to his manhood. And, curiously enough, the feeling did not pass away. I know not whether Mr. Chamberlain was out of sorts on this great night; but his manner was very different on this night of nights; indeed, from what it has been at every other period of this fierce, stormy Session. He cheered as loudly and as frequently as the best of the rank and file--interrupted--in short, manifested all the passions of the hour. But on that Friday night--specially after this allusion of Mr. Gladstone's to his son--he sate silent, and in a far-off reverie.