ct is, that judged by results this
little speech, not much above half-an-hour in duration, was one of the
most extraordinary triumphs of Mr. Gladstone's long oratorical life.
What constitutes the greatest of all Parliamentary triumphs? It is that
without abandoning your own principles, you shall so state a case that
even your bitterest political opponents will rest contented with, and be
ready to accept, your speech as the expression of their views. And this
is just what occurred. Mr. Goschen, I have said, came down to the House
chock-full of attack--I have, indeed, heard that he has confessed to
having been prepared to make a speech of some length. On the other side
of the House there sat Labby--full of that dogged, immutable Radicalism
which will make no distinction between Liberal and Tory when his
principles of foreign policy are at stake; and he was ready to pounce
upon the Prime Minister if he had detected any departure from the narrow
and straight path which leads to Radical salvation. In the background
were the dim forces of Unionism, more eager--perhaps even more
reckless--in readiness to attack Mr. Gladstone than his opponents on the
opposite benches. And behind them and above them, in all parts of the
House, was that countless host of busybodies, bores and specialists who
see in Egypt an opportunity of airing fads, fanaticism, or vanities.

[Sidenote: A great eirenicon.]

The paper which contained the list of pairs for the night was crammed
with the names of members from both sides, who, anticipating a debate of
hours' duration, had wisely resolved to spend the interval between the
motion and a division in the bosoms of their families--miles away from
the floor of the House of Commons. The Whips had prepared their
followers for a big division somewhere about midnight. And, lo! on all
this vast and turbulent sea of conflicting waves the Prime Minister
poured half an hour of oratorical oil, and the waters were stilled, and
the great deep at perfect rest. In other words, Mr. Goschen threw away
his notes; Labby advised Sir Charles Dilke not to go to a division; the
debate had not begun and then it was over, and all that followed was
addressed to a House empty of everybody. The Old Man--dexterous, calm,
instinctive--had spoken the right word to meet every view, and there was
nothing more for anybody to say. There is nobody else in the House who
can do it; when his voice is stilled, the greatest of all Parliamentar