was
nothing but sheer downright chaos, drivel, and anarchy.

[Sidenote: The unloosing of anarchy.]

It began when Mr. Mellor accepted the motion for closure. At once there
arose from the Tory Benches wild, angry, insulting cries of "Shame!
shame! scandalous! the gag! the gag!" This would have been all right if
it had been addressed to Mr. Gladstone. Party leaders have to give and
take, and in moments of excitement they must not complain if their
political opponents denounce them. But closure is the act of the
presiding officer of the House, and it has been an almost unbroken rule
and tradition of Parliament that the presiding officer shall be
safeguarded against even an approach to attack or insult. It is a
tradition that has its weak side; but, on the whole, it is in accordance
with that great national English characteristic of subordination to
necessary authority and the maintenance of order, decency, and
self-control as the trinity of public virtues and personal demeanour. If
Mr. Peel had been in the chair he would have called those Tories to
order; and if they had persisted as they did, he would have promptly
named the highest among them. Mr. Chamberlain was not ashamed to join in
those hoarse and disorderly shouts; and it was in this temper that the
different sides walked slowly, silently, and frowningly to the division
lobbies.

The moment the division was over, the storm which had been stilled broke
forth again, and with wilder fury. Lord Randolph Churchill, as I have
several times remarked, is not the man he was. I remember the time when
in such a scene he would have been perfectly at home; self-restrained,
vigilant, and effective. But on this night it was nothing above mere
inarticulateness--hoarse and ineffective fury--an almost painful
exhibition. Sometimes his lisp became so strong that he was scarcely
able to utter the words he desired to bring out. The Prime Minister
became "The Primisther," the Chief Secretary the "Cheesesecry," and all
this impotence was made the more manifest by thundering on the box with
his open hand--in short, it was all inarticulate, painful, perplexing
emptiness, weakened and not fortified by prolific tub-thumping. A
poor--sad--nay, a tragic business.

[Sidenote: The young man and the old.]

Such was the young man; and then came the old. To all this inarticulate,
hoarse, stammering passion, Mr. Gladstone opposed a speech gentle,
persuasive, self-possessed; as admirable in its