as one who enjoyed great riches for which he
had neither toiled nor spun, and he savagely denounced Lord Salisbury
and his class. As a matter of fact, Lord Salisbury from his earliest
days has toiled and spun in the service of the State, and for the
advancement of his countrymen in learning, in wealth, and in prosperity;
but no Radical ever yet allowed himself to be embarrassed by a question
of fact. Just look, however, at what Mr. Chamberlain himself does; he
goes to Newcastle, and is entertained at a banquet there, and procures
for the president of the feast a live Earl--no less a person than the
Earl of Durham. Now, Lord Durham is a young person who has just come of
age, who is in the possession of immense hereditary estates, who is well
known on Newmarket Heath, and prominent among the gilded youth who
throng the doors of the Gaiety Theatre; but he has studied politics
about as much as Barnum's new white elephant, and the idea of rendering
service to the State has not yet commenced to dawn on his ingenuous
mind. If by any means it could be legitimate, and I hold it is
illegitimate, to stigmatize any individual as enjoying great riches for
which he has neither toiled nor spun, such a case would be the case of
the Earl of Durham; and yet it is under the patronage of the Earl of
Durham, and basking in the smiles of the Earl of Durham, and bandying
vulgar compliments with the Earl of Durham, that this stern patriot,
this rigid moralist, this unbending censor, the Right Honourable Joseph
Chamberlain, flaunts his Radical and levelling doctrines before the
astonished democrats of Newcastle. 'Vanity of Vanities,' saith the
preacher, 'all is vanity.' 'Humbug of Humbugs,' says the Radical, 'all
is humbug.'"

And with that most characteristic specimen of popular eloquence, we may
leave the two great demagogues of the Victorian Age.

At the period of which I am speaking the House of Commons contained two
or three orators surviving from a class which had almost died away.
These were men who, having no gift for extempore speaking, used to study
the earlier stages of a debate, prepare a tremendous oration, and then
deliver it by heart. Such, in days gone by, had been the practice of
Bulwer-Lytton, and, as far as one can see, of Macaulay. In my day it was
followed by Patrick Smyth, Member for Tipperary, and by Joseph Cowen,
Member for Newcastle. Both were real rhetoricians. Both could compose
long discourses, couched in the most