[Sidenote:  The fray opens.]

But Mr. Balfour is independent of tradition, and demonstrated it at once with a speech almost vehement, in part, in its attack.  He had a whole host of flings at Mr. Justice Mathew and the Evicted Tenants’ Commission—­his hits, though sufficiently obvious, and almost cheap, being rapturously received.  Altogether, it must be said the Opposition were in excellent form, and cheered their man with a lustiness which did them infinite credit.  The Liberals, on the other hand, with forces somewhat scattered—­the round Irish chorus being especially so, in the remote distance—­did not seem equally well-organized from the point of view of the claque.  With the dynamite prisoners Mr. Balfour dealt so gingerly that it was evident he knew the weakness of the Tory case, and was very apprehensive that Mr. Matthews would be found to have sold the pass.  The ex-Home Secretary, meantime, was still disporting himself around the Red Sea or in the Straits of Bab-el-mandeb; and Mr. Balfour, who has notoriously a bad memory, was left groping in the cobwebs of his brain, trying to recollect which of the dynamitards it was Mr. Matthews intended to retain and which to release.  Attacking the action of Mr. Morley with regard to the liberation of the Gweedore prisoners, Mr. Balfour brought upon himself a series of sharp interruptions from Mr. Morley; and there was some very pretty play, Mr. Balfour retorting now and then with considerable skill and readiness.  Altogether it was an excellent fighting speech, and a good beginning.  There were, in addition to what I have mentioned, plenty of shots about the foreign policy of the Government, especially in Uganda and Egypt; and it is needless to say that Mr. Balfour accused his successors of swallowing in office all the principles they had professed in Opposition.

[Sidenote:  The Old Man rises.]

Mr. Gladstone had to stand silent for a few minutes in face of the thunderous welcome which he received from the Irish benches.  Though the reception was gratifying, he seemed to be impatiently awaiting its termination, for he was full of vigour and eagerness for the attack, and never in his most youthful hours did he display a greater readiness to meet all assaults half-way.  Those who are accustomed to the Old Man are in the habit of noting a few premonitory signs which will always pretty well forecast the kind of speech he will make.  If he starts up flurried and excited, it is ten chances to one that the speech will not remain vigorous to the end; that there will be a break of voice and a weakening of strength, and that the close will not be equal to the opening.  But when the voice is cold—­though full of a deep underswell at the moment of starting—­when Mr. Gladstone moves his body with the easy grace of perfect self-mastery, then the House is going to have an oratorical treat.  So it was in this initial speech.  There was just a touch of hoarseness in the voice, but it had a fine roll, the roll of the wave on a pebbly beach in an autumn evening; and he carried himself so finely and so flauntingly that there was no apprehension of anything like a loss or a waste of strength.