This episode has made me anticipate a little, and almost tempted me to pass by one of the incidents in the speech of Mr. Chamberlain.  But that would have been a mistake, for it is an incident that brings out fully the reason why he is so utterly disliked and distrusted even in those Tory circles which, for the moment, are making use of him.  It is an incident that likewise throws a flood of light upon the inner, hidden, dark depths of his sinister nature.  He was arguing on the financial aspects of Mr. Gladstone’s Bill.  Under this portion of the Bill the trader who has residences in both countries is entitled to make his return for his income-tax in either England or Ireland.  Mr. Chamberlain proceeded to put the case of a trader in that position who wished to embarrass the Irish Government, and who would wish accordingly to give England, and not the Irish Exchequer, the advantage of his income-tax.  This he could do, Mr. Chamberlain pointed out, in the easiest manner imaginable; he could “manipulate his books.”  There it stands; these are the very words he used.  Incredible, everybody would say who didn’t know Mr. Chamberlain, and wasn’t told by the evidence of eyes and ears that the words had actually been uttered.  The Irish members were not slow to seize the point, and to shout aloud at this revelation of Mr. Chamberlain’s nature; and even his Tory friends shuddered at such a manifestation of the real kind of man that lies hidden under Mr. Chamberlain’s oily and smooth exterior.  At first, he seemed surprised at the visible shock and tremor and involuntary sense of repulsion which this odious suggestion awakened on all sides—­then he slowly realized that he had made a mistake; and, for once, this readiest of debaters was nonplussed, and even a little abashed.

[Sidenote:  The Irish Members and the Bill.]

Mr. MacCarthy followed Mr. Chamberlain; he spoke just from ten to fifteen minutes—­plainly, simply, to the point, and what he had to say was that he and his friends did look on this Bill as a final settlement, which Ireland would be honourably pledged to carry out.  Unselfish, straightforward, unpretentious, kindly, Mr. MacCarthy brought into more vivid contrast the personal venom—­the ruthless hunger for vengeance and the humiliation of his enemies—­which came out with almost painful vividness from the speech to which we had just ceased to listen.  Mr. Gladstone, sitting opposite, attentive and watchful, was evidently much pleased at the heartiness of Mr. MacCarthy’s acceptance of his great measure.

[Sidenote:  Sir George Trevelyan.]

The night wound up with the very best speech I have ever heard Sir George Trevelyan deliver.  Sir George had to answer violent, fierce, almost malignant assault; but he did so without ever uttering a harsh word—­without losing one particle of his courteous and admirable self-control—­he raised the debate of a great issue to the high place of difference of principles and convictions, instead