arvard
Theological School. Inverting his pyramid, after beginning with the
cone, he put in the base, taking up the work of undergraduate, and
studying for an A.B. At Harvard he is best remembered as Creon in
the _Oedipus Tyrannus_, where his handsome face and figure and
mellifluous Greek won much admiration. Soon after, he cast to the
winds both his Greek and theology and was in London fighting his way
in the Press. Since then he has become famous for Oriental travel and
observation, in which field he is an authority, and also as a member
of Parliament. A friendship with him had been conciliated for me by a
good letter from Edwin D. Mead, and I was glad to have him by my side
that night. Through his help I soon was in the hands of Mr. Bryce and
under his guidance found the way to my appointed seat. The House was
in an uproar as I entered and from my point of vantage I looked down
upon the scene, undignified, but full of most virile life. At the
opposite end of the Hall sat Speaker Peel, in gown and wig, his
sonorous cries of "Order! order!" availing little it seemed, to quiet
the assembly. In the centre of the Chamber stood the famous table,
the mace reposing at the end, the symbol that the House was in formal
session. On one side sat the members of the new Cabinet, the foremost
and most interesting figure, Lord Randolph Churchill. Opposite to
them across the width of the table were the leaders of the opposition,
Gladstone at the fore. The benches were densely crowded with members.
Under my feet where I could not see them were the Irish members, not
visible but noisily audible. Many men of note were in their seats that
night. A powerful voice was ringing through the Chamber as I took my
seat, which I soon found was that of Bradlaugh. His utterance was a
sustained declamation. But there were ejaculations, sometimes mere
hoots and cat-calls, sometimes crisply-shouted sentences rose into the
air. "I belong to a society for the abolition of the House of Lords,"
came thundering up. It was from Sir Wilfred Lawson, the radical from
Carlisle, whose statue now stands on the Thames Embankment. Lord
Randolph Churchill made that night what I suppose was the great speech
of his life, for some two hours facing the Irish members waging a
forensic battle, memorable for even the House of Commons. From my
perch I looked directly into his face at a distance of not many feet
as he confronted the Irish crowd. Rather short of stature, he was