then. In the first two or three years which I recall in
these pages Mr. Bright was making his last appearance in grand political
opera. He was in the Government, but although he assured the House that
"he was not going to turn his back upon himself"--an assertion of his
powers as a contortionist I endeavoured to depict in _Punch_ the
following week--Mr. Bright had practically turned his back upon making
great oratorical displays. The Bradlaugh scandal was in 1881 the subject
of the hour, and it was whilst appearing for Mr. Bradlaugh's benefit, on
the occasion of one of the numerous matinees arranged by the elected for
Northampton, that Mr. Bright used the words. But on no occasion in my
memory did he rise in a full-dress debate to make one of those grand
efforts with which his name will ever be remembered as the great orator.

Statesmanship was not so much to him as speechifying. He was not a
diplomatist such as Beaconsfield, a tactician like Mr. Gladstone, a
fearless, dashing debater like Lord Derby the elder, "The Rupert of
Debate"; nor had he the weight of Lord Salisbury, nor the aestheticism of
Mr. Balfour. But as a mere voice in the political opera he had a charm
above them all. In appearance he was commonplace compared with these
others I have mentioned. Often the most indifferent-looking horse in the
stable or in the paddock is the best in action. You would not give L40
for some standing at ease; but in action, moving to perfection, with
fire and speed and staying power, the price is more like L20,000. Mr.
Bright never got into his stride at any time or in any event while he
came under my observation.

[Illustration: THE MEET AT ST. STEPHEN'S.]

These equine remarks about a great politician bring to mind a protest I
received about a drawing of mine, which appeared a year or two ago,
representing Mr. Gladstone as a Grand Old Horse, hearing the horn at the
meet, cantering towards his companions in so many runs in which he had
taken the lead, and for which his day had gone. The protest came from a
Quaker, horrified at my depicting Mr. Gladstone as a gee-gee! as if he
had not been so depicted often enough before.

Jacob Bright was the very antithesis to his brother, both in appearance
and manner--tall, of a nervous, wiry frame, rigid face, severe
expression. He, like others without a spark of humour, was often the
means of unconscious merriment. For instance, when Lord Randolph
Churchill was Member for Woodstock,