I had the greatest admiration for Mr. Chamberlain. I made his acquaintance first at dinner at Sir Charles Dilke’s in 1874, and often met him afterwards. His talk was always good to listen to: the short, crisp, incisive sentences which were so characteristic of his public speeches were equally attractive in private conversation, and he had a voice which was a mine of wealth in itself. I have rarely heard a more fascinating utterance than his. The language was extraordinarily good; there never seemed to be a syllable too much and every word told. I thought his talk more pleasing than that of John Bright—though that is saying a great deal. But in Bright there was always a certain assumption of superior righteousness—the sort of patronizing manner that made him say to Lord Clarendon when he was staying at The Grove: “Now this is the sort of estate to which I do not object.” Lord Randolph Churchill once mercilessly ridiculed the self-righteous manner of John Bright. At a time when Bright had more or less retired out of the fighting line, he interrupted Randolph in the middle of a speech. Randolph turned upon him as if he had been suddenly awakened out of a long sleep. “The Right Honourable gentleman interrupts me—I thought that he was no longer to be reckoned with—but let him wait! I will tear from him those robes of righteousness in which he loves to exhibit himself to his constituents, and he shall appear before them naked and ashamed!” I am quoting from memory, but I do not think that I am far out. Chamberlain could dispute a point, and did dispute many points with many men, and the victory in argument, at any rate, was pretty sure to be with him, but he fought on equal terms, claiming no superior vantage-ground from which to attack. To me he was a wonderfully attractive personality, and when he was stricken down I felt that it was a cruel blow to the British Constitution. Had he been spared to us the state of home politics would have been very different now. It was a tragedy which deprived of utterance him to whom utterance meant so much—and not to him alone. The two Irishmen for whom I conceived the greatest respect at that time were Mr. John Redmond and Mr. Tim Healy, though I knew neither of them.