Mr. Bowles’ interleaved copy of the Bill with every line, every sentence, every word, carefully weighed and annotated was a monument of industry. So profound was this talented man’s study of its provisions that no flaw in its harness could escape him. There is no denying that he was Harcourt’s great danger; but the Bill had been very carefully drawn; there might be a good many amendments, but there was no possibility of altering its principles. There was, however, a moment when Sir William was almost in despair of being able to pass his Bill. He relied greatly upon the profound legal knowledge of Sir John Rigby, the Attorney General, who was his right-hand man in the conduct of the Bill. Sir John Rigby was to be raised to the Bench—and Sir William looked upon his loss as fatal—he even, according to Lord Tweedmouth, who had a way of letting cats out of bags, went so far as to tell the Cabinet that he must drop the Bill. As a matter of fact that very loss saved the Bill. Sir John Rigby might be a great lawyer but he was ineffective in the House. A rather ridiculous appearance likened to that of pantaloon in a pantomime, and a manner that was anything but dignified, marred his ability. The urbanity and general popularity of Sir Robert Reid (Lord Loreburn) who succeeded him proved to be a godsend to the Chancellor and the measure was never in danger. I myself had the good fortune to secure one of the rare amendments. In Committee I ventured to plead for the exemption of legacies to schools and universities. Sir William in the most friendly way yielded in the case of the universities, but when I pressed him upon the subject of schools he was obdurate. The curious thing was that not one of the members for universities took up the matter. They sat there silent and uncaring, and did not even back me up or thank me for having succeeded in doing what was obviously their special duty and not mine. For three months we fought ding-dong, and in the end, of course, the big battalions won, though with severe gaps in their serried ranks. “Never mind,” said our men, “when we come into power again we shall put all that straight.” I knew better. The ruin of families is a matter of small account in the eyes of a Chancellor who is framing a Budget. The death duties had come to stay, and in staying, grow. After the emotions of the Home Rule Bill and the thirteen months’ session, the Parish Councils and the Death Duties Bills, the session of 1895 seemed very insipid. It reminded me of the flesh of the penguins in the “Swiss Family Robinson,” which the father pronounced to be “une viande fade” (translated by one of my brothers seventy years ago and more, “fade viands”).