[Sidenote: Father and son.]
Mr. Chamberlain might have been seen in two very different characters in
the course of that same evening. He is not a soft man--amid sympathetic
sniggers from all the House, Mr. Morley at a later stage referred
sarcastically to the "milk of human kindness" which flowed so copiously
in his veins--but he is a man of strong and warm domestic affections. He
has the proud privilege of having in the House of Commons not only a
son, but one who, in many respects, seems the very facsimile of himself,
for the likeness between Mr. Austen Chamberlain and his father is
startlingly close. This likeness is heightened by the similarity of
dress--by the single eyeglass that is worn perennially in both cases,
and, to a certain extent, by the walk. When the son began to speak this
Tuesday night, there was even a stronger sense of the resemblance
between the two. The voice was almost the same, the gestures were the
same--the diction was not unlike--nearly all the tricks and mannerisms
of the elder man were reproduced by the younger. For instance, when he
is going to utter a good point, Mr. Chamberlain makes a pause--the son
does the same: when Mr.
Pages:
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210