or Society and the
Freemasons. At this thrust there was a terrible hubbub in the House, and
that fanaticism with which the Mason holds to his institution was
aroused; indeed, for a little while, the scene was Bedlam-like in its
passion and anarchy. In the midst of it all, facing the violent howls of
the excited Tories, pale, disturbed, hotly angry underneath all the
composure of language and tone, Mr. Gladstone exposed the shameful and
entirely groundless misrepresentation. Mr. Balfour's better angel
intervened; he got ashamed of himself, and at once apologized. But the
hurricane of passion which had been let loose was not to be so easily
appeased; and when, presently, Mr. John Morley put an end to the
ridiculous and irrelevant discussion which threatened to land the House
of Commons into the consideration of the arcana of a Freemason's Lodge,
there burst from the Tory benches one of the fiercest little storms of
remonstrance I have ever heard. When the closure is proposed, there is
but one way of expressing emotion. Under the rules of the House, the
motion must be put without debate. So when the word of doom is
pronounced by the Minister, all that remains is for the Speaker or
Chairman to refuse or accept the motion; and if he accept the motion, he
simply rises, and, uttering the fateful words, "The question is that the
motion be now put," guillotines all further speech. But then he has to
put the question, and in the answering words of "Aye" or "No," there can
be put an immense fund of passion. So it was that night. The answering
"Noes" reached the proportions of a cyclone; you could see men shrieking
out the word again and again, almost beside themselves with rage, and
with faces positively distorted by the intensity of their feelings. And
the tempest did not end in a moment; again and again the Tories shouted
their hoarse and tempestuous, and angry "No, no!"--the word sometimes
repeated like a volley: "No, no-o-o, no-o-o-o-o!"--this was the noise
that rose on the Parliamentary air, and that gave vent to all the
passion which had been excited. And then came the division and a
restoration of calm.

[Sidenote: Charwomen and ratcatchers.]

The Whip is a cunning dog, especially if he be the Whip of the party in
power; and you have to be a long time in Parliament before you know all
his wiles, and fully appreciate their meaning. For instance, few
innocent outsiders would understand why it is that the Whip always puts
do