as a member of the House, but as a soldier. He
gets no further. The Chamber is already filled with shouts and
jeers. "_Maul halten_!" (shut your mouth!) bursts from a dozen
places in the Conservative and rational Liberal and Centre benches.
"'_Raus mit ihm!" (throw him out!) is another angry taunt which I
can distinguish in the bedlam. Liebknecht has been howled down
many times before under similar circumstances. He is not terrified
to-day, though his face is pale with excitement and anger. He
stands his ground. His right arm is extended, a finger levelled
accusingly at the Right and Centre from which imprecations,
unceasingly, are being snarled at him. But he cannot make himself
heard amid the uproar.

A Socialist colleague intervenes, Ledebour, a thin, grey-haired,
actor-like person, of ascetic mien and resonant voice. "Checking
free speech is an evil custom of this House," declares Ledebour.
"Papa" Kaempf clangs his big hand-bell. He rules out "such
improper expressions as 'evil custom' in this high House." Ledebour
is the Reichstag's master of repartee. He rejoins
smilingly:--"Very well, not an 'evil custom,' but not altogether a
pleasant custom." Now the House is howling Ledebour down. He,
too, has weathered such storms before. He waits, impassive and
undismayed, for a lull in the cyclone. It comes. "Wait, wait!" he
thunders. "My friend Liebknecht and I, and others like us, have a
great following. You grievously underestimate that following.
Some day you will realise that. Wait----" Ledebour, like
Liebknecht, can no longer proceed. The House is now boiling, an
indistinguishable and most undignified pandemonium. I can detect
that there is considerable ironical laughter mixed with its
indignation. Members are not taking Ledebour's threat seriously.

Liebknecht has temporarily returned to his seat under cover of the
tornado provoked by Ledebour's intervention, but now I see him
stealthily crawling, dodging, almost panther-like, back to the
steps of the tribune. He is bent upon renewing the attempt to
raise his voice above the hostile din. The sight of him unchains
the House's fury afresh. The racket is increased by the mad
ding-donging of "Papa" Kaempf, trying hopelessly to restore a
semblance of quiet. It is useless. The House will not subside
until Liebknecht is driven from the speakers' tribune. He is not
to have even the chance of the lull which enabled Ledebour to say a
pertinen