The Irish first conceived the idea of using their order-papers as funnels wherewith to reach the correct ‘vroom—­vroom’ on ‘Earth.’  Labour, always conservative and respectable at a crisis, stood out longer than any other section, but when it came in it was howling syndicalism.  Then, without distinction of Party, fear of constituents, desire for office, or hope of emolument, the House sang at the tops and at the bottoms of their voices, swaying their stale bodies and epileptically beating with their swelled feet.  They sang ’The Village that voted the Earth was flat’:  first, because they wanted to, and secondly—­which is the terror of that song—­because they could not stop.  For no consideration could they stop.

Pallant was still standing up.  Some one pointed at him and they laughed.  Others began to point, lunging, as it were, in time with the tune.  At this moment two persons came in practically abreast from behind the Speaker’s chair, and halted appalled.  One happened to be the Prime Minister and the other a messenger.  The House, with tears running down their cheeks, transferred their attention to the paralysed couple.  They pointed six hundred forefingers at them.  They rocked, they waved, and they rolled while they pointed, but still they sang.  When they weakened for an instant, Ireland would yell:  ‘Are ye with me, bhoys?’ and they all renewed their strength like Antaeus.  No man could say afterwards what happened in the Press or the Strangers’ Gallery.  It was the House, the hysterical and abandoned House of Commons that held all eyes, as it deafened all ears.  I saw both Front Benches bend forward, some with their foreheads on their despatch-boxes, the rest with their faces in their hands; and their moving shoulders jolted the House out of its last rag of decency.  Only the Speaker remained unmoved.  The entire press of Great Britain bore witness next day that he had not even bowed his head.  The Angel of the Constitution, for vain was the help of man, foretold him the exact moment at which the House would have broken into ’The Gubby.’  He is reported to have said:  ’I heard the Irish beginning to shuffle it.  So I adjourned.’  Pallant’s version is that he added:  ’And I was never so grateful to a private member in all my life as I was to Mr. Pallant.’

He made no explanation.  He did not refer to orders or disorders.  He simply adjourned the House till six that evening.  And the House adjourned—­some of it nearly on all fours.

I was not correct when I said that the Speaker was the only man who did not laugh.  Woodhouse was beside me all the time.  His face was set and quite white—­as white, they told me, as Sir Thomas Ingell’s when he went, by request, to a private interview with his Chief Whip.

THE PRESS