Government—­that counts fourteen on a division; and if only seven or ten more go the same way, there is a majority against Mr. Gladstone, and we are lost.  Mr. Mellor has to answer this fateful question, and everybody cries “Order, order,” which is the House of Commons way of saying that people are very anxious to hear what is about to be said.  Mr. Mellor gives an answer that satisfies Mr. Shaw.  Mr. Dalziel—­another sturdy Scotch Radical—­is also satisfied; and so we have all the Liberal vote, with the single exception of Labby—­who quickly—­furtively—­almost shamefacedly—­rushes off into the Tory lobby.

[Sidenote:  Hoisting the numbers.]

And now the division takes place.  There have been several speeches—­usually of a minute each—­before the final hour comes; but we are all so anxious to know what fate is in store for us, that we cannot stand the strain any longer.  The division—­the division—­let us know the worst.  Be it good, or be it ill—­let it come at once.  The Whips from the two lobbies enter almost simultaneously—­this shows plainly enough that it has been a very near thing; then a dreadful hush as the numbers are announced; we have won—­aye, but we have by only fourteen!  There is a burst of cheers from the Irish Benches; Sir William Harcourt laughs aloud in his triumph; the composure of the Old Man’s face remains unchanged; you see he has gone through a great many things like this; and that great heart and sane mind are prepared for any fate.  Mr. Chamberlain says nothing; but looking into the recesses of his amendment paper, attempts to hide the choking rage of disappointment that has come over him at this final defeat of his brightest hopes of trampling his former friend and his former chief in the dust.

[Sidenote:  A squabble.]

And now comes the squalid sequel to all this glorious and splendid fight—­the disorderly—­the chaotic—­the anarchic scene of the 11th of July.  The whole thing began simply enough.  Mr. Brodrick, the son of an Irish landlord—­a very light, though very serious young man—­managed in the course of his speech to speak of the people from whom he springs as “impecunious and garrulous.”  At first nobody took any notice of what was probably a mere mauvaise plaisanterie; and the incident would have passed altogether had not Mr. Brodrick immediately afterwards made a more direct appeal to the Irish Members.  This elicited from Mr. Sexton the retort that he need not make any appeal to the Irish Benches after the “grossly rude” allusion he had made to the Irish people.  On this there was a mild hubbub on the Tory Benches.  The House was very thin and very listless, and really not in the mood to take anything very tragically.  But Mr. Sexton resolutely refused to withdraw unless Mr. Brodrick gave the example.  Mr. Mellor then—­acting somewhat precipitately—­ruled that Mr. Sexton was out of order, and should withdraw his words.

[Sidenote:  Mr. Sexton defies the chair.]