While the unaccustomed ears of Europe were shocked at the shrill cries from the rival conventions at Chicago and Baltimore, there was equal turbulence in the Italian Parliament at Rome.  There were shouts and catcalls and every sign of uncontrollable violence.  What are the “reasons annexed” to all this uproar?  I do not know.  In Budapest such unparliamentary expressions as “swine,” “liar,” “thief,” and “assassin” were freely used in debate.  An honorable member who had been expelled for the use of too strong language, returned to “shoot up” the House.  The chairman, after dodging three shots, declared that he must positively insist on better order.

In the German Reichstag a member threatens the Kaiser with the fate of Charles the First, if he does not speedily mend his ways.  He suggests as a fit Imperial residence the castle where the Mad King of Bavaria was allowed to exercise his erratic energies without injury to the commonweal.  At the mention of Charles the First the chamber was in an uproar, and amid a tumult of angry voices the session was brought to a close.

In Russia, unseemly clamor is kept from the carefully guarded ears of the Czar.  There art conspires with nature to produce peace.  We read of the Czar’s recent visit to his ancient capital:  “The police during the previous night made three thousand arrests.  The Czar and Czarina drove through the city amid the ringing of bells, and with banners flying.”

On reading this item the American reader plucks up heart.  If, during the Chicago convention, the police had made three thousand arrests the sessions might have been as quiet as those of the Duma.

Even the proceedings of the British House of Commons are disappointing to the pilgrim in search of decorum.  The Mother of Parliaments has trouble with her unruly brood.

We enter the sacred precincts as a Member rises to a point of order.

“I desire to ask your ruling, Mr. Speaker, as to whether the honorable gentleman is entitled to allude to Members of the House as miscreants.”

The Speaker:  “I do not think the term ‘miscreant’ is a proper Parliamentary expression.”

This is very elementary teaching, but it appears that Mr. Speaker is not infrequently compelled to repeat his lesson.  It is “line upon line and precept upon precept.”

The records of the doings of the House contain episodes which would be considered exciting in Arizona.  We read:  “For five minutes the Honorable George Lansbury defied the Speaker, insulted the Prime Minister, and scorned the House of Commons.  He raved in an ecstasy of passion; challenging, taunting, and defying.”  The trouble began with a statement of Mr. Asquith’s.  “Then up jumped Mr. Lansbury, his face contorted with passion, and his powerful rasping voice dominating the whole House.  Shouting and waving his arms, he approached the Government Front Bench with a curious crouching gait, like a boxer leaving his corner in the ring.  One or two Liberals on the bench behind Mr. Asquith half rose, but the Prime Minister sat stolidly gazing above the heads of the opposition, his arms folded, and his lips pursed.  Mr. Lansbury had worked himself up into a state of frenzy and, facing the Prime Minister, he shouted, ’You are beneath my contempt!  Call yourself a gentleman!  You ought to be driven from public life.’”