On this bench there were gathered together a number
of the younger members of the Tory party.
[Sidenote: The claque in Parliament.]
At once it was seen what had taken place; the Tories, stung to action by
the taunts of their own press, had concerted a new system of tactics.
And one portion of these tactics was to introduce into the House of
Commons a phenomenon new to even its secular and varied
experience--namely, an organized claque. It was really just as if one
were in a French theatre. Uniformly, regularly, with a certain
mechanical and hollow effect underneath its bellowings, the group below
the gangway uttered its war notes. Beyond all question, recognizable by
the unmistakable family features, it was there--the organized theatrical
claque on the floor of the British House of Commons. There were other
indications of the transformation on which the Tories were determined.
When Mr. Seton-Karr sate down after a palpably obstructive speech, Mr.
Bartley got up, and several other Tories at the same time. Mr. Bartley
is not an attractive personality. He has a very strong rather than
pleasant or intellectual face. There is plenty of bulldog tenacity in
it--plenty of animal courage, plenty of self-confidence; but it has none
of the rays of a strong intelligence, and not many glimpses of
kindliness or sweetness of nature.
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