The Mother of Parliaments
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Title: The Mother of Parliaments
Author: Harry Graham
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOTHER OF PARLIAMENTS ***
THE MOTHER OF PARLIAMENTS
[Illustration: THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT]
THE MOTHER OF
PARLIAMENTS
BY
HARRY GRAHAM
AUTHOR OF "A GROUP OF SCOTTISH WOMEN"
WITH TWENTY ILLUSTRATIONS
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY
1911
TO
MY WIFE
PREFACE
The history of England's Parliament is the history of the English
people. To the latter it must consequently prove a source of
never-failing interest. That it does so is clearly shown by the long
list of writers who have sought and found inspiration in the subject.
To add to their number may perhaps seem an unnecessary, even a
superfluous, task. This volume may indeed be likened to that "Old
Piece in a New Dress" to which Petyt compared his _Lex Parliamentaria_.
"These things, men will say, have been done before; the same Matter,
and much the same Form, are to be found in other Writers, and this is
but to obtrude upon the World a vain Repetition of other men's
observations." But although the frank use of secondhand matter cannot
in this case be denied, it is to be hoped that even the oldest and
most threadbare material may be woven into a fresh pattern, suitable
to modern taste.
In these democratic days a seat in either House of Parliament is no
longer the monopoly of a single privileged class: it lies within the
reach of all who can afford the luxury of representing either
themselves or their fellows at Westminster. It is therefore only
natural that the interest in parliamentary affairs should be more
widely disseminated to-day than ever. It does not confine itself to
actual or potential members of both Houses, but is to be found in the
bosom of the humblest constituent, and even of that shadowy individual
vaguely referred to as the Man in the Street. Though, however, the
interest in Parliament is widespread, a knowledge of parliamentary
forms, of the actual conduct of business in either House, of the
working of the parliamentary machine, is less universal.
At the present time the sources of information open to the student of
parliamentary history may roughly be regarded as twofold. For the
earnest scholar, desirous of examining the basis and groundwork of the
Constitution, the birth and growth of Parliament, the gradual
extension and development of its power, its privileges and procedure,
the writings of all the great English historians, and of such
parliamentary experts as Hatsell, May, Palgrave, Sir William Anson,
Sir Courtenay Ilbert and Professor Redlich, provide a rich mine of
information. That more considerable section of the reading public
which seeks to be entertained rather than instructed, can have its
needs supplied by less technical but no less able parliamentary
writers--Sir Henry W. Lucy, Mr. T. P. O'Connor, Mr. MacDonagh--none of
whom, as a rule, attempts to do more than touch lightly upon
fundamental Constitutional questions.
The idea of combining instruction with amusement is one from which
every normal-minded being naturally shrinks: the attempt generally
results in the failure either to inform or entertain. There does,
however, seem to be room for a volume on the subject of Parliament
which shall be sufficiently instructive to appeal to the student, and
yet not so technical as to alarm or repel the general reader. It is
with the object of supplying the need for such a book that the
following pages have been written.
An endeavour to satisfy the tastes of every class of reader and at the
same time to cover the whole field of parliamentary history within the
limits of a single volume, must necessarily lead to many errors of
admission as well as of omission. The material at the disposal of the
author is so vast, and the difficulties of rejection and selection are
equally formidable. Much of the information given must perforce be so
familiar as to appear almost hackneyed. Many of the stories with which
these pages are sprinkled bear upon them the imprint of extreme old
age; they are grey with the cobwebs of antiquity. But while the
epigram of the past is too often the commonplace of the present, the
witty anecdote of one generation, which seems to another to plumb the
uttermost abysses of fatuity, may yet survive to be considered a
brilliant example of humour by a third. The reader, therefore, who
recognises old favourites scattered here and there about the
letterpress, will deride or tolerate them in accordance with the
respect or contempt that he entertains for the antique.
I cannot lay claim to the possession of expert parliamentary
knowledge, though perhaps, after close upon fifteen years' residence
within the precincts of the Palace of Westminster, I may have acquired
a certain intimacy with the life and habits of the Mother of
Parliaments. For my facts I have to a great extent relied upon the
researches of numerous parliamentary writers, past and present, to
whom I have endeavoured to express my indebtedness, not only in
copious footnotes, but also in the complete list of all sources of
information given at the end of this volume. I wish to express my
thanks to the many friends and acquaintances who have so kindly
assisted me with their counsel and encouragement; to Mr. Kenyon, Mr.
Sidney Colvin and the officials of the Print Room and Reading Room at
the British Museum; to Sir Alfred Scott-Gatty, Garter King-at-Arms; to
Mr. Edmund Gosse, Librarian of the House of Lords, and other officers
of both Houses. My thanks are particularly due to Sir Henry Graham,
Clerk of the Parliaments, who placed his unique parliamentary
experience at my disposal, and whose invaluable advice and assistance
have so greatly tended to lighten and facilitate my literary labours.
H. G.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
PREFACE v
I. PARLIAMENT AND PARTY 1
II. THE HOUSE OF LORDS 18
III. THE HOUSE OF COMMONS 39
IV. THE PALACE OF WESTMINSTER 60
V. HIS MAJESTY'S SERVANTS 81
VI. THE LORD CHANCELLOR 103
VII. THE SPEAKER 119
VIII. THE OPENING OF PARLIAMENT 135
IX. RULES OF DEBATE 158
X. PARLIAMENTARY PRIVILEGE AND PUNISHMENT 173
XI. PARLIAMENTARY DRESS AND DEPORTMENT 189
XII. PARLIAMENTARY ELOQUENCE 203
XIII. PARLIAMENT AT WORK (I.) 225
XIV. PARLIAMENT AT WORK (II.) 242
XV. STRANGERS IN PARLIAMENT 259
XVI. PARLIAMENTARY REPORTING 275
SOURCES AND REFERENCES 288
INDEX 299
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT _Frontispiece_
From a Photograph by J. VALENTINE & SONS
FACING
PAGE
THE HOUSE OF LORDS IN 1742 26
From an Engraving by JOHN PINE
THE HOUSE OF COMMONS IN 1742 46
From an Engraving by JOHN PINE
WESTMINSTER HALL IN 1797 62
From an Engraving by C. MOSLEY
THE REMAINS OF ST. STEPHEN'S CHAPEL AFTER THE FIRE OF 1834 72
From a Lithograph after the Drawing by JOHN TAYLOR, JR.
SIR ROBERT WALPOLE 84
From the Painting by FRANCIS HAYMAN, R.A., in the National
Portrait Gallery
CHATHAM 92
From the Painting by WILLIAM HOARE, R.A., in the National
Portrait Gallery
A CABINET MEETING (THE COALITION MINISTRY OF 1854) 100
From the Drawing by SIR JOHN GILBERT
LORD ELDON 114
From the Painting by SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A., in the
National Portrait Gallery
CHARLES ABBOT (LORD COLCHESTER) 124
From the Painting by JOHN HOPPNER, R.A., in the National
Portrait Gallery
THE TREASURY BENCH IN 1863 138
From an Engraving after the Painting by J. PHILIP
THE HOUSE OF COMMONS IN 1910 162
From a Photograph by London Electrotype Agency
THE HOUSE OF COMMONS IN 1835 186
From an Engraving by SAMUEL COUSINS from the Painting
by H. W. BURGESS
HENRY BROUGHAM (QUEEN CAROLINE'S ATTORNEY-GENERAL, AFTERWARDS
LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR OF GREAT BRITAIN) 194
From the Painting by JAMES LONSDALE in the National Portrait
Gallery
THE HOUSE OF COMMONS IN WALPOLE'S DAY 200
From the Engraving by A. FOGG
The figures from left to right are:--SIR ROBERT WALPOLE, the RT.
HON. ARTHUR ONSLOW, SYDNEY GODOLPHIN (Father of the House),
SIR JOSEPH JEKYL, COL. ONSLOW, EDWARD STABLES, ESQ. (Clerk of
House of Commons), SIR JAMES THORNHILL, MR. AISKEW (Clerk
Assistant).
EDMUND BURKE 206
From an Engraving by J. WATSON after the Painting by SIR
J. REYNOLDS
RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN 212
From an Engraving by J. HALL after the Painting by SIR
J. REYNOLDS
THE PASSING OF THE REFORM BILL IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS 246
From an Engraving after the Painting by SIR J. REYNOLDS
THE HOUSE OF LORDS IN 1910 268
From a Photograph by London Electrotype Agency
WILLIAM WOODFALL 284
From the Painting by THOMAS BEACH in the National Portrait
Gallery
THE MOTHER OF PARLIAMENTS
CHAPTER I
PARLIAMENT AND PARTY
It has been asserted that the different social conditions of various
peoples have their origin, not so much in climate or parentage, as in
the character of their governments. If that be true, there is little
doubt that the social conditions of England should compare most
favourably with those of sister nations. But the admirable form of
Government to which Englishmen have now long been accustomed, did not
come into existence in the course of a single night. "The resemblance
between the present Constitution and that from which it originally
sprang," says an eighteenth-century writer, "is not much nearer than
that between the most beautiful fly and the abject worm from which it
arose."[1] And the conversion of the chrysalis into the butterfly has
been a slow and troublesome process.
[1] King's "Essay on the English Constitution," p. 17.
Montesquieu, who was an earnest student of the English Constitution,
after reading the treatise of Tacitus on the manners of the early
Germans, declared that it was from them that England had borrowed her
idea of political government. Whether or no this "beautiful system was
first invented in the woods,"[2] as he says, it is certain that we owe
the primary principles of our existing constitution to German
sources. They date back to the earliest days of the first settlements
of Teutons on the Kentish shores.
[2] "The Spirit of Laws." "Works," vol. i. p. 212.
To the word "parliament" many derivations have been assigned. Petyt
explains the name as suggesting that every member of the assembly
which it designates should _parler le ment_ or speak his mind.[3]
Another authority derives it from two Celtic words, signifying to
"speak abundantly"--a meaning which is more applicable in these
garrulous times than it was in days when debate was often punctuated
by lengthy intervals of complete silence.
[3] "Lex Parliamentaria" (1690), p. 1.
Whatever its derivation, the word no doubt referred originally to the
"deep speech" which the kings of old held with their councillors. The
first mention of it, in connexion with a national assembly, occurs in
1246, when it was used by Matthew Prior of a general convocation of
English barons. About thirty years later it appears again in the
preamble to the First Statute of Westminster. It has now come to be
employed entirely to describe that combination of the Three Estates,
the Lords Spiritual, the Lords Temporal and the Commons, which with
the Crown form the supreme legislative government of the country.
The ancient Britons possessed a Parliament of a kind, called the
_Commune Concilium_. Under the Heptarchy each king in England enjoyed
the services of an assembly of wise men--or Witenagemot, as it was
called--which advised him upon matters of national importance. The
Witan sat as a court of justice, formed the Council of the chiefs, and
could impose taxes and even depose the King, though the latter too
often took the whole of their powers into his own hands. When the
separate kingdoms became united, their different Councils were
absorbed into the one great Gemot of Wessex. This, in Anglo-Saxon
times, was a small body, consisting of less than a score of Bishops, a
number of Ealdormen (or heads of the different shires), and certain
vassal members. This senate was undoubtedly the germ of all future
systems of Parliamentary government; and though for the first two
hundred years after the Conquest there is no historical record of the
meeting of any body corresponding to our present Parliament, from the
days of the Witenagemot to our own times the continuity of our
national assemblies has never been broken.
The parliamentary historian suffers much from the lack of early
records. None were kept in Anglo-Saxon times, the judgments of the
Witan being only recorded in the memory of the judges themselves. The
Rolls of Parliament begin with the year 1278--though the first mention
of the Commons does not occur until 1304--and somewhere about Edward
III.'s reign was written a volume called the "Vetus Codex" or "Black
Book" which contains transcripts of various parliamentary proceedings.
At the time of the restoration of Charles II., Prynne, the
antiquarian, set himself the task of exhuming old records, and
catalogued nearly a hundred parcels of ancient writs, private
petitions, and returns. The MSS. which he worked upon were so dirty
that he could not induce any one else to clean them, and was forced to
labour alone. Wearing a nightcap over his eyes, to keep out the dust,
and fortified by continual draughts of ale, he proceeded cheerfully
with this laborious undertaking upon which he finally based the book
which has made him famous.[4]
[4] "A Brief Register of Parliamentary Writs" (1664).
The House of Commons Journals begin with Edward VI. those of the Lords
at the accession of Henry VIII. And though during the early part of
the seventeenth century speeches were reported at some length in the
Commons Journals, in the Lords only the Bills read and such matters
are recorded.[5] The material to work upon is consequently of an
exiguous nature, until we reach the later days of freedom of the Press
and publicity of debates.
[5] Elsynge, Clerk of the Parliaments in the seventeenth century, took
notes of the Lords' speeches, which have been published by the Camden
Society (1870-1879).
The history of Parliament proper divides itself naturally into four
distinct periods. The first may be said to stretch from the middle of
the thirteenth to nearly the end of the fifteenth century; the second
dates from the accession of Henry VII., and extends to the Revolution
of 1688. The remaining century and a half, up to the Reform Bill of
1832, forms the third period; and with the passing of that momentous
Act commences the last and most important epoch of all.
During the first two periods of parliamentary history, the whole
authority of government was vested in the Crown; during the third it
gradually passed into the possession of the aristocracy: and it is
only within the last century that the people, through their
representatives in the House of Commons, have gained a complete
political ascendency.
From the days of the absolute monarchy of Norman sovereigns until the
reign of King John, the Crown, the Church, the Barons, and the people,
were always struggling with each other; in that reign the three last
forces combined against the King. The struggle was never subsequently
relaxed, but it took over six centuries to transfer the governing
power of the country from the hands of one individual to that of the
whole people.
Prior to the reign of Henry III., no regular legislative assembly
existed, though the King would occasionally summon councils of the
great men of the land for consultative purposes. In William the
Conqueror's time the ownership of land became the qualification for
the Witenagemot, and the National Council which succeeded that
assembly thus became a Council of the King's feudal vassals, and not
necessarily an assembly of wise men. When, however, Simon de Montford
overthrew Henry III. at Lewes, he summoned a convocation which
included representative knights and burgesses, and the parliamentary
system, thus instituted, was subsequently adopted by Edward I. "Many
things have changed," says Dr. Gardiner in his "History of England,"
"but in all main points the Parliament of England, as it exists at
this day, is the same as that which gathered around the great
Plantagenet." The first full Parliament in English history may,
therefore, be said to have been summoned by Edward I. on November 13,
1295, and represented every class of the people.
Parliament thereafter gradually resolved itself into two separate
groups; on the one hand the barons and prelates, representing the
aristocracy and the Church, on the other the knights and burgesses,
representing the county freeholders, citizens and boroughfolk. The
former constituted a High Court of Justice and final Court of Appeal;
the chief duty of the latter lay in levying taxes, and they were not
usually summoned unless the Crown were in need of money. These two
component groups originally sat together, forming a collective
assembly from which the modern Parliament has gradually developed.
In the early days of Parliament the Lords came to be regarded as the
King's Council, over which he presided in person; the Commons occupied
a secondary and insignificant position. The power of legislating was
entirely in the hands of the King, who framed whatever laws he deemed
expedient, acting on the humble petition of his people. The Crown thus
exercised absolute control over Parliament, and the royal yoke was not
destined to be thrown off for many hundreds of years.
In the reign of Edward III., the meetings of Parliament were uncertain
and infrequent; its duration was brief. Three or four Parliaments
would be held every year, and only sat for a few weeks at a time. The
King's prerogative to dissolve Parliament whenever he so desired--"of
all trusts vested in his majesty," as Burke says, "the most critical
and delicate"[6] was one of which mediæval monarchs freely availed
themselves in the days when Parliament had not yet found, nor indeed
realised, its potential strength.
[6] "Works and Correspondence," vol. iii. p. 525. (The power to
dissolve Parliament is still theoretically in the hands of the
Sovereign; practically it is in those of the Cabinet. Parliament has
only been dissolved once by the Sovereign since the beginning of the
eighteenth century.)
During the reigns of the Tudors and Stuarts, the power of the Crown
was still supreme, though many attempts were made to weaken it. This
second period of history, between 1485 and 1688, was a time of
peculiar political stress, in which Parliament and the Crown were
engaged in a perpetual conflict. Kings maintained their influence by a
mixture of threats and cajolery which long proved effective. In 1536,
for instance, we find Henry VIII. warning the House of Commons that,
unless some measure in which he was interested were passed, certain
members of that assembly would undoubtedly lose their heads.[7]
[7] Oldfield's "History of Great Britain and Ireland," vol. i.
p. 280.
The Stuart kings were in the habit of suborning members of both
Houses, by the gift of various lucrative posts or the lavish
distribution of bribes. It was ever the royal desire to weaken
Parliament, and this end was attained in a variety of ways. In the
early part of the seventeenth century, we hear of Charles I. summoning
to Hampton Court certain members whose loyalty he distrusted or whose
absence from Parliament he desired. On one such occasion the Earls of
Essex and Holland refused to obey his command, saying that their
parliamentary writ had precedence of any royal summons--an expression
of independence for which they were dismissed from the Court.[8]
[8] May's "A Breviary of the History of Parliament" (1680), p. 21.
In the time of Charles II. a definite system of influencing members of
Parliament by gifts of money was first framed, Lord Clifford, the Lord
Treasurer, being allowed a sum of £10,000 for the purpose. The fact of
holding an appointment in the pay of the Crown was in itself
considered sufficient to bind a member to vote in accordance with the
royal will. In 1685, when many members who were in the Government
service threatened to vote against the Court, Middleton, the Secretary
of State, bitterly reproached them with breach of faith. "Have you not
a troop of horse in his Majesty's service?" he asked of a certain
Captain Kendall. "Yes, my lord," was the reply, "but my brother died
last night and left me £700 a year!"[9]
[9] Burnet's "History of His Own Times," vol. iii. p. 92 n.
Andrew Marvell has drawn a vivid but disagreeable picture of the
Parliament which was summoned immediately after the Restoration. Half
the members of the House of Commons he described as "court
cullies"--the word "to cully" meaning apparently to befool or
cheat--and in "A list of the Principal Labourers in the great Design
of Popery and Arbitrary Law," gives a catalogue of the names of over
two hundred members of Parliament who received presents from the Court
at this time.[10]
[10] _E.g._, "Sir Edward Turner, who for a secret service had lately a
bribe of £4000, as in the Exchequer may be seen, and about £2000
before; and made Lord Chief Baron.
"Sir Stephen Fox--once a link boy; then a singing boy at Salisbury;
then a serving man; and permitting his wife to be common beyond sea,
at the Restoration was made Paymaster of the Guards, where he has
cheated £100,000, and is one of the Green Cloth." "Flagellum
Parliamentarium," pp. 10 and 24.
The independence of Parliament was first asserted by that staunch old
patriot Sir John Eliot, who, during the reign of Charles I., declared
to the Commons that they "came not thither either to do what the King
should command them, nor to abstain when he forbade them; they came to
continue constant, and to maintain their privileges."[11] But in spite
of such brave words, the power of the Crown was not finally subdued
until the Revolution.
[11] Forster's "Life of Sir John Eliot," vol. i. p. 529.
The downfall of the Monarchy at the time of the Commonwealth was
followed by the temporary abolition of both Lords and Commons, the
latter disappearing in company with Cromwell's famous "bauble." The
Protector then proceeded to call together a body of "nominees," one
hundred and forty in number, who represented the various counties in
proportion to the amount of taxes each of these contributed. Of the
seven nominees supplied by London, Praise God Barebones, a Fleet
Street leather merchant, gave his name to the Parliament thus
assembled. Cromwell also created a new House of Lords, numbering about
sixty.[12]
[12] See "Journal of the Protectorate House of Lords, from the
original MS. in the possession of Lady Tangye, January 20, 1657, to
April 22, 1659." House of Lords MSS. vol. iv. new series, p. 503.
With the Restoration the Crown resumed much of its former power. In
1682 the publisher of a reprint of Nathaniel Bacon's "Historical
Discourse," which declared that Kings could "do nothing as Kings but
that of Right they ought to do," and that though they might be "Chief
Commanders, yet they are not Chief Rulers," was outlawed for these
treasonable statements. It was not, indeed, until the Revolution of
1688 that the royal influence was curtailed, so small a revenue being
allowed to William III. that the ordinary expenses of government could
not be defrayed without assembling Parliament.
The attendance of the King in Parliament had been usual in early days,
but the Commons always deprecated the presence of the Sovereign in
their midst. Charles I. affords the only example of a monarch
attending a debate in the Lower House, when on that famous 4th of
January, 1642, he marched from Whitehall to Westminster, with the
intention of arresting the five leading members, Hampden, Pym, Holles,
Haselrig and Strode, authors of the Grand Remonstrance, whom he had
caused to be impeached on the preceding afternoon. The House had been
put upon its guard by Lady Carlisle, and on the eventful day, a French
officer, Hercule Langres, made his way to Westminster and warned Pym
and his colleagues of the approach of the royal troops. When therefore
the King arrived he found that his birds had already flown, and was
compelled to retire empty-handed, amid cries of "Privilege!" from
members of the outraged assembly.
In those times the desire of the Commons was to keep the Crown as
ignorant as possible on the subject of their doings. The habit of
providing the King with a daily account of Parliamentary proceedings
did not come into fashion until the end of the eighteenth century,
when the House was no longer afraid of the royal power.
The Lords have never objected as strongly as the Commons to the royal
presence. Charles II. often found the time hang heavy on his hands,
and would stroll down to the Upper House, "as a pleasant diversion."
He began by sitting quietly on the Throne, listening to the debates.
Later on he took to standing by the fireplace of the Lords, where he
was soon surrounded by many persons anxious to gain the royal ear, and
thus "broke all the decency of that House."[13] Since the accession of
Queen Anne, however, no Sovereign has been present in Parliament, save
at the opening or closing ceremonies. But long after kings had ceased
to attend Parliament in person they continued to attempt the control
of its proceedings. George III. finally brought matters to a head by
his perpetual interference with the affairs of the Commons, and caused
the passing of that momentous resolution, moved by Dunning on April 6,
1780, "that the influence of the Crown has increased, is increasing,
and ought to be diminished," which disturbed if it could not vex Dr.
Johnson.[14]
[13] Burnet's "History of His Own Time," vol. i. p. 184.
[14] "Public affairs vex no man," said Dr. Johnson, when asked whether
he were not annoyed by this vote. "I have never slept an hour less,
nor eat an ounce less meat. I would have knocked the factious dogs on
the head, to be sure; but I was not _vexed_."
Between 1688 and 1832 political life in England was excessively
corrupt. Parliament had grown to a certain extent independent of the
Crown, but had not yet learnt to depend upon public opinion. It was
consequently a difficult body to deal with, and had to be managed by a
system of open bribery which first showed itself most conspicuously in
the shape of retaining fees paid to Scottish members.[15] In 1690 the
practice of regularly bribing members of the House of Commons was
undertaken by the Speaker, Sir John Trevor, on behalf of the Tory
party. In Queen Anne's reign a statesman paid thousands of pounds for
the privilege of being made Secretary of State, and a few years later
we find Sir Robert Walpole assuring a brother of Lord Gower that he
knew the price of every man but three in the House of Lords.[16]
[15] Boswell's "Life of Johnson," p. 731. (Cromwell had already
stigmatized Scotland as corrupt. He had been told, he said, that it
was a poor country inhabited by honest people, but found that the
country was not poor and the people anything but honest.)
[16] Dr. King's "Anecdotes of His Own Time," p. 44.
Bribery no longer emanated direct from the Crown, but was practised
vicariously by the King through his ministers. They might object to
the system, but, as King William once said to Bishop Burnet, they had
to do with "a set of men who must be managed in this vile way or not
at all."[17] Macaulay likens the Parliament of that time to a pump
which, though it may appear dry, will, if a little water is poured
into it, produce a great flow. So, he says, £10,000 given in bribes to
Parliament would often produce a million in supplies.[18] Even Pelham,
a man of unblemished reputation in private life, saw the absolute
necessity of distributing bribes right and left. And in 1782 we find
Lord North writing to George III. to remind him that "the last general
election cost near £50,000 to the Crown, beyond which expense there
was a pension of £1000 a year to Lord Montacute and £500 a year to Mr.
Selwyn for their interest at Midhurst and Luggershall."[19]
[17] "History of His Own Time," vol. ii. p. 76.
[18] "History," vol. iii. p. 545.
[19] "Correspondence of George III. and Lord North," vol. ii. p. 425.
Seats in Parliament were regularly bought and sold, the price varying
from £1500 to as much as £7000. Flood, the Irish politician, purchased
a seat in the English House of Commons for £4000. The notoriously
corrupt borough of Gatton was publicly advertised for sale in 1792,
with the power of nominating two representatives for ever, described
by the auctioneer as "an elegant contingency."[20] This same seat was
sold in 1831 by Sir Mark Wood for the huge sum of £60,000, and the
purchaser's feelings may well be imagined when, under the Reform Act
of the following year, the borough was disfranchised and rendered
worthless.[21]
[20] Bell's "Life of Canning," p. 347.
[21] Mark Boyd's "Social Gleanings," p. 246.
Parliament was for long in the hands of a few rich persons. Wealthy
individuals would buy property in small boroughs in order to increase
their political influence, and cared little for the fitness of the
representatives whom they nominated. The story is told of a peer being
asked who should be returned for one of his boroughs, and casually
mentioning a waiter at White's Club whom he did not even know by name.
The waiter was duly elected, and, for aught we know, may have made a
most worthy and excellent member of Parliament.[22]
[22] Russell's "Recollections," p. 35.
In 1815 the House of Commons contained 471 members who were the
creatures of 144 peers and 123 Commoners. Sixteen representatives were
Government nominees; and only 171 members were actually elected by the
popular vote.[23] Five years later nearly half the House were returned
by peers.[24]
[23] Oldfield's "Representative History," vol. vi., App.
[24] "The Black Book," vol. i. p. 430.
The passing of the Septennial Act in 1716, in place of the Triennial
Act of 1694, though meeting with much hostile criticism,[25] had
helped to further that growing independence of both Lords and Crown
which was the chief aim of the Commons. Before the Triennial Act
Parliament could only be dissolved by the Crown. Under the Triennial
Act it suffered a natural death three years after the day on which it
was summoned. The Septennial Act lengthened that existence by a
further period of four years. Members were no longer kept in a state
of perpetual anticipation of an imminent General Election; they were
no more harassed by the fear of losing their seats at any moment. With
security came strength, but purity was a long time in following. The
Septennial Act, says Lecky, gave "a new stability to English policy, a
new strength to the dynasty, and a new authority to the House of
Commons." But it certainly did not tend to decrease the corruption
which was then rampant both in Parliament and in the country.
[25] "By the same violence that one Parliament, chosen but for _Three
Years_, could prolong their own sitting for _Seven_, any other may
presume to render themselves perpetual." Ralph's "Uses and Abuses of
Parliament," vol. ii. p. 716.
The whole body politic was, indeed, utterly rotten, and it was only
considered possible to maintain the ministerial influence by a system
of disciplined Treasury corruption. The secret service money with
which votes were bought was in the control of the Prime Minister, and
Walpole is said to have stated that he did not care a rap who made
Members of Parliament so long as he was allowed to deal with them
after they were made. The produce of the taxes descended in
fertilizing showers upon the proprietors, the agents and the members
for boroughs. For them, as Lord John Russell said, the General
Election was a state lottery in which there was nothing but prizes.
"The elector of a borough, or a person he recommends, obtains a
situation in the Customs; the member of Parliament obtains a place in
the Mediterranean for a near relation; the proprietor of the borough
obtains a peerage in perspective; and the larger proprietor, followed
by his attendant members, shines in the summer of royal favour, with a
garter, a regiment, an earldom, or a marquisate."[26] So ingrained had
this idea become in the public mind that the Duke of Wellington is
supposed to have asked ingenuously, on the abolition of the rotten
boroughs, "How will the King's Government be carried on?"
[26] "Essays and Sketches of Life and Character," p. 148.
Several ineffectual efforts had from time to time been made to slay
the monster of corruption. From the days of Cromwell the question of
Parliamentary reform had been anxiously urged by many statesmen,
notably Lord Shaftesbury and Pitt, of whom the latter introduced
reformative measures in 1781, 1782 and 1785. But though Pitt, the
first Prime Minister who did not retain any of the public money for
distribution among his friends and supporters, managed to reduce
"places" worth over £200,000, after the American War, there still
remained any number of inflated pensions and sinecures in the gift of
the Government,[27] and it was not until Parliament came to be
controlled entirely by public opinion that the change from corruption
to purity took place. But notwithstanding many flaws in theory and
blots in practice, the English Parliamentary Constitution prior to the
Reform Bill was, as Mr. Gladstone called it, one of the wonders of the
world. "Time was its parent, silence was its nurse.... It did much
evil and it left much good undone; but it either led or did not lag
behind the national feeling and opinion."[28] With the Reform Act of
1832, Parliament advanced another stage in its career. The House of
Commons definitely shook itself free from the active corruption which
had so long impeded its movements.
[27] For example, one of £7000 for a retired Auditor of the Imprest,
and another of £7300 granted to Lord Bute as some slight compensation
for his loss of office. See Rose's "Influence of the Crown."
[28] "Gleanings of Past Years," vol. i. pp. 134-5.
The principle of Party Government, which now lies at the very root of
our parliamentary system, had its origin during the second period of
parliamentary history, and formed no part of the constitutional scheme
of earlier days.
In Queen Elizabeth's time two definite and distinct parties arose, the
one maintaining the privileges of the Crown, the other upholding the
interests of the people. In Stuart days Cavaliers and Roundheads were
followed by Court and Country Parties, and in the year 1679, when the
Exclusion Bill was being bitterly debated, the distinctive names of
"Whigs" and "Tories" first came into existence. "Whig" was originally
a word applied to the lowland peasantry of the West of Scotland;
thence it came to mean Covenanters, and so politicians who looked
kindly upon Nonconformity. "Tory" was an expression popularly used
with reference to the rebel Irish outlaws who harassed the
Protestants; and thus implied leanings towards Catholicism.[29]
[29] O'Connell showed Pryme an Irish Act of Parliament for the
suppression of "Rapparees, Tories, and other Robbers." Pryme's
"Recollections," p. 231.
The growth of a respect for the people's rights forced politicians to
separate into two sections, and the schism between the rival camps was
still further emphasized by the Revolution of 1688. Regular opposing
parties do not, however, seem to have existed in the Commons until the
eighteenth century, and the party system was not finally established
as a necessary element of constitutional government until the reign of
William III. Kings had hitherto chosen their advisers irrespective of
their political views. William III. was, however, induced by the Earl
of Sunderland to form a Ministry from the party that held a majority
in Parliament, and thus became to a certain extent controlled by that
party.
There have always been, as Macaulay says, under some name or other,
two sets of men, those who are before their age, and those who are
behind it, those who are the wisest among their contemporaries, and
those who glory in being no wiser than their great-grandfathers. But
this definition of the two great political parties of England can no
longer with justice be applied. The Tory of to-day is not at all the
Tory of two hundred years ago: indeed, he rather resembles the Whig of
Queen Anne's time. And though Disraeli continued to use the word
"Tory," and was never ashamed of it, it has now gradually fallen into
disuse, save as a term of reproach on the lips of political opponents.
A change of nomenclature was adopted in 1832. The Tories became
Conservatives, and for the benefit of wavering Whigs it was proposed
that the latter should be known as Liberal-Conservatives, a name
which, as Lord John Russell remarked, expressed in seven syllables
what Whig expressed in one.[30] The term "Radical" did not come into
use until the days of the famous reformer, Francis Place (1771-1854);
his political predecessors contenting themselves with the more modest
name of Patriots. Called by whatever name is popular for the moment,
either party may now claim to come within the scope of Burke's
well-known definition as "a body of men united for promoting, by their
endeavours, the national interest upon some particular principle in
which they are all agreed."
[30] A German writer, Herr Bucher, wrote as follows, in 1855:--"It
would be difficult to give any other definition of the two parties
than that a Whig is a man who is descended from Lord John Russell's
grandmother, a Tory, one who sits behind Disraeli." "Der
Parliamentarismus wie er ist," p. 152.
Our modern parliamentary system comprises the party spirit as its most
vital element, and owes its success to the fact of being government by
party and not by faction.[31] The existence of an admittedly
constitutional body perpetually opposed to the Government of the
day--"His Majesty's Opposition," as it has been called since 1826--is
now recognised as a very necessary portion of the Parliamentary
machine. The principle of fairness to the minority is never lost sight
of, and expresses itself in many different ways. When, for instance,
the Leader of the Opposition gives notice of a motion of censure on
the Government, the latter consider it their duty to accord their
critics an early opportunity for its discussion; and, generally
speaking, the due consideration of the rights of minorities is among
the primary instincts of party government. The excellent effects of
this system are obvious. Of the two ways of obtaining political
adherents the attachment of party is infinitely preferable to the
attachment of personal interest, formerly so prolific a source of
corruption. Party feeling may also be said to have created general
rules of politics, similar to a general code of morals by which a man
may "walk with integrity along the path chosen by his chiefs,
surrounded and supported by his political colleagues."
[31] "I have a maxim," wrote Horace Walpole to his friend Montague in
1760, "that the extinction of party is the origin of faction."
"Letters," vol. iii. 370.
Opposition is invaluable as providing a stern criticism of the
Government's policy; it can also very often be of service to the cause
it is intended to injure. It excites a keener public curiosity, by
directing attention to the motives of those whom it suspects. And "the
reproaches of enemies when refuted are a surer proof of virtue than
the panegyrics of friends."[32] That the system must possess certain
disadvantages is inevitable. It no doubt engenders animosity and
provokes violent contentions: it stimulates politicians to impute to
their opponents corrupt motives which they could not for a moment
imagine themselves capable of entertaining. It may also on occasion
tempt them to continue obstinately in the support of wrong, because
the admission of a mistake would be hailed as a triumph for their
enemies. "The best cause in the world may be conducted into Faction,"
as Speaker Onslow said; "and the best men _may_ become party men, to
whom all things appear lawful, which make for their cause or their
associates."[33] But as a rule the game of politics is played with
commendable fairness and an absence of undue acrimony. The Opposition,
whose well-known duty it is "to oppose everything, to propose nothing,
and to turn out the Government,"[34] rarely makes its attacks the
vehicle for personal spite. Politicians of adverse views do not carry
their antagonism into private life, and off the stage of Parliament
the bitterest opponents are able to exist upon amicable terms.
Occasionally, however, political differences have been the cause of
ruptured friendship. When Burke made a violent attack upon Fox, in
1791, on the Canada Bill, he declared that if necessary he would risk
the latter's lifelong friendship by his firm and steady adherence to
the British Constitution. Fox leaned across and whispered that there
was no loss of friends. "Yes," replied Burke, "there _is_ a loss of
friends. I know the price of my conduct. I have done my duty at the
price of my friend. Our friendship is at an end!" So terminated an
intimacy of twenty-five years' standing. Such an incident may,
nevertheless, be considered exceptional, the relations of antagonists
being usually of a most harmonious kind. Sir Robert Peel and Lord John
Russell would often be seen together engaged in friendly conversation.
O'Connell once walked arm in arm down Whitehall with Hughes Hughes,
the member for Oxford, whose head he had but recently likened to that
of a calf.[35] And the present Prime Minister and Leader of the
Opposition are doubtless able to play bridge or golf together without
actually coming to blows. In spite, therefore, of much criticism, what
Emerson calls "that capital invention of freedom, a constitutional
opposition,"[36] has been found to be the most practical and
satisfactory means of carrying on government.
[32] See Parr's "Discourse on Education," p. 51.
[33] "Anecdotes and other miscellaneous pieces" left by the Rt. Hon.
Arthur Onslow. (From the MS. at Clandon.)
[34] This saying has often been wrongly attributed to Lord Randolph
Churchill. That statesman's most famous maxim on the subject of
Opposition is given in his son's "Life" (p. 188-9): "Whenever by an
unfortunate occurrence of circumstances an Opposition is compelled to
support the Government," said Lord Randolph, "the support should be
given with a kick and not with a caress, and should be withdrawn on
the first available moment."
[35] This was evidently a favourite simile of O'Connell's. He used it
again with reference to Mr. Shaw, member for Dublin University, in the
debate on the resolution for giving a grant to Maynooth College for
the education of Roman Catholics.
[36] "English Traits," p. 46.
CHAPTER II
THE HOUSE OF LORDS
No constitutional principle has been so strongly criticised and so
freely abused as the one embodied in the hereditary chamber which
forms so important a branch of our legislature. Pulteney labelled the
House of Lords a "hospital for invalids"; Burke contemptuously
referred to it as "the weakest part of the Constitution"; Lord
Rosebery has compared it to "a mediæval barque stranded in the tideway
of the nineteenth century." A more democratic modern statesman, who
doubtless hopes--
"To build, not boast, a generous race;
No tenth transmitter of a foolish face,"
has declared the only legislative qualifications of peers to consist
in their being the first-born of persons possessing as little
qualifications as themselves. While another politician cynically
observes that they represent nobody but themselves, and enjoy the full
confidence of their constituents.
The House of Lords has long been the butt of the political satirist,
and parliamentary reformers have attacked it for years patiently and
persistently, hitherto without much success. "We owe the English
Peerage to three sources," said a character in "Coningsby"; "the
spoliation of the Church; the open and flagrant sale of its honours by
the elder Stuarts; and the borough-mongering of our own times." And
this bitter criticism is often quoted to prove the weakness of any
form of hereditary government.
The suggestion that heredity can confer any peculiar qualifications,
rendering a person more fit than his fellows for parliamentary power,
is no doubt illogical, but not more so perhaps than a thousand other
ideas which govern the affairs of men. The form of government by
majority, for instance,--which Pope called "the madness of the many
for the gain of a few"--is obviously open to criticism. Hereditary
legislation has, at any rate in the eyes of its supporters, the merit
of having answered well enough in practice, and, however theoretically
indefensible, is not more so than hereditary kingship. The Sovereign
does not inherit sagacity any more than the Duke of Norfolk, as Lord
John Russell justly observed, and it would be unwise as well as unsafe
to hang the Crown on the peg of an exception. It is as well, however,
to remember that the Sovereign is a constitutional monarch whose
powers nowadays are much restricted, whereas the Lords have the right
to exercise a legislative veto the use of which kings have long since
resigned.
Talent is not hereditary. No man chooses a coachman, as the first Lord
Halifax once remarked, because his father was a coachman before him.
But the descendant of a long line of coachmen is likely to know more
about the care of horses than the grandson of a pork butcher, however
eminent; and the scion of a race of legislators is at least as fully
qualified for the duties of a legislator as many a politician whose
chief reason for entering Parliament is the desire to add the letters
M.P. to his name. Nevertheless, as has been recently pointed out by
tactless statisticians, the great men of the past have but seldom
bequeathed their admirable qualities to their _eldest_ sons, and in a
list of modern statesmen will be found but few of the names once
famous in English history.
The necessity for a second chamber of some sort has always been
admitted, if only to prevent the other House from being exposed to
what John Stuart Mill calls "the corrupting influence of undivided
power," and Cromwell "the horridest arbitrariness that was ever known
in the world." Few, however, of the most ardent admirers of the
hereditary system will pretend that the problem of a perfect bicameral
system is solved by the present House of Lords, though they may
doubtless claim that the cause of its failure does not rest entirely
upon its basis of heredity. "You might as well urge as an objection to
the breakwater that stems the unruly waves of the sea, that it has its
foundations deep laid in another element, and that it does not float
on the surface of that which it is to control," said Palmerston, "as
say that the House of Lords, being hereditary, ought on that account
to be reformed."[37]
[37] In a speech delivered at a banquet in Glasgow on January 13,
1837.
If age can confer dignity and distinction upon any assembly, then must
the House of Lords be peculiarly distinguished, for it is certainly
the most venerable as well as the most antiquated of our Parliamentary
institutions.
When Christianity became firmly established in England, each king of
the Heptarchy was attended by a bishop, whose business it was to
advise his royal master upon religious questions, and who thus
acquired the power of influencing him in other matters as well. The
minor kings were gradually replaced by earls, who were summoned,
together with their attendant bishops, to the Witenagemot of the one
ruling sovereign of the country. An assembly of this nature was held
as far back as 1086, but it was more in the nature of a judicial Court
than a Parliament. It consisted of the Archbishop of Canterbury and
all other bishops, earls, and barons, and was summoned to decide
important judicial cases. This Court, or _Curia Regis_ as it was
called, met at different times and in divers places. It transacted
other business besides the judicial, and also corresponded to some
extent with the more modern _levée_. It was originally composed of the
Lords, the great officers of State, and some others whom the king
wished to consult.
The exact position which such nobles held in the great Council of the
land is not very definite. Immediately after the Conquest an earldom
appears to have been regarded as an office; but it was not necessarily
hereditary. Later on the possession of lands, either granted direct by
the Crown or inherited, became a necessary qualification for the
holder of an earldom. The transfer of titles and property in early
days was a rough and ready affair, in which might played as great a
part as right. (When Edward I. required the old Earl de Warrenne to
produce his title deeds, the latter brought out a rusty sword that had
belonged to his ancestors. "By this instrument do I hold my lands," he
said, "and by the same do I intend to defend them!") But with the
natural idea of the transference of land from father to son there
developed the principle of the natural hereditary descent of the title
dependent upon the possession of those lands.
The baronage did not come into existence until after the Conquest. In
the reign of Henry I. it was entirely composed of foreigners from
France. Barons held no regular office, but their lands were
transferred on the hereditary principle. They owed military allegiance
to the Crown, but did not necessarily sit in Parliament unless
summoned to attend by the king. Such a summons was long regarded as a
burden rather than a privilege, and even in the days of King John the
barons only desired it as a protection from the imposition of some
exceptional tax. The bishops and barons were then the natural leaders
of the people; they alone were educated and armed, and they alone
could attempt any successful resistance to the exorbitant demands of
the Crown. They paid nearly all the taxes, and provided money for the
prosecution of every war. Upon them the commonalty was dependent,
looking to them for assistance when the sovereign became too grasping
or tyrannical. It was the barons who forced King John to sign Magna
Charta, and to them, therefore, we are indebted for the laws and
constitution which we now possess. "They did not confine it to
themselves alone," as Chatham declared in the House of Lords, on
January 9, 1770, "but delivered it as a common blessing to the whole
people." But though the present House of Lords has been described as
composed of descendants of the men who wrung the Charter from King
John on the plains of Runnymede, not more than four of the existing
peerages are, as a matter of fact, as old as Magna Charta.
The feudal barons by tenure, whose right to a Parliamentary summons
gradually became hereditary as going with their lands, were gradually
joined by other prominent men who, though not landowners, were
summoned to give the Council the benefit of their experience and
advice. Thus gradually evolved the modern system of hereditary
legislators, and the House of Lords developed into an assembly such as
we now know it, though numerically far smaller.
In Richard II.'s reign the _Curia Regis_ separated from Parliament and
became a Privy Council. The Lords were then as unwilling as the
Commons to attend diligently to their Parliamentary duties, and it was
only the subsequent creation of dukes, marquesses, and viscounts that
stimulated the desire to sit and claim a writ of summons as a right.
The number of earls and barons summoned to Parliament in the reigns of
the first three Edwards varied from fifty to seventy-five. At times,
owing to the absence of the fighting men of the country who were
engaged in foreign warfare, it fell as low as sixteen. In the first
Parliament of Henry VIII. there were less than thirty temporal peers,
but in Elizabeth's time this number had doubled. Since Stuart days the
Lords have become more and more numerous. James I. granted peerages
right and left to his favourites, and, by selling baronies,
viscountcies, and earldoms for sums ranging from £10,000 to £20,000,
enriched his coffers and added some fifty members to the Upper House.
The eighty-two temporal peers who sat in his first Parliament were
gradually reinforced by his successors, until, in the time of George
III., they numbered two hundred and twenty-four, exclusive of their
ecclesiastical brethren.
The Lords spiritual have not always sat in the House of Lords. In
early days the abbots and priors largely predominated in that
assembly, but with the abolition of the monasteries they were banished
from it, though a certain number retained their seats in right of the
baronies which they possessed.[38] Bishops were excluded from the
House of Lords by Act of Parliament in 1640--Cromwell omitted to
summon them to his Upper House in 1657--and were not finally
readmitted until 1661. Within living memory several unsuccessful
attempts have been made to keep them out of Parliament. In 1836 a
member of the Commons moved that spiritual peers be released from
attendance, but his motion was defeated. Another member in the
following year suggested their exclusion on the ground that they had
plenty to occupy them elsewhere, that their contributions to debate
upon most legislative subjects were not particularly edifying, and
that they always voted with the Minister to whom they were indebted
for preferment. This motion met a fate similar to that of its
predecessor, as did another of the same kind in 1870.
[38] In the sixteenth century the Prior of the Hospital of St. John of
Jerusalem (near Clerkenwell), whom Selden calls "a kind of an otter, a
knight half-spiritual and half-temporal," had precedence of all the
lay barons in Parliament. His priory was suppressed in 1536, but his
name continued to appear spasmodically in the Journals of the House of
Lords until some time in Queen Elizabeth's reign.
To-day some twenty-six spiritual peers, including the two Archbishops
of Canterbury and York, are given seats in the House of Lords, where
they help to swell the number of that ever-increasing assembly.
Bishops usually confine themselves exclusively in the House of Lords
to the discussion of matters which concern the spiritual welfare of
the nation. Their contributions to debates are generally "edifying,"
and when they happen to cross swords with their lay brethren they are
well able to hold their own. Bishop Atterbury, of Rochester, once said
of a Bill before the House that he had often prophesied that such a
measure would be brought up, and was sorry to find himself a true
prophet. Lord Coningsby retorted that the Right Reverend Prelate had
put himself forward as a prophet, but he would only liken him to a
Balaam, who was reproved by his own ass. The Bishop at once replied
that he was well content to be compared to Balaam. "But, my Lords," he
added, "I am at a loss to make out the other part of the parallel. I
am sure that I have been reproved by nobody but his Lordship!"[39]
[39] Dr. King's "Anecdotes," p. 130. (It was a more modern politician
who, on being reproved by an opponent, said, "Consider the case of
Balaam's ass; before it spoke all men regarded it as quite an ordinary
quadruped, but after it had spoken they discovered what an
extraordinary ass it was!")
With the creation of new peerages by successive monarchs the list of
temporal peers lengthened year by year. The Union of the three
kingdoms still further added to their number. By the Acts of Union
with Scotland and Ireland it was laid down that sixteen Scottish and
twenty-eight Irish representative peers should sit in the House of
Lords. These were to be elected by their fellow-peers, the former for
each Parliament, the latter for life.[40] They may be distinguished in
other particulars as well, for though a Scottish peer can at any time
resign his seat, an Irish peer can never do so. Even though he be a
lunatic, or otherwise incapable of attending, he still retains his
place in the legislature. He is also privileged in other ways. In 1699
the Commons resolved that no peer could give his vote at the election
of a Member of Parliament, and, three years later, that he could not
interfere in elections. To-day a standing order of the House of
Commons imposes the same restraint upon all but Irish peers, who are
exempt from these restrictions.
[40] In November, 1908, the election of an Irish peer resulted in a
tie between Lords Ashtown and Farnham. Such a thing had not happened
since the Union. The difficulty was settled in a manner only perhaps
possible in an institution as venerable as the House of Lords. In
accordance with the provisions of the Act of Union, the Clerk of the
Parliaments wrote the names of the candidates on two pieces of paper
which he then put into a glass. One of these he drew out at random,
and the peer whose name was inscribed thereon was declared to be duly
elected.
In 1875 the House of Lords was strengthened judicially by the
introduction of four Lords of Appeal. The House, as is well known,
has judicial as well as legislative functions to perform. It has
always been the Supreme Court of the realm, and, ever since the reign
of Queen Elizabeth, the ultimate Appeal has lain to it in all cases
except those arising in Ecclesiastical Courts. Moreover, as the High
Court of Parliament, in conjunction with the Commons, it is empowered
to try offenders against the State whom the Commons have impeached. It
also enjoys the privilege of trying any of its own members who may be
charged with treason or felony, and of determining any disputed claims
of peerage which may arise.
There have always been a sufficient number of Lords learned in the law
to provide a court for the trial of legal cases. In the past, however,
occasions have arisen when the presence of lay peers has threatened to
replace the judicial aspect of the House by a political one which
would be fatal to its reputation as a court of appeal. It was not,
indeed, until 1845 that lords unlearned in the law began to consider
their presence during the hearing of judicial causes to be not only
unnecessary but undesirable, and discontinued their attendance. Thirty
years later the institution of four life peerages, conferred upon
eminent lawyers, added still further weight to the legal decisions of
the House. The hearing of appeals is now left entirely to what are
called the Law Lords, who consist of the Lord Chancellor, a number of
peers who have held certain high judicial offices, and the four Lords
of Appeal in Ordinary--three of whom must, by the Appellate
Jurisdiction Act of 1876, be present on all appeal cases.
The granting of life peerages, conferring rights of summons to the
House of Lords, save as above stated, has been adjudged to be beyond
the powers of the Crown. It may truly be said that in the first days
of Parliament the House of Lords consisted almost entirely of life
members. But when the Government of Queen Victoria attempted to revive
a practice that had lain in abeyance for some centuries they were not
allowed to do so.
The Supreme Court of Appeal had been violently attacked in the
Commons, where certain members declared it to be inferior to any
tribunal in the land. Palmerston in 1856 determined to remedy its
defects by the addition of two Law Lords who should be life peers.
This scheme was upheld by the Lord Chancellor, Lord Cranworth, but met
with determined opposition in the Upper House. The Law Lords were
especially opposed to it, fearing that, if such a precedent were
allowed, no lawyer in the future would ever be given an hereditary
peerage. On the Premier's recommendation the Queen proposed to confer
life peerages upon two distinguished lawyers, Parke and Pemberton
Leigh, and proceeded to issue a patent to the former, creating him
Baron Wensleydale for life. When, however, the matter was referred to
the Committee for Privileges, they decided that no life peer could
either sit or vote in the House of Lords, and the Wensleydale and
Kingsdown peerages had consequently to be made hereditary.
Persons who are raised to the peerage to-day are made peers of the
United Kingdom. No Scotch peer has been created since the Union in
1707, and the right of conferring an Irish peerage which existed under
certain restrictions in the Act of Union has ceased to be exercised
except upon one notable recent occasion.[41]
[41] Lord Curzon of Kedleston was so created in 1898.
During the last fifty years some one hundred and fifty additions have
been made to the membership of the House of Lords. The only limit to
the numerical increase of peers would seem to lie in the good sense of
the Prime Minister or the patience of the Sovereign. It is of course
the latter who confers peerages, though as the former usually brings
suitable candidates for ennoblement to the royal notice, he is
generally held responsible for the result of his recommendations.[42]
[42] When the last Liberal Government of Queen Victoria came into
office the Court officials were discussing the new Administration one
day at Windsor. "I wonder what peers they'll make," remarked one of
the ladies-in-waiting. The Queen turned upon her with uplifted
eyebrows. "_They!_" she exclaimed. An uncomfortable silence ensued.
Again, in 1909, a Cabinet Minister's allusion in a speech to certain
newspaper proprietors whom a Conservative Prime Minister had "taken
the precaution to make into barons" inspired the King's private
Secretary to write a letter to a correspondent in which he stated
that, notwithstanding the Minister's statement, "the creation of Peers
remains a Royal prerogative."
[Illustration: THE HOUSE OF LORDS IN 1742
FROM AN ENGRAVING BY JOHN FINE]
The House of Lords now includes some 616 members, divided, as we have
seen, into four classes; the Lords Spiritual, the Lords
Temporal--Princes of the Blood, Dukes, Marquesses, Earls, Viscounts,
Barons--the Representative Peers of Scotland and Ireland, and the
Lords of Appeal in Ordinary.
The writ of summons, which did not cease to be regarded as a burden
until the reign of Edward II., is now looked upon as a privilege and
right which few peers would willingly forego. And the question of
mutual precedence which was never mooted until the creation of
Viscounts in Henry VI.'s time, is now a matter of the utmost
importance to the occupants of the Gilded Chamber.
The first Parliament that is recognized as conferring the right of
peerage was that of the eleventh year of Edward I. The Lords decided,
in the recent case of Lord Stourton claiming the Barony of Mowbray,
that a writ summoning a peer to this Parliament, followed by a
sitting, gave his descendants a seat in the House.
All Peers of the Realm--a phrase which came into use in 1322--are
entitled to seats in the House of Lords once they have attained their
majority. Infancy disqualifies a peer from receiving a writ of
summons; failure to take the oath or to affirm deprives him of the
right of sitting. No alien may sit in the Lords, nor may a bankrupt or
a felon, and the House as a Court of Justice may at any time pass
sentence disqualifying a peer from sitting.
The functions of the Upper House which have been the subject of so
much recent controversy and are still engrossing the attention of
Parliament and the public, have been in former times variously defined
by friendly or adverse critics. The Lords have been described as the
brake on the parliamentary wheel or as the clog in the parliamentary
machine. Horace Walpole wrote some bitter verses on the subject of
that House whose members "sleep in monumental state, to show the spot
where their great Fathers sate;"
"Thou senseless Hall, whose injudicious space,
Like Death, confounds a various mismatched race,
Where Kings and clowns, th' ambitious and the mean,
Compose th' inactive soporific scene."[43]
[43] "Letters to Sir H. Mann," vol. i. p. 380.
Peers themselves no doubt regard the Upper Chamber as a haven where
merit may receive its ultimate reward; where the achievements and the
recompense of the deserving are suitably immortalized. As a "compact
bulwark against the temporary violence of popular passion," to use
Disraeli's phrase, and as a council for weighing the resolutions of
the Commons who may at times be led away by public clamour or a sudden
impulse, the Second Chamber is regarded by its defenders as of the
greatest constitutional value. Lord Salisbury once declared that the
chief duty of the House of Lords was to represent the permanent as
opposed to the passing feelings of the English nation; "to interpose a
salutary obstacle to rash or inconsiderate legislation; and to protect
the people from the consequences of their own imprudence." Moreover,
the Upper House thus has an opportunity of improving the details of
measures, many of which leave the House of Commons in an unworkable
shape, owing to the conditions under which they are amended and passed
through it, and, but for the alterations effected by the Lords, would
remain unworkable when they came to be embodied in the Statute-book.
It has never been the course of the Upper House to resist a continued
and deliberately expressed public opinion. The Lords, as Lord Derby
affirmed in 1846, "always have bowed and always will bow, to the
expression of such opinion."[44] But although history to a certain
extent bears out this statement, on more than one occasion the hand of
popular clamour has battered at their doors for a long time before
wringing from them a reluctant acquiescence. There can be no doubt
that if the country were to express itself definitely upon any
question at a General Election, no House of Lords would be strong
enough (or weak enough) to attempt to thwart the public will. But
there have been numerous instances in which the peers have endeavoured
without success to do so. In vain did they delay Parliamentary Reform
in 1831, when Sidney Smith likened the House of Lords to Mrs.
Partington, the old lady of Sidmouth who, during the great storm of
1824, tried to push away the Atlantic with her mop.[45] In vain did
they inveigh against the passing of the Jewish Oaths Bill or the Bill
for the abolition of the Corn Laws. They were eventually compelled to
pass the latter, not because they thought it a good Bill, but because,
as the Duke of Wellington said, it had passed the House of Commons by
a huge majority, and "the Queen's Government must be supported."
[44] On the Second Reading of the Corn Importation Bill, May 25, 1846.
[45] "Works," p. 564.
On the other side it may be said that they have occasionally
interpreted more successfully than the Lower House the views of the
electorate, and of this perhaps the rejection of the Home Rule Bill of
1893 is the most prominent example.
Even without actually rejecting Bills the Lords have frequently
opposed the will of the Commons by returning the Bills sent up to them
in so amended and altered a shape as to prove wholly unacceptable; and
an appeal to the country upon every point of difference, or even upon
every Bill wholly rejected, is of course impracticable.
In some such cases the Commons have had recourse to a method of
coercing the Lords, known by the name of "tacking," which depends for
its efficacy upon the acceptation of certain doctrines relating to
Money Bills laid down by the Commons at intervals during the last
three centuries, and in the main acquiesced in by the Lords.
The history of the matter, though of acute interest at the present
time, is too long to go into here. It will be sufficient to mention
that in 1678, as the result of a violent struggle between the two
Houses, the Commons passed Resolutions asserting (not for the first
time) that all Money Bills must have their origin in the Lower House,
and that the Hereditary Chamber is powerless to amend them. And though
the Lords at the time protested against both these conclusions, by
their action through a long course of years they must be taken to have
acquiesced in them. If, then, the Lords were unable to amend a Money
Bill, they might be compelled to accept an obnoxious measure of a
different nature if it were included in such a Bill, the whole of
which they would be loth to throw out. This was the process adopted in
several instances by the Commons, against which the Lords passed, in
1702, a Standing Order declaring the "annexing any foreign matter" to
be "unparliamentary and tending to the destruction of the
Constitution."
In 1770 the Commons brought in a Bill to annul the royal grants of
forfeited property, and, knowing that it would be objectionable to the
Upper House, cunningly tacked it on to a Money Bill. The Lords
returned it, with the foreign matter excised; but it was sent back to
them once more, and, acting on the advice of the Duke of Marlborough
who counselled concession, they eventually swallowed the whole mixture
as gracefully as they could find it in their hearts to do. In 1860,
the two Houses came into collision again on the same subject, when the
Lords threw out the Bill abolishing the duty on paper, which was a
financial question. Gladstone retorted in the following year by
tacking this Bill on to the Budget, and in this shape the Lords passed
it. But their right of rejection--which indeed is involved in the
necessity for their assent to every Bill--was never questioned, either
in 1678 or since, until the Budget Bill was thrown out in December,
1909, when the whole question of the relations between the two Houses
was brought into vital prominence and made the subject of an agitation
not easily to be assuaged.
There has always existed a spirit of antagonism between the two
Houses. Gladstone declared that the Commons were eyed by the Lords "as
Lancelot was eyed by Modred," and this mutual antipathy has
occasionally expressed itself in overt acts of rudeness. During a
debate in the Lords in 1770, on the defenceless state of the nation, a
peer moved that the House be cleared of strangers. A number of the
Commons happened to be standing at the Bar, but, notwithstanding their
protests, they were unceremoniously hustled out, being followed by a
volley of hisses and jeers as they left the Chamber. The Duke of
Richmond and many other peers were so disgusted at this exhibition of
ill-feeling that they walked out of the House. Colonel Barré has left
a graphic description of the scene. The Lords, he says, developed all
the passions and violence of a mob. "One of the heads of this mob--for
there were two--was a Scotchman. I heard him call out several times,
'Clear the Hoose! Clear the Hoose!' The face of the other was scarcely
human; for he had contrived to put on a nose of enormous size, that
disfigured him completely, and his eyes started out of his head in so
frightful a way that he seemed to be undergoing the operation of being
strangled."[46]
[46] The peer in question had not donned a false nose for the
occasion, as might be imagined, but was merely wearing the ordinary
working nose of aristocratic proportions with which Providence had
supplied him.
Two years after this scene, in 1772, Burke was kept waiting for three
hours with a Bill which he was carrying from the Commons to the Lords.
When he subsequently reported his ill-treatment to the Lower House,
their indignation knew no bounds, and they proceeded to revenge
themselves in a somewhat puerile manner. The very next Bill that the
House of Lords sent down to them was rejected unanimously, and the
Speaker threw the offensive measure on to the floor of the House,
whence it was kicked to the door by a number of indignant members.
It is not difficult to understand the cause of jealousy and anger
between the Houses, in spite of the fact that so many of the Lords
have at one time or another been members of the Commons, and so many
of the Commons hope to end their days in the Lords. (Croker, in a
letter to Lord Hatherton, recalls a visit he paid as a stranger to the
Upper House in 1857, where, of the thirty peers present, there was not
one but had sat with him in the Commons, including the Duke of
Wellington and the Lord Chancellor. "It shows," he says, "how
completely the House of Commons has been the nursery of the House of
Lords."[47]) The resentment against the Lords that undoubtedly exists
in the bosoms of the Commons, which is not confined to one side of the
House, but seems to be universal, results from the power of rejection
which the peers can at any time exercise with regard to a measure, or
of making amendments by which they can alter it out of all
recognition, thus nullifying in a single day the labours of months in
the Lower House. And when it is considered that this ruinous result is
due not only to men who owe their seats to their successful exertions
in various professions, but also in larger proportion to those who owe
them to being, as Lord Thurlow said of the Duke of Grafton, "the
accident of an accident,"[48] the situation must to many minds appear
wholly intolerable.
[47] Croker's "Letters," vol. i. p. 85.
[48] One is reminded of the reply addressed by the Emperor Alexander
to Madame de Stael who was complimenting Russia on possessing so able
a ruler. "Alas, Madame," he said, "I am nothing but a happy accident!"
One very clear cause of failure in the House of Lords to give
satisfaction lies in the fact that, although government by Party is
the very groundwork of the parliamentary constitution, as far as the
Upper House is concerned such an idea might just as well not exist at
all. Whatever the political complexion of the party in power in the
House of Commons, the Lords maintain an invariable Conservative
majority, indifferent to the swing of any popular pendulum, and as
fixed and unalterable as the sun. But at no time for the last century
has the inequality been so marked as at present, when it may be
truthfully said that the Liberal peers would scarcely fill a dozen
"hackney coaches."[49] And though the Liberal party has created a
considerable number of peers during the last few years, it has never
recovered from the secession of Liberal Unionists, and it would take
many years of Liberal supremacy and large drafts upon the Prerogative
of the Crown to restore even the comparative balance of early
Victorian days.
[49] At the time of the French Revolution, the country supported the
Government so strongly that the Opposition dwindled away to nothing.
It was even jestingly asserted that the Whigs could all have been held
in one hackney coach. "This is a calumny," said George Byng; "we
should have filled two!" Campbell's "Lives of the Chancellors," vol.
v. p. 614.
This may or may not be an advantage, for though the staunch Tory is
tempted to exclaim in the words of Disraeli: "Thank God there is a
House of Lords!" the equally staunch Radical is scarcely likely to
consider the existence of this perpetually antagonistic majority a
sufficient cause for gratitude towards the Almighty. The difficulty of
equalising the parties seems insurmountable, so long as ennoblement is
an expensive luxury and Peers continue to be drawn from the wealthy
classes.[50] There is, too, something essentially Conservative about
the atmosphere of the House of Lords, which sooner or later
impregnates the blood of its inmates; under its influence the Liberal
of one generation rapidly exhibits a tendency to develop into the
Conservative of the next. But this charge is no doubt one which may be
brought with more or less truth against any Second Chamber, however
constituted, which is composed of men of a certain age and position,
not immediately responsible to the fluctuating voices of the people.
Whether one considers such stability to be a merit or the reverse
depends upon whether one adopts Lord Palmerston's and Lord Salisbury's
views of the functions of a Senate, or regards it merely as a useful
and select body of legislators enjoying certain limited powers of
criticism and delay.
[50] It is suggested that the balance of party could be adjusted by
the Government persuading the Crown to create a number of peerages
sufficient to flood the House with peers of their particular political
persuasion. In 1712, Queen Anne was prevailed upon to create twelve
peers in a single day, in order to pass a Government measure. "If
these twelve had not been enough," said Bolingbroke, "we could have
given them another dozen!" William IV. was prepared to create a
hundred new peers to ensure the passing of the Reform Bill of 1832. It
remains to be seen whether such an idea is nowadays practicable.
So much has been written about this great modern controversy, that it
is unnecessary to increase the literature which exists upon both
sides. The issue seems to lie between reducing the Second Chamber to
comparative impotence or attempting by judicious reforms in its
composition to bring it into greater sympathy with the First Chamber.
The Resolutions recently passed by the Commons,[51] have for their
object the complete annihilation of the latter in all matters of
finance, and the retention for them of such modified powers of
influencing other legislation as would enable them to delay Bills
during the early years of a shortened Parliament, and refer them to
the country during its last two years. The question of "tacking," in
Money Bills, is to be referred to the sole arbitrament of the Speaker;
but this becomes of trifling importance when it is argued that almost
any revolutionary change could be effected within the corners of a
legitimate financial measure. The objection taken to the overriding of
the Veto in the case of a Bill thrice presented, is that it amounts to
one-Chamber legislation and would result in two classes of Acts--one
passed by the Commons alone, and the other by both Houses.
[51] "1. That it is expedient that the House of Lords be disabled by
Law from rejecting or amending a Money Bill, but that any such
limitation by Law shall not be taken to diminish or qualify the
existing rights and privileges of the House of Commons.
"For the purpose of this Resolution a Bill shall be considered a Money
Bill if, in the opinion of the Speaker, it contains only provisions
dealing with all or any of the following subjects, namely, the
imposition, repeal, remission, alteration, or regulation of taxation;
Charges on the Consolidated Funds or the provision of Money by
Parliament; Supply; the appropriation, control, or regulation of
public money; the raising or guarantee of any loan or the repayment
thereof; or matters incidental to those subjects or any of them."
"2. That it is expedient that the powers of the House of Lords, as
respects Bills other than Money Bills, be restricted by Law, so that
any such Bill which has passed the House of Commons in three
successive Sessions, and, having been sent up to the House of Lords at
least one month before the end of the Session, has been rejected by
that House in each of those sessions, shall become Law without the
consent of the House of Lords on the Royal Assent being declared;
Provided that at least two years shall have elapsed between the date
of the first introduction of the Bill in the House of Commons and the
date on which it passes the House of Commons for the third time.
"For the purposes of this Resolution a Bill shall be treated as
rejected by the House of Lords if it has not been passed by the House
of Lords either without Amendment or with such Amendments only as may
be agreed upon by both Houses."
"3. That it is expedient to limit the duration of Parliament to five
years."
The policy of Reform, on the other hand, is unacceptable to those who
desire the predominance of the First Chamber, as any successful scheme
for removing present defects in the constitution of the Lords--_e.g._
the excessive size of the House, the preponderance therein of one
party, and the presence of undesirable members--must result in its
increased strength and importance. Consequently the Commons have
neither made nor encouraged any attempts in that direction.
Such suggestions as have taken any shape have been proposed by the
Lords themselves, and the history of the last thirty years exhibits
many internal efforts to reform on the part of those dissatisfied with
the ancient constitution of the House. In 1884, Lord Rosebery's motion
for a Select Committee to consider the best means of promoting the
efficiency of the House of Lords, was negatived. Four years later he
moved for another Select Committee to inquire into the Constitution of
the House. In the same year an elaborate Bill of Lord Dunraven's for
reforming the Lords was rejected, and another, promoted by Lord
Salisbury, was withdrawn after having passed the second reading. In
1908 a committee met, under the chairmanship of Lord Rosebery, to look
into the whole question, and issued a most interesting and practical
report, full of admirable recommendations. This committee began by
pointing out the expediency of reducing the numbers of an assembly
which, within recent years has increased to such an extent as to
render itself too unwieldy for legislative purposes. It strongly urged
that the recommendations to the Crown for the creation of hereditary
peerages should be restricted within somewhat narrower limits. Many
peers, as the report explained, are obviously ill-suited to their
Parliamentary duties; others find the work irksome and distasteful; of
a few it may euphemistically be observed that their release from the
burden of legislative responsibilities would be eminently desirable.
Lord Rosebery's committee therefore came to the conclusion that the
dignity of a peer and the dignity of a Lord of Parliament should be
separate and distinct, and that, except in the case of peers of the
Blood Royal, the possession of a peerage should not necessarily be
attended with the right to sit and vote in the House of Lords. A
further suggestion was made that the hereditary peers should be
represented by two hundred of their number, elected by them to sit as
Lords of Parliament, not for life, but for each parliament, and that
the number of Spiritual Peers should be proportionately reduced to
ten. The inclusion of representatives from the Colonies, and the
granting of a writ of summons to a number of qualified persons who had
held high office in the State, figured prominently in this scheme of
reform.
Following up these recommendations, the House on the motion of Lord
Rosebery has recently adopted the following resolutions for its own
reconstitution:--
"(1) That a strong and efficient Second Chamber is not
merely an integral part of the British Constitution, but is
necessary to the well-being of the State and to the balance
of Parliament.
"(2) That such a Chamber can best be obtained by the reform
and reconstitution of the House of Lords.
"(3) That a necessary preliminary of such reform and
reconstitution is the acceptance of the principle that the
possession of a peerage should no longer of itself give the
right to sit and vote in the House of Lords."[52]
[52] The following further Resolutions stand upon the Notice Paper and
still await consideration:--
"(1) That in future the House of Lords shall consist of Lords of
Parliament: A. Chosen by the whole body of hereditary peers from among
themselves and by nomination by the Crown. B. Sitting by virtue of
offices and of qualifications held by them. C. Chosen from outside.
"(2) That the term of tenure for all Lords of Parliament shall be the
same, except in the case of those who sit ex-officio, who would sit so
long as they held the office for which they sit."
We are sometimes tempted nowadays to laugh, like "the gardener Adam
and his wife," at the claims of long descent. But the pride of birth
and blood is common to all nations, perhaps less so in England than
elsewhere. The French ducal family of Levis boasted a descent from the
princes of Judah, and would produce an old painting in which one of
their ancestors was represented as bowing, hat in hand, to the Virgin,
who was saying, "Couvrez-vous, mon cousin!" Similarly the family of
Cory possessed a picture of Noah with one foot in the ark, exclaiming,
"Sauvez les papiers de la maison de Cory!"[53] Byron is said to have
been prouder of his pedigree than of his poems, and it is to be hoped
that our aristocracy will never entirely forget that their ancestors
have handed down to them traditions which are more precious than the
titles and lands by which they are represented.
[53] Hayward's "Essays," p. 305.
One cannot altogether relish the sight of several peers, who had been
considered incompetent to manage their own affairs, hastening to
Westminster at the call of a party "Whip" to record their votes upon
Imperial concerns of the greatest importance. And though it must be
admitted that it is rare indeed for the incompetent or degenerate
members of the Upper House to take any part in its deliberations, the
fact that they have the undoubted right to do so scarcely tends to
enhance the respect in which that assembly is popularly held. In
spite, however, of the occasional presence of "undesirables," it is
generally acknowledged that if any question arises requiring a display
of more than ordinary knowledge of history, or more practical wisdom
or learning, these can nowhere be found so well as in the Upper House.
There, too, the level of oratory and of common sense is perceptibly
higher than in the popular assembly. But the Reform Bill of 1832
enabled the Commons to speak in the name of the people, which they had
never hitherto done, and which the Lords cannot do, and thus created
that wide gulf which now separates them from the House of Lords. Here,
however, as well as there, are many men who realise that, in the words
of Lord Rosebery, they have a great heritage, "their own honour, and
the honour of their ancestors, and of their posterity, to guard."[54]
[54] Hansard, vol. 289, p. 957 (1884).
CHAPTER III
THE HOUSE OF COMMONS
The Witenagemot, as we have already seen, was essentially an
aristocratic assembly. The populace sometimes attended its meetings,
but, beyond expressing their feelings by shouts of approval, took no
part in its deliberations. For many years after the Conquest the
People continued to be unrepresented in the Great Council of the
nation, though they were still present as spectators. From 1066 until
about 1225, says Blackstone, the Lords were the only legislators.
After the latter date the Commons were occasionally summoned, and in
1265 they formed a regular part of the legislature. Then for the first
time did the counties of England return two knights, and the boroughs
and cities two deputies each, to represent them in Parliament.
Seventy-four knights from all the English counties except Chester,
Durham, and Monmouth,[55] and about two hundred burgesses and
citizens, sat in the Parliament of Edward I.; but it was not until the
reign of his successor that any attempt was made to form a
constitutional government.
The Three Estates in those days sat in the same Chamber, but did not
join in debate. The Lords made the laws, and the Commons looked on or
perhaps assented respectfully. The separation of the two Houses took
place in the reign of Edward III., when the knights threw in their
allegiance with the burgesses, and in 1322 the Lower House[56] first
met apart.
[55] Durham, both County and City, was not enfranchised until 1673,
and Monmouth was regarded as a Welsh County.
[56] "The House of Commons is called the Lower House in twenty Acts of
Parliament," says Selden. "But what are twenty Acts of Parliament
amongst friends?"--"Table Talk," p. 36.
The power of the Commons increased gradually as time advanced. By the
end of the thirteenth century they had secured sufficient authority to
ensure that no tax could be imposed without their consent. By the
middle of the fourteenth no law could be passed unless they approved.
But many centuries were yet to elapse before the chief government of
the country passed into their hands.
The expense of sending representatives to Parliament was long
considered a burden, many counties and boroughs applying to be
discharged from the exercise of so costly a privilege. The electors of
those days were apparently less anxious to furnish a Member for the
popular assembly than to save the payment of his salary. Indeed, the
city of Rochester, in 1411, practised the frugal custom of compelling
any stranger who settled within its gates to serve a term in
Parliament at his own expense. He was thus permitted to earn his
freedom, and the parsimonious citizens saved an annual expenditure of
about £9.[57]
[57] "Quarterly Review," vol. xxix. p. 63.
With the gradual growth of parliamentary power the importance of
electing members to the House of Commons began to be recognized, and,
during the Wars of the Roses, fewer and fewer applications were made
by boroughs and cities anxious to be relieved of this duty.
Until Henry VI.'s time, when the modern system of Bills and Statutes
began to come into being, legislation was by Petition. The control of
Parliament was still very largely in the hands of the Crown, and
successive sovereigns took care that their influence over the Commons
should be maintained. With this object in view Edward VI. enfranchised
some two-and-twenty rotten boroughs, Mary added fourteen more, and in
Elizabeth's time sixty-two further members, all under the royal
control, were sent to leaven the Commons.
The attendance in the Lower House was still poor, not more than two
hundred members ever taking part in the largest divisions, and it was
only at the culmination of the conflicts between Parliament and the
Stuart Kings that the Commons began to display a real desire for
independent power.
If the Revolution of 1688 firmly and finally established the supremacy
of Parliament, it was only a supremacy over the Crown. The democratic
element to which we are accustomed in a modern House of Commons was
still conspicuously lacking. Both Houses remained purely aristocratic
in character until long after this. Whigs and Tories might wrangle
over political differences; they were at one in their determination to
uphold the interests of a single privileged class. "This House is not
the representative of the people of Great Britain," said Pitt in the
Commons in 1783; "it is the representative of nominal boroughs, of
ruined and exterminated towns, of noble families, of wealthy
individuals, of foreign potentates." Eight members of Parliament were
then nominated by the Nabob of Arcot, and in 1793 the Duke of
Norfolk's nominees in the House numbered eleven. The Crown, the
Church, and the aristocracy governed the country. The Commons were an
insignificant body, open to bribery, dependent upon rich patrons or
upon electors whose corruption was notorious. Prior to 1832, only 170
out of some 658 members of Parliament were independent; the remainder
were nominated by wealthy individuals. The Reform Bill of 1832,
however, brought about a mighty change for the better. The electorate
of the country was raised from 300,000 to 1,370,000. Fifty-six corrupt
boroughs were disfranchised, thirty-one were deprived of one member
each, and two others were reduced; and the hitherto inadequate
representation of other towns and boroughs was rectified.
The Reformed Parliament that met in the following year differed in
many respects from its predecessors. Sir Robert Peel was much struck
by the alteration in tone, character, and appearance of the new House
of Commons. "There was an asperity, a rudeness, a vulgar assumption
of independence, combined with a fawning reference to the people out
of doors, expressed by many of the new members, which" (as he told his
friend Raikes) "was highly disgusting."[58] The Duke of Wellington,
who had gone to the Peers' Gallery of the House of Commons to inspect
the new Parliament, expressed his opinion more tersely. "I never saw
so many shocking bad hats in my life!" he said. The spirit of
democracy had crept in, but it was still an unwelcome visitor. For
many years the aristocracy maintained a great preponderance in the
House of Commons--in 1868 that assembly comprised 45 heirs of
peerages, 65 younger sons of peers, and 57 baronets[59]--but its power
decreased year by year, though even now it cannot be said to be wholly
extinct.
[58] Raikes's "Journal," vol. i. p. 157.
[59] "Pall Mall Gazette," December 28, 1860.
By the Reform Acts of 1867 and 1884 the franchise qualifications were
once more extended, and three and a half million names added to the
register. With the election, in 1874, of the first Labour
candidates--of whom one, at least, was a genuine working-man--the
Commons gradually began to assume that representative appearance which
it now presents.
During the last three centuries the Lower House has increased very
considerably in size as well as in importance. It numbered 300 in the
reign of Henry VI., and 506 at the time of the Long Parliament. In
1832, by which time the Acts of Union had added 45 Scottish and 100
Irish members,[60] the numbers had risen to 658, and to-day some 670
members sit in Parliament.
[60] The Irish members were increased to 105 in 1832, but subsequently
reduced to 103, fifty years later.
The House of Commons has long ago shaken off the shackles of the
Crown, and will perhaps some day be almost as wholly emancipated from
the influence of the aristocracy. Its power is increasing yearly,
owing mainly to the fact that it has gained the confidence of the
country, and it is now generally felt that when any great question
arises, the House will solve it, as Disraeli said some fifty years
ago, "not merely by the present thought and intelligence of its
members, but by the accumulated wisdom of the eminent men who have
preceded them."[61]
[61] Hansard, "Debates," 18 April, 1864.
To appreciate the exact nature of those inducements which tempt a man
to enter Parliament must often prove perplexing to the lay mind. To
Charles James Fox the pleasures of patronage seemed the circumstances
which chiefly rendered desirable the possession of political power.
But the patronage in the hands of a private member to-day is of too
insignificant a nature to prove an irresistible temptation, and
political power of an appreciable kind is reserved for the very few.
The life of the modern legislator is a strenuous and an expensive one;
it cannot be successfully undertaken by a poor or an idle man. Before
a candidate may stand for Parliament at all he must deposit a
substantial sum with the Returning Officer, and the mere expenses of
election vary from £350 to £900 in boroughs, and from £650 to as much
as £1800 in counties.[62] Add to this the annual sum--variously
computed at from £200 to £500--which a member spends in subscriptions
within his constituency, and it can readily be imagined that the
parliamentary life is not open to all. There would, indeed, seem to be
some justification for the criticism of that cynical member who said
that he had often heard the House of Commons called "the best club in
London," and supposed that it was so termed because it demanded the
largest entrance fee.[63] A few fortunate candidates have their
election expenses paid by a party or by Trades Unions, but these are
in the minority, and the comparatively large cost of entering
Parliament is the chief reason why, in spite of the democratic
tendency of modern political thought, the House of Commons still
remains in large measure a delegation of the richest if not perhaps of
the most aristocratic class in England. This state of things is likely
to continue unless some system is adopted of remunerating the services
of legislators in the fashion which long prevailed in England and is
still in vogue upon the Continent. But it is certainly open to
argument whether its adoption would improve the quality of the House
or the respect entertained for it in the country.
[62] The General Election of 1880 cost £1,700,000. This expenditure
was reduced to about a million pounds after the passing of the Corrupt
and Illegal Practices Prevention Act and the Redistribution Bill of
1883 and 1885. By the former the expenses in boroughs are limited to
£350, if the number of electors does not exceed 2000; and to £380 if
it does exceed 2000, with an extra £30 for every further 1000
electors. In counties, where the electors do not exceed 2000, the
expenses are limited to £650, and to £710 if they exceed 2000, with an
extra £60 for every further 1000 electors. These sums do not include
personal expenses up to £100 and the charges of the returning officer.
[63] Hansard, "Debates," vol. 288, p. 1563. (5 June, 1884.) (The
phrase was first used in a novel entitled, "Friends of Bohemia, or
Phases of London Life," published in 1857, by a Parliamentary writer
named E. M. Whitty.)
In the Parliaments of Edward III. members received regular payment,
the wages varying from year to year. At the beginning of the
fourteenth century, for example, the knights of Dorsetshire were paid
5_s._ a day; later on this was reduced to 1_s._ 6_d._ In 1314 the
daily wage of county members was 4_s._, and they were also allowed a
small sum to cover travelling expenses. In Henry VIII.'s reign
boroughs were expected to pay their own members' expenses. Frugal
constituencies occasionally bargained with their would-be
representatives, and candidates, stimulated to generous impulses by
the idea of imminent election, would agree to defray their own
expenses or even to go without wages altogether. Sometimes, too,
members appear to have been willing to pay for the privilege of
election. In 1571 a certain Thomas Long was returned for the Wiltshire
borough of Westbury by the simple process of paying the mayor a sum of
£4. Long's unfitness for a seat in Parliament--he was a simple
yeoman--became apparent as soon as he entered the House. On being
questioned, he admitted having bribed the constituency to elect him,
and was at once informed that the House had no further need of his
services. The inhabitants of Westbury were fined £20, and the Mayor
was compelled to refund his money.[64]
[64] "Parliamentary History," vol. i. p. 766.
The practice of paying members long continued. In the year 1586 we
find the member for Grantham suing the borough for his salary. The
House of Commons does not, however, appear to have been anxious to
uphold this claim, and requested that it should be withdrawn. By this
time, indeed, it had become usual for members to forego the financial
advantages of election--though there still remained some notable
exceptions who were not satisfied with the honorary rewards attaching
to the possession of a seat in Parliament--and in 1677 the Commons
repealed the Statute by which wages were paid to members.[65]
[65] Andrew Marvell continued to receive a salary from Hull until his
death in 1678 (see his "Works," vol. ii., xxxv.), and the member for
Harwich obtained a writ against that borough for his salary in 1681.
Samuel Pepys deplored the gradual neglect of the old practice
requiring constituencies to allow wages to their representatives,
whereby, he said, "they chose men that understood their business and
would attend it, and they could expect an account from, which now they
cannot."[66] But this view was not the popular one, and electors
gladly availed themselves of the change in public opinion to
discontinue the earlier system. Motions have been brought forward on
more than one occasion, "to restore the ancient constitutional custom
of payment of members,"--notably in 1870 and 1888--but have always
been rejected by a large majority.[67] Nowadays, however, there seems
some inclination to revert to the old-fashioned and more expensive
method, and within recent years a Liberal Prime Minister has promised
to provide payment for members whenever funds for the purpose are
available. In other respects the desire of the member of Parliament
today would appear to be rather in the direction of relinquishing than
of adding to his personal privileges. In the eighteenth century, for
example, he would never have dreamt of paying postal fees. Members
transmitted their correspondence without charge by the simple process
of inscribing their names in one corner of the envelope. The privilege
of "franking," as this was called, was afterwards limited by its being
required that the date and place of posting should be added in the
member's handwriting, and the daily number of free letters was
restricted to ten sent and fifteen received. In those free and easy
days kind-hearted members would provide their friends with large
bundles of franked half-sheets of paper, and the number of persons who
paid any postage on their correspondence two hundred years ago must
have been very small indeed. In a letter written by Mrs. Delany to a
friend in 1749 we find the subject mentioned in a way that shows how
universally available had become such opportunities for defrauding the
revenue. "I have been so silly as to forget franks," she writes. "I
must beg the favour of you to get _a dozen or two_ for me from Sir
Charles Mordaunt.... I don't know," she adds, "but you will find a few
of the Duke of Portland's in the drawer with the paper."[68]
[66] "Diary," 30 March, 1668.
[67] Irving's "Annals of Our Time," p. 912. (The majority in 1870 was
187.)
[68] "Autobiography of Mrs. Delany," vol. ii. p. 511.
[Illustration: THE HOUSE OF OF COMMONS IN 1742
FROM AN ENGRAVING BY JOHN PINE]
By the end of the eighteenth century the improper franking of letters
threatened to become a public scandal. Covers were transmitted by the
hundred, packed in boxes, the only limit to their distribution being
the good nature of members. A London banker once received thirty-three
covers containing garden seeds from a Scottish member, and it became
apparent to the postal authorities that some effort must be made to
put a stop to the practice.[69] This was eventually done in 1840, not
without a struggle, and the modern member of Parliament who writes
letters to his friends must do so at his own expense. He is still,
however, allowed to send a certain number of printed copies of bills
to his constituents, free of charge, by writing his name in a corner
of the packet.
[69] Wraxall's "Posthumous Memoirs."
To-day the privileges of membership are certainly not of a material
kind. A few men enter the House of Commons for social purposes, and
must be sadly disappointed in the result. The simple letters, "M.P."
on a card are indeed no longer, as the author of that entertaining
work, "Men and Manners in Parliament," declared them to be thirty
years ago, "the surest passport to distinction for mediocrity
travelling on the continent."[70] Bitter experience has shattered the
simple faith in human nature which was once the chief charm of the
Swiss innkeeper. The sight of a British member of Parliament signing a
cheque no longer inspires him with confidence. He is only too well
aware that among those--
"Types of the elements whose glorious strife
Form'd this free England, and still guard her life,"
there exist a few who are not above leaving their hotel bills
permanently unpaid; and this knowledge has endowed him with a caution
which is both galling to the sensitive soul of the average M.P. and
extremely inconvenient to the tourist who has momentarily mislaid his
letter of credit.
[70] p. 270.
If the member cannot now enjoy the unmixed respect of the foreigner,
it is equally certain that at home he is no longer looked upon with
the veneration with which his predecessors were commonly regarded. His
constituents treat him as their servant no less than as their
representative. And though he may find some comfort in that definition
of a member's duties for which Edmund Burke is responsible--which
perhaps cost that statesman his seat at the General Election of
1780--this will prove but a slight consolation when he is suddenly
called upon by his local committee to explain some change of views or
to account for constant neglect of his parliamentary duties.
Parliament is not, indeed, as Burke told the electors of Bristol, a
congress of ambassadors from different and hostile interests, which
interests each must maintain, as an agent and advocate, against other
agents and advocates. It is a deliberate assembly of one nation, with
one interest, that of the whole; where not local purposes, not local
prejudices, ought to guide, but the general good, resulting from the
general reason of the whole. "You choose a member indeed," he said;
"but when you have chosen him, he is not a member of Bristol, but he
is a member of _Parliament_."[71] At the same time a member cannot
afford to forget that he owes much to his constituents; his existence
in Parliament depends very greatly upon their good pleasure. He must
be to a certain extent at their beck and call, willing to subscribe to
their local charities, to open their bazaars, visit their hospitals,
kick off at their football matches, take the chair at their farmers'
dinners or smoking-concerts. He must have a welcome hand ever extended
in the direction of the squire, a smile for the licensed victualler, a
kindly nod of the head for the meanest elector, and (at election
times) a kiss for the humblest voter's stickiest child. When
constituents call upon him at the House he must greet them with a
display of effusiveness which gives no hint of his annoyance at being
interrupted in the middle of important business. They may want to be
shown round the House, and such a natural desire on their part must be
acquiesced in, though it is not every one who has the courage to
escort a band of six hundred constituents round the Chamber, as did a
member in 1883. Every morning the postman will bring him--besides that
voluminous bundle of parliamentary papers and bluebooks, with the
contents of which he is mythically supposed to make himself
acquainted--a score of applications of various kinds from his
constituents, all of which must be attended to. The day is long past
when he can emulate the cavalier methods of Fox who, as Secretary of
State for Foreign Affairs, affixed a notice to the door of his office:
"No letters received here on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays,
Fridays or Saturdays! and none answered on any day!"[72]
[71] Speech at Bristol in 1774. ("Works and Correspondence of E.
Burke," vol. iii. p. 236). Algernon Sidney anticipated this remark.
"It is not therefore for Kent or Sussex, Lewes or Maidstone, but for
the whole nation, that the members chosen in those places are sent to
serve in Parliament."--"Discourse Concerning Government," vol. ii. p.
370.
[72] Bell's "Biographical Sketches," p. 82.
The modern member's duties are by no means confined to the House of
Commons, nor are they limited to the duration of the session. Formerly
it would never have occurred to a member to make a speech in his
constituency, once he was elected; though as a candidate he would of
course address the voters, and might even be compelled to attend a
banquet or a provincial dance.[73] The idea of paying a visit to the
electors of any constituency other than his own would, a century ago,
have been considered in the worst possible taste. Nowadays, however,
the point of view is changed. No sooner has he completed his share in
the arduous work of the session--the long tedious hours of debate, the
wearisome attendance on committees, the continual tramping through the
division lobbies--and shaken the dust of Westminster from his feet,
than he must hasten to the country to give some account of his
stewardship, to dazzle his constituents with the oratorical platitudes
which have failed to move the more fastidious audience of the House of
Commons. He must even be ready to rush off to the assistance of a
fellow-member in some distant shire, and purge his bosom of the same
perilous stuff upon various platforms all over the country.
[73] Croker, in 1820, complains of having to attend a three o'clock
dinner and dance at Bodmin, when he stood as candidate; the whole
affair being, he says, "at once tiresome and foolish." "Croker
Papers," vol. i. p. 166.
Sir Edward Coke declared three hundred years ago that every member of
Parliament should in three respects at least resemble the elephant;
"first, that he hath no gall; secondly, that he is inflexible, and
cannot bow; thirdly, that he is of a most ripe and perfect
memory."[74] He might well have added some of the other qualities of
that admirable beast--patience, docility, the capacity for hard work,
and, above all, a thick skin. Though outwardly inflexible, a modern
member must be prepared to bow to the wishes of his party; and in his
ripe and perfect memory there should be room for the names and faces
of his constituents and their wives. He must be patient when he has
failed for the hundredth time to "catch the Speaker's eye"; he must be
docile when the Whip urges him to vote in favour of a motion with
which he disagrees fundamentally; and if he be of a thin-skinned
disposition or of a delicate constitution, the labours of the House of
Commons may soon prove too much for him. If he is unambitious and
anxious to lead a peaceful life, he will do well to remember the
advice given by Ferguson of Pitfour, who summed up his parliamentary
experiences, in 1826, as follows: "I was never present at any debate I
could avoid, or absent from any division I could get at. I have heard
many arguments which convinced my judgment, but never one that
influenced my vote. I never voted but once according to my own
opinion, and that was the worst vote I ever gave. I found that the
only way to be quiet in Parliament was always to vote with the
Ministry, and never to take a place."[75]
[74] "Institute of the Laws of England," 4th part, p. 3.
[75] Sir H. C. Robinson's "Diary and Reminiscences," vol. ii. pp.
315-6.
No doubt the member of Parliament enjoys many privileges which are
denied to the mere layman. He is stimulated by the excitement of
participating in a perpetual political conflict; he delights in the
intellectual pleasure of hearing the most interesting questions of the
day debated by the shrewdest men of the age; he is conscious of being
in a sense a public benefactor, with a direct (if somewhat slight)
influence upon the policy of his country. He is given a front seat in
what Mr. Biggar once called the "best theatre in London," and there is
always the chance that some day he may himself be cast for a leading
part in that great political drama which is performed night after
night on the boards of the Theatre Royal, Westminster. Politics--"l'art
de mentir à propos," as Voltaire defined them--may have their origin
in the perversity rather than in the grandeur of the human soul, but
the attraction they exercise over the average Englishman is very
great.[76] But for the privileges of a parliamentary career--one of
the worthiest to which a patriot can devote himself, in Mr. Balfour's
opinion--a heavy price has to be paid, and to the toll of toil and
treasure levied by Parliament must be added the sacrifice of
independence as well as of time.
[76] Moore wrote to Lady Donegal in 1807: "I begin at last to find out
that _politics_ is the only thing minded in this country, and that it
is better even to _rebel_ against government than have nothing to do
with it." "Memoirs," vol. i. p. 225.
In this twentieth century the initiative of the private member has
almost disappeared. The Government is alone responsible for
legislation; all the most important measures brought in are Government
measures. The time of the House is placed, very early in each session,
at the disposal of the Government, its business is arranged to suit
their convenience, and the private member must be content to make the
most of such fragmentary opportunities as are flung to him. He is
controlled by his party and by his Whip; he may not leave the House
without permission; he must vote at the word of command. At one moment
he may be called upon to speak at length upon a subject of which he is
sublimely ignorant, in order to allow his party a chance of gathering
their forces to meet an unexpected division; at another he is
compelled to refrain from good words, though it may be pain and grief
to him, in order to save the precious time of the Government. And
perhaps he will occasionally be inclined to agree once more with Burke
that the same qualifications, nowadays, make a good member of
Parliament that formerly made a good monk: "Bene loqui de superiore,
legere breviarum taliter qualiter, et sinere res vadere ut vadunt"--to
speak well of the minister, read the lesson he sets you, and let the
State take care of itself![77]
[77] Prior's "Life of Burke," vol. ii. p. 454.
Even so, the advantages of membership are not to be despised; and once
a man has tasted the sweets of political life, all other professions
fade into insignificance. He may have been moved to enter Parliament
by some ambitious yearning after fame; he may have been prompted by
patriotic motives, or merely the desire to prove himself a useful
member of society, his serious opinion being (like that of Buxton, the
great opponent of Slavery) that "good woodcock-shooting is a
preferable thing to glory."[78] His contributions to debate may be of
poor quality, but they will not be altogether valueless, and, after an
arduous day in the House, he will listen with a glow of conscious
rectitude to the ancient and welcome cry of "Who goes Home?" which
rings through the lobbies and announces the close of the sitting.[79]
Though he may never, perhaps, wake to find himself famous, he will
often sink comfortably to sleep on his return home from the House in
the early hours of the morning, soothed by the consciousness of duty
done. That in itself is a thing not to be despised, and there may
possibly be other benefits in store for him. If he is sufficiently
painstaking and intelligent he may perchance have greatness thrust
upon him in the form of an under-secretaryship, and, when he has
scaled the outer breastworks of that Cabinet zareba to which access is
so difficult, the suspicion that he has long cherished of being a
heaven-born politician is at length confirmed.
[78] Buxton's "Memoirs," p. 154.
[79] In olden days members used to return from Westminster to London
through lanes infested with robbers. This cry enabled them to assemble
and leave the House in one another's company.
Socrates was right when he said that whereas no man undertook a trade
that he had not thoroughly learnt, everybody considered himself
sufficiently qualified by nature to undertake the trade of government,
probably the most difficult in the world. There are, however, certain
disqualifications which prevent the most ambitious man from serving in
Parliament.[80]
[80] It is curious to reflect that a man may be a member of Parliament
even though he is not entitled to a vote as an elector. The Rt. Hon.
Austen Chamberlain was not only a member, but even a Cabinet Minister,
at a time when he had no vote.
Infants and minors may not be elected to the House of Commons. But
though they have always been excluded by custom or statute, their
presence was winked at until the end of the eighteenth century. The
members of those bygone times seem generally to have been more
youthful than the members of to-day. Even the Chair was occupied by
men comparatively young, Seymour, Harley, and Sir Thomas More each
being elected Speaker before he had reached the age of forty. The
last-named speaks of himself as a "beardless boy resisting greybeards
and Kings themselves," referring no doubt to the time when Cardinal
Wolsey came to the House of Commons in 1523, to ask for money for his
royal master, and he actively opposed the grant.
In Queen Elizabeth's time the Lower Chamber was not weakened by the
admission of too many infants; but during the reign of James I. the
ancient custom for old men to make laws for young ones seems to have
been inverted, there being as many as forty members of Parliament who
were minors, and several who were not more than sixteen years old.[81]
The poet Waller sat in the Commons before he was seventeen, while Lord
Torrington (afterwards Duke of Albemarle) took part in debate when he
was only fourteen, and at that age addressed the House in 1667, on the
subject of Clarendon's impeachment.[82] The infant members of that day
were singularly precocious and well able to look after themselves.
When, for instance, some one urged that Lord Falkland was too young to
sit in Parliament, as he had not yet sown his wild oats, that young
nobleman rudely replied that he could imagine no more suitable place
for sowing them than the House of Commons, where there were so many
geese to pick them up.[83]
[81] Naunton's "Fragmenta Regalia," p. 21.
[82] Shaftesbury's "Life," vol. i. p. 30 n.
[83] Townsend's "History," vol. ii. p. 400.
The Crown saw no disadvantage in having youthful legislators, who
could all the more easily be influenced. When Parliament assembled in
1661 and the tender age of many of the members was pointed out to King
Charles, he answered that he found no great fault in that, "for he
could keep them till they got beards."[84] By the Act of 1695,
however, infants were formally excluded from Parliament, but for a
long time they continued to sit in the House, though they most
probably abstained from voting.
[84] Reresby's "Memoirs," p. 51.
Extreme youth was not considered a bar to parliamentary success in
days when it was possible for a politician to become Prime Minister,
as Pitt did, at the age of twenty-five, though that statesman's father
found it necessary on one occasion to defend himself against the
charge of immaturity.[85] Both Fox and Philip Stanhope (afterwards
Lord Chesterfield) delivered their maiden speeches a month or so
before they came of age,[86] and Lord John Russell was returned to
Parliament when he was still a minor.
[85] "Sir," he said in debate, "the atrocious crime of being a young
man, which the hon. gentleman (Horace Walpole) has with such decency
and spirit charged against me, I shall neither attempt to palliate or
deny; but content myself with wishing that I may be one of those whose
follies may cease with their youth, and not of that number who are
ignorant in spite of experience."
[86] Chesterfield's "Letters," vol. ii. p. 339. In order to escape the
fine of £500 Chesterfield retired from political life for a short
time.
As the years advanced the House of Commons became more and more
particular in this respect, and at the beginning of the nineteenth
century an eye-witness was struck by the large proportion of
bald-headed men--nearly a third of the whole number--in the Lower
Chamber.[87] To-day no one who has not reached the mature age of
twenty-one can stand for Parliament, much less sit upon the sacred
green benches.
[87] Grant's "Recollections," p. 62.
Lunatics and idiots are also disentitled to parliamentary election. A
member who goes mad after having taken his seat can only be removed,
however, if his case is proved to be a hopeless one, the House being
then petitioned to declare the seat vacant, and the Speaker issuing a
new writ. In one well-known instance a committee of the House found
that a member's lunacy was not so incurable as to justify his removal,
and he retained his seat. In 1881 the case of a lunatic recording his
vote in a division was the occasion of a painful and futile debate.
The member in question suffered from periodical bouts of insanity, and
had recently been certified "dangerous" at his own request, in order
that he might retire temporarily to an asylum. It was therefore
obviously improper for him to vote. The House, however, declined to
take any serious notice of the incident, the motion for an inquiry by
a Select Committee into the circumstances of the case being negatived,
and the matter tactfully allowed to drop.[88]
[88] See Hansard, vol. clxii. p. 1941.
Aliens cannot sit in Parliament until they have taken the precaution
of becoming naturalised British subjects. In William III.'s time all
persons born outside the dominions were disqualified, and when the
Test and Corporation Acts were repealed in George IV.'s reign, an
amendment was inserted by the Bishop of Llandaff in the House of Lords
by which Jews were excluded from Parliament. They were finally
admitted to the House of Commons in 1858, and during the reign of
Queen Victoria naturalisation was held to carry with it full political
rights.
English and Scottish peers are incapacitated from serving in the
Commons. Irish peers, however, may do so, provided that they are not
already sitting as representative peers in the House of Lords.[89] The
eldest sons of peers were excluded from the Lower House down to the
middle of the sixteenth century, when they were gratefully admitted
and given seats of honour on the front bench with the Privy
Councillors.
[89] When the Lords were temporarily abolished in 1648, peers were
elected to the Commons, but only a few seem to have availed themselves
of this privilege. Porritt's "Unreformed House of Commons," vol. i. p.
123.
Irishmen enjoy parliamentary privileges not only as peers but also as
bankrupts. The occasional combination of the two therefore carries
with it some slight compensation. A bankrupt Englishman or Scotsman is
disabled from even standing as a candidate for Parliament, whereas his
more fortunate Irish brother may be elected. Members of Parliament who
become bankrupt after election may continue to sit and vote in the
Commons until the Speaker has received official notification of their
bankruptcy, or the House has ordered their withdrawal.
The election of clergymen and other ministers was prohibited by an Act
of 1801, passed in order to deal with the case of the Rev. J. Horne
Tooke, the "Father of Radicalism," who had been elected for Old Sarum.
It did not succeed in its object, however, for he continued to sit for
the remainder of the Parliament.[90] And by another Act, passed about
1870, any one who has relinquished the office of priest or deacon is
eligible for election. Otherwise no minister of the Established Church
may sit in Parliament.
[90] Horne Tooke was a man of strength and determination. Upon all
great public questions, as he once declared, "neither friends nor
foes, nor life nor death, nor thunder nor lightning, would ever make
him give way the breadth of one hair." When Lord Temple claimed a
superior right to sit in Parliament because he had "a stake in the
country," "So have I," said Tooke, "but it was not stolen from a
public hedge!"
Many other persons are similarly debarred, among whom may be mentioned
the holders of offices under the Crown created since 1705, Crown
pensioners (exclusive of civil servants and diplomats), and Government
contractors. Persons guilty of treason or felony (who have neither
served their sentence nor been pardoned), or of corrupt practices at
elections are likewise disqualified,[91] as are also those who are
unable to take the Oath of Allegiance or to affirm. There are,
besides, a number of officials connected with the administration of
justice, or concerned with the collection of the Revenue, or
representatives of the Crown--judges, colonial governors, etc.--who
are incapacitated by their positions from sitting in the House of
Commons.
[91] In 1558 it was voted by a small majority that one outlawed or
guilty of various frauds might sit in the House if duly elected, his
crimes being apparently purged by virtue of his election. See Raikes's
"English Constitution," vol. i. p. 323.
At one period of parliamentary history lawyers were excluded from the
House of Commons, enactments in favour of keeping out "gentlemen of
the long robe" being passed in Edward III.'s time. They were always
unpopular members, it being supposed that they only entered Parliament
as a stepping-stone to wider practice at the Bar or to some sort of
Government employment. The legal profession was looked upon as one
into which no one entered without views of self-aggrandisement, and
the use of a seat in Parliament as a means of advertising oneself did
not appeal to the country at large.[92] Lawyers are allowed to sit in
the House to-day, but they may not practise as counsel before
Parliamentary Committees, nor even advise professionally upon any
private Bill.
[92] See the "Black Book," p. 61.
Having successfully eluded all these disqualifications, paid a large
sum for the privilege of serving his country, talked himself hoarse on
the platforms of his constituency, and finally been returned in
triumph to the House of Commons, the private member may consider
himself safely launched upon the parliamentary sea. It now remains to
be seen whether or not political life comes up to his expectations. If
he is energetic, ambitious, and eloquent he will find free scope for
his talents on the green benches at Westminster. He will be given a
chance of proving his worth upon Select Committees. Here he can serve
his apprenticeship in preparation for that glorious day when he may be
inspired to thrill and enrapture a delighted assembly with such an
outburst of oratory as shall at once establish his claim to the
consideration of his party. Then indeed does Fortune seem ready to
smile upon the embryo statesman. In imagination he sees himself
lounging upon the Treasury bench, his feet cocked up against the
historic Table, while he writes a report of the debate for the
edification of his Sovereign. To the political enthusiast the
prospect is a rosy one. But alas! it is not every man who can aspire
to the giddy heights of the front bench. After many a session of
laborious days and sleepless nights, after many a recess devoted to
the tiresome art known as "nursing" his constituency, after many
disappointments and trials, our member may still find himself at the
bottom of the parliamentary ladder. Even if he ascends to what Mr.
Gladstone would have called "measurable distance" of the top, his
tenure is precarious; in the defeat of a Government at a General
Election he too may fall. And though his constituents remain loyal and
his seat secure, there arrives a day when he begins to weary of the
slavery of parliamentary life, of the drudgery of a political career.
Like Macaulay, he may at length come to define politics as a pursuit
from which the most that those who are engaged in it can expect is
that by relinquishing liberal studies and social pleasures, by passing
nights without sleep and summers without one glimpse of the beauty of
nature, they may attain "that laborious, that invidious, that closely
watched slavery which is mocked with the name of power."[93] When this
tragic moment arrives, or when through physical infirmity, advancing
years, or penury, he wishes to bid a long farewell to the scene of his
parliamentary labours, he has still a minor obstacle to contend with.
[93] "Edinburgh Review" (October, 1838), vol. lxviii. p. 114. The two
happiest days of a statesman's life are said to be the day when he
accepts high office and the day when he resigns it (Campbell's "Lives
of the Chancellors," vol. i. p. 561). Lord Rosebery defined the
acceptance and resignation of office as "the two supreme
pleasures--one ideal, the other real."
A member cannot resign his seat, nor is it permissible for him to
exchange it for any other. Only his own death or the dissolution of
Parliament can enable him to cease from being a member, unless the
House itself declares his seat to be vacant. Even expulsion from the
House does not prevent his immediate re-election by a constituency
determined to retain his services, as was shown in the case of
Walpole--twice expelled from the House, and re-elected by the voters
of Lynn--and of Wilkes and Bradlaugh. The only thing that can prevent
a man from sitting in the House, or allow a member to escape from its
service, is the fact of his coming within the range of that long list
of disqualifications already enumerated.
How then can a member vacate his seat in the simplest fashion? Many
members would think twice before becoming bankrupt or committing a
felony in order to avoid parliamentary duty. It is not given to every
one to be a Colonial Governor, an Auditor General, or even a Charity
Commissioner. But, by the merciful connivance of the powers that be,
it is always possible for a member to incapacitate himself by holding
a Crown appointment. For this beneficent purpose two ancient
stewardships of a purely nominal value are upheld, that by accepting
either of these offices a member may be enabled to retire gracefully
from Parliament.
The steward or bailiff of the three Chiltern Hundreds of Stoke,
Desborough and Boneham, and the steward of Northstead, were officers
appointed by the Crown in past ages to look after certain
Buckinghamshire forests in which brigands abounded. The brigands are
long since dead, and the forests themselves have been converted into
parks and pasture lands, but the stewardships remain, a convenient
city of refuge for members who desire to escape from the active strife
of Parliament, to whom they are sometimes presented as often as nine
times in one session. "The parliamentary constitution of England,"
said Disraeli, "was born in the bosom of the Chiltern Hills; as to
this day our parliamentary career is terminated among its
Hundreds."[94] And since no county is fraught with greater historical
and political interest than Buckinghamshire, it is perhaps fitting
that it should be the means of providing a merciful release for the
jaded parliamentarian whose course is run.
[94] Speech made to the farmers at Amersham Market, 1847.
CHAPTER IV
THE PALACE OF WESTMINSTER
Parliament may be summoned to assemble wherever the king pleases.
Westminster, the site of that royal palace which has sheltered so many
English sovereigns, from King Canute to Henry VIII., was for centuries
the most natural meeting-place for the Great Council of the nation.
But many another town, such as Winchester, Bury St. Edmunds,
Leicester, Coventry, Reading, Salisbury, and half a dozen more, has at
different times been selected as the temporary seat of Parliament,
either to suit the royal convenience, or for other reasons.
Of the twenty Parliaments of Edward II. one met at Ripon, one at
Northampton, and three at York and Lincoln. In Stuart days Oxford was
the place chosen on two occasions, in 1625 and in 1665, when London
was being ravaged by the Plague. Since the Revolution of 1668,
however, Parliament has ceased to be nomadic in its habits; in its old
age it has definitely settled down at Westminster, and there it is
likely to remain.
The palace in which Canute first resided, within a stone's throw of
the Thames, was burnt to the ground somewhere about the year 1040.
Edward the Confessor rebuilt it ten years later, and in the days of
William Rufus the addition of the Great Hall further enhanced the
dignity of the palace. Here William held his first court, on his
return from Normandy, and since his day a succession of kings have
made it the centre of innumerable scenes of royal pomp and pageantry.
William Rufus was a man of large ideas. Even the magnificence of the
Great Hall did not entirely satisfy his taste for grandeur. In his
imagination he had conceived a still more splendid scheme of
architecture, and was disappointed with the size of the new building.
On first entering to inspect it, accompanied by a large military
retinue, he overheard some tactless persons remark that, in their
opinion, the Hall was far too large. With a scornful look the King
reduced these critics to silence, explaining that, so far from this
being the case, the Hall was not half large enough, being, in fact,
but a bed-chamber in comparison with the building of which he intended
it to form part.[95]
[95] Knight's "London," vol. vi. p. 135.
By the end of the fourteenth century Westminster Hall had fallen into
disrepair, and during the reign of Richard II., when the poet Chaucer
was clerk of the works, it was rebuilt, the expense being met by a tax
levied upon all foreigners in the kingdom. Richard celebrated the
event by keeping Christmas there in a suitably seasonable fashion,
"with daily justings and runnings at tilt; whereunto resorted such a
number of people that there was every day spent twenty-eight or
twenty-six oxen, and three hundred sheep, besides fowl without
number."[96]
[96] Stow's "A Survey of London," p. 173.
Prior to the days when such feats of engineering as the building of
the modern Thames Embankment were possible, the proximity of the
Palace to the river necessitated a system of constant repair. Until
confined within reasonable limits, the Thames showed a disposition to
overflow its banks upon the slightest provocation, much to the
inconvenience of the royal residents in the neighbourhood. In 1236 the
Palace was completely flooded, so that "men did row with wherries in
the midst of it," and six years later a similar fate befell
Westminster Hall. In 1579 the river once more trespassed upon the
royal domain, fish being afterwards found in a moribund condition on
the floor of the Great Hall. The latter, indeed, continued to be
visited by periodical floods as late as the year 1841.
Fire, too, seems to have proved a constant menace to the safety of the
palace, though at the time of the Fire of London the Great Hall was
one of the few places in which citizens could store their goods out of
harm's way. In 1299 part of the palace was burnt to the ground, and at
the beginning of the sixteenth century so great a proportion of it
fell a prey to a "vehement conflagration" that Henry VIII. decided to
forsake it altogether, and removed his court to Whitehall. Since that
day royal personages have ceased to lodge at the Palace of
Westminster, which is still, however, nominally a royal residence, and
as such remains in the custody of an officer of the King's
household.[97]
[97] The Lord Great Chamberlain, who holds an hereditary freehold
office of state, is the custodian of the Palace of Westminster. He was
originally an executive officer of the King's household, appointed to
look after the royal residence. In 1133 the office was granted by
Henry I. to Aubrey de Vere, father of the first Earl of Oxford, and to
his heirs. Henry VIII. gave the post on several occasions for life to
different favourites, not necessarily of the De Vere family, but since
the time of Elizabeth the Lord Great Chamberlainship has been held
without exception by descendants of the Earl of Oxford. To-day the
families of Cholmondeley on the one side, and Ancaster and Carrington
on the other, share the privileges of the office, a representative of
each branch holding the Chamberlainship in turn during the lifetime of
alternate sovereigns. The Lord Great Chamberlain retains authority
over the buildings of both Houses, even during the session, whenever
Parliament is not sitting. Here his official responsibilities end. In
former times a considerable part of his duties consisted in attending
his sovereign at the Coronation, when he was not only expected to
dress the King, to "carry the coif, swords, and gloves, etc."; but
also to undress him, and to wait on him at dinner, "having for his fee
the King's bed and all the furniture of his chamber, the night apparel
and the silver basin wherein the King washes, with the towels." It is
traditional that if the King sleeps at Westminster he must occupy the
Lord Great Chamberlain's house. George IV. did so on the eve of his
Coronation, the Speaker of the House of Commons handing over his
residence for the purpose to the Lord Great Chamberlain for a nominal
fee. On this occasion the officials in waiting on His Majesty spent a
restless night. Lord Gwydyr, the Deputy Lord Great Chamberlain, and
his secretary, took their stand on one side of the King's chamber, and
the Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod on the other, and there they
remained until morning. (See "The Gentleman's Magazine." July, 1821.)
[Illustration: WESTMINSTER HALL IN 1797
FROM AN ENGRAVING BY C. MOSLEY]
The Great Hall still continued to be used as the most appropriate
stage for State ceremonies, for coronations and the banquets with
which such events were celebrated. It was also the scene of most of
the great State trials famous in English history. Such men as William
Wallace, the Earls of Arundel, of Essex, and of Strafford, were here
arraigned upon a charge of high treason; here Charles I. was condemned
to death. In Westminster Hall Titus Oates was stripped of his
ecclesiastical habit and exposed to public obloquy, with a placard
upon his breast declaring his offence. Beneath this wide oak roof the
Duchess of Kingston was tried for bigamy, much to her delight. Here,
too, Warren Hastings faced his accusers, and triumphed over them. This
is the Hall, as Macaulay says in a well-known passage, which witnessed
the just sentence of Bacon and the just absolution of Somers; the Hall
where the eloquence of the latter for a moment awed and melted a
victorious party inflamed with just resentment. This, we may now add,
is the Hall where the body of Gladstone lay in state, and the mortal
remains of King Edward VII. received the homage of his sorrowing
subjects.
No State trial has been held in Westminster Hall since Lord Melville
was acquitted there in 1806, and on the only recent occasion on which
a member of the House of Lords was tried by his peers, on July 18,
1901, the Royal Gallery of the Lords was fitted up as a court.
For centuries the coronation feasts, which were held in Westminster
Hall, provided the public with a stately and imposing spectacle. Not
the least interesting part of the ceremony consisted in the entrance
of the King's Champion, clad in armour and mounted upon a fiery
charger, who flung down his gauntlet and challenged to mortal combat
all who dared to question the monarch's right to the throne. The feat
required some personal courage, as well as the possession of a docile
steed, for if it were not accomplished successfully the effect might
well be ludicrous. Before the coronation of George III., Horace
Walpole relates, Lord Talbot had spent much care in training his
charger to walk backwards, so that it might make a graceful exit from
the Hall without ever exposing its tail to the royal gaze.
Unfortunately, the lesson had been too well learnt, and the horse
insisted upon entering the Hall backwards, much to the amusement of
the spectators.
Sovereigns are no longer crowned in Westminster Hall, but in the Abbey
close by, and no coronation feast has been held there since the
accession of George IV., when the guests repaid their sovereign's
hospitality by carrying away most of his spoons as souvenirs of the
event. The Hall has, however, been the scene of other less-important
banquets, as, for instance, in 1905, when the officers of the visiting
French fleet were entertained there as the guests of the British
nation.
To Westminster Hall, Henry II. summoned his Barons in Council, and in
the reign of Henry III. parliaments were often held there. Gradually,
however, the building became devoted exclusively to the judicial side
of the king's Great Council, and, when Edward I. occupied the throne
of England, the Courts of King's Bench and Chancery held their
meetings regularly at the south end of the Hall. Peter the Great,
during a brief stay in England, paid a visit to Westminster Hall, and
was much struck by the presence of a number of busy people in long
black gowns and bobtailed wigs. On being informed that these were
lawyers, "I have but two in my dominions," he observed thoughtfully,
"and I believe I shall hang one of those directly I get home!"
New buildings were erected in 1738, on the west side of the Hall, to
accommodate the judges, and when, about a hundred and fifty years
later, the Palace of Justice was built in the Strand, the
representatives of the law emigrated thither in a body.
The general public for a long time shared with the lawyers the
privilege of trading within the precincts of Westminster Hall. In
Edward III.'s reign merchants' stalls abounded there, being
temporarily boarded over on the occasion of State pageants, and, at a
much later date, Laud tells us in his diary, a conflagration in one
of these shops threatened to destroy the entire building.
During the seventeenth century, book-sellers, law-stationers, and
other tradesmen still plied their callings in the Hall, undisturbed by
the pleadings of their legal rivals.[98] On the one side, as we read
in a contemporary chronicle, were to be seen "Men with Baubles and
Toys, and on the other taken up with the Fear of Judgment, on which
depends their inevitable Destiny. On your Left Hand you hear a nimble
Tongu'd _Sempstress_, with her Charming Treble, Invite you to buy some
of her Knick-Knacks: And on your Right, a Deep-mouth'd Cryar
commanding Impossibilities, viz. Silence to be kept among Women and
Lawyers."[99] In the days of Pepys, the Great Hall had become a
regular meeting-place for the public, and was still the most popular
market for the sale of books.[100]
[98] Forster's "Grand Remonstrance," p. 276, note.
[99] Brown's "Amusements," pp. 39-40.
[100] "At Westminster Hall, where Mrs. Lane and the rest of the maids
had their white scarfs, all having been at the burial of a young
bookseller in the Hall," "Pepys' Diary," 20 January, 1659.
Trade has long been banished from the portals of Westminster Hall, its
stately precincts are now desecrated by no foot less worthy than that
of the Member of Parliament or the Saturday sight-seer. In other
respects the Hall remains unchanged. Save for the retimbering of the
roof in 1820 with oak taken from old men-of-war, it stands to-day much
as it has stood for centuries. Structural alterations have
occasionally been suggested, but without effect. One projected by Lord
Grenville, necessitating the removal and raising of the entire roof,
evoked many indignant protests.[101]
[101]
"With cedar roof, and stony wall,
Old William Rufus built this hall;
Without a roof, with scarce a wall,
William Unroof-us spoils it all."
Hawkins's "Biographical Sketches," vol. i. p. 341.
In New Palace Yard, opposite the entrance of Westminster Hall, a huge
clock-tower once stood. It had been erected in the reign of Edward I.,
the cost being defrayed by a fine levied on Sir Ralph de Hengham,
Chief Justice of the King's Bench, as a penalty for altering a
judicial record in favour of a pauper litigant. In this tower hung a
bell, known as "Great Tom of Westminster," whose voice on a clear day
could be beard as far away as Windsor.[102] In 1707 both tower and
bell were pulled down, the latter being recast and presented to St
Paul's Cathedral where it still hangs.
[102] There is a well-known story of a sentry at the Castle who was
accused of sleeping at his post, and secured his acquittal by proving
that he had heard "Great Tom" strike thirteen times at midnight--a
fact which was corroborated by the evidence of independent witnesses.
Near the tower was a fountain from which on great occasions wine was
made to flow for the delectation of the populace, while close by stood
the pillory in which Titus Oates, John Williams, the publisher of John
Wilkes's _North Briton_, and many other offenders against
parliamentary privilege, suffered the penalty of their crimes.
Westminster Hall lies nearly due north and south. At its south-east
angle, stretching towards the river, stands St. Stephen's Hall, on the
site of that famous Chapel, founded by King Stephen and called after
his sainted namesake, which was for so long the home of the Commons.
The Chapel was partly destroyed by fire in 1298, but was subsequently
restored at great cost by Edward III., who also built an adjacent
belfry of stone and timber containing three huge bells which were rung
at "coronations, triumphs, funerals of princes, and their obits."[103]
After the Reformation the thirteenth century decorations which
originally adorned the walls of St. Stephen's Chapel were whitewashed
and covered with boards, and the building was given over to
Parliament.
[103] These bells must have been extremely unpopular, since it was
fabled that their ringing "soured all the drink in the town." Stow's
"Survey of London," p. 175.
Though the Three Estates originally sat together, they seem to have
deliberated separately. Parliament used to meet occasionally in the
Priory Church of Blackfriars Monastery, but when the Houses parted
company a chamber in the Palace of Westminster was reserved for the
Lords, while the Commons retired to the Chapter House of the Abbey.
Later on they assembled in or near Westminster Hall--Richard II. held
a parliament in a building erected for the purpose outside the Great
Hall--and finally, about the year 1550, St. Stephen's Chapel was fixed
upon as the regular meeting-place of the Commons.
The Chapel was an oblong building, but half as long and half as broad
as Westminster Hall, and most of the floor space was occupied by the
Lobby. It was a gloomy and narrow chamber, and what the German
traveller Moritz calls "mean-looking." At the western end was a
gallery to which members ascended by means of a ladder near the
southern window.[104] At the eastern end stood the Speaker's chair,
and opposite it the famous bar where so many persons have stood,
either as prisoners, witnesses, or patriots. Here Pepys, buoyed up
with brandy, appeared to answer the charges that had been brought
against the Navy Office in 1667-8. Here, a century and a half later,
Mrs. Clarke, the Duke of York's discarded mistress, was examined for
two hours on the subject of his alleged corrupt sale of
commissions--an ordeal from which she emerged triumphantly. At this
bar victorious soldiers, from the days of Schomberg to those of
Wellington, have received the thanks of Parliament for the services
they rendered to their country. And many a trembling prisoner has
stood here to receive sentence or reprimand at the mouth of the
Speaker.
[104] Speaker Lenthall once rebuked a youthful member who was sitting
perched upon the topmost rung, listening to a debate, and bade him
come down and not "sit upon the ladder as though he were going to be
hanged." Forster's "Historical Sketches," vol. i. p. 82.
On either side of the old House were ranged rows of wooden benches,
hard and comfortless, with neither backs nor covering. Not even were
Ministers provided with padded seats.
"No satin covering decks th' unsightly boards;
No velvet cushion holds the youthful Lords;
And claim illustrious tails such small regard?
Ah! Tails too tender for a seat so hard!"[105]
[105] "The Rolliad."
St Stephen's Chapel was in size quite inadequate to the needs of
legislators--the only point, perhaps, in which it resembled the
present House of Commons. David Hume complained perpetually of the
lack of room; while Cobbett cynically referred to it as "the little
hole into which we are all crammed to make the laws by which this
great kingdom is governed."[106] Lined with dark wainscot and lit by
three chandeliers, the gloomy chamber did not impress the stranger
with the dignity or splendour of parliaments, and a visitor to St
Stephen's might well have been excused for mistaking the House of
Commons for a den of thieves or a crew of midnight conspirators.[107]
[106] Dalling's "Historical Characters," vol. ii. p. 175.
[107] Knight's "London," vol. ii. p. 68.
As was only natural, the dingy surroundings exercised a detrimental
influence upon the manners of members. Moritz was surprised to see
many of them lying stretched out at full length on the uncomfortable
benches fast asleep, while others cracked nuts or ate oranges. "The
many rude things the members said to one another," he observes sadly,
"struck me much."[108] Not only was the House squalid and dirty, it
was also infested with rats. Speaker Manners Sutton told Thomas Moore
that the only time he had ever laughed while occupying the Chair was
during a debate in which members of the Opposition had been squabbling
fiercely together, when he saw a large rat issue from beneath the
front Opposition bench and walk deliberately across to the Treasury
side of the House.[109]
[108] Pinkerton's "Voyages," vol. ii. p. 508.
[109] Moore's "Memoirs," vol. iv. p. 320.
The Lobby of St Stephen's was, if possible, the scene of even greater
discomfort and squalor than was the House itself. It was perpetually
crowded, not only with members and their servants, but also with the
general public, and was "as noisy as a Jews' synagogue." Pearson, for
many years head doorkeeper of the Commons, tells us that orange women
traded there regularly, selling their wares to thirsty politicians
during the sitting of the House. One old woman named Drybutter was a
great favourite among a certain class of members, and knew more of
their private affairs (we are told) than "all the old bawds in
Christendom put together."[110] Another, Mullins by name, "a young,
plump, crummy, rosy looking wench, with clean white silk stockings,
Turkey leather shoes, pink silk _short_ petticoat, to show her ancle
to the young bulls and old goats of the House," appealed especially to
the more amorous members.
"Mark how her winning smiles and 'witching eyes
On yonder unfledg'd orator she tries!
Mark with what grace she offers to his hand
The tempting orange, pride of China's land!"[111]
[110] Pearson's "Political Dictionary," p. 37.
[111] "The Rolliad."
She was said to have killed more men with her eyes and sighs than did
many a general with his canister and grape-shot in the American war.
Oranges and biscuits were not, as may be imagined, this fascinating
creature's sole stock in trade.
In Stuart days the walls of St Stephen's Chapel were temporarily
brightened by the presence of the tapestry which Charles II. hung
there. This, however, was taken down in 1706. About a hundred years
later, when alterations were being made to provide accommodation for
the recently added Irish members, the old thirteenth-century mural
paintings were discovered beneath the wainscot. No one, however, seems
to have realised their value, and they were carelessly allowed to
perish, sharing the fate that befell the curious old tapestries which
once adorned the walls of the famous Painted Chamber.
This Painted Chamber, which lay between the two Houses of Parliament,
was the original Council Chamber of the Norman kings. Here parliaments
were opened, and conferences of both Houses held. Its walls were hung
with tapestry on which were depicted various scenes from the Siege of
Troy. This was removed at the commencement of the nineteenth century
and thrown into a cellar, being subsequently sold in 1820 for the
paltry sum of £10, and beneath it was found the series of
paintings--representing the Wars of the Maccabees and scenes from the
life of Edward the Confessor--from which the Chamber derived its name.
It was in this apartment that the death warrant of Charles I. was
signed, when Oliver Cromwell and Henry Martin distinguished themselves
by childishly blacking one another's faces with ink. Here Charles II.
lay in state after his death, as did also Chatham and William Pitt.
Adjoining the Painted Chamber was the room in which the Peers formerly
met and sat, and which may therefore be styled the old House of Lords.
The Prince's Chamber, afterwards the Robing Room of the Lords, was
decorated with elaborate tapestries, of Dutch workmanship,
representing the destruction of the Spanish Armada, which had been
presented to Queen Elizabeth by the States of Holland, and
subsequently sold by Lord Howard to James I. These tapestries were
afterwards transferred to the Court of Requests, and, when the greater
part of the Palace of Westminster was destroyed by fire in October,
1834, perished in the flames.
It was proposed, in 1834, to find temporary quarters for the Court of
Bankruptcy in the old tally-room of the exchequer. For this purpose it
became necessary to remove several cartloads of old "tallies" which
had accumulated during past years and were likely to interfere with
the arrangements. These tallies were nothing but pieces of wood on
which were recorded by a primitive method of notches the sums paid
into the exchequer. The system dated from the Conquest and, though it
had been officially abolished in 1783, was still in use as late as
1826. Old tallies were usually burnt on bonfires in Tothill fields or
in Palace Yard, but in 1834 some official of an economical turn of
mind decided to make use of them as fuel for the stoves of the House
of Lords. The workmen engaged upon the work shared with all honest
British labourers the desire to finish their job as quickly as
possible and get home to their tea. They consequently piled the
tallies into the stoves with more energy than discretion, little
dreaming of the possible effect upon the overheated furnaces.
At four o'clock in the afternoon of the 16th of October, some visitors
who were being shown round the House of Lords observed that the floor
was very hot under their feet, and that the Chamber seemed to be half
filled with smoke. They were reassured by the officials, and no
further notice was taken of their remarks. Two hours later the tallies
had done their work, the flues were red-hot, one of the walls was well
alight, and flames were seen to be issuing from the windows of the
House. The alarm was immediately given. Fire-engines were hastily
summoned to the scene, and police and troops assembled in force in
Palace Yard.
The appliances for coping with any but the mildest of conflagrations
were then altogether inadequate, and it soon became evident that most
of the Palace was doomed. Vast crowds had meanwhile gathered to
witness the destruction of the parliament building, while peers and
members hastened to Westminster to assist in the work of salvage.
Hume, who had so often tried to obtain for the Commons a Chamber more
suitable to their needs, was one of the first to arrive, and did
yeoman service in saving the contents of the House of Commons
Library.[112] He was chaffingly accused of being the author of the
fire, and, as the ancient home of the Commons rose in smoke to the
sky, his friends declared that his motion for a new House was being
"carried without a division." Lord Althorp, another interested
spectator, cared even less for the preservation of St. Stephen's
Chapel than did Hume. "D---- the House of Commons!" he cried, "Save,
oh, save the Hall!"[113] His wish was gratified, and Westminster
Hall, together with the old House of Lords and the Painted Chamber,
was among the few buildings snatched from the flames. St. Stephen's
Crypt, situated underneath the old House of Commons, survived not only
the fire, but also the subsequent rebuilding.
[112] A comparatively modern institution which did not exist until the
year 1818.
[113] Miss Martineau's "History of the Peace," vol. iii. p. 147.
When the flames had at last been extinguished, or had died down from
sheer lack of fuel, and the extent of the damage had been ascertained,
Parliament assembled once more--the Lords in what remained of their
library, the Commons in one of the surviving committee rooms. It was
then decided temporarily to fit up the old House of Lords for the use
of the Commons, and to relegate the Peers to the Painted Chamber,
until steps could be taken to provide the Great Council of the nation
with a more suitable home.
In the following year, British architects were invited to submit
designs for the new Houses of Parliament, which it was proposed to
erect on the site of the old Palace of Westminster, and, in 1836, the
design of Charles Barry was selected from some ninety-seven others.
With as little delay as possible the work was put into the hands of
the successful competitor, and on April, 27, 1840, the first stone was
laid without ceremony by the architect's wife.
From that moment until the completion of the building, poor Barry's
life was made a burden to him by the continual petty interference of
the authorities. Perpetual squabbles arose between the architect and
the superintending officials over every point of the construction--even
the contract for the manufacture of the clock gave rise to an acrimonious
controversy--while the question of expense was a never ending source of
worry and difficulty.
[Illustration: THE REMAINS OF ST. STEPHEN'S CHAPEL AFTER THE FIRE OF
1834
FROM A LITHOGRAPH AFTER THE DRAWING BY JOHN TAYLOR, JR.]
Barry's original design had included the enclosing of New Palace Yard,
and the building of a huge gate-tower at the angles. He had also
proposed to make Victoria Tower the chief feature of a big quadrangle,
whence a splendid processional approach should extend to Buckingham
Palace. The cost of such a scheme, however, precluded its
execution, and the architect had to content himself with the present
magnificent group of buildings, too well known to require detailed
description, which form the best possible memorial to Sir Charles
Barry's genius.[114]
[114] Barry was assisted in his work by another well-known artist,
Augustus Welby Pugin. The latter's son afterwards claimed for his
father the honour of being the real designer of the Houses of
Parliament, but his efforts to wrest the laurels from Barry's brow met
with little success.
In 1852 Queen Victoria entered the new Houses of Parliament for the
first time, and some eight years later the whole building was
completed.
The fire of 1834 proved a blessing in disguise. The ancient congeries
of huddled buildings, to which additions had been made in various
styles by so many kings, and which went by the name of the Palace of
Westminster, had long ceased to provide a suitable home for the Mother
of Parliaments. From the ashes of the royal residence arose at length
a structure worthy to rank with any legislative building in the world,
and adequate to the requirements of that national council which
controls the destiny of the British Empire.
Towering above both Houses stands the lofty clock-tower which is one
of the landmarks of the metropolis. From its summit "Big Ben"--the
successor to "Great Tom of Westminster"--booms forth the hours, while
still higher burns that nightly light which shows to a sleeping city
that the faithful Commons remain vigilant and at work.[115]
[115] Big Ben was so named after Sir Benjamin Hall, First Commissioner
of Works. The light is extinguished by an official in the House of
Commons by means of an electric switch, the moment the Speaker's
question "that the House do now adjourn" has been agreed to.
The new Upper Chamber, with its harmonious decorations of gilt and
stained glass, its crimson benches, and its atmosphere of dignity and
repose, supplies a perfect stage for the leisurely deliberations of
our hereditary legislators, and forms a becoming background for such
picturesque pageants as the Opening of Parliament.
The present House of Commons, though too small to accommodate a full
assemblage of its members, makes up in comfort for what it may lack in
space. The Chamber is illuminated by a strong light from the glass
roof above; the green benches are cushioned and comfortable. At one
end is the Speaker's chair, and in front of it the table--that
"substantial piece of furniture," as Disraeli called it, when he
thanked Providence that its bulk was interposed between Mr. Gladstone
and himself--upon which Sir Robert Peel used to strike resonant blows
at regular two-minute intervals during his speeches. On this table
lies the heavy despatch-box which countless Premiers have thumped, and
which still bears the impress of Gladstone's signet ring. Here, too,
reposes the mace, that ancient symbol of the royal authority.
The mace is, perhaps, the most important article of furniture--if it
can be so described--in the House. Its absence or loss is an even more
appalling catastrophe than would be the absence of the Speaker. It is
possible to provide a substitute for the latter, but there is no
deputy-mace, and without it the House cannot be held to be properly
constituted. The present mace is engraved with the initials "C. R."
and the royal arms, and is the one that was made at the Restoration,
to replace Cromwell's "bauble," which disappeared with the Crown plate
in 1649. It is kept at the Tower of London when the House is not
sitting, and the fact that its absence prevents the conduct of any
business has been, on one occasion at least, the cause of grave
inconvenience. In the middle of the last century Parliament adjourned
for the day in order to attend a great naval review at Spithead, and
was timed to meet again at 10 p.m. The special return-train containing
members of the House of Commons was run in two portions, and the
official who held the key of the mace-cupboard happened to be
travelling in the second. As this was an hour late in arriving, the
House had to postpone its meeting until eleven at night.[116]
[116] Mowbray's "Seventy Years at Westminster," p. 90.
Upon the position of the mace a great deal depends. When the mace
lies _upon_ the table, says Hatsell, the House is a House; "when
_under_, it is a Committee. When _out_ of the House, no business can
be done; when _from_ the table and upon the Sergeant's shoulder, the
Speaker alone manages." On the famous occasion in 1626, when Sir John
Eliot offered a remonstrance against "tonnage and poundage," when
Speaker Finch refused to put the question, and the House almost came
to blows, Sergeant-at-Arms Edward Grimston tried to close the sitting
by removing the mace. At once a fiery member, Sir Miles Hobart, seized
it from him, replaced it on the table, locked the door of the House,
and put the key in his pocket, thus excluding Black Rod, who was on
his way to the Commons with a message from the king.
The Sergeant-at-Arms is custodian of the mace. Attired in his
tight-fitting black coat, knee-breeches, and buckled shoes, with his
sword at his side, he carries it ceremoniously upon his shoulder
whenever he accompanies the Speaker in or out of the Chamber. He is
also, as we shall see, responsible for the maintenance of order within
the precincts of the House, and is provided with a chair near the Bar,
whence he can obtain a good view of the whole Chamber.
The arrangements made for the convenience and personal comfort of a
modern legislator are of the most elaborate and thoughtful kind.
Members of the Government, Whips, and the Leader of the Opposition are
provided with private rooms in which to do their work. The needs of
humbler politicians are no less carefully considered. By means of an
intricate system of ventilation the atmosphere of both Houses is
maintained at an equable temperature, summer and winter. The very air
inhaled by our politicians is so cleansed and rarefied by a system of
water-sprays, of cotton-wool screens and ice-chambers, that it reaches
their lungs in a filtered condition, free from all those impurities of
dust and fog which are part of the less-favoured Londoner's daily
pabulum.
The statesman who seeks a momentary relaxation from the arduous duties
of the Chamber can find repose in comfortable smoking-rooms where
easy-chairs abound. He may stroll upon the Terrace in the cool of the
evening, enjoying the society of such lady friends as he may have
invited to tea, and watching the stately procession of barges and
steamers that flows by him. (Occasionally the barges are loaded with
unsavoury refuse, of which his scandalized nostrils are made
unpleasantly aware. Sometimes, too, some wag in a passing
excursion-boat facetiously bids him return to his work in the House.)
Heated by an unusually warm debate, or tired out by a lengthy sitting,
he may retire to spend a pleasant half-hour in luxurious bathrooms,
whence division bells summon him in vain. His intellectual wants are
ministered to in well-furnished libraries, whose courteous custodians
are ever ready to impart information, to look up parliamentary
precedents, and otherwise to add to his store of knowledge. His inner
man is generously catered for by a Kitchen Committee, composed of the
gourmets of the House, who choose his wine and cigars, and watch over
the cooking of his food with a vigilant and fastidious eye. His meals
are appetising and at the same time inexpensive, and, as he sits in
the spacious dining-rooms set apart for his use, his mind may travel
back with kindly scorn to the days when his political ancestors drank
their cups of soup at Alice's coffee-house, munched the homely fare
supplied in Bellamy's kitchen, or satisfied their hunger in even
simpler fashion on the benches of the House itself. Lord Morpeth, who
was a Minister of the Crown in 1840, used always to suck oranges on
the Treasury bench during the course of his own speeches. Fox ate
innumerable dry biscuits on the hottest nights. David Hume, whose
devotion to duty prevented him from leaving his seat in the Chamber,
was in the habit of providing himself with a generous supply of pears,
which he consumed while his less conscientious colleagues were slaking
their thirst in Bellamy's finest port.[117] During a twenty-one hours'
sitting in August, 1880, a member (Mr. A. M. Sullivan) brought a
large bag of buns into the House, and enjoyed what Mr. Labouchère
called "a palpable supper."[118] The sight of a member of Parliament
enjoying an _al fresco_ meal under the eye of the Speaker would to-day
arouse indignant shouts of "Order!" Even the simple sandwich is taboo
in the Chamber of either House, and nothing more solid or more potent
than a glass of pure well-water, or perhaps an egg-flip, can be
partaken of during debate.
[117] Francis' "Orators of the Age," p. 212, and Grant's "Random
collections," p. 7.
[118] T. P. O'Connor's "Gladstone's House of Commons," p. 88.
Could Pitt return to the scene of his former triumphs, he would indeed
marvel at the splendours of the modern parliamentary restaurant--Pitt,
whose thoughts even upon his deathbed are said to have reverted
lovingly to the delights of the old House of Commons kitchen. "I think
I could eat one of Bellamy's pork pies" were the great statesman's
last words as he expired at Putney in January, 1806, and it was no
doubt at Bellamy's humble board that he drank many a bottle of that
wine for which he entertained so strong a predilection.
Pearson, the famous doorkeeper of the House of Commons, has described
Bellamy's as "a damn'd good house, upstairs, where I have drank many a
pipe of red port. Here the members, who cannot say more than 'Yes' or
'No' below, can speechify for hours to Mother Bellamy about
beef-steaks and pork-chops. Sir Watkin Lewes always dresses them there
himself; and I'll be curst if he ben't a choice hand at a beef-steak
and a bottle, as well as a pot and a pipe."[119]
[119] Pearson's "Political Dictionary," p. 19.
Dickens, in his "Sketches by Boz," has left a picture of that
old-fashioned eating-room, with the large open fire, the
roasting-jack, the gridiron, the deal tables and wax candles, the
damask linen cloths, and the bare floor, where peers and members of
Parliament assembled with their friends[120] to sit over their modest
meals until it was time for a division, or, as Sheil says, "the
whipper-in aroused them to the only purpose for which their existence
was recognized."
[120] "25 April, 1822. Eat cold meat at Bellamy's (introduced by
Lambton); and did not leave the House till near two."--Thomas Moore's
"Memoirs," vol. iii. p. 346.
Old Bellamy, a wine-merchant by profession, was in 1773 appointed
Deputy-Housekeeper to the House of Commons, and provided with a
kitchen, a dining-room, and a small subsidy to cover his expenses as
parliamentary caterer. After nearly forty years' service in this
capacity he was succeeded by his son John, who continued to control
the culinary department until well into the last century. Refreshments
of a serious kind were not really required by politicians until the
days when Parliament took to sitting late at night. In 1848, however,
Bellamy's system of supplying members with food was not considered
sufficiently adequate, and a select committee was appointed to inquire
into it. As soon as Parliament reassembled in the new Palace of
Westminster, after the fire, the catering of the House of Commons was
taken over by a Kitchen Committee, while that of the Lords was placed
in the hands of a contractor.
In the days of the Bellamys the charges for solid refreshments were
not really high--the caterer relied very largely for his profits upon
the sale of wine--but in comparison with the tariff of to-day they
must appear exorbitant. For half-a-crown Bellamy provided his patrons
with a meal consisting of cold meat, bread and cheese; double that sum
secured a liberal dinner, which included tart and a salad. Claret cost
10s. a bottle, while a similar quantity of port and madeira was to be
had for 6_s._ or 8_s._ To-day a member of Parliament can be supplied
with a dinner of several courses for the modest sum of 1_s._, and
every item on the daily bill of fare is proportionately inexpensive.
Bellamy's was not only the eating-place of Parliament; it also partook
of some of the qualities of the modern smoking-room as a refuge from
debate. The sudden concourse of members who came hurrying into the
kitchen as soon as a bore rose to his feet in the House has been
amusingly described by Sheil in his essay on John Leslie Foster. Poor
Mr. Foster seems to have exercised an extraordinarily clearing effect
upon the House. The first words of his speech were the signal for a
unanimous excursion of his fellows, and he was left in full possession
of that solitude which he ever had the unrivalled power of creating.
Members hastened to the kitchen where the tiresome voice of the
parliamentary bore could not penetrate, and there indulged themselves
in conversation, eked out with tea or stronger beverages. "The scene
which Bellamy's presents to a stranger is striking enough," says
Sheil. "Two smart girls, whose briskness and neat attire made up for
their want of beauty, and for the invasions of time, of which their
cheeks showed the traces, helped out tea in a room in the corridor. It
was pleasant to observe the sons of dukes and marquises, and the
possessors of twenties and thirties of thousands a year, gathered
round these damsels, and soliciting a cup of that beverage which it
was their office to administer. These Bellamy barmaids seemed so
familiarized with their occupation that they went through it with
perfect nonchalance, and would occasionally turn with petulance, in
which they asserted the superiority of their sex to rank and opulence,
from the noble or wealthy suitors for a draught of tea, by whom they
were surrounded." The unfortunate Irish members, we are told, were
regarded with a peculiar disdain, being continually reminded of their
provinciality by the scornful looks of these parliamentary Hebes, who
treated them "as mere colonial deputies should be received in the
purlieus of the State." Dickens, too, describes how one of the
waitresses, Jane by name, who was something of a character, would
playfully dig the handle of a fork into the arm of some too amorous
member who sought to detain her.[121] "I passed from these
ante-chambers to the tavern," continues Sheil, "where I found a number
of members assembled at dinner. Half an hour had passed away,
tooth-picks and claret were now beginning to appear, and the business
of mastication being concluded, that of digestion had commenced, and
many an honourable gentleman, I observed, seemed to prove that he was
born only to digest. At the end of a long corridor which opened from
the room where the diners were assembled, there stood a waiter, whose
office it was to inform any interrogator what gentleman was speaking
below stairs. Nearly opposite the door sat two English county members.
They had disposed of a bottle each, and just as the last glass was
emptied, one of them called out to the annunciator at the end of the
passage for intelligence. 'Mr. Foster on his legs,' was the formidable
answer. 'Waiter, bring another bottle!' was the immediate effect of
this information, which was followed by a similar injunction from
every table in the room. I perceived that Mr. Bellamy owed great
obligations to Mr. Foster. But the latter did not limit himself to a
second bottle; again and again the same question was asked, and again
the same announcement was returned--'Mr. Foster upon his legs!' The
answer seemed to fasten men in inseparable adhesiveness to their
seats. Thus hours went by, when, at length, 'Mr. Plunket on his legs!'
was heard from the end of the passage, and the whole convocation of
compotators rose together and returned to the House."[122]
[121] "Sketches by Boz," p. 109 (1855).
[122] Sheil's "Sketches of the Irish Bar," vol. ii. p. 236.
Alas! Bellamy's roaring fire is long extinguished, his candles have
burnt down to their sockets, and been replaced by electric light. The
comfortable days of lengthy dinners are past and gone, and the modern
member has barely time to snatch a hasty meal in the Commons'
dining-room ere he returns to the bustle and confusion of the House.
Things have indeed changed since the leisurely days when Bellamy could
adequately cater for the needs of Parliament. His small staff and
humble kitchen would have but little chance of satisfying modern
requirements in an age when over a hundred thousand meals are served
to members and their friends in the course of a single session.
CHAPTER V
HIS MAJESTY'S SERVANTS
Parliament is not an administrative body. Summoned by the Crown, with
its assent it passes laws, gives and takes away rights, authorises and
directs taxation and expenditure; but in executive business the Crown
acts through Ministers who are not appointed by Parliament, though
undoubtedly responsible to it for their conduct.
Alfred the Great called together Councils, which in some ways
resembled our present Cabinets or the Privy Council, to consider such
measures as were afterwards submitted to the Witenagemot. In William
the Conqueror's time the _Curia Regis_ was the Great Council which he
consulted on questions of State policy. Later on, in Henry I.'s reign,
the King formed a smaller consultative body from the royal household,
whose duty it was to deal with administrative details, legislation
being left in the hands of the National Council.
In Tudor days the Sovereign had almost dispensed with Parliament
altogether--in the course of Queen Elizabeth's lengthy reign it was
only summoned thirteen times--and the country was governed
autocratically by the monarch, with the aid of his Privy Council. This
advisory body varied in size from year to year. In Henry VIII.'s reign
it consisted of about a dozen members; later on, the number was much
increased. In time the Privy Council became too large and cumbersome
an assembly to act together without friction, and was gradually
subdivided into various committees, to each of which was given some
specific legislative function.
In the reign of Edward VI. one of these smaller bodies was known as
the Committee of State, and from this has slowly developed the Cabinet
to which we are accustomed to-day. When the Great Council of Peers was
convened at York in 1640, the Committee of State was reproachfully
referred to as the "Cabinet Council,"--from the fact that its meetings
were held in a small room in the Royal Palace,--and afterwards as the
"Juncto." It consisted of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Earl of
Strafford, and a few other leading men, and met at odd times to
discuss important intelligence, the Privy Council only meeting when
specially summoned.
James I. acquired the habit of entrusting his confidence to a few
advisers, and his successors followed suit. The inner council, or
cabal, thus originated, was the cause of much parliamentary jealousy
and popular suspicion. After the fall of Clarendon in 1677, and of
Danby twelve years later, Charles II. promised, in accordance with the
general desire, to be governed by the Privy Council, and to have no
secrets from that body. It soon became evident, however, that the King
had no intention of keeping his promise, and the Remonstrance of 1682
complained that great affairs of State were still managed "in Cabinet
Councils, by men unknown, and not publicly trusted."
In Stuart days the Commons had grown in strength from year to year,
and the Privy Council had weakened proportionately, though it had
increased in size. Besides being so unwieldy as to be impracticable
for administrative purposes, it was largely composed of men who were
not in any way fitted for the post of responsible advisers. Naunton,
writing of Elizabeth's day, observed that "there were of the Queen's
Councell that were not in the Catalogue of Saints."[123] And much the
same criticism would apply to the Privy Councillors of Stuart times.
The inner Cabinet, therefore, gradually assumed all the more important
functions of the Legislature, and eventually became the ruling power
in the State.
[123] "Fragmenta Regalia," p. 23.
In the time of Charles II. the Ministry was not a united body, but was
composed of men of different political opinions, each of whom held his
office at the King's pleasure. The Cabinet long remained, therefore,
in a disorganised and subordinate condition, largely dependent upon
the royal will. Under the Tudors and Stuarts, Ministers were the
masters or servants of the Crown, according as the Sovereign was a
weak or a strong one. They did not necessarily sit in Parliament, nor
did they act together in response to the views of a parliamentary
majority. The Cabinet itself consisted of an inner group of
responsible advisers and an outer circle of members with whom they
often differed fundamentally. There was no need for unanimity of
political thought in the Cabinet of those days, so long as its members
were unanimous in their subservience to the King.
After the Revolution of 1688, however, the powers of the Crown were
limited and those of Parliament extended. Ministers now customarily
sat in Parliament, and gradually acquired unanimity of thought and
purpose, working together with common responsibility and for common
interests.[124] The Cabinet thus became what Walter Bagehot calls a
"combining committee--a hyphen which joins, a buckle which fastens,
the legislative to the executive part of the State"--and remained an
essentially deliberative assembly, as opposed to the Privy Council, or
administrative body.
William III. had begun by convening mixed Cabinets of Whigs and
Tories, but in 1693 he determined to appoint Ministers all of one
party, and in two years his Cabinet was entirely composed of Whigs.
This example was followed by his successor, though unwillingly, and
the Cabinet system, as we understand it to-day, may be said to date
from the moment when Godolphin forced Queen Anne to accept Sunderland,
and, later, to remove Harley, in accordance with the views expressed
by the country at elections.
[124] It is not absolutely necessary for a Cabinet Minister to sit in
either House. Gladstone was a Secretary of State from December 1845,
to July, 1846, without a seat in Parliament.
By this time Parliament had learnt to tolerate the idea of a Cabinet,
and the word itself appears for the first time officially in the
Lords' Address to the Queen in 1711. In that year a lengthy debate
took place on the meaning of the words "Cabinet Council," several
peers preferring the term "Ministers." Among the latter was the Earl
of Peterborough, who declared that sometimes there was no Minister at
all in the Cabinet Council. He seems to have regarded the members of
the Privy Council and of the Cabinet with equal contempt. The Privy
Councillors, he said, "were such as were thought to know everything
and knew nothing, and the Cabinet Councillors those who thought that
nobody knew anything but themselves."
When Walpole was Prime Minister, the country was governed by three
bodies--the Great Council, somewhat similar to the modern Privy
Council; the Committee of Council, a smaller assembly which met at the
Cockpit in Whitehall, and seems to have concerned itself chiefly with
foreign affairs; and the Cabinet.
[Illustration: SIR ROBERT WALPOLE
FROM THE PAINTING BY FRANCIS HAYMAN, R.A., IN THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT
GALLERY]
The members of the Cabinet varied in number from eight to fourteen,
and included the Great Officers of the Royal Household. In April,
1740, for instance, it consisted of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the
Lord Chancellor, the Lord President of the Council, the Lord Privy
Seal, the Lord Steward, the Lord Chamberlain, the Master of the Horse,
the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, two Secretaries of State, the Groom of
the Stole, the First Minister for Scotland, the Chancellor of the
Exchequer, the First Commissioner of the Admiralty, and the Master of
the Ordnance. Besides these, the Duke of Bolton was also included, for
the somewhat inadequate reason that "he had been of it seven years
ago."[125] As such an immense body must have been quite unmanageable
from a business point of view, there also existed an interior council,
consisting of Walpole, the Lord Chancellor, and the two Secretaries of
State, who consulted together, in the first instance, on the more
confidential points, and reported the result of their deliberations
to the rest of the Cabinet.
[125] Hervey's "Memoirs of George II.," vol. ii. p. 551.
The size and composition of a Cabinet is a question which has always
been left entirely to the discretion of the Prime Minister. In 1770
and 1783, when Lord North and Pitt were Premiers, the number was
reduced to seven. Later on, this was increased; but Lord Wellesley, in
1812, expressed his conviction that thirteen was an inconveniently
large number, and Sir Robert Peel, some twenty years later, declared
that the Executive Government would be infinitely better conducted by
a Cabinet composed of only nine members.
Among His Majesty's advisers in Georgian days, and earlier, peers
usually preponderated. The younger Pitt was the only Commoner in his
first Cabinet. Nowadays both Houses are suitably represented.
There is no definite rule laid down as to which posts in the
Administration carry with them a seat in the Cabinet; but the First
Lord of the Treasury, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the First Lord
of the Admiralty, the Lord President of the Council, the Lord Privy
Seal, and the Lord Chancellor are invariably included. Statesmen who
hold no office at all, as we have seen in the case of the Duke of
Bolton, have occasionally been given a seat. Hyde, afterwards Lord
Clarendon, sat in Charles I.'s Cabinet without office; and, later on,
Lord Fitzwilliam, the Duke of Wellington, and Lord John Russell were
each accorded a similar privilege. Lord Mansfield, on his elevation to
the seat of the Lord Chief Justice, in 1756, became a member of the
Cabinet, and did not cease to take part in the discussions until 1765.
The precedent he thus created was afterwards cited in the case of Lord
Ellenborough, another Lord Chief Justice, who was admitted to the
Cabinet of "All the Talents" in 1806. By this time, however, the
inclusion of any but the actual holders of parliamentary offices was
considered unusual, and it has never been repeated.
Cabinet meetings in Charles II.'s time were first of all held twice a
week, and then on Sunday evenings. It was long customary for the
Sovereign to be present, and Queen Anne presided regularly over these
Sunday gatherings. Indeed, the absence of the King from Cabinet
meetings did not occur until the time of George I., and only arose
from that monarch's inability to speak English. Since his day,
however, no Sovereign has thought it necessary, or even politic, to
attend.
Besides the regular official meetings of the Cabinet, informal
gatherings of Ministers were occasionally convened. Walpole used often
to invite a few colleagues to dinner to discuss the affairs of the
nation, and in the Aberdeen Government a Cabinet dinner was held
weekly.[126] After the tablecloth had been removed, and the port began
to circulate, measures of State were agitated and discussed, and
questions of policy decided upon. Whether Ministers were always in a
condition fit for the consideration of such grave topics is a matter
of doubt. Lord Chancellor Thurlow sometimes refused to take part in
these post-prandial discussions. "He has even more than once left his
colleagues to deliberate," says Wraxall, "whilst he sullenly stretched
himself along the chair, and fell, or appeared to fall, fast
asleep."[127]
[126] "Our immemorial Cabinet Dinner was at Lord Lonsdale's," writes
Lord Malmesbury, on March 17, 1852. "Each of us gives one on a
Wednesday."--"Memoirs of an Ex-Minister," vol. i. p. 321.
[127] Wraxall's "Memoirs," vol. i. p. 527.
The Cabinet no longer meets on Sundays, and the practice of holding
weekly dinners has been given up. It has no regular times of
assembling, but can be summoned at any moment when the Prime Minister
wishes to consult his colleagues. It is not necessary for all the
members of the Cabinet to be present, as no quorum is needed to
validate the proceedings, nor is there any rule laid down as to the
length of a Cabinet meeting, which may last from a brief half-hour to
as much as half a day.[128]
[128] "Granville dined at the Lord Chancellor's yesterday," wrote Lady
Granville to the Duke of Devonshire, on November 8, 1830, when the
question of the postponement of the King's visit to the city was
filling the minds of Ministers. "The Chancellor came in after they
were all seated from a Cabinet that had lasted five hours, returned to
be at it again till two, and the result you see in the papers."--Lady
Granville's "Letters," vol. ii. p. 63.
The chief point with regard to Cabinet meetings is their absolute
secrecy. No minutes are kept, no secretary or clerk is present, and
only in exceptional circumstances is some private record made of any
matter that may have been discussed. The meetings are usually held at
No. 10, Downing Street, the official residence of the Prime Minister,
or occasionally at the Foreign Office, a practice instituted by Lord
Salisbury when he was Foreign Secretary, his Cabinet being so large
that the room in Downing Street could barely contain it.
In George II.'s time, No. 10, Downing Street--called after Sir George
Downing, a statesman of Charles II.'s day, whom Pepys styles "a
niggardly fellow"--belonged to the Crown, and was the town residence
of Bothmar, the Hanoverian Minister. On the latter's death, King
George offered the house to Walpole as a gift. The Prime Minister
declined it, however, and suggested that it should henceforward
accompany the offices of the First Lord of the Treasury and the
Chancellor of the Exchequer. Externally the Prime Minister's house is
not a very imposing structure, but the traditions attached to it as
the official residence of so many eminent Englishmen enchance its
value in the eyes of its occupants and of the public.
Here, then, the Cabinet assembles to discuss the problems of Empire,
whose solution at times of stress the country awaits with such
breathless interest. Here the Prime Minister presides over that
assembly which, however internally discordant, must ever present an
harmonious and united front to the public. The decisions arrived at by
"His Majesty's Servants"--no longer known as the "Lords of the Cabinet
Council," as in olden times--must always be presumably unanimous. Each
Minister is held responsible for the opinions of the Cabinet as a
whole. His only escape from such responsibility lies in resignation,
in either sense of that word. The defending and supporting in public
of what they are really opposed to in private, is the common practice
of Ministers. It is thought that one man's scruples should yield to
the judgment of the many, and "minorities must suffer" that
Governments may be carried on and Ministries remain undivided.[129]
There is a well-known story of Lord Melbourne's Ministry which
illustrates this point. The Government had proposed to put an
eight-shilling duty on corn. Melbourne, who was strongly opposed to
the tax, found himself out-voted and overruled by the other members of
the Cabinet. At the end of the meeting he put his back against the
door. "Now, is it to lower the price of corn, or isn't it?" he asked.
"It doesn't much matter what we say, but mind, we must all say the
same!" In 1860, again, Lord Palmerston as Prime Minister was in favour
of the House of Lords throwing out the Paper Duties Bill, which was
the measure of his own Chancellor of the Exchequer.
[129] See Speaker Onslow's "Essay on Opposition," "Hist. MSS.
Commission" (1895), App. ix. p. 460.
It is not perhaps easy to imagine a modern Premier being placed in a
situation similar to that of either Lord Melbourne or Lord Palmerston.
He must necessarily, to a certain extent, have the whip hand of the
Cabinet. For if several of his colleagues disagree with him on a
question of principle, and resign, he can generally appoint others;
whereas, if he resigns, the whole Ministry crumbles and falls to
pieces.
The Prime Minister nowadays has indeed acquired a position which is
almost that of a dictator. In many ways his power is absolute and his
will autocratic. More especially is this true as regards his dealings
with the Crown. In olden days he was the servant and creature of the
sovereign. He had no voice in the selection of his colleagues; he
acted merely as His Majesty's chief adviser, and, as such, was liable
to instant dismissal. When Pelham resigned in 1746, because he could
no longer agree with the King, he was acting in a fashion that was
then unprecedented. Before that time, a Prime Minister whose views did
not coincide with those of his sovereign, was summarily dismissed.
Many kings had, indeed, been in the habit of themselves undertaking
the duties of Prime Minister--Charles II. delighted in referring to
himself as his own _Premier Ministre_, though he was far too indolent
to perform the work of that official--and merely looked upon their
chief adviser as a convenient channel of communication between
themselves and Parliament.
It was not until the eighteenth century that a Premier of the modern
type came into existence. With the development of the party system,
the gradual growth of the Cabinet's prestige, and the consequent
weakening of the sovereign's prerogatives, the Prime Minister ceased
to be the choice of the Crown, and became the nominee of the nation.
As the leader of the party in office, he acquired the unquestioned
right of selecting his own Ministers. To-day, though the King still
nominally chooses his Prime Minister, little individual freedom is
left to the sovereign, who is guided in his choice by the advice of
the outgoing Premier and his interpretation of the wishes of the
country.
For a very long time the very name of Prime Minister stank in the
nostrils of the public and of Parliament. The word "Premier" was used
in 1746,[130] but as late as 1761 we find George Grenville in a debate
in the Commons declaring "Prime Minister" to be an odious title. The
holder of it long occupied an anomalous position. Legally and
constitutionally he had no superiority over any other Privy
Councillor. Eight members of the Cabinet took precedence of him, by
virtue of office--a fact which naturally resulted in situations
puzzling to the lay mind--the exact rank of the Prime Minister being
apparently impossible to define. When Lord Palmerston visited Scotland
in 1863, the commander of the naval guardship was very anxious to
receive that distinguished statesman with all the ceremony befitting
his exalted position. On the subject of salutes due to a Prime
Minister the naval code-book unfortunately maintained an impenetrable
silence, and gave the officer no information as to how he should act.
He eventually solved the difficulty in a thoroughly tactful manner by
giving Palmerston the salute of nineteen guns which were due to him
as Lord Warden of the Cinq Ports.[131] Mr. Gladstone, who was ever
most punctilious in matters of etiquette, always resolutely declined
to leave a room in front of any person of higher social rank, and many
a youthful peer vainly endeavoured to induce the aged Prime Minister
to precede him.
[130] Coxe's "Pelham Administration," vol. i. p. 486.
[131] Ashley's "Life of Palmerston," vol. ii. p. 233.
The Prime Minister continued to occupy an ambiguous position until
quite recently. It was not, indeed, until the close of Mr. Balfour's
Premiership that his proper precedence was recognised. Matters were
simplified, however, when he held some ministerial office, as First
Lord of the Treasury, Lord President of the Council, or Foreign
Secretary, whereby he became entitled to an adequate salary and an
assured, if inadequate, precedence.
Sir Robert Walpole, who held the Premiership for twenty-one
years--though not consecutively[132]--was the first Prime Minister in
the modern sense of the word, the first to sit in the Commons, and the
first to resign because of an adverse vote of Parliament.
[132] Walpole was First Lord of the Treasury for more than twenty-one
years, but Macaulay says that he cannot be called Prime Minister until
some time after he had been First Lord.--"Miscellaneous Writings," p.
359.
Walpole was in many ways a model Premier. Though not, indeed, as
incorruptible as Harley, he yet possessed many of the qualities which
contributed to that statesman's success.[133] It was not genius, it
was not eloquence, it was not statesmanship that gave Harley his
astounding power in Parliament, as Forster has remarked; it was
"House of Commons tact." Sir Robert Peel, Lord John Russell, and
Disraeli each understood that art of "managing Parliament," which is
probably of far greater value to a Prime Minister than either virtue
or eloquence. Lord Rockingham, George Grenville, and Lord Bute--the
last uttering his words with hesitation and at long intervals, causing
Charles Townshend to liken them to "minute-guns"--each lacked that
power of oratory for which another Premier, Lord Derby, the "Rupert of
debate," was more famous than for any intellectual ability.[134] Lord
Castlereagh had a great influence with his party, and was a most
successful leader of the House of Commons. Yet he was a shocking
speaker, tiresome, involved, and obscure.[135] On one occasion he
harangued the House for an hour, during no single moment of which
could any of his hearers make out what on earth he was driving at "So
much, Mr. Speaker, for the law of nations!" he finally exclaimed, as
he prepared to turn to other matters.
[133] Walpole distributed government patronage freely among the
members of his own family. His relations held offices worth nearly
£15,000 a year, and, two years after he relinquished office, his own
places brought him in an annual income of £2000. He made his eldest
son Auditor of the Exchequer, and his second son Clerk of the Pells.
He gave his son Horace two posts, as Clerk of the Estreats and
Comptroller of the Pipe, when the boy was still an infant. Later on he
gave him a position in the Customs, and lastly made him Usher of the
Exchequer, an office worth about £1000 a year. See "Memoirs of Sir
Robert Walpole," vol. i. p. 730; Cunningham's "Letters of Horace
Walpole," vol. i. pp. lxxxiv. and 314.
[134] "My father would be a very able man--if he knew anything," Lord
Stanley is supposed to have said of him. Hutton's "Studies," p. 48.
[135] "He evidently attempts to imitate Mr. Pitt in his manner and
rhetorick; but the clumsy attempts of a heavy domestic fowl to take
wing are very different from the vivid and lofty soaring of the lark."
Courtney's "Characteristics," p. 42.
Parliament will, indeed, put up with a great deal from a Minister
whose honesty is unquestioned, and who has sufficient common-sense not
to blunder at a moment of crisis. Nowadays, however, no man who was
utterly lacking in ordinary power of speaking would be given a place
on the front bench. A talent for debate may not necessarily be a gauge
of a man's capacity as a Minister, but only in debate can he show his
powers. His success in Parliament is a test of intellect, for there,
at any rate, he cannot conceal departmental ignorance. But it requires
judgment, ability, and tact to become a leader. Charm and personal
magnetism are the qualities that endear a man to his followers. A
kindly word, a smile, or a glance of recognition will of
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