[-12-]
CHAPTER II
THE OPENING OF PARLIAMENT
IT HAS been charged that Americans take their pleasures
seriously. However true this may be, there is nothing in the national
temperament approaching the solemnity which invests all affairs in England that
may be classified under the bead of sport. On the sixth of August, 1895,
therefore, the great London newspapers differed only in the degree of respect
which was shown this important date. The Liberal newspapers headed their list of
"To-day's Arrangements" with "Grouse Shooting Begins,"
endeavoring to tone down the bitterness of their recent defeat with the promise
of better things at hand. The Conservative organs, on the contrary, celebrated
their triumph boldly by leading off with "Meeting of Parliament,"
referring to the fact that grouse shooting had begun, as a secondary
consideration.
Through the courtesy of a distinguished Liberal member I
received a card of admission to the opening ceremonies of the House of Lords
which were fixed for two o'clock on Monday afternoon - the auspicious, or
inauspicious, day according to one's political predilections. Compared to the
very general attendance permitted the public at the sessions of Congress in
Washington, admission to the House of Lords or the Commons appears to be very
difficult to secure. One is informed that invitations are awarded by ballot upon
the application of the members, and must be promptly accepted or declined, so
that, in the latter case, the card may be given to some other friend by
[-13-] the fortunate member to whom the privilege has fallen. The card of
admission, by its modest hint, "morning dress," in the comfortable and
sensible English fashion, designated the proper costume for the occasion, an
important consideration to the visiting stranger.
I took a cab and was deposited at the Peers' entrance of the
Parliament building over which a flag was flying, to indicate that the machinery
of government was about to be set in motion. The curbstones along the adjacent
streets were crowded with throngs of people watching the arrival of notables
whom the British public appear to know quite well by sight, and whom they greet
with observations which, even in my own democratic Country, would be considered
frank. At the entrance of the House of Peers were two polite policemen who
scrupulously examined my card, and passed me on to successive functionaries in
scarlet coats and hats of ancient hereditary pattern covered with gold lace.
These in turn passed me on to other policemen and functionaries, all wearing the
royal badge of office and stationed at regular intervals along a splendid
corridor lighted with stained glass windows and lined with statuary. Up stairs
and down I ascended and descended, until I was shown my place in what, for the
subjects of the Queen, is the court of the last appeal.
As it was an unusual occasion the ladies present were
assigned to the sacred scarlet benches upon what I was informed was the
"opposition side." Several were very plainly dressed, while others
wore broad-brimmed hats covered with flowers and lace, and gowns of light silk,
which were also profusely trimmed with lace. In front of the vacant throne which
was a dais with curtains of scarlet hanging from a canopy and furnished with two
stately coroneted armchairs, was a cushioned bench reserved for the Lords
Commissioners. In the peeresses' gallery was a small and unobstrusive party
talking qui-[-14-]etly among themselves. My
neighbor was an exceedingly agreeable woman, certainly not so stiff and reserved
as an American woman would have been in the gallery of the Senate. She asked
several questions which I was unable to answer, and when I explained that I was
an American, immediately pointed out the celebrities and described the splendors
of the peeresses' gallery during some great night debate when the flower of the
realm were there in state, wearing their coronets and jewels. Finally she said
very modestly and with an apologetic air for having mentioned it at all:
"My niece is a peeress;" but of her own evident
high station she gave no hint.
Presently two clerks in wig and gown arrived and began
arranging papers upon a table in the middle of the chamber. At the door in the
rear a group of bishops, their lawn sleeves making patches of whiteness in the
background, were evidently chaffing each other with much animation, while a
great deal of fraternal hob-nobbing went on among the reporters in the gallery
just over the big clock and facing the throne. One of the representatives of the
press talked with especial emphasis, so that his conversation was distinctly
audible from where we sat. Then the bishops entered from the door about which
they had been standing for some time, and took their seats, still chaffing each
other - cracking ministerial jokes, no doubt, after the manner of the cloth,
irrespective of creed or rank.
Immediately afterward the peers came straggling in, singly
and in groups, all charmingly dressed and wearing their hats, which, with but
one exception, they at once removed. The exception was tall, dark and
commonplace in bearing and appearance, and he retained his hat for a few
minutes, as if to satisfy the demands of official prerogative - a very strange
one to democratic eyes; but presently he yielded to the force of example,
removed it and [-15-] held it on his knee. Many of
the faces were interesting, and a few were strikingly handsome, high-bred and
refined.
Promptly at two o'clock the Lords Commissioners entered
wearing their robes of office-voluminous garments trimmed in ermine-the Lord
High Chancellor, Lord Halsbury, Viscount Cross, the Earl of Coventry, the Earl
of Limerick, and Lord Balfour. The sword and mace were borne before them and
deposited upon a velvet cushion, after which the Commissioners seated themselves
and put on their three-cornered hats. This ceremony concluded, the Gentleman
Usher of the Black Rod was directed to repair to the House of Commons and summon
the members to hear the reading of the Royal Commission. As the House of Commons
was near at hand, there was no very lengthy interval of waiting; the gate
separating the corridor and the floor of the House of Peers was closed and
almost immediately the commons arrived, the newly elected Conservatives in
force, all crowded into a very narrow space, standing huddled together in
uncomfortably close quarters, overflowing into the upper galleries. They were
led by the Clerk of the House and took the matter anything but seriously; those
who wore monocles adjusted them and much joking and inaudible laughing went on
among them. After the confusion had somewhat subsided the Chancellor who
remained seated said:
"My Lords and Gentlemen of the House of Commons: Her
Majesty not thinking fit to be present here to-day in her royal person, hath
been pleased in order to the opening and holding of this Parliament, to cause
letters patent to be issued under the great seal, constituting us and several
other lords therein named her commissioners to do all things in her Majesty's
name, on her part necessary to be performed in this Parliament, and this will
more fully ap-[16-]pear in the letters patent
themselves, which will now be read."
These were read accordingly, by one of the clerks, but so
rapidly and indistinctly that, although I sat quite near the reader, I caught
but half a dozen words - the name of the Prince of Wales and a statement to the
effect that the double sheet of parchment which the reader held in both hands
had been signed by her Majesty, Queen Victoria.
After this brief formality the Lord Chancellor, still
sitting, spoke again and said:
"My Lords and Gentlemen: We have it in command from her
Majesty to let you know that her Majesty will, as soon as the members of your
houses shall be sworn, declare the causes of calling this Parliament: and it
being necessary that a Speaker of the House of Commons shall be first chosen, it
is her Majesty's pleasure that you, Gentlemen of the House of Commons, repair to
the place where you are to sit and there proceed to the choice of some proper
person to be your speaker, and that you shall, present such person when you
shall so choose here to-morrow at twelve o'clock for her Majesty's royal
approbation."
The members of the House of Commons then departed to their
chamber and the Lords Commissioners also withdrew. As the Lords Commissioners
filed by, some plebeian person got in the way, whereupon the Usher cried
sonorously: "Make way for the Lord Chancellor;" and I felt like
rubbing my eyes, and would not have been surprised at all to have seen about me
heralds with their bannered trumpets, and Knights in armor with their retinues;
it gave me a very mixed feeling; reverence for custom of historic origin that
had survived the wreck of empires; and, on the other hand, a confused impression
that I had spent half an hour with Alice in Wonderland.
The ceremony in the House of Peers being concluded,
[-17-] those present adjourned to the House of Commons, where the
transaction of official business was much less picturesque and a good deal more
animated. Many of the Tory members had been returned three years before,
subsequently defeated and returned again, in the election that had just been
held, and they could be identified to a man by their subdued elation and their
circumspect manifestations of triumph.
The Times that morning had remarked that it was a
memorable meeting, the House of Commons for the first time in two generations
having given the government, which was in a minority of twenty-eight when the
dissolution took place, a majority against all corners of 152.
Among the early arrivals were Sir R. Reid, late
Attorney-General; Sir J. C. Colomb, Sir John Lubbock, the Marquis of Lorne, Sir
W Kay Shuttleworth, and Mr. William Woodall who, under the recent government had
held the important position of Financial Secretary of the War Office. The Anti-Parnellites
were represented by T. P. O'Connor, Mr. Dillon, Dr. Tanner, Mr. McNeill, and Mr.
T. M. Healy. The galleries were filled; the narrow loft, with its tantalizing
grille apportioned to the women, being uncomfortably crowded.
It had been agreed, in recognition of certain concessions,
that Mr. Gully, the Speaker of the House recently dissolved, should be retained
in his important office, so that the business of election was merely nominal. Of
his re-election two very interesting views were taken; one by the Conservatives
who held that this signal example of political generosity on the part of the
adherents of the government, in the face of extreme provocation to an opposite
course, was satisfactory proof that "pernicious partisanism" had not
yet taken root in Great Britain. The Liberals, on the other hand, more than
hinted that it was a recognition of the power of one radical member who [-18-]
had snatched this much of victory from the jaws of defeat. Furthermore, they
stated boldly that, while the Conservatives had come into power with an
unprecedented majority, the vote which really turned the tide in the elections
was so small that they perceived the wisdom of reasonable conciliation.
Long lines of people, men and women of all classes and
conditions, filled the corridors leading to the House of Commons. These were
kept in order by the omnipresent policemen whose demeanor might be described as
polite but firm. There was almost as much scrambling and elbowing as might be
witnessed on similar occasions at home, but it was immensely good-natured. With
all our protestations of equality and with the familiarity that seems bred of
democracy, the personality, blunt, downright and of the sledge-hammer order,
which is permitted upon the floor of the House of Commons, is something to which
the visiting American can never become quite accustomed. It is so at variance
with the ordinary reserve and self- control of the Englishman, and especially of
the Englishman in office, that the remarks and comments which occasionally
interrupt a member in the midst of a speech have something the effect of audible
and flippant irreverence during a church service. I had observed this in an
Australian parliament, where it had been introduced, no doubt, as a mark of
reverence for "home" and its institutions, although, with the
socialistic tendencies that are fast growing in that remote region, reverence
for anything that savors of conservatism cannot long survive. This spirit was
very apparent when Mr. Chamberlain, who, having renounced the principles and
professions of many years, entered and seated himself by Mr. Balfour in a way
that but a few short months before would have recalled the lion and the lamb of
prophesied millennium. This prompted one of the most unruly of the Irish
contingent to shout [-19-] "Judas.! The
epithet, fortunately, was drowned by the applause of Mr. Chamberlain's new
friends, who, happily for him, greatly outnumbered his former fellow-partisans.
The taunt was accompanied by a few harmless, hostile demonstrations from other
Irish and Radical members, and so passed without attracting much attention.
The business was soon dispatched; Mr. Gully, by the
forbearance of his enemies, was re-elected, and the House adjourned.
My host had invited another guest, Emily
Crawford, one of the most distinguished women journalists in England, for many
years the staff correspondent of the London Daily News in Paris, whose
letters after the death of President Carnot and the political crisis that
followed made her widely known throughout the United States. After the session
we were invited to tea on the Terrace, where other of the newly-elected members
were entertaining their friends-a series of brilliant parties.
The Thames rushed by, steamers and many small craft plying to
and fro, the noble building, a mass of glorious architecture, casting its shadow
across the tessellated pavement. The clock, historic Big Ben, struck three, the
chimes of Westminster responded - the work of the session was done and over in
one brief hour.
With all deference to lords and commons, to bishops and
peeresses, Emily Crawford, to me, was the most interesting personage there. She
was of middle age, stout and rather short of stature, with blue eyes and a
decidedly pleasing countenance full of varying expression and of great
intelligence. She was plainly dressed in a black gown, and the one hand from
which she removed the glove was small and white, with delicately tapered
fingers. We sat upon an elevated seat, our host pouring the tea and attentively
serving us with toasted currant buns and thin bread and butter. Many of the
[-20-] members were brought up and introduced to the distinguished
journalist, and she met them upon their own ground, but with no self assertion
or controversy. Her talk was most delightful. Every incident, every important
change of policy through successive administrations for more than twenty years,
were readily recalled, and she substantiated her statements with names, dates,
figures, that were a little bewildering to those not so well informed as
herself. She had a deep musical voice, finely modulated, and a manner somewhat
indifferent and taciturn. She attributed the defeat of the Liberals to the too
numerous and too diverse measures which they had proposed, and which had failed
only because of opposition in the House of Lords. She said that the British mind
operated slowly, and that it demanded time for reflection and the assimilation
of new ideas. The government, society itself, was a succession of growths, and
one could not be violently displaced without permanently uprooting others. She
thought, too, that the introduction of a temperance question in the guise of a
local option measure had had its weight, especially among manufacturers or
dealers in spirits and others whose selfish interests were involved. In the
House of Peers she frankly preferred the hereditary nobleman to the new creation
who "smelled of paint;" and she made some caustic comments on the
aspiring descendants of "self-made" capitalists who were frequently
the degenerate successors of men who had possessed excellent qualities. She was
very much interested in the progress of civil service rule in the United States
and, very oddly, perceived in the importation of Italian laborers the solution
of the drink question. Laborers of other nationality, she thought, might require
alcoholic stimulants as a specific against the malaria of newly-settled regions;
the Italians were a temperate race, they had been acclimated against ague and
fever, and, having literally stored up a [-21-]
supply of caloric, were not in need of artificial stimulants. If not tenable,
her views were at any rate original, and, as she stated them, extremely
interesting. She spoke of journalism as a profession-the demand that it made
upon the brains and energy, requiring skill, intelligence, knowledge and
literary ability, only to record the events of the passing hour, a record
speedily forgotten. Its tendency, she thought, was to develop a certain
automatic facility for writing, but it secured for those who followed the
profession none of the substantial rewards of literature. Mrs. Crawford was
recognized by the Conservative members, who watched her curiously. One group,
- a tall young man with a curling blonde mustache, who had been defeated
three years before and now returned, and a party of pretty women in French
gowns,-were especially attentive while she talked, serenely unconscious of their
observation.
Bits of amusing conversation that one could not help
overhearing went on all about us. One man remarked:
"I shall have to put up my carriage and pair at auction
to defray the expense of my canvass."
"What did it cost you?" asked his sympathizing
friend.
"Fifty pounds a day, and not a penny less," he
replied in a discouraged tone.
I thought of our campaign funds, which so offended the moral
sense of the good people of England, and perceived that here, indeed, was a
distinction with a difference.
The Liberals were good-naturedly and somewhat ruefully
condoling with each other; one characterized the opening of the session as
"tame - very tame ;" another humorously termed it "the slaughter
of the innocents ;" while still another remarked that "it made him sad
to miss so many of the old familiar faces." On returning home [-22-]
we passed a great funeral, a member of the volunteers followed by a long
procession of grey uniformed militia, - the coffin carried upon a caisson and
quite buried under flowers.