The Strand Magazine/Volume 6/Issue 35/From Behind the Speaker's Chair
From Behind the Speaker's Chair.
X.
(VIEWED BY HENRY W. LUCY.)
NEW LIGHTS IN THE NEW HOUSE. MR. GLADSTONE, meditating in the brief recess on the Parliament which meets again in this month of November; after one of the most arduous Sessions of modern times, has come to the conclusion that, taking it as a whole, whilst it has developed no marked phases of individual brilliancy or Parliamentary capacity, the present House of Commons is rather above the average than below it. That is an opinion possibly unconsciously influenced by the fact that it has, in face of unprecedented opposition, passed the Home Rule Bill.
However it be as to the general composition of the new House, there can be no question of the accuracy of the admission that at the end of twelve months no new member has stood forth with promise of making a high or even a first-class position. It is possible that the peculiar circumstances of the Session have in some degree been responsible for this. For months, when dealing with the principal measures of the year, the gag was morally enforced upon the rank-and-file of the Ministerial party. No one concerned for the advance of the Bill wanted to know what a young member thought of it, or how, opportunity given him, he would express himself. What was wanted was his vote.
"Tommy" Bowles.
"TOMMY" BOWLES, et cie. This state of things did not extend to the Opposition side. There there was the incentive of performing a double service to the party. By talking for half an hour a young Conservative of debating capacity might pick a hole in the Home Rule. Bill. By talking for sixty minutes, even if he said nothing to the point, he would postpone by an hour the passage of the obnoxious measure. It was a fine opportunity for young Chathams on the Conservative side. But the most striking if not the sole result has been Mr. "Tommy Bowles. The member for King's Lynn early perceived his chance, and, late and early, has made use of it. Omniscient, impervious, he has filled so large a space on the Parliamentary canvas that there is hardly room for other figures; which, in view of the thirst for variety that marks average mankind, seems a pity. Other new members on the Conservative side whose figures are partly visible behind the gigantic personality of the member for King's Lynn are Mr. Dunbar Barton, who has delivered some weighty speeches; Mr. Byrne, who has early caught the indescribable House of Commons' manner; and Mr. Vicary Gibbs, who has usefully instructed Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Goschen, and other tyros on financial matters, not to speak of his interposition on the final step of the Home Rule Bill in Committee, which, undesignedly, led to the most memorable riot seen in the House of Commons since Cromwell's day.
MR. CARSON.
Mr. Carson is a gentleman who enjoys the confidence of his colleagues on the Front Opposition Bench, notably that of Mr. Arthur Balfour, no mean judge of Parliamentary capacity. It must be said from the point 
"Coercion Carson."
of view of the dispassionate observer, that the junior member for Dublin University has not, in several speeches made since Parliament met, justified expectation. He is not as yet able to shake off the manner learned through a long course of Crown prosecutions in Ireland. When he is discussing the speech or action of an hon. or right hon. gentleman opposite, he always treats him as if he had found him in the dock, and as if the brief before him hinted at unutterable crimes brought home to him by the inquiry and testimony of members of the Irish Constabulary. The manner is so natural and ingrained that there is doubt whether it will ever be overcome or even modified. This is a pity, for it is simply professional. Nevertheless—indeed, therefore—it will never do in the House of Commons.
MR. MORTON—NOT ALPHEUS CLEOPHAS. On the Liberal side the name of Mr. E. C. J. Morton is the only one that occurs to the mind in search of promise among new members. The matter of his speech is admirable, its arrangement lucid, its argument persuasive. Success is marred by lack of grace in delivery, accentuated by Mr. Morton's insistence on addressing the House from the corner seat of the front bench below the gangway. It is apparently a small matter, but he would, for immediate effect, do twice as well if he spoke from a back bench. The position would have the double effect of making less obtrusive the appalling collection of papers which seem indispensable to his addresses, and would relieve a sensitive audience from the distraction of ungainly movements as, inflamed by his own eloquence, he, with shuffling feet, restlessly moves up and down and half way round.
Mr. Galloway Weir.
MR. WEIR. Wales has brought no new member of note into the Parliamentary field, nor is there anything new from Ireland. Scotland, with the dry humour for which it was ever famous, has contributed Mr. Weir and Dr. Macgregor. It would be impossible for the ordinary student of Parliamentary reports to understand why these two gentlemen should make the House roar with laughter. It is not easy by any pen description to convey the secret. It lies in subtle eccentricities of manner, voice, attitude, and gesture. Mr. Weir, his useful legislative career unhappily handicapped by indisposition, has never taken part in ordered debate. He has found a wide and fruitful field of labour in addressing questions to Ministers. They do not often rise nearer to heights of Imperial interest than is found in the state of the drains at Pitlochrie, the tardy arrival of a train on the Highland Railway, or the postponement by forty minutes of a telegram addressed to a fishmonger who thought it would reach Lochaber no more.
If Mr. Weir's mission, when he rises with two questions in hand, were to announce that the Russians are bivouacked on the Pamirs, or that the Tricolour flag flaunts over Bangkok, his manner could not be more impressive.
It is testimony to the richness of the soil that he has grafted upon it two distinct manners. When he first delighted the House by appearing at question time, he was wont slowly to rise in response to the Speaker's call. For a moment no sound issued from his lips. He gazed round the waiting House and then, drawing forth his pince-nez, placed it on his nose with majestic sweep of the right arm. Another pause, and there was heard, rolling through the hushed Chamber, a deep chest note saying, "Mr. Speaker, Sir, I beg to ask the right hon. gentleman the Secretary for Scotland Ques-ti-on Number Eighty-three." Mr. Weir did not forthwith drop into his seat as others do when they have put a question. With another majestic sweep of the arm he removed the pince-nez, glanced round to watch the effect of his interposition, and slowly subsided, staring haughtily round at members rolling about in their seats in ecstasy of laughter at the little comedy. Mr. Weir rarely had less than a cluster of four questions on the paper, and, in time, it came to pass that his successive rising to put them was hailed with an enthusiastic burst of cheering that plainly puzzled the strangers in the gallery.
Towards the middle of the Session he achieved a new success. At an epoch when the Government were sorely pressed for time, he rose and, addressing Mr. Gladstone in his slow, solemn manner, invited him to state whether it would not be more convenient for members who had questions on the paper simply to recite the number, at which cue the Minister should rise and reply. This, from a gentleman whose preliminaries to a question often occupied as much time as the setting forth of the answer, hugely delighted the House. Mr. Weir was not to be disconcerted, and the next day, having on the paper his customary cluster of interrogations, he, being called on by the Speaker, responded with the remark, "Forty-four," going on as his turn came round with the subsequent remarks, "Forty-five," "Forty-six," "Forty-seven." No mere print could indicate the force and meaning he threw into the the intonation of these numerals.
As for the purport of these momentous interrogatories, I take at random two, following in a group of six which appear on one day's paper on an evening just before the adjournment for the holidays:—
"To ask the Secretary for Scotland, whether he is aware that Mr. Gordon, land valuator, one of the Deer Forest Commissioners now engaged in Caithness, has for a number of years acted as valuator for many of the landlords in that county: and, if he will inquire into the circumstances of the case."
"To ask the Secretary of State for War, how many black powder .303 cartridges can be fired from the Maxim machine gun before the barrel becomes unfit for accurate shooting."
Dr. Macgregor
DR. MAC-GREGOR. Dr. Macgregor's manner, not less attractive to the House, which, above all things, likes to laugh, is wholly different. Whilst Mr. Weir sits below the gangway, a position indicative of an independent mind, prepared upon occasion to vote against esteemed leaders, Dr. Macgregor is posted in the rear of the Treasury Bench, ready to protect its occupants against any strategic movement of the enemy. Like his countryman, he is interrogative in his manner, but unlike Mr. Weir, he has been known to take part in ordered debate. Whether rising to put a question or make a speech, nothing can exceed the impressiveness of his manner. He was, from the first, convinced that Mr. Gladstone was too slow to anger against obstructive policy in the House of Commons. He felt unwilling to embarrass his right hon. friend, who, after all, might, to a certain extent, be supposed to know something of his own business. But the manner in which, with elbow resting on the back of the bench, and with legs crossed, the Doctor shook his head at fresh instances of unchecked inroads of obstruction, was more eloquent than words.
At one crisis he was moved to take upon himself the responsibility of immediate action. One night whilst the House was in Committee on the Home Rule Bill, he rose and gravely gave the gentlemen opposite a week's notice. If, he said, at six o'clock on the following Friday the particular clause under discussion were not passed, he would move that forthwith the question be put, "that the clause be added to the Bill."
The Opposition affected to make light of this, but it was not without a thrill of apprehension they found the Doctor at his place when the fatal hour struck. It was a morning sitting, on which occasion the debate automatically closes at ten minutes to seven. Somehow the Doctor missed his chance, and before he could retrieve the opportunity the hands of the clock touched ten minutes to seven, and all was over for the day. But a very short time after a Cabinet Council was held, at which it was decided that obstruction must be scotched, and notice was given of the introduction of the guillotine process.
It was at a later stage of the interminable debate that Dr. Macgregor, whom members had forgotten, again appeared on the scene. The House had long been debating an amendment on the Report stage. The division was imminent. The Speaker had, indeed, risen to put the question, when Dr. Macgregor interposed, and, waving the Speaker down, said in solemn tones, "Mr. Speaker, Sir, one or two ideas have occurred to me."
What they might have been was never disclosed beyond the inquiry, not original—Dr. Macgregor attributed it to the late Sydney Smith—"When doctors differ, who shall decide?" The House laughed so uproariously, that Dr. Macgregor got no further, and was fain to resume his seat. Not to this day has he understood why the House should have gone into paroxysms of laughter at his opening sentence, though he probably has since ascertained that the epigrammatic remark he quoted was wrongly attributed to Sydney Smith.
Mr. Gladstone and his Lieutenants.
Mr. GLADSTONE. Whilst no young members have earned laurels in the new Parliament, some old ones have added many leaves to theirs. First, appropriately, though not in accordance with invariable custom, comes the Premier. For twenty years I have had constant opportunity of observing Mr. Gladstone in the House of Commons, and declare that never within that time has he excelled himself as compared with the past Session. He may have made speeches more striking in respect of eloquence and force, though of that I am doubtful. Taking the whole conduct of the Session, which has weighed almost exclusively upon his shoulders, there is nothing in his prime to compare with this prolonged triumph. At the beginning of the Session it was taken as a matter of course that he would divide the labour of the year with Sir William Harcourt and Mr. John Morley. The plan was so excellent and precise that it was impossible to doubt its actuality. Mr. Gladstone was to introduce the Home Rule Bill, even to move the second reading. Charge of the long debate expected on this stage, and more especially the wearying work night after night in Committee, were to be confided to the Chief Secretary, whilst Sir William Harcourt would remain on guard reserved for emergencies.
Mr. Gladstone goes home.
As for Mr. Gladstone, he would probably be in his place every day up to the dinner hour, at approach of which he would disappear with the certainty of being put to bed before midnight. Conservative newspapers, anxious above all things that the precious life precious life of the Premier should not be endangered, were not to be comforted even by this prospect. It would, they perpended, be too much for a statesman, his energies sapped by sixty years' hard labour in the public service.
Of what really happened the student of Parliamentary reports has a general idea, though the situation can be fully realized only by those present in the House day by day and through all the sitting. Whilst the Home Rule Bill was to the fore, Mr. Gladstone was, with an interval for dinner, in his place from first to last. Even the dinner hour he cut shorter than was others' wont. Often when the hands of the clock drew close to eight and the Chamber grew empty, Mr. Gladstone was found at the end of the Treasury Bench, with hand to ear listening intently to some inconsiderable member at whose uprising the audience had hastily dispersed. Mr. Morley had no chance with him, nor Sir William Harcourt either. It might have been thought that he would be content with answering Mr. Balfour or his "right hon. friend" Mr. Chamberlain, leaving to the Chief Secretary or the Solicitor-General the task of replying to members of smaller calibre. That was a reasonable expectation, disappointed, if necessary, half-a-dozen times in a sitting. No one was too inconsiderable for him to one reply to.
The only place at which he drew a line was the occasional interposition of Sir Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett, though with what pang self-restraint was here observed no man knoweth. In the opinion of some of his hearers he marred the otherwise perfect symmetry of his speech on the third reading, by devoting the opening passages to the confusion of Mr. Chaplin, who had challenged his presentation of Cavour's views on Irish Home Rule.
"Tireless activity."
It seemed to impatient onlookers that this constant appearance of the Premier on the scene was conducive to prolongation of the debate. If in Committee he had taken a course that would certainly have been adopted by Mr. Disraeli—either ignored the speech of a second or third rate man, or let it be answered by the Minister conjoined with himself in charge of the Bill—the conversation would have flickered out. The interposition of the Premier, upon whatever inducement, instantly raised the the debate to the highest the highest level, and drew into the controversy leaders in other parts of the House who otherwise would have abstained from speech. On many occasions that was indubitably true. The habit is mentioned here merely in illustration of the tireless activity of the youthful octogenarian.
The success which attended a much disputed strategy of the Premier's on analogous lines, makes one chary of assuming that he was, on the whole, wrong in this particular matter. On successive stages of the Bill the obstruction with which it was met wore away such patience as is possessed by the Radical section of his supporters. Had they won their way, the duration of the struggle would have been nearer forty days than eighty-two. Since the Reform Bill of 1831 was disposed of in forty-seven days, the Corn Laws repealed in ten days, the Reform Bill of 1867 passed in thirty-four days, the Irish Church Disestablished in nineteen days, and the Irish Land Act of 1881 run through the Commons in forty-six days, that might have been held to suffice. Mr. Gladstone, patient, long suffering beyond average capacity, resisted importunity, and without once even showing signs of losing his temper, politely pegged away.
He had his reward in a triumph which, as far as I have observed, did not in the comments on the final stage of the controversy receive the notice it merited. A main plank in Mr. Chamberlain's policy, eagerly adopted by the united Opposition, was to force the hand of the Government in the matter of the Closure, and thus provide excuse for the House of Lords to throw out the Bill on the ground that it had not been fully debated in the Commons. The Old Parliamentary Hand perceived this game, and though Mr. Chamberlain won to the extent that the Closure was in the end systematically applied, Mr. Gladstone trumped his card by allotting to the measure a period of discussion equal in the aggregate to what had sufficed for the establishment of the Union, the passing of the Reform Act, and the Repeal of the Corn Laws. The result of this was seen when the Bill reached the Lords. Neither Lord Salisbury, as Leader of the Conservative Opposition, nor Lord Selborne, representing the Dissentient Liberals, once alluded to "the gag."
"I see you, Mr. Fox."
MR. ARTHUR BALFOUR. Next to Mr. Gladstone, the honours of the Session undoubtedly rest with Mr. Balfour. The fact that he has not pushed his way to the front makes fuller the satisfaction with which his arrival is hailed. His position has been one of peculiar difficulty. Early in the Session his supremacy was threatened by the reappearance of Lord Randolph Churchill on the scene. In the Conservative ranks there was a sneaking affection for Lord Randolph, in which lurked grave potentialities. He had shown them sport in earlier days. To him more than to any other was due the overthrow of Mr. Gladstone's Ministry in 1885. At the beginning of the Session he was the dark horse of the political race. No one could say at what point of it his colours might not suddenly flash.
"A friendly smile."
Mr. Balfour at that time had shown no particular aptitude for the post of Leader, to which, consequent upon Lord Randolph's withdrawal from the boards, he had been called. He was plainly indifferent to the pride of place, and evidently bored with the duties it imposed upon him. Even in the matter of attendance he flouted the traditions of the commander of an army in time of war. He came late to his post on the Front Opposition Bench, and, like Charles Lamb at the India Office, made up for it by going away early. Of all men in the House he seemed most indifferent to the prospect of Lord Randolph Churchill's re-appearance. It was, I believe, at his instance that the Prodigal was invited to return to his old home on the Front Opposition Bench. It was from his side that Lord Randolph rose to make the speech on the introduction of the Irish Home Rule Bill that marked his re-entry in Parliamentary life. No voice cheered him so loudly as did Mr. Balfour's. As he spoke, no face beamed upon him with such kindly interest and friendly encouragement. The keen-eyed House, watching the scene with the interest all personal questions have for it, recognised in the young Leader's bearing at this critical epoch the simple influence of a fine nature incapable of petty jealousy, indifferent to personal aggrandisement.
MR. CHAMBERLAIN. Another and more truculent horn of Mr. Balfour's dilemma projected from the corner seat below the gangway on the benches opposite. It is no easy matter to run in double harness with Mr. Chamberlain. At the end of a memorable and exciting course, it must be admitted that Mr. Balfour has achieved the undertaking with supreme credit. There have been times when party animosity has discovered Mr. Chamberlain leading and Mr. Balfour following. That would, in the circumstances, be personally and politically a position in which a high-spirited man would find life unbearable, in which open revolt would be irresistible. Whatever may have been Mr. Balfour's secret thoughts at particular turns of the long game, he has never publicly betrayed consciousness of the alleged situation. Only once has the House fancied he showed any disposition to lay a warning hand on Mr. Chamberlain's shoulder.
"Double harness."
This happened on the seventy-fourth night "the gagged House" had been talking at large round the Home Rule Bill. Mr. Gladstone moved a resolution designed on the following Friday to bring the Report stage to a conclusion. Mr. Chamberlain resisted this in a speech more than usually acrimonious in its tone, in the course of which his "right hon. friend" on the Treasury Bench came in for something over the customary measure of attention. The attack, considering its elaborate preparation and the force with which it was delivered, had fallen a little flat—probably not because it was less brilliant or forceful than Mr. Chamberlain's speeches through the Session had been; but because even the Opposition were under the spell of the monotony of vituperation. Mr. Chamberlain began the debate, and Mr. Balfour closed it in a speech not less effective from a debating point of view, but infused by an entirely different spirit. He did not spare the adversary, but his attempts to dispatch him were conducted with a grace, a courtesy, and something of personal deference which recalled the highest Parliamentary standard. Unfriendly critics insisted that this tone and manner were specially designed to contrast with Mr. Chamberlain's. More probably it was due to a mere accident of exceptional good health and temper. However it be, it marked an advance in Mr. Balfour's supremacy over the House of Commons from which he has not since fallen away. The marked approval of the most critical assembly in the world has reacted upon him, and success has engendered the resolve to succeed.
"Lords."
THE HOUSE OF LORDS. There is no temptation for noble Lords to flock to London to take their part in the autumn Session. As a rule, the vast majority of peers are successful in dissembling their interest in Parliamentary life. When the roll was scanned in anticipation of the division on the Home Rule Bill last September, it was found, though the Parliament of Victoria was already twelve months old, upwards of 100 peers had not made response to the writ received by them when it was summoned. They came up breathless in batches of a dozen or a score in time to vote against the Bill. That duty accomplished they have gone their ways, and will certainly not come to town for an autumn Session, in which no sacred ark of Land, or Church, or Union is touched.
It must be admitted that, on the whole, the House of Lords is not an attractive place, either for members or for lookers on. During the Session it meets four days a week, but oftener than not finds itself in the position of having no work to do. The Lord Chancellor, with something of the pomp, circumstance, and inutility of the valiant Duke of York, marches up to the Woolsack and marches back again; when, as the Parliamentary report puts it, "the House then adjourned."
For all practical purposes the House of Lords might for at least three months of an ordinary Session be content with meeting once a week, and need not on that particular night sit beyond the dinner hour. As such an arrangement would imply that for six days out of the seven the world would go round pretty much the same as if their lordships were in Session, they are not likely to fall in with this suggestion.
The Lord Chancellor.
THE LORD CHANCELLOR. In various matters of procedure the House of Lords differs from the Commons. Like the Commons, it is presided over by a member of its own body, holding his seat by equal tenure. But a gulf, wider than the passage between the two Houses, divides the Lord Chancellor from the Speaker. In the first place the Speaker is elected by the House of Commons. The Lord Chancellor is nominated by and is actually a member of the Government of the day. The consequence follows that whilst the Speaker is above all political consideration, the Lord Chancellor is a leading active member of his party. The Speaker never takes part in debate. In the House of Lords no big debate is complete without a deliverance from the Lord Chancellor.
It is a quaint custom, significant of some uneasiness in the situation, that when the Lord Chancellor takes part in debate, he steps a pace to the left of the Woolsack; thus, as it were, temporarily divesting himself of presidential function and speaking as a private member.
One natural consequence of the diverse circumstances under which the Lord Chancellor and the Speaker come to the chair is seen in their varied measure of authority. The Lord Chancellor presides, but does not govern. The Speaker in the chair of the House of Commons is autocratic. Whilst the Speaker orders the course of a debate, selecting successive contributors out of the competing throng, no one in the Lords is so poor as to do the Chancellor the reverence of trying to "catch his eye." In a set debate like that of September, the succession of speakers is settled by the Whips in conference on either side.
PERSONAL REFERENCES. Another custom in which Lords and Commons pointedly differ is in the matter of reference to individual members made in the course of debate. In the Commons it is a grave breach of order that would be promptly and angrily resented for any member to allude to another by name. He is always "the hon. member" for the borough or county he county he represents, "the right hon. gentleman," "the noble lord," or "my hon. friend." The only variation to this custom is on the part of the Speaker, who when he calls upon a member to take his turn in debate, does so by name, Even the Speaker when addressing the House from the chair, and having occasion to allude to a member personally, must needs adopt the roundabout style enjoined by the House of Commons' usage. Since the peers represent no one but themselves, this practice would in their House be impossible. Members are accordingly directly alluded to in debate by their ordinary name and style.
HATS. In the House of Commons it is the custom for members to wear hats while seated in debate, a fashion which strikes the stranger in the gallery as very odd. In the Lords, the hat is permissible, but its use is exceptional. There is a good and sufficient reason for this variation of custom. Whilst the House of Commons have for centuries been engaged in making history, they have never had a hat-rail made for themselves. It it true there is a cloak-room, half way down the broad staircase that gives entrance to the Lobby. But a hat might almost as well be left at home as planted out there. The Lords have hat and coat rail conveniently set in the hall outside the glorious brass gateway that opens on to their House. Peers in regular attendance have their own hook bearing their honoured name. It is as natural to place their hats there as it is to leave them in the hall of their residence, and they do it accordingly.
Last Session the First Commissioner of Works had his attention called by a despairing member of the House of Commons to this curious omission. Possibly when the new Session opens members may find a House of Commons, for the first time in its history, endowed with a convenient hat-rail.
"MY KINGDOM FOR A HAT." Whilst members generally wear their hats in the House of Commons, Ministers are distinguished among other things by usually sitting bare headed. This is doubtless owing to the fact that most Ministers have private rooms behind the Speaker's chair, where they can conveniently leave their out-of-door apparel. There are not many members of the present Parliament who ever saw Mr. Gladstone seated on either front bench with his own hat on. Last time he wore his hat in the House was eighteen years ago. In the Session of 1875, he, having in a famous letter confided to Lord Granville his intention to retire from political life, occasionally looked in to see how things were getting on under Lord Hartington's leadership. Always he brought his hat with him and put it on as he sat at the end of the Front Opposition Bench, a quarter usually affected by ex-Under-Secretaries. Also, he wore his gloves and carried his stick, all, perhaps unconsciously, designed to complete the casual character of his visit and the "hope I don't intrude"-ness of his bearing. When news came of the Bulgarian atrocities, hat and gloves and stick were left outside the House, and have never since been seen in the House with the Speaker in the chair.
"Too small?"
I said just now that not many members of the present Parliament have seen Mr. Gladstone with his own hat on. The distinction was drawn advisedly, for there is a time of later date when he was seen in the House under someone else's. It happened in the troublous days of the Parliament, 1885. One night business had boiled over in a storm of disorder. The House had been cleared for a division, in which circumstance a member desiring to address the Chair must do so seated, with his hat on. The Premier wished to raise a point of order, but his hat was in his room. Half-a-dozen were proffered for his use. He accepted the loan of that of the colleague who was then Sir Farrer Herschell, Solicitor-General. Mr. Gladstone put it on, to find it was several sizes too small.
Many years have passed since that day, but none who were present can forget the curious effect as, with the inadequate hat comically cocked over his gleaming eye, the Premier addressed the appalled Chairman of Committees.