Graham Harry
The Mother of Parliaments
It is not the Speaker's (or Chairman's) duty to notice the absence of a quorum, but if his attention is drawn to it by a member he must at once rise in his place and proceed to count the House. There is a well-known story of a prolix member speaking to empty benches in the Commons who referred sarcastically to the packed audience hanging upon his words, and was interrupted by the Speaker, who at once proceeded to "count out" the House, and put an end to the sitting as well as to the member's oration. The Speaker's inability to count the House out of his own accord has occasionally given rise to inconvenient situations. Lord George Gordon once rose and requested permission to read from a book, which was granted. He then proceeded to read the Bible until the House dwindled from upwards of four hundred members to two, namely, the Speaker and Lord George himself, who had the indecency to keep the former in the Chair till the candles were "fairly in the socket."383
In the House of Lords three peers form a quorum. If, however, thirty lords are not present on a division upon any stage of a Bill, the question is declared to be not decided, and the debate is adjourned until the next sitting. Lord Rosebery, in 1884, recalled an occasion when a noble lord, Lord Leitrim, addressed a quorum of the House, consisting, besides himself, of the Lord Chancellor and the Minister whose duty it was to answer him, for four mortal hours. Another instance of the same kind is supposed to have occurred when Lord Lyndhurst was on the Woolsack and a noble lord spoke at considerable length to an audience of even smaller proportions. After a time the Chancellor became very weary and could scarcely conceal his impatience. "This is too bad," he said at length, "can't you stop?" Still, the peer prosed on, showing no sign of reaching his peroration. Finally, Lyndhurst could stand it no longer. "By Jove," he cried, suddenly inspired with a brilliant idea, "I will count you out!" As he and the speaker only were present in the House at the time, the Chancellor was able to do this, and the long-winded nobleman was effectually silenced.
In early times the daily sittings of Parliament were preceded by Mass held in St. Stephen's Chapel. Later on it became the custom for the lords to repair to the Abbey, and the Commons to St. Margaret's Church, for a brief morning service. In the Parliaments of Queen Elizabeth the Litany was read daily, and a short prayer offered up by the Speaker at the meeting of the House. Prior to 1563, no regular daily prayers were held, but on the first five days of any Parliament "an archbishop, bishop or famous clerk, discrete and eloquent," preached to the House.384 This practice long continued, and we read of "Dr. Burgesse and Master Marshal," preaching to Parliament on a fast day in the year 1640 for "at least seven hours betwixt them"385– an occasion when their eloquence seems to have outrun their discretion.
Nineteen years later Richard Cromwell appointed the first regular chaplain to relieve the Speaker and the discreet and eloquent prelates and clerks of their duties. This official enjoyed no fixed emoluments, but was upheld and nourished by the consciousness of duty nobly done and the hope of subsequent preferment. His counterpart to-day is appointed by the Speaker and paid by the House, and his duties consist in reading the three brief prayers with which each daily session of the House commences.386 In the Lords this task is undertaken by the bishops in rotation.
When prayers are over in the Lower House any "private business" that has to be taken is called on, and Private Bills pass through the initiatory stages of their career. The procedure in this case is, as a rule, purely formal, and lasts but a short time.
The dispatch of private business is immediately followed by the oral presentation of petitions by those members who have informed the Speaker of their intention to do so.
In these days of open courts of justice, a free Press, and wholesale publicity the need for petitions is not so great as it was in times when the voice of the people could not always obtain a hearing. To-day the papers are only too ready to lend their columns to the airing of any grievance, real or imaginary, and politicians are not unwilling to make party capital out of any individual instances of apparent injustice or oppression that may be brought to their notice.
A hundred years ago all petitions were read to the House by the members presenting them, and lengthy discussions often ensued. Much waste of time resulted from this practice, and the frequent arrival at Westminster of large bodies of petitioners caused great inconvenience, and sometimes led to rioting. In 1641, a huge crowd of women completely blocked the entrance of the House. They were led by a certain Mrs. Anne Stagg, "a gentlewoman and brewer's wife," and their object was to present a petition directed against the Popish bishops.387 The Sergeant of the Parliamentary Guard appealed to the House for advice as to how he should treat these women, and was told to speak them fair and send them away. This he accordingly proceeded to do, but not without much difficulty.
Two years later three thousand other "mean women," wearing white ribbons in their hats, arrived at Westminster with another petition. "Peace! Peace!" they cried, in a manner which was little calculated to gain that which they were seeking. "Give us those traitors that are against peace, that we may tear them to pieces! Give us that dog Pym!" The conduct of these viragoes at length became so unruly that the trained bands were sent for, and the order was eventually given to fire upon the mob. "When the gentle sex can so flagrantly renounce their character, and make such formidable attacks on the men," says a contemporary historian, "they certainly forfeit the polite treatment due to them as women" – and in this case their forgetfulness cost them the loss of several lives.388
To-day, under the provisions of the One Mile Act of George III. – the result of an attack made upon the Regent on his way from the opening of Parliament in 1817 – no assembly of petitioners or public meeting is allowed within a mile of the Palace of Westminster. Petitions themselves are treated in a summary manner which permits of little time being wasted. No debate is permitted upon the subjects raised by petitions, and the formal method of presentation has given place to a more satisfactory (if somewhat perfunctory) fashion of dealing with them.
Behind the Speaker's Chair hangs a large bag. In this a petition may be placed, at any time during a sitting, by the member in charge of it. Thence it is sent to the Committee on Public Petitions, and presumably never heard of again. Petitions sometimes contain so many signatures, and are consequently so bulky, that no earthly bag could possibly contain them. In 1890, for instance, a petition eight miles in length, in favour of the Local Taxation Bill, was presented to Parliament, and in 1908 another, almost as voluminous, provided a material protest against the Licensing Bill. Petitions of such proportions are carried into the House on the shoulders of stout officials, and, after reposing for a brief space upon the floor, are presently borne away to be no more seen or remembered.
When petitions have been disposed of, motions for unopposed returns are taken, and other formal business; and then follows question-time, perhaps one of the most important hours of the parliamentary day, when a hitherto languid House begins to take some interest in the proceedings.
Politicians would appear to be among the most inquisitive individuals on the face of the globe; their thirst for general information is as insatiable as it is amazing. The time spent by various Government officials in pandering to this craving for knowledge on the part of legislators is very considerable: it has even been hinted that the clerks at the Irish Office are employed exclusively upon the task of answering conundrums set by members of the House of Commons. Nothing is too insignificant, no matter is too sacred, to be made the subject of a question in the House. But, although any member has a perfect right to apply for a return, or to ask any question he pleases, within certain bounds, a Minister of the Crown may always refuse to supply the return, or decline to answer the question; nor need he give any reason for so doing. This rule provides a loophole for a Minister who is confronted with an awkward question to which it would need the powers of subtlety and casuistry of a Gladstone to find a non-committal reply.389
A member of Lord Aberdeen's Ministry in 1854 was attacked for not rendering a certain return that had been applied for. He made no comment at the time, but on a subsequent occasion produced and laid on the Table of the House a huge folio volume weighing 1388 lbs. and containing seventy-two reams of foolscap. The compilation of this return, as he informed the House, had caused the dispatch of 34,500 circular letters and the cataloguing and tabulating of 34,500 replies. The result of the figures mentioned therein had not been arrived at, the Minister went on to explain, as it would have taken two clerks a whole year to add them up. Further, he added, the return, if completed, would afford no information beyond that which the House already possessed.390
Ever since 1902, a written instead of an oral reply can be rendered to all questions that are not marked with an asterisk by the member who asks them. No questions may be asked after a certain hour, and the answers to those that have not been reached at that hour, as well as to those that are not marked with an asterisk, are printed and circulated, thus saving a great deal of valuable time.
Questions must be brief and relevant. No member may ask an excessive or unreasonable number, nor may he couch them in lengthy terms. They may not be framed argumentatively nor contain personal charges against individuals. The Speaker is empowered to disallow any question if he thinks fit, and often interposes to check supplementary questions which are not relevant, or which constitute an abuse of the right to interrogate Ministers; and the latter are always at liberty to refuse an answer on the grounds that a reply would be contrary to the public interest. Whenever our relations with foreign Powers are in any way strained, certain members seem to take a delight in asking questions calculated to hamper the movements of the Foreign Office, or to provide other nations with all the secret information they desire. And it is not always expedient or easy for Ministers to refuse to satisfy the thirst for knowledge of their friends or opponents, or to try and choke off the inquisitive or importunate with evasive answers. It was always said that "Darby Griffith destroyed Lord Palmerston's first Government," by asking perpetual questions which the Premier answered with a "cheerful impertinence which hurt his parliamentary power."391 And the amount of patience and tact displayed by modern Ministers in replying to frivolous or petty queries is always a subject of admiration to the stranger.
Members no doubt feel it their duty to provide their constituencies with some material evidence of their parliamentary labours, and no easier method can be imagined than the asking of questions on subjects in which they possibly take not the slightest interest. Some politicians openly confess that their secretaries have orders to make out a regular weekly list of conundrums which they can hurl at the heads of unoffending Ministers, with no other purpose than that of showing their constituents that they are taking an active interest in the affairs of the nation. The criticism made by a parliamentary writer fifty years ago is equally applicable to-day. "It would seem to be the chief amusement of some members diligently to read the newspapers in the morning, and to ask Ministers of State in the afternoon if they have read them too, and what they think of them."392
The growth of this yearning for information is very clearly shown by a glance at the parliamentary statistics for the last hundred years. In 1800 not a single question was put during the whole of one session. In 1846 the number of questions asked with due notice was sixty-nine. In 1850 the number had risen to 212, in 1888 to 5000; in 1901 over 7000 questions were put, and to-day the number is still steadily increasing.
At four o'clock, or earlier if questions have been disposed of, the House proceeds to the consideration of its public business and the "orders of the day," and the real business of Parliament begins.
CHAPTER XIV
PARLIAMENT AT WORK (II)
The modern system of legislating by Bill and Statute dates from the reign of Henry VI. In earlier days legislation was effected by means of humble petitions presented to the Crown by the Commons, and granted or refused according as the King thought fit.
Every Act of Parliament commences its existence in the shape of a Bill. As such, it may be introduced in either House, though the Commons have the undoubted monopoly of initiating financial measures, and Bills for the restitution of honours and blood must originate with the Lords. In the Upper House, any peer may introduce a Bill without notice, but in the Commons a member must give notice of his intention either to present a measure or move for leave to do so. A Bill whose main object is to impose a charge upon the public revenue must first be authorized by a resolution of a Committee of the Whole House.
Bills may be roughly classified under the two headings of Public and Private, according as they affect the general interest or are framed for the benefit of individuals or groups of individuals, though there also exist hybrid Bills which cannot be rightly placed in either category. But whatever their nature, Bills must pass through five successive stages. In the House of Lords, however, the Committee and Report stages are occasionally negatived in the case of Money Bills, and the Committee stage of Private Bills is conducted outside the House either before the Chairman of Committees or, in case of opposition, by a Select Committee of the House.
In ancient days the proceedings were not so lengthy as they afterwards became, a Bill being sometimes read three times and passed in a single day;393 but nowadays the passage through Parliament of a Controversial Bill is a tedious affair.
It will be sufficient for the purposes of this chapter to take the example of a Public Bill introduced in the House of Commons, and follow it from its embryonic state along the course of its career until, as an Act of Parliament, it finally takes its place in the statute-book of the land.
By obtaining the permission of the House, a Member of Parliament may bring in a Bill upon any conceivable subject, but it is not always possible for him to find the necessary opportunity for doing so, unless he happens to be exceptionally favoured by fortune.394 In these days, when the time at the disposal of Parliament is altogether inadequate to the demands made upon it by legislation, the chances of passing a Bill without the support of the Government are for a private member extremely small. Even with official assistance this is not always an easy matter. It is perhaps as well that the passion for legislation latent in the bosom of every politician should to some extent be curbed. George II. said to Lord Waldegrave that Parliament passed nearly a hundred laws every session, which seemed made for no other purpose than to afford people the pleasure of breaking them, and his opinion that the less legislation effected by Parliament the better for the country is still popular in many quarters.395
On the third day of every session the question of the priority of members' claims to introduce Bills and motions is decided by ballot.
A member who is lucky, and has, if necessary, obtained the leave of the House, can introduce his Bill briefly and without debate. Taking his stand at the bar, he awaits the summons of the Speaker, when, advancing to the Table, he hands to the Clerk a "dummy" on which the title of the Bill is written. This the Clerk proceeds to read to the House. The Bill is then considered to have been read a first time, and ordered to be printed, and a day is fixed for the Second Reading.
The First Reading is looked upon as a mere matter of form, and rarely opposed.396 It is on the Second Reading, when the principle of the Bill is by way of being discussed, that any real antagonism begins to make itself felt. Opponents may negative the motion that the Bill be now read a second time – in which case the motion may be repeated another day – or may adopt the more usual and polite method of moving that the Bill be read "this day six (or three) months" – the intention being to destroy the Bill by postponing the Second Reading until after the prorogation of Parliament. No Bill or motion on which the House has given such a decision may be brought up again during the same session, so that a postponement of the reading is merely a courteous way of shelving it altogether.397
A Bill that has successfully weathered a Second Reading stands committed to a Committee of the Whole House, unless the House, on motion, resolves that it be referred to some other kind of Committee, viz., a Grand Committee, a Select Committee, or a Joint Committee of both Houses.
When the House is to resolve itself into Committee a motion to that effect is made in the Lords, to which an amendment may be moved; in the Commons the Speaker leaves the chair, and the Chairman of Committees at once presides, sitting in the Clerk's chair at the Table. The Bill is then discussed clause by clause, and any number of amendments may be proposed to each line, and any number of speeches made by any member on each amendment. No limit is set to the number of amendments that may be moved, provided they are relevant and consistent with the policy of the Bill. This is therefore by far the most lengthy stage of the Bill, and it was in order to accelerate the progress of business that, in 1883, Standing Committees, consisting of from sixty to eighty members, were created to which Bills relating to Law and Trade were to be referred instead of to the Committee of the Whole House.
When the Bill has passed through the Committee stage, it is reported to the House with or without amendments. In the former case, a day is fixed for the discussion of its altered shape, and on this "Report" stage further amendments may be made. At the Third Reading a Bill may still be rejected, or postponed "for six months," or re-committed, but in the Commons no material amendments may be made to it. This stage is usually taken at once after the Report; but in the Lords the two stages must be on different days, and amendments may be made after due notice on the Third Reading.
When a Bill has safely passed all its stages in the Lower House, the Clerk of the Commons attaches to it a polite message in Norman-French – "soit baillé aux seigneurs" – and hands it to his colleague in the Lords. The latter lays it on the Table of the Upper House, where it lies until taken up by some peer – which must be done within twelve sitting days, if the Bill is not to be lost (though it may be raised from the dead by notice of a motion to revive it of the same duration) – when its subsequent treatment, with the few differences noted above, is very similar to that which it has already undergone.
Should the Lords pass a Bill as it stands, a message to that effect is sent to the Commons. If, however, they have made alterations, the Clerk of the Parliaments writes, "A ceste bille avesque des amendemens les seignieurs sont assentus" across it, and returns it to the Clerk of the other House.398 The Commons then proceed to consider the Lords' amendments on some future day. If the two Houses cannot agree, they must either summon a Conference – nowadays an unusual step to take399– or a Select Committee of the dissenting House sends a specially prepared message to the other Chamber, explaining the reasons for its disagreement. Numerous messages may pass in this way, for the purpose of coming to an agreement; but if they fail, the Bill is lost for the Session.
When a Bill has passed both Houses, nothing remains but to give it the Royal Assent, which is done by the Clerk of the Parliaments.400
The Royal Assent is nowadays a mere formality – a final ceremonial which marks the last stage of a Bill's progress ere it becomes law. It is usually given by the Lords Commissioners, who act as representatives of the Crown, though there is nothing to prevent a sovereign from performing this duty himself. On August 2, 1831, when the Bill making separate financial provision for Queen Adelaide received the Royal Assent, both the King and Queen attended in Parliament, and the latter acknowledged her indebtedness by bowing thrice, presumably to King, Lords and Commons. As a rule, however, the sovereign is not present on these occasions, his place being taken by a Commission. This consists of the Lord Chancellor and two other Lords, who take their seats, prior to the ceremony, upon a form placed between the Throne and the Woolsack. The Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod is then commanded to summon the faithful Commons, and, on the arrival of the latter at the bar of the Lords, the titles of the various Bills are read aloud by the Clerk of the Crown, and the Royal Assent is given by the Clerk of the Parliaments in old-fashioned Norman-French. In the case of a Money Bill, brought up by the Speaker of the Commons, and received by the Clerk of the Parliaments, who bears it to the Table bowing, the formula runs as follows: —
"Le Roi remerçie ses bons sujets, accepte leur benevolence, et ainsi le veult."
In the case of a Public or Private Bill, the respective phrases, "Le Roi le veult" or "Soit fait comme il est désiré" are substituted, though, as a matter of practice, the latter phrase is only used for Estate, Naturalisation and Divorce Bills.
In olden days, when the Crown was often in the habit of refusing to consent to the passing of particular Bills, the words used by the Clerk of the Parliaments to signify the royal veto were "Le Roi s'avisera." In this way Queen Elizabeth quashed no less than forty-eight Bills that had passed through Parliament, and William III. similarly declined to assent to the Parliamentary Proceedings Bill of 1693, much to the annoyance of the Commons. But never since Queen Anne vetoed the Scotch Militia Bill, in 1707, has any sovereign refused the Royal Assent.
All questions before Parliament are decided by the voice of the majority. And though, as Gladstone once said, decision by majorities may be as much an expedient as lighting by gas, it is an expedient that answers very well in practice, and for which an effective substitute has yet to be found. Majority may sometimes seem a clumsy argument, but it always remains "the best repartee."
The procedure in either House for ascertaining the general opinion upon any measure or motion differs but slightly in form, and not at all in principle. At the end of every debate the question under discussion is laid before the House by its Speaker or Chairman. This he does by rising in his place and saying, "The question is that …" (here follows the exact words of the motion). "As many as are of that opinion say 'Aye!'; as many as are of the contrary opinion say 'No!'" (In the Lords the words "Content" and "Not Content" are substituted for "Aye" and "No.") Members or peers thereupon express their views in the required manner, and the Speaker (or Chairman), gathering what is called the "sense of the House" by the volume of sound proceeding from either party, says, "I think the Ayes (or Noes)" – or, in the Lords "the Contents" or "Not Contents" – "have it!"
If the judgment of the Chair be unchallenged, the question is deemed to be resolved in the affirmative or negative, as the case may be, and nothing further remains to be done. Should, however, either party question the correctness of the Chairman's opinion, recourse is had to a division, and certain necessary formalities have to be observed before the matter is definitely settled one way or the other.
When a division is challenged in the House of Commons, the Speaker (or Chairman) orders the Sergeant-at-Arms to "Clear the lobby," and the tellers' doors leading from the lobbies, as well as the door leading from the Central Hall, are immediately locked. After the lapse of two minutes, during which the loud division-bells are set ringing all over the building to summon breathless members to the Chamber, the question is again put from the Chair. If once more challenged, the Speaker names two members of either party to act as "tellers." Should no one be found willing to undertake this duty, a division cannot take place, and the Speaker declares that the "Noes" have it. If, however, tellers are duly appointed, they take their place at the exit doors leading from the two lobbies, which are now unlocked. After another interval, this time of four minutes' duration, the doors leading from the House to the lobbies are locked. Meanwhile, all members who wish to vote have left the Chamber, and are streaming through their respective lobbies, where their names are recorded by clerks, while the tellers count them as they pass through the lobby doors.
In the old days of St Stephen's Chapel, the "Ayes" used to remain in the House, while the "Noes" withdrew, and were counted on their return. This practice led to endless difficulties, many members refusing to go out for fear of losing their seats, while others were forcibly detained by their friends. In Elizabeth's time, Sir Walter Raleigh admitted that he often held a fellow-member by his sleeve, and others were accused of pulling each other back, as Cecil said, "like a dog on a string."401 Later on, it was decided that members who gave their votes for the introduction of "any new matter" should alone withdraw, while the votes of those who remained behind were recorded. This system also had its disadvantages. In 1834, for instance, when a certain Whig member, Colonel Evans, fell asleep in one of the side galleries during a division, he woke to find that he had been counted among the Tories, much to his disgust. Finally, two years later, the practice of clearing the House altogether for a division was first instituted, and continued in force until the establishment of the modern method in 1906.402
When all members who desire to vote have filed through the lobbies, and are once more reassembled in the House, the four tellers advance together to the Table. The senior teller of the party having a majority, walks on the right, bearing in his hand a slip of paper, on which are written the numbers of the division. By the position of the teller it is thus possible to gauge the result of a division before it has been officially announced, and his advance to the Table in the place of honour is usually the signal for an outburst of cheering from his own victorious party. He proceeds to report the result of the division to the Clerk at the Table, who writes the numbers on a piece of paper, which he hands back to him. This the teller passes to the Speaker, who, in turn, announces the numbers to the House. The doors are then unlocked, and the division is at an end.
On one famous occasion the tellers failed to agree in their reports of the figures. This happened on May 10, 1675, when the House in Committee had divided on a motion with regard to the English regiments serving in the French army. The tellers' difference of opinion gave rise to a scene of great confusion, during which one member spat in another's face, and a free fight would probably have ensued but for the sudden arrival of the Speaker.
The amount of time spent in dividing has always been a source of annoyance to earnest politicians, more especially when divisions are made use of as a recognised form of obstruction, and the progress of parliamentary business thereby much impeded. In 1902, to name a recent example, the opponents of the Deceased Wife's Sister Bill, which had already passed a Second Reading, deliberately walked so slowly through the lobbies during four divisions that there was no time left to move that it should be sent to a Grand Committee. Members naturally grudge the precious hours wasted in trudging through the lobbies; but it seems impossible to invent any scheme that shall further expedite matters, the present system being apparently as perfect as the mind of man can devise.403
When a division is called in the House of Lords, the procedure is very similar in character to that of the Commons. The Chancellor (or Lord on the Woolsack) orders strangers to withdraw by saying, "Clear the bar!" and the Clerk of the Parliaments thereupon turns a two-minute sand-glass.
When the sand has run out of the glass, the doors are locked, and the question is once more put to the House. If the Lord Chancellor's decision is challenged he at once says, "the 'Contents' will go to the right by the Throne, and the 'Not Contents' to the left by the bar." Each party then passes through its own lobby, the "Contents" re-entering the House on the right of the bar, the "Not Contents" through the door on the left of the Throne, their votes being duly recorded by clerks in the lobbies. The subsequent procedure resembles that in vogue in the Lower House.
Until 1857, when the present system was adopted, the "Contents" remained within the bar, while the "Not Contents" went below the bar. Peers, who through infirmity, or other causes, are disabled from leaving the House, may by its permission be "told" in their seats, and those who do not wish to vote at all are allowed to go within the railings on the steps of the Throne.
In old days the practice of voting by proxy was habitual in the House of Lords. During the reign of Edward I., nobles who were unable to attend in person invariably sent messengers to act for them. Peers were permitted to appoint any individuals to represent them, either permanently or on special occasions, and, up to the fifteenth century, these proxies did not even have to be peers themselves. In the time of Henry VIII. the custom of allowing peers to represent one another was first instituted, and in Charles I.'s day we find the Duke of Buckingham holding no less than fourteen proxies. Such a custom naturally led to many abuses, and an order was eventually passed forbidding any peer to hold more than two proxies. Finally, in 1868, the House of Lords realised that the practice was reprehensible, and passed a Standing Order whereby the system of calling for proxies on a division was discontinued.
