The Mother of Parliaments Part 17

Occasional efforts have been made to stem the flow of parliamentary eloquence in the Commons, but without much success. The late Sir Carne Rasch tried for years to shorten speeches, but in vain. Mr. Hogan sought to introduce the New Zealand scheme, whereby the Speaker rings a bell when any member has spoken for twenty minutes; but though Mr.

Balfour declared that twenty minutes erred on the side of generosity, nothing came of this suggestion. In spite of a good deal of unnecessary talking, the House of Commons gets through a lot of work, though there is no doubt that, as Bright said, more business could be done if so much time were not wasted in unprofitable eloquence.[251]

Dr. Johnson, visiting a musical family of his acquaintance, suggested that they should all perform together. "There will then," he explained, "be more noise, but it will be sooner over." Similar suggestions have been made with regard to the House of Commons, but the question of stifling parliamentary loquacity remains unsolved.

[251] "I must say that it (the House of Commons) would be a better machine if men were a little less vain, and would adopt a policy of silence. If they would be anxious to get through the business of the House without so much anxiety for self-exhibition as I have sometimes observed, I think the House of Commons might do a good deal more work, and very much better work than it does at present."--Speech at the Fishmongers' Hall, April 27, 1881.

When such loquacity was deliberately employed to delay business, obstruction took various forms, of which the favourite one a few years ago consisted of motions to adjourn the debate or adjourn the House.

Sheridan once made this motion nineteen successive times, until members were so tired of tramping through the lobbies that they gave in and went home.[252] In 1831, on July 12th, the opponents of the Reform Bill saw that their only hope lay in r.e.t.a.r.ding the business of the House. They set about to force a division on repeated motions for adjournment, and it was not until 7.30 a.m. of the following day that the Commons at length adjourned. Sir Charles Wetherell, who led the Opposition on this occasion, came out of the House to find that it was raining hard. "By G.o.d!" said he, "if I'd known this, they should have had a few more divisions!"[253]

[252] Grant's "Recollections," p. 53. Nowadays no member can make this motion more than once.

[253] Molesworth's "History of the Reform Bill," p. 214.

In 1833, and again ten years later, the Irish party resisted two Bills by this means, on the latter occasion calling for no less than forty-four divisions. And when the Copyright Bill of 1839 was being debated, a minority of nine members compelled one hundred and twenty-seven of their colleagues to divide sixteen times.

There is, as Gladstone said, no art or science which has made such advance in modern times as has that of parliamentary obstruction.

Gladstone himself resolutely and systematically obstructed the pa.s.sage of the Divorce Bill, as Sir Robert Peel before him had obstructed Lord Grey's Reform Bill. These statesmen, however, employed a recognised form of opposition to some particular measure. It was left for the Irish party to devise a system of regular opposition to the conduct of any parliamentary business whatsoever.

Parnell's knowledge of the rules of debate was extensive and peculiar.

He himself acted upon the advice which he once gave to a new member when he told him that the best way to learn the regulations of the House was by breaking them. It was he who originated the idea of employing what he called "the sacred right of obstruction" as a protest against the alleged Government neglect of Irish grievances. He sought by this means to show that, though his party was not powerful enough to carry through its own work properly, it was sufficiently strong to prevent the English Government from doing any work at all.

In this way he no doubt thought to carry out the last wishes of Grattan, and to "keep knocking at the Union."

The forms of the House of Commons, as Sir George Cornwall Lewis has said, were avowedly contrived for the protection of minorities; and they are so effectual for their purpose as frequently to defeat the will of the great body of the House, and enable a few members to resist, at least for a time, a measure desired by the majority.[254]

The Irish have, of course, always been dissatisfied. If they had happened to be in the wilderness with Moses, as Bright once observed, they would probably have complained of the Ten Commandments as a hara.s.sing piece of legislation--and not altogether without justification. But in 1874, when they adopted the att.i.tude of antagonism to the transaction of all business, obstruction in such a form as this was a novelty, and their more const.i.tutionally-minded leader, b.u.t.t, repudiated Parnell and his methods. The latter was not to be moved from his purpose, however, and with half a dozen intrepid and obstinate followers continued the practice of an organized plan of obstruction, of which the only flattering thing that can be said is that it was for a long time completely successful.

[254] See "Influence of Authority in Matters of Opinion," p. 219.

Parnell himself deliberately expressed his satisfaction in thwarting the Government and preventing the progress of parliamentary business.

He gloried in his offence, thinking very probably that England's difficulty was Ireland's opportunity. On sixty-nine occasions in 1877, when the House of Commons was forced to divide, the minorities never consisted of more than eleven members, and in one hundred divisions they did not exceed twenty-one. Parnell addressed the House five hundred times in the session of 1879, constantly repeating the same arguments, raising points which had already been ruled out of order, making a variety of frivolous objections, and showing in a hundred ways that his evident desire was merely to waste the time of Parliament.

Owing to obstructive Irish tactics, the Land Act of 1881 required no less than fifty-eight sittings before it could be pa.s.sed. In the same year the climax of obstruction was reached, and it became obvious that some measures must be taken to prevent the continuation of such a state of affairs. On January 31, which was a Monday, the House of Commons met at 4.30 p.m. and sat without interval until 9.30 a.m. on the following Wednesday. But for the intervention of the Chair, the sitting might have been prolonged indefinitely. Fortunately, Speaker Brand was a strong man, and had privately determined to put a stop to a condition of things which was bringing the House into contempt and threatening the complete breakdown of all legislative business.

On resuming the Chair on the Wednesday morning, the Speaker rose and addressed the House in a carefully prepared speech. He began by expressing his unqualified disapproval of the continual obstruction of a stubborn and inconsiderable minority, whereby the ordinary rules of procedure had been rendered ineffective, and the dignity of the House endangered. Acting on his own responsibility, he declared that a new course was imperatively demanded. He declined therefore to call upon any more members to speak, and proceeded to "put the question,"

relying upon the House to support him in this unusual act.

The Speaker had accurately gauged the "sense of the House";[255] his solution of the difficulty was loudly applauded, save of course upon the Irish benches, and, after a sitting that had lasted for over forty-one consecutive hours, weary members were at last enabled to enjoy a well-earned repose.

[255] With regard to those well-worn expressions, the "sense" of the House and the "feeling" of the House, it has been stated that the House of Commons has more sense and feeling than any one who sits upon its benches: "The collective wisdom of Parliament exceeds the wisdom of any single head therein."

Shortly after this memorable scene, a new set of rules was framed, restricting debate on all dilatory motions, and preventing any member from making them more than once. The authority of the Speaker also was increased, and it was made optional for him to put the question forthwith, if he thought the rules were being abused. He was also endowed with the power of at any time silencing an unruly or obstructive member.

In 1882, Gladstone proposed an alteration of the Procedure Regulations, which allowed the Speaker or Chairman, when a subject had been adequately discussed, and it was evidently the sense of the House that the question be put, so to inform the House; and, if a motion to this effect was put and carried, supported by more than two hundred members, or supported by one hundred and opposed by less than forty, the question was to be put forthwith. This "Closure" rule was amended six years later, when it was resolved that, after a question had been proposed, any member could move that "the question be now put," and, with the Speaker's approval, this motion might be put without debate, provided that in the division not less than one hundred members voted in its support.

Still more stringent regulations have since been made to thwart the obstructive tendencies of a certain section of every Opposition. By a recent Standing Order, the end of a debate may be fixed by resolution of the House for a certain hour and date, and, if the subject is not disposed of by that time, the undiscussed remainder must be decided by a vote upon which there can be no debate. This is known as the "guillotine" or "closure by compartments," and has been commented on adversely by all minorities and sedulously practised by every Government since its inception.

In spite, however, of the many efforts which have been made to accelerate business, the parliamentary machine moves but slowly, and the time spent in discussing any measure to which there is active, sincere, and persistent opposition shows no signs of diminishing in length. Thus, while the Home Rule Bill of 1893 required 180 divisions, the Education Bill of 1902 required 295; and over the Finance Bill of 1909 Parliament spent something like 73 days (or 740 hours) and divided no less than 420 times.

CHAPTER X

PARLIAMENTARY PRIVILEGE AND PUNISHMENT

Parliament has ever been most tenacious of its historic and traditionary rights and privileges. Of these, freedom of speech and freedom from arrest may be considered the most important. The right of personal access to the Crown is claimed by peers, any one of whom may demand a private audience with the sovereign, and, though the Commons are not granted a similar privilege, it is permissible for them to accompany their Speaker when he presents an address to the King, and to wear ordinary dress on such an occasion.

In olden days peers enjoyed other indulgences denied to their humbler brethren. They were, for instance, permitted to kill deer in the King's forests whenever, in obedience to a royal summons, they journeyed to or from the sovereign. At such times the bag was limited to two deer, and these might only be slain in the presence of the King's Forester. If that official were not at hand, the sporting peer was enjoined to blow several loud blasts upon his hunting-horn before pursuing his quarry to the death.[256] Peers were further allowed "benefit of clergy," in the good old days, for such crimes as highway robbery, horse-stealing and house-breaking, but only for a first offence. If they took up burglary as a hobby, or if the robbery of churches became with them a daily habit, they could no longer escape from the consequences of their misdeeds, and were haled to prison just as though they had been mere ordinary mortals. "Benefit of clergy"

was a privilege which was repealed by Act of Parliament in 1801, and a peer to-day cannot steal a single gold watch with impunity.

[256] Pike's "Const.i.tutional History," p. 267.

Exemption from arrest on a civil process during the session, or for forty days before and after, is a privilege which members of the House of Commons as well as the Lords have always enjoyed.[257] It extended to their estates until 1857, and to their servants until 1892. This immunity does not, however, extend to breaches of the criminal law, nor can it be claimed in the case of an indictable offence or of contempt of court, its original object being merely to secure freedom of arrival and attendance. The Speaker of the Commons, Thomas Thorpe, who was summoned in Henry VI.'s time for carrying away certain goods and chattels from the Bishop of Durham's Palace, was fined 1000, and committed to the Fleet until this sum should be paid. The question of privilege was raised, but the House of Lords decided that the culprit must remain in prison, and the Commons were directed to elect another Speaker.

[257] Peeresses may also claim this as a right.

In the early days of Parliament, privilege from arrest was generally enforced by a resolution of the House or by a Chancery writ, though there is at least one instance of a member being released without any such formality. This occurred in the case of a member named Ferrars, who had been arrested for debt by the Sheriff of London in 1543. The Sergeant-at-Arms who went to demand his release was illtreated, and sent back empty-handed. The House thereupon summoned the sheriff to the Bar, and with him the creditor who had sued Ferrars, and committed both to prison.

In 1575 the privilege was extended, the servants of members of the House of Commons being included within the pale of its protection.

This naturally led to many abuses, culminating in the case of the notorious Colonel w.a.n.klyn. This member gave a signed "protection" to a wealthy friend whom he falsely named as his servant in order to enable him to escape the payment of a debt which he owed to his own wife. The fraud being made public, the culprit was expelled from the House, and went away weeping bitterly, "to the scandal of his brother officers."[258] In the same year a man named Smalley, the servant of Arthur Hall, member for Grantham, was arrested for debt and released by the Speaker's order. It was afterwards discovered that he had arranged his arrest so as to elude his financial liabilities, and the indignant House ordered him to be imprisoned and fined 100.[259]

Further discredit was cast upon one of the ancient privileges of Parliament by another member named Benson, who was found guilty of selling "protections" at sixteen shillings apiece, and was turned out of the House.

[258] Townsend's "History," vol. i. p. 253.

[259] Raikes's "Journal," vol. i. p. 320.

If the Commons were justly severe in their treatment of members who abused this particular privilege, they punished with even greater severity any unfortunate persons who attempted to violate it. In 1584 an official of the mighty Star Chamber was committed to the Tower for daring to serve a _subpoena_ on a member of Parliament. At the beginning of the next century, two officers who had arrested a member's servant were condemned to ride together upon a single horse, back to back, through the streets of London. In this insecure and undignified position they were taken from Westminster to the Exchange, wearing upon their b.r.e.a.s.t.s a placard inscribed with their offence, an awful example to all who would dream of laying hands on the sacred persons of parliamentarians or their dependents.

The immunity which members had hitherto enjoyed was slightly modified in 1700, when an Act was pa.s.sed permitting civil suits to be commenced against them after a dissolution or prorogation, or during any adjournment of more than fourteen days. Later on, in George III.'s reign, their privileges were still further curtailed, their persons alone being held sacred, and that for a period of only forty days before or after the meeting of Parliament. Use was still made of this privilege as a shield from the power of the law, and as late as 1807 there are instances of the unscrupulous purchase of seats in the Commons for the sole purpose of obtaining release from prison or escaping the payment of debt.

To this day members of Parliament are safe from arrest within the precincts of the Palace of Westminster. Irish members who had been convicted under the Coercion Act, in the palmy days of the Land League, found in the House of Commons a useful if only temporary sanctuary. Dr. Tanner took his seat there at a time when a warrant for his arrest had been issued, and it was not until the adjournment of the House and the return to his hotel of this member, so badly "wanted by the police," that he could be lawfully apprehended.

The jealous care with which Parliament guarded its rights in olden days often threatened to bring the very name of privilege into contempt. The Commons especially acquired the pernicious habit of voting that whatsoever displeased them was an insult to Parliament, requiring instant and drastic punishment. Books or sermons which criticized or reflected upon the doings of either House were condemned wholesale, confiscated, and publicly burnt by the common hangman; authors or preachers were imprisoned and otherwise penalized. "The Parliament-men are as great Princes as any in the World," says Selden, "when whatsoever they please is privilege of Parliament; no man must know the number of their privileges, and whatsoever they dislike is breach of privilege."[260]

[260] "Table Talk," p. 109.

Impeachment, imprisonment, fines, confiscation of property, or committal to the Tower, were among the penalties meted out with a lavish hand to all who gave offence to the Commons. In 1624, Dr.

Harrys, vicar of Blechingly, was brought to the bar of the Commons for interfering at elections, and compelled to confess his guilt, and afterwards to apologise to his parishioners. A Welsh judge named Jenkins was summoned before the Long Parliament for having called the House of Commons a den of thieves, and, on refusing to "bow himself in this house of Rimmon," was sentenced to death.

The most trivial faults, the most innocent acts, were from time to time voted contempts of Parliament, and the offenders chastised with a barbarity which was out of all proportion to the nature of their misdeeds. So harmless an offence as crowding or jostling against a member of Parliament was at one time considered a crime. In the days when the great Arthur Onslow occupied the Chair of the House of Commons, it was his custom to traverse Westminster Hall on his way to the House, saluting the Judges as he pa.s.sed. An unfortunate man who accidentally blocked the Speaker's path on one occasion was instantly ordered into custody.[261]

[261] Hatsell's "Precedents," vol. ii. p. 241 n.

Poaching the game of a member of Parliament was also adjudged a misdemeanour worthy of severe retribution. A poacher who trespa.s.sed on the fishing rights of Admiral Griffiths, M.P., in 1759, was reprimanded on his knees at the bar of the Commons.[262]

[262] Lord Russell's "Essays and Sketches," p. 346.

The presentation of fraudulent pet.i.tions has always been regarded as a breach of parliamentary privilege; and, in 1887, a man named Bidmead, who presented a pet.i.tion which was found to be full of false signatures, was brought to the bar and severely reprimanded. This process of haling an offender to the bar to receive the censure of the House was an impressive one, calculated to strike fear into the boldest heart. The culprit was brought in, in the custody of the Sergeant-at-Arms, and compelled to kneel at the bar, where the Speaker sentenced him in his severest tones to such penalties as the House deemed sufficient to expiate his crime. One wretched prisoner was so alarmed that he had a fit, and was carried out in an unconscious condition.

The rule requiring an offender to kneel was not finally repealed until the middle of the eighteenth century. In 1751 an attorney named Crowle was reprimanded on his knees for misconduct of some kind or other at an election. On rising to his feet Mr. Crowle carefully wiped the knees of his trousers, remarking contemptuously that he had never before been in so dirty a house.[263] In this same year Alexander Murray, brother of the Jacobite Lord Elibank, was summoned for obstructing the High Bailiff of Westminster at election time. He resolutely declined to kneel when brought to the Commons bar, nor could the threats or entreaties of the Sergeant-at-Arms prevail upon him to conform to the rules of the House in this respect. "I never kneel but to G.o.d," he said. "When I have committed a crime I kneel to G.o.d for pardon, but, knowing my own innocence, I can kneel to no one else." As a punishment for his obstinacy, Murray was committed to Newgate, and remained there until the prorogation of Parliament. The close of the session operated as his release, and he was acclaimed in triumph by the City populace. When Parliament met again he was once more committed, but fled abroad, and so escaped further imprisonment.