THE BRITISH REPUBLIC AND THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.
LONDON, _July 15, 1902_.
The nominal ruler of the British Empire is His Majesty, Edward VII.
The real ruler is the House of Commons. Though I was in Great Britain
at the time of the coronation, and saw something of the pomp with
which it was celebrated, I have not thought it worth while to occupy
the time of my readers with descriptions of it, since it is only one
of those glittering fictions which the English people see fit to
preserve, notwithstanding their general good sense--a somewhat childish
observance of outworn mediæval ceremonies, a foolish and expensive
form. But certainly I ought not to quit the subject of the political
ideas suggested by a sojourn in London, and especially by repeated
visits to that most interesting portion of it, Westminster, without
some reference to the part it has played in developing the model
of all the free governments of the world. For, as a British writer
has truly said, Westminster is historically the centre of politics,
not for London and Great Britain only, but for the civilized world.
"All civilized nations, both in Europe and America, as well as all
the British colonies, have now adopted the constitution which was
here founded and developed, with a single head of the State and two
chambers; though, with regard to the headship of the State and the
upper chamber, the elective has, in the most advanced politics, been
substituted for the hereditary principle, while in the cases of the
United States and Switzerland there is a federal as well as a national
element. The Roman imposed his institutions with arms upon a conquered
world; a willing world has adopted the institutions which had their
original seat at Westminster. But the British Constitution now means
little more than the omnipotence of the House of Commons. The immense
edifice is still styled the palace; but the King who now dwells in the
palace is the sovereign people."
[Sidenote: The Houses of Parliament.]
For this reason it is more common now to speak of the Palace of
Westminster as the Houses of Parliament. It is a vast and costly
pile, one of the largest Gothic buildings in the world, erected about
fifty years ago, in the Tudor style, at an outlay of fifteen million
dollars. The extremely florid exterior is constructed of a limestone so
perishable that already it costs ten thousand dollars a year to keep
it in repair. Tastes differ as to the merit of the architecture. Some
pronounce the building majestic and imposing. Others say that at a
little distance the river front looks like a large modern cotton mill.
All agree that there is too much elaborate ornamentation.
This is true of the interior, as well as the exterior, and, as some one
has said, it is interesting to observe the attempt made to preserve a
constitutional fiction by decorating with special gorgeousness that
Chamber of the House which has been stripped of all its power, viz.,
the House of Lords. It is resplendent in the vivid red leather which
covers the seats and backs of the straight benches, rising in tiers on
the opposite sides, and in the sumptuous frescoes of the walls, the
rich stained glass of the windows, and the excessive gilding of the
ceiling. The leather on the benches in the House of Commons is black,
and there is less of magnificence in general than in the Chamber of the
Peers, though it also is a rich interior.
[Illustration: THE HOUSE OF PARLIAMENT, LONDON.]
Yet neither of them makes an impression of spaciousness and
grandeur, and, to one who has seen the noble halls in which our
Senate and House of Representatives sit at Washington, both of these
legislative chambers of Britain seem small and cramped. They are also
mean and uncomfortable in their arrangements as compared with those
of our Congress. At Washington each member has his own chair, and
a desk for his books and papers. But here there are no desks, only
rigid benches, upon which the members sit or loll, facing each other
across the narrow chamber, the supporters of the government on the
Speaker's right, and the opposition on his left. Worst of all is the
fact that, though the combined science of the country was employed in
the construction of these halls of session and debate, they are both
wretched failures as to ventilation and acoustics, the House of Lords
being so bad in the latter particular that it used to be said that
members went out to buy an evening paper in order to learn what the
debate was about.
[Sidenote: Getting into the Lower House.]
As the House of Commons is King, we looked forward with eager interest
to a visit to that potent body. At the instance of our good friend,
Dr. Kerr, Sir James Campbell, a Presbyterian member of the House from
Scotland, wrote us an invitation to visit the Commons in session, but,
when we reached the door, at the appointed hour, and sent in our cards
through the line of policemen and doorkeepers, there was no reply.
When we had waited some time, a gentleman in the crowd at the entrance
accosted us, and asked if we were not Americans, and if we did not wish
to get into the House, both of which polite inquiries we answered with
an eager affirmative. He said he thought he could arrange it for us,
and, handing us his card, from which we learned that he was the London
correspondent of a great American newspaper, he left us for a minute,
and soon returned, accompanied by a friend of his, one of the Irish
members of the House, to whom we were introduced, and who promptly
procured us permission to enter the visitors' gallery. At Washington,
any one who chooses can go into the visitors' gallery, and listen to
the debates, but here there is a good deal of red tape. You must even
register your name and address, besides being introduced by a member,
before you can pass the turnstile and go in.
[Sidenote: The Debate and the Debaters.]
We soon discovered that we were very fortunate in gaining admission
just when we did, as the greatest question of the whole year, and,
indeed, the greatest question that has been before the House for many
years, was up, viz., the Education Bill, the object of which is to put
the schools of England, for the support of which the whole population
is taxed, under the control, not of the representatives of the public,
but of the ritualistic clergy of the Church of England; and in the
course of this very afternoon nearly every prominent man in both of the
great political parties was drawn into the discussion. When we entered,
Sir William Vernon Harcourt, the veteran Liberal statesman, had the
floor. Among others who followed him on the same side of the House were
Mr. James Bryce, the well-known author of _The Holy Roman Empire_ and
_The American Commonwealth_, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, the leader
of the Liberal party in the House, and Mr. Lloyd George, who has made
the most active and brilliant opposition to this treacherous, sectarian
measure. The Irish Roman Catholics, who, of course, have voted steadily
and solidly with the Anglican High Churchmen for this iniquitous bill,
which strikes at the root of the fundamental republican principle of
public control of public funds, were represented in the debate by John
Dillon. Of the others who spoke in support of the bill, the two who
interested me most were Lord Hugh Cecil, the special patron of the
measure, and his gifted cousin, Mr. Arthur J. Balfour, the government
leader of the House. The former, who, I believe, is the son of the
veteran Prime Minister, Lord Salisbury, is a slender, pale, nervous
young man, who advocates very narrow views in very good language,
nervously pressing or wringing his slim fingers the while, and who is
the special champion of the ritualists and reactionaries. Far more able
and far more interesting in every way is his accomplished kinsman,
Mr. Balfour, who, a few days later, was appointed Prime Minister. He
is a tall, ruddy, handsome Scotchman, with a rare grace and charm of
manner, and an exceptional air of high breeding, who speaks in a manly,
straightforward way, with no trace of the bitterness, or even the heat
so common in political discussions. When one notes the clearness of his
mind, and the attractiveness of his address, it gives a keener edge
to the regret that such a man should be on the wrong side of a great
question like this. Mr. Balfour is well known to the sporting world as
a golf player, and to the reading world as the author of a thoughtful
book on _The Foundations of Religious Belief_.
It will interest the readers of this paper to know that he is a
Presbyterian, as Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, the leader of the
Opposition, also is. So that the leaders of both the great parties in
the House of Commons are Scotchmen and Presbyterians.
One of the interesting consequences of Great Britain's having a
Presbyterian Prime Minister is, that under their system of the union
of church and state, a Presbyterian will appoint the bishops and
archbishops of the Church of England to the vacancies of those offices
which occur during his premiership. This must be a very bitter pill for
the extreme High Churchmen.
[Sidenote: English and American Oratory.]
The failure of our arrangement with Sir James Campbell turned out to
be the result of a misunderstanding, so he courteously renewed it for
the following day, when his friend and fellow-member, Mr. Maxwell, who
is also a Scotch Presbyterian, met us at the door, in the absence of
Sir James, and, after showing us again everything of interest about the
Houses, including the restaurant, and the wide and spacious terrace,
running nearly the whole length of the building alongside the Thames,
where the members come, on fine afternoons, to drink their tea, ushered
us into seats "under the gallery" of the House, which are regarded as
the most desirable for visitors, since there the spectator is on a
level with the speakers.
The Education Bill was still under discussion, and we heard some good
speaking, but not so good as I have heard at Washington, and in the
Constitutional Convention at Richmond. The matter was generally good,
but the manner was in most cases constrained, if not hesitating, and
nearly all the members, including Mr. Balfour himself, have a habit
of grasping the lapels of their coats, "taking themselves in hand,"
as some one has described it. In short, the speaking itself lacks the
ease, freedom, fluency and force of our better American oratory.
However, it is only fair to give, before closing, the estimate of a
Canadian writer, who is familiar with both London and Washington, and
who says:
"The average of speaking is not so high in the House of Commons as
in Congress; but the level of the best speakers is higher. American
oratory almost always savors somewhat of the school of elocution, and
has the fatal drawback of being felt to aim at effect. The greatest
of English speakers, such as John Bright, the greatest of all, or
Gladstone, create no such impression; you feel that their only aim is
to produce conviction."
One of the most striking things about the House of Commons to the view
of an American visitor is the well-groomed appearance of the members.
They are invariably attired in faultless Prince Albert coats, often
with a boutonniere on the lapel, and they all wear silk hats, which, by
the way, they are not expected to take off during the sittings, except
when addressing the House. It is said to be the best-dressed assembly
in the world, and is in sharp contrast with the more democratic and
unconventional, not to say slovenly, mode of dressing which obtains in
our House of Representatives, where the ordinary costume is a long,
loose frock coat--sometimes even a sack--and a derby or felt hat.