PARLIAMENT AT WORK--(1)
In their efforts to grapple successfully with the ever-increasing mass
of business brought before them, modern Parliaments show a tendency to
prolong their labours to an ever-increasing extent. Each succeeding
session lengthens, as Macaulay said, "like a human hair in the mouth."
In Tudor times the statutes to be passed were few in number, and the
time occupied in legislation was consequently short. Members returned
by "rotten" boroughs had no temptation to be prolix; their seats did
not depend upon their parliamentary exertions, and their speeches were
therefore commendably brief. Parliament to-day is often censured for
the sterility of its legislative output, but during the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries legislation in the modern sense of the word
scarcely existed at all. Its time was chiefly spent in the discussion
of libellous books and in disputes over constitutional questions of
privilege.
October and November were the months fixed for the meeting of
Parliament in Hanoverian times, and the prorogation usually took place
in April. From 1805 to 1820 it met after Christmas. Since 1820
February has been the month generally chosen. Nowadays, not only have
the sessions grown much longer--even the feast of St. Grouse on the
12th of August is no longer observed by politicians--but the hours of
each sitting have been considerably extended. The session of 1847 was
prolonged over 293 days; the Parliament of 1852 met on November 4 and
sat until August 20 of the following year, and during the last two
months of that session the House of Commons continued sitting for
fifteen out of every twenty-four hours. In 1908, which contained two
sessions, the House sat for 253 days, and the session of 1909 lasted
from February 16 till December 3, during the latter weeks of which
all-night sittings were of the commonest occurrence.
In proportion as the daily labours of the Legislature increased the
hour for commencing work became later and later. In Charles I.'s time
Parliament often met as early as 7 a.m., and would sit until twelve,
the afternoon being devoted to the work of the committees.[371] Later
on the hour of meeting was fixed for 8 or 9 a.m., and the House
usually rose at 4 p.m., or earlier. The Commons always showed the
strongest disinclination to sit in the afternoon, either because the
midday meal did not leave them in a fit condition to legislate, or
because no regular provision was made for lighting the House when
twilight fell. "This council is a grave council and sober," said a
member in 1659, and "ought not to do things in the dark," and the
Speaker would occasionally regard his inability to distinguish one
member from another as a sufficient excuse for adjourning the
House.[372] The practice of sitting regularly after dark did not
commence until the year 1717, when, by an order of the House, the
Sergeant-at-Arms was directed to bring in candles as soon as daylight
failed. Prior to that year the employment of artificial light had to
be made the subject of a special motion, and Sergeants were sometimes
reprimanded for providing candles without the necessary order.
[371] On Sunday, August 8, 1641, both Houses attended divine service
at St. Margaret's Church at 6 a.m., after which they sat in the House
all the morning, and in the afternoon the King met them in the
banqueting room at Whitehall. "Duirnall Occurrences," p. 80.
[372] Forster's "Grand Remonstrance," p. 342.
During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries the hours of sitting
varied from time to time. Up to 1888 the House of Commons sat from 10
a.m. until 3.45 p.m. In that year the time for meeting was fixed at 3
p.m. and this was subsequently postponed for an hour.
Saturday and Sunday have long been recognised as regular parliamentary
holidays, and on one other day in the week--either a Wednesday or
Friday--the House of Commons has adjourned at an earlier hour than
usual. This, however, was not always the case. In Stuart times
Parliament sometimes sat on Sunday and even on Christmas Day,[373] and
it was on a Sunday--December 18, 1831--that the Reform Bill was read a
second time. This, however, was an exceptional instance, the
adjournment over Saturday having been initiated by Sir Robert Walpole,
who, as a keen sportsman, was always anxious to get away to the
country, and believed that, as Dryden says, it were:
"Better to hunt in fields for health unbought,
Than fee the doctor for his noxious draught."
[373] Elsynge's "Ancient Method of Holding Parliaments," pp. 114-115.
In more recent times it became the fashion to adjourn the House on
Derby Day, in order to allow legislators to take part in the sport of
kings. In 1872, this adjournment was made the subject of a heated
debate, and though the division that ensued resulted in a large
majority for the holiday-makers, the claims of sport gradually gave
way to the more pressing demands of business, and ten years later,
when the Prevention of Crimes (Ireland) Act was under discussion, the
matter was considered too serious to allow of the usual Derby Day
adjournment. The late Sir Wilfrid Lawson once cynically argued that if
the Derby Day became a recognised official holiday the Speaker of the
House of Commons ought to go to Epsom in his State-coach, "as he did
at the thanksgiving for the Prince of Wales's recovery." The game of
politics is nowadays treated more gravely than ever, and the most
frivolous of modern politicians would scarcely dream of suggesting
that the stern business of Westminster should be deserted for the
pleasures of Epsom Downs. The House of Lords has always, until a year
or two ago, adjourned over Ash Wednesday and Ascension Day, on the
ground that if they met they would be taken to Church at the Abbey;
but lately they have braved this terror and nothing so serious has
happened.
Prior to 1882 the House of Lords met at five o'clock in the afternoon;
they now meet three-quarters of an hour earlier.[374] Except under
circumstances of special pressure they take holidays on Friday and
Saturday, and Sunday is, of course, for them, as for everybody else, a
day of complete rest. Occasionally on other days the amount of work to
be undertaken in the Upper House is so small as to be accomplished in
a few minutes. The Lords, as has been irreverently observed, often sit
scarcely long enough to boil an egg, and it is only towards the end of
the session that they are compelled to extend their deliberations
beyond the dinner-hour.[375]
[374] The judicial sittings of the House begin at 10.30 a.m.
[375] The proceedings very often resemble those of the old Irish House
of Lords, which we find recorded in the Journals as "Prayers. Ordered,
that the Judges be covered. Adjourned." See Charlemont's "Memoirs,"
vol. i. p. 103.
The labours of the Commons are more arduous, and entail longer hours
of sitting. On Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday the House
meets at 2.45 p.m. and continues sitting until 11 p.m., unless the
day's business has been disposed of before that hour. At eleven
o'clock the Speaker interrupts business, after which no opposed matter
can be dealt with, but, by a Standing Order, it is permissible for a
Minister of the Crown, at the commencement of the day's work, to move
the suspension of the eleven o'clock rule. In this case no
interruption takes place until the business under discussion is
finished.
All-night sittings are not uncommon nowadays, but in former times they
occurred but rarely. In 1742, the Speaker once sat in the Chair for
seventeen hours at a stretch, and some fifty years later we find the
Commons keeping an occasional all-night vigil. Sir Samuel Romilly left
the House one evening to go to bed, and returned the next morning to
find his colleagues still sitting. He began his speech by saying that
he made no apology for rising to address the House at such a time, as
seven o'clock was his usual hour for "getting up."[376] In 1877, the
Commons sat for a day and night, and again in 1881, the sitting on the
latter occasion lasting forty-one hours; and since that day many
sittings have been prolonged over the twenty-four hours. In 1909, the
House sat after 1 a.m. o'clock on no less than thirty-seven occasions,
after 4 a.m. on ten occasions, and once as late as nine o'clock in the
morning.
[376] Palgrave's "House of Commons," p. 45.
Friday is, so to speak, a half-holiday for the Commons. On that day
the House meets at noon, the interruption of business occurs at five
o'clock, and, no matter what subject is under discussion, the House
adjourns at 5.30 p.m. Before 1902, Wednesday was the day chosen for
the short sitting, but the desire of many members to escape from
London at the end of the week led to a change, and it is now possible
for representatives from the most distant parts of England to pay
flying weekly visits to their homes or constituencies.
For a few years recently the House of Commons always enjoyed an
evening interval for dinner, but this agreeable adjournment was
reluctantly sacrificed in 1906, and the "Speaker's chop" is now
nothing but a fragrant memory. The dinner-hour is much too precious to
be wasted at any table other than that of the House, for at 8.15 on
many days any private business not disposed of at the beginning of the
sitting is given precedence of all else, and what is known as
"opposed" private business is also taken between that hour and 9.30
p.m.[377]
[377] The fact of any single member taking objection to a motion is
sufficient to include it among "opposed" business, and in an assembly
of partisans it would be too much to expect that any private member's
Bill should avoid giving grounds of objection to at least one
opponent.
For the information of members a daily "notice paper" is published in
two editions--a blue edition in the morning, and a white one in the
early afternoon--containing the orders of the day and all notices of
motions. To this is attached the "votes and proceedings," division
lists, and an account of the business accomplished at the last
sitting. In the "order book" of the House, also published daily, is a
list of all future business definitely assigned to any particular
sitting; while once a week a catalogue of all Public Bills that have
been introduced, and some report of their progress, is also included.
By no means the least arduous of the many labours of Parliament are
those which are undertaken by legislators serving upon the various
Committees, of which the public knows so little, but whose work is
very necessary to the carrying on of public business.
The appointment of Select Committees in both Houses has been practised
ever since the earliest days of Parliament. The duties of these
subsidiary bodies, which may be appointed for any purpose, are
prescribed by the terms of the reference: they may collect facts for
future legislation, investigate conduct, or examine the terms of a
Bill referred to them, thus saving the time of the House. To them go
all opposed Private Bills, when counsel appear to argue the merits of
clashing interests.
The system of Committees perhaps originated in the conferences held in
former times by the two Houses in the Painted Chamber. There are
records of small deliberative bodies, somewhat similar in character to
the modern Committees, in the middle of the sixteenth century. By the
time Queen Elizabeth came to the throne such Committees were common,
and were usually composed of members of one or other House. Select
Committees did not exist until the eighteenth century, and were
originally semi-judicial in character.
All members of the House of Commons are subject to be called upon to
serve on Select Committees, being chosen for the purpose by a
Committee of Selection, and the work thus done outside the actual
Chamber adds considerably to the daily labours of politicians. No
member may refuse to serve, if called upon to do so, and when, in
1846, Mr. Smith O'Brien declined to sit on an English Railway
Committee, he was confined in the Clock Tower in the custody of the
Sergeant-at-Arms.
The whole House can also resolve itself at any time into a Committee,
when its function becomes one of "deliberation rather than
inquiry."[378] Every Public Bill not referred to a Grand Committee
must be considered in a Committee of the Whole House, and, indeed, the
greater part of each session is occupied by this stage of legislation.
The Committee of Supply and the Committee of Ways and Means are both
"Committees of the Whole House," and are appointed to discuss the
financial projects of the Government, the one to supervise
expenditure, the other to devise taxation.
[378] May, p. 430.
A Committee of the Whole House differs in no respect from the House
itself, save that it is presided over by a chairman in place of the
Speaker, and that the mace is removed from the Table. There are also
some changes in the procedure of debate, as, for example, the
cancelling of the rule forbidding a member to speak twice on the same
question.
The idea of forming the House itself into a committee has developed,
like so many parliamentary institutions, gradually and almost
unconsciously. In days when the Speaker was too often the spy of the
King it was considered advisable to get rid of him, and this could
best be done by turning the House into a Committee and putting some
other member in the Chair.
The Chairman of Committees in the Lords, and the Chairman of Ways and
Means, or his deputy, in the Commons, takes the Chair when the House
is in Committee, but it is permissible for either House to nominate
any one of their number as a temporary Chairman.[379]
[379] In 1641, during the Long Parliament, Hyde was appointed Chairman
of Committees, so as to get him out of the way, that he might not
obstruct business by too much speaking. Parry's "Parliaments of
England," p. 354.
As a substitute for Committees of the Whole House in the Commons, two
large Standing Committees, sometimes called Grand Committees,
numbering from sixty to eighty members, are appointed to consider
respectively all Bills relating to Law and Trade committed to them by
the House. Besides the smaller committees already referred to there
are Sessional Committees, appointed for each session, consisting of
from eight to twelve members--as, for instance, the committee on
Public Accounts, which meets once a week to look into the department
of the Auditor-General--which control the internal arrangements of the
House; and joint Committees of the two Houses, which discuss matters
in which both are interested.
In the Lords also Standing Committees were instituted in 1889, but
these were to supplement and not supersede the Whole House Committee
stage, and after an experience of more than twenty years have proved
their insufficient utility, they were abolished on June 24, 1910.
In the sixteenth century committees generally met outside the House,
in the Star Chamber, in Lincoln's Inn, or elsewhere, but they have not
done so for many years, numerous committee-rooms being nowadays
provided within the precincts of the House.
At the commencement of every session the House of Lords elects a
Chairman of Committees from among its own members. His duty it is to
preside over Committees of the Whole House, or over Select Committees
on whom the power of appointing their own Chairman is not expressly
conferred. He is a salaried official of Parliament, and receives a sum
of £2500 a year for his services. Similar duties are undertaken in the
House of Commons by a Chairman of Committees and a Deputy Chairman, at
salaries of £2500 and £1000 respectively.
The Crown usually appoints by commission one or more Lords to supply
the place of Lord Chancellor, should that official be unavoidably
absent. On emergency it may be moved that any lord present may be
appointed temporarily to sit Speaker. In the House of Commons the
Chairman of Ways and Means and the Deputy Chairman are similarly
empowered to replace the Speaker when absent.
The problem of providing a substitute for the Speaker was not settled
until 1855, prior to which date no steps seem to have been taken to
fill the Chair in the event of a Speaker's sudden illness or absence.
It appears to have been considered inadvisable to frame any scheme of
relief which should facilitate his frequent absence. It was, further,
the general sense of the House that no temporary president could
command that implicit acquiescence in the rulings of the Chair which
is so necessary for the maintenance of order in debate.
To the Chairman of Committees, whom one would regard as a natural
substitute for the Speaker, the House has never been willing to accord
the complete consideration to which the Chair is entitled; the fact
that he is liable at any moment to sink again into the body of the
House robs this official of much of his authority. In the reign of
James I. we find a Chairman complaining that some member had
threatened to "pull him out of the Chair, that he should put no more
tricks upon the House." And in 1810 another member, Fuller by name,
who had lost the Chairman's eye and his own temper, called that
official a "d---- insignificant puppy," and said that he didn't care a
snap of the fingers for him or for the House either.[380]
[380] Lytton's "Life of Palmerston," vol. i. p. 115.
The question of replacing the Speaker has, therefore, always been a
delicate one, and for many years no attempt was made to solve it. In
1656, owing to the illness of Sir Thomas Widdrington, another member
occupied the Chair for a period of a few weeks, and, during the next
few years, several Speakers complained of ill-health and were
temporarily relieved. From 1547, when the Journals commence, to 1660,
the Speaker was only absent on twelve occasions, and during the next
hundred years the records of the House show only six cases of absence.
The inconvenience caused by the rule which necessitated an
adjournment on such occasions--curiously few in number though they
were--can readily be imagined. On the death of Queen Anne, in 1714,
the whole proceedings of Parliament were delayed, and the sittings
postponed from day to day owing to the Speaker being away in the
country and taking a long time to travel to London. The duty of being
ever in his place at times involved great hardships. Addington was
obliged to take the Chair three days after the death of his father,
persevering by a painful effort in this stern adherence to the path of
duty.[381]
[381] Pellew's "Life of Sidmouth," vol. i. p. 76.
In the year 1640, a prolonged session was the cause of many members
absenting themselves from their places in the House of Commons. In
order to ensure a more general attendance it was then determined that
the Speaker should not take the Chair unless there were at least forty
members present in the House. This rule still holds good, and to-day,
if a quorum of forty is not obtainable before four o'clock, the
sitting is suspended until that hour. Should the same difficulty arise
after four o'clock, the House is adjourned until the next sitting
day.[382] An exception is made in favour of the hour between 8.15 and
9.15, but if a division be taken during that hour in the absence of a
quorum, the business in debate must be postponed and the next business
brought on. When, too, a message from the Crown is delivered, the
House of Commons is held to be "made" even though forty members are
not present. On such an occasion the business of the day can be
proceeded with so long as no notice is taken of the absence of a
quorum.
[382] The right of "counting out" the House was not exercised until
1729. On May 19, 1876, the Commons failed to "make the House" for the
first time since April 4, 1865. See Irving's "Annals of Our Time,"
vol. ii. p. 197.
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]
[383] Pearson's "Political Dictionary," pp. 23-4.
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.
[384] "The Manner of Holding Parliaments Prior to the Reign of Queen
Elizabeth." "Somers Tract," p. 12.
[385] "Diurnall Occurrences," p. 8.
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.
[386] In 1909, during the temporary absence of the Chaplain, the
Speaker read prayers himself.
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.
[387] "Parl. Hist." ii. 1072. Butler refers to them in "Hudibras":
"The oyster women lock'd their fish up,
And trudg'd away to cry 'No Bishop!'"
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]
[388] Noorthouck's "A New History of London," p. 180. Scenes of a
similar character occurred in the reign of George III., when the
Gordon rioters stormed the Houses of Parliament, shouting "No Popery!"
In 1871, a mob of matchmakers marched to Westminster to protest
against a tax on matches, and were dispersed by the police. In still
more recent times female deputations in favour of Woman's Suffrage,
accompanied by a mob of inquisitive sightseers and a section of the
criminal classes, have besieged the Palace of Westminster in a vain
attempt to gain admittance to the House of Commons.
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]
[389] When during Garibaldi's visit to London, some one suggested that
he should marry a wealthy widow with whom he spent much of his time it
was objected that he already had a wife living. "Never mind," said a
wag, "we will get Gladstone to explain her away!"
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]
[390] Palgrave's "House of Commons," p. 41.
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.
[391] Bagehot's "English Constitution," p. 181.
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]
[392] "Edinburgh Review," January, 1854, p. 254.
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.