The Mother of Parliaments Part 7

Adjoining the Painted Chamber was the room in which the Peers formerly met and sat, and which may therefore be styled the old House of Lords.

The Prince's Chamber, afterwards the Robing Room of the Lords, was decorated with elaborate tapestries, of Dutch workmans.h.i.+p, representing the destruction of the Spanish Armada, which had been presented to Queen Elizabeth by the States of Holland, and subsequently sold by Lord Howard to James I. These tapestries were afterwards transferred to the Court of Requests, and, when the greater part of the Palace of Westminster was destroyed by fire in October, 1834, perished in the flames.

It was proposed, in 1834, to find temporary quarters for the Court of Bankruptcy in the old tally-room of the exchequer. For this purpose it became necessary to remove several cartloads of old "tallies" which had acc.u.mulated during past years and were likely to interfere with the arrangements. These tallies were nothing but pieces of wood on which were recorded by a primitive method of notches the sums paid into the exchequer. The system dated from the Conquest and, though it had been officially abolished in 1783, was still in use as late as 1826. Old tallies were usually burnt on bonfires in Tothill fields or in Palace Yard, but in 1834 some official of an economical turn of mind decided to make use of them as fuel for the stoves of the House of Lords. The workmen engaged upon the work shared with all honest British labourers the desire to finish their job as quickly as possible and get home to their tea. They consequently piled the tallies into the stoves with more energy than discretion, little dreaming of the possible effect upon the overheated furnaces.

At four o'clock in the afternoon of the 16th of October, some visitors who were being shown round the House of Lords observed that the floor was very hot under their feet, and that the Chamber seemed to be half filled with smoke. They were rea.s.sured by the officials, and no further notice was taken of their remarks. Two hours later the tallies had done their work, the flues were red-hot, one of the walls was well alight, and flames were seen to be issuing from the windows of the House. The alarm was immediately given. Fire-engines were hastily summoned to the scene, and police and troops a.s.sembled in force in Palace Yard.

The appliances for coping with any but the mildest of conflagrations were then altogether inadequate, and it soon became evident that most of the Palace was doomed. Vast crowds had meanwhile gathered to witness the destruction of the parliament building, while peers and members hastened to Westminster to a.s.sist in the work of salvage.

Hume, who had so often tried to obtain for the Commons a Chamber more suitable to their needs, was one of the first to arrive, and did yeoman service in saving the contents of the House of Commons Library.[112] He was chaffingly accused of being the author of the fire, and, as the ancient home of the Commons rose in smoke to the sky, his friends declared that his motion for a new House was being "carried without a division." Lord Althorp, another interested spectator, cared even less for the preservation of St. Stephen's Chapel than did Hume. "D---- the House of Commons!" he cried, "Save, oh, save the Hall!"[113] His wish was gratified, and Westminster Hall, together with the old House of Lords and the Painted Chamber, was among the few buildings s.n.a.t.c.hed from the flames. St. Stephen's Crypt, situated underneath the old House of Commons, survived not only the fire, but also the subsequent rebuilding.

[112] A comparatively modern inst.i.tution which did not exist until the year 1818.

[113] Miss Martineau's "History of the Peace," vol. iii. p. 147.

When the flames had at last been extinguished, or had died down from sheer lack of fuel, and the extent of the damage had been ascertained, Parliament a.s.sembled once more--the Lords in what remained of their library, the Commons in one of the surviving committee rooms. It was then decided temporarily to fit up the old House of Lords for the use of the Commons, and to relegate the Peers to the Painted Chamber, until steps could be taken to provide the Great Council of the nation with a more suitable home.

In the following year, British architects were invited to submit designs for the new Houses of Parliament, which it was proposed to erect on the site of the old Palace of Westminster, and, in 1836, the design of Charles Barry was selected from some ninety-seven others.

With as little delay as possible the work was put into the hands of the successful compet.i.tor, and on April, 27, 1840, the first stone was laid without ceremony by the architect's wife.

From that moment until the completion of the building, poor Barry's life was made a burden to him by the continual petty interference of the authorities. Perpetual squabbles arose between the architect and the superintending officials over every point of the construction--even the contract for the manufacture of the clock gave rise to an acrimonious controversy--while the question of expense was a never ending source of worry and difficulty.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE REMAINS OF ST. STEPHEN'S CHAPEL AFTER THE FIRE OF 1834

FROM A LITHOGRAPH AFTER THE DRAWING BY JOHN TAYLOR, JR.]

Barry's original design had included the enclosing of New Palace Yard, and the building of a huge gate-tower at the angles. He had also proposed to make Victoria Tower the chief feature of a big quadrangle, whence a splendid processional approach should extend to Buckingham Palace. The cost of such a scheme, however, precluded its execution, and the architect had to content himself with the present magnificent group of buildings, too well known to require detailed description, which form the best possible memorial to Sir Charles Barry's genius.[114]

[114] Barry was a.s.sisted in his work by another well-known artist, Augustus Welby Pugin. The latter's son afterwards claimed for his father the honour of being the real designer of the Houses of Parliament, but his efforts to wrest the laurels from Barry's brow met with little success.

In 1852 Queen Victoria entered the new Houses of Parliament for the first time, and some eight years later the whole building was completed.

The fire of 1834 proved a blessing in disguise. The ancient congeries of huddled buildings, to which additions had been made in various styles by so many kings, and which went by the name of the Palace of Westminster, had long ceased to provide a suitable home for the Mother of Parliaments. From the ashes of the royal residence arose at length a structure worthy to rank with any legislative building in the world, and adequate to the requirements of that national council which controls the destiny of the British Empire.

Towering above both Houses stands the lofty clock-tower which is one of the landmarks of the metropolis. From its summit "Big Ben"--the successor to "Great Tom of Westminster"--booms forth the hours, while still higher burns that nightly light which shows to a sleeping city that the faithful Commons remain vigilant and at work.[115]

[115] Big Ben was so named after Sir Benjamin Hall, First Commissioner of Works. The light is extinguished by an official in the House of Commons by means of an electric switch, the moment the Speaker's question "that the House do now adjourn" has been agreed to.

The new Upper Chamber, with its harmonious decorations of gilt and stained gla.s.s, its crimson benches, and its atmosphere of dignity and repose, supplies a perfect stage for the leisurely deliberations of our hereditary legislators, and forms a becoming background for such picturesque pageants as the Opening of Parliament.

The present House of Commons, though too small to accommodate a full a.s.semblage of its members, makes up in comfort for what it may lack in s.p.a.ce. The Chamber is illuminated by a strong light from the gla.s.s roof above; the green benches are cus.h.i.+oned and comfortable. At one end is the Speaker's chair, and in front of it the table--that "substantial piece of furniture," as Disraeli called it, when he thanked Providence that its bulk was interposed between Mr. Gladstone and himself--upon which Sir Robert Peel used to strike resonant blows at regular two-minute intervals during his speeches. On this table lies the heavy despatch-box which countless Premiers have thumped, and which still bears the impress of Gladstone's signet ring. Here, too, reposes the mace, that ancient symbol of the royal authority.

The mace is, perhaps, the most important article of furniture--if it can be so described--in the House. Its absence or loss is an even more appalling catastrophe than would be the absence of the Speaker. It is possible to provide a subst.i.tute for the latter, but there is no deputy-mace, and without it the House cannot be held to be properly const.i.tuted. The present mace is engraved with the initials "C. R."

and the royal arms, and is the one that was made at the Restoration, to replace Cromwell's "bauble," which disappeared with the Crown plate in 1649. It is kept at the Tower of London when the House is not sitting, and the fact that its absence prevents the conduct of any business has been, on one occasion at least, the cause of grave inconvenience. In the middle of the last century Parliament adjourned for the day in order to attend a great naval review at Spithead, and was timed to meet again at 10 p.m. The special return-train containing members of the House of Commons was run in two portions, and the official who held the key of the mace-cupboard happened to be travelling in the second. As this was an hour late in arriving, the House had to postpone its meeting until eleven at night.[116]

[116] Mowbray's "Seventy Years at Westminster," p. 90.

Upon the position of the mace a great deal depends. When the mace lies _upon_ the table, says Hatsell, the House is a House; "when _under_, it is a Committee. When _out_ of the House, no business can be done; when _from_ the table and upon the Sergeant's shoulder, the Speaker alone manages." On the famous occasion in 1626, when Sir John Eliot offered a remonstrance against "tonnage and poundage," when Speaker Finch refused to put the question, and the House almost came to blows, Sergeant-at-Arms Edward Grimston tried to close the sitting by removing the mace. At once a fiery member, Sir Miles Hobart, seized it from him, replaced it on the table, locked the door of the House, and put the key in his pocket, thus excluding Black Rod, who was on his way to the Commons with a message from the king.

The Sergeant-at-Arms is custodian of the mace. Attired in his tight-fitting black coat, knee-breeches, and buckled shoes, with his sword at his side, he carries it ceremoniously upon his shoulder whenever he accompanies the Speaker in or out of the Chamber. He is also, as we shall see, responsible for the maintenance of order within the precincts of the House, and is provided with a chair near the Bar, whence he can obtain a good view of the whole Chamber.

The arrangements made for the convenience and personal comfort of a modern legislator are of the most elaborate and thoughtful kind.

Members of the Government, Whips, and the Leader of the Opposition are provided with private rooms in which to do their work. The needs of humbler politicians are no less carefully considered. By means of an intricate system of ventilation the atmosphere of both Houses is maintained at an equable temperature, summer and winter. The very air inhaled by our politicians is so cleansed and rarefied by a system of water-sprays, of cotton-wool screens and ice-chambers, that it reaches their lungs in a filtered condition, free from all those impurities of dust and fog which are part of the less-favoured Londoner's daily pabulum.

The statesman who seeks a momentary relaxation from the arduous duties of the Chamber can find repose in comfortable smoking-rooms where easy-chairs abound. He may stroll upon the Terrace in the cool of the evening, enjoying the society of such lady friends as he may have invited to tea, and watching the stately procession of barges and steamers that flows by him. (Occasionally the barges are loaded with unsavoury refuse, of which his scandalized nostrils are made unpleasantly aware. Sometimes, too, some wag in a pa.s.sing excursion-boat facetiously bids him return to his work in the House.) Heated by an unusually warm debate, or tired out by a lengthy sitting, he may retire to spend a pleasant half-hour in luxurious bathrooms, whence division bells summon him in vain. His intellectual wants are ministered to in well-furnished libraries, whose courteous custodians are ever ready to impart information, to look up parliamentary precedents, and otherwise to add to his store of knowledge. His inner man is generously catered for by a Kitchen Committee, composed of the gourmets of the House, who choose his wine and cigars, and watch over the cooking of his food with a vigilant and fastidious eye. His meals are appetising and at the same time inexpensive, and, as he sits in the s.p.a.cious dining-rooms set apart for his use, his mind may travel back with kindly scorn to the days when his political ancestors drank their cups of soup at Alice's coffee-house, munched the homely fare supplied in Bellamy's kitchen, or satisfied their hunger in even simpler fas.h.i.+on on the benches of the House itself. Lord Morpeth, who was a Minister of the Crown in 1840, used always to suck oranges on the Treasury bench during the course of his own speeches. Fox ate innumerable dry biscuits on the hottest nights. David Hume, whose devotion to duty prevented him from leaving his seat in the Chamber, was in the habit of providing himself with a generous supply of pears, which he consumed while his less conscientious colleagues were slaking their thirst in Bellamy's finest port.[117] During a twenty-one hours'

sitting in August, 1880, a member (Mr. A. M. Sullivan) brought a large bag of buns into the House, and enjoyed what Mr. Labouchere called "a palpable supper."[118] The sight of a member of Parliament enjoying an _al fresco_ meal under the eye of the Speaker would to-day arouse indignant shouts of "Order!" Even the simple sandwich is taboo in the Chamber of either House, and nothing more solid or more potent than a gla.s.s of pure well-water, or perhaps an egg-flip, can be partaken of during debate.

[117] Francis' "Orators of the Age," p. 212, and Grant's "Random collections," p. 7.

[118] T. P. O'Connor's "Gladstone's House of Commons," p. 88.

Could Pitt return to the scene of his former triumphs, he would indeed marvel at the splendours of the modern parliamentary restaurant--Pitt, whose thoughts even upon his deathbed are said to have reverted lovingly to the delights of the old House of Commons kitchen. "I think I could eat one of Bellamy's pork pies" were the great statesman's last words as he expired at Putney in January, 1806, and it was no doubt at Bellamy's humble board that he drank many a bottle of that wine for which he entertained so strong a predilection.

Pearson, the famous doorkeeper of the House of Commons, has described Bellamy's as "a d.a.m.n'd good house, upstairs, where I have drank many a pipe of red port. Here the members, who cannot say more than 'Yes' or 'No' below, can speechify for hours to Mother Bellamy about beef-steaks and pork-chops. Sir Watkin Lewes always dresses them there himself; and I'll be curst if he ben't a choice hand at a beef-steak and a bottle, as well as a pot and a pipe."[119]

[119] Pearson's "Political Dictionary," p. 19.

d.i.c.kens, in his "Sketches by Boz," has left a picture of that old-fas.h.i.+oned eating-room, with the large open fire, the roasting-jack, the gridiron, the deal tables and wax candles, the damask linen cloths, and the bare floor, where peers and members of Parliament a.s.sembled with their friends[120] to sit over their modest meals until it was time for a division, or, as Sheil says, "the whipper-in aroused them to the only purpose for which their existence was recognized."

[120] "25 April, 1822. Eat cold meat at Bellamy's (introduced by Lambton); and did not leave the House till near two."--Thomas Moore's "Memoirs," vol. iii. p. 346.

Old Bellamy, a wine-merchant by profession, was in 1773 appointed Deputy-Housekeeper to the House of Commons, and provided with a kitchen, a dining-room, and a small subsidy to cover his expenses as parliamentary caterer. After nearly forty years' service in this capacity he was succeeded by his son John, who continued to control the culinary department until well into the last century. Refreshments of a serious kind were not really required by politicians until the days when Parliament took to sitting late at night. In 1848, however, Bellamy's system of supplying members with food was not considered sufficiently adequate, and a select committee was appointed to inquire into it. As soon as Parliament rea.s.sembled in the new Palace of Westminster, after the fire, the catering of the House of Commons was taken over by a Kitchen Committee, while that of the Lords was placed in the hands of a contractor.

In the days of the Bellamys the charges for solid refreshments were not really high--the caterer relied very largely for his profits upon the sale of wine--but in comparison with the tariff of to-day they must appear exorbitant. For half-a-crown Bellamy provided his patrons with a meal consisting of cold meat, bread and cheese; double that sum secured a liberal dinner, which included tart and a salad. Claret cost 10s. a bottle, while a similar quant.i.ty of port and madeira was to be had for 6_s._ or 8_s._ To-day a member of Parliament can be supplied with a dinner of several courses for the modest sum of 1_s._, and every item on the daily bill of fare is proportionately inexpensive.

Bellamy's was not only the eating-place of Parliament; it also partook of some of the qualities of the modern smoking-room as a refuge from debate. The sudden concourse of members who came hurrying into the kitchen as soon as a bore rose to his feet in the House has been amusingly described by Sheil in his essay on John Leslie Foster. Poor Mr. Foster seems to have exercised an extraordinarily clearing effect upon the House. The first words of his speech were the signal for a unanimous excursion of his fellows, and he was left in full possession of that solitude which he ever had the unrivalled power of creating.

Members hastened to the kitchen where the tiresome voice of the parliamentary bore could not penetrate, and there indulged themselves in conversation, eked out with tea or stronger beverages. "The scene which Bellamy's presents to a stranger is striking enough," says Sheil. "Two smart girls, whose briskness and neat attire made up for their want of beauty, and for the invasions of time, of which their cheeks showed the traces, helped out tea in a room in the corridor. It was pleasant to observe the sons of dukes and marquises, and the possessors of twenties and thirties of thousands a year, gathered round these damsels, and soliciting a cup of that beverage which it was their office to administer. These Bellamy barmaids seemed so familiarized with their occupation that they went through it with perfect nonchalance, and would occasionally turn with petulance, in which they a.s.serted the superiority of their s.e.x to rank and opulence, from the n.o.ble or wealthy suitors for a draught of tea, by whom they were surrounded." The unfortunate Irish members, we are told, were regarded with a peculiar disdain, being continually reminded of their provinciality by the scornful looks of these parliamentary Hebes, who treated them "as mere colonial deputies should be received in the purlieus of the State." d.i.c.kens, too, describes how one of the waitresses, Jane by name, who was something of a character, would playfully dig the handle of a fork into the arm of some too amorous member who sought to detain her.[121] "I pa.s.sed from these ante-chambers to the tavern," continues Sheil, "where I found a number of members a.s.sembled at dinner. Half an hour had pa.s.sed away, tooth-picks and claret were now beginning to appear, and the business of mastication being concluded, that of digestion had commenced, and many an honourable gentleman, I observed, seemed to prove that he was born only to digest. At the end of a long corridor which opened from the room where the diners were a.s.sembled, there stood a waiter, whose office it was to inform any interrogator what gentleman was speaking below stairs. Nearly opposite the door sat two English county members.

They had disposed of a bottle each, and just as the last gla.s.s was emptied, one of them called out to the annunciator at the end of the pa.s.sage for intelligence. 'Mr. Foster on his legs,' was the formidable answer. 'Waiter, bring another bottle!' was the immediate effect of this information, which was followed by a similar injunction from every table in the room. I perceived that Mr. Bellamy owed great obligations to Mr. Foster. But the latter did not limit himself to a second bottle; again and again the same question was asked, and again the same announcement was returned--'Mr. Foster upon his legs!' The answer seemed to fasten men in inseparable adhesiveness to their seats. Thus hours went by, when, at length, 'Mr. Plunket on his legs!'

was heard from the end of the pa.s.sage, and the whole convocation of compotators rose together and returned to the House."[122]

[121] "Sketches by Boz," p. 109 (1855).

[122] Sheil's "Sketches of the Irish Bar," vol. ii. p. 236.

Alas! Bellamy's roaring fire is long extinguished, his candles have burnt down to their sockets, and been replaced by electric light. The comfortable days of lengthy dinners are past and gone, and the modern member has barely time to s.n.a.t.c.h a hasty meal in the Commons'

dining-room ere he returns to the bustle and confusion of the House.

Things have indeed changed since the leisurely days when Bellamy could adequately cater for the needs of Parliament. His small staff and humble kitchen would have but little chance of satisfying modern requirements in an age when over a hundred thousand meals are served to members and their friends in the course of a single session.

CHAPTER V

HIS MAJESTY'S SERVANTS

Parliament is not an administrative body. Summoned by the Crown, with its a.s.sent it pa.s.ses laws, gives and takes away rights, authorises and directs taxation and expenditure; but in executive business the Crown acts through Ministers who are not appointed by Parliament, though undoubtedly responsible to it for their conduct.

Alfred the Great called together Councils, which in some ways resembled our present Cabinets or the Privy Council, to consider such measures as were afterwards submitted to the Witenagemot. In William the Conqueror's time the _Curia Regis_ was the Great Council which he consulted on questions of State policy. Later on, in Henry I.'s reign, the King formed a smaller consultative body from the royal household, whose duty it was to deal with administrative details, legislation being left in the hands of the National Council.