The Sun.
London, England, 1867-02-08 00:00:00

The First Night of the Session.

O

The first night of the Session—in the House of
Commons--is thus described by a writer in the
Illustrated Weekly News :—The House of Commons
seems like an embodiment in stone of our Consti-
tution, the growth from Gothic ages down to the
latest improvements in gaslight and ventilation.. It
is rainy, and there arc not many people about ;
there is, however, a bustle in the octagon--there is
even confusion in the Commons' lobby, and the
policemen have something to do. That grand per-
sonage going in, wigged and robed, is Mr. Speaker.
Half-a-hundred nicinbers arc pre3ent to receive
him. They are in time for prayers, and so can
secure their seats for the entire evening, by sticking
their cards into little brass catches at the backs of
the comfortable green benches. Then entering we
face the power which rules two hundred millions, at
least, of human beings. The Conservative party being
in office, sit to the right of the Speaker's chair, and
the Liberals, being in dudgeon, to the left. A stray
Radical forgets this arrangement., and wends his
way, amid a tempest of cheers and laughter, which
he cannot comprehend, to his accustomed place, and
is only brought to reason by the countenance of a
gigantic Dorsetshire baronet.. But all goes well ;
the house is crowded ; the editors, leading-article
writers, and reporters, perched above the Speaker's
head, present as fine a show of intellectual faces
[ahem i] as the Treasury Bench or the front rank
of the Opposition itself ; faint but sweet odours
from the ladies' gallery behind them sustain
vitality, while the decorous dullne,,s of mover and
seconder of the Address are tolerated, and then
opens the drama of the session. Previously, of
course, the first fruits of the Parliamentary year
are gathered in the shape of petitions. They arc
mentioned, hurried up to the table, seized by the
clerk, crammed into a bag, and in ninety-nine in-
stances out of a thousand never heard of more.
And new members are sworn in. But business is
going to begin. The nobodies have given notice of
motions for future days. The address to the Crown
has been moved by a nervous gentleman in a scarlet
coat, with gold epaulettes, and a crimson sash. It
has been seconded by another " gorgeous insect,"
also in a crimson sash, gold epaulettes, and
scarlet coat. And now the leader of the Opposition
rises. Mr. Gladstone is a favourite of the house,
and cheered from all sides. He looks solemn, and
even melancholy ; he poises himself, as if for an
effort ; he points his finger ; he alternately bends and
raises his head ; he explains what he is going to say,
before he has said it, with such a copiousness of
words, that you are almost ashamed not understand
it by instinct without inflicting so much trouble on
so gentlemanly and considerate a person. But there
is a point in whatever he utters, and it is felt as a
sting, too, usually. The Secretary of the Treasury,
always an untired and pleasant but restless indivi-
dual, whispered to the Chancellor of the Exchequer
while Mr. Gladstone finished. Mr. Disraeli only
nodded ; he felt quite prepared, and he was so. A
few sentences delivered in his rich, sonorous, flexible,
and emphatic voice, and he laid aside, so to speak,
the doubts suggested by the Opposition leader ; he
did not dispose of them, he merely docketted them
for further consideration. So adroitly was this
done that not a member of the house had another
word to say. There was not even the semblance of
a debate to draggle on with until the ringing of the
dinner bell.