University of Virginia Library

LETTER V.
The British House of Commons.

THROUGH the politeness of a friend,
I was yesterday admitted to the gallery
of the British house of commons. Never
were a man's expectations higher raised.
To see the grave fathers of the senate, the
collected wisdom of a nation known by its
commercial enterprise, its colonies and its
victories, throughout the habitable globe,
was, indeed, a spectacle so august that I
anticipated it with pleasure tempered by
reverence: not that I expected to see the
curule chairs, the fasces and lictors of the
Roman forum, or to discover, in British
countenances, that inflexible composure of

features which dignified the conscript
father slain in his ivory chair by the barbarian
Gaul; but I had reason to expect to
see a solemn assembly of wise, dignified
men, in sober consultation upon the important
concerns of the greatest commercial
nation in the world. In an assembly
of hereditary legislators, like the house of
lords, there might be dignity, but a general
display of great talents, as it is fortuitous,
could not be expected. In the house of
commons, elected from the great body of
the people, I justly expected to find the
talents, the learning, the wisdom and political
science of a wise nation collected in
one brilliant focus; to hear the persuasion
of Cicero, the subtlety of Eschines, the
thunder of Demosthenes, with all I had
read, and more than I could conceive, of
ancient eloquence, poured from British lips
in language nobler than that of Greece or
Rome.

It seems, in going at too early an hour,
I had committed the common blunder of

the plebeian who is invited to dine with
my lord. I had taken my seat in the gallery
full three hours before the feast of
reason was served up: there were only a
few official attendants of the house present.
After a while, several gentlemen came in,
booted and spurred as if from a fox-chase:
they formed little parties of chit-chat. As
I understood several of them were members
of parliament, I was not a little anxious
to hear them converse, hoping to stay my
appetite with some eleemosynary scraps of
wisdom, as we, in Boston, take a relish
of punch and oysters, at noon, to prepare
the appetite when invited to a fashionable
dinner. I was soon gratified; two of them
came within hearing, and seemed earnestly
engaged in discourse. Aye, thought I,
now you are untwisting some knotty fiscal
point, or quoting Puffendorf, Grotius, and
Vattel on the laws of nations, or citing
passages from the laws of Oleron, to correct
the defects of your maritime code.—
Suddenly, one of them vociferated—“done
“for five hundred guineas; Creeper
“against Sweeper, feather weight.” Now,
as Creeper and Sweeper were two authors
upon political economy of whom I had
never heard, I was somewhat chagrined.
To be sure, to hear the great statesmen
of this great nation converse in my native
tongue and be unable to comprehend
them, was rather mortifying. I was so
simple that, at first, I thought the learned
Creeper might have written a commentary
on Smith's wealth of nations, and that the
erudite Sweeper had illustrated Dr. Price's
essay on finance, by the negative quantities
of algebra. Feather weight, I naturally
concluded, alluded to the balance of power
in Europe.—One of the senators roared
out, “My lord! my lord!” and, upon a
nobleman's approach, said, familiarly,
“ha, Clermont! I have betted five hun
“dred guineas on your gelding, Creeper,
“against Featherstone's Sweeper, provi
“ded my groom, Jim Twamley, rides.”
“I beg your pardon, Sir John,” replied
his lordship; “no man straddles my fa
“vourite horse, upon the turf, but my
“self;—but I will back you for five
“hundred more, and ride myself. Why,
“you know, knight, that I beat Sky“Scraper,
at the heats for the king's
“plate, and took the long odds, though
“Twamley rode Sky-Scraper, and I car
“ried weight.” Not as a politician, I
hope—I aspirated. It was now apparent
these members of parliament were also
members of that sublime political seminary
the jockey club. I had, however,
candour enough to consider that all great
public bodies must exhibit some weak
and indecorous members; and, as the
house began to fill, I observed many gentlemen
whose appearance would have done
honour to the areopagus of Athens.—The
speaker, a dignified man, arrayed in an
imposing costume, took the chair. The
house was immediately called to order,
and business commenced; but it was not
very interesting, being merely the passage
of certain bills, through the routine of the
house. The seats were soon filled, and the
minister arose to open what is called
the budget. This beggarly term, which
impresses a stranger with the tags, rags,
and jags of a beggar's pack, is, however,
not unaptly chosen; for, in this region of
taxes, there are few objects so mean as not
to be included in this financiering budget.
The minister, in a plain style, and monotonous
voice, remarked on the various
expenditures of the past, and the taxes
necessary to be levied to meet the present,
exigencies. He acknowledged that the war
with France was commenced on very different
principles from which it was now
to be maintained. He endeavoured to elucidate
those principles; but I was so dull
I could not comprehend him, which I sincerely
regret, as it has long been an object
of curiosity, with me, to discover why
Great Britain involved herself in this ruinous
war; but he was very clear that,
however the war began, it was now to be
maintained on a principle of self-defence;
and he seemed to console himself in the
reflection, that, as the nation now contended
for her very existence, the people
could not require any more substantial
reason for the augmentation of taxes. He
was heard with patience, but no sooner
seated than half a dozen members arose
in opposition, and there was some time
lost in deciding who should speak; and I
thought rather too much disorder in producing
order. The second orator spoke
with much more animation, but was heard
with much less patience. He had prepared
a very bitter philippic against the ministry,
which, to me, scented very strongly of the
midnight oil. He represented the nation
as on the verge of ruin; miserable at
home, and a laughing-stock abroad: he
displayed a novel style of rhetoric: he was
generally, although he spoke in a higher
key, as monotonous as the minister: he
accented and emphasized whole sentences
instead of syllables or words: he had copiously
enriched his speech with quotations
from the English classics, and, when
he came to those passages, he would prepare
himself by a pause, cast his eyes
towards the treasury-bench, (a seat occupied
by such of the administration as are
members of this house,) and pronounce
the quotation in an octave above his common
tone, and sometimes repeating it
with “sir, I say,” “sir, I am bold to
“say,” “sir, I do not hesitate in saying.”
After about two hours' exertion, he seemed
suddenly to arouse all his energies, and,
casting his eyes indignantly towards the
treasury-bench, vociferated “Mr. Speaker,
“I am bold to say `there is something
“`rotten in the state of Denmark,' and I
“now crave the attention of honourable
“members while I point out this defec
“tive plank in the vessel of the common
“wealth, and drag from their lurking
“holes those pestiferous worms who are
“gnawing the foundations of the constitu
“tion;”—but ere he could extract one of
this “corporation of politic worms,” he
was interrupted by a burst of clamour—
order! order! order!—hear him! hear
him! hear him! was the cry. Amidst
this hubbub I thought I could distinguish
sounds very like coughing and shuffling
the feet, but there is something so wretchedly
vulgar in such conduct I had rather
discredit my own ears than impute it to
such a venerable body: indeed, there was
something so indecorous, and at the same
time so ludicrous, in the whole scene, I
hesitated whether to laugh or weep. The
cry of order! order! was vociferated in
accents so similar to the play-house off!
off! to a hissed actor, my first impression
was that, by the wand of Harlequin, the
commons had been changed to Coventgarden
theatre, and I seated in the shilling-gallery,
and I could scarcely forbear
exclaiming, to this legislative orchestra,
caira, caira! roast-beef, roast-beef! God
save the king!—After a while something
like silence (which, however, would be
called an uproar in any decent assembly)
was produced. The orator attempted to
speak again, but part of his speech being
struck out, by a decision of order from
the chair, so deranged the whole that,
after some abortive attempts to splice the
rope of his rhetoric, he sat down, apparently
exulting in the confusion he had
made.

A slender, dapper member now arose,
(the very reverse of the hoary ancient who
quieted the tumult in the æneid,) and
suddenly restored good-humour. The
sole object of this pert, voluble legislator,
seemed to be to say smart things; in
which, with some help from those standing
English wits, Joe Miller, Quin, and Ben
Jonson, and some quotations from “Laugh
“and be fat,” he was, indeed, very successful.
He compared the requisitions of a
certain popular leader, to obtain a view of
certain secret negotiations, and the reply
of the cabinet minister, to a story which
he said he had read in a learned author.

“A certain man having something con
“cealed carefully under a cloak, was
“required to tell what it was, by an in
“quisitive fellow. `Sir,' said he `can you
“`keep a secret?' `Yes,' replied the
“inquirer. `So can I,' retorted the hu
“morist.”—This threadbare story, which
may be found in the earliest edition of the
oldest jest-book in England, actually convulsed
the house with laughter! Yes,
Frank, the members of the august British
house of commons—the conscript fathers
of Great Britain, actually grinned with joy,
and shook their sides with laughter like a
knot of “younkers on the green!”—
Only think, Frank—a merry house of
commons, funny wisdom, jocular profundity
of thought!—Why, a laughing
legislature is to me as incongruous as a
skipping, tripping bishop, a comical clergyman,
or a buxom, romping penitent.
I was ashamed, mortified, disgusted. I
felt the dignity of my nature violated.
I felt more—I remembered I was of English
descent, and I blushed for the land
of my ancestors. You know, Frank, that,
notwithstanding the irritation of our revolutionary
contest, there is an undescribable
something clinging to the heart of every
Anglo-American which sensibly associates
us with the glory of old England.
In the days of our fathers, this clime was
universally known, through the colonies,
under the endearing appellation of the
mother country; and when my honoured
father went to Bristol, to establish a commercial
connection with the house of
Tappenden and Hanby, it was said, in the
family, he was going home. Ah! if
British statesmen could feel all our fathers
felt, and we are disposed to feel, in uttering
this domestic, affectionate, sacred word,
they might attach the profits of our commerce
in a measure not to be attained by
all the despotic intricacies of their maritime
code. I felt the full force of the
word—I was in my father's house—I was
at home: but when amidst the fathers of
the nation, convened in solemn assembly
to deliberate on mighty subjects, which
involved not only their own existence, as
a state, but the welfare and peace of the
world, I beheld them listening to the bald
jokes of a mountebank, and grinning like
clowns at his ribaldry—by the bones of
my English ancestors, I could have gone
backwards, like the children of Noah, and
cast a garment over my parents' nakedness.—I
have visited the house several
times since, but found it changed
The house was very thin, scarcely a
business quorum, although I thought the
subjects in debate very momentous.
When the question, however, was about
to be taken, absent members seemed to
have notice—came thronging in, and
voted as if they had been prepared by
deliberate investigation. Now, there is
more propriety in this than your Yankey
imagination would at first conceive. As
these evanescent members are all pledged
to their party, and have actually had their
minds made up for them, you must be
sensible it would be of no use for any one
of them to hear arguments in favour of
his own decided prepossession, and arguments
on the other side might tend to
raise doubts of the rectitude and wisdom
of his leaders, and to entertain such doubts
would be an unpardonable weakness in a
true-bred politician. They have, I am
told, a practice for members on opposite
sides to pair off, to save themselves from
the tedium of a debate. Now, this is
equally rational; for if a pair of intellectual
balances could be provided, the
talents of these pairs would so nicely equiponderate
that the wisdom of either party
in the house would be diminished in accurate
proportion. Indeed, it is to be
lamented that this mode of pairing off,
which is at present confined to the mute,
could not be extended to the speaking
members; for although the fewer the
members the less disquiet may be expected
in a noisy and quarrelsome family,
yet, if the promoters of discord, the brutal
husband and scolding wife, would sometimes
pair off, it might wonderfully conduce
to the quiet of the mansion.

But, to be serious; amidst all the bustle
and puerility of the British house of commons,
I have heard some gentlemen, who,
if you, who have been modelled from the
ancient schools, would not acknowledge
to be orators, yet you would allow them to
be sensible men, speaking pertinently
upon subjects which they seemed intimately
to comprehend, and in language
which might pass from their lips to the
press, and, without correction, be read and
admired as specimens of fine, if not
energetic speaking.