The extensive patronage that attaches to the office adds much to its importance. The Chancellor recommends the appointment of all judges of the High Court and Court of Appeal, and is empowered to appoint or remove County Court judges and Justices of the Peace. He also has the gift of all Crown livings of £20 or under, according to the valuation made in Henry VIII.'s reign, and of many other places.[179] One of his perquisites is the Great Seal, which, when "broken up," becomes the property of the reigning Chancellor. The breaking up of the Great Seal is a simple ceremony which inflicts no actual damage upon the article itself. Whenever a new Great Seal is adopted, at the beginning of a new reign, on a change of the royal arms, or when the old Seal is worn out, the sovereign gives the latter a playful tap with a hammer, and it is then considered to be useless, and becomes the property of the Lord Chancellor. On the accession of William IV. a dispute arose between Lord Lyndhurst and Lord Brougham as to who should possess the old Seal. The former had been Chancellor when the order was made for the engraving of the new Seal; the latter had occupied the Woolsack when the new Seal was finished and ordered to be put into use. The King, to whom the question was referred, decided, with truly Solomonian sagacity, that the Seal should be divided between the two Chancellors.[180]
The people of England, as Disraeli said some seventy years ago, have been accustomed to recognize in the Lord Chancellor a man of singular acuteness, of profound learning, and vast experience, who has won his way to a great position by the exercise of great qualities, by patient study, and unwearied industry. They expect to find in him a man who has obtained the confidence of his profession before he challenges the confidence of his country, who has secured eminence in the House of Commons before he has aspired to superiority in the House of Lords; a man who has expanded from a great lawyer into a great statesman, and who "brings to the Woolsack the commanding reputation which has been gained in the long and laborious years of an admired career."[181] Seldom, indeed, are the people of England disappointed.
CHAPTER VII
THE SPEAKER
The position of "First Commoner of the Realm" is, after that of Prime Minister, the most distinguished as well as the most difficult to which it is possible for any man to attain while still a member of Parliament. A comparison of the two offices proves, in one respect at any rate, favourable to the former; for whereas it has been said that the Premier "can do nothing right," the Speaker can do no wrong. He may indeed be considered to enjoy in the House the prerogative which the sovereign is supposed to possess in the country. But it is not upon his presumable infallibility that the occupant of the Chair relies to-day for the unquestioned honour and dignity of his position. It is rather to the reputation for absolute integrity with which, for close upon a hundred years, each Speaker in turn has been justly credited, that he owes the tribute of esteem and respect, almost amounting to awe, which is nowadays rightly regarded as his due. The reverence he now inspires is the product of many Parliaments; his present state is the gradual growth of ages.
From very early days, when the two Houses began to sit apart, the Commons must probably have always possessed an official who, in some measure, corresponded to the modern idea of a Speaker. And though Sir Thomas Hungerford, elected to the Chair in 1377, was the first upon whom that actual designation was bestowed, the Lower House undoubtedly employed the services of a spokesman—or "pourparlour," as he was then called—at an even earlier date.[182]
The name "Speaker" is perhaps a misleading one, since speaking must be numbered among the least important of the many duties that centre round the Chair, though in bygone days it was customary for a Speaker to "sum up" at the close of the proceedings. Grattan's landlady used to complain feelingly that it was a sad thing to see her misguided young lodger rehearsing his speeches in his bedroom, and talking half the night to some one whom he called "Mr. Speaker," when there was no speaker present but himself.[183] It is, however, as the mouthpiece of the Commons, as one who speaks for, and not to, his fellow-members, and was long the only channel through which the Commons could express their views to the Crown, that the Speaker earns his title.
The Speaker may well be called the autocrat of the House; his word there is law, his judgment is unquestioned, his very presence is evocative of a peculiar deference. He is at the same time the servant of the House, and, in the memorable words which Speaker Lenthall addressed to Charles I., has "neither eyes to see nor tongue to speak but as the House is pleased to direct." It is upon the good pleasure of the Commons that his power is based; by their authority alone he rules supreme.