CHAPTER XVII
THE SPEECH FROM THE THRONE

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The Speech from the Throne, or, as it is popularly called, “The King’s Speech,” which at the opening of every session of Parliament is read to Peers and Commons assembled in the House of Lords by the Sovereign himself, is always awaited with considerable interest, and, at times of high political excitement, with some apprehension not unmingled with vows of defiance. For in it the legislative programme of the Government is disclosed. As such it is the text on which the Opposition develop their attack.

To call the Speech the “King’s Speech” is a polite fiction—aye, though, should his Majesty be absent, the Lord Chancellor, before he reads it, is careful to say—following an ancient custom, which changes in the Constitution have long since deprived of its old significance—that it is in “his Majesty’s own words.” The Sovereign has practically little or no share in its original composition. It is really the Speech of the Cabinet. But there was a time when the King really spoke in the Speech. Parliament could not then assemble until the King thought fit personally to summon it. When it did meet, the King appointed and declared the business in his Speech, and Lords and Commons were expected to confine themselves strictly to the tasks thus prescribed. This prerogative is still theoretically vested in the Crown. Parliament can be summoned only by the Sovereign, but since the Revolution of 1688 the Sovereign in summoning it has acted on the advice of the Ministers. Parliament cannot proceed with business until the Speech from the Throne has been delivered; but since the Revolution, also, neither House—as we shall see later—is bound to confine itself to the “causes of summons” set forth in the Speech.

The first draft of the Speech is usually written by the Prime Minister. What Bills are to be submitted to Parliament is first decided by the Cabinet, but the general contents of the Speech, and certainly its phraseology, may be ascribed to the head of the Government. The draft is submitted to a full meeting of the Cabinet, where it is discussed point by point; and probably undergoes some alteration in the way of an omission here, an addition there, or a qualification of some particular statement. Then a copy of the Speech is sent to the King for his approval. In Selections from the Correspondence of Queen Victoria (published 1907) there is a memorandum, written by Prince Albert and dated December 9, 1854, of an interview with Lord Aberdeen, then Prime Minister, which describes a “scene” in the Cabinet Council over the preparation of the Speech that Queen Victoria was to read at the opening of Parliament. Lord John Russell had to withdraw a scheme of parliamentary reform at the outbreak of the Crimean War, and now wanted to bring it on again, greatly to the annoyance of Lord Palmerston, for the War was not yet over. Prince Albert writes:

Later, when they came to the passage about Education, Lord John made an alteration in the draft, adding something about strengthening the institutions of the country. Lord Palmerston started up and asked: “Does that mean Reform?” Lord John answered: “It might or might not.” “Well, then,” said Lord Palmerston, with a heat of manner which struck the whole Cabinet, and was hardly justified by the occasion, “I wish it to be understood that I protest against any direct or indirect attempt to bring forward the Reform question again!” Lord John, nettled, muttered to himself, but loud enough to be heard by everybody: “Then I shall bring forward the Reform Bill at once.”

That the “King’s Speech” is the Speech of the Ministers has been admitted by reigning Sovereigns even in the eighteenth century when constitutional monarchy was not quite firmly established, and, at any rate, when Kings were disposed to act independently of their advisers. In 1756, a too enterprising and most audacious bookseller was prosecuted for publishing a spurious Speech on the eve of the opening of Parliament. “I hope,” said George II, “the fellow’s punishment will be light, for I have read both Speeches, the real and the false, and, so far as I understand them, I like the printer’s speech better than my own.” The fellow was heavily fined and sent to Newgate by the Lords and the mock Speech was burnt by the common hangman in New Palace Yard and at the Royal Exchange as a “scandalous libel and a high contempt of his Majesty.” But the King had the fine remitted and the term of imprisonment curtailed. “Well, Lord Chancellor,” said George III to Lord Eldon, as he was leaving the House of Lords after opening Parliament, “did I deliver the Speech well?” “Very well indeed, sir,” was the reply. “I’m surprised at that,” said the King, “for there was nothing in it.” The voice was the voice of the King, but the words were the words of his Ministers. Still, the King must surely be allowed some latitude of opinion in regard to the King’s Speech beyond a formal expression of approval. The truth is that if he chooses he may suggest alterations, and insist upon them, no doubt, provided modifications of policy are not implied. He probably softens an expression now and then, or adds a gracious sentence. Did not George III insert in his first Speech the famous words, “Born and bred in this country, I glory in the name of Briton!” He was the first English-born King since the Revolution. George I could not speak a word of English. He and his Prime Minister, Walpole, discussed affairs of State in bad Latin. George II publicly proclaimed himself a foreigner every time he read the Speech to the “Gendlemen of de Houze of Gommons.” The historic phrase of George III has been ascribed to the influence of his early friend and adviser, the Scottish John Stuart, third Earl of Bute, which, it was said, explained the degradation of the proud name of “Englishman” into the commonplace “Briton.” But the King always insisted that the inspiration of the sentence, as well as its composition, was entirely his own. A story is told which lends confirmation to his claim. Notwithstanding the birth and training in which he gloried, he wrote English ungrammatically and was a bad speller; and thus “Briton” in the renowned sentence, as written by the royal hand, was actually misspelt “Britain.” “What a lustre does it cast upon the name of Briton when you, sir, are pleased to esteem it among your glories,” said the House of Lords in their Address thanking the King for his Speech.

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That there have been many cases of dispute between the Sovereign and his Ministers, in recent years, at least, as to either the measures set out in the Speech or the phraseology of its sentences is very unlikely. Only two instances during the long reign of Queen Victoria have come to light. In 1859, Austria, struggling to maintain her position in Italy, was at war with Sardinia, and the intervention of France on the side of Sardinia was regarded in some circles in this country as a characteristic act of aggression by the Emperor, Louis Napoleon. The draft of the proposed Speech from the Throne submitted to Queen Victoria contained the following passages:

Receiving assurances of friendship from both the contending parties, I intend to maintain a strict and impartial neutrality, and hope, with God’s assistance, to preserve to my people the blessing of continued peace.