VIEW FROM THE GALLERY

A Tremendously Important Person

S ALLY VINCENT

Little more than half the full complement of the House of Commons returned from its holiday to grace' the first day of the new session. They, however, managed to imitate the appearance of a full house spreading themselves out in traditional politicians' sprawls, luxuriating in the comfort of familiar ground.

Three upright gentlemen wigged and gowned and clerks to a man sit before the Speaker's chair which is conspicuously empty, a problem which is about to be remedied under the temporary chairmanship of Chief Clerk, Sir Barnett Cox, who will not, for all manner of traditional and ama- zing reasons, be allowed to utter one word. It is clearly going to be a problematic after- noon, and everybody makes loud groaning noises because it is the traditional noise to make and besides, it shows willing.

Sir Barnett rises to his feet and points a quivering finger in the direction of a nice

old lady sitting quietly in the back row with her shopping bag. Beneath a big beret, the colour of dried blood her face is sweet and kind as matron's when you come out from an anaesthetic. Dame Irene Ward is to propose the new Speaker.

Everybody has known for weeks that it is to be Selwyn Lloyd, but Dame Irene comes slowly to the point. Like a responsible head- mistress at first term assembly she warns her children against recalcitrance by dis- allowing any precedence for it. The conduct of our parliamentary affairs she reminds us has over the centuries made our system the envy and pride of every country in the world. Which puts us in our place.

She goes on to list the importance (tre- mendous importance) of the qualities to be

sought in a Speaker. He must safeguard the interests of the minority groups (hear hear from the faceless men in the back rows) and the illustrious men and women of the chamber (silence from the illustrious) and the rumbustious characters without which parliament would not be the same (hear hear and ho ho from all those wishing to aspire to the description).

And on to the personal qualities of her Right Honourable friend, Selwyn. All of Tremendous Importance. His wonderful reputation in all the distinguished offices he has held for Negotiation. Tremendously Important in a Speaker. And his gift for clarity of Expression and Mind. Tremen- dously Important. Then conies the question of Personality. Tremendously Important. His modesty and lack of desire for limelight. Tremendously Important. The wonderful way that while in high office he managed to run things smoothly and fairly. And it is not just that he is a man of great capability, brilliance and wit that she is so proud to propose his name. but that he is an absolutely first-class human being into the bargain.

From the other side of the House comes the gravelly cockney of Charles Pannell. But he forgets the significance of the situation and addresses his remarks to Mistress Speaker, correcting himself to Mr Clerk amid the hysterical whoopings of the members. In later addresses to the Clerk Mr Pannell remembers the success of his stumble and refers to Mr Er Er.

He reminds the House of Mr Selwyn Lloyd's support of the Members super- annuation scheme and of his interest and hard work in improving the pension situation for them all. Clearly here is a man with everybody's good at heart. Or, as Mr Pannell put it, a man with a sense of fairplay.

From the tory bench rises a third pro- poser, not on the agenda. A gaunt face above a striped suit, the owner of which is anxious that the new Speaker should not be left to languish in solitude far from the warmth of the Smoking Room and Dining Room but should be encouraged to give full rein to his gregarious personality. He goes on to tell a long story about some long-ago figure who was persuaded to put pheasants in the green bag behind the Speaker's chair in order to gain the favour of his eye. He explains that this was a joke at the time, but it is not clear from the tone of the

laughter if it is still a joke today. We can afford to be lighthearted since to all expec- tations, the business of the day is more or less over.

But there is opposition. Mr Robert Maxwell-Hyslop, a young and verbose fellow, pursued a dogged line in dissent. Backbenchers had not, he lamented, been consulted on this issue. Nobody asked him. This is not a democratic election. And furthermore with only one candidate how can there he a division? He takes about twenty minutes to say this, and throws in a potted history of the parliamentary signifi- cance of the Speaker for good measure, which is received with groans and yah-boos and general mutterings of misery. Boredom, however, is dispersed when he decided to propose a second candidate 'Sir Geoffrey Stanley .de Freitas' he announces and the House falls about in uproar, but none so horrified as Sir Geoffrey himself who fades palely into green upholstery to prepare his speech, disclaiming all knowledge of the move, and apologising for any unpleasant- ness that might attach itself to him via the incident.

William Hamilton, himself a contender for the Speaker's role until recently. availed himself of the right to second the poor

man's nomination and waxes somewhat lyrical in the direction of the hypocrisy with which he says the House is riddled. It is not so much a cheer for Sir Geoffrey he is attempting to raise, but a smeer for Selwyn, who, he implies, was mixed up in something disreputable in foreign affairs in 1956. Not only that, but on other occasions Selwyn spoke out in favour of freezing nurses' pay, which is all very strange when you think of Dame Irene and the way she has always been a champion of the nurses. Nevertheless, he adds, before sitting down, he is sure the Right Honourable gentleman will make an excellent Speaker. The praise is greeted silently and Mr Hamilton is obliged to ex- plain that he has made the comment in order not to be taken for a boorish person.

So there is to be a division after all. The House bellows out its 'ayes' and Maxwell- Hyslop, all aton6, hoots back his 'no'. So somebody tells a microphone to clear the lobby.

Selwyn Lloyd, a round pink face with glasses, sits in the emptying chamber while everybody bumbles through doors and back again. The microphone is told 'Lock the doors' and the members lounge back on their benches, emiting silent yawns of satis- faction. The score is 294 to 55. Selwyn Lloyd is elected.

Someone nudges Dame Irene, who has somehow managed to get herself behind the vacant Speaker's chair and everybody giggles expectantly as she moves meaningfully to- wards Mr Lloyd. Now we are to see what has become of the old tradition, when the proposer and seconder of the Speaker Elect are supposed to drag the protesting fellow to his seat in a frenzy of heel-digging and panic. Kings no longer kill Speakers. but there has, by tradition, to be some show of unwillingness, otherwise what would be the point of tradition? Even a man about to achieve a salary of £9,800 a year plus a house like Dracula's castle, and wig and robes and silk stockings and special knicker- bockers and bright-buckled shoes, not to mention the prestige, security and glory, even such a man with nowhere to go next but the House of Lords, even he must be expected to put on a show for the past.

Only Dame Irene walks straight' past Selwyn and heads for her seat at the back.

Great hissing and restraining arms remind her of her duty and she plods back to Selwyn, ready and waiting on his feet. and takes his arm cosily. Along comes Charlie Pannell to hold his other hand and together they move in an embarrassed shuffle to the auspicious Chair. With one foot on the pedestal. our Speaker Elect voices gratitude for the great honour bestowed upon him by the House and promises no hard feelings towards anyone who might have said any- thing controversial.

Then the Right Honourable (John) Selwyn (Brooke) Lloyd takes his seat and sits en- tombed beneath its vast canopy, a grey shadow in the failing afternoon light, and listens to the congratulatory eulogies of the leaders of the three parties and the final blessing from the Father of the House, during the course of which half the company get up and walks scrappily away.

There remains one more formality. It is now encumbent among a messenger of the House to hie himself to Sandringham where her Majesty the Queen is currently incon- veniently residing,- to negotiate with her an act of extraordinary diplomacy, by disguising

the fait accompli as a request for her recom- mendation of the man already chosen, It is, after all, traditional.