A SPECTATOR'S NOTEBOOK
ONE of the most interesting features of this Parliament will be kj the contest between innovation and tradition. What effect is the ancient pageantry and the time-honoured phraseology going to have on the redder wing of Mr. Attlee's party—and what effect is the redder wing going to have on theie survivals? The question is inevitable as one listens to Mr. Attlee moving an address beginning with the invocation " Most Gracious Sovereign," or watches the Chaplain walking backward the length of the House at the end of prayers, or witnesses Black Rod's periodical visits to summon the faithful Commons to hear a royal command in the House of Peers. Tradition, I believe, will win, and I hope it will, for it is well for every Parliament to be reminded of its heritage. It was in fact re- minded strikingly of that on Wednesday, when, through force of circumstances, it met for the first time for over a century in St. Stephen's Hall, on the very spot where successive Houses of Com- mons had met for centuries—from the reign of Edward VI till exactly a hundred and eleven years ago to the very day (as the Speaker very appositely reminded the House). Members who saw Chatham and Pitt and Fox and Hampden as silent witnesses on their pedestals could imagine for themselves the drama and the oratory that in past generations had made St. Stephen's a familiar name throughout the world. One other reflection suggested itself—that it was a happy thing that this session, for which such contentions have been promised in some quarters, should begin with the note of unity so predominant. The end of the war, the thanksgiving service in St. Margaret's, the loyal address to the Crown, all accustomed Members new and old to think of solidarity before they thought of division. The division will reveal itself soon enough, but this new House of Commons has realised already that it is a single body, with duties to itself and to the past of Parliament.
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