A SPECTATOR 'S NOTEBOOK
ONLY a handful of the oldest Members of the House of Commons remember Mr. Speaker Lowther, and as Mr. Speaker Lowther, rather than as Lord Ullswater, they will still remember him. It is 28 years since he left the chair— he was 93 at the time of his death last week—and he is conceded to have been indisputably one of the great Speakers of Parliamentary history. His descent from one of the old aristocratic families gave him an innate authority, untainted by any affectation of superiority, which stood him in good stead in those uneasy days when the Southern Irish were still members of the House of Commons. His strength lay in his quickness of grasp, no less than in his firmness of grasp, and in that ready humour Which so infallibly acts as an emollient in the House of Commons. Most of the anecdotes about him have been told in the obituary notices— including probably these : A pertinacious Member who insisted on respectfully challenging one of his rulings, asked finally " Mr. Speaker, what appeal is there from your decision." " None," came the calm and instantaneous answer. "Like the Pope, I am infallible." On another occasion a pedestrian and long-winded orator ejaculated, " But now I ask myself this question. . . ." "Then," observed the Chair sotto voce, but by no means studiously sotto voce, " you'll get a damned silly answer."
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