THE KING OPENS PARLIAMENT

Press, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22593, 24 December 1938, Page 26

THE KING OPENS PARLIAMENT

IMPORTANT SESSION BEGUN SCENE IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS TRADITIONAL SPLENDOUR OF. CEREMONY Craou otm own correspondent.) LONDON, November 10. More interest than usual was taken in the opening of Parliament by the King this year. It is generally expected that the coming session, following the greatest crisis in international affairs since 1914, will be one of the most important in English history. Viewing the occasion, in this light, Londoners flocked in greater numbers to the processional route, from Buckingham Palace to the House of Lords, to watch the State drive. Inside the House of Lords the traditional scene of splendour was as magnificent as ever. It is one which may be watched by the privileged few, by the peers, by some of the peeresses (who ballot for their seats), by a few of the Commons, and wives of Ministers, by foreign ambassadors. High Commissioners, and by the press. In the Chamber, some 500 people are assembled with the minimum seating accommodation (60 ambassadors have six short benches between them, and 44 journalists occupy a space normally provided for 27). The King and Queem do not reach the House until 11.45, but at 10.50 the first of the nobility take their places. For the next hour the scene in the Chamber gradually forms as peers in their scarlet and ermine robes seat themselves on the red leather covered benches, and the peeresses, in magnificent evening dresses and tiaras, sparkling under the electric lights, are conducted to their balloted places. Women also occupy all the places in three of the four galleries directly above the Chamber, among them being Mrs Neville Chamberlain, Lady Simon, and Mrs W. J. Jordan, wife ol the High Commissioner for New Zealand. On the Woolsack (now stuffed with Empire wool, and not horsehair), and an accompanying bench, the Lords of Appeal, wearing their long grey wigs and black and gold gowns, and the judges, bewigged and in scarlet robes, seat themselves. On their left are the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London, and behind these leaders of the Church are the ambassadors, the majority wearing a sash incorporating the colours of their country. Most conspicuous are the ambassador for Saudi-Arabia, in his Arab burnous, and the ambassador for Nepal, with his tall nodding plume. At 11.45 the murmur of conversation is hushed. The robed Duke of Kent is seen entering slowly from the door on the right of the Throne. The Duchess is absent this year, and the Gloucesters are abroad. Everyone rises, and the Duke seats himself on the right of the judges. As benches are reoccupied every light in the Chamber is gradually dimmed, except for the glow shining down on the Throne. For the next quarter of an hour the only illumination is the light of a grey November day filtering through the stained glass windows above. are also twin rays shining from the lamps outside the Chamber, seen through the doors on either side of the Throne, where white plumed Gentlemen-at-arms lean on their halberds. From the galleries the setting can be compared with an ancient faded oil painting. Through the dim shadows the bright scarlet of the peers’ robes and the white of the peeresses’ gowns stand in sharp relief. The grey wigs of the judges lend an almost ghostly effect. The dancing tiaras are stilled. The globes of the maze of electric lights overhead glow dully red. Conversation resumes in a low hum. So the scene remains for the next quarter of an hour. Their Majesties Arrive The first sign that the King and Queen are approaching (they were four minutes late this year) is the appearance of heralds through the door on the left of the Throne. When they have moved silently into position another . procession can be seen moving through the door on the right. Two figures are observed to be walking backwards. In front of them are the King and Queen, magnificently robed and gowned, their crowns glittering, their left and right hands clasped. Everyone has ris£n. The lights reblaze at their brightest. Scarletclad pages arrange the trains of Their Majesties’ robes on the steps to the Throne, the King settles himself securely in the high-backed, armed chair, the Queen seating herself a half second later. Lord Halifax, bearing the Cap of Maintenance, stands on the right of the Throne, and the Earl Stanhope, carrying the Sword of State, on the left. For a moment there is silence. Then the King says, “My lords, pray died away, there follows another be seated.” When the rustling has pause while Black Rod summons members of the Commons, led in procession by the Speaker and the Prime Minister. Time was when a rush of members followed this summoning—in 1875, Disraeli, when Prime Minister, was knocked down —but matters are arranged with more dignity these days, and the majority of members witnessing the scene are admitted earlier, by ticket, to an upper gallery. When the Commons have taken up their position at the Bar of the Lords, the King’s speech is handed to him by the Lord High Chancellor, bewigged and magnificent in black and gold robes, and on bended knee the King, seated, reads his “Most Gracious Speech To Both Houses of Parliament.’’ Such announcements as “My Government will press forward with better housing, both urban and rural,” the treatment of cancer, penal laws for young offenders, an increase in the consumption of milk, and the building of pithead baths, have an unreal air in this immaculate setting. No applause greets any part of the speech. There is no rumbling “hear, hear,” always associated with the Commons when Members show their approval. When the King has read the last word, the Lord High Chancellor receives the Speech from his Majesty and retires. There is a pause. The Earl Marshal, the Duke of Norfolk, walks slowly before the Throne,