Habits and men, with remnants of record touching the makers of bothDoran, Dr. (John)
Philosophy
Habits and men, with remnants of record touching the makers of both
Doran, Dr. (John)
Manners and customs
I do not know if it ever occurred to any one that hats had something to
do with the dissolution of the Long Parliament; but such is the fact.
As soon as Cromwell had declared that assembly non-existent, he flung
on his hat, and paced up and down the Parliament Chamber. The members,
however, were piqued by such truly cavalier swagger, and would not budge
an inch. Cromwell called in Major Harrison and the guard. The Major saw
how matters stood, and he felt at once that he could get the ex-deputies
out much sooner by courtesy than carbines. Accordingly he approached
the Speaker, and taking off his own hat with much ceremony, he bowed
low, kissed the fallen official’s hand, detaining it at the same time
with such gentle violence that the deposed dignitary was constrained to
follow whither the very polite but unwelcome republican chose to conduct
him. The Major led him out of the Hall, we are told, “as a gentleman
does a lady, the whole Parliament following.” Thus a hat in hand helped
to do what a hat on head failed to accomplish; and the Long Parliament
resisting rudeness, yielded to gallantry, and was demolished for ever.
The close of the last national Parliament held in Scotland has something
in connection with the hat. On the 22nd April, 1707, that illustrious
but sometimes turbulent assembly adjourned never to meet again. There
must have been some aching hearts under the old-fashioned dresses of
many of the members; but there was no sorrow to be read on the brow of
Seafield the Chancellor. He put on his hat as he pronounced, with brutal
levity, the annihilation of the parliamentary body. Had he done it to
hide confusion or to mark contempt, there might have been some excuse for
him, but it was a mere formality; and he unfeelingly added thereto, words
which were the cruel knell of the dying victim. “There,” said he, “there
is the end of an auld sang!” It was a song that, in its day, had been
sung to some tune, despite some harshness and occasional discord; but, as
the Chancellor remarked when he put on his hat, there was an end of it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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