“Once a peer, a peer for life,” it is said, truly enough, and yet every Lord of Parliament must receive, at the dissolution, a fresh summons from the Crown, and must take a fresh oath of allegiance, before he can resume his legislative duties in the new Parliament. The writs are issued from the Crown Office at Westminster to “the Lords spiritual and temporal” individually. The mediæval quaintness of the summons—it has been in use for over six centuries—is shown in its principal passage: We strictly enjoining, command you upon the faith and allegiance by which you are bound to Us, that the weightiness of the said affairs and imminent perils considered (waiving all excuses), you be at the said day and place personally present with Us, and with the said Prelates, Great Men, and Peers, to treat and give your council upon the affairs aforesaid. And this, as you regard Us and Our honour and the safety and defence of the said United Kingdom and Church and dispatch of the said affairs, in no wise do you omit. The writ sent to the spiritual peers is the same, save that they are commanded to attend upon their “faith and love” instead of their “faith and allegiance,” as in the case of the peers temporal. The Archbishops of Canterbury and York, and the Bishops of London, Durham and Winchester, become Lords of Parliament immediately on their consecration, but the other prelates of the Church Establishment must await, in the order of seniority of consecration, writs of summons to the House of Lords, according as vacancies arise by death or resignation in the estate of the Lords spiritual. The number of spiritual peers is limited to twenty-six, and as there are thirty-six dioceses in the Established Church, ten of the prelates are therefore not Lords of Parliament, but all of them—save the Bishop of Sodor and Man—may hope, in time, to have seats in the House of Lords by succession. It is an interesting fact that the making of an affirmation instead of taking the oath—a not infrequent occurrence in the Commons—is rarely to be seen in the Lords. The only time I have witnessed it was when Viscount Morley of Blackburn (better known in literature and politics as John Morley) came to the table on his first introduction to the House of Lords in May 1908, and the Clerk produced, in the usual course, the New Testament and the copy of the oath. Lord Morley refused to be sworn, and insisted on making affirmation instead. As there was no precedent for such a demand in the House of Lords, no form of affirmation was available; but after a hurried consultation between the Lord Chancellor and the Clerk, the terms of the oath, with the appeal to the Almighty, “So help me, God” omitted, were made to serve the purpose. 2