Chapter III (1)

THE PRESENT POSITION OF PARTY GOVERNMENT.

+England.+--We have seen that the fundamental error of the proportionalists is that they have failed to distinguish between the two stages of representation. In constantly appealing back to the earlier parliaments they altogether overlook the fact that the functions which Parliament now exercises were then vested in the King. But this error is not confined to the proportionalists, most of whom, indeed, however inconsistently, favour party government. It is also put forth as an argument by those who lay all the blame of present evils on the party system, and who think that all sections should work together as one united party. Take, for instance, the diatribe of Mr. W.S. Lilly on "The Price of Party Government" in the _Fortnightly Review_ for June, 1900. Mr. Lilly complains bitterly that the infallible oracle in politics to-day is "the man in the street." He asserts that all issues are settled "by counting heads, in entire disregard of what the heads contain." His bugbear is the extension of the franchise. "Representative institutions, for example," he asks, "what do they represent? The true theory unquestionably is that they should represent all the features of national life, all the living forces of society, all that makes the country what it is; and that in due proportion. And such was the Constitution of England up to the date of the first _Parliamentary Reform Act_. Its ideal was, to use the words of Bishop Stubbs, 'an organized collection of the several orders, states, and conditions of men, recognized as possessing political power.'" Could anything be more ridiculous? Political power is to be apportioned in the nineteenth century as it was in the fourteenth century! The people are to be always governed by their superiors! Mr. Lilly continues:--"It appears to me that the root of the falsification of our parliamentary system by the party game is to be found in the falsification of our representative system by the principle of political atomism. Men are not equal in rights any more than they are equal in mights. They are unequal in political value. They ought not to be equal in political power."

The mistake here is in the premise. Has not the demagogue more power than his dupes, or the Member of Parliament more power than the elector? We have hardly yet reached, and are never likely to reach, that ideal of direct government. But what is this price which Mr. Lilly is railing at? "The price may be stated in eight words. 'The complete subordination of national to party interests.' The _complete_ subordination. I use the adjective advisedly. Party interests are not only the first thought of politicians in England, but, too often, the last and only thought." All this is sheer nonsense. The coincidence of party aims with the real interests of the people which the British Parliament has displayed since the _Reform Act_ of 1832 has never been even remotely approached by any other country. Two causes have contributed to this great result; first, the gradual extension of the franchise to all sections of the people, and second, the fact that the principles of organization and leadership have been highly developed. In one respect, however, Mr. Lilly is right. The zenith has been passed. Party government is not the same to-day in England as it was twenty years ago. But the fault lies not with the extension of the suffrage, but with the fact that the principles of organization and leadership are less operative. True, the extension of the franchise is indirectly concerned in the failure, but the primary cause is that the present system of election is unable to bear the increased strain. It no longer suffices to organize the people into two coherent parties. The effect on the parties is correctly noted by Mr. Lilly. "A danger which ever besets them," he declares, "is that of sinking into factions."

Now, the result of the want of organization is the presence in Parliament of small independent factions, which, by holding the balance of power, cause the main parties to degenerate into factions.

This tendency is apparent even in England, and the rock on which the parties have split is the Irish faction. Into the merits of the Irish question we do not propose to enter; it is the career of the faction in Parliament which interests us. But it may be noted that the Irish party rests on a three-fold basis as a faction; it is based mainly on a class grievance, and is also partly racial and partly religious. It was the Irish party in the House of Commons which first discovered that, by keeping aloof from the two main parties, it could terrorize both; and thus found out the weak spot in party government. Its tactics were successful up to a certain point, for Mr. Gladstone succumbed to the temptation to purchase its support, and brought in the Home Rule Bill. The result is known to all; the historical Liberal party was rent in twain; party lines were readjusted; Mr. Gladstone was left in a hopeless minority; and the remnant of his following is to-day in the same condition. What is the lesson to be learned from these events? That these tactics cannot succeed in the long run. All interests suffer, but the culprits most of all. Moreover, such tactics are unconstitutional, and would in some circumstances justify retaliatory measures. Let us trace the constitutional course. The Irish members could have exerted a considerable influence on the policies of both Liberals and Conservatives, just as the Scotch did. If they had followed this course, might they not have been in a better position to-day?

Of course, the Irish faction can hardly be said to be the result of the present system of election; it is mainly the expression of old wrongs. But it has set the example, and the disintegration of the old parties is rapidly proceeding. One feature, however, in connection with the present system in Ireland may be mentioned, and that is the permanent disfranchisement of the minority. In the greater part of Ireland there is no such thing as a contest between the main parties. If a system were introduced by which the minority could get its share of representation the parties would compete on even terms for the support of the people, and good feeling would tend to be restored.

To return to Mr. Lilly. The present position of party government in England is not due to defects in the institution itself, still less to the extension of the suffrage, but to imperfect organization. The true remedy is, therefore, to improve organization, not to restrict the suffrage. By this means such a condition will be brought about that if either party favours a faction it will lose in general favour; then, indeed, we may hope that the main parties themselves will cease to degenerate into factions.

The same number of the _Fortnightly_ contains an unsigned article on "Lord Rosebery and a National Cabinet," in which the party system is alluded to as defunct, and in which the suggestion is thrown out that on the retirement of Lord Salisbury a national cabinet should be formed, comprising both Mr. Chamberlain and Lord Rosebery. Impending foreign complications are given as the excuse for terminating party action. Now, it is not to be denied that party government is more suitable for what Mr. Herbert Spencer calls the industrial type of society than for the militant type. Quite recently Lord Salisbury blamed the British Constitution for the state of unpreparedness for the present war. But it is equally true that in foreign affairs party action is generally suspended: in the control of India, for instance, it is so. The real question, then, is this: Is the danger of foreign aggression so serious that all questions of internal policy can be permanently set aside? If we have reached this stage, the end of modern civilization is in sight. In effect, the proposal is a return to the first stage of representation, with the difference that all sections of the people are expected to be held together by the fear of foreign aggression, instead of the fear of the aggression of the monarchy.

Mr. David Syme is a censor of a very different type. So far from wishing to take control from the people, he would give the people absolute control over everything, and at all times. Seldom has the case against party government been more powerfully presented than in his work on "Representative Government in England." But Mr. Syme founds his proposed remedies on a theory of representation which is based on the literal meaning of the word. No one has put the delegation theory more clearly than in the following passage, or gone so far in applying it:--

Representation is a mental act; it is the presentation or
reproduction of the state of mind of another person; and before one
person can represent another person he must first know what the
opinions of that other person are. A representative is a
substitute; he stands in the place of, and acts for, another
person. But one man cannot act for another unless he knows what
that other would do were he acting for himself. In other words, he
requires to know the motives which actuate that other person, or
what influences his motives, namely, his principles and beliefs.
The House of Commons is a representative body, not because every
individual member of it represents the opinions of the whole
nation, but because members in the aggregate represent those
opinions, (p. 170).

This position is diametrically opposed to the principles we have laid down, for it eliminates entirely the ideas of organization and leadership. Again, Mr. Syme says:--"If the government is to be carried on for the benefit of all classes, representatives should be chosen from all classes. We had class representation in the early parliaments, but then all classes were fairly represented." We have shown that the analogy from early parliaments is fallacious. Representatives should now be chosen irrespective of class, and not as class delegates. But Mr. Syme does not carry his theory to its logical conclusion. For if representatives merely express the thoughts of others, and should be class delegates, surely all classes are entitled to have their thoughts "represented;" and Mr. Syme should range himself among the disciples of Mr. Hare. But here comes in an interesting difference. Mr. Syme would retain the present system and make members continually responsible to a majority of their constituents; he would even give this majority power to dismiss them at any time. Now, this is practically an admission that representation involves the existence of a majority and a minority, or, in other words, is a means of organizing the people into a majority and a minority. Again, as regards leadership, the theory will hardly bear the test of facts. Could a man like Gladstone be said to merely express the thoughts of his constituents? Was he not rather a guide and leader of the thoughts of a great part of the British nation?

In addition to the continual responsibility of members to their constituents, Mr. Syme would also make the individual ministers of state responsible to a majority of the members. He adds:--"The whole system of party government could in this manner be quietly and effectively got rid of." We do not propose to criticise the latter suggestion, as we do not believe it would be put forward to-day, in the light of fuller knowledge. Mr. Syme's book was written nearly twenty years ago. But, as regards the continual responsibility of members, we consider it important that the electors should not have their way on single questions. They should periodically express their opinion as to the general line of progress, and the representatives should then have complete control. The necessity for this is to save the people from their anti-social tendencies, which we have already stated as the great objection to all forms of direct government. Lord Macaulay once defined the position exactly in a letter addressed to the electors of Edinburgh. "My opinion," he declared, "is that electors ought at first to choose cautiously; then to confide liberally; and when the term for which they have selected their member has expired to review his conduct equitably, and to pronounce on the whole taken together."

We hope to have left on the reader's mind by this time no doubt as to the intimate connection between the machinery of election and the resulting character of the legislature. Now it is a most extraordinary fact that this connection is hardly noticed by the leading constitutional authorities. It is true they often recognize that suggested changes like the Hare system would debase our legislatures, but it never seems to occur to them that present evils might be cured by a change in the electoral machinery. They point out the evils indeed, but only to indulge in gloomy forebodings at the onward march of democracy, or as warnings of the necessity for placing checks on the people.

Take Bagehot's study of the House of Commons in his standard work on "The English Constitution," where he classifies the functions exercised by the House. He insists that the most important of these is the elective function--its power to elect and dismiss the ministry. In addition, it exercises an expressive function, a teaching function, an informing function, and, lastly, the function of legislation. But not a word is said of the relation of these functions to representation, or to the method of election. It is asserted that the reason the House of Commons is able to exercise these functions is because England is a deferential nation, and the people leave government in the hands of their betters, the higher classes. On one point he is emphatic, and that is the absolute necessity of party. He writes:--

The moment, indeed, that we distinctly conceive that the House of
Commons is mainly and above all things an elective assembly, we at
once perceive that party is of its essence. The House of Commons
lives in a state of perpetual potential choice; at any moment it
can choose a ruler and dismiss a ruler. And therefore party is
inherent in it, is bone of its bone, and breath of its breath.

As to the present trend of affairs, the opinion of a foreign observer, Gneist--"History of the English Constitution"--may be quoted:--

England, too, will experience the fact that the transition to the
new order of industrial society is brought about through a process
of dissolution of the old cohesions, upon which the constitution of
Parliament is based. The unrepresented social mass, which is now
flooding the substructure of the English Constitution, will only
stay its course at a universal suffrage, and a thorough and
arithmetical equalization of the constituencies, and will thus
attempt, and in a great measure achieve, a further dissolution of
the elective bodies. To meet the coming storm a certain fusion of
the old parties seems to be immediately requisite, though the
propertied classes, in defending their possessions, will certainly
not at first display their best qualities. As, further, a regular
formation in two parties cannot be kept up, a splitting up into
fractions, as in the parliaments of the Continent, will ensue, and
the changing of the ministry will modify itself accordingly, so
that the Crown will no longer be able to commit the helm of the
state in simple alternation to the leader of the one or the other
majority. And then a time will recur in which the _King in Council_
may have to undertake the actual leadership. (Vol. ii., pp. 452,
453.)

In other words, that an industrial society is incapable of self-government! Note the reason for this remarkable conclusion--a splitting up into fractions, _i.e._, imperfect organization.

Take now the evidence of the distinguished historian and publicist, Mr. W.E.H. Leeky, M.P., as given in his recent work on "Democracy and Liberty":--

After all due weight has been given to the possible remedies that
have been considered, it still seems to me that the parliamentary
system, when it rests on manhood suffrage, or something closely
approaching to manhood suffrage, is extremely unlikely to be
permanent. This was evidently the opinion of Tocqueville, who was
strongly persuaded that the natural result of democracy was a
highly concentrated, enervating, but mild despotism. It is the
opinion of many of the most eminent contemporary thinkers in France
and Germany, and it is, I think, steadily growing in England. This
does not mean that parliaments will cease, or that a wide suffrage
will be abolished. It means that parliaments, if constructed on
this type, cannot permanently remain the supreme power among the
nations of the world. Sooner or later they will sink by their own
vices and inefficiencies into a lower plane. They will lose the
power of making and unmaking ministries, and it will be found
absolutely necessary to establish some strong executive
independently of their fluctuations. Very probably this executive
may be established, as in America and under the French Empire, upon
a broad basis of an independent suffrage. Very possibly upper
chambers, constituted upon some sagacious plan, will again play a
great restraining and directing part in the government of the
world. Few persons who have watched the changes that have passed
over our own House of Commons within the last few years will either
believe or wish that in fifty years' time it can exercise the power
it now does. It is only too probable that some great catastrophe or
the stress of a great war may accelerate the change. (Vol. i., pp.
300, 301.)

And the reason assigned for this very unsatisfactory state of affairs is precisely as before:

All the signs of the times point to the probability in England as
elsewhere of many ministries resting on precarious majorities
formed out of independent or heterogeneous groups. There are few
conditions less favourable to the healthy working of parliamentary
institutions or in which the danger of an uncontrolled House of
Commons is more evident. One consequence of this disintegration of
Parliament is a greatly increasing probability that policies which
the nation does not really wish for may be carried into effect. The
process which the Americans call "log-rolling" becomes very easy.
One minority will agree to support the objects of another minority
on condition of receiving in return a similar assistance, and a
number of small minorities aiming at different objects, no one of
which is really desired by the majority of the nation, may attain
their several ends by forming themselves into a political syndicate
and mutually co-operating. (Vol. i., pp. 152, 153.)

Mr. Lecky, too, holds out very little hope for the future:--

When the present evils infecting our parliamentary system have
grown still graver; when a democratic House, more and more broken
up into small groups, more and more governed by sectional and
interested motives, shall have shown itself evidently incompetent
to conduct the business of the country with honour, efficiency, and
safety; when the public has learned more fully the enormous danger
to national prosperity as well as individual happiness of
dissociating power from property and giving the many an unlimited
right of confiscating by taxation the possessions of the few--some
great reconstruction of government is sure to be demanded. Fifty or
even twenty-five years hence the current of political opinion in
England will be as different from that of our own day as
contemporary political tendencies are different from those in the
generation of our fathers. Experience and arguments that are now
dismissed may then revive, and play no small part in the politics
of the future.

Why make democracy the scapegoat for all these evils, when they are simply due to the imperfect organization of democracy? In any case, the most that could rightly be urged would be that universal suffrage had come before its time. The conclusion that its time will never come is certainly not warranted. Universal suffrage cannot be condemned till it has had a fair trial under a rational system of election. Mr. Lecky appreciates so little the connection between the method of election and the splitting up into groups that he views without alarm the Hare system, which would still further develop groups.

But perhaps no one has caught the spirit of party government more truly than Mr. Lecky. Dealing with the motives which should actuate the statesman, in his latest work, "The Map of Life," he writes:--

In free countries party government is the best if not the only way
of conducting public affairs, but it is impossible without a large
amount of moral compromise; without a frequent surrender of private
judgment and will. A good man will choose his party through
disinterested motives, and with a firm and honest conviction that
it represents the cast of policy most beneficial to the country. He
will on grave occasions assert his independence of party, but in
the large majority of cases he must act with his party, even if
they are pursuing courses in some degree contrary to his own
judgment.

Everyone who is actively engaged in politics--everyone especially
who is a member of the House of Commons--must soon learn that if
the absolute independence of individual judgment were pushed to its
extreme, political anarchy would ensue. The complete concurrence of
a large number of independent judgments in a complicated measure is
impossible. If party government is to be carried on there must be,
both in the Cabinet and in Parliament, perpetual compromise. The
first condition of its success is that the Government should have a
stable, permanent, disciplined support behind it, and in order that
this should be attained the individual member must in most cases
vote with his party. Sometimes he must support a measure which he
knows to be bad, because its rejection would involve a change of
government, which he believes would be a still greater evil than
its acceptance, and in order to prevent this evil he may have to
vote a direct negative to some resolution containing a statement
which he believes to be true, (p. 112.)

Mr. Lecky goes on to point out that "many things have to be done from which a very rigid and austere nature would recoil;" but he adds:--"Those who refuse to accept the conditions of parliamentary life should abstain from entering into it." Moreover, he holds that "inconsistency is no necessary condemnation of a politician, and parties as well as individual statesmen have abundantly shown it." But still "all this curious and indispensable mechanism of party government is compatible with a high and genuine sense of public duty."

The American theory of government is that checks must be placed on a democratic legislature by a fixed Constitution and a separate executive exercising a veto. The late Professor Freeman Snow, of Harvard University, was a strong supporter of this school. His objections to cabinet government are given in the "Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science" for July, 1892:--

Cabinet government is the government of a party; and for its
successful operation it must have at all times a majority at its
back in Parliament. If it were possible to direct the current of
public opinion into exactly two channels, there would be but two
parties, one of which would generally be in the ascendency; but in
practice this is found to be a very difficult thing to accomplish,
and it becomes the more difficult as the right of suffrage is
extended to the mass of the people, with their ever-varying
interests. In the countries of continental Europe parties, if
indeed they may be said to exist, are broken up into groups, no two
or more of which ever act together for any considerable length of
time; and ministries are without a moment's notice confronted at
brief intervals with opposing majorities, and must give place to
others, whose tenure of office is, however, equally unstable and
ephemeral. There is no other alternative; one of the two great
parties must yield to any faction which becomes strong enough to
hold the balance of power between them, or suffer the inevitable
consequences--instability and impotence of government.

Dr. Snow evidently thought that it is not possible to direct the current of public opinion into exactly two channels. He certainly had not the slightest idea that it might be a matter of electoral machinery.

Finally, we may quote the opinion of Mr. James Bryce, M.P., whose "American Commonwealth" is one of the most complete studies of the tendencies of democracy in existence. Comparing the English and American systems, he writes of the former:--

That system could not be deemed to have reached its maturity till
the power of the people at large had been established by the Reform
Act of 1832. For its essence resides in the delicate equipoise it
creates between the three powers, the ministry, the House of
Commons, and the people. The House is strong because it can call
the ministry to account for every act, and can by refusing supplies
compel their resignation. The ministry are not defenceless, because
they can dissolve Parliament, and ask the people to judge between
it and them. Parliament, when it displaces a ministry, does not
strike at executive authority; it merely changes its agents. The
ministry when they dissolve Parliament do not attack Parliament as
an institution; they recognise the supremacy of the body in asking
the country to change the individuals who compose it. Both the
House of Commons and the ministry act and move in the full view of
the people, who sit as arbiters, prepared to judge in any
controversy that may arise. The House is in touch with the people,
because every member must watch the lights and shadows of sentiment
which play over his own constituency. The ministry are in touch
with the people, because they are not only themselves
representatives, but are heads of a great party, sensitive to its
feelings, forced to weigh the effect of every act they do upon the
confidence which the party places in them.... The drawback to this
system of exquisite equipoise is the liability of its equilibrium
to be frequently disturbed, each disturbance involving either a
change of government, with immense temporary inconvenience to the
departments, or a general election, with immense expenditure of
money and trouble in the country. It is a system whose successful
working presupposes the existence of two great parties and no more,
parties each strong enough to restrain the violence of the other,
yet one of them steadily predominant in any given House of Commons.
Where a third, perhaps a fourth, party appears, the conditions are
changed. The scales of Parliament oscillate as the weight of this
detached group is thrown on one side or the other; dissolutions
become more frequent, and even dissolutions may fail to restore
stability. The recent history of the French Republic has shown the
difficulties of working a Chamber composed of groups, nor is the
same source of difficulty unknown in England. (Vol. i., pp. 286,
287.)

Thus we find the opinion unanimously held that the one great fault to which cabinet government is liable is instability of the ministry, owing to imperfect organization of public opinion into two definite lines of policy. Bagehot called it a case of unstable equilibrium, and Bradford, in "The Lesson of Popular Government," goes further when he declares:--"Not to speak disrespectfully, the ministry is like a company of men who, after excessive conviviality, are able to stand upright only by holding on to each other."

Yet, after all, the amount of stability simply depends on the state of organization; and England has demonstrated in the golden period of her political history (about the middle of the present century) that the cabinet form of government can be quite as stable as the presidential form. Therefore, if the present position gives cause for alarm, it is not in the abolition of the cabinet or the restriction of the suffrage that the remedy must be sought, but in improved organization. And this, we hope to show, involves improved electoral machinery.

+France.+--Turn to France. Is there no lesson to be drawn from the history of that unstable country since the Revolution let loose its flood of human passions, ambitions, and aspirations? Has not every attempt at popular government failed for the same cause--want of organization?

France before the Revolution had groaned for centuries under the burden of a decayed feudalism and an absolute monarchy. The last vestige of constitutional forms had disappeared. The representatives of the estates had not been convened since the meeting of the States-General in 1614. The widespread and unprecedented misery of the people caused them to revolt against being taxed without their consent, and a cry went up for a convocation of the estates. The finances were in such a bad way that Louis XVI. was forced to consent, and the three estates--clergy, nobles, and commons--met at Versailles in 1789. At first they called themselves the National Assembly, but the King foolishly took up such a position with regard to the people's representatives that they swore solemnly that they would not separate till they had laid the foundation of a new Constitution, and henceforth were known as the Constituent Assembly. It was determined that the King should no longer be absolute, and the choice lay between a constitutional monarchy and a republic. The Declaration of the Rights of Man was first drawn up, and the Assembly settled down to its task. The leading spirit was Mirabeau. He had been to England, and had studied the British Constitution, and he rightly saw that France was too distracted by faction to maintain an independent executive. He therefore openly advocated a constitutional monarchy with a cabinet chosen from among the majority of the representatives. But, unfortunately, the Assembly refused to follow his lead; nor would the King take his advice to make a separate appeal to the people. In the midst of the negotiations Mirabeau died, and the last chance of establishing a constitutional monarchy disappeared. The King realized this, and tried to escape to the German frontier but was brought back. He then accepted the new Constitution, and the Legislative Assembly was elected in 1791. From the first it had no elements of stability, being split up into groups, and subject to the fear of the Paris mob. The King continued to plot with the emigrant nobles against the Constitution, and the foreign armies massed on the frontier. The danger brought on the triumph of the revolutionary spirit in 1792. The Paris commune overwhelmed both the King and the Assembly, and the republic was proclaimed. Then followed the execution of the King, the Reign of Terror, the control of the Committee of Public Safety, till finally the anarchy was ended by the military despotism of Bonaparte, who became First Consul and afterwards Emperor.

What is the significance of these events in the light of our previous examination of English history? Simply this: That the French, in passing at once from absolutism and feudalism to complete self-government, were trying to jump to the Second stage of representation without passing through the first stage. Mirabeau was right; the republic was foredoomed to failure because the people had learned neither the power of nor the necessity for organization.

In many respects the French Revolution parallels the English Revolution. In each case the King was beheaded; in each case the anarchy of a disorganized representative body was succeeded by a military despotism; and in each case the monarchy was restored.

It was after the restoration that the English system of party government was developed. Why did this system not now take root in France? Partly because France was not blessed with a king like William of Orange, and partly because the new _systeme de bascule_, the balance system, in which the king allows each faction in turn to hold the reins of power, was discovered. So, instead of the gradual growth of constitutional liberty which took place in England, the tendency in France was back to absolutism. In 1830 Charles X., finding that he could not manage the Chamber of Deputies, issued the ordinances of St. Cloud, suspending the liberty of the press and dissolving the Legislature. Paris immediately broke out into insurrection, and the King was forced to abdicate. The crown was offered to Louis Philippe, and a second attempt at constitutional monarchy was made. But France was too divided by her unfortunate legacy of faction to maintain a continuous policy. The Legitimists, the Republicans, and the Bonapartists were all awaiting their opportunity. In 1848 the second revolution broke out in Paris; the king fled to England, and a republic was again tried. But the imperialist idea revived when Louis Napoleon was elected President. In 1851 he carried out his famous _coup d'etat,_ and again the Constitution was swept away. In the following year he was accepted as Emperor by an almost unanimous vote. Thus France again elected to be ruled by an irresponsible head. The Third Empire ended with the capture of Napoleon III. at Sedan in 1870, and since then France has carried on her third experiment in republicanism. But still the fatal defect of disorganization retards her progress; the Legislature is still split up into contending factions, and in consequence it has been found impossible to maintain a strong executive. Occasionally the factions sink their differences for a time when their patriotism is appealed to, as they have agreed to do during the currency of the present Exhibition, but it is abundantly evident that France can never be well governed till the people are able to organize two coherent parties. There is ground for hope that the monarchical and imperialist ideas are declining, and that the people are settling down to the conviction that there is nothing left but the republic. What makes recovery difficult is that the national character has been affected by the continual strife in the direction of excitability and desire for change.

Those who wish to understand the forces which brought about the different changes and revolutions, traced by one who has grasped their meaning, should read the account in the first volume of Mr. Bradford's "Lesson of Popular Government." His conclusion only need be quoted here:--

As has been said, that which constitutes the strength of the
English. Government, that which has made up its history for the
last two hundred years, is the growth and continuity of two solid
and coherent parties. Occasionally they have wavered when available
leaders and issues were wanting, but as soon as a strong man came
forward to take the reins the ranks closed up and the work of
mutual competition again went on. On the other hand, the curse and
the cause of failure of representative government on the Continent
of Europe is the formation within the legislature of unstable and
dissolving groups. In France the Extreme Eight, the Eight, the
Eight Centre, the Left Centre, the Left, and the Extreme Left are
names of differing factions which unite only for temporary purposes
and to accomplish a victory over some other unit, but which are
fatal to stable and firm government. The same is true of Italy,
Spain, and Austria, and if not of Germany it is because military
despotism holds all alike in subjection.

Mr. Bodley has come to the same conclusion in his work on "France." He writes:--

There is no restraining power in the French parliamentary system to
arrest a member on his easy descent, and he knows that if he
escapes penal condemnation he will enjoy relative impunity. Many
deputies are men of high integrity; but virtue in a large assembly
is of small force without organization, and, moreover, a group of
legislators leagued together as a vigilance committee would have
neither consistency nor durability, which the discipline of party
can alone effect. Corruption of this kind, which has undermined the
republic, could not co-exist with party government. A party whose
ministers or supporters had incurred as much suspicion as fell on
the politicians acquitted in the Panama affair would under it be
swept out of existence for a period. When the first denunciations
appeared, the leaders of the party, to avert that fate, would have
said to their implicated colleagues--"In spite of your abilities
and of the manifest exaggeration of these charges we must part
company, for though you may have been culpable only of
indiscretion, we cannot afford to be identified with doubtful
transactions;" and the Opposition, eager not to lose its vantage,
would scan with equal keenness the acts of its own members. With
party government the electorate would not have appeared to condone
those scandals. But as it was, when a deputy involved in them went
down before his constituents, whose local interest he had well
served, with no opponent more formidable than the nominee of some
decayed or immature group, they gave their votes to the old member,
whose influence with the prefecture in the past had benefited the
district, rather than to the new comer, whose denunciations had no
authority; whereas, had each electoral district been the scene of a
contest between organized parties, the same spectacle would not
have been presented." (Vol. ii., pp. 302, 303.)

Mr. Bodley has, in this last sentence, touched the heart of the problem. If the salvation of France depends on making each electoral district the scene of a contest between two organized parties, is not electoral machinery destined to play an important part in the solution?

+The United States.+--The third great experiment in representative democracy which the nineteenth century has furnished is that which is being conducted in the United States. The contrast with France is remarkable. Just as France is the supreme example of want of organization, so America is the most conspicuous instance of perfect organization into two great national parties which the world has seen. Yet both experiments were started by a revolution, and practically at the same time. The difference lay in the fact that the Americans inherited the capacity for self-government from their British ancestors, and had already practised it in colonial times, while the French only inherited innumerable causes of dissension.

But organization is not the only characteristic feature of American politics. Strange to say, it is accompanied by a suppression of individuality just as complete. It is organization without responsible leadership. For, in the first place, the politicians look on themselves not as leaders but as followers of the people; and in the second place, there are no leaders in Congress, corresponding to the cabinet ministers of British countries.

Now, the view which we wish to emphasize here is that the present position of American politics is the natural result of the principles embodied in the Constitution adopted in 1789, when the Union was formed. The complete organization and the want of leadership are directly to be traced to the labours of George Washington and his associates. A brief glance at the Constitution and the early history of its working will make this clear.

The thirteen States which revolted from England worked fairly well together under the "Articles of Confederation and Perpetual Union" as long as the war lasted, but as soon as peace was proclaimed it was, as Washington said, no better than anarchy. The famous Convention of 1787 was therefore held, and the Constitution was drawn up. One guiding principle of its framers was to divide power so as to place checks on the will of the people, and on outbursts of popular passion, which were then greatly dreaded. One means of attaining this object was the attempted separation of the legislative and executive functions. We say attempted advisedly, for time has but shown that the two are inseparable. But the framers of the Constitution divided the legislative function between the two Houses, and vested the executive function almost entirely, as they thought, in the President. Montesquieu, in his "_Esprit des Lois_" had laid down that the great merit of the English Constitution was the separation of these functions, and the Americans accepted this view. But, in truth, the English cabinet system had not then been fully developed. The King was still, not only in appearance, but to some extent also in fact, the head of the executive, and there was nothing to indicate that ministers were so soon to become the real leaders.

The effect of this provision was a struggle between the two branches for supremacy, and the legislatures have won. The President has been degraded to a mere agent, and the legislatures have absorbed the greater part of executive functions, even to the control of finance. Now, the framers of the Constitution were apprehensive that the President might become a mere party agent, and they tried to strengthen his position by two devices. First, they gave him the power to veto statutes unless overruled by a two-thirds majority of Congress; and, secondly, they provided for his election by an electoral college, or by a double system of election. This second provision was designed to ensure the election of a President for personal instead of for party reasons; but it has proved a complete failure. Almost from the first the electoral delegates have had to pledge themselves to support the party nominee. The veto, therefore, has also become practically useless. Thus it has come about that Congress is a body entirely without leaders.

A second defect in the Constitution was that it said nothing about the right of any State to withdraw from the Union. After nearly 70 years this omission was responsible for the Civil War. The legal basis for secession was then abandoned, but combinations of States have since been regarded with the greatest apprehension. This conviction that the Union must be maintained at any price has had very important consequences on the party system. The danger of allowing combinations of States to dominate party lines was demonstrated; and the division of each State by the same national parties was recognized as essential to safety.

In the meantime, as we have seen, Congress had practically got control of the executive functions, which were supposed to be exercised by the President, including the nominations to office. Thus every member of the party in a majority had a share of the plunder, and "the spoils to the victors" became the basis of party organization. The system soon underwent such a remarkable development that nearly 200,000 public offices were at the disposal of the victors at each election. The party organizations immediately became omnipotent. The secret of their power lay in the control of nominations. Each party would nominate one candidate only, and the electors voted neither for men nor measures, but blindly for party. As Mr. Bryce declares:--"The class of professional politicians was therefore the first crop which the spoils system--the system of using public office as private prize of war--bore. Bosses were the second crop."

The development which these party organizations have now reached is extraordinary. Practically we may say that there are only two parties--Republicans and Democrats--and they dominate not only Federal and State politics but also city government. Each party has its list of registered electors, and each holds a primary election before the real election, to decide the party candidate. But these primary elections are a mere matter of form. Only a small fraction of the electors attend them, and only those who have always supported the party are allowed to vote. The nominations are therefore really controlled, by fraud if necessary, by the "ring" of party managers. Generally there is one man who can pull the most strings, and he becomes the "boss." All power is centred in the hands of this irresponsible despot. The men who are elected owe their positions to him, and are responsible to him, not to the public.

Remember that these "machine" organizations have absolute sway in every electorate, from one end of the United States to the other. It may be wondered why the people tolerate them, but they are powerless. Sometimes an independent movement is attempted, but it very rarely succeeds, and even when it does the two "machines" combine against it and agree to divide the spoils. Mr. Bryce writes:--

The disgust is less than a European expects, for it is mingled
with amusement. The "boss" is a sort of joke, albeit an expensive
joke. "After all," people say, "it is our own fault. If we all went
to the primaries, or if we all voted an independent ticket, we
could make an end of the 'boss.'" There is a sort of fatalism in
their view of democracy. (Vol ii., p. 241.)

What is the meaning of all this wonderful party machinery? It is this: that organization without responsible leadership can only be founded on corruption. In other words, _the spoils system is the price which the United States pay for maintaining the Union under the present Constitution_. The fault lies ultimately, therefore, in the Constitution, which tends to repress responsible leadership.

Now, the mass of public opinion in America, as Mr. Bryce continually points out, is sound, and attempts have not been wanting to put an end to the system of rotation in public offices. A sustained agitation for civil service reform was entered upon, and the system of competitive examination was applied to a large number of offices. Now at last, the reformers thought, American politics would be purified. But, no! The corruption, simply took a new and more alarming turn. Direct money contributions took the place of the spoils. It became the practice to levy blackmail on corporations either to be let alone, or for the purpose of fleecing the public. The monopolies granted to protected industries are the source of a large share of these "campaign funds." The Legislatures are crowded by professional lobbyists, and it is, in consequence, impossible to obtain justice against the corporations. Surely no stronger proof can be needed that corruption is and must remain the basis of organization so long as there is no responsible leadership.

It would be a mistake, however, to suppose that the Americans are not alive to the failure of their representative institutions. Since Mr. Bryce's great work on "The American Commonwealth" was published two books by American authors have appeared which are very outspoken in condemnation. These are "The Unforeseen Tendencies of Democracy," by Mr. E.L. Godkin; and "The Lesson of Popular Government," by Mr. Gamaliel Bradford. The keynote of the first of these two books is to abolish corruption by destroying the power of the "machine" and the "boss," and of the second to introduce responsible leadership. Mr. Godkin traces the disappearance of distinguished men from public life to the control of all entrance to it by the "machine." The reform of primary elections, he holds, is then the first necessity, since "independent voting" has ceased to be a remedy. But he fails to find a solution. The conclusion he comes to is as follows:--

Is the situation then hopeless? Are we tied up inexorably simply to
a choice of evils? I think not. It seems to me that the nomination
of candidates is another of the problems of democracy which are
never seriously attacked without prolonged perception and
discussion of their importance. One of these was the formation of
the federal government; another was the abolition of slavery;
another was the reform of the civil service. Every one of them
looked hopeless in the beginning; but the solution came in each
case, through the popular determination to find some better way.
(Pp. 92, 93.)

But the evil goes far deeper than Mr. Godkin appears to think. To abolish corruption is to take away the present basis of organization without substituting any other. If irresponsible leadership is to be abandoned, responsible leadership must be introduced. Mr. Bradford's plan, therefore, promises more, for if responsible leadership could be introduced into Congress corruption would then be abolished also.

Mr. Bradford's whole book may be said to be a study of the relations of the executive to the legislature, and the conclusions at which he arrives are a complete vindication of cabinet government. But he finds one fault, and that is the instability of ministries, which he confesses has not been apparent so far in the British House of Commons. He holds, however, that it will become more apparent with the rising tide of democracy. It is rather amusing to find that the greatest obstacle which has to be overcome in proposing a responsible executive is the veneration in which the Constitution is still held and the dislike to copying anything from England. His plan is, therefore, an adaptation of the cabinet to the conditions imposed by the Constitution. He holds that the ministers appointed by the President should sit in Congress and have control of the initiation of legislation. It is to be feared that this would hardly realize the idea of responsible leadership. Mr. Bradford establishes a chain of responsibility by the fact that the ministers are responsible to the President and the President is responsible to the people; but that is a very different thing to the continual responsibility of the cabinet to a majority of the legislature. It is probable that the President's ministers would have to encounter the opposition of a majority in one or both Houses, and it is difficult to see how a deadlock could be avoided. Mr. Bradford contemplates that the people would settle any issues which arise between the two branches at the end of the Presidential term of four years; but it is just as likely that there would then be a new President in any case. We are driven to the conclusion, therefore, that responsible leadership is incompatible with the American system of divided powers and fixed terms of office.

Mr. Bryce comments on the proposal as follows:--

It is hard to say, when one begins to make alterations in an old
house, how far one will be led on in rebuilding, and I doubt
whether this change in the present American system, possibly in
itself desirable, might not be found to involve a reconstruction
large enough to put a new face upon several parts of that system.
(Vol. i, pp. 290, 291.)

This is very true, but is not a new building required? Is not the old house built on a rotten foundation? Mr. Bradford has certainly overlooked the effect of his proposal on party organization for one thing. If the power over legislation, and especially over expenditure of public money, is to be taken away from the irresponsible committees of Congress, the basis of party organization would cease to be corruption, and both representatives and parties would have to take on an entirely new character. As to the present character of representatives, Mr. Bryce advances a number of reasons why the best men do not go in for politics, such as the want of a social and commercial capital, the residential qualification, the comparative dullness of politics, the attractiveness of other careers, &c, but Mr. Bradford declares that the one explanation which goes further than all these is the absorption of all the powers of the government by the legislature, and the consequent suppression of individuality. He writes:--

The voters are urged to send to Congress men of character, ability,
and public spirit. They might as well be asked to select men of
that quality to follow the profession of burglars, a comparison
which is not intended to convey any disrespect to the number of
honest and respectable men who constantly are sent to Congress.
Chosen as burglars, they would fail just the same in the
business.... It is the organization of Congress which offers every
facility to those who wish to buy and those who wish to be bought.

Again, as to the present character of parties, Mr. Bradford declares:--

The names of the two great parties, Republicans and Democrats, have
in themselves and at the present time no meaning at all.

Simply because the basis of organization is corruption, and not questions of public policy. For the same reason recent elections have been fought on popular "crazes," such as the silver question. But Mr. Bradford says:--

New parties cannot be formed on constantly changing issues, since
to have any strength they must have a certain degree of permanence.
The only two nations which have succeeded in forming great national
parties are Great Britain and the United States. In other European
countries the splitting into groups has almost made representative
government impossible.

What Mr. Bradford has failed to appreciate is that the absolutely rigid division into two camps which prevails in America is founded on corruption, and will disappear when corruption is abolished. In the United States such a thing as a Congressman deserting one party for the other is practically unknown. In Great Britain, on the contrary, party lines do continually change as new issues arise; and when they are founded on questions of public policy it must be so. What gives them permanence is that certain principles underlie most questions, and men who have the same political principles are likely to think the same on any single question; and further that a member would rather follow his party and sacrifice his opinion on a single question than sacrifice most of his principles.