The English Constitution

Walter Bagehot

1867

A penetrating analysis of how the British constitution actually works, distinguishing between its theatrical "dignified" parts and its working "efficient" parts. Bagehot's insights into the psychology of political authority remain essential reading.

Introduction

There is a great difficulty in the way of a writer who attempts to sketch a living Constitution—a Constitution that is in actual work and power. The difficulty is that the object is in constant change. An intelligent person who had never heard of the English Constitution might easily suppose that it was a thing made by some Lycurgus, at some special date, and handed down to his successors unaltered. But the English Constitution has not been made; it has grown.

No one can approach to an understanding of the English institutions, or of others which, being the growth of many centuries, exercise a wide sway over mixed populations, unless he divides them into two classes. In such constitutions there are two parts: first, those which excite and preserve the reverence of the population—the dignified parts, if I may so call them; and next, the efficient parts—those by which it, in fact, works and rules.

"Every constitution must first gain authority, and then use authority; it must first win the loyalty and confidence of mankind, and then employ that homage in the work of government."

Every constitution must first gain authority, and then use authority; it must first win the loyalty and confidence of mankind, and then employ that homage in the work of government. There are two great objects which every constitution must attain to be successful, which every old and celebrated one must have wonderfully achieved: every constitution must first gain authority, and then use authority.

The Cabinet

The efficient secret of the English Constitution may be described as the close union, the nearly complete fusion, of the executive and legislative powers. No doubt by the traditional theory, as it exists in all the books, the goodness of our constitution consists in the entire separation of the legislative and executive authorities, but in truth its merit consists in their singular approximation. The connecting link is the Cabinet.

"The efficient secret of the English Constitution may be described as the close union, the nearly complete fusion, of the executive and legislative powers."

By that new word we mean a committee of the legislative body selected to be the executive body. The legislature has many committees, but this is its greatest. It chooses for this, its main committee, the men in whom it has most confidence. It does not, it is true, choose them directly; but it is nearly omnipotent in choosing them indirectly.

A century ago the Crown had a real choice of Ministers, though it had no longer a choice in policy. During the long reign of Sir Robert Walpole he was obliged not only to manage Parliament but to manage the Palace. He was obliged to take care that some court intrigue did not expel him from his place. The nation then selected the English policy, but the Crown chose the English Ministers.

They were not only combating the views, but were appointed by the will, of the sovereign. George III succeeded for a time in reversing this change, and in establishing his own will as the ruling force in the State. But his success was transient; and ever since, the substantial power has been in the chosen leader of the House of Commons.

The Cabinet, in a word, is a board of control chosen by the legislature, out of persons whom it trusts and knows, to rule the nation. The particular mode in which the English Ministers are selected; the ## tenure by which they hold their offices; the party organization by which they work with one another; the party connection which binds them together: all these are arrangements for eliciting and for employing the confidence of the legislature.

"The Cabinet is a combining committee—a hyphen which joins, a buckle which fastens, the legislative part of the State to the executive part of the State."

The Cabinet, in a word, is a combining committee—a hyphen which joins, a buckle which fastens, the legislative part of the State to the executive part of the State. In its origin it belongs to the one, in its functions it belongs to the other.

The American System Compared

The American Government calls itself a Government of the supreme people; but at a quick crisis, the time when a sovereign power is most needed, you cannot find the supreme people. You have got a Congress elected for one fixed period, going out perhaps by fixed instalments, which cannot be accelerated or retarded—you have a President chosen for a fixed period, and immovable during that period: all the sinews of the State are rigid.

But in England we have got a living, moving, thinking thing, a creature of the moment, which can be created, modified, or destroyed at the moment's pleasure. We have no fixed, dead, pre-arranged, inflexible set of ideas. We have a free, changing, creative mind.

The English system, therefore, is not a Presidential system, in which the head of the State is absolute for a term; nor is it a Congressional system, in which the legislature is absolute for a term. It is a system in which the legislature chooses the executive government, and in which the legislature may displace it.

"The Americans of 1787 thought they were copying the English Constitution, but they were contriving a contrast to it."

The Americans of 1787 thought they were copying the English Constitution, but they were contriving a contrast to it. Just as the English Cabinet is the English executive, chosen by the legislature, so the American President ought to be the American Cabinet—a committee of the legislature chosen by it. But the Americans made their executive independent of their legislature.

The Monarchy

The use of the Queen, in a dignified capacity, is incalculable. Without her in England, the present English Government would fail and pass away. Most people when they read that the Queen walked on the slopes at Windsor—that the Prince of Wales went to the Derby—have imagined that too much thought and prominence were given to little things. But they have been in error; and it is nice to trace how the actions of a retired widow and an unemployed youth become of such importance.

The best reason why Monarchy is a strong government is that it is an intelligible government. The mass of mankind understand it, and they hardly anywhere in the world understand any other. It is often said that men are ruled by their imaginations; but it would be truer to say they are governed by the weakness of their imaginations.

"A family on the throne is an interesting idea. It brings down the pride of sovereignty to the level of petty life."

A family on the throne is an interesting idea also. It brings down the pride of sovereignty to the level of petty life. No feeling could seem more childish than the enthusiasm of the English at the marriage of the Prince of Wales. They treated as a great political event what, looked at as a matter of pure business, was very small indeed. But no feeling could be more like common human nature as it is, and as it is likely to be.

The women—one half the human race at least—care fifty times more for a marriage than a ministry. All but a few cynics like to see a pretty novel touching for a moment the place of reality. A princely marriage is the brilliant edition of a universal fact, and as such it rivets mankind.

We have come to regard the Crown as the head of our morality. We have come to believe that it is natural to have a virtuous sovereign, and that domestic virtues are as likely to be found on thrones as they are eminent when there. But a little experience and a little thought would teach us that royalty cannot take credit for domestic excellence. A select family may have an inherited excellence, but it is more likely to have an inherited vice.

The Sovereign has, under a constitutional monarchy such as ours, three rights—the right to be consulted, the right to encourage, the right to warn. And a king of great sense and sagacity would want no others. He would find that his having no others would enable him to use these with singular effect.

"The Sovereign has three rights—the right to be consulted, the right to encourage, the right to warn. And a king of great sense and sagacity would want no others."

The House of Lords

The House of Lords has many uses. It has the use of a reservoir. Just as you may send an abnormal quantity of water into a reservoir, so in time of agitation you can send abnormal and violent measures to the House of Lords, and they will be there retained, diminished, cooled, and so pass on, not as they came in, hot and violent, but as cold, mild, and moderate.

"It has the use of a reservoir... in time of agitation you can send abnormal and violent measures to the House of Lords, and they will be there retained, diminished, cooled."

Its danger is, to be sure, corresponding. The reservoir may be too big—it may keep back what ought to go on—it may preserve what ought to change. This evil has happened often in aristocratic countries. But it has not happened as yet in England, and there is fair reason to hope it will not.

The House of Lords, being a principal part of the theatrical exhibition of society, is bound, if it be wise, not too glaringly to oppose itself to the wishes of society. It will yield when the opinion of the nation is strong. It may resist what it will; but it must acquiesce when the popular sentiment is decided.

But though the House of Lords has, as I believe, substantial uses, being an impediment upon change and an incentive to change too, yet these uses are not generally perceived; if they were it would be difficult to discuss them. The conspicuous use of the House of Lords—the use which men see, which men go to watch—is theatrical. The House of Lords is a kind of sentinel to guard the State; a force ever ready against popular excitement.

The House of Commons

The House of Commons has five principal functions. First, it is elective; it is the assembly which chooses our president. Secondly, it is what I may call an expressive function. It is the great mouth-piece of the English people; and it ought to express the wishes of the English people. Thirdly, there is the teaching function. A great and open council of considerable men cannot be placed in the middle of a society without altering that society.

Fourth, there is the informing function. In old times one main advantage of Parliament was that it brought together the people of the country for the purpose of telling the executive what it needed to know. The House of Commons is still the best instrument for that purpose. Lastly, there is the function of legislation, of which of course it would be preposterous to deny the great importance.

"A great and open council of considerable men cannot be placed in the middle of a society without altering that society."

I say these are the functions of Parliament, not that Parliament perfectly discharges them, but that in a rough way it does discharge them, and that no other institution could discharge them at all. The elective is now the most important function of the House of Commons. It is the assembly which chooses our president.

A principal and most important function of the House of Commons is what I may call the expressive. It is the duty of Parliament to express the mind of the English people on all matters which come before it. Whether Parliament does so or not, whether the thought of the electors is the same as the thought of the elected, no one can say. But at least it can be said that no other institution in England can express the opinion of the English nation.

A principal and valuable function of the House of Commons is what may be called the informing function. In old times the House of Commons told the Crown what was amiss in the nation, what laws were wanted, and what was needed. And this is a function which might be discharged by a smaller assembly—by a Committee of the House of Commons; but that Committee would not have the respect and the weight that belongs to the entire House.

The Prerequisites of Cabinet Government

The practical choice of the English people lies between the Presidential government and the Parliamentary; no other is before them. And the conditions necessary for a Parliamentary government are rare.

First, it requires a people of high mental quality, capable of choosing well, capable of deciding between competing minds. The numerical majority must be capable of choosing the best ruler. Most men are not capable of selecting their rulers, because they cannot fathom the character of a candidate. But if they are to choose between two policies, they must understand both policies; and to understand either policy they must have some power of analysis.

"A Parliamentary government requires a people of high mental quality, capable of choosing well, capable of deciding between competing minds."

Secondly, it requires what I may call a calm national mind—a sort of neutral tint of mind capable of receiving many impressions without retaining very vividly any impression. The English people are peculiarly fitted for a free government. They are not irritable; they are not easily excited. They have not the excitability which is the special characteristic of the Celtic race.

Thirdly, there must be what I may call a deferential nation. The English masses are not only calm, but they are also deferential. They will submit to be ruled by their betters; they do not rebel against the decisions of their natural leaders. This is the one main requisite of a Parliamentary government, and without it no Parliamentary government can exist.

The Dangers of Democracy

I am exceedingly afraid of the ignorant multitude of the new constituencies. I wish to have as great and as compact a power as possible to resist it. But a dissension between the Lords and the Commons divides that resisting power; and therefore I think it impairs the principal security we have against an immense and new danger.

The House of Commons, as long as it keeps the confidence of the moderate and central portion of the country, ought in all important matters to be allowed to dictate. The House of Lords ought to yield to the Commons when the Commons are backed by the nation.

"In every state there is a certain set of persons who are 'efficient'—who can work in its polity—and there is a set who are not."

In every state there is a certain set of persons who are 'efficient'—who can work in its polity—and there is a set who are not. In America the efficient class is that of self-made men; in England it is a great deal that of hereditary landowners. One may like one sort better than another, but it is absurd to say one or the other is illegitimate or wrong.

The most important faculty of the House of Commons is the faculty of dismissing the ministry of the day. It is a power which, if it were never exercised, would cease to be. The terror of dismissal keeps the ministry on its good behaviour. The knowledge that they may be dismissed at any moment is the great security which the nation has for good government.

Checks and Balances

The most curious point about the Cabinet is that so very little is known about it. The meetings are not only secret in theory, but secret in reality. By the present practice, no official minute of discussion is kept. Even a private note is thought to be hardly permissible.

The doctrine of Cabinet responsibility is not a check upon the Prime Minister. The Cabinet are his subordinates; they are appointed by him; they hold office only so long as he pleases. There is no check upon the Prime Minister except the check of opinion, the check of what his colleagues may think of him, the check of what the nation may think of him.

The theory of our Constitution is that the Cabinet is a committee appointed by the House of Commons, and that this committee appoints the Prime Minister. But the fact is that the Prime Minister is appointed by the Crown on the advice of the House of Commons, and he himself appoints his Cabinet.

"We have made, or rather stumbled on, a constitution which—though full of every species of incidental defect—yet has two capital merits: it contains a simple efficient part which can work, and it contains an august dignified part which excites the imagination."

We have made, or rather stumbled on, a constitution which—though full of every species of incidental defect, though of the worst workmanship in all out-of-the-way matters of any constitution in the world—yet has two capital merits: it contains a simple efficient part which, on occasion and when wanted, can work more simply and more easily, and better, than any instrument of government that has yet been tried; and it contains likewise historical, complex, august, theatrical parts, which it has inherited from a long past—which take the multitude—which guide by an insensible but an omnipotent influence the associations of its subjects.

Conclusion

The practical conclusion is that we have no right to be proud of our political philosophy. It is not the result of our labours. It is not even an inheritance from our fathers. It is a growth which has come to us, we know not how. It is not a result of thought; it is not even a result of habit. It is the result of the necessity which compelled us to combine what we found in the world with what we wanted, and to combine it so as to make it work.

The English Constitution is framed on the principle of choosing one single sovereign authority, and making it good: the American, upon the principle of having many sovereign authorities, and hoping that their multitude may atone for their inferiority. The English Constitution is framed on the principle of having one man or one body of men as the final authority; the American Constitution is framed on the principle of having many final authorities.

The characteristic merit of the English Constitution is that its dignified parts are very complicated and somewhat imposing, very old and rather venerable; while its efficient part, at least when in great and critical action, is decidedly simple and rather modern. We have made, or rather stumbled on, a constitution which—though full of every species of incidental defect—yet has these two capital merits.

The first requisite of all government is that its subjects should have confidence in it. It does not matter what form the government takes, provided only that its subjects believe in it. No people can govern themselves if they do not believe in their government. The history of the world shows that the best governments are those which have grown up gradually, which have accommodated themselves to circumstances, which have not been framed on any abstract principles.

Bagehot's analysis cut through centuries of constitutional mythology to reveal how the British system actually functioned. His distinction between dignified and efficient parts of government remains essential to understanding constitutional systems, and his warnings about the dangers of an uninstructed democracy have proven prophetic. The book remains required reading for students of political science and constitutional law.

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