own that I do not entirely sympathise with the horror of these
anomalies which haunts some of our best critics. It is natural that
those who by special and admirable culture have come to look at all
things upon the artistic side, should start back from these queer
peculiarities. But it is natural also that persons used to analyse
political institutions should look at these anomalies with a little
tenderness and a little interest. They MAY have something to teach us.
Political philosophy is still more imperfect; it has been framed from
observations taken upon regular specimens of politics and States; as to
these its teaching is most valuable. But we must ever remember that its
data are imperfect. The lessons are good where its primitive
assumptions hold, but may be false where those assumptions fail. A
philosophical politician regards a political anomaly as a scientific
physician regards a rare disease--it is to him an "interesting case".
There may still be instruction here, though we have worked out the
lessons of common cases. I cannot, therefore, join in the full cry
against anomalies; in my judgment it may quickly overrun the scent, and
so miss what we should be glad to find.
Subject to this saving remark, however, I not only admit, but maintain,
that our Constitution is full of curious oddities, which are impeding
and mischievous, and ought to be struck out. Our law very often reminds
one of those outskirts of cities where you cannot for a long time tell
how the streets come to wind about in so capricious and serpent-like a
manner. At last it strikes you that they grew up, house by house, on
the devious tracks of the old green lanes; and if you follow on to the
existing fields, you may often find the change half complete. Just so
the lines of our Constitution were framed in old eras of sparse
population, few wants, and simple habits; and we adhere in seeming to
their shape, though civilisation has come with its dangers,
complications, and enjoyments. These anomalies, in a hundred instances,
mark the old boundaries of a constitutional struggle. The casual line
was traced according to the strength of deceased combatants; succeeding
generations fought elsewhere; and the hesitating line of a half-drawn
battle was left to stand for a perpetual limit.
I do not count as an anomaly the existence of our double government,
with all its infinite accidents, though half the superficial
peculiarities that are often complained of arise out of it. The
co-existence of a Queen's seeming prerogative and a Downing Street's
real government is just suited to such a country as this, in such an
age as ours.[13]
[13] So well is our real government concealed, that if you tell a
cabman to drive to "Downing Street," he most likely will never have
heard of it, and will not in the least know where to take you. It is
only a "disguised republic".
[The End]
End of Project Gutenberg's The English Constitution, by Walter Bagehot