It is evident why public debate is the very breath of life to such a

system. The Ministry's tenure of office depends upon the success of the

legislation they urge. If any of their proposals are negatived by

parliament, they are bound to accept their defeat as an intimation that

their administration is no longer acceptable to the party they

represent, and are expected to resign, or to appeal, if they prefer, to

the country for its verdict, by exercising their privilege of advising

the sovereign to dissolve parliament and issue writs for a new election.

It is, consequently, inevitable that the Ministry should be subjected to

the most determined attacks and the keenest criticisms of the

Opposition, and should be every day of the session put to the task of

vindicating their course and establishing anew their claim to the

confidence of their party. To shrink from discussion would be to confess

weakness; to suffer themselves to be worsted in discussion would be

seriously to imperil their power. They must look to it, therefore, not

only that their policy be defensible, but that it be valiantly defended

also.

As might be expected, then, the Ministry seldom find the task of leading

the House an easy one. Their plans are kept under an unceasing fire of

criticism from both sides of the House; for there are independent

sharp-shooters behind the ministers as well as heavy batteries in front

of them; and there are many amongst their professed followers who give

aid and comfort to the enemy. There come ever and again showers of

stinging questions, too, from friends and foes alike,--questions great

and small, direct and indirect, pertinent and impertinent, concerning

every detail of administration and every tendency of policy.

But, although the initiative in legislation and the general direction of

the business of parliament are the undisputed prerogatives of "the

government," as the Ministry is called, they have not, of course, all

the time of the House at their disposal. During the session, certain

days of each week are set apart for the introduction and debate of bills

brought in by private members, who, at the opening of the session, draw

lots to decide the precedence of their bills or motions on the orders of

the day. If many draw, those who get last choice of time find the

session near its end, and private members' days being absorbed by

belated government measures, before their opportunity has come, and must

content themselves with hoping for better fortune next year; but time is

generally found for a very fair and full consideration of a large number

of private members' bills, and no member is denied a chance to air his

favorite opinions in the House or to try the patience of his

fellow-members by annual repetitions of the same proposition. Private

members generally find out by long experience, however, that they can

exert a more telling influence upon legislation by pressing amendments

to government schemes, and can effect more immediate and satisfactory

results by keeping the Ministry constantly in mind of certain phases of

public opinion, than they could hope to exert or effect by themselves

introducing measures upon which their party might hesitate to unite.

Living as he does under a system which makes it the minister's wisest

policy to allow the utmost freedom of debate, each member can take as

prominent a part in the proceedings of the House as his abilities give

him title to take. If he have anything which is not merely frivolous to

say, he will have repeated opportunities to say it; for the Commons

cough down only the bores and the talkers for the sake of talk.

The House of Commons, as well as our House of Representatives, has its

committees, even its standing committees, but they are of the

old-fashioned sort which merely investigate and report, not of the new

American type which originate and conduct legislation. Nor are they

appointed by the Speaker. They are chosen with care by a "Committee of

Selection" composed of members of both parties. The Speaker is kept

carefully apart from politics in all his functions, acting as the

impartial, judicial president of the body. "Dignity of presence,

courtliness of manner, great physical endurance, courage and

impartiality of judgment, a consummate tact, and familiarity, 'born of

life-long experience,' with the written and unwritten laws of the

House,"--such are the qualities of the ideal Speaker. When he takes the

chair he turns his back on partisan alliances and serves both parties

alike with even hand. Such are the traditions of the office that its

occupant feels himself as strictly bound to unbiased judgment as is the

chiefest judge of the realm; and it has become no uncommon thing for a

Speaker of tried ability to preside during several successive

Parliaments, whether the party to whose suffrages he originally owed his

elevation remains in power or no. His political principles do not affect

his fitness for judicial functions.

The Commons in session present an interesting picture. Constrained by

their habits of debate to sit in quarters suitable for the purpose, they

crowd together in a hall of somewhat cramped proportions. It seems a

place fit for hand to hand combats. The cushioned benches on which the

members sit rise in close series on either side of a wide central aisle

which they face. At one end of this aisle is raised the Speaker's chair,

below and in front of which, invading the spaces of the aisle, are the

desks of the wigged and gowned clerks. On the front benches nearest the

Speaker and to his right sit the cabinet ministers, the leaders of the

Government; opposite, on the front benches to the Speaker's left, sit

the leaders of the Opposition. Behind and to the right of the ministers

gather the majority; behind and to the left of their leaders, the

minority. Above the rear benches and over the outer aisles of the House,

beyond "the bar," hang deep galleries from which the outside world may

look down upon the eager contests of the two parties which thus sit face

to face with only the aisle between them. From these galleries the

fortunate listen to the words of leaders whose names fill the ear of the

world.

The organization of the French Assembly is in the main similar to that

of the British Commons. Its leaders are the executive officers of the

government, and are chosen from the ranks of the legislative majority by

the President of the Republic, much as English cabinets are chosen by

English sovereigns. They too are responsible for their policy and the

acts of their administration to the Chamber which they lead. They, like

their British prototypes, are the executive committee of the legislative

body, and upon its will their tenure of office depends.

It cannot be said, however, that the proceedings of the French Assembly

very closely resemble those of the British Commons. In the hall of the

Deputies there are no close benches which face each other, and no two

homogeneous parties to strive for the mastery. There are parties and

parties, factions and factions, coteries and coteries. There are

Bonapartists and Legitimatists, Republicans and Clericals, stubborn

reactionists and headlong radicals, stolid conservatives and vindictive

destructionists. One hears of the Centre, the Right Centre and the Left

Centre, the Right, the Left, the Extreme Right and the Extreme Left.

Some of these are, of course, mere factions, mere groups of

irreconcilables; but several of them are, on the other hand, numerous

and powerful parties upon whose mutual attractions and repulsions depend

the formation, the authority, and the duration of cabinets.

Of course, too, there is in a body so made up a great deal of

combustible material which the slightest circumstance suffices to kindle

into a sudden blaze. The Assembly would not be French if it were not

always excitable and sometimes uproarious. Absolute turbulence is so

probable a contingency in its economy that a very simple and quickly

applicable device is provided for its remedy. Should the deputies lose

their heads altogether and become unmanageable, the President may _put

on his hat_, and by that sign, unless calm be immediately restored, the

sitting is adjourned for one hour, at the expiration of which time it is

to be expected that the members may resume the business of the day in a

cooler frame of mind. There are other rules of procedure observed in the

Chamber which seem to foreign eyes at first sight very novel; but which

upon closer examination may be seen to differ from some of the practices

of our own House of Representatives in form rather than in essence. In

France greater freedom of speech is allowed individual members than is

possible under committee government, but recognition is not given to

just any one who first gets the floor and catches the presiding

officer's eye, as it is in the House of Commons, where none but the

ministers are accorded any right of precedence in gaining a hearing.

Those who wish to speak upon any pending question "inscribe" their

names beforehand on a list in the keeping of the President, and the

discussion is usually confined to those members who have "inscribed."

When this list has been exhausted, the President takes the sense of the

Chamber as to whether the debate shall be closed. The Chamber need not

wait, however, to hear all the gentlemen who have put their names upon

the list. If _une portion notable_ of it tires sooner of the discussion

or thinks itself sufficiently informed before all who wish to inform it

have spoken, it may demand that the debate be brought to an end. Of

course such a demand will not be heeded if it come from only a few

isolated members, and even _une portion notable_ may not interrupt a

speaker with this peremptory call for what we should denominate the

previous question, but which the French parliamentarian knows as the

_cloture_. A demand for the _cloture_ is not debatable. One speech may

be made against it, but none in its favor. Unless it meet with very

powerful resistance, it is expected to go through of its own weight.

Even the _cloture_, however, must give way if a member of the Ministry

claims the right to speak; for a minister must always be heard, and

after he has spoken, moreover, there must always be allowed one speech

in reply. Neither can the _cloture_ be pronounced unless a majority of

the deputies are present; and in case of doubt as to the will of the

Chamber in the matter, after two votes have been taken without eliciting

a full-voiced and indubitable assent, the discussion is tacitly suffered

to proceed.

These rules are not quite so compulsive and inexorable as are those

which sustain the government of our Standing Committees, nor do they

seem quite imperative enough for the effectual governance of rampant

deputies in their moments of wildest excitement; but they are somewhat

more rigid than one would expect to find under a system of ministerial

responsibility, the purity of whose atmosphere depends so directly upon

a free circulation of debate. They are meant for a body of peculiar

habits and a fiery temperament,--a body which is often brought screaming

to its feet by the words of a passionate speaker, which is time and

again betrayed into stormy disquiet, and which is ever being blown about

by every passing wind of excitement. Even in its minor points of

observance, the Chamber is essentially un-English. Members do not speak

from their seats, as we are accustomed to see members of our public

assemblies do, but from the "tribune," which is a conspicuous structure

erected near the desks of the President and secretaries,--a box-like

stand, closely resembling those narrow, quaintly-fashioned pulpits which

are still to be seen in some of the oldest of our American churches. And

since deputies must gain its commanding top before they may speak, there

are said to be many exciting races for this place of vantage. Sometimes,

indeed, very unseemly scenes take place, when several deputies, all

equally eager to mount the coveted stand, reach its narrow steps at the

same moment and contest the privilege of precedence,--especially if

their friends rally in numbers to their assistance.

The British House of Commons and the French Chamber, though so unlike in

the elements which compose them, and so dissimilar in their modes of

procedure, are easily seen to be alike in constitutional significance,

being made close kin by the principle of cabinet government, which they

both recognize and both apply in its fullest efficacy. In both England

and France a ministry composed of the chief officers of the executive

departments are constituted at once the leaders of legislation and the

responsible heads of administration,--a binding link between the

legislative and executive branches of the government. In this regard

these two systems present a strong contrast to our own. They recognize

and support simple, straightforward, inartificial party government,

under a standing committee of responsible party leaders, bringing

legislature and executive side by side in intimate but open cooperation;

whilst we, preferring to keep Congress and the departments at arm's

length, permit only a less direct government by party majorities,

checking party action by a complex legislative machinery of two score

and eight composite, semi-ministerial Committees. The English take their

parties straight,--we take ours mixed.

There is another aspect, however, in which all three of these systems

are alike. They are alike in their essential purpose, which is to enable

a mass meeting of representatives to superintend administration and get

good laws made. Congress does not deal so directly with our executive as

do the French and English parliaments with theirs, and cannot,

therefore, control it quite so effectually; there is a great deal of

friction amongst the many wheels of committee government; but, in the

long run, Congress is quite as omnipotent as either the Chamber of

Deputies or the House of Commons; and, whether there be two score

committees with functions mainly legislative, or only one with functions

half legislative, half executive, we have one form or another of

something like Mr. Mill's "legislative commission."

III.

THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES.

REVENUE AND SUPPLY.

The highest works of statesmanship require these three things:

Great power in the minister, genius to counsel and support him,

enlightenment in parliament to weigh and decide upon his

plans.--PROFESSOR SEELEY.

When men are not acquainted with each other's principles, nor

experienced in each other's talents, nor at all practiced in their

mutual habitudes and dispositions by joint efforts of business; no

personal confidence, no friendship, no common interest subsisting

among them; it is evidently impossible that they can act a public

part with uniformity, perseverance, or efficacy.--BURKE.

"It requires," says Mr. Bagehot, "a great deal of time to have

opinions," and if one is to judge from the legislative experience of

some very enlightened nations, it requires more time to have opinions

about finance than about any other subject. At any rate, very few

nations have found time to have correct opinions about it. Governments

which never consult the governed are usually content with very shabby,

short-sighted methods of taxation,--with any methods, indeed, which can

be made to yield the desired revenues without much trouble; and the

agents of a self-governing people are quite sure to be too busy with

elections and party management to have leisure to improve much upon the

practices of autocrats in regard to this important care of

administration. And yet this subject of finance seems to be interesting

enough in a way. It is one of the commonplaces of our history that, ever

since long before we came westward across the ocean, we have been

readier to fight about taxation than about any other one thing,--than

about a good many other things put together, indeed. There are several

sadly bloody spots in the financial history of our race. It could

probably be shown, however, if one cared to take time to show it, that

it is easy to get vexed about mismanagement of the finances without

knowing how they might be better managed. What we do not like is that we

are taxed,--not that we are stupidly taxed. We do not need to be

political economists to get angry about it; and when we have gotten

angry about it in the past our rulers have not troubled themselves to

study political economy in order to find out the best means of appeasing

us. Generally they have simply shifted the burden from the shoulders of

those who complained, and were able to make things unpleasant, to the

shoulders of those who might complain, but could not give much trouble.

Of course there are some taxes which are much more hateful than others,

and have on that account to be laid more circumspectly. All direct taxes

are heartily disliked by every one who has to pay them, and as heartily

abused, except by those who have never owned an ounce or an inch of

property, and have never seen a tax-bill. The heart of the ordinary

citizen regards them with an inborn aversion. They are so

straightforward and peremptory in their demands. They soften their

exactions with not a grain of consideration. The tax-collector,

consequently, is never esteemed a lovable man. His methods are too

blunt, and his powers too obnoxious. He comes to us, not with a

"please," but with a "must." His requisitions always leave our pockets

lighter and our hearts heavier. We cannot, for the life of us, help

thinking, as we fold up his receipt and put it away, that government is

much too expensive a luxury as nowadays conducted, and that that receipt

is incontestable documentary proof of unendurable extortion. What we do

not realize is, that life would be robbed of one of its chief

satisfactions if this occasion of grumbling were to be taken away.

Indirect taxes, on the other hand, offend scarcely anybody. It is one of

the open secrets of finance that in almost every system of taxation the

indirect overcrow the direct taxes by many millions, and have a knack

for levying on the small resources of insignificant persons which direct

taxes have never learned. They know how to coax pennies out of poor

people whose names have never been on the tax-collector's books. But

they are very sly, and have at command a thousand successful disguises.

High or complicated tariffs afford them their most frequent and abundant

opportunities. Most people have very short thoughts, which do not extend

beyond the immediate phenomena of direct vision, and so do not recognize

the hand of the government in the high prices charged them in the shops.

Very few of us taste the tariff in our sugar; and I suppose that even

very thoughtful topers do not perceive the license-tax in their whiskey.

There is little wonder that financiers have always been nervous in

dealing with direct, but confident and free of hand in laying indirect,

taxes.

It may, therefore, be accounted one of the customary advantages which

our federal government possesses over the governments of the States,

that it has almost always, in ordinary times, derived its entire revenue

from prompt and facile indirect taxes, whilst the States have had to

live upon the tardy and begrudged income derivable from a direct levy.

Since we have had to support two governments it has been wisely

resolved to let us, as long as possible, feel the weight of only one of

them,--and that the one which can get at us most readily, and, at the

same time, be most easily and promptly controlled by our votes. It is a

plain, convenient, and, on the whole, satisfactory division of domain,

though the responsibility which it throws on state legislatures is more

apt to pinch and prove vexatious than is that which it lays upon

Congress. Mr. Gladstone, the greatest of English financiers, once

playfully described direct and indirect taxes as two sisters,--daughters

of Necessity and Invention,--"differing only as sisters may differ, ...

the one being more free and open, the other somewhat more shy, retiring,

and insinuating;" and frankly owned that, whether from "a lax sense of

moral obligation or not," he, as Chancellor of the Exchequer, "thought

it not only allowable, but even an act of duty, to pay his addresses to

them both." But our chancellors of the exchequer, the chairmen of the

Committee of Ways and Means, are bound by other traditions of courtship,

and have, besides, usually shown no susceptibility to the charms of the

blunt and forward elder of these two sisters. They have been constant,

even if now and again a little wayward, in their devotion to the

younger.

I suppose that no one ever found the paths of finance less thorny and

arduous than have our national publicists. If their tasks be compared

with those of European and English financiers, it is plain to see that

their lines have fallen in pleasant places. From almost the very first

they have had boundless resources to draw upon, and they have certainly

of late days had free leave to spend limitless revenues in what

extravagances they pleased. It has come to be infinitely more trouble to

spend our enormous national income than to collect it. The chief

embarrassments have arisen, not from deficits, but from surpluses. It is

very fortunate that such has been the case, because for the best

management of the finances of a nation, when revenue is scant and

economy imperative, it is absolutely necessary to have financial

administration in the hands of a few highly-trained and skillful men

acting subject to a very strict responsibility, and this is just what

our committee system does not allow. As in other matters of legislation,

so in finance, we have many masters acting under a very dim and

inoperative accountability. Of course under such ministration our

financial policy has always been unstable, and has often strayed very

far from the paths of wisdom and providence; for even when revenue is

superabundant and extravagance easy, irresponsible, fast and loose

methods of taxation and expenditure must work infinite harm. The only

difference is that during such times the nation is not so sensitive to

the ill effects wrought by careless policy. Mismanagement is not

generally blamed until a great many people have discovered it by being

hurt by it. Meantime, however, it is none the less interesting and

important to study our government, with a view to gauging its qualities

and measuring accurately its capabilities for good or bad service; and

the study can doubtless be much more dispassionately conducted before we

have been seriously hurt by foolish, unsteady administration than

afterwards. The forces of the wind can be reckoned with much more

readily while they are blowing only a gale than after they have thrown a

hurricane upon us.

The national income is controlled by one Committee of the House and one

of the Senate; the expenditures of the government are regulated by

fifteen Committees of the House and five of the Senate; and the currency

is cared for by two Committees of the House and one of the Senate; by

all of which it appears that the financial administration of the country

is in the hands of twenty-four Committees of Congress,--a mechanism of

numerous small and great functions, quite complex enough to be worth

careful study, perhaps too complex to be studied directly without an

aiding knowledge of some simpler system with which it may be compared.

Our own budget may be more readily followed through all the vicissitudes

of committee scrutiny, and all the varied fortunes of committee action,

after one has traced some other budget through the simpler processes of

some other system of government.

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