are three parties, the primary condition of a cabinet polity is not satisfied.  Under such circumstances the only way is for the moderate people of every party to combine in support of the government which, on the whole, suits every party best.  In the choice of a fit minister, if the royal selection were always discreetly exercised, it would be an incalculable benefit, but in most cases the wisest course for the monarch would be inaction.

Now the sovereign has three rights, the right to be consulted, the right to encourage, and the right to warn.  In the course of a long reign a king would acquire the same advantage which a permanent under-secretary has over his superior, the parliamentary secretary.  But whenever there is discussion between a king and the minister, the king’s opinion would have its full weight, and the minister’s would not.  The whole position is evidently attractive to an intelligent, sagacious and original sovereign.  But we cannot expect a lineal series of such kings.  Neither theory nor experience warrant any such expectations.  The only fit material for a constitutional king is a prince who begins early to reign, who in his youth is superior to pleasure, is willing to labour, and has by nature a genius for discretion.

III.—­The House of Lords and the House of Commons

The use of the order of the lords in its dignified capacity is very great.  The mass of men require symbols, and nobility is the symbol of mind.  The order also prevents the rule of wealth.  The Anglo-Saxon has a natural instinctive admiration of wealth for its own sake; but from the worst form of this our aristocracy preserves us, and the reverence for rank is not so base as the reverence for money, or the still worse idolatry of office.  But as the picturesqueness of society diminishes, aristocracy loses the single instrument of its peculiar power.

The House of Lords as an assembly has always been not the first, but the second.  The peers, who are of the most importance, are not the most important in the House of Peers.  In theory, the House of Lords is of equal rank with the House of Commons; in practice it is not.  The evil of two co-equal houses is obvious.  If they disagree, all business is suspended.  There ought to be an available decisive authority somewhere.  The sovereign power must be comeatable.  The English have made it so by the authority of the crown to create new peers.  Before the Reform Act the members of the peerage swayed the House of Commons, and the two houses hardly collided except on questions of privilege.  After the Reform Bill the house ceased to be one of the latent directors and palpable alterers.

It was the Duke of Wellington who presided over the change, and from the duke himself we may learn that the use of the House of Lords is not to be a bulwark against revolution.  It cannot resist the people if the people are determined.  It has not the control of necessary physical force.  With a perfect lower house, the second chamber would be of scarcely any value; but beside the actual house, a revising and leisured legislature is extremely useful.  The cabinet is so powerful in the commons that it may inflict minor measures on the nation which the nation does not like.  The executive is less powerful in the second chamber, which may consequently operate to impede minor instances of parliamentary tyranny.