The main function of the House of Commons is one which we know quite well, though our common constitutional speech does not recognise it.  The House of Commons is an electoral chamber; it is the assembly which chooses our president.  Washington and his fellow-politicians contrived an electoral college, to be composed (as was hoped) of the wisest people in the nation, which, after due deliberation, was to choose for president the wisest man in the nation.  But that college is a sham; it has no independence and no life.  No one knows, or cares to know, who its members are.  They never discuss, and never deliberate.  They were chosen to vote that Mr. Lincoln be President, or that Mr. Breckenridge be President; they do so vote, and they go home.  But our House of Commons is a real choosing body; it elects the people it likes.  And it dismisses whom it likes too.  No matter that a few months since it was chosen to support Lord Aberdeen or Lord Palmerston; upon a sudden occasion it ousts the statesman to whom it at first adhered, and selects an opposite statesman whom it at first rejected.  Doubtless in such cases there is a tacit reference to probable public opinion; but certainly also there is much free will in the judgment of the Commons.  The House only goes where it thinks in the end the nation will follow; but it takes its chance of the nation following or not following; it assumes the initiative, and acts upon its discretion or its caprice.

When the American nation has chosen its President, its virtue goes out of it, and out of the Transmissive College through which it chooses.  But because the House of Commons has the power of dismissal in addition to the power of election, its relations to the Premier are incessant.  They guide him and he leads them.  He is to them what they are to the nation.  He only goes where he believes they will go after him.  But he has to take the lead; he must choose his direction, and begin the journey.  Nor must he flinch.  A good horse likes to feel the rider’s bit; and a great deliberative assembly likes to feel that it is under worthy guidance.  A Minister who succumbs to the House,—­who ostentatiously seeks its pleasure,—­who does not try to regulate it,—­who will not boldly point out plain errors to it, seldom thrives.  The great leaders of Parliament have varied much, but they have all had a certain firmness.  A great assembly is as soon spoiled by over-indulgence as a little child.  The whole life of English politics is the action and reaction between the Ministry and the Parliament.  The appointees strive to guide, and the appointers surge under the guidance.  The elective is now the most important function of the House of Commons.  It is most desirable to insist, and be tedious, on this, because our tradition ignores it.  At the end of half the sessions of Parliament, you will read in the newspapers, and you will hear even from those who have looked close at the matter and should know better, “Parliament has done