function was to tell the executive—­the king—­what the nation wished he should do; to some extent, to guide him by new wisdom, and, to a very great extent, to guide him by new facts.  These facts were their own feelings, which were the feelings of the people, because they were part and parcel of the people.  From thence the king learned, or had the means to learn, what the nation would endure, and what it would not endure;—­what he might do, and what he might not do.  If he much mistook this, there was a rebellion.

There are, as is well known, three great periods in the English Constitution.  The first of these is the ante-Tudor period.  The English Parliament then seemed to be gaining extraordinary strength and power.  The title to the Crown was uncertain; some monarchs were imbecile.  Many ambitious men wanted to “take the people into partnership”.  Certain precedents of that time were cited with grave authority centuries after, when the time of freedom had really arrived.  But the causes of this rapid growth soon produced an even more sudden decline.  Confusion fostered it, and confusion destroyed it.  The structure of society then was feudal; the towns were only an adjunct and a make-weight.  The principal popular force was an aristocratic force, acting with the co-operation of the gentry and yeomanry, and resting on the loyal fealty of sworn retainers.  The head of this force, on whom its efficiency depended, was the high nobility.  But the high nobility killed itself out.  The great barons who adhered to the “Red Rose” or the “White Rose,” or who fluctuated from one to the other, became poorer, fewer, and less potent every year.  When the great struggle ended at Bosworth, a large part of the greatest combatants were gone.  The restless, aspiring, rich barons, who made the civil war, were broken by it.  Henry VII. attained a kingdom in which there was a Parliament to advise, but scarcely a Parliament to control.

The consultative government of the ante-Tudor period had little resemblance to some of the modern governments which French philosophers call by that name.  The French Empire, I believe, calls itself so.  But its assemblies are symmetrical “shams”.  They are elected by a universal suffrage, by the ballot, and in districts once marked out with an eye to equality, and still retaining a look of equality.  But our English Parliaments were UNsymmetrical realities.  They were elected anyhow; the sheriff had a considerable licence in sending writs to boroughs, that is, he could in part pick its constituencies; and in each borough there was a rush and scramble for the franchise, so that the strongest local party got it, whether few or many.  But in England at that time there was a great and distinct desire to know the opinion of the nation, because there was a real and close necessity.  The nation was wanted to do something—­to assist the sovereign in some war, to pay some old debt, to contribute its force and aid in the critical