The Government of England (Vol. I) — Story, Setting & Ideas
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Ireland were intended to be, in part at least, forever binding, but as they created no authority with power either to enforce or to amend the Acts, the united Parliament assumed that, like its predecessors, it possessed unlimited sovereignty; and it has, in fact, altered material provisions in each of those statutes.[8:3]
[Sidenote: Sources of the English Constitution.]
The English Constitution--speaking, of course, of its form, not its content--differs, therefore, from those of most other European nations more widely in method of expression than in essential nature and legal effect. They have been created usually as a result of a movement to change fundamentally the political institutions of the country, and the new plan has naturally been embodied in a document; but since the Restoration England has never revised her frame of government as a whole, and hence has felt no need of codifying it. The national political institutions are to be found in statutes,[9:1] in customs which are enforced and developed by the courts and form a part of the Common Law, and in customs strictly so called which have no legal validity whatever and cannot be enforced at law. These last are very appropriately called by Professor Dicey the conventions of the constitution. The two chief peculiarities of the English Constitution are: first, that no laws are ear-marked as constitutional,--all laws can be changed by Parliament, and hence it is futile to attempt to draw a sharp line between those laws which do and those which do not form a part of the constitution;--second, the large part played by customary rules, which are carefully followed, but which are entirely devoid of legal sanction. Customs or conventions of this kind exist, and in the nature of things must to some extent exist, under all governments. In the United States where they might, perhaps, be least expected, they have, as already observed, transformed the presidential electors into a mere machine for registering the popular vote in the several states, and this is only the most striking of the instances that might be cited.[9:2] England is peculiar, not because it has such conventions, but because they are more abundant and all-pervasive than elsewhere. The most familiar of them is, of course, the rule that the King must act on the advice of his ministers, while they must resign or dissolve Parliament when they lose the confidence of the majority in the House of Commons.
It is impossible, however, to make a precise list of the conventions of the constitution, for they are constantly changing by a natural process of growth and decay; and while some of them are universally accepted, others are in a state of uncertainty. Hence one hears from time to time a member of the Opposition assert that some action of the government is unconstitutional, meaning that it is an unusual breach of a principle which in his opinion ought to be recognised as inviolable. It was said, for example, that the Parliament of 1900, having been elected on the issue of the South African war, was not justified in enacting measures of great importance on other subjects, but that a fresh mandate from the nation ought to be obtained by another general election. As claims of this kind are in dispute, those customs alone can safely be said to be a part of the constitution which are generally assumed to be outside the range of current political controversy.
[Sidenote: The Relation of Law and Custom.]
Lowell opens his study by framing the English government as 'an organism constantly adapting itself to its environment,' a metaphor that recurs throughout the work. He deliberately limits his scope to contemporary institutions of national and local government, excluding Scotland and Ireland except where they illuminate general principles. The preface warns that many forces 'do not lie upon the surface' and must be learned from those connected with public life, signaling a method that combines documentary evidence with practical insight.
The Architecture of Financial Control
Lowell devotes sustained attention to the House of Commons' financial procedures, tracing how standing orders govern the initiation and amendment of money bills. He notes that the rule requiring a royal recommendation for any charge upon the public revenue dates from 1706, the same year the last royal veto was exercised in 1707. This juxtaposition illustrates a central theme: the transfer of fiscal authority from Crown to ministers, concurrent with the loss of personal legislative power by the monarch.
The text examines the Committee on Public Accounts and the recent suggestion that a day be set apart for discussing its report, reflecting Lowell's interest in how Parliament supervises expenditure. He also describes anomalous cases—such as Indian revenue accounts and Greenwich Hospital expenses—where estimates are not voted but accounts are later submitted for approval. These exceptions, he argues, allow local authorities to govern while reserving parliamentary oversight.
Standing Orders as Constitutional Bones
Lowell highlights that for over a century, only three standing orders governed the House of Commons: rules against compounding revenue debts, and two others adopted in 1715. This sparse framework, he implies, allowed flexibility while maintaining control. He traces how later orders—such as those requiring a committee of the whole for money resolutions—emerged to meet new demands, showing the Constitution as a living set of practices rather than a rigid code.
The author frequently cites May's Parliamentary Practice and Todd's Parliamentary Government in England, anchoring his analysis in authoritative sources. Yet he also notes that some forces 'are not described in any document,' a reminder that unwritten conventions—like ministerial responsibility—are equally vital. The interplay between codified rules and tacit understandings gives the work its analytical edge.
Comparative Glances Across the Channel
Though focused on England, Lowell occasionally draws comparisons with France, Italy, and Belgium to sharpen his points. For instance, he contrasts the French and Italian experience with financial amendments, where lack of party cohesion led to instability, with Belgium's relative success due to 'greater cohesion of parties' and separate expenditure acts. These asides are brief but revealing: they show Lowell testing English practices against continental alternatives.
He also references the British North America Act and the Commonwealth of Australia Constitution Act to illustrate how the rule against initiating money bills without royal recommendation was exported to colonies. Such comparisons underscore his view of English government as a model that influenced other lands, while acknowledging that each system adapts to local conditions.
The Texture of Parliamentary Debate
Lowell's prose moves between dense procedural exposition and vivid glimpses of parliamentary life. He notes that the House 'takes little interest in the financial aspect' of estimates, preferring to criticize administrative conduct. This observation, drawn from committee reports, captures the gap between formal rules and actual behavior. He also recounts how a motion to reduce a minister's salary can serve as a vehicle for broader criticism—a tactic used in the famous 1895 case.
The footnotes are rich with cross-references to standing orders, statutes, and scholarly works, creating a layered text that rewards careful reading. Lowell's own voice remains measured, but his choices—such as emphasizing the 'wise' provision for Indian accounts—reveal a preference for pragmatic flexibility over rigid uniformity.
Lowell's volume rewards readers who attend to its footnotes and cross-references as much as its main text. The work is best approached not as a narrative but as a layered analysis, where procedural details illuminate broader constitutional principles. Those interested in how unwritten rules shape institutional behavior will find particular value in his treatment of standing orders and financial control.
I remember sitting with Lowell’s account of standing orders, feeling the strange comfort of rules almost alive, adapting quietly. It reminded me of reading Unpopular government in the United States — Story, Setting & Ideas, where another kind of machinery seemed to breathe. Both books made me think of tide-worn stones—shaped by something older than any single intention.
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