abinet,
and all the present relations of the Constitutional powers in this
country, have grown into their present dimensions, and settled into
their present places, not as the fruit of a philosophy, not in the
effort to give effect to an abstract principle; but by the silent action
of forces, invisible and insensible, the structure has come up into the
view of all the world. It is, perhaps, the most conspicuous object on
the wide political horizon; but it has thus risen, without noise, like
the temple of Jerusalem.

"No workman steel, no ponderous hammers rung;
Like some tall palm the stately fabric sprung."[17]

When men repeat the proverb which teaches us that "marriages are made in
heaven," what they mean is that, in the most fundamental of all social
operations, the building up of the family, the issues involved in the
nuptial contract, lie beyond the best exercise of human thought, and
the unseen forces of providential government make good the defect in our
imperfect capacity. Even so would it seem to have been in that curious
marriage of competing influences and powers, which brings about the
composite harmony of the British Constitution. More, it must be
admitted, than any other, it leaves open doors which lead into blind
alleys; for it presumes, more boldly than any other, the good sense and
good faith of those who work it. If, unhappily, these personages meet
together, on the great arena of a nation's fortunes, as jockeys meet
upon a racecourse, each to urge to the uttermost, as against the others,
the power of the animal he rides; or as counsel in a court, each to
procure the victory of his client, without respect to any other interest
or right: then this boasted Constitution of ours is neither more nor
less than a heap of absurdities. The undoubted competency of each
reaches even to the paralysis or destruction of the rest. The House of
Commons is entitled to refuse every shilling of the supplies. That
House, and also the House of Lords, is entitled to refuse its assent to
every bill presented to it. The Crown is entitled to make a thousand
Peers to-day and as many to-morrow: it may dissolve all and every
Parliament before it proceeds to business; may pardon the most atrocious
crimes; may declare war against all the world; may conclude treaties
involving unlimited responsibilities, and even vast expenditure, without
the consent, nay, without the knowledge, of Parliament, and this not
merely in support