trol the course of English government,” when the government was divorced from “that general mass of national sentiment on which a government can alone safely ground itself.” Then it was that English public opinion, “robbed as it was of all practical power, and thus stripped of the feeling of responsibility which the consciousness of power carries with it,” “became ignorant and indifferent to the general progress of the age, but at the same time . . . hostile to Government because it was Government, disloyal to the Crown, averse from Parliament. For the first and last time . . . Parliament was unpopular, and its opponents secure of popularity.”[1] Congress has in our own day become divorced from the “general mass of national sentiment,” simply because there is no means by which the movements of that national sentiment can readily be registered in legislation. Going about as it does to please all sorts of Committees composed of all sorts of men,—the dull and the acute, the able and the cunning, the honest and the careless,—Congress evades judgment by avoiding all coherency of plan in its action. The constituencies can hardly tell whether the works of any particular Congress have been good or bad; at the opening of its sessions there was no determinate policy to look forward to, and at their
- ↑ Green’s History of the English People, vol. iv., pp. 202, 203.
