It is just fifty-five years since Walter Bagehot wrote his Physics and Politics, a very suggestive book in its day. He began the first chapter of this book with a reference to “the sudden acquisition of much physical knowledge” which had marked the second half of the nineteenth century, and declared it his purpose to show the bearing of these new ideks upon the political conceptions of mankind. That purpose he, fulfilled with much ingenuity, pointing out the various lines along which the advance in natural science seemed to suggest modifications in the old theories of the state and of government.

This was only a half-century ago; yet the new physics of Bagehot's day has already growh old. Its basic concepts have been turned inside out and upside down. Its laws relating to the indestructibility of mass and the conservation of energy have been radically amended. Even a generation ago the atom was held to be the ultimate and indivisible unit in the composition of the universe. It was the basis upon which the scientists of the nineteenth century built up an inclusive set of laws and principles relating to the structure of all creation. No one had ever seen an atom, but its existence could be postulated and its properties were held to be knowable.

A full history of the English cabinet would be one of the seminal works on the technique of representative government; for, as Bagehot was the first to point out, the cabinet has been the primary source of decision in the modern English institutional system. Few books, it must be added, would be so difficult to write. Until 1917, the cabinet was without a secretary or authentic records; and there are even today purists who regret these obvious innovations. What account we have of its working is thus necessarily spasmodic and partial in character. A statesman who took a note of some meeting where his department was affected, a debate in the House of Commons after some dispute which has entailed resignation, a chance entry in a diary, the occasional revelation of autobiography–it is upon materials such as these that we are largely dependent for our knowledge. Even semi-official accounts, like those of Lord Morley and Mr. Gladstone, hardly give us more than the formal outline of the cabinet as it functions.

Yet one clue to its character has been curiously neglected; and it illustrates, as it happens, the nature of the social system in England in a quite special way. We know the men who occupied cabinet office; and by a careful study of who they were we can at least draw some inferences of interest and even importance. These inferences, let it be said at once, will not explain in any way the technique of the cabinet system. But at least they will serve to measure the way in which the changes in the structure of English social life are reflected in the choice of those responsible for the nation's effective governance.

“Justice is the end of government. It is the end of civil society.” Thus the authors of The Federalist defined the purposes of the government created by the Federal Convention. But they reached this definition as the conclusion to a discussion of the factious nature of mankind. Madison had already remarked that the causes of faction could not be removed without abolishing the liberty which is essential to political life. He believed, however, that the control of its effects was within human power. To the mind of the Virginian the vital political forces in the state should be tied up in a nice poise through the clauses of a written constitution. A government so contrived would, as Madison believed, “secure the permanent interests of the country against innovation.”

The ideal which Madison envisaged was one of dynamic equilibrium. He thought that by deriving the various branches of the government from different sources all positive action to the detriment of established order and guaranteed rights would be checked from the outset. Every safeguard against “the mutability of public councils” was to be embodied in the interior structure of the government itself. It was not enough that government should have a dependence upon the people; “experience has taught mankind the necessity of auxiliary precautions.”

The political experience to which Madison referred was fresh in the minds of all the men who assembled at Philadelphia in the summer of 1787. It was afforded by the thirteen states, in none of which did political practice square with the expressed provisions of its constitution.

The diplomatic relations between China and Russia in the past decade present a tangle of converging factors among which the Chinese revolution, the World War, and the Russian revolution play a great part. They are, however, only a phase in the larger process of imperial dissolution and national revival which has encompassed both the Russian and Chinese states and remarkably transformed them within the space of a generation. It is in relation to the forces unleashed by the disintegration of the Romanov and Manchu empires that the decade's changes in diplomatic policy must be viewed.

The most significant factor underlying the reorientation of Russian and Chinese foreign policy was the abolition of the monarchy in each country; for, with the fall of the imperial houses, came the beginnings of political and administrative disintegration, the resurgence of local nationalism, and the loosing of the centrifugal forces which the defunct dynasties had held in check. It is not our problem here to trace the constitutional consequences of such a vacancy of power in either domain, but to note the salient fact that it was a difficult, if not impossible, task immediately to create an efficient substitute authority for the dead and departed emperors, and that, in view of that difficulty, provincial separatism was for a time allowed to gain such headway as to constitute a serious menace to the national integrity of both the dissolving empires.

The most conspicuous constitutional decision rendered by the Supreme Court during its 1926 term, or for many a preceding term, was in the case of Myers v. United States. It is here held that the power of the President to remove executive officers appointed by him with the consent of the Senate cannot be restricted by Congress. On the question of the removal of such officers the Constitution is entirely silent. It is an interesting commentary on the process by which we make constitutional law that a problem as important as this, a problem which was debated at length in 1789, upon which presidents have acted and congresses have passed statutes, should now, after 137 years, be definitely settled for the first time, and be settled now only because the late Mr. Myers saw fit to sue the government in the Court of Claims for his salary.

The facts in the case are simple. In 1917 President Wilson appointed Myers to a first-class postmastership at Portland, Oregon, for a term of four years. In 1920, by direction of the President, he was removed from office. A statute passed in 1876 and still in force provides that “postmasters of the first, second, and third classes shall be appointed and may be removed by the President by and with the advice and consent of the Senate and shall hold their offices for four years unless sooner removed or suspended according to law.” The removal of Myers was never referred to the Senate for its consent.

One does not speak of the rights of American trade unions glibly or in off-hand fashion. Unlike the English policy of defining the rights of labor by legislative enactment, our legislatures, both federal and state, have been particularly slow to make such definition. Such predicability as the labor law has thus far assumed has been largely the work of the courts. Here, in other words, we discover the rights of trade unions in the opinions of the courts; in England, we have been accustomed to look to the statute-book rather than to judicial opinions. Comparatively, English labor law has at least enjoyed the merit of being reasonably predicable. The acts of 1859, 1871, 1875, 1906, and 1913 were all designed either to make the existing law more definite or to overturn a judicial interpretation of the law adverse to labor. Thus, by the year 1927 the law was rather definite. The statutes contained statements of what labor could or could not do. A reading of the recent Trade Disputes and Trade Unions Act of July 29, 1927, raises the question whether this legislation marks a change in the English policy of fixing the rights of labor by legislative definition.

The immediate occasion for the recent act was the general strike of May, 1926. Introduced and rushed through Parliament by the present Conservative government, this measure failed to receive the preliminary study and consideration that preceded the introduction of the acts of 1871 and 1906.

The voters of the Saorstat Eireann went to the polls on September 15 to elect a new Dail. This was the fourth election under the P.R. system and the second election of the year. Despite the importance of the issues involved and the strenuous efforts of the two larger parties, the total poll was only 35,000 votes greater than in the previous June. But a total poll of 1,180,000 votes is a good record for the Free State, even though on a percentage basis it does not appear large. The present inefficient state of the register makes a percentage comparison somewhat misleading.

To the student of political institutions the election was interesting because of its bearing on several important matters: proportional representation, the development of the party system, political education, and parliamentary government. Not the least of these was proportional representation. There has been much discussion of P.R. in the Free State, and the Cumann na nGaedheal, or government party, made a promise in the election campaign to modify or abolish the system if returned to office. It remains to be seen whether this pledge can be carried out. But in the meantime it is interesting to point out how the system appears to have operated in the most recent election.

Some of the English newspapers undoubtedly exaggerated the evils of the system, the Sunday Express even saying that “one consequence of the election will be the abandonment of an experiment which distorts rather than expresses the opinion of the voters.”

The German national public officer—a term which covers public employees of every rank, from watchmen and gate-keepers to the chancellor, and in every type of occupation, from engineering to diplomacy, from teaching to service on the bench of the highest courts—has a very special status, governed in part by the constitution, in part by the Law of Officers, and in part by many other statutes, such as a law fixing salaries. This status involves many rights and privileges, and on the other hand, many duties and restrictions. The oath of office required of all national officers consists of a pledge to be faithful to the constitution, obedient to the laws, and conscientious in the performance of official duties. The law requires every officer to conduct himself at all times, even in his private capacity, in such a way as to merit the respect due to his office. Misconduct is liable to the “ordinary” penalties of reprimand, warning, and money fine, or, after due hearing, to the “disciplinary” penalties of suspension and dismissal. The criminal code takes cognizance of certain specified crimes and misdemeanors in office, such as the improper bringing about of arrests and prosecutions, and the falsification of official records. Naturally, the officer is also liable when he commits any other type of crime or misdemeanor.

The rights and privileges of public officers are very substantial. National officers are appointed, as a rule, for life; unless any appointment is specified as being revocable, it is per se a life appointment, involving protection against arbitrary dismissal or suspension.

At the present time, there is an extensive literature dealing with the structure and functions of the eighteen German state governments. For most of the states, one finds collections of laws and regulations, commentaries and manuals, state hand-books, statistical year-books, legal and administrative journals, together with other more or less fugitive publications. But among all this material, there are almost no comparative studies in state law, politics, and administration.

It may be worth while to suggest briefly a number of helps for the comparative study of German state government. Of the treatises on public law, the only one which deals exclusively with the states is Julius Hatschek's Ausserpreussisches Landesstaatsrecht (Berlin, 1926). This volume discusses and compares the governments of all the German states except Prussia and Waldeck. The constitutions of ten of the more important states are printed as appendices, but the usefulness of the book is lessened by the complete omission of an index. Otto Meissner's Das Staatsrecht des Reichs und seiner Länder (2nd ed., Berlin, 1923) devotes considerable space to the states and is provided with a good index. It is now, however, somewhat out of date. Walter Jellinek's Verfassung und Verwaltung des Reichs und der Länder (Leipzig, 1925) is of little value for the purpose now under consideration, as it contains only thirteen pages on the states. Fritz Stier-Somlo's Deutsches Reichs-und Landesstaatsrecht (Vol. I, Berlin, 1924) is, of course, recognized as a standard work, but thus far only one volume has appeared. The second volume, dealing with the states, is not yet forthcoming.