s a product
of natural law, and that our business was to adapt our political and
social institutions to it. "Democracy," he said, "is trying to _affirm
its own essence_: to live, to enjoy, to possess the world, as
aristocracy has tried, and successfully tried, before it."

The movement of Democracy he regarded as being an "operation of nature,"
and, like other operations of nature, it was neither to be praised nor
blamed. He was neither a "partisan" of it, nor an "enemy." His only care
was, if he could, to guide it aright, and to secure that it used its
predominant power in human affairs at least as wisely as the aristocracy
which had preceded it. Of aristocratic rule in foreign countries--of
such rule as preceded the French Revolution--he thought as poorly as
most men think; but for the aristocracy of England he had a singular
esteem. It is true that he gave it a nickname; that he poked fun at its
illiteracy and its inaccessibility to ideas; that he was impatient of
"immense inequalities of condition and property," and huge estates, and
irresponsible landlordism; that he contemned the "hideous English
toadyism" and "immense vulgar-mindedness" of the Middle Class when
confronted with "lords and great people."

But, for all that, he wrote about the English Aristocracy, as it stood
in 1859: "I desire to speak of it with the most unbounded respect. It is
the most popular of aristocracies; it has avoided faults which have
ruined other aristocracies equally splendid. While the aristocracy of
France was destroying its estates by its extravagance, and itself by
its impertinence, the aristocracy of England was founding English
agriculture, and commanding respect by a personal dignity which made
even its pride forgiven. Historical and political England, the England
of which we are all so proud, is of its making."

In spite, however, of this high estimate of what Aristocracy had
accomplished in the past, he felt that power was slipping away from it,
and was passing into the hands of the Multitude. But he also felt--and
it was certainly one of his most profound convictions--that the
Multitude could never govern properly, could never regulate its own
affairs, could never present England adequately to the view of the
world, unless it cast aside the Individualism in which it had been
nurtured, and made up its mind to act in and through the State. Perhaps
his ideal of a State can best be described as an Educated Democracy,
working