ch travels most, knows most of foreign nations,
has the least of the territorial sectarianism which calls itself
patriotism, and is often thought to be so. Even here, indeed, in
England the new trade-class is in real merit equal to the aristocracy.
Their knowledge of foreign things is as great, and their contact with
them often more. But, notwithstanding, the new race is not as
serviceable for diplomacy as the old race. An ambassador is not simply
an agent; he is also a spectacle. He is sent abroad for show as well as
for substance; he is to represent the Queen among foreign courts and
foreign sovereigns. An aristocracy is in its nature better suited to
such work; it is trained to the theatrical part of life; it is fit for
that if it is fit for anything. But, with this exception, an
aristocracy is necessarily inferior in business to the classes nearer
business; and it is not, therefore, a suitable class, if we had our
choice of classes, out of which to frame a chamber for revising matters
of business. It is indeed a singular example how natural business is to
the English race, that the House of Lords works as well as it does. The
common appearance of the "whole House" is a jest--a dangerous anomaly,
which Mr. Bright will sometimes use; but a great deal of substantial
work is done in "Committees," and often very well done. The great
majority of the peers do none of their appointed work, and could do
none of it; but a minority--a minority never so large and never so
earnest as in this age--do it, and do it well. Still no one, who
examines the matter without prejudice, can say that the work is done
perfectly. In a country so rich in mind as England, far more
intellectual power can be, and ought to be, applied to the revision of
our laws.

And not only does the House of Lords do its work imperfectly, but
often, at least, it does it timidly. Being only a section of the
nation, it is afraid of the nation. Having been used for years and
years, on the greatest matters to act contrary to its own judgment, it
hardly knows when to act on that judgment. The depressing languor with
which it damps an earnest young peer is at times ridiculous. "When the
Corn Laws are gone, and the rotten boroughs, why tease about Clause IX.
in the Bill to regulate Cotton Factories?" is the latent thought of
many peers. A word from the leaders, from "the Duke," or Lord Derby, or
Lord Lyndhurst, will rouse on any matters the sleeping energies; but
mos