neaking kindness for a lord," as Mr. Gladstone put
it, be found out; he is not sure how far that weakness is shared by
those around him. And thus Englishmen easily find themselves committed
to anti-aristocratic sentiments which are the direct opposite of their
real feeling, and their collective action may be bitterly hostile to
rank while the secret sentiment of each separately is especially
favourable to rank. In 1832 the close boroughs, which were largely held
by peers, and were still more largely supposed to be held by them, were
swept away with a tumult of delight; and in another similar time of
great excitement, the Lords themselves, if they deserve it, might pass
away. The democratic passions gain by fomenting a diffused excitement,
and by massing men in concourses; the aristocratic sentiments gain by
calm and quiet, and act most on men by themselves, in their families,
and when female influence is not absent. The overt electioneering power
of the Lords does not at all equal its real social power. The English
plutocracy, as is often said of something yet coarser, must be
"humoured, not drove"; they may easily be impelled against the
aristocracy, though they respect it very much; and as they are much
stronger than the aristocracy, they might, if angered, even destroy it;
though in order to destroy it, they must help to arouse a wild
excitement among the ignorant poor, which, if once roused, may not be
easily calmed, and which may be fatal to far more than its beginners
intend.

This is the explanation of the anomaly which puzzles many clever lords.
They think, if they do not say, "Why are we pinned up here? Why are we
not in the Commons where we could have so much more power? Why is this
nominal rank given us, at the price of substantial influence? If we
prefer real weight to unreal prestige, why may we not have it?" The
reply is, that the whole body of the Lords have an incalculably greater
influence over society while there is still a House of Lords, than they
would have if the House of Lords were abolished; and that though one or
two clever young peers might do better in the Commons, the old order of
peers, young and old, clever and not clever, is much better where it
is. The selfish instinct of the mass of peers on this point is a keener
and more exact judge of the real world than the fine intelligence of
one or two of them.

If the House of Peers ever goes, it will go in a storm, and the storm
will not leave