THE HOUSE OF LORDS.

The chamber of the House of Lords is close to that of the Commons. The

constant communication between these two bodies, renders it necessary

that they should sit within the same palace. The recent destruction of

the old Parliament House, by fire, has not separated them. Their

temporary chambers are connected by temporary passages, leading from

one to the other. Along them Members of the House of Commons,

personally, carry their bills to the bar of the Peers; while the Peers

despatch their messengers to lay their own before the representatives

of the people.

The Ministers do not fail to avail themselves of this proximity. Being

entitled to a seat only in that chamber to which they belong as

Members of Parliament, when any struggle between themselves and the

opposition is going on at the same time in both houses, they are at

least enabled to exchange messages, from minute to minute, and to

regulate their movements accordingly.

Thanks to this proximity, the noise and uproar of the popular branch,

has alone, more than once, made the members of the more aristocratic

body tremble on their seats. While the fanatical coalition of the

Lords, temporal and spiritual, assailed the intrepidly defended, but

badly fortified ministry of Lord Melbourne, more than once, the

thundering voice of the Commons has relaxed the fury of the

assailants, and encouraged the resistance of the besieged. The

victorious cry of the reformers, led by Lord John Russell, often threw

into confusion the conquered conservatres of Sir Robert Peel.

But it is necessary to describe this second arena of political

warfare.

The chamber of the Lords is of the same form as that of the Commons—a

lengthened square. The benches are generally placed in the same way;

but the decorations are of a more striking appearance. Looking from

the only gallery, common to the public and the reporters, you behold

the throne immediately in front. This throne is not, as in France, a

piece of furniture placed in the chamber every year, on the first day

of the session. Here it is immovable.

Below is the celebrated woolsack, the seat of the real President of

the assembly. Custom has determined that this must be a sort of sack—a

bench without a back.

The apartment for the clerks is separated from the woolsack by two

benches, on which two places are reserved for the Masters in Chancery,

the official messengers of the chamber.

The covering and drapery of the throne, the hangings of the walls, the

carpet, the screens, the benches, cushions and backs, every thing is

red in this hall. Red is the aristocratic color. When the Peers, on

the occasion of a visit from the King, are seated in state, with their

red mantles, the whole appearance of the chamber is more dazzling than

imposing. The appearance of the Commons at the bar, in their simple

every day dress, presents a striking contrast. One smiles in spite of

himself on reflecting that those are not the masters, who are thus

sumptuously dressed in garments of purple.

This hall, in which the Lords are temporarily convened, was formerly

the bed-chamber of Edward the Confessor. One can well imagine that if

the four hundred and thirty nobles should take it into their heads to

meet at the same time, that this room would with great difficulty

contain them; but this fancy rarely ever seizes them. It is a great

occasion which draws together even two hundred. The Peers enjoy a

singular privilege which renders personal attendance almost

unnecessary. They can vote by proxy. So that, when any one of them

desires to travel on the continent, he leaves, if he choose, a power

with some Peer of his own party, who exercises this delegated right of

voting as often as he pleases, when he pleases, and how he pleases,

except in divisions of a committee. Formerly the royal authority alone

could render these powers available. Now even this is not required. At

the present time, the Duke of Wellington, for instance, has his pocket

full of tory votes.

The Peers who are in the habit of attending Parliament, find the

present hall very small and uncomfortable. The government, which is

building a new Parliament House, has consulted them on its dimensions;

and it has been decided that it shall be neither very large nor very

small. No one ever thought of building it on the supposition that the

whole of the Peers would assemble at one time within its walls. This

hypothesis has never even been suggested. The number of Peers present

at the same time, has never been greater than on the question of the

passage of the principal amendment attempted against parliamentary

reform, the 7th of May, 1832. On that occasion there were two hundred

and sixty-seven members in the house. That number was taken as the

maximum: each member will be allowed three feet square. It is evident

that the noble Lords are divided between the desire to be seated

comfortably, and the fear of having too large an apartment, in which

on some day or other a crowd of intruders may lodge themselves.

One word on the constitution of this chamber. Nothing can be more

various than the elements of which it is composed. It has, first, its

Peerages hereditary under the law of primogeniture—these are the

English Peerages, and are beyond all comparison the most numerous;

next, the Scotch and Irish Peerages, which are elective, but on

different principles. The Scotch Peers are nominated only for a single

Parliament; the Irish are for life. There are besides Ecclesiastical

Peers, Archbishops and Bishops, English or Irish, who sit, the former

on their own right, and for life, the latter by turns, every year,

four by four.

In England the Peerage forms the only nobility possessed of any real

title. One who is not a Peer has no legal title. The sons of Peers are

not authorized to assume, in their public acts, any title of nobility.

Even the eldest sons are only Lords by general consent and courtesy.

The official list of the Peerage is the only official list of the

nobility. The peerages are of different ranks; and among those of the

same class, the most ancient has precedence. Thus there are in the

first place, Dukes, then Marquises, Earls, Viscounts, and Barons. The

Bishops and Archbishops, known as Lords Spiritual, are ranked

according to their respective {548} dignity. The Archbishops of

England have the rank of Dukes, and even precede them. The Archbishop

of Canterbury, the primate and head of the church, is a sort of

English Pope, and follows immediately after the Princes of the blood.

He is the first Peer of the House of Lords. The Lord Chancellor (when

there is one) is, in virtue of his office, the second; and the

Archbishop of York is the third. The Bishops are ranked as Barons, and

have precedence of them.

The Barons of Kingsale, like the Grandees of Spain, enjoy the

exclusive and hereditary privilege of remaining uncovered in the

presence of the King. The Peers have no other privileges, (excepting

the peculiar style in which they are addressed, as “his grace,” or the

“right honorable,”) which are not common to them all. Their chief

privileges are those which prevent the seizure of their goods, their

being arrested for debt, or judged by default in any civil action.

They cannot be held to answer any criminal process but before their

Peers. The reason of the inviolability of their persons in these and

many other cases, is to be found in the fiction by which the Peers are

all considered as counsellors of the King, and therefore secured in

this perfect personal freedom, that they may be always ready to serve

the necessities of the crown.

The House of Lords can only exclude a member and deprive him of the

privileges of his rank, by convicting him of some capital or infamous

crime. However, Blackstone mentions that, during the reign of Edward

IV, George Neville, Duke of Bedford, was degraded by act of

Parliament, on account of his poverty, which prevented his keeping up

a style suited to his rank as a Peer. This fact is the more curious,

as it is the only one of the kind, in the whole history of Parliament.

Subsequently, a practice the very reverse has prevailed. So that,

recently, the Earl of Huntingdon, though reduced to extreme indigence,

has succeeded in establishing a contested claim to the Peerage, and

the King has endowed him to enable him to sustain his rank as becomes

a nobleman.

In England the aristocracy is firmly established. Each Peerage rests,

at least fictitiously, on a real title, based on landed property.

France and Spain, with a much larger and more ancient and illustrious

nobility, have, however, never had a powerful and deeply-rooted

aristocracy. If the French noblesse of the States-General had formed a

political body strongly seated, properly supported, and distinctively

marked, the revolution could not have overthrown them with as much

ease as it did. Louis XVIII undertook, in 1814, to construct an upper

house; he was too late—the materials were wanting—he built with sand

on a foundation of sand.

It is now two years since M. Martinez de la Rosa also endeavored to

form one in Spain. Well! in the country where every body is a

_hidalgo_, he was unable to find grandees and _tilulos_ for his frail

edifice. He went to work like the French political masons in 1831; he

took political economists, philosophers, judges, lawyers, poets,

merchants, and mixed them all up with the little of true nobility that

remained. With this mortar he built his _proceres_, destined to last

about as long as the new Peers of France.

It is certain that the British Peerage has no longer the solid

strength it once possessed; but, though weakened and shaken, it

maintains itself by the vigor of its original organization; it does

not absolutely arrest the popular torrent, but it resists, even in

letting it pass along. However, this flood will not always dash

without injury, around the House which forms an obstacle to its

course; it is fast undermining its foundations; and will soon or late

overthrow the whole mass. It will have been long submerged while

Westminster Abbey still mirrors itself in the Thames. Such is the lot

of the works of the middle ages. Its buildings outlive its strongest

institutions.

The British Peerage is not only a legislative body; it is at the same

time a court of justice—not an extraordinary court for the trial of

its own members or persons accused of high treason, but a permanent

and regular court—a supreme court of appeals in civil matters. These

two attributes are, however, as distinct as the unavoidable

consequences of this double capacity will permit; good sense has

corrected in practice, the theoretical absurdity of the law. Although

every Peer is born a competent judge in every cause, as he is a born

legislator, the House of Lords only sits as a common tribunal when it

is represented by the lawyers belonging to its own body. For example,

Lord Brougham or Lord Lyndhurst, both Ex-Chancellors, usually sit in

the morning, and give a final judgment on civil suits brought to that

court.

No divorce can be pronounced but by act of Parliament. The Peers

decide on all process for separation. As in these cases the only

question is about facts which no legal knowledge is required to

comprehend, they are decided indifferently by the Law-Peers, or any

others present at the commencement of the political session. So the

House of Lords is at the same time a court and a legislative chamber;

a barbarous amalgam.

If the strict rules of ceremony were preserved, the Peers should sit

according to their ranks; that is to say, Dukes on the first benches,

Marquisses on the second, and the Barons on the third. This order is,

however, not observed. They range themselves like the Commons,

according to the political party to which they belong, Barons, Earls,

Dukes or Marquisses indiscriminately. During the session just closed,

the ministry of the whigs and their friends, occupied the seats to the

right of the woolsack; the opposition of the tories, those on the

left.

We use the terms “whigs” and “tories,” for these words are most

suitable to the House of Lords. The whole aristocracy being centered

in that House, the Peers only represent themselves; they do not

express the will of such or such a party, but their own will. Lord

Durham and Lord Brougham, both radicals, are anomalies and differ

entirely from their fellows.

The political classification of the House of Lords, is more simple and

easy than that of the Commons. There is at present, as during the last

century, in the Upper House, two different shades of aristocracy,

which fiercely contend for power and the emoluments of office; the

_tories_, consistent at least with their anti-liberal principles, the

triumph of which, if such triumph could be accomplished peacefully and

without a revolution, would be the only safety for the Peerage; the

_whigs_, very much embarrassed by their pretended popular opinions, of

the sincerity of which proofs by acts and not by words, are begun to

be required.

Numerically these two divisions are far from being {549} equal.

Counting consciences, you would have ten tories for one whig. However,

in 1832 the whig minority forced the tories to capitulate; and, since

that time assisted by the pressure from without, it has more than once

dictated the law to its adversaries. But the period is rapidly

approaching when the true majority will attempt to break the yoke,

perceiving that concessions can no longer avail to secure its safety.

It would be at least as becoming to seize the sword, and fall in

defending its ramparts, as to wait seated on its curule chairs, the

political death which threatens it.

The rules and customs of the two chambers in some respects resemble,

and in others differ from each other.

In the House of Lords the members remain covered as in the Commons;

and in the former chamber more etiquette is preserved. It is more rare

to see their Lordships convert their benches into beds, or imitate

with their legs the signs of a telegraph. The murmurs of the House are

more subdued and civilized, the disapprobations expressed with more

courtesy; the arena of discussion generally presents less animating

and striking scenes; there is more concession, and more unity. You

witness none of that strife of common-places which exasperate to so

great a degree the patience and the politeness of the Lower House.

There, for one eloquent harangue, you will have to submit to ten

stupid ones, which serve no other end than to lengthen and injure the

discussion. In the Lords able speakers are not so common, and do not

abuse to so great a degree their right of speaking. It is true that

the Peerage is but a groupe, but a little intrenched garrison; and you

should not expect either reserve, or discretion, or discipline, in

such a multitude as the Commons; an impatient army bivouacing whole

nights on the benches, and where each soldier wishes to be a

conqueror.