'MY DEAR SIR CHARLES,--The name of the gentleman _to be
returned_ for Cashel is Robert Peel, Esq., of Drayton
Bassett, in the county of Stafford.--Ever yours, &c.,
ARTHUR WELLESLEY.'[26]
Such were the methods by which the reigning oligarchy, operating hand
in hand with the Sovereign, secured a majority in the House of
Commons, and thus controlled the policy of the nation, under the false
pretence that it emanated from the people. To a great extent this
system was destroyed by the first Reform Bill. The great grievance of
the day was redressed by a substantial measure. It is commonly said
that the political effect of that statute was to assign the real power
of the nation to the custody of the 'middle classes.' This is not a
perfectly accurate statement of the change. The powers of the State
were not made over by that measure to the merchants and tradesmen of
the country, for the influence of the landed interest was even
augmented by the Reform Act, and, though diminished, was not abolished
in the boroughs. The effect of the new electoral law was made apparent
by its securing for a time the preponderance of the popular and
reforming party. It turned the scale for many years, and just enabled
the Liberal party to carry a series of measures in harmony with
intelligent public opinion. It was a tree of justice and freedom that
bore abundant fruit. It is hardly too much to affirm that _every great
law_ under which we are now living and working was made or amended in
the quarter of a century which followed the Reform Act, and is due to
the Liberal party. But useful and fruitful as that measure was, it was
not in the nature of things that it should be final. The opinions of
enlightened men, and the desire of the masses, agreed in promoting
some extension of the franchise, and after several futile attempts it
was reserved for the Tories to effect it. The surrender was a strange
and inexplicable transaction. Carlyle thus deals with it in that queer
phraseology in which he chooses to address society:--
'Have I not a kind of secret satisfaction of the malicious,
or even the judiciary kind (mischief-joy the Germans call
it, but really it is justice-joy withal), that he they call
"Dizzy" is to do it--a superlative conjuror, spell-binding
all the great lords, great parties, great interests of
England to his hand in this manner, and leading them by the
nose like helpless, mesmerised, somnambulant cattle, to
such issue?'[27]
In other words, we obtained from the natural opponents of
constitutional change a political act which may be likened to the
'happy despatch,' and was hardly inferior to a revolution. The very
centre of political gravity was displaced. The middle classes were
dethroned. The late Lord Derby described his own operation as a 'leap
in the dark,' and in a facetious mood is said to have confessed that
it was intended 'to diddle the Whigs.' Surely this act of prodigious
inconsistency was beyond justification or even excuse. The Liberal
party would have shrunk from so vast a change until education had
struck its roots more deeply into the unenfranchised population. The
Tory party, on the contrary, determined to enfranchise the people,
before they educated them, and it is our duty to acquiesce and realize
our position. It is not for us to predict the future fate and fortunes
of that incomprehensible party. They will gradually open their eyes to
the full meaning of their own political deeds, and that meaning,
expressed in one pregnant word, is Democracy.
But though we cannot reconcile the Conservative theories with
Conservative practice, Tory professions with democratic statutes, it
is not difficult to discover causes which pushed the party into such
violent action. The obvious tendency of the age is to advance towards
democratic institutions. Everywhere in Europe--Russia and Turkey
excepted--power now springs from popular opinion and liberal
institutions, of which the invariable impulse is not to rest, sleep,
and be thankful, but to move, advance, and be doing.
'When a nation modifies the electoral qualification, it may
easily be foreseen that sooner or later that qualification
will be entirely abolished. There is no more invariable
rule in the history of society. The further the electoral
rights are extended, the more is felt the need of them; for
after each concession the strength of the democracy
increases, and its demands increase with its strength.
Concession follows concession, and no stop can be made
short of universal suffrage.'[28]
To apply this theory to the facts of Europe, it is evident that while
at no distant period the policy of almost the whole continent was
directed by the reigning sovereigns, we now discern the sovereignty of
the people, in _esse_ or _posse_, not less widely established. The
causes which have led to this consummation are by no means obscure.
The creation of municipal corporations introduced a democratic element
into the area of despotisms. The invention of printing cheapened the
diffusion of ideas. The post circulated information further and
further, until its work seems to be almost perfected by steam and
electricity. The Reformation lifted vast weights from the human mind.
Slowly, but surely, the European populations have arrived at the
comprehension of their just claims, and have decided that the end of
government shall be the happiness of the people, and not the
exaltation of the few. Thus it has come to pass that everywhere
democracy is in the ascendant, and prerogative on the wane. Is not
this assertion corroborated and exemplified in the political affairs
of our own country? Can anyone honestly and fairly deny that the
supremacy of the popular will is established? 'The people'--that
mighty aggregate of millions of minds, whom Aristophanes delighted to
caricature under the _sobriquet_ of 'Demus'--is certainly invested
with sovereign power. It may be that, like him, we are sometimes
crotchety, sometimes too fond of oratorical blandishment, sometimes
hasty in our judgments, and occasionally liable to panics.
Notwithstanding these and other infirmities, public opinion, formed by
the leading spirits of the day, 'rules and reigns without control.'
'You, Demus, have a nice domain!
For all men fear you, and you reign
As though you were a king.'[29]
It is true that we have to act by delegation, because we cannot meet
to legislate _en masse_. It is also true that the authority of the
people is veiled and masked by antiquated forms and customs, which,
perhaps, are wisely retained. 'Why, every one,' says Monarchicus,
'calls it a monarchy.' 'It may be very audacious,' says
Aristocraticus, 'but I consider it a republic. By a republic, I mean
every government in which sovereign power is distributed in form and
substance among a body of persons.' This was the language of the late
lamented Sir George Cornewall Lewis before Mr. Disraeli's democratic
change. How would he have made Aristocraticus describe the
Constitution now? Not, surely, as a republic, but as a democratic
republic. So, on the 17th of February, 1870, Lord Lyveden, speaking in
the House of Lords, said,--'The real truth is that the _government is
in the House of Commons_.' If it be argued that the well-settled Crown
and the hereditary peerage are incidents which still distinguish our
constitution from those of republican and democratic states, we answer
that the constitution does not depend upon names, forms, and symbols,
but upon the answer to this question, 'Where does the real power
reside?' No candid and well-informed person would now attempt to
contend that either the Crown or the peerage, or both, can offer any
permanent obstruction to the measures desired and indicated by the
popular will. With reference to the Crown, the _Times_ has recently
held the following remarkable language:--'What can one say but that
the Crown has no right or will in this free country but that which is
consistent, and does not clash with the rights and will of the people
as represented in Parliament?' With reference to the House of Lords,
it would be easy, if space were at our command, to cite sentence after
sentence from speeches in that highly-educated assembly, which would
show the opinion of its leading members that its functions are now
limited to amendments, to modifications, and to postponements of
measures, and do not extend to the act of thwarting or nullifying the
clearly-expressed will of the representative House, with respect to
any important subject. It is true that in one respect the democratic
power seems to be kept in abeyance. We do not see the working man in
Parliament. Plutocracy, or the money power, has still great influence
in the representative House. The elections and the social position are
too expensive for busy working people. But the pecuniary obstacles
will be gradually removed, and many men of humble position, but real
ability, will make their way into the House. This is a mere question
of time. For the present, the representatives of the people must needs
be wealthy. But the day is not distant when many a borough, and even
some counties, will be represented by men of the class and order which
form the basis of the constituencies. There cannot be a doubt that the
work of a very few years will diminish, if not abolish, the expenses
of elections, and make the all-powerful House almost as democratic as
the constituencies.
It is under these circumstances that we approach two great questions,
the public discussion of which cannot be much longer deferred. First,
can the continuance of a purely hereditary and ennobled branch of the
legislature be reconciled with the state of things we have portrayed?
Secondly, ought the further and continuous creation of hereditary
social honours to be permitted by the people of a free and
substantially democratic state?
In dealing with the first of these inquiries, the thought that
naturally comes into the mind is this--what a wonderful anomaly and
apparent departure from sound sense is the creation of an
_hereditary_ legislature! The function of making laws for millions of
free people is calculated to tax to the utmost the mental energy of
the ablest men. The high duties of a lawgiver have always, in theory
at least, been entrusted by civilized states to their best and wisest
citizens. But our knowledge of the laws of succession does not teach
us that as a rule the wise beget the wise. On the contrary, experience
continually confirms the truth of Solomon's lamentation, 'I hated all
my labour which I had taken under the sun: because I should leave it
unto the man that shall come after me, and who knoweth whether he
shall be a wise man or a fool?'[30] 'Fortes creantur fortibus et
bonis,' said Horace. No doubt that is physically true to a great
extent, but the transmission of intellect is a very different matter.
We have heard it asserted that no bishop ever left an eminent son. The
present Lord Ellenborough, a son of the late Bishop Law, is a signal
exception; but where is another to be found? How many British peers
whose honours are derived from ancestors of genius and capacity, who
in their day rendered good service to the nation, are now contributing
anything to the legislative power of the House of Lords? Do we now
hear the senatorial utterances, or obtain any political counsels, from
our contemporary Portland or Wellington, Bedford or Leeds, Exeter or
Camden; Macclesfield or Oxford, Somers or Effingham; Sandwich,
Hardwicke, Mansfield, or Eldon; Hood, St. Vincent, Exmouth, or
Bridport; Kenyon, Erskine, Tenterden, or Wynford; Rodney, Abinger,
Hill, or Keane? Yet all these are honourable titles held and enjoyed
by men who inherited them from ancestors who deserved well of their
country. Nor are these all the peers who have never done anything in
public life to justify the hereditary honours bestowed on their
meritorious ancestors. The list might be greatly enlarged. Others,
again, may be counted by the hundred, whose honours have no nobler
origin than Court favour or Parliamentary influence, and who utterly
abdicate their legislative functions. In truth, the working department
of the House of Lords is generally in the hands of five or six aged
barristers, who have won their coronets by their brains, and a dozen
or so of active peers, whose high attainments attract the confidence
of their fellows. Is it possible to contend that this is a healthy
organization of a co-ordinate branch of the imperial legislature? It
is true that there are many men of great ability in the House, and
many more of truly noble but retiring character, who reside wholly or
for the most part on their estates. But of these a very small
proportion take the trouble to attend the debates, and even in the
present session, Lord Granville was obliged to remark, that 'the large
number of peers _who do not attend the debates_ ought to be called
upon to serve on committees.' There is no doubt that the peerage
contains excellent materials for a senate, and that practically the
power of the whole is now delegated to a part. But though this is the
case under ordinary circumstances, it cannot be right that the
majority of the House, idle hereditary legislators, should lie dormant
and apart from the working bees during the ordinary days of the
session, and only wake up and rush to town under the extraordinary
pressure of a great party division. It may be argued, however, that a
second chamber is a valuable element in the Constitution, and that the
hereditary principle is of the very essence of our political system.
As to the importance of a second chamber, we make no dispute. On the
principle of a division of labour, it is wanted for the despatch of
business, and it is also required for the interposition of discussion
and delay between the hasty introduction of bills and the final act of
legislation. As to the hereditary element, it cannot be denied that
for several centuries it has been fully recognised and established.
But there are good reasons to believe that it is part and parcel of a
comparatively modern Constitution, and that it did not prevail in
those days when the germs of our institutions were in their early
growth. The fact is that all our titles of honour seem to have been
originally derived _from offices_. That of duke, the highest of the
hereditary titles, is evidently derived from 'dux' and 'duc;' words
used to signify a leader, and a man of merit. But this was a foreign
use of the word which never obtained in England, and it was not
introduced at all before the time of Edward the Black Prince. The
title of 'marquess' designated originally the persons who had charge
of the 'marches' of the country; that is, the boundaries, _marks_, or
border lands between Scotland and England, and England and Wales. An
earl derives his title from the earldorman of the Anglo-Saxons, and
the earle of the Danes. It was afterwards adopted by the Conqueror,
and both in his time and previously, was the designation of certain
high officials. The viscount or vicecomes, was originally the deputy
of the earl, count or comes, but its adoption as an English dignity is
involved in some obscurity. The lowest of our hereditary titles is
that of 'baron,' which originally designated those persons who held
lands of a superior by military and other services, and who were bound
to give attendance in the court of the superior, and assist in the
business there transacted. In plain language, these ancient titles
indicated _appointments_ for life of various kinds, or duties
connected with property which, as a rule, had been bestowed as a
reward for merit.
'From virtue first began,
The difference that distinguished man from man;
He claimed no title from descent of blood,
But that which made him noble made him good.'[31]
Such being the origin of the British titles of nobility, we pass to
the origin of the aggregate peerage in their position as a separate
and hereditary branch of the legislature. It is well ascertained that
the Saxon kings were not authorized to make new laws or impose taxes
without the sanction of the 'witan,' in which the Thanes and the
prelates of the church had seats. It is also certain that in Normandy
there was a council of Norman barons, which the dukes were bound to
consult on all important occasions. The Anglo-Norman kings of England
continued to recognise the custom, and duly summoned and consulted
their great council. All who held land immediately from the Crown had
a right to attend, and these were originally designated the king's
barons. Besides these, the prelates and the principal abbots and
priors were expected to attend. No other persons had the right to
appear except in the attitude of petitioners. It is probable that many
of the Crown tenants found it inconvenient and expensive to be present
as regularly as the great proprietors, and by degrees the title of
'peer' and 'baron,' which at first had been common to all the king's
immediate tenants, came to be applied to a few great feudatories of
the Crown. This state of things is actually recognised in Magna Charta
in these words,--'We shall cause the archbishops, bishops, abbots,
earls, and _greater barons_ to be separately summoned by our letters.'
Here, then, we have the origin of the temporal peers of the realm in
their own House. The temporal peerage was evidently a body of the most
powerful landowners. Now, at that time and for many years after, there
was no legal power of devising real estates by will. The estates
descended from heir to heir, and the successor of a great feudal baron
came in course of time to be regarded as standing in the position of
his predecessors as to the right to be summoned by letters patent to
the royal council. Thus the notion of hereditary descent became
associated with the position and privileges of a great baron. At a
later period the status of peerage was extended to others, who were
not tenants in chief, but were summoned by writ to take their places
in the council. Still later, the sovereign took upon himself to
_create_ peerages by letters patent, which seem to have conferred the
privilege of hereditary descent. Finally, it became a fixed maxim in
constitutional laws that the person summoned by royal writ to the
House of Lords acquired a right not only to sit in that particular
parliament, but the right for himself and certain heirs to become
hereditary peers of the realm. Thus a complete inroad was gradually
made upon the early connection between the peerage and the tenure of
property; and the general result was that Lords of Parliament took
their seats by virtue of tenure, of writs, of letters patent, and, in
a few isolated cases, by Act of Parliament.[32] In the time of Lord
Coke the number of peers was about 100; at the time of the Revolution
of 1688 the House consisted of about 150 lay and 26 spiritual peers,
and at the present time it reckons nearly 500 members. We found no
argument upon the special privileges possessed by the order of nobles.
With the exception of their appellate jurisdiction, they are neither
numerous nor important, and the judicial functions which are now very
efficiently exercised by some of the ablest lawyers of the day will
probably be remodelled in the course of the reforms in the
administration of justice which are now very near at hand.
The facts and circumstances thus briefly stated form the materials for
an answer to our first question, namely, Can the continuance of a
purely hereditary branch of the legislature harmonize with the vast
democratic change which was described in the earlier pages of this
article? The answer is short and simple. Considering the spread of
education, the increasing circulation of literature and newspapers,
the growing influence of commerce and manufactures, the omnipotent
force of public opinion, and the increasing importance of the middle
classes, it certainly appears that the House of Lords is not now
satisfactorily constituted for a senate. It consists of a large number
of members who feel themselves under no obligation to take part in its
deliberations. It is acted upon only _indirectly_ by public opinion.
Its members belong almost exclusively to one class and interest, and
all stand on the same social platform. Moreover, two out of the three
chief interests of the nation--that is, the manufacturing and
commercial interests--are scarcely represented in that House. Under
these circumstances, it appears to us that some alteration in the
constitution of this noble House is a mere question of time. In the
famous debate of April, 1866, upon Lord Russell's project of reform,
Mr. Lowe, in one of the cleverest speeches ever delivered in the House
of Commons, used the following words:--
'Let us suppose democracy established more or less in this
country: with what eyes would it look upon institutions
such as I have described--what would be the relation of
this House to the House of Peers? I shall call a witness
who will tell you. Eight years ago the honourable member
for Birmingham inverted the course he is now taking; he now
seeks to secure the means, he then proclaimed the end. Then
he said, "See what I'll do for you if you give me reform."
Now he says, "Give me reform, and I shall do nothing." His
words were, "As to the House of Peers, I do not believe
they themselves believe that they are a permanent
institution." What do you suppose would become of the House
of Peers with democratic franchises?'
Such was the prophecy of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Its
realization may be distant, but we venture to say it is certain. What
the nature of the change ought to be, we can but faintly hint. And, be
it remembered, that it is in no wild spirit of revolution, but rather
in the temper of sober conservation, that even a suggestion of this
kind is hazarded. We believe, then, that the needful change may be
made in perfect harmony with recognised principles of the present
Constitution. Surely a more serviceable House would be secured by
introducing the same system of election and delegation amongst the
peers of the realm that now prevails among the peers of Scotland and
Ireland. In the next place, a certain number of high offices of State
might be connected with life-seats in the House of Lords. The Crown
might be empowered to introduce a limited number of peers for life.
Lastly, it might be practicable, though doubtless very difficult, to
import into the House the direct influence of public opinion by some
kind of public election. The composition of the Herrenhaus, or House
of Lords of Prussia, offers the model of a very useful assembly. It
consists of princes of the royal family; sixteen chiefs of certain
other princely houses; about fifty heads of the territorial nobility;
a number of life peers chosen by the king from the class of rich
landowners, great manufacturers, and _national celebrities_; eight
titled noblemen _elected_ in the eight provinces of Prussia by the
resident landowners of all degrees; the representatives of the
Universities; the heads of religious chapters; the mayors of towns of
more than 50,000 inhabitants; and a few other peers nominated by the
king, under certain limitations, for a less period than life. The
Upper House in Spain is partly composed of hereditary peers, and
partly of peers for life. The peerage of Portugal is for life. And
thus we might go on, from Chamber to Chamber, and prove that the
British House of Lords is the only legislative Chamber in the world in
which the hereditary system alone prevails. This fact alone, taken in
connection with the rapid progress of political events, and the other
circumstances which have been slightly touched upon, may suffice to
justify us in affirming that the continuance of a purely hereditary
House of Lords, unmodified by delegation or election, is not in
harmony with the rest of our Constitution.
The last question to be answered is this: Ought the further creation
of hereditary dignities to be permitted by a people enjoying the wide
and liberal franchises of this country? It must not, however, be
supposed that this inquiry must needs touch or involve the advantages
or disadvantages of an hereditary sovereign. The king or reigning
queen of these realms has special functions by virtue of the
Constitution, which, under any circumstances, must be intrusted to
some hands, and it is hard to imagine any order of affairs more
beneficial to the people than the present; for our sovereign is not
merely entrusted with attributes which affect the imagination, she
holds a position not less useful than splendid as the visible head of
this mighty Commonwealth. There ought to be the least possible
latitude for the jealousies and rivalries of the leading spirits of
the State. But if the most exalted position is open to competition,
the most powerful minds may be diverted by evil influences from the
line of duty. The hereditary office of the sovereign ought to be
tenderly and loyally upheld as being not merely a picturesque
decoration of the State, but subserving most important purposes, by
preventing intrigue, and by visibly representing the nation in a form
most attractive to society. The present question, therefore, has no
reference to the sovereign. The inquiry is, whether the _minor_
hereditary dignities can be continuously and freshly created
consistently with our apparent advances towards social and political
equality. The answer may be found in the lines of Dr. Johnson:
'Let observation with extensive view,
Survey mankind from China to Peru.'
He who thus looks from the watch-tower must perceive that the
political movement of nations is almost everywhere in _one_ direction.
He might suppose that one transcendental law was slowly overruling the
world--the law under which equality is advancing, and artificial
inequalities disappearing. It would seem that the desire for equality
marches hand in hand with civilization. Nowhere in the world will the
inquirer discover that _hereditary_ privileges _are being created_
except in England, though the order of ancient nobility is by no means
rare. The defenders of the order of nobility will urge that the
distinction of rank is necessary for the reward of public services,
and to stimulate and encourage others. Virtuous ambition is,
doubtless, a spring of action which produces excellent results.
Blackstone says that 'a body of nobility creates and preserves that
gradual scale of dignity which proceeds from the peasant to the
prince, rising like a pyramid from a broad foundation, and diminishing
to a point as it rises. It is this ascending and contracting
proportion _which adds stability_ to any government.'[33] Historical
research can alone determine the amount of truth contained in these
assertions. The general proposition that public honours of some kind
are valuable incidents in every country can hardly be disputed. But
does it necessarily follow that those honours should be hereditary? We
know that many of the truest patriots in ancient and modern times have
desired no other reward than posthumous fame and the esteem of their
fellow-citizens. Was Washington, for example, moved by the glitter of
any hereditary honours to devote himself to the good of his country?
Or Pericles, Epaminondas, or Tell; Pym, Hampden, Peel, or Cobden? Peel
had inherited his baronetcy, and by will forbade his heirs to accept
the hereditary peerage. Take the case of Mr. Peabody. Society
regretted that he declined the riband of the Bath, but how unsuitable
a reward for his grand Christian munificence would a coronet and a
title have been. It was natural to ask in his case, 'What shall be
done to the man whom the king delighteth to honour?' The only answer
is, 'Let his memory be embalmed in the loving esteem of two great
nations.' To him virtue was its own reward. The mass of mankind are of
less elevated quality. It would be unwise, and even dangerous, to
dispense with public rewards for public services. But surely it is an
unreasonable method of recompensing the services of a great citizen to
confer title, dignity, and rank, not only upon himself, but upon his
descendants for ever. The services of the great Duke of Marlborough
may have merited a high recompense, but it is strange that one hundred
and fifty years after his decease his great-great-grandson should be
born a duke on the score of his ancestor's merits--
'Honours best thrive
When rather from _our_ acts we them derive
Than our foregoers.'[34]
It seems monstrous that in a State in which the power of the people is
fully recognised, any artificial exaltation of one family above
another should be perpetuated apart from personal merit. Far be it,
however, from the writer of these pages to desire the abolition of
existing dignities. They are vested interests which it becomes us to
respect, though it is difficult to tolerate any longer the fresh and
needless elevation of more families above the rest in perpetuity. The
political exigencies of the State cannot possibly require it, and if
it is not necessary it is unjust. It may be said that the House of
Lords must be recruited by the infusion of fresh blood; but it has
been shown that the House is already too full, and rather needs
reduction than expansion. At all events, the grants of peerages for
life would enable the Crown to place many 'national celebrities' in
the Upper House who, from want of fortune, would decline the honour if
it must necessarily descend to a poor son. It may also be urged that
the objection to a further creation of hereditary honours has its
source in the envy of the human heart; but in truth the objection is
simply founded upon a sense of the abstract _injustice_ of the
inheritance of honour, title, and exalted social rank unless it be
justified by merit of some kind. How can it be _just_ that if neither
policy nor merit justify the ordinance, the State should make one
family superior in perpetuity in all the social incidents of
precedence and rank to thousands of other families? It is affectation
to deny that social circumstances of this nature are greatly valued.
They influence the life and fortunes of the men and women of the
ennobled families in a high degree. _Cæteris paribus_, the son of the
nobleman and the son of the commoner do not start in the race of life
upon equal terms. The younger son of a peer will, in all probability,
attain any object he may have in view with less difficulty than the
son of a plain esquire. He will have a better chance of entering the
diplomatic service, of becoming a member of the House of Commons, of
obtaining a nomination for the civil service, of entering the navy, of
getting a commission in one of the best regiments, and of preferment
in the Church. Is it just that these purely artificial advantages
should be accorded to more families than those which already
accidentally possess them? There may be enthusiastic admirers of the
order of nobles, who will affirm that they are necessary for the
safety and balance of society. But such enthusiasts will do well to
listen to the weighty words of Bacon, who, treating of 'nobility,'
wrote thus: 'For democracies, they need it not, and they are commonly
more quiet, and less subject to sedition than where they are stirps of
nobles. For men's eyes are upon the business and not upon the
persons.... We see the Switzers last well, notwithstanding their
diversity of religion and of cantons. For utility is their bond and
not respects. The United Provinces of the Low Countries in their
Government excel. For where there is equality the consultations are
more indifferent, and the payments and tributes more cheerful.'[35]
Thus this great man goes further than the present argument is intended
to advance. It is not suggested that a flat social equality is
practicable or desirable in civilized life. It may exist in theory,
but it fails in practice. Dr. Johnson proved this in his peculiar
fashion to a lady who was an enthusiastic republican,--'Madame,' said
he, 'I am become a convert to your way of thinking; I am convinced
that all mankind are upon an equal footing; and to give you an
unquestionable proof that I am in earnest, here is a sensible, civil,
well-behaved fellow-citizen--_your footman_; I beg that he may be
allowed to sit down and dine with us. I thus, sir, showed her the
absurdity of the levelling doctrine. She has never liked me since.' So
Count Mirabeau was unable to tolerate his own theory of equality.
Returning one day from the assembly in which he had pressed that
doctrine with great power, he ordered and entered a warm bath. 'More
hot, Antoine.' 'Yes, citizen,' said Antoine. Whereupon Mirabeau seized
his man by the head and plunged it into the bath. It may be that Dr.
Johnson, who was an earnest advocate for the subordination of ranks,
was sound in his views with reference to general happiness. But it
must be admitted that the greatest experiment ever made of theoretical
equality--that of the United States--has not been unsuccessful. It may
be true, as affirmed by De Tocqueville, that 'the men who are entrusted
with the direction of public affairs in that country are frequently
inferior, both in capacity and morality, to those whom aristocratic
institutions would raise to power. But their interest _is identified
with that of the majority_ of their fellow-citizens. They may
frequently be faithless, and frequently mistaken; but they will never
systematically adopt a line of conduct opposed to the will of the
majority.' If we turn to our own great political experiments--those of
our principal colonies--the result is upon the whole satisfactory. No
local dignities are there created or inherited. It would, perhaps, be
expedient that great public services should be rewarded by the
creation of baronetcies for life in the colonies. But though nothing
of this kind is known in any of them--except by the casual importation
of some poor cadet of a noble British family--prosperity, good order,
and all the elements of social and political well-being, are secured
and developed more and more. The great colonies of Australia, which
enjoy the full rights of autonomy, and are only connected with the
mother country by one slender thread, through which no maternal
influence really passes, have thus furnished evidence that liberty,
equality, and order may exist together.
We have already averred that this article is not intended to promote
any levelling assault upon any existing dignity. Nor do we think it is
expedient that a flat table-land of social equality should be created
in this old country. Let public services be rewarded not only by
gratitude and esteem, but by dignities and honours coincident with the
life of the grantees. Honorary decorations, too, might be more
extensively conferred, and would surely be worn with as much
gratification by the deserving plebeian as the blue or red ribbon by
the noblest aristocrat of the bluest blood. Let sculpture, painting,
and architecture do their best to perpetuate the memory of 'national
celebrities.' Let us construct a Walhalla of worthies in which
Englishmen shall deem it the highest attainable honour to be reckoned.
And as Pericles nobly said to the Athenians,--'I shall begin with our
forefathers, for it is fair and right that the honours of
commemoration should be accorded to them. For the same people
constantly dwelling in this land did by their valour hand it down in
freedom to posterity. Well worthy of praise were they, and still more
worthy are our own fathers; for they, in addition to their
inheritance, won by the sweat of their brow the imperial position we
now hold, and transmitted it to us of the present generation.' So let
us recall and commemorate every unselfish public life, all genius
dedicated to the nation's good, and all those _quasi_ inspirations of
the native mind which set a mark upon their age, and tinge the thought
of successive generations. Nor let us shrink and shiver as we see the
irresistible advance of the democratic wave. The most timid may take
courage by studying the attempted legislation of the Commonwealth. To
that period may be traced the source of nearly all our best laws and
largest reforms. The reactionary powers blighted the attempted work of
enlightened men, and it has only come to maturity within living
memory, or is even now ripening. Let us never forget that it is our
first duty to educate the democracy, to purify its morals, and so to
modify the distribution of public honours that merit and its reward
may never be severed. Exalted rank derived from birth alone must be
permitted to die out by flux of time, and meritorious industry must be
warmly cherished.
'The smoke ascends
To heaven, as lightly from the cottage hearth
As from the haughty palace. He whose soul
Ponders this true equality may walk
The fields of earth with gratitude and hope.'[36]