collectively; it is an influence which most men—­at least most Englishmen—­feel very much, but of which most Englishmen are somewhat ashamed.  Accordingly, when any number of men are collected together, each of whom worships rank in his heart, the whole body will patiently hear--in many cases will cheer and approve—­some rather strong speeches against rank.  Each man is a little afraid that his “sneaking 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.