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