much more than a tenth of that in the southern, and the portion of Scotland which supplied this redundant nobility was not much more than a third of the district included in that northern kingdom. The English peers thought that sixteen of these nobles, elected for a single Parliament by the suffrages of the whole order, would have too great an influence in the House. They were in the right; for, in point of fact, this Scotch contingent actually turned the balance, and it was by their means that Harley supplanted the Whigs, brought the war with France to an end, and reduced Marlborough to a private station. The Whig peers avenged themselves by carrying a resolution, in 1711, which disabled any Scotch lord who might be introduced to the English peerage from taking his seat in the House, or from taking part in the trials of peers; while, in the reign of George I, they actually attempted to limit the number of their own order by restraining the King's power of creating peers.

When Walpole and his rival Pulteney were simultaneously ennobled, the ex-Minister is said to have addressed the late leader of the opposition with-"Here we are, my lord, the two most insignificant fellows in the kingdom!" He was alluding to the fact that, though the Lords were still the dominant element in the English Government, the power which they possessed was virtually wielded by those who had bought or inherited the greatest number of nomination boroughs. Such a man was the Duke of Newcastle, the descendant of one among the memorable five members whom Charles attempted to arrest in the House of Commons. Nothing seems to prove more conclusively how wholly aristocratic had been the Revolution of 1688, and how clearly convinced the nobles were that the power which the Crown had hitherto wielded would pass to their hands, than the fact that no attempt whatever was made to reform the House of Commons, and to redress the absurdity by which the representatives of Cornish and Wiltshire villages actually swamped all the English counties by their numbers. It has been alleged that this reform was distasteful, because Cromwell had constructed his Houses of Commons with some regard to numerical equality in the constituencies, and that no precedents of his creation could be acknowledged. It is much more reasonable to conclude that the Lords foresaw the consolidation of their own power in the maintenance of a system which gave the counties and a few large towns freedom of speech in Parliament, and secured the practical control of the Commons though the nomination boroughs. During the eighteenth century, whatever political independence there was in the House

of Commons was to be found in the counties and a very few boroughs.

The dullest page in English history is that of the century in which the English aristocracy managed the nation's affairs. It contains, however, one episode the effects of which are greater and more lasting than any series of connected events in the history of civilized man. The Seven Years' war settled for ever the question as to which of the European races should effect the colonization of the world. In 1750 it might have been well believed that France was destined for this function, or at least for the largest share in it. The peace of Paris not only stripped France of her colonies, but extinguished colonial enterprise among her people. Henceforward all movements from the Old World are absorbed and lost in the great exodus of the English-speaking race. Nothing has ever been so critical as the issue of that struggle which gave Northern America and India to the English people, which gave them also the first start in the race by which they have occupied every place of vantage in fresh countries. It was as though the angel of Fate had said, though no one had the wisdom to hear him, to the whole of Europe, other than the British Islands: "Too late, too late! ye can not enter now!” But this work was not done by the English aristocracy; it was effected by an adventurer, and, to all appearance, one of the least promising of adventurers-by the son of a man who had been dignified by the title of a governor, when he was really the manager of a trading-factory in India, and who had got wealth by dealing in a stolen diamond. But the elder Pitt was an Englishman, and knew how to deal with the instincts of his countrymen. In the Seven Years' war he conquered the world for his race.

The aristocracy of England were at their wits' end for money wherewith to meet the charges of this war, for in the middle of the eighteenth century a direct tax on land was the most important and the most obvious item in the national revenue. They therefore claimed a contribution from the plantations; and, though it is certain that, had the colonists been properly invited to aid in the charge incurred, they would have cheerfully taken such a share of the burden as their resources would have permitted them, they resented the high-handed mode on which the English Parliament determined. Then came the War of Independence. The acknowledgment of American independence led in England to the abolition of that control over the Irish Parliament which had lasted since the reign of Henry VII, and of that penal code by which the aristoo

racy of the Revolution intended to extinguish the religion and the nationality of the Irish. But the greatest issue of the American War of Independence was the outbreak of the French Revolution, the natural but frantic fears of the English nobility, the reaction which Pitt was too timid to resist and too ambitious not to utilize, and the postponement for nearly half a century of Parliamentary reform. It is admitted by Sir A. Alison, the Tory historian, that the war with republican France was undertaken in order to obviate the demand for reform, for English politicians are aware that hitherto nothing has been so effectual a barrier to any change, however necessary it may be, as the committal of the people to a vigorous foreign policy-the maintenance, in political phraseology, of the place of England in the Continental system.

At last, but only by the force of such widespread disaffection as almost amounted to a popular revolt, Parliamentary reform was conceded. It was not a very drastic measure, for, though many decayed towns and deserted villages were disfranchised, the distribution of representation remained very unequal, and, even under a second reform act, is still full of anomalies. But the power of the House of Lords fell with the first Reform Bill. The English aristocracy is indeed, thanks to the concentration of land in few hands, still exceedingly powerful, possessing the whole of one House and being overwhelmingly strong in the other; though the estimate which is made of their income, even if they had, as they notoriously have not, their land free of charges and mortgages, is not more than an eighth of the reputed income or earnings of the whole nation. But they do not any longer directly control the policy of the nation. An administration may be inconvenienced, but it is not at all imperiled when it is in a very decided minority in the Lords, if it be not strengthened by such a contingency. When a Conservative administration is in office, nothing is likely to disturb the calm of the House of Lords. When a Liberal government is in power and is strong, the resistance of the Lords to a measure is nearly as obsolete as the veto of the Crown, though the practice of reading and debating bills in the Lords certainly tends to the delay of business, and the upper Chamber is occasionally able by such delays and by their amendments to postpone a change or to modify it. But it is not easy to conceive that this Chamber would put any serious obstacle in the way of popular demand. Perhaps this is the reason why, when noblemen respond to the toast of the House

of Lords, they are frequently accustomed to speak of it as, after all, a representative body.

The Lords rarely meet in any number, and their debates are soon over. An after-dinner sitting or a general gathering is a very exceptional event. Were it not for the understanding that a certain number of the Cabinet shall be in the upper House (a mere conventional arrangement), it is probable that it would be often difficult to get a House together at all, even though there is no rule that there should be a quorum present. The writer once asked a Liberal peer of his acquaintance why it was that the House had not established a standing order constraining the younger peers at least to serve on committees, and was answered that "it was hard enough to get a dozen peers together for business, and that, were such a burden put on them, so numerous a gathering would be impossible." It is true that a few of the lords work very hard. The writer once expressed his surprise at the incessant and varied labors of one among these industrious peers, and was told that "some of them must work in order to save the whole from absolute inanition and futility." In point of fact, the English nobility understands its altered position, and is at no pains to affect diligence in the business of a Chamber which has no real business to do; which is contentedly idle when Conservatism is in the ascendant, and is discontentedly idle when Liberalism is at once active and popular. But, even if the Lords were ever so willing to work, they could not find work to do, for their activity would be suspicious and would be resented. Frequent demonstrations by the order, large gatherings, energetic debates, long division lists, would be met with irritation or treated with contempt. On all great matters, the peers of the English Parliament are impotent, and their speeches excite little more than the languid interest of a debating club seated in an historic Chamber. As a genuine political force, the upper House is practically obsolete and unreal. It retains the pomp and show of its ancient dignity, the Speaker and the Commons are still summoned to its bar, when the Clerk of Parliament, after solemn reverences to the throne and the commissioners, haughtily informs the mouth-piece of the lower House that the royal assent has been given, or that the gifts of good subjects have been accepted; but the power which the House wielded from the Restoration to the Reform Bill has become a pageant. As a legislative body, the Lords have become, as Walpole said, "the most insignificant fellows in the kingdom."

If, as many, perhaps most, publicists allege, the coördinate ac

tivity of two Chambers is necessary for the balance of political forces, the English nation is not possessed of this requisite in the House of Lords. But, as is generally the case with countries where government is administered on the lines of an unwritten constitution, the English people has secured a double Chamber in the Cabinet and the lower House-the latter expression implying the unofficial part of the Commons, and with the result referred to above, that this informal Chamber, the Cabinet, which is always in session, really, and by means of its following, dominates over the opposition. This is illustrated by the fact that it is very difficult for a private member, however numerous and respectable may be his following, and however reasonable may be his proposals, to carry what is called a private as opposed to a government measure through the House; and impossible, unless the government of the day favors or accedes to his projected law. This fact explains what must be strange to those who study the working of the English Parliament, how it often happens that a measure, propounded by a private member, may be rejected by decisive majorities in one session, and be carried by as decisive a majority, and by the same Parliament, in another session. Another noteworthy fact is, that no economist in the House of Commons, however energetic and persevering he may be, and however good a case he may make out, ever succeeds in rejecting or even in reducing an estimate. It does not follow that his labor is thrown away, for governments are very sensitive to criticism in supply, or at least very unwilling to provoke opposition to their estimates; but the direct effect of divisions on government expenditure, even in the smallest details, is practically nil. For nearly a quarter of a century the late Mr. Joseph Hume strove to check government expenditure by criticism, and confessed that all his efforts had been unavailing, all his time wasted. But he stuck manfully to his habit. In nearly the last year of his life, when the Duke of Wellington was being buried in St. Paul's with great and lingering pomp, an acquaintance of the writer, who, holding some official rank, was placed near the aged economist in the cathedral, heard him say sadly, in the most solemn part of the service: "Great Heaven! who is to pay for all this?" He had no doubt that the House of Commons would sanction the payment for the last ostrich-feather and the last yard of crape.

The Lords appear to be conscious that they have in their hereditary capacity an anomalous position, for they have at last conceded. to the administration permission to create a limited number of life