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.