ination. They had
their days of idleness and weakness, as, for instance, that strange time
when they allowed themselves to be seduced by the vessels loaded with
cheeses, hams, and Greek wines sent them by Julius II. The English
aristocracy was restless, haughty, ungovernable, watchful, and
patriotically mistrustful. It was that aristocracy which, at the end of
the seventeenth century, by act the tenth of the year 1694, deprived the
borough of Stockbridge, in Hampshire, of the right of sending members to
Parliament, and forced the Commons to declare null the election for
that borough, stained by papistical fraud. It imposed the test on James,
Duke of York, and, on his refusal to take it, excluded him from the
throne. He reigned, notwithstanding; but the Lords wound up by calling
him to account and banishing him. That aristocracy has had, in its long
duration, some instinct of progress. It has always given out a certain
quantity of appreciable light, except now towards its end, which is at
hand. Under James II. it maintained in the Lower House the proportion of
three hundred and forty-six burgesses against ninety-two knights. The
sixteen barons, by courtesy, of the Cinque Ports were more than
counterbalanced by the fifty citizens of the twenty-five cities. Though
corrupt and egotistic, that aristocracy was, in some instances,
singularly impartial. It is harshly judged. History keeps all its
compliments for the Commons. The justice of this is doubtful. We
consider the part played by the Lords a very great one. Oligarchy is the
independence of a barbarous state, but it is an independence. Take
Poland, for instance, nominally a kingdom, really a republic. The peers
of England held the throne in suspicion and guardianship. Time after
time they have made their power more felt than that of the Commons. They
gave check to the king. Thus, in that remarkable year, 1694, the
Triennial Parliament Bill, rejected by the Commons, in consequence of
the objections of William III., was passed by the Lords. William III.,
in his irritation, deprived the Earl of Bath of the governorship of
Pendennis Castle, and Viscount Mordaunt of all his offices. The House of
Lords was the republic of Venice in the heart of the royalty of England.
To reduce the king to a doge was its object; and in proportion as it
decreased the power of the crown it increased that of the people.
Royalty knew this, and hated the peerage. Each endeavoured to lessen the
other