THE CHARM OF RANK.
'WHY is a man with a title better liked by electors than a man without one ? It is the fashion just now, we believe, with election agents to deny that this is the case, and even to assert that the eldest son of a great Peer has less chance of being returned to Parliament than any commoner who is locally known ; but we fancy they speak either on local information, or from a wish to discourage candidates whom they suspect of an inclination to underrate the value of professional assistance and advice. So far as we can per- ceive, what Mrs. Oliphant in one of her stories calls the " magic of rank," is as operative now as it ever was both with electors and with those whose favour gives the newly elected their first chance of getting on. A Lord Randolph Churchill will be accepted by a district as its representative at a much earlier age than a Mr. Churchill, will be pardoned much greater faults both of character and manner, and will, if the electors agree with him in political opinion, be regarded with a much warmer enthusiasm. It will be felt also, if he holds views entirely opposed to those of the majority, that a greater effort is required to defeat him, and one of which the electors have much more reason to be proud. They have done something noteworthy when they have contemned the titular Earl or the Duke's son. Moreover, when the man of title— we are using this phrase deliberately to express a meaning which the word aristocrat does not convey—is elected, the House will give him a better chance. It is not in the least more disposed to pardon his incapacity, or to cheer him if he has nothing to say, but it is more curious to hear his first speech, it applauds more warmly if that speech is a good one, and it is more willing to see him picked at once out of the ruck and made into an Under-Secretary or other salaried servant of the great machine. As the world undoubtedly grows more democratic, and as wealth is already much more desired than rank, we have a curiosity to know the reason of a survival of feeling which is undeniable, though men hesitate to acknow- ledge it in words, or even to recognise it frankly in other people. They act on it every day, though if questioned, they would deny the fact, or allege reasons for it which, if they were talking of Mr. Smith, they would themselves acknowledge to be more or less imaginary.
What is the charm of rank ? We are not speaking, be it understood, of birth by itself, which is a very different matter. The man who represents a great father, or a historic house, has, for all who remember history, a kind of claim to regard which is felt in all countries, about Mr. Lincoln or M. Carnot or Mr. Gladstone's sons, as much as about a Percy or a Bruce, and is a result at once of gratitude and of hope,—gratitude for the service rendered, and hope that the descendant of one who rendered it may reveal something of his predecessor's merits or powers. We are speaking of rank only, rank by itself, the something which we all affect slightly to despise, but which nevertheless smooths the way for its possessor, especially in politics, as nothing else will; which, for instance, makes it seem reasonable for the eldest son of a new Earl, while still an immature man or immersed in the diversions of youth, to seek the suffrages of a great country district or an enormous borough. The English know little of birth, and except in the districts to which the individual noble belongs, hardly remember the history of their great houses ; their feeling is for rank. They will accept a son, say, of Earl Cairns, who was an entirely new man, as readily as a son of the Earl of Denbigh, who is a Hapsburg, and elect either, if equally qualified, sooner than Mr. Brown. Why ? It is certainly not on account of wealth, for the electors are often aware that the " noble" candidate is poor, and though the millionaire has an advantage in his own locale, we do not see that it extends beyond, or, except with election agents, in any way helps his son. It is certainly not any superiority of manner, for the young man of title very often possesses none, and if he did possess it, would in many places be rather less than more popular on account of it. Ultra-refinement is certainly no help on the hustings, and not a great help even within the walls of Parliament. We doubt even if it is a great advantage nowadays to be visibly a gentleman ; at least we see that very rough people find their roughness, when overborne by other qualifications, very little in their way. We should say, on the whole, that rank told in public life in three separate ways. Owing to a tradi- tion which it would require a history of England to ex- plain, the candidate who possesses it is accepted as less of a suppliant than his rival, is supposed to be conferring as well as receiving a favour, to do his constituency a credit as well as to receive a great honour from them. The man who votes for him receives as well as gives, and that is to Englishmen always a pleasant sensation, is, perhaps, the tree reason why titles, and especially great titles, receive se much worship in society. The notice of the Prince is sought because the man whom the Prince notices is thereby honoured, or, at all events, fancies that he is. Then, also owing to tradition, the man with rank as he stands upon the hustings is exonerated from the charge of self-seeking. He is supposed, sometimes truly, often falsely, to be wanting nothing for himself, to be seeking no promotion, to be careless of professional advancement, to be intent, if not on the good of his country, at least on the good of his party, and of public life in general. He is expected to be very faithful to his side, and to display ambition, if he displays it at all, in a desire for political rather than for permanent employment. Lord Randolph Churchill was known to be always a poor man for his position, but nobody ever thought of his caring about loaves and fishes, or seeking any gain out of politics except political power. That is true also of many scores of untitled men ; but until they are proved, the popular conviction that it is true, is never quite so complete. And finally, the titled man, especially if he is a genuine aristocrat, has almost invariably one distinct ad- vantage in the political struggle. He feels his feet, has no sense of humility, and speaks to his audience with an inner sense that he is not cringing to them, which they perceive and secretly delight in. He is, in fact, inde- pendent, and they like independence. Very often, too, we must add that a candidate of the kind understands the people better than his citizen rival, has come closer to them in field and stable, knows better what they will like to hear, and meets their passion for rough jocularity or over- plainness of speech in a way which makes him " popular " at once. He has his own vices, but smugness is not one of them; and of all roads to popular favour in this country, a total absence of smugness is the quickest. That is said not to be the case in America; but we suspect there is a con- fusion in that judgment between smugness and reticence, and should rather like to hear a debate in a State House of Representatives before we credit the contradiction.
Once in the House, the superior chance of a man of rank comes, we fancy, from a different source, the liking of those who possess power to give him a faint preference, and the liking of the average Member for a social superior, who, if he shines at all, is felt to be conferring a benefit on his party and the House. The aristocrat's " pull" within doors is not perhaps so great as is fancied outside, for he must exhibit equal powers with his plebeian rival; but that it exists in some measure and at certain stages of his career is un- deniable. No doubt, the quickest rise of our immediate time has been achieved by a man from the professional class, but Lord George Bentinck as a plebeian would never have led his party, Lord Randolph Churchill would never have led the House of Commons at thirty-seven, and even Lord Hartington would have found it a very different matter to get over his initial difficulty in making an acceptable speech. The advantage is not very great, for the House always perceives when it is being helped, and to anything like genius is over- responsive ; but ceteris paribus the man of rank is preferred, both by those who have rank already, and those who possess none; by the former from unconscious caste-feeling, by the latter because, for one thing, they are less jealous, and because, for another, they are swayed by a tradition from the past which has not yet thoroughly died away. Whether it will ever die away we do not know, seeing signs that it influences even complete democracies, but while it lasts it will be thought more natural, and will be therefore easier, for a Howard or a Stanley to grasp the prizes of political life, than for a Smith or Jones. The aristocrats must be able to do it, but being able, the resistance will be leas. To be distinguished is an attraction like another, like eloquence, or capacity, or personal charm. and in England. even at the end of this century, rank is still distinction,—the reason why titles and even decorations are sought, as successive Premiers -declare, with such unintelligible and oppressive avidity.
While we are on the subject, we may note a peculiarity in the English feeling about titles, of which we have never seen a reasonable explanation. The political populace dislikes the title of Duke. Some of the ablest Peers in politics have been Dukes ; but to be a Duke weights instead of lightening a man in the great race for power. There is a widely diffused impression, the origin of which we cannot trace, that a Duke is sure to be a little stupid, that a brilliant Duke is, in fact, an impossibility. The title is a positive drawback to the Duke of Devonshire, and a Duke of Derby would never have been described as a " Rupert of debate." The Duke of Argyll, who is an intellectual athlete, would have been far more completely recognised as Earl of Argyll ; and we are not sure that the Dukedom has not impeded one or two promising politicians in the House of Lords. Certainly a Duke rarely rises there, unless he has become known to the country before the title crushed him. Is it that the rank overpowers the popular imagination till men cease to see the person—a thing which constantly happens in the case of Kings—or is it that men can never forget the special rank by merging it in the simpler and more familiar title of " Lord" ? No Peer except a Duke is invariably mentioned by the title which marks his grade. We have not an idea of the true explanation, but we know that a political Earl who accepted a Dukedom would lose heavily in popular estimation, and that even a Marquess like Lord Salisbury, who would alter his rank so little, would find that the coronet of strawberry leaves acted, to a certain extent, as an extinguisher, while if his son never entered the House of Commons he would have to struggle against some inexplicable weight. The fact is one of the very oddest in the whole of the odd history of the infiaence of rank, but of its reality we entertain no doubt whatever. To say " that is a ducal opinion," is to say it is an opinion that no one in our days need consider.
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