Britain's somnolent, outdated and all but powerless House of Lords rarely lives up to what little is left to it, the promise of high-minded and disinterested eloquence. Not only spectators but members themselves stay away in droves. But one afternoon last week the crimson benches were packed with obscure "backwoods" noblemen, the steps of the throne were black with ministers, privy councillors and the sons of peers, and the visitors' gallery bulged with gentlemen and their wives up from the shires for the London season. In a rare demonstration of aristocratic solidarity, the flower of the Tory Party had...
GREAT BRITAIN: When a Cecil Quits
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