It is a mistake in the people of any nation to suppose that by any kind of magnificence and splendour, however artistic it may be, they can exalt their country in the minds of foreigners. The foreigner perceives the attempt to subjugate him, and resents it. There is that gorgeous building, the British Houses of Parliament. I do not wish to laugh at it myself, being one of the few who believe that it has artistic merit, that it is even a kind of architectural poem intended to glorify the greatness of England. The foreigner, however, does not want the greatness of England to be glorified, and no sooner is he aware of the attempt than he immediately begins to sneer at the building and to belittle it in every way as much as he can. In reality, the House of Lords is a chamber of noble dimensions, all the materials used in it are of the best quality, and the workmanship is thoroughly and unsparingly good. Although the ceiling is decorated, the wainscot is simply of carved oak. Well, one French writer compares the House of Lords to a shop where coloured glasses are sold for a shilling, another says it is as small as the public room of the _mairie_ in a French village, a third likens it to a _café concert_, a fourth receives an impression of _ferblanterie_, that is, of tinner’s work. These French critics are angry at the costliness and excellence of the sound English work, and do all they can to cheapen it. In the House of Commons the Speaker’s chair is compared to an organ in a Dutch beer-house, and the Speaker himself, when adorned with his wig, to an actor in a comic opera. If the French will not venerate the Speaker’s wig, what is there on earth that they will venerate? [Sidenote: A Victorious Army.] [Sidenote: Moral Eminence of the Conqueror.] [Sidenote: Napoleon III and his beaten Army.]