At the second reading of the bill, it passed by a single vote. An amendment by General Gascoigne against the reduction of the total number of the House of Commons passed by a majority of eight. The cabinet felt its measure threatened, and resolved to dissolve Parliament and appeal to the electors. The chancellor undertook to obtain the consent of the king. He went with Lord Grey to the palace. William IV. resisted. "How can I," said he, "after such a fashion, repay the kindness of Parliament; in granting me a most liberal civil list, and giving to the queen a splendid annuity in case she survives me?" And as Lord Brougham explained the political reasons for an immediate dissolution, the King objected: "The great officers of State are not summoned."—"Pardon me, sire," and the Chancellor bowed humbly: "we have taken the great liberty of informing them that your Majesty would have need of their services."—"But the crown, and the royal robes, and the other insignia of ceremony are not prepared."—"I beg your Majesty to pardon my audacity—all is ready."—"But, my Lords, it is impossible; my guards—the troops have not received their orders; they cannot be ready to-day."—"Pardon me, sir; I know how great my presumption has been, but we have counted upon the goodness of your Majesty, upon your desire to save the kingdom and to assure the happiness of your people. I have given the orders—the troops are under arms."—The King, flushed with anger, demanded, "How dare you go so far, my Lord; you know well it is an act of treason—high treason!"—"Yes sir, I know it," replied the chancellor, humbly, though firmly looking the monarch in the face. "I am ready to submit personally to all the punishments that it may please your Majesty to inflict upon me, but I conjure your Majesty anew to hear us and to follow our counsel."
Some hours later, after a violent agitation in the two Houses, that preceded his coming, William IV. read to the assembled Parliament the address which Lord Brougham had previously prepared. The murmurs of surprise and disaffection rendered the voice of the king scarcely audible; they listened only to the first words: "My Lords and Gentlemen, I have come to meet you for the purpose of proroguing this Parliament, with a view to its immediate dissolution."
Thus prepared and ordered, the elections led, as might have been expected, to scenes of sad disorder. The Reformers, intoxicated with triumph and expectation, indulged in excesses that their more prudent friends were not able to repress. The city of London was illuminated on the night following the dissolution of Parliament. At Edinburgh, the windows not illuminated were broken. The Tory candidates were injured, at many places, and sometimes were in great danger. The populace of Jedburgh insulted the dying Sir Walter Scott. "Troja fuit," wrote he, the same day, in his journal. The popular illusions and ignorances alarmed the more enlightened supporters of the measure.
"In the months of March and April," writes the celebrated Miss Harriet Martineau, passionately engaged all her life in the radical cause, "the great middle class, upon the intelligence of which they counted to pass the bill, expected to see the time come, when it would be necessary to refuse to pay their taxes, and to march upon London to sustain the king, the ministry and the mass of the nation, against a little group of selfish and obstinate demagogues."
The political associations took an account of the number of their disposable adherents; the president of the "Union of Birmingham" declared that he would be able to furnish two armies each of which was as good as the victors of Waterloo. Upon the coast of Sussex ten thousand men declared themselves ready to march at the first signal. Northumberland was ready, Yorkshire was aroused; it might be said that the nation believed itself called upon to march upon London. The opponents of reform trembled at the thought that the cities would be at the mercy of the multitude. "This measure," they said, "will owe its success only to intimidation."
The Reformers, as well as their opponents, were anxious; after the opening of the new Parliament on the 21st of June, 1831, the king called the attention of the Houses to the disorders which had taken place, as well as to the distress which existed in Ireland, and begged of the legislature energetic remedies for these evils.
On the 21st of September the reform bill passed the House of Commons, by one hundred and nine majority. It was immediately carried by Lord Grey to the House of Lords.
The debate lasted twenty-five days, and was powerful and grave; sustained by men who knew their influence in the state was menaced. They were, nevertheless, more occupied with the safety of the country than with their personal authority. "I know the courage of your Lordships," said Lord Grey, "and your proud susceptibility to anything that looks like a menace; and I repudiate all thought of intimidation, but I conjure you, if you attach any value to your rights and privileges, if you hope to transmit them intact to your posterity, to lend an ear to the wishes of the people. Do not assume an attitude which would show you deaf to the voice of nine-tenths of the nation, which appeals to your wisdom in an accent too clear not to be heard, too decisive not to be comprehended. I do not say, as was said on a previous occasion by a noble Duke (Wellington), that the rejection of this measure would lead to civil war: I have confidence that such would not be the effect; but I foresee consequences which cause me to tremble for the security of this House, and for this nation. It is in the name of the tranquillity and prosperity of your country that I conjure your Lordships to reflect well, before rejecting this measure."