"No. I said it will be in a few years. In America the Church is not represented, neither are the institutions of learning—although they ought to have some special representation as well as the States. Now mark me well. In a few years, a decade at the most, the franchise will be extended to the humblest shop owner, house owner and tenant, and only the criminals and the utterly uneducated will have no voice in the government. Then we will have a more representative government and a more stable one than our American cousins. More representative, because colleges, universities, the clergy, and large and small property owners will have their respective portion of power; more safe because the roughest and lowest element of society will not have a controlling and dominating influence. How is it now, however? The landed proprietors and men of influence pack our House of Commons as they please. Everyone knows of Old Sarum—that it hasn't a single inhabitant, and yet it sends a member to the Commons, while Manchester, Leeds and Birmingham have no voice whatever in the affairs of the nation. We must have an extended suffrage. The people want it," and Sir James silenced his batteries.
"Well, so far as I can see," said Captain Tom, doggedly returning to the charge "the people are not demanding anything. Our people are comfortable and happy. Corn has arisen in price and our farmers are growing rich."
"Aye," said the squire, "so far as I can see, things are pretty prosperous. Corn has risen to fifty shillings per quarter."
"Ah," said Sir James, contemptuously, "what benefit is it for Cousin Jack in Cornwall to have a full stomach, and Tom in York and Devon to have an empty one? Fine national prosperity, that. Squire, you are interested in your own section, Captain Tom reads nothing but war news, and so both of you are blind to the signs of the times. The memory of the Blanketeers is still before the public and the pulse of the middle classes is mounting higher and higher. What signify the riots of last year and the affair of Peterloo?"
"A set of rebellious knaves, that need the hand of the Iron Duke to teach them their manners," replied Captain Tom, who was indignant to be accused of ignorance on national affairs. "A set of rebellious knaves, but where do you find gentlemen marching side by side in a cause with such a rabble."
"William Cobbet, the journalist," rejoined Sir James.
"Aye, a ploughman," sniffed Captain Tom, in some disdain.
"Aye, and more than a ploughman," added young Master Richard. "There's Sir Francis Burdette, Lord Brougham, the great Canning, Lord John Russell, Grenville, and Earl Grey—and Canning and Grey were Etonians." The last part was uttered with a little triumph in the tone.
"Ah, the young cock is beginning to crow," said Captain Tom, who knew not what else to reply.