To this letter I received no reply, nor was any expected; but the letter appears to have had its effect, for when the debate came on, the Duke, as will be seen hereafter, distinctly supported the measure.
Meanwhile the bill for establishing penny postage was brought in by the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Lord John Russell, and Mr. F. Baring; and passed the first reading without discussion.[270]
The second reading took place on the 22nd July, after a debate in which Mr. Goulbourn, Sir Robert Inglis, and Sir Robert Peel attacked, and Mr. Francis Baring, Lord Seymour, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. Wallace, and Mr. Warburton defended the bill. The attack was founded chiefly on the large powers granted to the Treasury, though Sir R. Peel, while admitting “that a great reduction of postage might be made, not only without injury, but with great advantage to the revenue,” thought, however, “that it would be better to make a partial reduction of the postage duties than to repeal them almost entirely, as is now proposed,” and considered “that the advantages to be derived from such a proposition are much over-rated.”[271] Sir Robert Inglis also objected to the abolition of the Parliamentary privilege of franking, stating incidentally that to some mercantile houses it was worth £300 a year; but his objection was over-ruled by Sir Robert Peel, who strongly urged the importance of abolishing the privilege in question, adding that, if each Government department were required to pay its own postage, much would be done towards checking abuse. He also advised that “Parliamentary Proceedings” should be subjected to a moderate postage charge; and it is scarcely necessary to add that Sir Robert Peel’s advice on this point was followed.[272] The bill was read without a division.
On the following day the public anxiety relative to the House of Lords showed itself in a petition “signed by the Mayor and upwards of twelve thousand five hundred of the merchants of the city of London, which the Noble Lord who presented the petition understood had been signed in twelve hours,” praying that no temporary deficiency of revenue might delay the establishment of penny postage.[273] As this, though not by any means the last petition presented, is the last requiring notice, it may not be amiss to mention here that the number of petitions presented to Parliament in favour of penny postage during the single session of 1839 was upwards of two thousand, the number of appended signatures being about a quarter of a million; while as many of the petitions proceeded from Town Councils, Chambers of Commerce, and other such Corporations, a single signature in many instances represented a considerable number of persons.
On July the 29th the bill was read a third time and passed, the Chancellor of the Exchequer announcing, in reply to Sir Robert Peel, that Government had not yet determined on the precise mode in which the measure should be introduced.[274]
Before following the bill to the Upper House I will mention a circumstance which, however trifling in itself, may derive some interest from its connection with a body so much the “observed of all observers” as the House of Commons. One night, when a discussion on Post Office affairs was to come on, I was sitting under the gallery, when one of the members suggested to me that I should go upstairs and get some refreshment; a hint of which, after some hesitation as to the propriety of intruding, I gladly availed myself. Following the directions I received, I went to the “Kitchen,” where the cooks were hard at work. Upon my request for tea a wooden tea-tray was handed to me. As I half suspected that I was thus made to wait upon myself because I was looked upon as an intruder, I watched the motions of such as came by unquestionable right. Scarcely had I taken my seat when I saw Joseph Hume doing as I had done; others followed in like manner, and I soon became aware that this was the common practice. Whether any change has been made I know not, but I was glad to remark that the members of an assembly accounted one of the most fastidious in the world were not ashamed to wait upon themselves.
A few days later I received a letter from Lord Duncannon, informing me that Lord Melbourne wished to see me at one o’clock on the following Sunday. On calling, I found only Lord Duncannon in the drawing-room, who informed me that the Premier was not yet up, though, as he had been assured by the servants, he might soon be expected. I must mention, by the way, that Lord Duncannon, who always, I believe, save in his official capacity, had been friendly to my plan, had now taken it up with a certain degree of warmth, having in his place in Parliament declared himself persuaded, “that, with great exertion on the part of those who are to carry the bill into execution, there will ultimately not be any loss,” and added, “that he never recollected so strong a wish having been expressed to both Houses of Parliament on any measure as had been expressed on the subject of postage.”[275]
After a little time Lord Melbourne made his appearance, in his dressing-gown. My reception was most kindly, and we presently went to work. In the course of conversation I had occasion to speak of Mr. Warburton, when Lord Melbourne interrupted me with, “Warburton! Warburton! He’s one of your moral-force men, isn’t he?” I replied that I certainly believed Mr. Warburton’s hopes of improvement did rest more on moral than on physical force. “Well,” he rejoined, “I can understand your physical-force men, but as to your moral-force men, I’ll be damned if I know what they mean.” Not hitting upon any apposite reply, I remained silent, and a second time we returned to the subject of the interview, until at length, seeming to have become possessed of his subject, he began to pace the room, as if arranging his speech; often moving his lips, though uttering no audible sound. In this process, however, he was interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who made an announcement which did not reach my ear. The answer was, “Show him into the other room,” and, after a short time, Lord Melbourne, apologising for leaving us, withdrew. A minute afterwards, the hum of conversation sounded through the folding-doors, and, by-and-by, one of the voices gradually rose in distinctness and earnestness, taking at length an angry tone, in which I presently heard my own name pronounced. As the voice seemed to me that of a stranger, I must have turned an inquiring eye towards Lord Duncannon, who informed me that it was that of Lord Lichfield. After a while, warmth seemed to abate, the tone became moderate, and at length the farewell was given, Lord Melbourne, re-entering by the folding-doors, with the remark, “Lichfield has been here; I can’t think why a man can’t talk of penny postage without going into a passion.”
Next day, August 5th, Lord Melbourne proposed, in a long speech, the second reading of the Postage Bill. He fully admitted that the income of the country fell short of the expenditure—allowed that there was great uncertainty as to the fiscal results of penny postage; but intimated that a surplus or deficiency of three or four hundred thousand pounds in an income of forty-eight millions was a matter of comparatively little moment, and justified the course Government had taken mainly on the ground of “the very general feeling and general concurrence of all parties in favour of the plan.”