Representative British Orations Volume 3 (of 4) / With Introductions and Explanatory Notes

by Unknown

The privilege of representation in the House of Commons was early conferred on different localities for a variety of reasons. Before the end of the seventeenth century the constituency of the House had come to be fixed. Seats were held by representatives of counties and of such cities and boroughs as for one reason or another had been admitted as a mark of royal favor. In the course of the eighteenth century it came to be plainly seen that the development of the country was constantly increasing the anomalies and inequalities of representation. Boroughs which in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries had received the right of representation continued to send one or two members, even though as in some localities the population had entirely dwindled away; and large cities like Liverpool, Manchester, and Leeds had grown up to a population of hundreds of thousands without any representation whatever.

This system gave every encouragement to corruption. The smaller boroughs were eagerly bought by those who desired to control the politics of the Lower House; and consequently, before the end of the last century it was found that so many of the boroughs were owned by members of the House of Lords that both Houses of Parliament were under the control of the nobility. Some of the peers, besides sitting in person in the House of Lords, virtually appointed four, five, six, or, in one instance, nine members of the House of Commons. Of the decayed boroughs some were held by the government, some by peers, and some by unscrupulous speculators who were in the habit of selling the representation to the highest bidders. In times of political excitement bribery became systematic, and in some cases assumed colossal proportions. That the constitution was able to survive the strain put upon it, is perhaps the most striking proof of its remarkable vitality and strength.

The necessity of a fundamental reform in the methods of representation was first publicly announced by Lord Chatham in his speech on the right of taxing the American colonies. The younger Pitt, in the early years of his administration, made several attempts to bring the subject into parliamentary favor. But the excesses of the French Revolution made even reformers timid; and the government was so exclusively occupied with the Napoleonic wars that the agitation made but slow progress. It happened, moreover, that for several years the most eloquent and influential members of the House of Commons were opposed to the measure. From 1807 to 1830 the Tories were in power, and during this period, therefore, there was no reason to hope that any thing could be done except in the way of creating public opinion.

At the head of the movement in behalf of reform was Earl Grey. For nearly half a century he devoted his great energies and his excellent judgment to the subject with such skill and discretion that constant inroads were made on public opinion. At length the subject took so strong hold of the people that in spite of the fact that the Tories were intrenched in power behind the old system, the Whigs were victorious in the election of 1830. Earl Grey was appointed Prime-Minister, and it was universally understood that the first object of the government would be the passage of a reform bill.

The leader of the government in the House of Commons was Lord John Russell, who had been scarcely second to Earl Grey in active sympathy for reform. To him, therefore, was intrusted the introduction of the measure. His speech explaining the provisions of the bill at once placed it before Parliament and the country as a question of the most momentous importance. The sweeping provisions of the act aroused the most violent opposition and even the ridicule of the Tories. It proposed to disfranchise fifty-six rotten boroughs and to redistribute the 143 seats thus made vacant. It also changed the basis of franchise in constituencies not otherwise disturbed. But the country favored the movement, and soon the cry was raised that nothing would satisfy the nation but “the whole bill and nothing but the bill.”

When the measure, after a most able discussion on both sides, finally came to a second reading, it was carried in the House of Commons, amid unparalleled excitement, by a majority of 302 to 301. The smallness of this majority made it doubtful whether the bill could be finally carried even in the House of Commons. An amendment was offered on which the government was defeated. As the subject was now the all-absorbing question before the nation, the ministry determined to dissolve Parliament, and thus bring public opinion to a definite expression. The result showed the wisdom of the course; for more than a hundred who had voted against the bill lost their seats. With some trifling changes the measure was re-introduced into the House of Commons, and speedily carried. It then went to the House of Lords, where it was discussed perhaps with even greater ability than had been shown in the Lower House. Grey and Brougham urged the measure with great earnestness, while Eldon and Lyndhurst opposed it with scarcely less skill and power. On coming to a final vote the bill was defeated by a majority of forty-three.

The excitement in the country over this result was unparalleled. The attitude of the Lords was in evident opposition to the will of the country; and there was much speculation as to the course which ought to be pursued. At length the ministry determined not only to re-introduce the measure, but also to advise the king to create new peers in sufficient number to carry the bill through the Upper House. A list of about eighty names was made out for this purpose. The House of Lords, however, at the last moment gave way. The Duke of Wellington and a knot of his followers, unwilling that so violent a method should be resorted to, absented themselves from the House in order that the bill might be carried in their absence, and without any responsibility on their part. This most important measure of modern English legislation became a law on the 7th of June, 1832.

The action taken has generally been considered as establishing an important constitutional precedent. The significance of the method resorted to has been well indicated by Bagehot in his brilliant work on the English constitution. He says of the Lords: “Their veto is a sort of hypothetical veto. They say: We reject your bill this once, or these twice, or even these thrice; but if you keep sending it up, at the last we won’t reject it. The House has ceased to be one of latent directors, and has become one of temporary rejectors and palpable alterers.”

The following speech of Macaulay was one of the first of those delivered on the bill in the House of Commons. No other speech in the whole course of the discussion gave a more comprehensive view of the vast interests involved in the great measure. The day after the delivery of the speech his sister wrote: “His voice from cold and over-excitement got quite into a scream towards the last part. A person told him that he had not heard such speaking since Fox. ‘You have not heard such screaming since Fox,’ he replied.”

It is a circumstance, sir, of happy augury for the motion before the House, that almost all those who have opposed it have declared themselves hostile on principle to parliamentary reform. Two members, I think, have confessed that, though they disapprove of the plan now submitted to us, they are forced to admit the necessity of a change in the representative system. Yet even those gentlemen have used, as far as I have observed, no arguments which would not apply as strongly to the most moderate change as to that which has been proposed by his Majesty’s Government. I say, sir, that I consider this as a circumstance of happy augury. For what I feared was, not the opposition of those who are averse to all reform, but the disunion of reformers. I knew that during three months every reformer had been employed in conjecturing what the plan of the government would be. I knew that every reformer had imagined in his own mind a scheme differing doubtless in some points from that which my noble friend, the Paymaster of the Forces (Lord John Russell), has developed. I felt, therefore, great apprehension that one person would be dissatisfied with one part of the bill, that another person would be dissatisfied with another part, and that thus our whole strength would be wasted in internal dissensions. That apprehension is now at an end. I have seen with delight the perfect concord which prevails among all who deserve the name of reformers in this House; and I trust that I may consider it as an omen of the concord which will prevail among reformers throughout the country. I will not, sir, at present express any opinion as to the details of the bill; but having during the last twenty-four hours given the most diligent consideration to its general principles, I have no hesitation in pronouncing it a wise, noble, and comprehensive measure, skilfully framed for the healing of great distempers, for the securing at once of the public liberties, and of the public repose, and for the reconciling and knitting together of all the orders of the state.

The honorable baronet who has just sat down (Sir Robert Peel) has told us that the ministers have attempted to unite two inconsistent principles in one abortive measure. Those were his very words. He thinks, if I understand him rightly, that we ought either to leave the representative system such as it is, or to make it perfectly symmetrical. I think, sir, that the ministers would have acted unwisely if they had taken either course. Their principle is plain, rational, and consistent. It is this, to admit the middle class to a large and direct share in the representation, without any violent shock to the institutions of our country. [Hear! hear!] I understand those cheers; but surely the gentlemen who utter them will allow that the change which will be made in our institutions by this bill is far less violent than that which, according to the honorable baronet, ought to be made if we make any reform at all. I praise the ministers for not attempting, at the present time, to make the representation uniform. I praise them for not effacing the old distinction between the towns and the counties, and for not assigning members to districts, according to the American practice, by the Rule of Three. The government has, in my opinion, done all that was necessary for the removal of a great practical evil, and no more than was necessary.

I consider this, sir, as a practical question. I rest my opinion on no general theory of government. I distrust all general theories of government. I will not positively say, that there is any form of polity which may not, in some conceivable circumstances, be the best possible. I believe that there are societies in which every man may safely be admitted to vote. [Hear! hear!] Gentlemen may cheer, but such is my opinion. I say, sir, that there are countries in which the condition of the laboring classes is such that they may safely be entrusted with the right of electing members of the legislature. If the laborers of England were in that state in which I, from my soul, wish to see them; if employment were always plentiful, wages always high, food always cheap; if a large family were considered not as an encumbrance but as a blessing, the principal objections to universal suffrage would, I think, be removed. Universal suffrage exists in the United States without producing any very frightful consequences; and I do not believe that the people of those States, or of any part of the world, are in any good quality naturally superior to our own countrymen. But, unhappily, the laboring classes in England, and in all old countries, are occasionally in a state of great distress. Some of the causes of this distress are, I fear, beyond the control of the government. We know what effect distress produces, even on people more intelligent than the great body of the laboring classes can possibly be. We know that it makes even wise men irritable, unreasonable, credulous, eager for immediate relief, heedless of remote consequences. There is no quackery in medicine, religion, or politics, which may not impose even on a powerful mind, when that mind has been disordered by pain or fear. It is therefore no reflection on the poorer class of Englishmen, who are not, and who cannot in the nature of things be, highly educated, to say that distress produces on them its natural effects, those effects which it would produce on the Americans, or on any other people; that it blinds their judgment, that it inflames their passions, that it makes them prone to believe those who flatter them, and to distrust those who would serve them. For the sake, therefore, of the whole society; for the sake of the laboring classes themselves, I hold it to be clearly expedient that, in a country like this, the right of suffrage should depend on a pecuniary qualification.

But, sir, every argument which would induce me to oppose universal suffrage induces me to support the plan which is now before us. I am opposed to universal suffrage, because I think that it would produce a destructive revolution. I support this plan, because I am sure that it is our best security against a revolution. The noble Paymaster of the Forces hinted, delicately indeed and remotely, at this subject. He spoke of the danger of disappointing the expectations of the nation; and for this he was charged with threatening the House. Sir, in the year 1817, the late Lord Londonderry proposed a suspension of the habeas-corpus act. On that occasion he told the House that, unless the measures which he recommended were adopted, the public peace could not be preserved. Was he accused of threatening the House? Again, in the year 1819, he proposed the laws known by the name of the Six Acts. He then told the House that, unless the executive power were reinforced, all the institutions of the country would be overturned by popular violence. Was he then accused of threatening the House? Will any gentleman say that it is parliamentary and decorous to urge the danger arising from popular discontent as an argument for severity; but that it is unparliamentary and indecorous to urge that same danger as an argument for conciliation? I, sir, do entertain great apprehension for the fate of my country; I do in my conscience believe that, unless the plan proposed, or some similar plan, be speedily adopted, great and terrible calamities will befall us. Entertaining this opinion, I think myself bound to state it, not as a threat, but as a reason. I support this bill because it will improve our institutions; but I support it also because it tends to preserve them. That we may exclude those whom it is necessary to exclude, we must admit those whom it may be safe to admit. At present we oppose the schemes of revolutionists with only one half, with only one quarter, of our proper force. We say, and we say justly, that it is not by mere numbers, but by property and intelligence, that the nation ought to be governed. Yet, saying this, we exclude from all share in the government great masses of property and intelligence, great numbers of those who are most interested in preserving tranquillity, and who know best how to preserve it. We do more. We drive over to the side of revolution those whom we shut out from power. Is this a time when the cause of law and order can spare one of its natural allies?

My noble friend, the Paymaster of the Forces, happily described the effect which some parts of our representative system would produce on the mind of a foreigner, who had heard much of our freedom and greatness. If, sir, I wished to make such a foreigner clearly understand what I consider as the great defects of our system, I would conduct him through that immense city which lies to the north of Great Russell Street and Oxford Street, a city superior in size and population to the capitals of many mighty kingdoms; and probably superior in opulence, intelligence, and general respectability, to any city in the world. I would conduct him through that interminable succession of streets and squares, all consisting of well-built and well-furnished houses. I would make him observe the brilliancy of the shops and the crowd of well-appointed equipages. I would show him that magnificent circle of palaces which surrounds the Regent’s Park. I would tell him that the rental of this district was far greater than that of the whole kingdom of Scotland at the time of the Union. And then I would tell him, that this was an unrepresented district.[2] It is needless to give any more instances. It is needless to speak of Manchester, Birmingham, Leeds, Sheffield, with no representation, or of Edinburgh and Glasgow with a mock representation.[3] If a property tax were now imposed on the principle that no person who had less than a hundred and fifty pounds a year should contribute, I should not be surprised to find that one half in number and value of the contributors had no votes at all; and it would, beyond all doubt, be found that one fiftieth part in number and value of the contributors had a larger share of the representation than the other forty-nine fiftieths. This is not government by property. It is government by certain detached portions and fragments of property, selected from the rest, and preferred to the rest, on no rational principle whatever.

To say that such a system is ancient is no defence. My honorable friend, the member for the University of Oxford, challenges us to show that the constitution was ever better than it is. Sir, we are legislators, not antiquaries. The question for us is, not whether the constitution was better formerly, but whether we can make it better now. In fact, however, the system was not in ancient times, by any means, so absurd as it is in our age. One noble Lord [Lord Stormont] has to-night told us that the town of Aldborough, which he represents, was not larger in the time of Edward the First than it is at present. The line of its walls, he assures us, may still be traced. It is now built up to that line. He argues, therefore, that as the founder of our representative institutions gave members to Aldborough when it was as small as it now is, those who would disfranchise it on account of its smallness have no right to say that they are recurring to the original principle of our representative institutions. But does the noble Lord remember the change which has taken place in the country during the last five centuries? Does he remember how much England has grown in population, while Aldborough has been standing still? Does he consider, that in the time of Edward the First the kingdom did not contain two millions of inhabitants? It now contains nearly fourteen millions. A hamlet of the present day would have been a town of some importance in the time of our early Parliaments. Aldborough may be absolutely as considerable a place as ever, but, compared with the kingdom, it is much less considerable, by the noble Lord’s own showing, than when it first elected burgesses. My honorable friend, the member for the University of Oxford, has collected numerous instances of the tyranny which the kings and nobles anciently exercised, both over this House and over the electors. It is not strange that, in times when nothing was held sacred, the rights of the people, and of the representatives of the people, should not have been held sacred. The proceedings which my honorable friend has mentioned no more prove that, by the ancient constitution of the realm, this House ought to be a tool of the king and of the aristocracy, than the benevolences and the shipmoney prove their own legality, or than those unjustifiable arrests, which took place long after the ratification of the Great Charter, and even after the Petition of Right, prove that the subject was not anciently entitled to his personal liberty. We talk of the wisdom of our ancestors; and in one respect at least they were wiser than we. They legislated for their own times. They looked at the England which was before them. They did not think it necessary to give twice as many members to York as they gave to London, because York had been capital of Britain in the time of Constantius Chlorus; and they would have been amazed indeed if they had foreseen that a city of more than a hundred thousand inhabitants would be left without representatives in the nineteenth century, merely because it stood on ground which, in the thirteenth century, had been occupied by a few huts. They framed a representative system, which, though not without defects and irregularities, was well adapted to the state of England in their time. But a great revolution took place. The character of the old corporations changed. New forms of property came into existence. New portions of society rose into importance. There were in our rural districts rich cultivators, who were not freeholders. There were in our capital rich traders, who were not livery men. Towns shrank into villages. Villages swelled into cities larger than the London of the Plantagenets. Unhappily, while the natural growth of society went on, the artificial polity continued unchanged. The ancient form of the representation remained, and precisely because the form remained, the spirit departed. Then came that pressure almost to bursting, the new wine in the old bottles, the new society under the old institutions. It is now time for us to pay a decent, a rational, a manly reverence to our ancestors, not by superstitiously adhering to what they, in other circumstances, did, but by doing what they, in our circumstances, would have done. All history is full of revolutions, produced by causes similar to those which are now operating in England. A portion of the community which had been of no account, expands and becomes strong. It demands a place in the system, suited, not to its former weakness, but to its present power. If this is granted, all is well. If this is refused, then comes the struggle between the young energy of one class and the ancient privileges of another. Such was the struggle between the Plebeians and the Patricians of Rome. Such was the struggle of the Italian allies for admission to the full rights of Roman citizens. Such was the struggle of our North American colonies against the mother country. Such was the struggle which the Third Estate of France maintained against the aristocracy of birth. Such was the struggle which the Roman Catholics of Ireland maintained against the aristocracy of creed. Such is the struggle which the free people of color in Jamaica are now maintaining against the aristocracy of skin. Such, finally, is the struggle which the middle classes in England are maintaining against an aristocracy of mere locality, against an aristocracy, the principle of which is to invest a hundred drunken potwallopers in one place, or the owner of a ruined hovel in another, with powers which are withheld from cities renowned to the farthest ends of the earth for the marvels of their wealth, and of their industry.

But these great cities, says my honorable friend, the member for the University of Oxford, are virtually, though not directly, represented. Are not the wishes of Manchester, he asks, as much consulted as those of any town which sends members to Parliament? Now, sir, I do not understand how a power which is salutary when exercised virtually can be noxious when exercised directly. If the wishes of Manchester have as much weight with us as they would have under a system which should give representatives to Manchester, how can there be any danger in giving representatives to Manchester? A virtual representative is, I presume, a man who acts as a direct representative would act; for surely it would be absurd to say that a man virtually represents the people of Manchester, who is in the habit of saying No, when a man directly representing the people of Manchester would say Aye. The utmost that can be expected from virtual Representation is, that it may be as good as direct representation. If so, why not grant direct representation to places which, as everybody allows, ought, by some process or other, to be represented?

If it be said that there is an evil in change as change, I answer that there is also an evil in discontent as discontent. This, indeed, is the strongest part of our case. It is said that the system works well. I deny it. I deny that a system works well, which the people regard with aversion. We may say here that it is a good system and a perfect system. But if any man were to say so to any six hundred and fifty-eight respectable farmers or shop-keepers, chosen by lot in any part of England, he would be hooted down and laughed to scorn. Are these the feelings with which any part of the government ought to be regarded? Above all, are these the feelings with which the popular branch of the legislature ought to be regarded? It is almost as essential to the utility of a House of Commons, that it should possess the confidence of the people, as that it should deserve that confidence. Unfortunately, that which is in theory the popular part of our government, is in practice the unpopular part. Who wishes to dethrone the king? Who wishes to turn the Lords out of their House? Here and there a crazy Radical, whom the boys in the street point at as he walks along. Who wishes to alter the constitution of this House? The whole people. It is natural that it should be so. The House of Commons is, in the language of Mr. Burke, a check, not on the people, but for the people. While that check is efficient, there is no reason to fear that the king or the nobles will oppress the people. But if that check requires checking, how is it to be checked? If the salt shall lose its savor, wherewith shall we season it? The distrust with which the nation regards this House may be unjust. But what then? Can you remove that distrust? That it exists cannot be denied. That it is an evil cannot be denied. That it is an increasing evil cannot be denied. One gentleman tells us that it has been produced by the late events in France and Belgium;[4] another, that it is the effect of seditious works which have lately been published. If this feeling be of origin so recent, I have read history to little purpose. Sir, this alarming discontent is not the growth of a day, or of a year. If there be any symptoms by which it is possible to distinguish the chronic diseases of the body politic from its passing inflammations, all those symptoms exist in the present case. The taint has been gradually becoming more extensive and more malignant, through the whole lifetime of two generations. We have tried anodynes. We have tried cruel operations. What are we to try now? Who flatters himself that he can turn this feeling back? Does there remain any argument which escaped the comprehensive intellect of Mr. Burke, or the subtlety of Mr. Windham? Does there remain any species of coercion which was not tried by Mr. Pitt and by Lord Londonderry? We have had laws. We have had blood. New treasons have been created. The press has been shackled. The habeas-corpus act has been suspended. Public meetings have been prohibited. The event has proved that these expedients were mere palliatives. You are at the end of your palliatives. The evil remains. It is more formidable than ever. What is to be done?

Under such circumstances, a great plan of reconciliation, prepared by the ministers of the crown, has been brought before us in a manner which gives additional lustre to a noble name, inseparably associated during two centuries with the dearest liberties of the English people. I will not say that this plan is in all its details precisely such as I might wish it to be; but it is founded on a great and a sound principle. It takes away a vast power from a few. It distributes that power through the great mass of the middle order. Every man, therefore, who thinks as I think, is bound to stand firmly by ministers who are resolved to stand or fall with this measure. Were I one of them, I would sooner, infinitely sooner, fall with such a measure than stand by any other means that ever supported a cabinet.