Some of our readers will doubtless remember that, during the autumn of 1851, various pompous paragraphs appeared in the Whig newspapers, announcing that Lord John Russell had withdrawn himself to country retirement, for the purpose of maturing a grand and comprehensive scheme of Parliamentary Reform. The task was entirely gratuitous and self-imposed; for although the venerable Joseph Hume, Sir Joshua Walmsley, and a few other Saint Bernards of the like calibre, had attempted to preach up an itinerant crusade, their efforts met with no response, and their harangues excited no enthusiasm. Nobody wanted a new Reform Bill. The class which, of all others, was most opposed to innovation, embraced the bulk of the shopkeepers in towns, who, having attained considerable political and municipal influence, were very unwilling to share it with others, and regarded the lowering of the franchise not only with a jealous but with an absolutely hostile eye. It was upon the shoulders of that class that the Whigs had been carried into power; and it really seemed but a paltry return for their support and devotion, that a Prime Minister, upon whom they had lavished all their honours, should attempt to swamp their influence without any adequate reason. It would be absurd or unfair to charge them with selfishness. The first Reform Bill, acceded to and hailed by the great mass of the people, had established a certain property qualification for voters; and no one could allege that popular opinion was not sufficiently represented in the House of Commons. Nay, many of the Whigs began to think that popular opinion was too exclusively represented therein, and did not scruple to say so. Anyhow, the Bill had so worked that there, in 1851, was Lord John Russell, its parent and promoter, in the office of Premier of Great Britain, and in the command of a parliamentary majority. Small marvel if the ten-pounders asked themselves the question, what, in the name of gluttony, he could covet more?
They were quite entitled to ask that question, not only of themselves, but of the singular statesman whom they had been content to follow. Could he state that there was any measure, not revolutionary, but such as they and other well-disposed subjects of the realm desired, which he was prevented from introducing by the aristocratic character of the House of Commons? Certainly not. The triumph of the Free-trade policy was a distinct proof to the contrary. Was there any discontent in the country at the present distribution of the franchise? Nothing of the kind. The apathy was so great that even those entitled to enrolment would hardly prefer their claims. Even the enrolled cared little about voting—so little, indeed, that it was sometimes difficult to persuade one-half of a large constituency to come to the poll. All attempts at public meetings, for the purpose of agitating a reduction of the franchise, had been failures. The people were quite contented with things as they stood, and grumbled at the idea of a change. And yet this was the time, selected by a Prime Minister who had everything his own way, for getting up a fresh agitation!
Every one, beyond himself, saw the exceeding absurdity of his conduct. The leading Whigs became positively angry; and from that period we may date his rapid decadence in their estimation. The real nature of his scheme, consisting of an arbitrary lowering of the franchise, was quite well known; and as that could not, by any possibility, be carried even through the House of Commons, his own friends thought it advisable to put the noble Lord upon another scent.
There appeared, accordingly, in the Edinburgh Review for January 1852, an article on “The Expected Reform Bill,” which took most people by surprise on account of its apparently moderate, philosophic, and even Conservative tone. It would be difficult to analyse it—it is difficult, even after reading it, to draw any distinct conclusion from its propositions and argument. But this, at all events, was admitted, that “clearly there is no call for Parliamentary Reform on the part of any large or influential class. There is no zeal about it, one way or the other. An extension of the franchise is wished for by some, and thought proper and desirable by many; but it is not an actual want largely felt, nor is the deprivation of the franchise a practical grievance, clear enough, tangible enough, generally recognised enough, to have given rise to a genuine, spontaneous, exclusive demand for redress. There is a general languor and want of interest on the subject, manifested nowhere more plainly than in the tone and character of the meetings got up by the Reform Association for the sake of arousing public feeling. The nation, as a whole, is undeniably indifferent; the agitation is clearly artificial.” Then, again, we are told that “Quieta non movere is, in political matters, as often a maxim of wisdom as of laziness;” and a great deal more to the same effect, which could not have had a very exhilarating effect on the mind of Lord John Russell, supposing, as we do, that he was in total ignorance of the article in question before it was given to the public. Certainly, on this occasion, he had but a poor backing from his friends.
The view of the writer in question seemed to be this—that instead of arbitrarily lowering the franchise on the footing of a property qualification, it is important to discover some criterion by means of which persons morally and educationally qualified, who have not the franchise at present, may be admitted to that privilege. We are not reviewing or discussing the article—we are simply pointing out the sources from which Lord John Russell has derived most of his new ideas. Therefore we shall simply quote one passage from this article.
Source of Lord John Russell’s new idea of the Savings’ Bank Deposit qualification.—“Our present system is defective and unjust in this—that it selects two kinds or forms of property only as conferring the franchise. Let us continue to maintain a property qualification; but let us not insist that the property, so favourably and honourably distinguished, must be invested in one special mode. If a man has accumulated by diligence or frugality £50 or £100, and spends it either in the purchase of a freehold, or in removing his residence from an £8 to a £10 house, his realised property confers upon him the distinction of a vote. But if he invests the same sum, earned by similar qualities, in the savings’ bank, or in railway shares or debentures, or in the purchase of a deferred annuity—which would probably be much wiser modes of disposing of it—it carries with it no such privilege. This seems neither equitable nor wise. It might easily be rectified, and such rectification would be at once one of the safest, simplest, justest, and most desirable extensions of the franchise that could be suggested. Let the production before the registration courts of a savings’ bank book, showing a credit of £50, of at least six months’ standing, or of a bona fide certificate of shares to the same value in a valid railway, or of coupons to the same amount, be held to entitle a man to be inscribed upon the list of voters for that year.”—Edinburgh Review, Jan. 1852, p. 265.
Adhering to our original intention of not discussing the merits of the different proposals of this and the other articles in the Edinburgh Review, we shall not comment upon the unblushing impudence of such a project as this, which would place the representation of the country principally in the hands of millionaires and railway directors. It is unparalleledly impudent. But we notice it now simply as the germ of Lord John Russell’s £50 savings’ bank qualification.
By the time this article appeared, Lord John Russell’s Bill was prepared; though no one expected that it would be carried. The Whig party were conscious that the hour of their doom was approaching, but they wished to bear with them into opposition a weapon which might be available for future warfare. Lord John’s ideas had not then penetrated beyond a lowering of the franchise and the admission to the register of parties who paid 40s. a-year of direct taxes. These were his deliberate impressions before the schoolmaster of the Edinburgh Review appeared abroad.
After this, Lord John Russell went out of office; but the Review kept harping on Reform. The writer had already stated, “that a new measure of Parliamentary Reform was demanded, rather in the name of theoretical propriety than of practical advantage.” It seems to us that such an admission was nearly tantamount to an argument against the policy of making any change at all; more especially when we were told, nearly in the same page, that “there was no call for Parliamentary Reform on the part of any large or influential class.” If that were true, we should like to know who “demanded” the new measure? But we must not be too critical regarding the advances of the new Lycurgus.
In October 1852, a second article appeared, the preamble of which was very moderate—indeed, rather calculated to impress the casual reader with the idea that the author would have much preferred if “the vexed question of the franchise” could have been left alone. Nevertheless it appeared to him that there were “many reasons which make it impossible either entirely to shelve or long to postpone the question of Parliamentary Reform;” and, having stated these, he dashes again into his subject. He is, however, a great deal too knowing to commence with the proposal of innovations. He treats us to several pages of high Conservativism, condemnatory of universal suffrage; and having thus established a kind of confidence—acting on Quintilian’s advice, to frame the introduction so as “reddere auditores benevolos, attentos, dociles”—he begins to propound his new ideas. In this article we have:—