Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 71, No. 437, March 1852

by Various

The last general election did, in reality, cause little excitement. The conduct of Sir Robert Peel—we shall not now call it his manœuvre—had disposed of the question of Free Trade for the time; and no one, whatever might be his secret thoughts or forebodings, wished for an immediate reversal of that policy, until the effects of the experiment became apparent. Therefore a Free-Trade House of Commons was returned, and the Ministry had it all their own way. Undoubtedly they have declined in influence, since then. But why? Simply because their policy was then undergoing the test of experience, and the result has proved adverse to their anticipations. There is no other reason. If it should be said that their unpopularity is owing to the continuance of the hated Income-tax, we can only reply that Free-Trade and the Income-tax are inseparable; and that, so long as Sindbad chooses to call himself a Free-Trader, he must submit to carry the Old Man of the Sea upon his shoulders. But the constituencies were quiet. Except when accidental elections took place, which generally terminated in the defeat of the ministerial candidates, the electoral view could not be ascertained. But there were held in every county, and in the metropolis itself, immense meetings of those who thought themselves wronged by the chicanery of a former Minister—not demanding a readjustment of the franchise, but simply requiring that the general voice of the electoral body might be taken on the subject of their complaint. Thus the only classes in the country who could allege a specific and substantial grievance, were utterly silent upon the subject of a reform in the constitution. They had faith in the justice of their cause, and believed that, sooner or later, that cause must prevail, without the intervention of any violent remedy.

It was only in one or two of the large towns that any attempt at agitation for an increase of the suffrage was made. For such agitation it was difficult to find even a tolerable pretext. According to the political and commercial views of the reformers, the system established in 1832 had worked wonderfully, nay, marvellously well. They could, in fact, point to no practical grievance affecting life, liberty, or property, such as could only be remedied by a strong organic change. They could not accuse the House of Commons of turning a deaf ear to the representations of the urban population. But as, in the absence of reason, a pretext was necessary, they reared one up in the cry for economy and retrenchment. Supposing that there had been any grounds for such a demand, that our national expenditure was too great, and our finances unduly squandered, it is difficult to understand the chain of reason which connects the cure of these things with a change in the representative body. But, in truth, nothing could be more monstrous than such an allegation. When forced to specify and particularise the nature of their proposed reductions, the agitators could only refer to our military and naval establishments, and the expense of our colonial empire. If any doubt at all existed in the minds of men as to such points, that doubt has since been removed. After all the trash that has been uttered at Peace Congresses and Manchester gatherings, it has become clear, even to the meanest capacity, that our establishments, instead of being too large, are in reality too small, and insufficient even for our defence! We have no desire now to discuss such matters. We allude to them simply for the purpose of showing that the one pretext of the would-be agitators for a representative reform has given way under their feet.

If the anticipations of those agitators had been fulfilled—if they had carried, as they proposed, a sweeping measure of reform, based upon household or universal suffrage—and if, in consequence, the majority of the House of Commons had consisted of men professing the opinions of Mr Cobden, and resolute to put them into practice, into what a state of anarchy and abject terror would this country now have been thrown! Without a fleet to scour the Channel, without an army to defend our shores, we should have been at the mercy of almost any assailant. Yet such were the results which Mr Cobden and his friends distinctly contemplated, and which they proposed to bring about by lowering the franchise, and giving a large accession of political power to the manufacturing towns.

It is creditable to the sense of the country that the agitation totally failed—in fact, there never was any agitation at all. The electors generally abstained from giving countenance to any meetings on the subject of reform. Sir Joshua Walmsley and Mr Joseph Hume undertook journeys for the purpose of stirring up the embers, but they nowhere could create a blaze. Delegates, who represented nobody but themselves, assembled at Manchester, in the vain hope of hoaxing the country into the belief that there was a very general feeling in favour of radical reform. They might have spared themselves the trouble. Never was there so ludicrous a failure. The central English meeting was held under such sorry auspices that even Messrs Muntz and Scholefield, the members for Birmingham, declined to attend it. The conduct of the whole scheme reflected no credit on the strategy of Mr John Bright, who acted as generalissimo on this occasion. The Edinburgh meeting, held shortly afterwards, was, in every sense of the word, contemptible. With hardly any exceptions, it was avoided and abjured by every man of station, intelligence, wealth, and respectability within the city. In fact, the movement broke down. The Radicals wished to demonstrate that public feeling was with them; and their demonstration resulted in a clear proof that public feeling was against them.

Radical reform, therefore, is clearly not wanted, and would not be tolerated by the nation. Lord John Russell's measure, however, not being violently radical in itself, though convenient for the ulterior designs of Radicalism, will doubtless be supported by those who now perceive that they cannot at present hope to carry a broad scheme of democracy. It is, therefore, proper that we should consider whether any of the objections that can be urged to the larger scheme apply equally to the lesser one.

In our opinion, it will be impossible for Lord John Russell to prove the preamble of his bill. He certainly has not established, as yet, the necessity, or even the policy, of such a change in our representative system; nor can he hope to show that this measure of his has been called for by, or is calculated to meet, the requirements of the great bulk of the community. It is a gratuitous offering on his part: no one has asked it at his hand. Let us see, then, how he attempts to justify his introduction of this measure. To preface any measure with a justification is impolitic, because it implies the existence of a serious doubt in the mind of the speaker. He begins with one of these rhetorical commonplaces which has always a counterpart or opposite, either of which may be selected, as Aristotle tells us, according to the option of the speaker. We shall quote his own words:—

"The state of affairs in which I bring forward this motion ought to be satisfactory to Parliament and to the country. During four years we have seen the continent of Europe torn by convulsions; during that period the aspect of this country has been tranquil, and any threatened danger has been averted by the general spirit and unanimous feeling of the people. It appears to me that this is a proper time for considering whether any further extension can be given to the right of voting, consistently with the principles of the constitution, by which the prerogatives of the Crown, the authority of both Houses of Parliament, and the rights and liberties of the people, are equally secured."

So far good. But we are almost old enough to recollect the time when the same speaker, on the occasion of moving a previous measure of reform, had recourse to the counterpart of this commonplace. Then a reform in the constitution was necessary because the people were discontented; now, a reform is necessary because the people are contented. State the proposition in any mode you please, the argument resolves itself into that; alter the argument, and you must subtract from the present instance the plea of necessity, and fall back immediately upon the minor one of expediency. But as neither the satyr of the fable, nor the ventilating Dr Reid, can compete with Lord John Russell in the art of blowing hot or cold as occasion requires, we need hardly dwell upon this evident self-contradiction. It is, however, not a little remarkable, that he cautiously abstains from averring that there has been anything like a general demand for an extension or alteration of the suffrage. We confess that we were not prepared for this abstinence. The Whigs are not usually so scrupulous in their statements, at least since they began to enlist prosperity as a standing argument on their side; therefore it was with an agreeable surprise that we marked Lord John's implied admission, that nobody had thought it worth their while to solicit that boon which he was so gracious as to accord. It is beyond a doubt that he was wise in limiting himself thus. The right and practice of petitioning Parliament against any existing grievance is well known to the people, and is held in viridi observantia. Can any man believe that, if reform was really and substantially the wish of a large section of the community, the tables of both Houses of Parliament would not be groaning under the weight of the accumulated mass of petitions? Nothing of the kind has happened. Such petitions as have been presented to the House of Commons do not pray for moderate and gradual reform, but for universal suffrage, vote by ballot, annual parliaments, electoral districts, and all the other abominations dear to the hearts of the in-dwellers of Marylebone. The extension they require is specific, not couched in general terms. Lord John's measure will receive from them just the same consideration which would be bestowed upon a cup of milk and water, by an inveterate gin drinker whose soul was bent upon a dram. We are decidedly of opinion, and will remain so until we have proof to the contrary, that the class which Lord John Russell now proposes to enfranchise is supremely indifferent to the privilege. We used to be told that one particular reason for fixing the limit of the franchise at ten pounds, was the hope that the possession of that right would be so strongly desired, as to act as a wholesome spur and incentive to industry. That view seems to have been given up. The people will not work up to the franchise, so the standard of the franchise is to be lowered to their reach! Very convenient legislation this, but somewhat slovenly withal.

If, then, we are correct in our premises, Lord John Russell is volunteering a measure, which is asked for by nobody, which will satisfy nobody, and which, so far from settling the question permanently, must be regarded as a stimulus to farther agitation. He is, although he may not know it himself, on the highway to universal suffrage. People had begun to consider the ten pound clause in the old Reform Bill as something equivalent to a principle—now, her Majesty's chief adviser unsettles that faith, descends fifty per cent, and proclaims to the world that a further discount may probably be expected, if a material increase shall take place in the circulation of newspapers and periodicals, thereby, as supposes, testifying the augmented intelligence of the nation! It is really no laughing matter. Such was one of the leading arguments of the Prime Minister of Great Britain in justification of his scheme, and we can only hope that it was founded upon intense ignorance of the state of our present periodical literature. That the elements of education—that is, the power of reading and writing—are more generally diffused among the lower orders than formerly may be true, though we greatly doubt it; but that has nothing to do with the question at issue. No argument is required to convince us that some of the class which the noble Lord intends to admit to the franchise, possess much more than the mere rudiments of education; the question ought to be, whether what they do read is likely to fit them for discharging the important duty of selecting and sending proper representatives to Parliament. Let Lord John Russell, or any other legislator who may be of his way of thinking, but take the trouble to send to Manchester or Birmingham for weekly sets of the political, religious, literary, and moral miscellanies, which are most eagerly bought up and perused—let them read those carefully through, and consider well their tenor—and we are satisfied that the sturdiest advocate for progression would shudder to commit the fate of his country to men who were daily and weekly imbued with the principles inculcated by such publications. It is utterly absurd to talk of the mere increase of schools, as if such increase implied education in the proper sense of the word. At the schools a boy is taught to read and write, but he is not taught, and never can be taught, what he ought to read, and what he ought to abstain from reading hereafter. His mind is simply made photographic. He can take in and retain the ideas of others; and, unfortunately, the expressed ideas which come most naturally, easily, and perhaps most palatably within his reach, are precisely those which are most dangerous to his morals, and most likely to give him false views of society, and to unfit him for a proper discharge of his duties alike as a Christian and a subject. Lord John Russell, we are thoroughly convinced, is at this moment entirely ignorant of the kind of literature which is current among, and greedily devoured by the operative classes. It is no wonder that such should be the case. We confess, quite frankly, that our attention was drawn to the subject, not much more than two years ago, by certain representations made by publishers on the subject of the paper duty as affecting popular publications. Being unable to reconcile their statements with certain facts which came under our own knowledge, we thought it advisable to institute an inquiry, and in the course of that we collected copies of such works as were most generally circulated among the working classes. We are most happy to admit that some of them were entirely unexceptionable in their tone and doctrine. Many men are working among the operative classes with a true knowledge of their calling, and a sincere and devout intention to dedicate themselves to the task of raising the minds of the people, by inculcating sound principles of economy, morality, and healthful and religious feelings. But these constitute the exceptions, not the rule. The political journals which have the largest circulation are something more than Radical; they are, if not avowedly, at least in spirit, republican. The Peerage and the Established Church are the institutions which they assail with the most undisguised ferocity; and no means which falsehood can suggest are left unemployed to turn both into contempt, and to inflame the minds of the people against the aristocracy and the clergy. Personality, vituperation, and ignorance, are the characteristics of those journals. Lord John Russell, we suspect, would hardly have ventured to lay so much stress upon this educational argument, had he been aware of the manner in which he is habitually mentioned by those oracles of the lower orders. We have read descriptions of and commentaries upon himself, his character, and his measures, which assuredly were the reverse of flattering, as they were clearly calumnious and wicked. Several of the works of fiction, which are most greedily bought up, are utterly loathsome and depraved. The public appetite is not to be sated, as in days gone by, with mere melodramic romance, and tales of the wild and wonderful—there must be a relish of cantharides in the dish in order to make it palatable. We seldom hear anything nowadays of our old friends, the benevolent robber, the mysterious monk, the misanthropical count, or the persecuted damsel—these characters belonged to past times; our caterers for the public taste deal exclusively with the present. The nobleman of these fictions, whether he be old or young, is invariably a profligate and a seducer. No imaginable combinations of vice are too revolting for him—no villany too hideous to deter him. The heroine usually is "a daughter of the people," who sometimes successfully resists and sometimes falls a victim to the arts of the noble miscreant. But in either case, she is compelled to go through various stages of temptation and trial, which are described in glowing colours. Brothels, both public and private, are represented with an abominable minuteness of detail. So are clubs and gambling-houses, in which the aristocracy are represented as squandering the hard-won earnings of the poor. Compared with such writers, Eugene Sue appears almost a pattern of austere morality; and we believe that no man who has had the curiosity to inspect his works can misunderstand the force of that observation. Then there are biographies, in which the modern Plutarch gives a detailed and circumstantial account of such worthies as O'Connor who was murdered by the Mannings, giving due prominence to his personal intrigues from boyhood downwards. For the younger portion of the community there are cheap editions of pickpocket prowess, both in the narrative and the dramatic form, and enticing details of the exploits of divers other ruffians and burglars. All of these publications are illustrated by woodcuts, some of which, though not by any means the majority, display a considerable degree of artistical accomplishment.

Such is the favourite reading of the lower orders—such the practical application of their boasted educational powers. Unless education can go beyond this, we regard it not as a blessing, but as a curse. This is not the kind of liberty of the press which was contended for by Milton—it is a base license, calculated to deprave the morals, and pervert the understanding of the people. If the case be as we have stated it—if it is an undeniable fact that such are the doctrines and views inculcated by some of those publications which have an immense sale in the manufacturing districts—surely we may be excused if we hesitate to admit that the education of the lower orders is such that they can be safely intrusted with the franchise. It is not true that they are compelled to take this kind of literary diet for lack of better food. With them it is absolute choice. There are, as we have already said, many cheap journals and publications of an unexceptionable character, but, unless our information is altogether erroneous, these are neglected and put aside for the others of a vicious tendency.