Such were the methods by which the reigning oligarchy, operating hand in hand with the Sovereign, secured a majority in the House of Commons, and thus controlled the policy of the nation, under the false pretence that it emanated from the people. To a great extent this system was destroyed by the first Reform Bill. The great grievance of the day was redressed by a substantial measure. It is commonly said that the political effect of that statute was to assign the real power of the nation to the custody of the 'middle classes.' This is not a perfectly accurate statement of the change. The powers of the State were not made over by that measure to the merchants and tradesmen of the country, for the influence of the landed interest was even augmented by the Reform Act, and, though diminished, was not abolished in the boroughs. The effect of the new electoral law was made apparent by its securing for a time the preponderance of the popular and reforming party. It turned the scale for many years, and just enabled the Liberal party to carry a series of measures in harmony with intelligent public opinion. It was a tree of justice and freedom that bore abundant fruit. It is hardly too much to affirm that every great law under which we are now living and working was made or amended in the quarter of a century which followed the Reform Act, and is due to the Liberal party. But useful and fruitful as that measure was, it was not in the nature of things that it should be final. The opinions of enlightened men, and the desire of the masses, agreed in promoting some extension of the franchise, and after several futile attempts it was reserved for the Tories to effect it. The surrender was a strange and inexplicable transaction. Carlyle thus deals with it in that queer phraseology in which he chooses to address society:—
'Have I not a kind of secret satisfaction of the malicious, or even the judiciary kind (mischief-joy the Germans call it, but really it is justice-joy withal), that he they call "Dizzy" is to do it—a superlative conjuror, spell-binding all the great lords, great parties, great interests of England to his hand in this manner, and leading them by the nose like helpless, mesmerised, somnambulant cattle, to such issue?'[27]
In other words, we obtained from the natural opponents of constitutional change a political act which may be likened to the 'happy despatch,' and was hardly inferior to a revolution. The very centre of political gravity was displaced. The middle classes were dethroned. The late Lord Derby described his own operation as a 'leap in the dark,' and in a facetious mood is said to have confessed that it was intended 'to diddle the Whigs.' Surely this act of prodigious inconsistency was beyond justification or even excuse. The Liberal party would have shrunk from so vast a change until education had struck its roots more deeply into the unenfranchised population. The Tory party, on the contrary, determined to enfranchise the people, before they educated them, and it is our duty to acquiesce and realize our position. It is not for us to predict the future fate and fortunes of that incomprehensible party. They will gradually open their eyes to the full meaning of their own political deeds, and that meaning, expressed in one pregnant word, is Democracy.
But though we cannot reconcile the Conservative theories with Conservative practice, Tory professions with democratic statutes, it is not difficult to discover causes which pushed the party into such violent action. The obvious tendency of the age is to advance towards democratic institutions. Everywhere in Europe—Russia and Turkey excepted—power now springs from popular opinion and liberal institutions, of which the invariable impulse is not to rest, sleep, and be thankful, but to move, advance, and be doing.
'When a nation modifies the electoral qualification, it may easily be foreseen that sooner or later that qualification will be entirely abolished. There is no more invariable rule in the history of society. The further the electoral rights are extended, the more is felt the need of them; for after each concession the strength of the democracy increases, and its demands increase with its strength. Concession follows concession, and no stop can be made short of universal suffrage.'[28]
To apply this theory to the facts of Europe, it is evident that while at no distant period the policy of almost the whole continent was directed by the reigning sovereigns, we now discern the sovereignty of the people, in esse or posse, not less widely established. The causes which have led to this consummation are by no means obscure. The creation of municipal corporations introduced a democratic element into the area of despotisms. The invention of printing cheapened the diffusion of ideas. The post circulated information further and further, until its work seems to be almost perfected by steam and electricity. The Reformation lifted vast weights from the human mind. Slowly, but surely, the European populations have arrived at the comprehension of their just claims, and have decided that the end of government shall be the happiness of the people, and not the exaltation of the few. Thus it has come to pass that everywhere democracy is in the ascendant, and prerogative on the wane. Is not this assertion corroborated and exemplified in the political affairs of our own country? Can anyone honestly and fairly deny that the supremacy of the popular will is established? 'The people'—that mighty aggregate of millions of minds, whom Aristophanes delighted to caricature under the sobriquet of 'Demus'—is certainly invested with sovereign power. It may be that, like him, we are sometimes crotchety, sometimes too fond of oratorical blandishment, sometimes hasty in our judgments, and occasionally liable to panics. Notwithstanding these and other infirmities, public opinion, formed by the leading spirits of the day, 'rules and reigns without control.'
'You, Demus, have a nice domain!
For all men fear you, and you reign
As though you were a king.'[29]