nm%:uv-- mm-vm'ViwmmiiitMmsiaM UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SAN DIEGO 3 1822 00850 0894 r LIBRARY *^ 'JNiVERSlTY OP CALIFORNIA SAN DIEeO - UN]VERSITY Of- CALIFORNIA. SAN DIEGO 3 1822 00850 0894 Central University Library University of California, San Diego Note: This item is subject to recall after two weeks. Date Due SEP 15 1993 0139(1/91) UCSDLib. .£^'-i^v- AO VI CONTENTS. thing said to progress, 72 — Each series of progress emanating from and begetting another, 74 — Yet never amounting to change, 76 — Increase of quantity necessarily begets increase of qua- lity, 78 — Progress thus being increase, 86 — And increase the result of keeping and getting, ibid. — And that the result of the operation of the principle of Reform or the creating of new forms and new matters, ibid. — And of Conservatism, or the keeping what has already been obtained, ibid. — Political Progress was the necessary result of these two principles driven into active ■operation by the influence of parties, 87. CHAPTER V. ELEMENTS OF LEGISLATION. The foundation of laws are the wants of the people, 90 — The will of the people one great means by which laws are discerned, 92 — Laws dependent on the will of the people, 95 — Legislative Science the other great power by which laws are discerned, 97 — Causes of the violent operation of the principle of Reform since the close of the war, 104. CHAPTER VI. PUBLIC OPINION, As an organising force of Legislation, 121 — Not a new thing, ibid. — In its indirect operation, 130 — Necessarily adjuncts to all opinion, 139 — Public Opinion essentially a Democratic thing, 137. CHAPTER VII. EVIDENCES OF PUBLIC OPINION. Public meetings, how far evidence of the state of Public Opinion, 143 — Petitions and private experience, how far evi- dence of the state of Public Opinion, 151 — The opinions of the Press, how far evidence of the stale of Public Opinion, 155. • CONTENTS. Vll CHAPTER VIII. PUBLIC OPINION, AND THE STATE, When in juxta position, 169 — Rights of, as against each other, 173 — The value of public powers dependent on their utility, 177 — Public Opinion as a test or guide does not command much consideration, 187 to 196 — As the expressions of the feelings and sentiments of the public is entitled to respect, 202— As affording evidence of the actual wants of the people is an impor • lant element of legislation, 204 — The will of the State, and the will of the people, 206 — Public opinion as a power, to be feared and to be managed, 21G. CHAPTER IX. LEGISLATIVE SCIENCE. The organic element of all law, 223 — Strictly no science of legislation, 225 — Success in legislation, dependent on legislators themselves, 229. CHAPTER X. THE FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, WHOM HE REPRESENTS. The elective franchise does not belong to the freeholders, burgesses, &c., &c., 232 — Nor to those only who pay taxes, or are of a certain age or sex, ibid. — Nor to the classes, 240— But to the whole people, 250 — Therefore representative acts for them, ibid. CHAPTER XL THE FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, IN WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS, Whose will and wishes a representative must follow, 252 — The right of the will necessary to the right of opinion, ibid. — The will of the represented is, in fact, expressed in the vote of the representative, 254 — So by law as appears by the form of the VIU CONTENTS. writ, 259 — But the will of the representative also expressed, 264 — So by law, 268 — When the will of the representative and the represented at variance — which entitled to dominate, 271. CHAPTER XII. THE FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOK. Difficulties of not joining a parly, 282 — Difficulties of joining one, 283 — Difficulties of the work of legislation itself, 284 — Capacities necessary to encounter these difficulties, 288— All sorts of capacities useful in Parliament, ibid. — But the fundamental quality required is the strictly legislative or judicial powers, 290 —For this, industry is required, 293 — Next, reasoning powers, 297 — Lastly, integrity, 300 — Importance of the strictly legisla- tive character, 302. CONCLUSION - •- - - 306. INTPtODUCTIOX. Within the last thirty years we have had a silent revolution in this country. Not France, with all her commotions, has under- gone so complete a change as we. There they have hut altered the name, the form of government, the dynasty on the throne — here we have had revolutions in the opinions, in the sentiments, in the material interests of the people. There must be something in all this for him who thinks, as well as for him who acts — for the philosopher as well as for the legislator — for him who keeps the chro- nicle of ideas, as well as for him who records events. In revisiting the field where the strife of interests, theories, and of prejudices has been fought, when in that more quiet mood with which it is only permitted us to B 2 INTRODUCTION. contemplate the past, we should well be able to see errors that may warn us for the future — steps that it is not too late to retrace — to find confidences and assurances from suc- cesses already achieved, that may encourage us to new attempts. What I propose in the following pages is, to pass under survey and contemplation the events that have transpired in this country within the last thirty years — to try if there are not some truths — some principles to be found — that may serve to explain the past and to enlighten the future. By events, I do not mean those facts that more commonly fill the pages of histoiy. He who expects to find here a nice detail of the strife of inte- rests, the manoeuvre of parties, the violence of opposition, the subterfuge of ministers, the rumour of the clubs, and what the papers said, may pass on. There are other events, liigher — the causes, the efl'ects, the com- pounds, the abstracts and the emanations of these — as these are but the compounds, the causes and effects, the abstracts and the emanations, of others. The fact of the ex- INTRODUCTION. 3 istence of a desire for political improvement — the fact of the existence of causes of that desire — the facts which give rise to those causes — the effects which the desire pro- duces — how it operates — these, too, are events no less true than those we speak of. It is these we seek out, which we treat of here — the false, though it come from men of truth — and wisdom, though it come from fools. The present moment is unobjectionable for the inquiry of this sort. He who records the mere actions of men, must wait till the generation whose doings they were has passed away, in order that what he writes may be history ; and lest he be but telling a tale already told. He who searches history for instruction — who chro- nicles what passes in the great world of truth — may at once begin his task. For of this, even the great actors themselves are but little conscious. We hold but with an idle memory the process of reasoning, the petty or the noble impulses which guide our ac- tions, though the recollection of the acts 4 INTRODUCTIOX. themselves remains still strong with us. The real motives of om* deeds, even at tlie very time of their commission, are often concealed from us. All that arises from prejudice, position, party-feeling, ignorance, &c. — and these are great — are essentially so. Again. The phenomena to be observed in those events — the causes that have produced them — the effects they will produce — are new also, even to those engaged in them. By them, at most, are heeded those most obvious primary reasons which give rise to each mdividual transaction. But he who by historical study and reflection, is enabled to contemplate at one view the past and pi'esent — the passing and the future — can often see those relations which exist between them — those hidden, distant, but no less powerful first causes — those natural, conse- quential, but too often unprepared-for effects, which to the busy world of action go un- heeded. And for some reasons the present moment is especially adapted for an inquiry of this kind, and by that strange relation which facts INTRODUCTION. 5 bear to each other, it is pecuHarly the time in which such an inquiiy may be most useful. The rapid course of events in this country of late years has been such as to work an entire confusion in poHtical parties. The pace was too good to allow of the old dilatory machineiy of faction to keep up with it. The old-fashioned distinction of Whig and Tory, that had served so well for centuries, was broken up at once — and, by the new tests of Catholic Emancipation and Reform, some of the oldest Whig houses proved Tories, and some of the most violent Tories, Whigs. The new formation of parties, under the de- nomination of Reformers and Conservatives, was not more fortunate. The thunderbolt of the Corn Laws split them both up at once. A large party of the Conservatives, comprising their leader, co-operated with the Reformers — v/hilst many of the old leaders of the Re- form party have turned Conservative in their tendency. The formation of parties for the support of particular interests has had but a still shorter existence. The Corn Law League and the Protectionists have no exis- B 2 6 INTRODUCTION. tence now — at least as parties for the objects for which they were originally formed — for the Protectionists scarcely strive for a re- establishment of the Corn I^aws — professedly, at least. Others have not been more for- tunate. For good or for evil we know not here — but the Church, by the Emancipation Act and the repeal of the Test and Corpora- tion Acts — the Law, by the Small Debts and numerous other Acts — the Manufacturing Interest, by the Ten Hours and the Import Duty Acts — the Shipping Interest, by the reconstruction of the Navigation Laws — and the Colonies, by the repeal of the duties on foreign produce — have all been, in reality, or in their own opinions, severely affected. And it is precisely in this general crash of the par- ticular interests of the several great branches of the community, and in all the bitterness occasioned thereby, that the great interest of all may be best inquired into. For a little object that is near may serve well to block out from our view one of much c:reater majr- nitude in the distance. It is precisely at this moment of the confusion of all political INTRODUCTION. 7 distinction, and amidst this universal dis- gust at what is considered poUtical apostacy — amid this scepticism in poHtical faith — that the minds of men are best disposed for inquiry into the real truths of the question— for searching, whether, in the history of the events of the last thirty years, some principles of political wisdom may not be evolved that may re-assure and re-unite the faith, and, to some extent, the opinions of all. Science should well be able to do this. She has explained the laws by which inanimate bodies are governed — she has taught how the worlds above are moved in order and regularity — and it is, perhaps, that she has not given it that attention it demands, that she has not placed on more definite grounds the laws by which animate beings, mankind, nations, are best ruled. But it is time that she left her study of the past and pro- bable, for the world that moves and lives around her. If it be the majesty of the subject that pleases her, the discovery of the rules by which a people is best to be governed — the solution of all those pro- 8 INTRODUCTION. blems which society presents — should well suffice. If it be in difficulties she delights, there are propositions in political science, as in others, too, that it shall take her ages to solve. This much, at least, may be said, the inquiry here proposed is an important and interesting one ; and if the subject itself is found capable of being submitted to the pro- cess proposed, and if the powers that are thus brought to bear on it are found suffi- cient for the task, much good may be done. And if not, it were of use to have pointed out the spot where treasure might be found, though I myself failed in strength to dis cover it. CHAPTER 1. THE PRINCIPLE OF REFORM. Each age of a nation, like each particular period of a man's life, has generally some distinctive — some peculiar character im- pressed upon it. It is so with ours. If we look back upon the history of this country for the last thirty years, we cannot fail to observe, that the one great fact which stands out salient from all the rest, consists in a restless desire for the improvement of its political institutions. Doubtless, this has been met by the corresponding anta- gonistic disposition to keep them as they were, and so also to consult for the public welfare. But, whatever modification it may have been subjected to by the influence of 10 THE PRINCIPLE OF REFORM. this counter tendency, its operation has been as effective as the field it has embraced has been vast. There is nothing new in it — nothing pe- ciihar to the present age. The instinct for the amehoration of the institutions by which it regulates itself, is an essential principle of society, an impulse incident to all nations and to all ages. And the progi-ess made by any given people, or epoch, is in proportion to the influence this feeling has exercised. But it has manifestly operated among us here, within the period we speak of, to an unusual extent. And the proof of this is in the amount of alteration that has been effected, as contrasted with that of other times. For since the government m this country is subjected to the influence of the people, and all laws and all modifications of those laws are effected either by its expressed or tacit assent, the existence of all extensive alteration implies the desire for such a change by the people, and the amount of the result produced be- comes evidence of the amount of desire that was in operation to produce it. THE PRINCIPLE OF REFORM. 11 And not only in the nation as a whole, but all functions of the state — all institutions — all parties — all orders — have alike been affected by this disposition. The Crown in the advisers it has selected — in the measures it has recommended to the consideration of the legislature — in the tones in which those measures were couched, and in the number and importance of the royal com- missions it has issued : — the House of Lords — whatever opposition it may have offered to one or two of the great measures of the day — in the ready sanction it has given to the numerous other plans for political improve- ment sent up from the Lower House — and in the various measures it has itself originated : — the House of Commons, in the labom* it has undergone in those long mornings in committee — and those long nights in the wearying debauchery of public debate : — the Church — the Evangelical party, and since, by the High Church portion of it — in build- ing new churches, in rendering of those already built more worthy of the high pur- pose to which they are devoted — in greater 12 THE PRINCIPLE OF REFORM. attention to parochial duties, works of charity and beneficence — and in the discontinuance of all practices not in keeping with the solemn character of their duties : — the Law, in the new rules and orders issued from time to time by the judges — in the statutes for cheapening and expediting the administra- tion of justice in the Courts of Common Law, Equity, and conveyancing, that every session brings forth under the sanction of the law officers of the Crown : — the Army and the Navy, by the new regulations for the mitigation of corporal punishment, by the more frequent promotion of well-de- serving men from the ranks, by the stricter qualifications necessary for officers on pro- motion, and by the greater attention paid to the sciences, engineering, fortification, ship-building : — in the Universities, by the more frequent examination of the students, the greater variety of studies, the greater amount of qualification necessary for a de- gree — all alike have shown that all have alike been impelled by the restless, ambitious desire for self-amelioration, and for render- THE PRINCIPLE OF REFORM. 13 ing themselves more effective in carrying out the object for which they exist. What is this desire, this perpetual craving for improvement ? What is the theory — the principle of reform? When Heaven made man, it gave him a religious and moral sense to make him good; and then, to make him great, it gave him a vague, indefinite, unsatiable longing for the beautiful — the excellent — for perfection. And that this might not be wasting and self- consuming. Heaven gave him a creative power wherewith to satisfy itself. It is other than the moral sense of right and wrong. Though that, perhaps, has its origin in it. The function of that is to act as a damper in softening and modulating the human frame, when touched by the bold hand of passion, instinct, ambition, or intellect. This is itself an instinct, a desire, a cravinq; of the mind for food like that of the body. Like that, too, its longing is accompanied with a pleasing pain, and the gratification with pleasure. Or, rather, like those more delicate instincts of the sex im- c 14 THE PRINCIPLE OF EEFORM. planted within us, as the one simple principle by which the world was to be peopled, so this longing- for perfection, tliis ideal for which man was ever to be craving, but never to rea- lize, was given him, that the world might be covered with humanity as well as with man. This was the means by which all that higher destiny which awaited him was to be worked out. And it has been. All that surpassing excellence in religious, moral, and intellectual well-being which he has achieved — every comfort that he enjoys above that of his earliest state, has been obtained by the impulse of this longing. The essential distinction between man and the inferior orders of beings, consists in this, that they are content to think, and to act, to eat, drink, and to sleep, as now, so ever, and so on for ever; whilst man is urged by an ever-renewing, never-to-be-satisfied desire to ameliorate his condition — to add something: of the comfortable, of tlie noble of to-day to that of yesterday. The doctrine of content- ment — the proverb of " leave well alone," and such like, acting exclusively, is pe- THE PRINCIPLE OF REFORM. 15 liarly that of the lower grades of the Crea- tion. In its full extent it is at variance with this first principle of the physical tempera- ment of man in the individual — and if carried out, were fatal to the destiny of man as a race. He had not yet left the caves where he first dwelt, if he had yielded to it. No doubt all individuals are not affected by it alike. Some natures, from a naturally gross constitution, are as insusceptible to this impulse as they are to many others. Some, again, want the inventive, the creative power to gratify it with. And some races, as well as individuals, are more susceptible to its influences than others. Doubtless, too, its developement is gi'eater in the same people at certain times than at others — though this is attributable to causes and subject to certain laws. But under what- ever limitations or exceptions it may lie, it is, nevertheless, clear that it does exist — that it is an essential principle of humanity. It is this that has been at work in the political institutions of this country of late years. Whenever we see a man striving to 10 THE PRINCIPLE OF EEFORM. effect an improvement in his religious, moral, or material well-being, if we analyze his motives, we shall arrive at, as a last conclu- sion, that he is doing so in obedience to this desire, this love for perfection. Society is but man in the aggregate, with all his instincts and desires. The motive powers of action are traceable to the same source in both, and in seeking to improve its well- being, a people is but acting under an unpulse that is a first principle common to humanity. To say that reforms have been carried out because they were wanted, or had become absolutely necessary, is but to re-assert what has been above maintained, since that want and that necessity arose from this impulse. Doubtlessly, there are other, secondary motive powers, as it were, that have operated in this political change, besides that referred to. A disposition to change is a matter of phy- sical habit, a fidgettiness, a nervous affection, with some — though in this sense, perhaps, it is only an undue operation of the principle we speak of. In others, the desire for political THE PRINCIPLE OF REFORM. 17 alteration is a vanity for imposing their own theories upon society ; in others, a means of thrusting themselves upon the theatre of events ; a standard under which political adventurers, like soldiers of fortune, enlist and fight their way to honour and power. And even by parties, by whole bodies of men, it is not unfrequently held in this mean view. But an abstract truth is not affected by this — that men see it in a false light; nor is the unity, the identity, the absoluteness of truth, destroyed by this — that men worship it through a thousand different shrines. Even religion operates on different men in different ways ; with some it is a fear — with some a hope — with some a veneration for the Omnipotent Being ; with others a mere means of gain, and with not a few a mere vanity — a display. And so, too, with morality — fear of what the world says — dread of what the law may do — con- viction that on the whole it is the best policy, and many other such mean motives, are the impulses of its action on many minds. But for all that, religion and c 2 18 THE PRINCIPLE OF REFORM social morality are not the less true in their general results — neither is political morality. By it all men are led to the same end that is ordained to them, though hy different ways. Even if we grant pro- gress or reform to be a series of operations, originating in and carried out by a series of political combinations of men, with a view to serve their own ends, this will not render it the less, what we have above contended it to be — the natural impulse wliich mankind has to ameliorate his condition. For in so doing, those combinations must have been actuated either by their own innate instinct of love of perfection for that which was best in the institutions of the country ; or else, by a conviction that the public mind was impelled by such an instinct. In either case, it was the desire of man for his well-being which was the moving power. Besides, the community — the age — has adopted the movement, or has not repudiated it, and so has made it its own ; and, therefore, it can no longer be looked on as only the work of one particular party. And the great steps THE PRINCIPLE OF REFORM. 19 which humanity has taken in other direc- tions as well as in politics, have all heen commenced by individual exertions, and at first mainly supported by it. And the motive power of these exertions has often been a blind enthusiasm in the mass, a desire of notoriety and a prospect of self- advancement in an energetic few. It is nothing new in history, for the sublimest results to follow even from the meanest motives. It is well for society that its in- terests are so mixed up with that of indi- viduals ; else, would those higher and nobler aspirations, which, no doubt, are the ruling power in some minds, flag, and be but little able to contend with the stolidity, inertness, and selfishness which oppress the mass. The desire of improvement, then, which has manifested itself since the close of the war in the civil institutions of this country, is but a part of the great impulse of all humanity towards improvement. And if this be so, some important results will follow. For, first of all, a new and almost bound- less field of observation and experience, as 20 THE PRINCIPLE OF EEFORM. to it, is at once opened to us. We are no longer limited to a twenty years' trial of it; the whole career of humanity, so far as it is known to us, lies open for our conside- ration. On the principle that equrJs are equal to equals, all that we know of this principle — such as it existed in the mind of man in the individual, or man in the race, in past time — will be true of it, such as it exists in the body politic at the present. Again, it follows, that the principle of progress, of reform, or under whatever name it may go, is a right one. For no man who does not hold that the state of mankmd, such as it now is, is not preferable to that when they lived in the woods — or that the institutions of this country are not better now than when trial by ordeal or by battle prevailed — can refuse to admit that the prin- ci[)le of progress is a true one. Even if he did, he must admit that, from its universality, it is a law of human nature, and as such, that it should not, or could not, be gainsaid. Again, it follows, that it is boundless — endless — in its operation ; that there is no THE PRINCIPLE OF REFORM. 21 moment of cessation — that its work is never to be done. It may be weakened by the toil it imposes on itself, but never satisfied — never extinguished ; for that which it longs after, lives for, perfection, is never to be enjoyed — never to be realized. Improve- ment in political well-being, as in other well- being, but leaves us still with desires — with power of discerning further means of satis- fying itself — new hopes — greater powers and consciousness of power for achieving them. There may be something enfeebling in the thought, that the desire for political, as all other improvement or reform, is never to be satisfied — something paralyzing to the en- ergies, to think that, achieve what we may, victory is never to be obtained, the day is never to come when we may repose from our work at last. But it is so. It is in our religious, moral, and intellectual well-being — and so in our political. A people lives ; and, whether it advances or retrogrades, it changes ever, and its institutions must change too. And there is no such thing, then, as finality in political science. CHAPTER II. THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. But however powerfully the principle of Reform, the tendency to change and altera- tion, may have been at work among us of late yeai's, it has not been exclusively so. The influence of its antagonistic principle — that of Conservatism — has been immense and as extensive in its operation, at least. There is a Conservatism in tlie sense of a desire to keep existing institutions, but not necessarily as they are -, and a Conservatism as a desire of keeping them as they are — bad or good — without alteration. It is clear that, in both meanings of tlie word, it has deeply penetrated the minds of the people of this country, notwithstanding all the po- THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. 23 litical changes and alterations that have been going on. That Conservatism, in its most absolute sense — that of opposition to all alteration — has operated on the public mind, is mani- fest in the slow progress which all propo- sitions for alteration have made with it. Parliamentaiy Reform was a quarter of a centuiy actively and incessantly before the public before it impressed itself upon its belief. The people became indifferent to it duiing the six years next succeeding its being earned into effect.^ It was so with the Catho- lic Emancipation Act. Four ministries w^ere broken up upon it before it became tolerated, and it is questionable whether it ever was in England — at least before its passing.'' How slowly the Repeal of the Corn Laws made its way in this country, notwithstanding the advocacy it received from the most pow- erful journal of the day, and the vast exer- tions that were made by interested parties in it, is still in the recollection of all of us. * See Note A, in the Appendix. *■ See Note B, in the Appendix. 24 THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. Yet the truth of those measures, both in wisdom and in justice, is generally granted now, though to the last there is still a strong opposition. But it is in Conservatism in its more mo- dified sense — that of keeping things, but not necessarily as they were — that its influence is most discernible. With all the modi- fications — with all the developements that have taken place in the organic structure of the people — we have really radically changed nothing. Nothing has been changed in the full sense of the word — that is, ong tiling substituted for another. We may have limited or increased the qualities, the powers, the operation of certain functions of the state — they may ha^ e been developed in some respects and contracted in others, but not changed. The things have all been kept, though not as they were — nor has even any new principle been introduced into it. The Catholic Emancipation Act and the repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts, were nothing but a further carrying out of the liberty of conscience established at the THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. 25 Reformation, or rather on which the Refor- mation was estabhshed, and which has ever since been developing* itself by a series of enactments. There was nothing new in principle — no radical change effected. The Reform Act was but the giving effect to the Common Law right of the people to be represented — that is properly, fairly repre- sented ; and the abolition of the Corn Duties was but the re-integration of the law as it stood till comparatively of a recent date. They were all acts of developement, re-integration, restitution — but not of inno- vation or revolution. The Reform Bill itself was as much a conservatism as a radi- calism ; for wliile it entered fully on the repau' of the constitution, what it changed was a mere nothing to what it kept. And since great changes have taken place, and since those changes, as we shall pre- sently see, have been the work of the people or public opinion, it follows that the people — that public opinion — has been actuated by a conservative principle ; for that which has power to change, and changes by modifi- D 26 THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. cation, renovation, and not by innovation, must be taken to be influenced by tendency towards conservation. What is this disposition that leads man to cling to what he has — to keep things as they ai'e — to be fearful and disinclined to change ? What is the principle of Conser- vatism ? The very first principle of humanity — of every living thing — is that of self-preser- vation. It is in accordance with this in- stinctive impulse, that man ever finds him- self urged by an innate fear of what he does not know — what he does not comprehend. He refuses to take as nourishment things he has not tasted of before— to enter into places where he has not been — or in anything to trust to what he has no experience of. If he does, it is because that he is not in rea- lity ignorant of what he trusts to — that he knows it by the analogy it bears to some- thing that he was acquainted with before; and even then he confides in it by degi'ees — with a fear, a trembling, with a caution pro- portionate to his inexperience. And as he THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. 27 lias a dread of the new, so also he has a rational clinging to the old — to that which he is acquainted with and comprehends, and so need not fear ; for, do as he will, he must always be dependent upon what is about him. He calls this the actual — the real, and tlie disposition towards it, contentment. And so it is with society: what the instinct of self-preservation is to man in the individual, that of self-conservation — of conservatism — is to man in the aggregate. Mankind, like man, not only finds itself urged by a tendency to preserve itself from direct injury and annihilation, but by a feeling also to anticipate such occurrences. Society, also, fears to take any new nourishment — to adopt any unknown remedy for relieving those maladies it is subject to — to follow any new course of life — any new rule of action of which it is ignorant. And in so doing, man, in the aggregate, is actuated by an intuitive perception of that profound truth that lies at the bottom of all instinctive im- pulses, just as man in the individual is. 28 THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. But, again, there is a conservatism of the sentiment. It is in some — perhaps, in most — a passion of the imagination for the past. In this sense it is the train of ideas and feelings which an Enghshman feels for the institutions of his country. It is like those which the scion of some long old family feels for the mansion-house ; or those which we all experience when beneath the gothic arch of some cathedral. Venera- tion — a wonder that astonishes — a pride that makes it all our own, and a sweet sense of gratitude that at once repays the debt — the vastness that receives and protects all, if all do not officiate — the righteousness of proportion as a whole, even though some parts be too prominent — the beauty of de- tail, if it has its rough portions — the ages it has stood — the assaults that have wasted their little strength upon it — the marvel it has been in all ages, the model it is now — the bold minds that conceived it, and the lives that wore their weary selves away upon the work^ and which now sleep quietly beneath THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. 29 it — how is it possible not to be conservative of such a structure as this ? And in such sentiments there is truth. For wonder at that which is vast, admiration of thatVhich is beautiful — even though it be not perfect — are true. And gratitude is truth. Such sentiments are but the short cuts by which the feelings, stealing a march on the reasoning faculties, arrive at just conclusions before them. And as true, so useful. No truth rises and passes away idle — without having performed the functions assigned to it. It is these sentiments that attach us to our institutions ; and since they exist in us, and are dependent on us, it is these sentiments, therefore, that give them stability. And since those institutions have and shall contribute so essentially to our well-being, those feelings — those emotions — contribute powerfully to our welfare. But let those speak, who, by the want of these feelings, so essential to the existence of institutions, and so to the well-being oi" a people, are best able to judge of their importance. " The power of association," says M. Guizot, D 2 30 THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. speaking of the institutions of France before tlie revolutions of 1830 and 1848, " in fixing and fertilizing institutions, is very great. Our insti- tutions are beneficial and powerful when they rest upon truly national interests, upon ideas which have penetrated deeply into minds. Still they are young, they do not claim the authority of a long experience ; at all events, not of a long national experience. It was in the name of Reason — of Philosophy — that they first appeared; they took birth in doctrines — a noble origin, but for some time subject to the uncertainties, the vicissitudes of the human mind. What more useful than to make them thus strike root in the past — to unite the principles and guarantees of our social order to principles half seen, to guarantees sought in the same path through ages ? Facts are at present popular ; facts have favour and credit. Well, let the institutions, the ideas which are dear to us, be strongly established in the bosom of facts — of the facts of all time ; let the trace of them be everywhere found ; let them everywhere re- appear in our history. They will thence derive force, and we ourselves dignity ; for a nation has higher esteem for itself, and has greater pride in itself, when it can thus, in a long scries of ages, prolong its destiny and its sentimcuLs." THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. 31 The events in France in 1830 and 1848, and ever since that period, have not tended to weaken the profound truths of the remarks. But again, there is wisdom in the past, and the sentiment which man has for it is but a part of that general instinct that leads him to wherever knowledge is to be found. What experience is in the common affairs of hfe, in the private affairs of individuals — history is in matters that concern the public. Practical views, acquaintance with the spiiit of the age, suffice well enough for the ordi- nary matters of legislation ; but most of the great questions of the day, all those in which any principle is involved, appeal at once to experience — to the past. And they do so as a natural consequence ; for the present is a compound of the past, and the past exists in the present. The love of the past, then — the desire to dive into it, and so to acquire experience — is a tendency, a pas- sion given us for our good. It may be abused, but we are not the less right in 32 THE PRIXCirLE OF CONSERVATISM. making proper use of it. Nor should we be the less wrong in neglecting, in despising it. Again, the beneficial influence with which the past acts upon the present is immense. With all the progress which this, as every other age, vaunts itself to have made in tlie great march of civilization ; with all that it claims to have achieved of itself, it is a mere nothing compared to that which it has inherited of the ages that have gone before it. The result of tlie last thirty years of legislation — so active and so intense as it has been — is, after all, but a little to the great bulk of our laws and institutions. And this, even though in mass of statute book it exceeds by tenfold that of all preceding ages taken tooether. There is not a clause of Magna Charta or the Bill of Rights, or a principle of our Common Law, regarding the general interests of society, or the welfare of the subject, but what acts in its results — acts then on society more powerfully than all modern statutes taken together. And that grand, yet almost forgotten sentence — THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. 33 " NitUus liber homo capiatur, vel impriso- iietii?', aid disseisiatur,'' &c. — as the ground- work of the liberty of the incUvidua], and so of all the free institutions of the country, and so of all its greatness — enters more deeply into the well-being- of the country, has more in it than all the Reform Bill and all its results taken together. But not only for all that we have, but which we have not, ourselves created, are we indebted to the past. It is not only the things themselves — these institutions of liberty — this individual and general wealth — this refinement of manners, of feelings, of taste — these fleets, that bring the riches of the whole world as tribute to us — this cloud of clattering mills — this fertile soil, that we hold by the tenure of conservation from the age that has just gone, as that did from the one that was before it, and so on for ever ; but the power, the knowledge that enables us to use them to their utmost capa- bility — to improve upon them — it is this also that we owe to them who have preceded us. Individual energies and talent die with the 34 THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. man; and his taste and refinement, which give rise to those energies, go too. But those of society, hke society itself, Hve on, and are transmitted from one generation to another. The desires, the aspirations, the knowledge, the activity, and the enterprise of a people, is never developed — never comes to them — all at once ; but by gradation, by progression, by one increase that begets another, and so on by a compound interest movement. They may be caught, too, by contact with other people, and hence it is that mercantile and manufacturing countries always take them soonest, though they soon- est leave them. But even with such nations, these qualities do not make much advance, except through a course of generations. If they have operated sooner with some, it is because such communities were not new as societies, if they were as nations. At start- ing in this latter capacity, they already held a mass of knowledge, habits, and refine- ments, that had accumulated by ages. It was so with the United States, and is so every day in our own Colonies. We say that they THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. 35 have succeeded so well, because they had the English blood m them, &c. j but in reality we mean, that they had the English mind — English civilization — so thoroughly imbued with, so completely a compound of, the past. The best proof that they owe their rapid ad- vance not to their own individual exertions alone, but also, and mainly, to those who have preceded them in the march of civili- zation, is, that if they had started entirely independent of the influence, of the examples and habits, energies, knowledge, wants, de- sires, and other constituent principles of civilization of the mother country, which is but an accumulation in all these things of the labours of the past, they would ha^e done as all others have done in similar cir- cumstances — have remained for centuries buried in the state in which they first found themselves, or with scarcely any visible im- provement. We owe to the past, then, not only every- thing we have not ourselves created — which is nearly everything we have — but the very materials out of which we have effected all 36 THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. that we have ourselves made — the desire, the knowledge for making- them, and the very taste and power of enjoying them. Finally, there is really no such thing as the past in the life of a nation. In its common sense, it implies that which is gone — which is dead. Nothing is gone. Nothing dies which belongs to a people. For as that is itself, in some sense, immortal, so all that belongs to it is immortal too. The legis- lation of to-day is a compound of that of to-day with that of yesterday ; and that, again, a compound of that of the day before with that of centuries. And thus the present is prolonged into the past, and the past is continued into, lives in, the present — to in- finity. The political facts of the present time all have their roots in, draw their nou- rishment from, that which is gone ; they en- gender one upon another f and even if they perish themselves, they live in a countless progeny. By re-enactment on re-enactment, developement on developement, the original '■ See Note C in tlic Appciulix. THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. 37 text of a statute, or a principle of Common Law, may have been forgotten and become of no direct effect, but is not the less a living principle of action, for all that. Then it exists still. Even laws that have been expressly abrogated, still exist in their effect on society, for that never entu'ely yields up impressions once imposed upon it. No doubt there are, and there have been, other, meaner impulses of conservative ac- tion than those we speak of. The one great means which men of progress have chosen, or rather, perhaps, have found necessary to employ in carrying out the object had hi view, has been absorption — the fusion of all minor or secondary interests into that of the one great whole by free trade, and the subjugation of all local and secondary powers into that of the state by centralization. In effecting this, it is clear that the privileges of some classes, and the powers and dig- nities of others, must have been sacrificed. And since bodies of men, as well as indi- viduals, are by nature selfish, the natural effect of this progress has been to create 38 TRE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. Conservatism, in the sense of a desire to keep things as they were, in order to pre- serve individual interests, to gratify indi- vidual vanities and prejudices, at the expense of that of the community at large. In this sense it is a selfishness, and as such has manifested itself in all parties, in all inte- rests, in all institutions. The Crown, in Doctor Hampden's case, in insisting on its right to present any one to a hishopric, iiTe- spective of the fitness of the party (for that was the principle on which it grounded its claims) — the House of Commons, in Stock- dale's Case, in placing itself, which is only a part of the State, above the law, which is the edict of the whole State — the Landed Interest, in its opposition to the Corn Laws, and on other occasions — the Manufacturing Interest, in its opposition to the Ten Hours Bill, and the re-adjustment of the burdens upon land — the Shipping Interest — the Colonies — the Church — the Law — the Uni- versities — the Army and Navy — the Corpo- ration of tlie City of London, and most other corporations — have all manifested a ten- THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. 30 dency to Conservatism, in tliis mean sense of the word. And Conservatism is, no doubt, with some a matter of physical constitution, not as an active principle of fear or caution, but as the absence of all activity — a lethargy, insensibility. And in this sense it exercises an immense influence on society. Indivi- duals, nations, and whole races succumb to it, as in India, and, to a great extent, in Ireland. But, as with Reform, the truth of it, as an abstract principle, is not affected by the perverting purposes to which it is applied, the false glass through which it is viewed, or the selfish or stolid inertness of the men, who, as false disciples, seek shelter under its name. Conservatism, then, as an instinct — as a dread of new things — has been, and always must be, an essential principle of society. As a sentiment — as a love of old things — as a natural impulse of gratitude towards that which man owes so much to — a vene- ration for that which is permanent and er;- during — as a tender sensibility for old asso- ciations — it is, at bottom, a moral feeling of 10 THE PKINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. the highest order. And with such a past in pohtical institutions — in political histoiy, as we inherit, its operation on our minds to any extent, so long as it did not prejudice the future, were justified and were natural ; and its absence could not be looked upon but as a moral defect. In both considerations, then, Conserva- tism is an absolute truth, which it is per- mitted no one to deny. An absolute truth, but not one of absolute sway. The destiny of man, we have seen, is not only to live, but to improve his well-being. And the exclusive dominion of the principle of self- preservation — and so the fear of new things and the love of old ones — is counteracted by the tendency of another instinct — to pro- gi-ess — which necessarily leads him to new things, and contains within itself a love, a tendency for them, an impulse to advance, to dare, to explore. And thus the life of the race and of the individual, passes in perpe- tual vibration between the attractions of these two principles and their results ; aspirations and fears — ambition and contentment — THE PRINCIPLE OF CONSERVATISM. 41 caution and courage. But whatever counter- acting principle it may meet with, or to whatever modification it may be subjected. Conservatism is not the less a foundation- stone of society. ■E '2 CHAPTER III. POLITICAL PARTIES. And as Conservatism and Reform, as ab- stract principles, are true, so the parties formed on them are true in tliis respect — that they have been powerful means of for- warding those principles. But not, there- fore, true as of themselves. On the contrary, as a fact, they always have been false to the object of their existence, and in theory they must have been so. For by the term *' Reformers," is usually understood a certain party, who have exclusively, as against all the world beside, evinced a desire for political change, and so for political improvement. There is no such party. All parties have evinced the same tendency. Even those POLITICAL PARTIES. 43 most opposed to political change, in some respects have been those who have dis- tinguished themselves in favour of it in others. Huskisson, Canning, and Peel, though anti-reformers in one sense — that of parliamentary reform — were reformers in all others. The difference between the two great parties, in this respect, consists only in this — the Tories devoted themselves to practical reforms, to curing the local disorders and complaints of society, and were too fear- ful in adventuring on constitutional remedies; Whilst the Whigs were full bold in organic change, and have too much neglected imme- diate remedies. Mr. Huskisson was really the. gi'eat genius of Free Trade, after Adam Smith. It was he who, as a statesman, first gave practical developement to the theories of the philosopher.** Canning led the first great attack on the Corn Laws, and his sliort administration was eminently progres- sive."^ The passing of the Catholic Eman- cipation Act — the reduction in the duties on ' See Note C, in the Appendix. '' See Note D, in the Appendix. 44 POLITICAL PARTIES. Corn in 1828, with a promise of further con- cessions — Peel's Criminal Law Amendment Acts — the Abolition of the Punishment of Death, except in cases of murder, and forgery of wills — the Committee on the East India Charter — the Commission of Inquiry into the Common Law, and the Law of Real Property — the Abolition of the Test and Corporation Acts, and the reduction made in the Army and Navy estimates in 1829 and 1830, in the latter amounting to more than one million, though in each of the two preceding years large deductions had been made — all prove that the adminis- tration of Sir Robert Peel and the Duke of Wellington, in 1827 — 1830, was eminently progressive, and that their party and that that unreformed parliament were so too. And if from 1830 to 1835, a counter ten- dency was dominant among them, it was not without cause. The progress of organic change was becoming more rapid than even its leaders desired, and they wanted tlie assistance of their enemies, to enable them to keep their friends in subjection. The POLITICAL PARTIES. 45 danger over, Sir Robert Peel and his party returned to their former course — that of moderate practical reformers, and they have ever since remained so. Again, if by the word " Conservatives," is meant a set of men, wlio have exclusively, as against all the world beside, sought to maintain and keep up the great principles of the constitution, there is no such jiarty, for other men and other associations of men have laboured at the same point. The necessity to repair, in order to keep up, was the argument always used, and the principle acted on, by the Reform party. And when we consider all that they have done, and still more all that in 1831 and 1832 they were pressed to do,® and perhaps had the power to do, they may be taken, perhaps, to have been more conser- vative than the Tories. For they who had the power to alter radically, and were pressed on to do so, and yet who did not do so, must be looked upon as more entitled to the appel- lation of Conservatives, than those who only • See Note E, in the Appendix. 46 POLITICAL PARTIES. desired to preserve from change, and acted up to it. Even though it be denied that the Reformers, as a party, had the power to effect a change to the extent we have as- sumed, or that there was that great pressure for a more radical change — yet since both, no doubt, existed to a great extent, tliat will be sufficient to support the main position, namely — that under a strong temptation, the Reformers proved themselves imbued with a spirit of conservation. But the Reformers and Conservatives are not disentitled to the claims each sets up as a party, on these grounds alone — that of not being the exclusive advocates of the principles which they have respectively adopted — for each has, on occasion, mani- festly deserted from those principles. The Reform party has now been constantly in power for the last twenty yeai's, and yet the Courts of Common Law, Equity, and Eccle- siastical Jurisdiction, the Universities, and the Coi-poration of tlie City of London — which of all other institutions are tliose which demanded their most immediate at- POLITICAL PARTIES. 47 tention, and in the reform of which they would have been most unanimously backed by the country — are precisely, or nearly so, as they found them. And it is impossible to deny that the party of Sir Robert Peel has often shifted its grounds. And even that portion of it who refused to do so in 1847, seem disposed to do so now.*^ And as, in point of fact, the great parties have played false to their colours — so, in point of theory, they must have done so. We have seen that Reform and Conser- vatism are true principles of all good govern- ment — that both are the essential consti- tuents of it. But the parties formed on these doctrines are severally combinations for carry- ing out — for giving effective operation to — one only of these ; or, at least, for giving one a dominant, preponderating, if not exclusive, influence in the government of the country. Each of these parties, then, is grounded on a false theory. All who claim a truth exclu- sively as their own, or who profess to take ' See Note F, in the Appendix, 48 POLITICAL PARTIES. one great truth as their rule of action in the country, when one other, at least — though it be the antithesis of their own — is an essen- tial principle of such government, place themselves in a false position. And all combinations formed on such a basis, must be untrue to themselves, and deceive those who place confidence in them. And the best proof of the necessary fal- sity of parties, is to be seen in the way in which all such combinations, or the leaders of them, when called upon to act and consult for the whole state, are at once obliged to abandon the characters and the line of con- duct they held as party men. The ministry of the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel, in 1827-1830— though they had affected, when in opposition, to despise the ministry of Mr. Canning as " Reformers,"^ and, though they pretended to govern the coun- try on the old Tory principles — were really, as we have seen, carrying on a trenching system of reform. The moving principle • See Note G, in the Appendix. POLITICAL PARTIES. 49 of the Reform party, so long as they were a mere party, an opposition, was exclusively that of political change — of reform. They dwelt on that alone, and if they had other convictions, they were forgotten. But on their accession to power — the heat of the conflict of two great parties and of the two great principles over — the truth, the neces- sity of Conservatism, soon forced itself upon their attention ; and, as we have seen, that became as active a principle in the Reform Government, as Reform had been of the Conservative one. In 1830, Sir Robert Peel formed a party on the exclusive prin- ciple of Conservatism ; or, at least, with a view of devoting its energies exclusively to the giving effect to that principle. But no sooner was he called on, in 1835, to act as minister, than he found it necessary, through a letter to his constituents,*" to announce that he really was a reformer. And the fact of his doing so showed, that he thought it was necessaiy — that he thought the public "^ See Note H, in the Appendix. 50 POLITICAL PARTIES. would think otherwise. And in Fehruavy 1851, on the probabiUty of the Protec- tionists succeeding to office, they manifestly abandoned the high grounds that they had previously taken as Protectionists ; and Mr. Disraeli, in repudiating, in the name of his party, the doctrine of finality, certainly pro- duced a new and favourable impression on the public. Again, a political party formed upon the basis of a political principle, is in a false po- sition, for then its binding principle is a tacit understanding for the observance and cai*ry- ing out of a certain political theory, as it exists at that time. But such a theory is a thing incapable of such an allegiance. It has no personal identity, for it is always undergoing developement — amplification — in some respects, modification in others. It never is to-day such as it appeared yester- day. Its adherents, then, are not only inces- santly being set free from their allegiance to it, but are rendered incapable of perform- ing it. And this is the secret of all those breakings-up of parties, and all those impu- rOLITlCAL PAUTIES. 51 tations of apostacy and inconsistency, which are such a perpetual source of confusion and ill-feeUng in the poUtical world. But in truth, there has been and can be no such thing as apostacy in political science. It may exist, and no doubt has existed in some cases, in the sense of a change of opinions, from corrupt motives, as consistency has, no doubt, existed from the same cause. But, except as a dishonesty, there has not been, and cannot be, either in the meaning of tlie word or in fact, any such thing. Apostacy is the desertion of some faith — some religion — the relinquishing the belief in certain laws, that are in their nature fixed and im- mutable, which are incapable of further de- velopement — finite as well as immutable; and inconsistency is a modified apostacy in action. But apostacy, or what is so called in politics, is only the desertion of opinion, or of the temporary rules and dogmas of a science as yet imperfectly developed. These are in their very nature liable to error, and must necessarily be taken to be open to modification and extension, and, therefore, 52 POLITICAL PARTIES. to chano-e and alteration. For leo-islation is a science, that has for its object the dis- co veiy, or rather the developement of the laws by which society is to be governed. And as a science it is in its very nature pro- gi-essive, for the reason that all the truths in it do not evolve themselves at once, if ever at all. And it is one that is not capable, as some are, of having its problems absolutely demonstrated. All its received axioms of to-day are to-mon-ow found to be false, or liable to be qualified or extended. It is impossible, then, for any man, or set cf men, in following it out, to be consistent in the common sense of the word. And he who devotes himself to the political sciences, is no more to be charged with apostacy, be- cause he changes his opinions in them, than he who gives himself up to natural science, because he alters his in that. It is the necessaiy condition on which the advance- ment of all knowledge depends. The question of justice or injustice, right or WTong, in a moral point of view, as well as that of right and >\Tong in a scientific POLITICAL PARTIES. 53 consideration, no doubt arises in all the great measures of the day ; for, some how or other, the material interests in this country get strangely mixed up with political ones. And in all questions of right and wrong, in a moral sense, we ought to be able to make up our opmion at once, finally and immutably. For in this sense, the principles of morality, like those of religion, with which they are perhaps identical, exist in our minds in a full integrity, and are not open to those mutations which developement gives rise to. But before we are in a state to form an absolute, final opinion, as to the justice or injustice of any particular measure, it is necessaiy that we should be in full posses- sion of all the facts. For every new fact that is developed and added to the question in issue, creates a new case for our con- sideration. And the great political questions of the day are in their nature, from the force of circumstances, incapable of being thus placed before us with all these facts at on^e disclosed. When a measure first thrusts itself r 2 54 POLITICAL PARTIES. upon the public attention it is a mere theory, a vague, indefinite notion, yet one in which men are not the less confident and deter- mined — a mere guess and jump at the truth, yet one in which they are frequently right. It may be a conviction in the minds of some, who, by a peculiar knowledge of the facts on which it is based, or by the study wliich they have devoted to it, are enabled to form ' such a conclusion. But with the mass, and even with the portion most violent for or against it, it is always otherwise. It is only after two or three Commissions or Committees of Inquiry have got out all the facts bearing on it, and after those facts have been analyzed by public and private discussion and de- bate, that the grounds upon which even the justice or the injustice of the case can be considered are evolved. Far, then, from being able to arrive at a full conclusion at once as to the right of a question, in a moral point of view, it is cleai' that our minds must, as we advance deeper and deeper into it, be in a continual state of change. It may probably be the last fact, or the last POLITICAL PARTIES. 55 argument, that turns the scale. And it must not be forgotten, that our moral as well as our intellectual faculties are liable to be warped by prejudice ; and that it requires time, discussion, and consideration to re- move that prejudice, so as to give full play to the one set of faculties as well as to the other. And there is yet another point of view in which political apostacy must be considered. It implies not only a change of opinion, but the desertion of a party. And in this there is an apparent dereliction of moral duty. For in all associations of men for carrying out a particular purpose, or sup- porting a particular line of policy, each member gives his countenance, his labour, his interest, and sometimes his money, in consideration of the other members doing so too. And not only in theory, but the thing- is practically so. No ten men would support a cause which they did not feel was sup- ported by others. If they did so for a time, they would eventually grow dispirited. No one, especially if he be a leading member 56 POLITICAL PARTIES. of it, and who by his position has become of vital importance to it, has a right to desert his party. For in so doing he prejudices the others, and in reahty breaks his contract, and his faith with them. For such a change of opinion there is no justification, as nothing in law or common equity can be g-iven as an excuse for a detriment to others. But men have other and higher allegiance than that which they owe to their party — that to the public. In all that concerns the welfare of the people at large, they are mani- festly bound to consult for that first. And a member of the legislature eminently so, not only by the duty he owes in common with all other men to the state, but because he is the delegate of the public, to consult for its benefit ; and it were a breach of trust to allow a secondary trust to warp him in his duty to that. And where a man owes allegiance to two, and it becomes impossible, by the clash of interests, for liim to do service to both, he is clearly bound to perform his duty to the authority paramount — to that with which he first POLITICAL PARTIES. 57 contracted. And for so doing he is not open to scandal, since he has to choose between an alternative, and he takes that in which there is the least breach of faith. He is in fault, no doubt ; but it was in thus taking on himself a second allegiance — in becoming a member of a party — the ser- vices of which might, under circumstances, become incompatible with those he already owed. But since the party, in accepting the allegiance, knew at the time that he who was yielding it owed a paramount allegiance to some one else, it must be taken to have accepted such second allegiance with the condition, that where the two clash, that which was first contracted should be ob- served. This is necessarily the tacit under- standing under which all political associa- tions with parties are contracted. And in no sense of the word, then, and under no consideration, is there any such thing as political apostacy and inconsistency, except as an absolute dishonesty. It is only of parties considered in relation to themselves, and as the followers — the 58 POLITICAL PARTIES. believers in the assertion of certain general principles, that we have been speaking. When formed for carrying out a specific object, as the repeal of the Roman Catholic Disabilities, or any other one fixed object, they have been — and must have been — more consistent, because their purpose was single, understood, and agreed upon at starting. And as combinations of men for forwarding a particular interest, or for forwarding the interest of each member by promoting that of the party, they are more true to their object, more steady and concentrated, be- cause the interest of the party, and so of each member, has something more binding in it — something more discernible and prac- ticable in its results. That, too, which keeps them together, selfishness, has more of the sliding-scale in it — adopts itself to circum- stances more than an abstract principle of political science. And the feelings of am- bition, envy, and hate, and other active impulses, exist in parties viewed in this light, which do not exist — or at least in an equal degree — when looked upon as tlie POLITICAL PARTIES. 59 assertors of mere doctrines, or as tlie dry- disputants on what is best for the pubhc. And even those parties which have for their basis the working out of some false theory, collaterally effect true and important results. The success of that theory is the professed bond of union, the primary cause, their existence, and, no doubt, always the one most looked to. But there are other re- sults, secondary perhaps in consideration, but primary in importance — to which they unwittingly lead. Like so many other things false in themselves, they are nevertheless made the instruments of truth. We have seen that Conservatism and Reform are both essential principles of government ; and we shall presently see, that the extent to which a government will an- swer to the ends for which it is ordained, will, in a great measure, depend on the influence which each of these principles, in its proper ratio, operates upon it. It follows, then, that these principles should be worked to their full capacity. And for this political parties are, of all things, the best adapted. 60 POLITICAL PARTIES. The Reform and Conservative parties, as the advocates of a cause, as men who devote their united labours to searching out and evoking all the facts and all the arguments that lie on their side of the question, and in placing them in the boldest and strongest point of view, have truth in them, and render an essential service to the state. As combina- tions, too — as a sort of public companies, in which each of the individual members throws into one common stock his integrity, ability, standing in the country, for giving conside- ration and effectiveness to the respective principles and line of policy he thinks best — as a sort of association of workmen, in which all unite their knowledge and their labour for the obtaining a given result — parties are manifestly admirable schemes. The theory of combination is true in the commercial world, and so it is in the political one. There, too, by the accumulation of credit, of capital, and of labour, each man increases by many-fold the productive power of the particular thing he contributes over that it would give if he operated separately POLITICAL PARTIES. 61 by himself. The principle of reform, how- ever deeply and extensively it may have penetrated into the minds of the people of this country, would never have received that practical developement — would never have been able to have achieved that immense victory in 1830-33 it did, had it not been for the combination of the convictions, the weight of the character, the energies, of indi- viduals, into one — that of a party.' And, in 1832, the formation of the party under Sir Robert Peel, in concentrating, organising, and giving expression to the conservative feeling of the country, kept up the balance of the two great principles, and contributed powerfully to save the country from con- fusion."^ Again, whatever may be the force of abstract truth upon our minds, it only produces conviction, and so only obtains half the result which it ought to achieve. To give it its full operation — to make it fecun- date — it always requires the co-operation of some active principle. There is, no doubt, a ' See Note I, in the Appendix. ^ See Note K, in the Appendix. G 62 POLITICAL PARTIES. natui'al tendency in the human mind, as soon as it is possessed of a new truth, to propa- gate it to others.^ And this is the ground- work of all enthusiasm for the propagation of relio-ious belief, and has eminently been a secondary power by which Christianity has been spread. But in the diffusion of the dry and abstract truths of political philosophy and other matters, the propagation of which is neither accompanied by any immediate benefit to ourselves, nor by moral gratifica- tion, as in the dissemination of religious truths, some further incentive and motive influence become requisite. And it is thus that individual ambition and selfishness, and even the meaner impulses of rivalry and jea- lousy, always have formed, and probably always must form, powerful ingredients in the deve- lopement of all knowledge and power, and to some extent even of religious belief; and if the alloy be base, still it is a necessary in- gredient to give the metal that capacity for being worked, that can alone make it useful, ' See Note L, in tlic Appendix. POLITICAL PARTIES. 63 And it is precisely by increasing and de- veloping these mere animal qualities, thus necessary for making intellectual ones fruit- ful, that political parties have, and probably always will, conduce powerfully to a great end. Men with the same convictions and interests — the same prejudices and antipathies — by associating together, mutually act upon each other, and render their convictions more positive, their feelings more intense, and their devotion to the cause more complete. It is a fact no one will deny, that there is always more energy and devotion among those who belong to a party, than among those who, though holding the same opinion, and to the same degree, act isolatedly. They may be urged by more bigotry and wilful violence, but these are the necessary concomitants — perhaps, even, the necessary ingredients — of the more useful qualities. And these impulses, which parties are so well calculated to foster, may often, at times, be prejudicial and even dangerous to the country ; as they were this spring,™ when "" In March, 1S5L 64 POLITICAL PARTIES. the governments both of England and France were thrown into abeyance by the wilful collision of the factions. But for all that, on the whole, by keeping the political world in that constant state of activity so essential to the healthy state of all living agencies, by being ever ready to act as cham- pions, as advocates, in the great questions which are continually thrusting themselves upon the stage of events — by collecting, representing, and gi^'ing expression to the opinions of the masses — political parties perform an immense function in the State. They may be, and are, false to themselves — by their conduct they are incessantly belying the motto under which they fight; at one time they desert the standard under which they gather — at another they split, and desert each other ; they always fail to achieve what, in the blindness of enthusiasm, they aspire after — they break to pieces, or weary out with antagonism, and they pass away. But not having lived in vain — for they have been useful. If each has failed to effect its own purpose, which is always eiTor, each has POLITICAL PARTIES. 65 helped in effecting a higher one — trutli. Things despicable in themselves, they be- come commanding, from the great ends to which they have been made subservient ; and, though false and narrow in their motives, broad truths are their results. G 2 CHAPTER IV. POLITICAL PROGRESS. We have seen that the great principles of all political action, of recent times, have been Conservatism and Reform. We have seen that these principles have been universal in their operation, affecting all functions — all orders — all parties — all classes, and if not all alike, or all adequately, still all to a powerful extent. We have seen that both are but portions of certain general principles of humanity — that therefore they are true, and have, and must have, imposed them- selves on all parties — on all parts and func- tions of the State, since all, by the force of the internal necessity of conscience, are driven to seek, or, by the force of outward circum- POLITICAL PROGRESS. 67 stances, forced to find, truth. We liave seen, also, that pohtical parties, however false in other respects, as the agents — as the be- hevers in — as the assertors and propagators of these principles, severally, are true. We will now consider them in their results. For they, like all other truths, are but as the means to an end, the stepping-stones to other truths. And the end to which they lead, the object, perhaps, of their existence — the necessaiy result of Conservatism and Reform worked by political parties, is political progress — the developement of the institu- tions of the people. To progress — to improve in its religious, moral, and intellectual well-being — is the instinct, and so the destiny of humanity. We have shown that man, in the individual, is endowed with an instinct and a power for ameliorating his condition, and that society has this instinct and this power also. But society — man in the aggregate — has other powers in addition, which man in the indi- vidual has not. A persistence of being — a permanence — a sort of immortality — is 68 POLITICAL PROGRESS. one of these ; though man perishes, society lives on. And this persistence of being not only affects the race itself, but all that belongs to it — its religion — its morality — its knowledge — its institutions — its habits, and its civilization. Though the mind of a man — all that exists within him and for him — goes where he goes ; all that has passed out of him which was worth possessing — all tliat of new idea, of new form, which he has contributed or stamped upon society, lives through all time. As remarked by M. Buchez* — "Society constitutes a medium " active and passive at the same time with " regard to each of the individuals which " compose it ; it is capable of receiving and " of keeping all that individual activity gives " it, and itself gives to each all that it has " received and kept. With all possible scope " to the imagination, one cannot conceive a " cause more proper for eflecting progress — " a mechanism, if we may be pardoned the " term, more favourable to the phenomena of " progression." nSee Buchez: Science dc I'llistoirc, vol. i. page 1G3, 2iid ed. POLITICAL PROGRESS. C9 It is manifest, then, from its very anato- mical construction, that society was destined to progress — to increase its well-being. For where an instinct and a power for developing, or creating an endless series of new facts, works together with a power of preserving them to infinity — accumulation, increase, and, as we shall presently see, progress, are the necessary result. And since society is formed for, and has a distinct mechanism for progression, no doubt it is intended by an Omnipotent will — destined to pro- gress. Not but that by counteracting in- fluences and circumstances, in some places and at some epochs, and among certain races, such a process may and will be impeded, and even the reverse one must take place. For, somehow or other, the vital prin- ciple of society seems to fall unequally on people as on individuals, and is liable to the same maladies and corruption. And not but that even universal society may be retarded, and even at some periods may retrograde by the influences of counter- tendencies. But on the whole, on an 70 POLITICAL PROGRESS. average struck upon the course of time, it will and must progress. As a fact, too, it has progTessed. Point out the grandeur of the Assp'ian, Persian, and Mexican empires as we will; credit the Chinese, the Indian and Egyptian hierarchies with what amount of science and knowledge we may ; admire the elegance of the social life of the Greeks, and the wonderful excellence of the administrative organization of the Roman empire — it is not to be denied, that modern society can cap these great epochs of ancient civilization, and each, too, in its o^vn excellence.** And if progress has been a continuous fact through the whole course of time till now, no doubt it will be continuous still, and again society is destined to progress. But what is progress ? It may be a false method to enter on an idea by an expla- nation of the word which expresses it. For, since words are but the expressions of ideas, to expound the idea by explaining the word, is but to explain the original by a descrip- ° Sec Note 0, in the Appendix. . POLITICAL TROGRESS. 71 tion of the symbol. But knowledge developes itself faster than language. As said by M. Guizot, man does not coin a fresh word for every new idea that presents itself, but( hangs the new thought upon some old word. Thus, in course of time, a word gets to bear a variety of meanings, and a number of ideas are comprehended under it. And this is one reason why an explana- tion of terms commences so many scientific investigations. But tliere is also another reason why the entry upon scientific inquiry so often is preluded by an examination of words. The accumulation of the meanings of a word only takes place in proportion to the additions which accrue to knowledge. The developement of a word, and of the ideas it represents, occurs relatively and simulta- neously. So that, with all the apparent con- fusion of the various meanings of terms, there is, in reality, a certain order and scien- tific arrangement in them. The history of a word becomes the historv of the ideas, of the knowledge it represents ; the inquiry into, and the analysing of the word — an inquiry 72 POLITICAL PROGRESS. into the facts it describes ; and the full com- prehension of the term, a comprehension of the knowledge which suiTounds it. Thus, an investigation of the meaning of a word, and a history of its formation, is one of the simplest and most natural ways of enter- ing upon the knowledge of the facts it expresses. The primary sense — the root of the mean- ing of the word progress, was simply that of moving forwai*d. But in order to constitute a moving forward, reference was necessai'ily had to some place of starting or moving from. And in this progress or progression differed from simple motion, for that implied movement without reference to direction or distance. Progi'ess, then, even in its most normal sense, meant something more than advancing — not only motion, but a series of movements taken in consideration accumula- tively, each one with all the rest : for if the starting point, and all previous movements of the same thing to the same end, be left out of calculation, no idea of progress can be realised. Then, in its first, and in its most POLITICAL PROGRESS. 73 primary sense, progress was gradual increase at first of distance. And as increase was the first, so it has remained the last — the fundamental idea of all the meaninsfs which have since been heaped upon it. Not but that there are other results of its operation, other essential qualities in its composition, and other conditions of its existence. First of all, it is an active principle — progress does not consist in the mere fact of increase or cumulation taking place alone. For that may be effected by mere deposit, by the result of forces residing without itself. For a thing to have progressed, it must itself have effected an increase by its own energies. The progress of a nation in political institu- tions, does not consist in the mere fact of increase of the amount or the quality of its law, unless that increase emanated from, grew out of itself — was the result of its own aspirations, of its own energies. It is not necessary that all new laws should come immediately from the people itself. A community declares itself — expresses its H •cr 74 POLITICAL PROGRESS. wants — not unfrequently hy the voice of one or a few individuals, who, while they seem its rulers, are, in reality, its mere spokesmen. But laws really imposed by a foreign power, and so not emanating from the community to be governed — as the laws which Austria gives to Lombardy, and many of those which England has given to Ireland — though they be good for it, can never be said to be the result of, to constitute a pro- gress by such a people in legislation ; or, that such a people had so much progressed in that science. As soon as it has adopted and absorbed such new laws, and used them as the plant for working others on them, the process of progress commences. All in- crease, progress and developement, in any- thing, must be the result of its own ener- gies — of its own aspirations — and so contain witliin itself the hopes, the powers, and the guarantees of further progress. Again, progress implies the compound J interest movement : the increase that is i^rounded on, that emanates from, a previous increase, and that, naturally and necessarily. POLITICAL PllOGRESS. 75 begets another, which, added to the previous increase, is used as a generative power for other such increasings, and so on, ad in- Jinitum. "■ Thus, in arithmetic," says M. Buchez, " they give the word progression to a series " of terms, of which each surpasses that " which precedes it, or is surpassed by it, so " as to present an agreement of increase or " decrease, in which each of the middle " terms finds itself to be a necessary inter- " mediate between that which precedes it •' and that which follows it. Thus, the " course of Numbers 5, 7, 9, 11, constitutes " an increasing series, in which each sur- " passes that which precedes, and in which, " also, each of the two middle ciphers forms *' the necessary transition between the " number which precedes it and that which " comes after it." * * « No example is " more applicable, to give a clear notion of " what one must understand by the idea of " progress applied to social facts. One under- " stands by that, that those facts, arranged " by their order of dates, offer among each 76 POLITICAL PROGRESS. " other a similarity of increase, in which each appears as a means of necessary " transition between that which precedes it ^' and that which follows, so as to form a progressive increase. So that when, in studying a human or social fact, we pro- " nounce that humanity has been progres- sive in such matters, one must understand " that, by a course of succession of labour " and of efforts, there have been on the given subject a series of acquisitions, " which have been in some measure en- " grafted one upon the other, which have " each time added to the power and well- being of mankind."P Again, a condition of all progress is, that the things that are said to progress sub- ( stantially remain the same. Not entirely, but almost so. Not but that any amoimt of change may not be effected by progress, by ~^ extension, expansion, developement. But it must all be by the operation of the same I' Buclioz: Science (Ir I'llistoiro, vol. i. p. 147, '2n(l ed. The reader will find in the lirst part of tiiis work some very profound remarks on progress. POLITICAL PEOGRESS. 77 principle — by the same means to the same end, from the same point — and especially also by degrees, so that at no one time does the process of substitution take place. And when a system of progressing has been going on for a time, no doubt but little of what actually existed when first it com- menced, remains; though all owes its origin, is indebted for its existence, to what so first existed, developed by the principle of pro- gress. But at no one time has the thing been so acted on as to amount to a substi- tution of one matter for another ; and at no time must there have been a change of principle — of the end in view — or of the means employed, or of the line first struck. Such a state of things would amount to a change in its absolute sense — to alteration, not progress : and not only in words, but in ideas, there would be a substantial dis- tinction. The one process leaves the thing- operated upon the same, except in tliis — that it is plus a little, but still an absolute improvement; the other leaves it funda- h2 78 POLITICAL PROGRESS. mentally altered, but not, therefore, necessa- rily improved. But whatever may he the several other properties, conditions, constituent principles of progTess, it is clear that the first, the fundamental one of all, is, that of gradual, progressive increase, in which each addition begets another. Not increase of quantity alone ; the notion of increase of quality is also, no doubt, necessary to complete it. For a man to progress in wisdom, or in learaing, implies not only an increase of the amount of wisdom, or the amount of knowledge, but also of the sort of know- ledge. The gi'adual formation of an acquaintance with a quantity of little unim- portant facts, would not, of itself, constitute a progress in knowledge. Nor could the institutions of a people be said to progress by a mere increase of the amount of laws, without reference to their fitness for the pur- pose they were intended for, or the importance of the object in view, or the extent to which they came up to what was required of them. To constitute a progress, no doubt, the thing POLITICAL PROGRESS. 79 said to progress must effect an increase in quality, as well as in quantity. But, in truth, increase of quality comes as incident to increase of quantity. When we see one thing, of a sort which we have not seen before, we are entirely satisfied with it, but we can form no notion of its quality. But the moment we see other things of the same sort, but different in degrees, in form, in size, in power and fitness for their end, or in some other respects, we begin to judge of their quality ; and in proportion to the number of like things, though chffering in like re- spects we see, our ideas of quality arise, and our notions of perfection as to them are carried up. It is true that the mind, by creating an ideal thing, or a series of ideas, and contrasting these consecutively with the real things, or one with another, works out an idea of perfection of its own. And increase of the quantity of actual, of real things, may, so, be said to be not absolutely necessary to increase of quality. But, whether the con- trast be made between real or ideal, the increase of quality, as dependent on that of 80 POLITICAL PROGRESS. quantity, is still the same. And the contrast wliich is afforded by the comparison of mere ideas, is always faint and ^veak, as ideas themselves are, and so but little productive of the perfectioning power — of the idea of quality. It is even so with things that are to have no practical application, such as works of art. The study of nature — the idea of beauty that arises from a series of con- trasts and comparisons of model forms, fine scenery, and sketches of real Hfe, is always more true and of a higher sort, than that which arises by the imagination working by itself, by one day's dreaming contrasted with another's, and so on. And in things that are to have a practical application, to be of use, subservient to certain purposes, like the laws and institutions of a people, this must be still more the case. The most pro- found statesman, without a knowledge of the worldng or the operation of the previous laws on any given subject, would never frame so jrood an enactment on it as the commonest practical man could, who was acquainted with the existing state of the law on it 3 POLITICAL PROGRESS. 81 where that sufficed and came up to the wants of society, and where it did not. The idea of quahty, then, though it may arise in some degree by the comparison afforded by ideal things, and so is not altogether de- pendent upon the increase of quantity of things, yet the latter is always the surest process, and, for things that are to have a practical application, it is the only one to be rehed on. And not only Is the increase of quality dependent on increase of quantity, but in- crease of quantity, of necessity, begets increase of quality. No two things are exactly alike : some difference in degree, in variety, is always perceptible. We not only learn and are better able to appreciate quality, by seeing a quantity of different things of the same sort, but it is impossible to see them without doing so, without having our ideas of perfection carried up. The vast increase in quantity of laws and of subjects, then, which has been one of the charac- teristic features of modern legislation, must also have necessarily materially improved 82 POLITICAL PROGRESS. its quality ; for this reason, that it has car- ried up our ideas of perfection, and given us a higher notion of what quahty is. And this is not merely theoretically so. No man will deny, that we have become more difficult to please, more particular on the subject of legislation, more imperative in our demand for good laws, and better judges as to what are good, than we were thirty years ago. And few will deny, that this demand and this knowledge ai'C both the necessary result of the gTeat amount of experience in legislation which we have had. Besides, increase of quantity not only begets increase of quality, by operating upon our minds in a way so as to produce, or expand, or enlarge our ideas of quality, but it really produces those very things out of which increase of quality is to be effected. Where the thing produced is not perfect in itself, as is the case with all things produced by the agency of human skill, its perfection is effected by a gradual addition of facts, collected and trans[)osed from surround- ing facts, fitted in and adapted to the POLITICAL PROGRESS. 83 new purposes to which they are appHed. The increase, then, of these surrounding' facts, by enlarging the sources from which that improvement is to be drawn, contri- butes materially, and is absolutely necessary, to the effecting of a progress to perfection on any given matter. For instance, without reference to the quality of modern legis- lation, and without deciding whether, on the whole, it has been good, this much at least may be said of it, that an increased amount of facts have been established by it. The falsity of some preconceived theories, the truths of others — the existence of some facts before supposed to exist, and the non-existence of others — the utility of some measures, and the non-utility of others — the truth of some principles, the fallacy of others — countless facts of this nature, which were only incidental, as it were, have been evolved ; which must, but for the increased activity of modern legislation, have remained unknown. It is manifest, that the increase of the number of these facts, which have acted and are still to act as the component parts of 84 POLITICAL PROGRESS. present and future legislation, must contribute to the increase of the quality of such legislation. Whether good or bad in themselves, or for the purposes to wliich they are now applied, yet as the mere varieties, degrees, different natures, examples, and parallels — as land- marks and sign-posts — as the compounds from which the quality of future legislation is to be formed, and the tests by which it is to be tried, it is manifest that they must and will contribute immensely to the improve- ment of legislation. And for this reason, a new bad law is better than none at all. For even a bad statute is good in this, that it affords a means for framing a good one upon. It is even that bad statute that gave rise to — that formed the necessaiy groundwork for a erood one — that shows us what a good one was or would be. For the defects in any new plan, or a new thing, do not appear till it has been applied ; and our notions of what is good and fit arise from tlie contemn plation of what is bad and unfit. And though, therefore, it be said, that this in- crease of modern legislation has only been POLITICAL PROGRESS. 85 in quantity ; yet that increase lias, necessarily of itself, worked an increase of quality also. And finally, this increase of the quantity and of the quality of our laws, by the activity of modern legislation, has necessarily be- gotten an increase of the quantity of the quality ; or, in other words, the accumulating increase of the number of good laws be- getting an increase of the amount of good laws over the bad ones, has thus improved the general character of legislation, not only by giving more new good laws, but, in so doing, by gradually and silently pushing into the back ground the old and useless ones. And it is thus that the vast improve- ment that has been effected in the institutions of this country, has not been produced so much by repeal of the old and the re-enactment of new laws in their places, as by the deve- lopment of an extensive scheme of laws alto- gether new. No doubt, the former process has been adopted to a considerable extent, but the proportion of its operation to that of the latter is but insignificant. We have seen that all progress in go- I 86 POLITICAL PROGRESS. veriiment lias for its fundamental principle, increase, first of the quantity, and so of the quality of legislation. But what is increase ? Nothing hut the result of the operation and iin- Batisf'iictory, and allords no j;rt»niids sncli as convince us as to llic stale of tlic minds of llie people. I'or, (list, of nil, ])ul)lic nieelinfrs liave no represenliilive ehariu'ter. They can be looked on only 5is lepresentinfj; the opi- nions of persons actually present. There is no e\j)ress or implied dele<;ation from (hose who do not adend to those Nvho do. On the contrary, when all have the power of attendiii};-, and only some do — (he rest must he taken to he dissentient or indillerent - at least, if nothin«j^ appears to (he contrary. And the (piestion as to pnhlic opinion on all political matters, is not what many, or many of the injportant miMnhers, of llu^ com- nnniity or classes think, hut what the mji- jority of the important mend)ers of (he connuunity, or of the ^reat masses of it, thiidi. Supposin*"^, th(>refore, (hat (here hi> what is considered a laii;e dcmonsdiUion of ])uhlic opinion hy ])uhlic meetings, in laxour of any |»articular measure, or of any parti- cular party ; that (ifty nieetinj;s he held lhrouj;hout the country, witii two thousand PUBLIC oriNiox. 145 ])ersons of mixod chisisos piwsont ;it ouch, that does not show what the o})inion of the majority of a nation of twenty mil- Hons is/' The force of any pnblic meeting-, as expressive of tlie public opinion, will be only in the same proportion as that which the number of persons present at it bears to those who had the opportunity ol" attending-, and have not attended. Since they who have the right and power of expressing their opi- nion by attendance at it, and do not do so, must be taken either to be indilferent, that is, really to have no opinion at all about it ; or else to have an opinion dissentient from that for the forwarding of wliich the meeting is held : unless, perhaps, they be [)revented by some extraneous circumstances — but as these meetings are generally held at times most suited to general convenience, this does not often occur. Therefore, if the num- ber of places at which meetings are held in favour of any particular measure, are con- Lord Palniorstoii, in his reply (o tlio Finsbury iloimliilioii, sooms to liavo considereil forty or iH'ty ftddrosses us evidences of public opinion. — See the Times of Nov. !!», 1S5L 146 EVIDENCES OF trastecl with the number of places of equal size and importance, which had the power of holding such meetings, and have had equal reasons for doing so, and at which, neverthe- less, such meetings have not been held ; and if the number of persons of different classes who attend such meetings in each place, are compared with the number of per- sons of similar classes, who had the power of attending, and yet did not attend ; and lastly, if the aggregate number of such meetings, and such persons so attending them, in favour of one set of opinions, is struck off, as against a similar number of those of the opposite party — it will not ap- pear that the fact of such meetings having been held, affords much evidence of a majo- rity of the community being in favour of the views advocated at them. It would almost seem to imply that such views are those of a small minority. But however defective, the evidence afforded by meetings of the state of public opinion, for some purposes is conclusive. For, suppo- sing that the public have a right to express PUBLIC OPINION. 147 their opinion, or, whether they have or have not, that pubHc opinion does command atten- tion from those in power, and if, on any ques- tion on which it is entitled to be heard, one small portion of the community choose to speak, andall therest, from indifference, orfrom reliance on others, or from mere idleness, re- main silent and view the demonstration of the others, their adversaries, perhaps, without any demonstration or counter movement, those who do speak out, even though they be a minority, will and must be heard, and may fairly be taken as the majority. For those who have to judge of public opinion, and to some ex- tent, perhaps, to guide their conduct by it, and with whom it alwavs has weight and consideration, have no means of estimating which way it inclines, except by some open demonstration of it, by meetings, or by peti- tions, or otherwise. And those who neglect to manifest their opinion, or who are impas- sive enough to have no opinion at all, must be content to see the opinions of those who have, and do demonstrate them, triumph. It is as if some thirty millions of people 148 EVIDENCES OF have a vote each, but only fifty thousand of those more fervent and strenuous than the rest, take the trouble to avail themselves of their privilege, all the rest are manifestly fairly bound by that vote. And the opinion of the small minority, thus, for practical purposes, becomes justly the opinion of the majority, whether it be so in point of fact or not. This is what takes place every day in municipal and parliamentary elections. And it is astonishing how frequently small but energetic minorities do thus impress their opinions on the majority, — how a few noisy meetings, held in some populous town or large agricultural district, where certain interests and opinions prevail, are taken for, and entitle themselves to pass, as the expres- sion of public opinion. Even a great party not unfrequently allows its rival to usurp and assume the whole force of public opinion as being in its favour — permits it, by a one- sided demonstration, to make itself out as all — when, if ordinary exertion had been used in a counter-demonstration, a veiy different effect miglit have been produced. It is the PUBLIC OPINION. 149 fiiiilt of most men in power, and of all legis- lators and politicians of a higher hearing, that they let oppositions and popular par- ties assume, as it were par excellence, the credit of having public opinion on their side, — allow them to declare and even make it appear as if they alone had, and were entitled to have the people in their favour. A notable instance of the neglect of a great party to develop and give due expression to that amount of opinion which was necessarily in its favour, occurred in the case of the Protectionists, in 1844 and 1846. Confident in their position, they suffered the Anti-Corn Law League and Free Traders to announce and claim public opinion as entirely in their favour ; and, what is more, by the prodigious number and respectability of the meetings and petitions which were got up, and of the names which were enrolled by them, allowed it to appear so. Not the least doubt the whole while, but that the agricultural interest, rich and poor, and those who depended on it, who form, after all, the great mass of the population, were opposed to the free admis- 2 150 EVIDENCES OF sion of foreign com. And thus their cause grew weak, not only or so much from want of truth as, from the want of a sufficient ma- nifestation of the pubhc opinion that existed in favour of it ; for the uUimate decision of a gi'eat question of rival interests like that, never was and never will be determined on the mere abstract truth only, purely as a question of right and wrong, wise or unwise. No doubt, Sh Robert Peel and his friends, in 1846, acted according to what they thought just and right. But cautious prudence is also an ingredient in all political changes, especially those which interfere with the material interests of the nation. And ii there had been the same powerful demon- stration of the opinion of the Agricultural classes against the repeal of the Corn Laws, as there was of the Manufacturing interest for it, or even the same amount of demon- stration by the Agricultural interest that has since been displayed, it is questionable whether the Corn Laws had been now re- pealed. Ultimately, they might have been, but not so suddenly as they were. And, at PUBLIC OPINION. 151 least, the question would have heen decided more on its own merits, and with less appear- ance of that compliance with agitation, which somehow or other did rise to view, though perhaps it had no real existence. Petitions to parliament and the Crown are another means of manifesting public opi- nion. And they stand on the same footing as popular meetings, in this respect ; that they, too, are really only evidence of the opinion of the petitioners, not of the community at large. But the opinion of the petitioners becomes that of the public at large, and fairly so, if their effect is not counteracted. Another accepted evidence of the state of public opinion, is our own observation and experience as individuals — the opinions and feelings which we hear and see manifested abroad, in society, at the clubs, the haunts of business and of pleasure. It is clear that any means of testing public opinion, to be adequate, must have a range of operation as wide and extensive as the public, the people, itself is. They must be able to command information as to the state of feeling, and 152 EVIDENCES OF opinion, of all the orders, classes, interests, and parties of the nation, on the given ques- tion on which public opinion is said to exist. And no individual has, or can have, centi'ed in his own person such powers. However extensive, various, and diffuse his relations with society may be, they must necessarily be incapable of placing him in immediate relation with society in all its bearings — with the public, such as it really is. That is, a tiling neither high nor low, rich nor poor, master nor workman, aristocratic nor com- moner, manufacturer nor agriculturist — but all. And the man who will test the opinion of the public, must be all these, too. If he belong to the aristocracy, he has no connec- tions, no relations, that will enable him to ascertain, by his own personal experience, the stale of feeling in Manchester, and the ma- nufacturing cities ; and the one without the other is not public opinion. 80, neither have those of the manufacturing districts any means of ascertaining the state of public opinion, such as it is in the clubs in London, and in the agricultural towns and districts. PUBLIC OPINION. 153 Each takes the opmion of that class, or lo- cahty, or order with which he is connected, for that of the whole. Every day, we see men of family and position mistaking the feelings and opinions of their class for that cf the commmiity, and the manufacturing interests mistaking their views and the in- terests to which they belong, for the whole people's, forgetting that the agricultural in terest, in number and in wealth, is of such immense importance. It is impossible, from the boundless range of society, and the infi- nite number of parties, interests and classes, into which it is split up, and to some one of which we all, by force of circumstances, or by private prejudice, belong; it is im- possible for any, or at best for more than some very few of us, by our own personal experience, to judge what is the real opi- nion of the one great people on any given question. Another means by which public opinion is presumed to manifest itself, is the press. The press may be said to represent public opinion in several senses. First, taking the 154 EVIDENCES OF word in the collective meaning, as comprising all the leading journals of the day; since each political party, and particular interest, has a portion of the press devoted to its in- terest, which sets forth its views and advo- cates its cause, all public opinion, or rather all the opinions of the public, are somehow represented in it. But this is not the only, or the common way, in which the press is supposed to express public opinion. A single journal frequently assumes the charac- ter of being the representative of the wants, desires, discontents, and approbations, not only of its own readers, or its own party, as to some particular measure, but of those of the whole community. And where two or three journals happen to coincide in their views on some point, they generally collec- tively assume this character. But it is diffi- cult to see what relation exists between a journal and its readers, that can render it the representative, that is the delegate, of the opinion of even those readers, much less of the whole community. No communication takes place from the readers to the journal. PUBLIC OPINION. 155 From the journal to the readers there does, for it speaks to them, argues with them, advises them, and excites them. And so the readers represent, and that, no doubt, to a great extent, the opinion of the press, espe- cially that part of the readers who have not sufficient education, intellect, and force of character, to form opinions of their own. But the converse is not true — and it is impossible for one body of persons to represent anor ther, without having a delegated authority from them to do so. It is difficult, then, to see what authority the Press holds from their readers or the public, to represent them. For the press to assume that they have the right to use the name of the public, because they believe that they advocate the cause of the public, or what they believe to be its cause, would be as if one were to forge the name of another without authority, and merely because he believed in so doing he consulted that party's interest. There is another sense in which the press is supposed to be the means of the expression of public opinion ; and that is, not as its repre- 156 EVIDENCES OF sentative, in a strict sense, as having any real authority to do so, hut as the interpreter of it; as a body of intellectual men, who make it their business to study it, to ascertain on which side of the great questions of the day it pronounces itself, and to declare the result of that inquiry. And this claim is, no doubt, well founded. — The opinion of the Press, as to the state of public opinion, is always entitled to consideration, on the fundamental maxim that regulates all such matters, cuique in sua arte credendum est. But it is only as an opinion — We must not confound the press in its character of the interpreter of public opinion, and the representative of it. When a man delivers an opinion as that of a third person, which, as the opinion of such third person, weighs heavily, or is conclusive upon us, it is the same as if such third party spoke, if the party so delivering the opinion had authority to do so. But when he delivers that opinion as a mere interpreter, as one who, like ourselves, has studied the character, the course of dealing, and the ge- neral sentiments of such third party — and has. PUBLIC OPINION. 157 as he conceives, discovered what the senti- ments of such third party are, as to some par- ticular fact, what he says in this character is not binding on us — it is not the opinion of such person — it may or may not be — but, as it stands, it is not. And this is really the position which the press stands in, as the interpreter of public opinion. When one or two of the leading' journals of the day declare that public opinion has pronounced itself in favour of such a measure, or against such a ministry, the fact may be so, or it may not ; but, for all that appears through the opinion of the press, it is not. And it does not appear, that public opinion manifests itself to the press more than to any other part of the community, or that the individual members composing it have much greater facility of ascertaining what public opinion is, than other gentle- uicii. Some of the more important mem- bers of it have seats in the Lower House — and frequent the clubs and other haunts where opinion is formed and displays itself. And another portion of the press make it their profession to attend public meetings. But p 158 EVIDENCES OF these means of judging of, or ascertaining public opinion, are not confined to them alone. And, if the press has any par- ticular faciHties of obtaining information as to the state of the pubHc mind, it does not keep that information to itself. All those facts which form the ground-work of its judg- ment — popular meetings, political excite- ments, discontents — are published forthwith, and the readers have the same means of form- ing an opinion as the journals themselves. A sufficient proof that the press has no better means of ascertaining what is public opinion than other people, is, that they are them- selves incessantly disagreeing as to what is the state of public opinion, and all are fre- quently mistaken. On the movement of any great political question, on which opinions run high, each of the journals seldom fails to pronounce public opinion to be in favour of that view which it advocates, and to deny the claims of its rivals. The real importance of the press, with respect to public opinion, is, the power which it has in the formation of it. And it is from PUBLIC OPINION. 159 confounding its real character in this respect, with that of it as the representative of public opinion, that some confusion has arisen. In giving publicity to those facts which concern the public, the press performs an immense part in the formation of its opinion. A knowledge of facts, and a knowledge of them precisely and consentaneously in the same form, and at the same time, is a neces- sary condition to the formation of all opinion by a body of men as such, and not as so many individuals. x\nd it is impossible to conceive any adequate means for putting the whole of such a vast community as ours pro- perly and thoroughly in possession of the passing events of the day, so rapidly, so simultaneously, and so precisely in the same form, as to afford a proper basis for the formation of an opinion by the whole com- munity, like that which the press affords. The only substitute would be, the trans- mission of information by word of mouth — by common report. One perceives at once, and we know by experience, how vague and uncertain, and how incessantly at 160 EVIDENCES OF fault and liable to mislead, that is ; and, ex- cept in large communities, and to those who live abroad in them, how slow it is in tra^el- ling. The best proof of the power which the publication of facts by the press has in the formation of public opinion, is the care which those who fear public opinion take to suppress it, and the way in which public opinion ceases to operate the moment the publicity of facts is interrupted. Another vast power which the press exer- cises in the formation of opinion, is, that which it holds as a teacher, as an instructor, and adviser. The influence of the press, in forming public opinion on general topics, by this means is immense. Whenever the sub- ject matter of opinion is new, and does not touch any of the existing prejudices of society, its religion, or political principles, and two or three of the leading journals agree in the view they take of it, they may, in fact, be said to make up the mind of the public upon it. The generaHty of readers either want the time, the capacity, or the industry for forming opinions of their own, PUBLIC OPINION. 101 on difficult questions of fact, or abstruse points of reasoning-, and gradually become the pas- sive recipients of what they read, so lon<^ as that does not militate against pre- existing opinions. This is a thing we see in daily occurrence. On the birth of any new topic of public interest, every one asks what the papers say ? We continually see a man, imperceptibly to himself, using the arguments and the course of thinking of his Daily newspaper. And with this power of forming public opinion, the press may be said to represent it, in some sense. The opinions of its readers, no doubt, mostly coincide with its own, and in advocating or speaking those, it advocates and speaks theirs. But this kind of representation only occurs in matters which do not touch the community in any existing prejudices or belief. The minds of its readers, on all topics of religious be- lief, political principle, or material interest, are pre-engaged, and are no longer the easy recipients of what they read — they judge and think for themselves. The press, too, on these questions, becomes divided in p2 1(32 EVIDENCES OF opinion; its force ranges itself on opposite sides, and so is counteracted. No part of it is then any longer entitled to assume to itself the character of being the interpreter of the opinion of the whole community. Though each portion may, and so frequently does, claim to be the representative of the ma- jority of numbers, or the majority of in- tellect, each is incapable of substantiating its claim. In no way, then, can the opinion of the public, or the majority of it, be it of in- tellect or number, be strictly said to be repre- sented by, or to manifest itself through, the press. The opinion of each particular party may, no doubt, be found in, and is represented by, certain papers particularly devoted to it ; but in no paper that of all, or of the majo- rity. All political opinions are represented there, but not the political opinions of the all, or of a majority of the all. And, though the press is a vast power for the formation of opi- nion, it does not stand for much in the ascertaining or manifestation of it. The fullest means which we have of testing PUBLIC OPINION. 103 the opinion of the people on any given ques- tion, the best proof of it, is that which a General Election affords. The constituency is not co-extensive with the community, and therefore the opinion of the constituency can- not strictly be said to be that of the whole country. Yet, the constituency is so far ex- tensive, and all classes, and interests, and all orders, are so represented and included in it, that, probably, the opinion of the constituency is a fair representation of that of the commu- nity. And, under certain circumstances, a Ge- neral Election affords evidence, not only con- clusive on us for practical purposes, but such as binds and satisfies our reason, and carries conviction as well as conclusion with it. This is especially the case when a General Election takes places in the face of some great political question, or principle, as it did on the Reform Bill and the Corn Laws, or, what still more frequently happens, upon some great political party or line of policy. No doubt, in an appeal to the country, sinister influences are used to a great extent for preventing the due manifes- 164 EVIDENCES OF tation of the wishes of the constituency. But these ahvays operate on one side as well as the other, and the Liberal party have es- pecially signalized themselves in this respect, of late. Their effect thus becomes nullified, and the right influences have their sway. That a General Election affords, on the whole, a fair means of testing the opinion of the people, is to be seen in this, that all parties take it as such. All are ready to appeal by a General Election to the public, when they believe it is with them, and they want its support — and, on the other hand, all refuse to appeal to it, when they believe the public to be against them. Sir Robert Peel ac- knowledged that the opinion of the English was opposed to Catholic Emancipation. Yet, when he thought that it ought to be carried, he refused to take the opinion of the constitu- ency on it, though so many of his own party, and ihe importance of the subject, demanded it. JSo with the Corn Laws. His refusal of the demand of the Protectionists for a dissolution of parliament, which, on a question so pro- foundly alfecting the material interests of the PUBLIC OPINION. 165 agricultural population, seemed but fair, looked very much as though he feared the manifestation of the opinion of that body, through the country towns and counties, though other causes operated on him in com- ing to that resolution. And on each occasion, the opposition party, believing that the pub- lic was with them, demanded a dissohition. All then, who believe the community, or a majority of it, to be of their opinion, de- sire an appeal to be made to the constitu- ency. Not that the opinion of the mere numbers is to be ffot at throuo-h the consti- tuency. As it at present exists, it repre- sents property, and so education and intelli- gence, as well as numbers — though if the measure for Electoral Reform now before the House,^ be carried, numbers will dominate preponderatingly, though not exclusively. But as at present framed, the intelligence as well as the number of the public, are fully represented by the constituency, and if not equally, as equally perhaps as the intellectual state of the number justifies. " February, 1852. 166 PUBLIC OPINION. On the whole, then, the evidences of the state of pubUc opinion in its direct action and open manifestation — except those afforded by a General Election — are somewhat vague and unsatisfactory. Though public opinion exer- cises so great a power, and is made to per- form so great a role in modern politics, it is uncertain in its whereabouts — difficult to be got at, and identified — and till some more effectual means be devised for finding out what really is the opinion of the majority of the community, it were as well, perhaps, that its name were less often used as a data to reason from, a rule to guide by — or as an in- strument of power. CHAPTER VIII. PUBLIC OPINION — AND THE STATE. Another important point as to public opi- nion, is, as to its right to direct and forcible control over the State. And such an inquiry is not so uncalled for, as might at a first impulse seem necessary. The history of this country, for the last two centuries, as we have seen, is too rife with conflicts be- tween these two great powers, and the victo- ries have been too divided, for the right to supremacy to have been set at rest. And, beside these real conflicts that have thus arisen, and the real power which public opi- nion, acting directly, has truly exercised — the claims to control the state which are, and have been incessantly set up in the name 168 PUBLIC OPINION, and on behalf of the pubHc, by small fractions of it — and the violence and authoritative tone in which these are brought forward, render such an inquiry even more necessary than truth, perhaps, requires. Not that such claims are well-grounded. — In reality, and in point of fact, the people very seldom has exhibited, or does exhibit, any direct adverse interference with the legislature and the government. Its name is incessantly being forged. An assump- tion of its authority is incessantly being made by disappointed factions and am- bitious individuals, to give weight to what they say, and dignity to their systematic oppo- sition to the government. Every one who feels or believes strongly himself, imagines that every one else feels and believes so too, and unjustifiably forges the name of pub- lic opinion to the foot of his creed, to make it respectable in the eyes of others. We incessantly see a few petitions, and a few in- temperate meetings in different parts of the country, and the support of a portion of the press, assumed to be a demonstration of the AND THE STATE. 1 C9 popular will, while, in reality, they are only those of a particular part and small portion of it, who, by their energy and clamour, get themselves to be mistaken for the whole. With all the prodigious intensity of the poli- tical existence of this country during the last two hundred years, as we have already seen, the direct manifestation of public opinion, as a controlling power, has, in fact, seldom occur- red. It must, too, naturally, be a thing of rare occurrence ; for an industrious and well-or- dered population, which feels that its w^ants, its wishes, and desires receive a fair consideration from the state, like an industrious individual, is too much engaged, each member of it, with his own concerns, to be easily taken off by those of the public, except by some great and exciting cause. It always requires a topic of powerful and universal interest to move the public of this country ; for it always costs it an effort to arouse itself, and so demands a great occasion : such an occasion, too, as there cannot be much doubt or opinion upon ; or one, at least, on which there must be an overwhelming majority on one side. Q 170 PUBLIC OPINION', If there be anything hke an equal division of the people upon it, public opinion can- not speak. For there are no means, in an evenly-balanced case, of ascertaining on which side the majority of the votes is. And in a government like oui's, where the public is respected and feared, and so acts in- directly with so much influence, such an oc- casion can and does but seldom occur. If the state has the interest of the people not too much at heart, its contentment and good-will are too much its interest, for it to want controlling often, and on matters so clear as to command a large majority on one side. Besides, public opinion has too many indirect ways of acting upon, or con- straining the government, to render it ne- cessary for it to have recourse to any direct agency upon it. Deeper revolutions have been effected in this country within the last thirty years, by the indirect force of the people, acting on the government, than in France, with all her forcible constraints on it. But, nevertheless, as we have already too clearly seen, from time immemorial, by AND THE STATE. 171 revolutions, and by those more peaceable demonstrations of its will and power, the people has been in the habit, at times, of controlling the state. Not often, but too often for it to be mistaken or to be denied. And not that it has always been successful in its attempts upon the government. On the contrary, public opinion, or that which claimed to be such, has more often been re- jected and refused compliance with, than acquiesced in. The ministries of Sir Robert Peel, 8ir Robert Walpole, Lord Bute, the Duke of Newcastle, Lord North, and Lord Liverpool, all successfully and powerfully repressed its manifestation, and qualified its triumphs. And, even in more recent times, ministers have legislated in spite of it. The opinion of the English, at least, was opposed to Catholic Emancipation, as 8ir Robert Peel himself acknowledged. Against all the earlier measures of Free Trade, as introduced by Mr. Huskisson, there was the strongest manifestation in the manufacturing districts, with little or no counter-demonstration in support of them. The Poor Law was im- 172 PUBLIC OPINION, posed in England, and has been imposed on Ireland, against public opinion. And thus, so far as appears by the facts that are transpiring around us, and by the history of the past, as to the right of public opinion as against the state, or vice versa, nothing is absolute. Public opinion, even in its direct operation, has imposed itself too often upon the state, for its authority, even as founded on right, to be denied. If founded on usurpation, it had but the birth common to all political powers, and, like them, has now by usage become, in some sort and to some extent, sanctified into a right. On the other hand, its power has too often been denied and successfully resisted, and its successes too often qualified by the state, for it to be able to establish a right by custom to a real sovereignty. Who seeks to esta- blish such a right on practices that have been as often resisted and disputed as com- plied with, must fail in common sense, as he would in law. The question then is still open, and thrusts itself too forcibly upon our con- sideration in an inquiry of the sort, and the AND THE STATE. 173 requisition of the facts that are transpiring around us, demand its decision, one way or the other, too imperatively, for us to escape without some clear and definite understanding- as to it. And although all rules, all truths, as to political matters — must always be liable to be qualified by circumstances, there must, nevertheless, for all that, be some rules and truths that are entitled to powerful if not absolute sway. What are the rights, then, of pubhc opinion and the state, respectively, as against each other ? We have before seen, that the will of the people is one fountain of laws and legishition. So, likewise, it is the basis on which all insti- tutions for carrying out those laws, even the state itself, rests. " The only way," says Locke,^ " whereby any one divests himself " of his natural liberty, and puts on the " bonds of civil society, is by agreeing with " other men to join and unite in one com- " munity." And again, " every man being. Civil Government, Chap. VIII. Q 2 174 PUBLIC OPINION, " as he has been born, naturally free, and no- " thing being- able to put him into subjection " to any earthly power, but only his own " consent." " The united strength of in- " dividuals," says Montesquieu/ quoting Gravina, " constitutes what we call the body " politic. The general strength may be in *' the hands of one or many. The strength " of individuals cannot be united without *' a conjunction of all their wills. The con- ** junction of those wills is what we call the " civil state." M. Guizot, in his recent work on the Origin of Representative Govern- ments in Europe, has denied this doctrine, and to which we shall hereafter advert. But assuming for the present, that, in accordance with the doctrines of the jurisprudents, the will and opinion of the people is that from which the state derives its power, the ques- tion arises, how far the people has delegated its authority to the state, and so, how far it is precluded from interfering in matters which lie witliin its particular jurisdiction. * Montesquieu, Esprit des Lois. Lib. I. Cap. 3. AND THE STATE. 175 Has the sovereignty of power passed to the law and to the state, or does it still remain in the people. The right of public opinion, of the public will, as against the state, depends materially on these points. " However they began," that is governments, says Blackstone,'' " or by what right soever *' they subsist, there is and must be in all of " them a supreme, irresistible, absolute, un- *• controlled authority, in which the jura " summi imperii, or the rights of sovereignty, " exist By the sovereignty, " as was before observed, is meant the " making of laws, for wherever that power " resides, all others must conform to, and be " directed by it, whatever appearance, or " outward form and administration, the go- " vernment may put on." And again, after describing the government of this country, as residing with the Crown, Lords and Commons, he says, " Here then is lodged " the sovereignty of the British constitution." So Montesquieu says : " When the people is h Introduction to Blackstone's Commentaries, Sect. 2. 176 PUBLIC OPINION, " possessed of the supreme power, this is " called a democracy. When the supreme " power is lodged in the hands of a part of " the people, it is then an aristocracy."' According to these authorities, it would ap- pear that the sovereignty of the state is above the sovereignty of the people — that the people has entirely delegated its power to the state. The question depends a good deal on this, whether the state is the officer, or the mere agent or servant of the people. The great difference between an officer, and a mere agent or servant, is this, that the former, when once appointed, is bound to act, not according to the will and wishes of the per- son who appoints him, but according to the course of the law, the custom and practice of his office, and his own discretion -, whilst the latter must act according to the will and wishes of him that appoints. The character, the duties, and the course of dealing adopted by long-established custom, pre- cludes the idea of the state in tliis country Montesquieu, Esqiil dos Lois. Lib. 2. Cap. 2. AND THE STATE. 177 being viewed in this latter capacity. It is the officer of the pubhc, not its mere agent and servant. The state acts according to law and established practice, and not the will — the wishes of the public. No doubt, but that the opinion and wishes of the people exercise an immense indirect influence on its opera- tions, and sometimes a direct one. But the former fact is quite consistent with the right of the government to act according to law and custom, and its own discretion ; and the latter forms the exception, not the rule. To hold that the state were the mere servant of the public, were, as elsewhere observed, to say, that the government of this country was an anarchy. For whether there be no government at all, or there be one that is the mere blind agent or conduit pipe, for carrying out the will of the people, is the ■same thing. And every reason that holds for the appointment of a regular government, holds against the direct and forcible rule of public opinion. The point of contention is, sovereignty of power — the right of the state and public 178 PUBLIC OPINION, opinion to dominate. All claims to power must mainly depend upon the qualification and capacities, and the guarantees given, for the proper use of them. No doubt, the people, like an individual, has some right to govern itself, irrespective of all question as to its ability to do so. Rights do not depend upon, are not entirely co-extensive with, the power to use them properly. But we never can escape from this, that power, even as founded on right, unless used with an adequate wisdom, becomes worse than ut- ter inability, almost ceases to have right. Power may have a right to work its own destruction, if it will, in one sense, and as it frequently does ; but it seems difficult to hold that it has a right to do so, in all senses, as it were impossible to stand by and see such a right acted on. It is difficult, then, to hold that the public, or any thing, has a right to power, irrespective of all consideration as to how it will be used. The right of a people to govern itself must, to some extent, be limited by its power to do so properly. And the people holds no such right as self-rule, AND THE STATE. 17^ irrespective of all considerations as to its capacity for using it. 'J'he best proof of this is, that neither the people itself, nor any one on behalf of it, ever yet dared to justify its decisions, political opinions, judgment, and acts, merely on its right so to decide, adjudge, and act, without fiu-ther endeavour- ing to show that those opinions and acts were grounded on justice and wisdom. All, then, admit, that the extent of the rights of a people to self-control, by the expression of its opinion or otherwise, is to some extent conditioned on — co-extensive with the extent of its capacities for so doing properly. Although, then, we admit the right of public opinion to be a right paramount, and clearly above that of the state as a mere right, it is still impossible, in deciding be- tween its claims and those of the state to sovereignty of power, to avoid the question. Which, of the two, is most likely to use that power with most justice, ability, and wisdom? And more than that, — it will, in point of fact, be practically impossible to avoid awarding the right of supremacy to that 180 PUBLIC OPINION, which is most Hkely to use it best, in spite of all consideration as to with whom the pure right lies. Not only does power, somehow or other, fall into the hands of those most ca- pable of it, but men are always most willing to see it and place it there. However much we may respect public or private right, no one ever did, or ever will, patiently see power in the hands of an imbecile or madman. And whether it be in the hands of a man, or a multitude, if they be imprudent and weak, it is the same thing. This is the explanation of so many problems in history. The reason why the Romans, under the early emperors, the Florentines under Medici, the English under Cromwell, the French under Napo- leon, and now again under his nephew, so easily yielded up their rights and liberties, was, that the government — the sovereignty of the people, though founded on right, had grown so thoroughly contemptible, even in the eye of the people itself, that it gave up all rights for the greater repose, stabiUty, justice, and wisdom which despotism offered. It was avowedly so in France on both occasions, and AND THE STATE. 181 was, in fact, what took place at all those other great epochs. Whether, then, the state or public opinion is most entitled to dominate, and when they clash, as they so frequently do, which is to prevail, depends on this question : Which is likely to use the sovereignty of power with most wisdom and integrity ? What the value and force of public opi- nion is, as a test of truth — how far the fact of its declaring, or manifesting itself, for or against a given measure, is evidence of that measure being accordingly wise or un- wise, is an all-important point as to it. How- ever much we may respect public opinion as a power and a right, even as such, it is only a means to an end. And since the great end of all political rights and powers, is the secur- ing a thorough and impartial search for, and carrying out of, what is most wise and most just, and so, what is most for the interest of all, the guaging the value of any political power, will best be made by estimating the extent to which it effects these objects. Opinion implies judgment, and for the R 182 PUBLIC OPINION, formation of it three things are necessaiy — capacity — a general knowledge and acquaint- ance with the subject to which the particular matter belongs — and, lastly, a knowledge of the special facts of the particular matter itself. The worth which we set upon any function for the ascertainment of truth, must depend, in a great measure, upon the extent to which we believe it to be possessed of these two qualities. Taking public opinion as the opinion of the majority of ordinai-y individuals, which com- pose the community, it seems difficult to say that the people of this country has that know- ledge of political economy, constitutional law, politics — in one of which sciences, each great question of the day imbeds itself — or that knowledge of the specific facts, on which the merits of each question turns, in such a de- gree as to enable them to form an opinion upon it, that shah command respect, as an evidence of, or as a test of the truth in it. The opinion of any person, or any body of men, on a question, the points of which must be searched for by a knowledge of law, or of poli- AND TUE STATE. 183 tical economy, or of general politics, will stand for nothing, unless we believe that such in- dividual, or such body of men, has a general acquaintance with that science, and is pos- sessed of a knowledge of those specific facts on which the point turns, and by which it is surrounded. It is difficult, after all, to estimate at much the opinion of the mem- bers of a large agricultural population, on the question of Corn Laws, on the re-adjustment of the burdens upon land, or on direct taxa- tion — at least as a test of truth. They would feel acutely, express themselves strongly upon protection, and be able to repeat all the com- mon-place arguments in favour of it, and, pro- bably, be able to explode some of those used in support of Free Trade. And their opi- nions and their feelings would be entitled to command the greatest respect from those who had to decide the question, as those of an immense mass of the people, whose in- terest was so seriously at stake and in jeopardy in it. But it is manifest that the truth of the principles of Free Trade, the relief of burdens upon land, and of direct taxation, is 184 PUBLIC OPINION, only to be found by a deep analysis of facts, a series of careful and delicate inductions of reasoning, all to be summed up at last by the widest and broadest views, obtainable only by a thorough knowledge of economi- cal and political science. And it is impossible, to put much estimate on the opinion of a country community on such points, since it is clear they want the powers for forming one properly. The opinion of such a body would be conclusive upon us, on all matters relative to practical agriculture. And the reason would be, that with such matters they were conversant, — of them they had ex- perience, and acqaintance with all the know- ledge and facts upon which they tm'ned and rested, and because the truth in such matters lay upon tlie surface, and within the range of their intellects. And, by parity of reasoning, their opinion on great political questions would be worth nothing, because of these they were ignorant, — both of the specific facts they rested upon, and the science by which they were to be understood — and be- cause a course of reasoning would be AND THE STATE. 185 required, which was beyond the powers of their minds to follow out. And so with the manufacturing classes, and small traders. With all the intelligence that is claimed for the masses in the towns, it is really difficult to believe that they are competent judges of political questions, or that their opinions on them command much respect. What would be the value, as a test ol' truth, as a gauge to fix our opinions by, of the opinion of an enlightened great town or manufacturing district, upon any question of law, metaphysics, or divinity, involving the necessary consideration of a complicated mass of facts, the due appreciation of an in- finite variety of delicately-drawn arguments, and necessarily requiring an acquaintance with all the surrounding science, — all the acquired knowledge on the matter ? And all the great political questions of the day come up to this in difficulty. Every one, some how or other, considers himself entitled to talk, and have very absolute opinions on all political matters. But no one will in reality deny, that they are all, especially those which r2 186 PUBLIC OPINION, touch the material interests of society, of a profound difficulty, and demand a wide range of mind, an extensive scientific know- ledge, and a thorough acquaintance of all the details on which they arise. No doubt, but that the manufacturing masses of the community, have a general Knowledge of the matters of fact, and of the arguments bearing on the great questions of the day, and some capacity for deducing an opinion from them, the same as the better sort of agriculturists have. No doubt, that by means of the press, and especially the publication of the debates in the legislature, by which all the arguments for and against a question appear, and by the general communication of ideas that passes between man and man, know- ledge is scattered through all classes, and is placed within the reach of all those who have the mind to inquire into the subject. But these advantages are only used by the bet- ter, and so by the smaller portion of the masses. Even these assistances for the for- mation of opinion, cannot be said to accrue to the great mass of the agricultui'al or manu- AND THE STATE. 187 facturing population ; whilst public opinion is essentially the opinion of all. And where they do exist, they are insufficient. A judg- ment formed on such grounds, may be suffi- cient to satisfy the individual himself who forms it, and to justify his voting upon it, and may be binding on him — but it requires something more to make it satisfactory to others, to make it binding on them. A judgment on a profound political question, to command the respect of others, must have been formed in full view of all the statistical, economical, and political facts connected with the matter, by a mind cognizant of such matters, and capable, by custom and habit, of dealing with them. No one will say that the ordinary individuals composing the mass of the public, or the mass itself, is possessed of these capacities. And if it be said that public opinion does not really mean the opinion of the public, but only the opinion of the intelligent and intellectual classes, of those capable of form- ing an opinion, this may be true. But then there is an end of public opinion, in the 188 PUBLIC OPINION, sense in which the word is received. By that is impHed the opinion of the whole community, not of a part of it. Whenever pubUc opinion is invoked, whenever it is supposed to manifest itself, it is always as that of the people ; strictly speaking, as that of all classes, of all members of the commu- nity comprized in one — not of one class out of all. In all petitions, public meetings, all expressions and manifestations of discon- tent or approbation, there is neither aristo- cracy of talent nor of rank allowed. Every one signs, every one goes. One voice or sig- nature is as good as another. As a member of the community, one of the public is like a member of the constituency, equal as such to every other member of it, pauper or peer. One voice, like one vote, is as good as another. It is essentially in the name of all and by all, that everything is done, and from that it derives its force. But, taking public opinion as the opinion of the intellectual classes only — of the Clubs, and haunts of business, in the great cities, — of markets in the county towns, — of the press, AND THE STATE. 189 and of those bodies of men more practically acquainted with the particular matters — even in this sense it is open to all the same ob- jections, both as to the evidence of it, and, when that is satisfactory, as to its real worth as a test of truth. For though the better classes of society be capable of forming opi- nions on political matters of the day, yet un- less their powers be adequately used, and each man individually, or all in the mass, go through the evidence of the matter on which the opinion is to be formed — patiently, dis- passionately, and laboriously weigh the ar- guments adduced on both sides the ques- tion, and then arrive at something entitled to be called a judgment, it is difficult to see of what value their opinion is, so as to con- clude, or be binding on others. The opi- nion of the Reform or of the Conservative Club, of the Stock Exchange at London or Liverpool, may be sufficient to guide our own by, on the common topics of the day — those that do not require deep investigation — the truth of which lies upon the surface ; but not those wliich demand investigation and consideration. 190 PUBLIC OPINION, And there are other points by which pub- lic opinion, taken even as the opinion of the intelligent classes, seems to be very much qualified in its force, as an authority for deter- mining the truth of a question by. Ignorance is not the only bar to the formation of opi- nion. It is necessary — if a judgment would command respect and authority, that the mind of the judge should be free from prejudice — from motive or bias other than that for truth. It is a rule of law, in this and all other countries, that no man can be judge in his own cause. The slightest taint of private interest in the cause, renders his decision void. And it is manifest that this universal principle of law is founded on wis- dom — on too true an estimate of the weak- ness of human nature. The force of self- interest on our judgment, and the power of religious, party, and political prejudice on our minds, are things of too constant occur- rence to be doubted now. And it is impos- sible to conceive of a great public question, on which the people can be dispassionate, and devoid of bias and prejudices. The AND THE STATE. 191 political world is so thoroughly occupied by creeds, dogmas, theories — by party feeling, religious belief, and by the feelings of inte- rest, and of class, that every point of general importance, that by chance or the natural de- velopment of society is thrown up, is at once viewed through some of these false mediums. It soon finds itself forced to seek shelter under the protection of some party, some interest, in order to sustain itself from insignificance. And unless it does thus touch the political world in some of its prejudices, it seldom succeeds in awakening public opinion, or that attention necessary for its existence. By its intrinsic impor- tance, it may command the consideration of those who make legislation and government the subject of their study and observation — of our statesmen, legislators, and the press — but it seldom touches the public. To do that, it must be a thing of passion. The people is a thing so difficult to rouse into activity at all, that it is nothing but a violent effort that awakens it; and such violent efforts are impelled by passion, not by reason. A 192 PUBLIC OPINION, powerful and energetic operation, brought on by mere conviction of truth, is a thing of rare occurrence, only seen in minds of a higher sort. Those induced by passions, feel- ings, and impulse, are of every-day occm-rence. And all those great questions on which the public has, of late and in all other times, be- come excited, have always had that in them which has touched its prejudices, its feel- ings, as well as, if not rather than, its reason. In the Catholic Emancipation, it was religious prejudice. In the Reform Bill, it was, in a great measure, the feelings of class, a sort of revolt of the middle class against the undue influence of the higher classes. It is astonishing how often, in the great excitement on the Reform question, reference was made to the undue influence of the aristocracy. And the Corn Law move- ment was essentially a matter of feeling of material interest between the great rival branches of our national industry, the manu- facturing and agricultural classes. Public opinion does not manifest itself except on some topic that excites the people, something AND THE STATE. 193 that touches its feehngs, prejudices, and pas- sions. And then the pubHc, interested as it is in the result of the cause, infected as it is by motives and bias, is seriously impeded in the formation of its judgment. And it is so in fact. The best proof of the undue influence of selfishness, party feeling, religious bigotry, on the mind of the people, in the great questions of the day, is to be seen in this, that all the supporters of the great measures of recent times, all the classes, and even the very localities from which those measures received their first success, and by the exertions of which they were ultimately carried out, were those whose prejudices and material interests were to be most forwarded by their success. Again, all those by whom they were opposed, were those whose inte- rests were most endangered, and prejudices most struck at, by them. Free Trade was nurtured in the manufacturing districts : Pro- tection was the emanation of the agricultural districts. The liberty of conscience in reli- gious matters is the work of the dissenters — the power of the State Church that of church- S 194 PUBLIC OPINION, men. The opposers of Corporation and University Reform — of Reform in the Law — are to be found in those who, immediately, or by association, are most interested in keeping up the existing state of things. A singular instance of the undue influence of interested motives, is seen in the way in which the political opinions of individuals swerve to and fro with that of the sect to which they belong. No sooner do the leaders of the great parties find it necessary or right to modify or change their opinions and their line of policy, than immediately the light which had refused to shine upon the minds of their followers for so long before, bursts in at once, and, strange to say, they all see the true light simultaneously with theu' lea- ders. It was so with Sir Robert Peel's party in 1847. He changed his opinions on the Corn Laws, and a large part of his friends altered their opinions at once. And so it was with the Protectionists in 1851, when there was a probability of their accession to power, and again in 1852, when there was an accession by them to power. Their demands at once fell. AND THE STATE. 195 and they seemed to have abandoned Protec- tion for a reduction of the burdens upon land. Everywhere, in this and in all other times, it is abundantly manifest, that the influence of interested motives, of party spirit, and reli- gious feeling, acts as powerfully in the for- mation of the opinion of society, as in that of individuals. And, as in estimating the value of opinion, as an evidence of truth, we cannot lielp holding but lightly that opinion which is pronounced strongly in favour of that side of the question on which he who gives it is interested — so, it is as impossible to attach much weight to an expression of opinion, supposing it to be such, which the public, or part of it, gives of that side on which it is most prejudiced. It is impossible to set much value, as a test of truth, on the demonstration which was made in the manu- facturing and commercial districts in favour of the repeal of the Corn Laws — or to that which now comes forth from the agricultural classes for their restoration, — knowing, as we do, the extent to which those classes were, and are, respectively concerned in them. In 196 PUBLIC OPINION, both cases, public opinion is entitled to, and will command, a profound consideration, as the wishes of those who have a rio:ht to ex- press then* wishes, and as of those who, more or less, have the power to enforce the observance of them. But in neither case is that opinion, purely as an opinion, as evidence of the truth of the side it takes, entitled to much respect, since, as we have seen, there are few, if any, questions on which the public does ex- press itself, on which it is not prejudiced. Again, the word opinion betokens not only a conclusion arrived at, but it also implies a conclusion arrived at on certain reasons — on certain grounds. And in this it is distin- guished from mere will or determination. For those words imply an arbitrary resolution — a conclusion pure and simple, irrespective of any course of reasoning. In saying, then, that a number of men, or the whole commu- nity, were of such an opinion, we must be understood to mean, not only that they had arrived at the same conclusion, but at the same conclusion on tlie same grounds. And one sees at once, that in this, the proper AND THE STATE, 197 sense of the word, there is not, and cannot practically be, any such thing- as public opinion. For the variety of points of view in which different minds view the same sub- ject — the different degrees of capacity and education, even irrespective of the bias of party feelings and motives of interest, stand almost as an absolute bar to the formation of opinion by the public, in the strict sense of the word. And the objection is not a mere formal one. In point of fact, it arises on all the great questions of the day, and weighs heavily against all public opinion as a test of truth. For instance, the Refoi-m Bill, by some of its supporters, was looked upon as a measure of justice — by others, as a matter of expediency. Some viewed it as a means of pacifying the public, others of exciting them, giving them power to demand more. Some considered it as finality — others, only as a means for further alterations in the same directions. All these, and, no doubt, many more equally inconsistent reasons, formed the ground-work of its support. So it was with the Corn Laws. Of those who supported s2 198 PUBLIC OPINION, their repeal, many, even of the higher intel- lects, did so on the ground, that the price of corn would not be materially affected ; whilst others clamoured for it on the suppo- sition that bread would become absurdly cheap. The higher manufacturing interests were doubtful and uncertain as to its effect in either of these respects, but confident of its success in increasing our trade. So with the Ecclesiastical Titles Bill. — Some voted for it purely as a civil question, as a vindica- tion of the rights of the Crown — others, despising it in this point of view, supported it out of fear of the Romish faith. And whilst some scarcely assented to it because it did not go far enough — others questioned its ex- pediency as to the extent to which it did go, especially with respect to Ireland. Taking these as instances of the general manner in which public opinion is formed, it does not appear to command much consideration as the evidence of truth. The decision of a bench of judges, or of any other body called on to express an opinion, would not carry much weight, even if a large majority were AND THE STATE. 199 in favour of the negative or afRrmative of the question propounded to them, if each of the members of that majority grounded his opi- nion upon grounds different and inconsistent with those of all the rest ; for the weight of the opinion of such a body of men depends on the principle of the accumulation of evidence — on the supposition that it is not probable that so many different minds will be wrong in their conclusions. But, since the weight of the opinion of each individual in favour of one side, would be destroyed by the opposing, qualifying, and deteriorating opinion of all the others, as must be the case where, though agreeing in the same conclu- sion, they differ as to grounds on which it is formed, it follows that the opinion of each individual is nullified by that of all the rest — and that no accumulation in reality takes place : or, in other words, that the amount of the reasons, for the soundness of each conclu- sion that arises from the number of opinions given in favour of it, are counterbalanced by the amount of reasons which arise for its un- soundness, by the number of opinions that are given against it. 200 PUBLIC OPINION, No doubt, these considerations apply to all opinions. Nearly all opinion is open to the objection of the inadequacy of the intel- lect of those forming it — of the insuffici- ency of facts, and of knowledge on which it is formed, of the bias of prejudice and in- terests. And the opinions of bodies of men are, no doubt, always weakened by the incon- sistency of the grounds on which that opinion is based. And it is for this very reason that, in reality, all opinion stands for nothing with us — that the mere opinion of others has little or no force in forming om' own, except so far as it proves itself entitled to that con- sideration by other circumstances. Pro- testants hold it for nothing, that two-thirds of Europe are of the Roman Catholic per- suasion — and the Roman Catholics nothing, that the more intelligent portion of Europe, are either Protestants, or have little religion at all. It is no argument with the Free Traders, that so large a portion of the commu- nity are still Protectionists — nor with the Pro- tectionists, that all the more enlightened por- tions of the community, the great towns, &c., AND THE STATE. 201 are Free Traders. And the reason at bot- tom of this is, that each beheves the indi- viduals of the opposite interest to be Winded by their rehgious prejudice, or by their per- sonal interests, or those of the class and party to which they belong ; or that the bulk of those individuals have not the capacity, the range of mind, and the knowledge of facts, to entertain the question in such a manner as to render their opinion of much weight. In point of fact, mankind always do, and always have, given no weight to common opinion, as an authority for truth. It only has weight with them so far as it proves it- self entitled to such consideration, so far as it appears that the party forming that opinion brings a superior knowledge, a careful in- vestigation of the facts, and a greater free- dom from bias to bear on it. Opinion that is the result of science, that is arrived at by a rigid course of logical investigation, conducted by minds that especially set themselves apart to the study of that subject, and that by practice have learnt to shut out undue influ- ence, like courts of law, or a scientific com- 202 PUBLIC OPINION, mission — such opinions society holds con- clusive, and, as such, has always respected them. And of this nature is all parliamentary inquiry. Party influence may exist there as in the public. But there is always elabo- rate investigation and searching argument by men accustomed to deal with such matters. There ai-e some points on which public opinion commands even a test of truth — a deeper respect. And that is, so far as it is the expression of the feelings, and of the sentiments of the people. For the want of a disposition, and capacity in the public, for searching out truths that lie deep, does not apply to those cases in which truth comes by impulse and intuition. Of the fairness or unfairness of a measure — of the honour and integrity of such and such a transaction — of the cruelty and oppression in such and such a case — the commonest intellects, and the most uneducated minds, are capable of forming a fair estimate. In such matters, truth is arrived at by the wisest, as well as by the simplest — not by long, careful, and con- nected analysis, but by bold inductions, AND THE STATE. 203 grounded on the instinctive sense of right and wrong, sharpened up by the tones and feehngs of society. And these feehngs are implanted pretty evenly in the minds of all classes. They may be quickened, and rendered more delicate, by education and higher asso- ciations ; but the perception of justice, with all its delicate modifications of the fair and un- fair, is evenly diffused throughout all grades of society, and flourishes in one as well as in another. And not only are the lower classes capable of forming proper notions on subjects of this sort, but they do so. On all questions of government, as to right and wrong, in the sense of wise or unwise — how- ever vital their importance may be, the peo- ple for the most part remain passive, unless there be something in such questions that immediately touches it. But the moment a matter in which any question as to right and wi'ong, in the sense of just or unjust, arises, the people — the masses — seldom fail to express themselves at once. A Minister may commit a blunder with impunity, for it is only the few who perceive it. But an in- 204 PUBLIC OPINION. justice, an unfairness, would biing down public opinion on him at once. Again, public opinion, as ascertaining and exhibiting the actual wants of the people, and so affording, as it were, the materials, the sub- ject matter for legislating upon, is true in its operation, and performs an immense service. And by its actual wants are meant such wants as are distinguishable from its mere theories, wills, and desires. For these have their origin in speculation, impulses, or arise from temporary excitement and passion, and still more, as we have before seen, from a love of novelty. But its wants, in the strict sense of the word, are those requisites which arise to society, as to an individual — as the result of the status in which it finds itself — as the consequence of the facts by which it finds itself surrounded. These come not by the medium of theoretical induction, or by a course of reasoning, for the working out of which high intellect, education, and research are required, but they present themselves as emanations of certain facts, in combination. The incompetency of the mind of the public AND THE STATE. 205 for difficult investigation of truth, does not apply here. For it feels its actual wants — it does not reason on them — they present themselves — it does not search for them — and the commonest minds are susceptive of them in their full integrity. How far these partial wants of the connnunity may be gra- tified with due consideration to the compli- ances with others already existing — how far tlie demands of any particular class can be sa- tisfied, with due regard to those of others, or of society as a whole — these are matters of theory, of induction, requiring investigation, and therefore, perhaps, beyond the range of public opinion, and best left to the legisla- ture. But since, as we have seen, the wants and the wishes of the people are the basis of all legislation ; and legislation consists in no- thing but discovering those wants, and form- ing, arranging, and carrying out laws as the compliances with them ; it is manifest, that public opinion, as a means for declaring and ascertaining what those wants are, is of an immense importance, and is entitled to T 206 PUBLIC OPINION, the deepest atteDtion and consideration of all governments. And no doubt but that the State is open to many of the same fi-ailties and defects as a tribunal for the formation of opinion — for the arriving at the truth, — that public opinion is. And it is especially liable to imputations to its impartiality. The House of Commons, the House of Lords, and Ministers themselves, are urged by the same party prejudices, individual passions, and violent interests, that the public itself is. The State too well represents the people in this respect. For all the selfishness of material interests, the animosities of fac- tions, and even the religious bigotry, find their way into the State, and are too well re- presented in parliament. But in this defect, and in most others, it is equalled by public opinion, whilst it is possessed of means and capacities for arriving at the truth of political questions, that public opinion has not. And first of all, the State is an organic power, formed, fashioned, and fitted with an immense apparatus for the searching out of AND THE STATE. 207 truth, and the imposing an ohservance of it. But pubhc opinion is an inorganic body, unformed, unfashioned, and without system of any sort. Besides, the State has a vast machinery for collecting and using public opinion. In all its acts and judgments, public opinion enters, and plays an immense part there. The constituency, composed as it is of a large proportion of the members of each order, class, and interest, represents pretty fairly the whole community. Directly, on all vnportant points, for these seldom escape the ordeal of a general election. And, indirectly, on all secondary points, — because somehow or other, all ministries, all who have the direction of affairs, have to stand the test of a general election, either before they come into office or soon after. — And thus public opinion always has a means of expressing, and, in fact, does express itself, upon the men, and so on the general line of policy, and on the measures, that are to be adopted. In truth, the State, as it comprises the House of Commons, comprises the opinion, the will of the people. Public opinion is one of the 208 PUBLIC OPINION, main elements of the House of Commons ; the House of Commons a main element of the state. Therefore, puhlic opinion too, is a main element of the state. But the con- verse of this is not true. The state is not represented in public opinion, as public opinion is in the state. The opinion of the state, no doubt, operates indirectly by moral influence on public opinion. What its lead- ers think, goes very far in making up the minds of the people as to what they are to think. What the people think, too, goes far in making up the minds of the state as t> what they are to think ; so that in this the/ are equal. But public opinion operates through the House of Commons forcibl)'^ and directly, as well as by these indirect moral influences. And by so much has the advantage over public opinion — for in poli- tical things, j)Ower goes for everything. And when we have to choose between two things, if one contains the good properties of the other, but not the other those of the one, that fact must operate very forcibly in making up our minds as to which we ought to elect. AND THE STATE. 209 Again, the state has the advantage in this, that intellect rules there with greater force than in public opinion. Not but that in the public there is, not of course, most intellect. But that there it is oppressed and borne down by the incapacities and want of educa- tion of the great masses. And not that in- capacity and stolidity do not exist in the state, but that intellect and capacity are as- cendant. The House of Lords are all well educated men. Many of them at least, like the Bishops and the Law Lords, have risen there by their talents. — Many, most perhaps, have served a sort of apprenticeship to public business in the House of Commons, or in the positions they have held in the govern- ment or administration of the country, as ministers, public officers, and magistrates. The members of the House of Commons, too, are all, at least, men of education. Most of them are either the leading men as to po- sition and talent in their counties or boroughs, or else eminent as merchants, manufacturers, and lawyers. It is manifest that in such a body of men, intellect and intelligence far out- T 2 \ 210 PUBLIC OPINION, A, V weigh ignorance and incapacity, and hold a more exclusive sway than in a general com- munity. For in the latter, though a gi'eater amount of intelhgence and knowledge may of course exist, scattered and oppressed as it is with the mediocrities, incapacities, and want of education of the multitude which surrounds it, it cannot perform its functions as it would do if all those intelligences were collected into one. The difference is, as be- tween fifty able men who consult and resolve in a body by themselves, and fifty equally able, who work scattered amongst an indis- criminate crowd, each of the members of which has an opinion and a vote of the same force as that of the man of intelligence and knowledge. Besides, the state has an orga- nization of labour, a machinery for getting to- gether those facts upon which all government, both legislative and executive, turns, which public opinion has not. Commissions of In- quiry, Committees in the Upper and Lower House, Ofiicial Returns, are means which the State has, and always uses, before it legislates or acts. It has, too, a regular course of bu- AND THE STATE. 211 siness — a system for discussing, deliberately and clearly, questions which come before it, and of obtaining the precise opinion of each party entitled to vote, which public opinion has not, and from its nature never can have. But, again, in all questions of the rival claims of public opinion and the state as to the sovereignty of power, as well as this question — Which will use power with most wisdom and justice ? this also arises— Which will give the fullest guarantees for the best use of it ? For, somehow or other, there is a natural tendency in all powers to tyranny and corruption. History is too full of this problem, that power established for the best ends, unrestricted, may soon be turned to the most stolid and basest purposes — that the highest minds and purest hearts are de- bauched by contact with it. And in all estimates of the relative claims of public opinion and the state to sovereignty, we must be careful to give due weight to the fact, that all the limitations and conditions to which the authority of the state is sub- jected, all the guarantees which are taken 212 PUBLIC OPINION, ^ for the due performance of its office, the publicity of deliberation, the responsibility, even the liability of officers, public opinion is free from. The public, in this respect, is like a vestry meeting — If anything goes \\Tong, it is no one's fault. And, like a board of railway directors, no one blushes at what no one in particular is answerable for. Call upon any one respectable member of the vestry, or of the directorship, or of the public, to do any particular act which they are in the habit of doing, on his own responsi- bility — with his own character at stake — and all will excuse themselves. It is a very important consideration as to the value to be set upon public opinion, that it is the govern- ment of persons unknown, who vote in secret, and none of whom is individually respon- sible. It is a consideration that actuates us, in all other respects, every day. Power, without responsibility, whether the power be held by one or ten thousand, will never be used with that care and discretion that all power ought to be used with — and with which power with responsibihty is used. AND THE STATE. 213 The chief officers of the state have to answer individually, each for his own department. If a pauper has half a pound of hread too much or too little, or a postman is discharged without due form, they are questioned and catechised as to it — they are answerable. And all are together answerable for the proper legislative and executive management of the country — and the direct abuse of power is visited with punishment at once. Every member of the House of Commons has to answer to his constituents for his vote, which is no sooner given than published abroad and canvassed by every one. He gives it at the risk of being held an honest or dishonest man, capricious or steady- minded, wise or weak-minded. Each of the peers, too, in giving his vote, is subjected to the scrutinizing eye of the public, of his friends, and of the peers about him. But the individual members of the public are responsible to no one, they are unknown, and give their votes in secret. The vote of each is so small a unit in the great mass, that each gives his vote, or acts in a way 214 PUBLIC OPINION, very different from what he would do if he were a minister, under the eye of all, subject to questions, — open to animadversions — and even to impeachment, — and, finally, with all the risk, — the responsibility, on him. He gives it even in a very different way to what he would do, if, as a member of parliament, he would have to answer to his constituents and to all the world for it, and if, as given by one of a small majority or minority, the result of a great question depended on it. The claims then of public opinion to power, as against the State, on the whole, do not stand for much. The right to all political power, whether claimed by the State or by the people, when analyzed to the last ele- ments, will be found to consist mainly of ca- pacity and integrity for the use of it. xA.ll government, whatever be its form, on what- ever gi'ounds its right be placed, has for the end of its existence the ordering and regu- lation of society, the desiring of what is most just and most wise for all, and the en- forcing it. For the discovery of truth, — intel- ligence, — capacity, — an education up to the AND THE STATE. 215 mark, — diligent investigation, — order, and freedom from all undue prejudice, are de- manded. For enforcing of truth, oneness of purpose and of action. And tliese are qualities that never did reside with a democracy, with a government in which public opinion, ope- rating directly, reigned paramount. Not that right to power wholly depends on the capacity for using it. Not tliat the right of the State to the sovereignty of power, as against the people, implies that the State is freed from the control of public opinion. In theory it is manifestly not so. That those who have created a power, and in whose right and for whose use it is held, are to have no control over it, and that the power of the people, because it has deputed it to the State, is entirely beyond its control, were difficult positions to maintain. And as we have seen, in point of fact, the State does not hold, never has held, an unrestricted sway. The public has frequently, as we have before seen, forcibly imposed its will on the State. And on all occasions, when the sove- reignty of the State seems exercised to its 216 PUBLIC OPINION, most arbitrary extent, it is always powerfully operated upon, modified and limited, by the surrounding force of public opinion. Not that it is not on some points more entitled to power by the right of capacity, than the state itself. But that, on the whole, the right to the sovereignty of power, so far as de- pending on the ability to use it, is with the State, and that those incessant appeals which we see made to public opinion, from the decision of the State, in political mat- ters, are ill-founded. But lastly, whatever be the grounds on which it is based — on right or usurpation — the power of public opinion is a fact and as such must be accepted. And this is its great and real importance. Rights are nothing with- out pow er, and for practical purposes power is everything, even without rights. Public opi- nion, though it were justice and wisdom per- sonified, unless backed by power to make it- self respected, were nothing. It is only those higher minds that pure wisdom and justice can control. Power enforces all. Even those higher minds frequently become impervious to truth, AND THE STATE. 217 through prejudices and bias, especially in political matters, and then power is the only means of getting at them. Besides, in all the political questions which really affect society, which touch its prejudices, its esta- blished customs, its material interests, or those of the masses into which it is divided, it always comes to force at last. And then it is power that settles the point. Even on purely speculative questions, men commence by differing individually on some immaterial point — then they congregate into parties, and, mutually exhorting each other, soon come to violence, and tlie strongest prevails, some- times when in the right, sometimes when in the wrong. And, no doubt, but that public opinion, both in its indirect and direct action, is an immense force, and so of immense importance. As a right, it is vague and uncertain. And for capacities and integrity, it does not command much respect. But it is manifest, from the whole course of the history of this country, that as a power it is to be feared and to be managed. And, like all powers, it may be used for the u 218 PUBLIC OPINION, noblest as for the meanest ends — for carrying out truth as well as error. Like all other power, those who would wield it must court it and woo it from below, or command it from on high. Public opinion is a thing- easy to be won ; like a woman, it is a creatm'e of impulses, of emotions, — generous as well as wilful ones. JNo wonder that those who have been most successful with the people, should have succeeded so well, too, witli the weaker sex. Do Retz, ]\Iirabeau, Wilkes, O'Connell, had all the same vicious power over women that they had over the people. As if the study of the one were a good schooling for the other j as if the same (lattery, patient watching for opportunity, easy confidence in themselves, pitiful con- tempt for their victim, had been necessary for success with both. The good opinion of the public, too, like that of women, is caught by trifles. — That too is capricious, — sensitive to little attentions rather than great services, — open to the wily, almost despising the man of worth; yet finding them both out when it is too late, and giving each his reward. AND THE STATE. 219 Those who would command its affections, must do so from above, — seize on its imagi- nation by the display, or by the fame and reputation of their talents. For the public, too, love through the ears, — judge of a man by what it hears rather than what it knows of him. — Or they must rule it by those sinister influences which lie within the range of second-rate ca- pacities, serve its purposes, and encourage its frailties, flatter its vanity, excite its hopes and fears as occasion requires. The people, too, must be humoured in little matters : allowed to have its own wav, and it will not trouble to follow it ; if thwarted, it will have it from mere spite. But, especially, permitted to talk ; if that be stopped, it will begin to think, to plot, and act. There lies the fault of so many great statesmen. They argue with public opi- nion ; they deal with it as they would with a man, through its reason, rather than as with a girl, through its humours and impulses. Ap- peal to its good sentiments and feelings — and thev have it at once. Demaooffues and the back benches of the Opposition know this, and when they want the people, they work upon 220 PUBLIC OPINION', its passions. What carried the Reform Bill was not so much a conviction of its absolute necessity. It was the sense of injustice it laboured under against the then existin*^ system of borough-mongering, — it was a sort of revolt of the middle classes against the oppression of the higher ones. So it was with Catholic Emancipation, and, to a great extent, with the Corn Laws. No doubt that it is more difficult for Ministers to woo a capricious public, than for an Opposition or demagogues. For, as Ministers, they are con- strained to do what they think most wise and most right — and that, unfortunately, often happens to be what the people think unwise and unjust. And so they are incessantly, by force of circumstances, in antagonism with the people. But their position, for this very reason, has sometliing in it that should touch those nobler sentiments to tlie favour of which they are fairly entitled. And as public opinion is a thing easily to be won, so it is a thing* liard to be retained. A powerful mystery, a thing- unknown, unseen Ministries and Oppositions, Popular AND THE STATE. 221 and Court Parties, all alike bow and pay adoration to it — the sincere secretly, the liypocritical ostentatiously. And yet what all. distrust and hate ; for, ultimately, it rejects and deserts them all. It uses them whilst they serve its purpose, then casts them aside — and all learn, from the fate of their friends and enemies, what shall happen to themselves. In their prosperity some forget this for a moment, but they are soon reminded of it. A political reputation sel- dom outlives five years of office in this country — scarce five months in France — though it has taken a quarter of a century to build up. In the eyes of a party it may last longer, because the interest and the prejudice of the members which compose it, are bound up, and, in some sort, dependent on it. And with individuals too — for they are capable of forming a calm estimation, and feelino' o-ratitude and admiration for intellect and talent. But with the public it seldom exceeds that period, except he who owns it be thrown out of office, or happens to die; and then, like a relenting mistress, u 2 222 PUBLIC OPINION. public opinion becomes sincere in its affec- tion at last, for the man who spent a whole life in her devotion, and, with a gratitude that is not perhaps too late, gives him re- grets that are immortal. CHAPTER IX. LEGISLATIVE SCIENCE. Another constituent element of all laws and institutions, as we have seen, is legis- lative science. However steady the indirect influence of public opinion may be, its di- rect influence is but seldom put in opera- tion, and it is only on more solemn and im- portant occasions it makes itself heard and felt. In point of fact, the people trusts and has faith in those to whom it has delegated the work of legislation and government — and it is only when it believes that they swerve from their duties, that it interferes. Thus the work of law-giving hangs mainly on the State. For public opinion, acting in- directly, can, and does, but operate in its last 224 LEGISLATIVE SCIENCE. result through that. The wisdom, tlie expe- rience, the honesty of purpose for finding out the truth, and the quiet courage for im- posing that, as the will of the majority, upon the factious minority, lies with the State. And the success of all government is in pro- portion to the extent to which these qualities are found in it. Even where public opinion, acting directly and forcibly, is the moving- power of any new Law, legislative science is still called on to play an immense part in it. There is still a wide difference between pub- lic opinion on any given point, and a sta- tute on it — a wide field between what the people wishes, and what is good for it. Laws that were but the mere expression of public opinion, were but another sort of Lynch Law ; fervid, passionate things, where the coolest judgment was required — things teeming witli prejudices and antipathies of the moment, while they professed to be what were to last for ages. Public opinion, whether acting directly or indirectly, is at best but the raw material of legishition. It is not till it has been operated upon by le- LEGISLATIVE SCIENCE. 225 gislative science, till it has been sifted, sorted, refined, and mixed with other ingre- dients, that it becomes useful. Legislative science, we say, for the want of some better term — for, in truth, there is no such thing as a science of legislation or of government, such as it exists at present. There is no collection of truths reduced into a system, no body of facts placed in juxta- position, and contrasted together, so as to give forth general truths as a result — and those truths again applied in contrasting and explaining other facts, that can entitle legis- lation or government, such as it now is, to assume the name of a science. There may be some few axioms, like the right of the liberty of conscience, some few doctrines like that of Free Trade, but their number is too small, their connexions with each other too limited, and system too entirely wanting, to entitle them as yet to the appellation of a science. Legislation and government, then, are things that must depend on the men who are called on to govern and legislate, and on them mainly, for their success. There are two 226 LEGISLATIVE SCIENCE. general methods by which men conduct the investigation of truth. The first, adopted wherever the circumstances admit, is by sci- ence, by avaihng ourselves of general truths before established, as a sort of conventional, accepted wisdom, that has been accumula- ting for ages. And the other, that carried on by the sole aid of our individual intelli- gence, acting freely and of themselves on each new matter that presents itself. Not but that there is not in this second method, some science, a mass of general intelligence previously acquired, and now brought into play on a specific point. And not but that in this second process we may not adopt a chain of reasoning, state our propositions, grant our axioms, and arrive at our demonstra- tions, as industriously and as ardently as if we were moving by the light of science, strictly so called. But it is done imper- fectly, — however powerfully; notlogically,and is incomplete. If we contrast the charac- ter of a parliamentary debate with scientific investigation or a legal argument, though the object of all three is the same — the LEGISLATIVE SCIENCE. 227 evolving- the truth of any given matter — it is impossible not to be struck how feeble and unsuccessful are the results, which the for- mer gives towards the end in view, as con- trasted with the latter. And the gi-eat reason is, that in all legislative inquiry there are none, or so few, of those admitted general principles — those data of facts to start from — that exist in the law and in the natural sciences, and to serve as landmarks to steer by. Everything is new — every step is to be sounded and settled, as if it were treading on unknown ground — every- thing is capable of being, and so really is, disputed — and so all is in difficulty. This arises partly from the backward state of our intelligence on the subject, through previous neglect — and partly from the very nature of the subject : and not a little, per- haps, because the labour of the philosopher, the man of thought and theoiy — has not been in sufficient combination with that of the statesman — the man of facts and of action. Legislation and government, such as it is now known to us, is a new science, a thing 228 LEGISLATIVE SCIENCE. of modern date. During the late war, as we have seen, and up to that time, the attention of the people and of its rulers had been absorbed by the external affairs of the na- tion. And since that time, or since the movement of legislation has been going on, we have been too busily engaged in the practice of legislating, too busily engaged in complying with imperative demands, in satis- fying immediate and pressing wants, to be able to adopt any systematic arrangement in dealing with them. Facts always must pre- cede knowledge. And from the nature of the thing itself, legislation is difficult to deal scientifically with. Laws are essentially prac- tical things — expediencies. Society goes on increasing, and every year a fresh mass of Sta- tutes becomes necessary ; most of them with different directions, and separate objects in view. Each is but a compliancy, and all can only be as a sort of patch-work, that is to do for the present. In a few years tlie facts legislated on will have changed, our intelligences will have enlarged, and so a new Law have become necessary. The Reform LEGISLATIVE SCIENCE. 229 Bill was thought a finality in 1832, — all seem to admit that it has already become neces- sary to reconsider it, in some points of view or other. As society is undergoing muta- tions and developments, laws which are, or ought to be, identified with society, must do so too. And science and system are diffi- cult things where the work is to be done piece-meal — by patch work. It would be easy enough for legislation to be more re- gular, more scientific, if it were less practi- cally subservient to its purposes, and we could commence de novo — on broad principles. But whatever be the cause, and whether it be given us to hope, that some day there may be such a thing, this much at least may be said, that at present, if there be a system, there is no science of legislation. And it fol- lows, that in all legislative government, the characters of the men who govern are everything. Where there is a science, those who cultivate it stand for nothing. Where there is a store of arbitrary truths, which cannot be departed from, and which can be appealed to on all occasions, and which X 230 LEGISLATIVE SCIENCE. on most will give a definitive answer — or, there is a system of rules and facts, that affords grounds for deducing a definitive answer from, and a well regulated mode of conducting such deductions, the votaries of such a science have little to do, — are left com- paratively little scope for individual action, — are but the puppets of the science which moves them. To be acquainted with, and be able to use what others have taught, that is sufficiency ; to compound a little of the new themselves, and add it to the heap, — that is excellence. But where there is no science, nothing but general intelligence, — where everything starts afresh, — each part has to be considered by itself, ab integro, before it can be used in conjunction with the rest, — it is clear that all must depend upon the investi- gator. It is manifest that individual minds liere are everything — that the result of the investigation depends on the amount of in- telligence, energy, capacity, and the purity of mind, from all secondary motives, that is brought to bear on it. CHAPTER X. THE FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR — WHOM HE REPRESENTS. But before going fully into the character and vocation of a legislator, it becomes ne- cessary to ascertain the nature and extent of the rights and duties of his office. How far a member of the House of Commons, is a representative, how far a mere deputy— whether he be the deputy or representative of his constituency, or of the whole country — in what sense, and to what extent, he repre- sents each and both of these — how far he is to be a mere spokesman, through whom the country and his constituency express them- selves, — or how far he is bound to follow his own reason and conscience, in voting on 232 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, the great measures brought before him ; these are questions not only of a speculative na- ture — the whole theory of representation is involved in them. And thus they are ques- tions which not only this country, but the whole of Europe, has been for some time past — still is — and hereafter, perhaps, ever will be — profoundly interested in and excited upon. And first of all, since he is but a repre- sentative — one holding the rights of others — of his constituents and the public, it becomes essentially necessary, for the proper under- standing of the chai'acter of a member of the House of Commons, to have definite notions as to the rights of those whom he represents, — of his constituents and of the public, — with regard to the elective franchise. By some, the right of tlie elective fran- chise is held to be a personal right — that by the theory of the constitution, and the gene- ral principles of political science, it belongs to the freeholder or burgess, or whoever the elector may be — in his own right, as such freeholder or burgess. But, in truth. WHOM HE REPRESENTS. 233 Oiere is no such thing as any public right be- longing to a man in his individual capacity. Freeholders, burgesses, or ten-pound rent- ers, as such, have no more right than any one else to participate in the making of, or consenting to laws, as individuals, and in their private capacities. One that holds a power of interfering in other men's concerns, without their consent, holds such power in right of the public, not of himself And electors, in choosing those who are to make laws for the whole community, manifestly ex- ercise public duties, not private ones. To say that freeholders or burs^esses hold the elec- tive franchise, as belonging to themselves, for their interest and benefit, and to be used at their mere will and discretion, would be to hold, that the great mass of the community of the people, were subjected to the will of a small portion of it. That, in reality, were to subject it to a mere tyranny. For, as M. Guizot has observed, a tyranny is where the sovereign power of the State is held by one or more individuals in their own right, as mere men, for their own benefit, to be used X 2 234 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, at their own caprice and will. And it mat- ters not, whether the power be vested in a king, in an aristocracy, or in a constituency^ so long as the power is held on these terms, and by this right. If the elective franchise belongs, or is to be granted to a man, as a freeholder, a ten or five-pound house- holder, or a payer of taxes in his own right, and not as the trustee of the public, it must be on the principle, that such persons have some right inherent in themselves, as free- holders or burgesses, to govern, or to take a paramount part in the government of the rest of the community. And that is absurd. But again. By others it is held, that the franchise belongs as of right to every one ; but, from the want of capacity, intelligence, and independence to use it, it is in abey- ance as to the great mass, — and that in time, such disqualifications being removed by edu- cation, and other means, that the mass will be enabled and entitled to lake it up. This is the doctrine of Universal Su(rra<»:e : such as it prevails in the United States and in France at this moment, and such as it is WHOM HE REPRESENTS. 235 professed by the most advanced party in Eng- land. And it would seem, from the altera- tions in the electoral franchise, proposed by Lord John Russell's Bill of February, 1852, in point of fact, to be that of the lea- ders of the Reform or Whig party, also : for Her Majesty, on the opening of the parlia- ment, in February, 1852, was made to say : — " It appears to me that this is a fitting time *' for calmly considering whether it may not " be advisable to make such amendments in " the Act of the late reign relating to the " representation of the Commons in Parlia- " ment, as may be deemed calculated to " carry into more complete effect the princi- " pies upon which that law is founded." The principles of the Reform Bill of 1832, were the re-adjastment of the right to return Members, and of the mode of voting — but chiefly the extension of the franchise, by the creation of the ten-pound household suffrage, for the cities and boroughs, and the fifty-pound tenancy for the counties. The " carrying into more complete efl'ect" of this latter principle, as appeared from the Bill 230 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, of 1852, as subsequently introduced, was made to consist in extending the sufirage to five-pound house-renters for cities and bo- roughs, and to twenty-pound renters for the counties. And the words Her Majesty was there made to express, relative to the proposed measures, — the appellation of them as " such " amendments as may be deemed calculated '* to" carry into moj'e complete effect the princi- " pies upon which that law (ikc Reform Bill) " was founded," show that the extension of the suffrage then proposed was only part of a system, prospective, as well as retrospective. The idea of the new extension being a finality was carefully excluded, by the measure being designated as one calculated to carry into more complete effect the former one. It is manifest, that had it been viewed as a finality, or otherwise than as part of an un- completed system, that the word more would not have been used. The use of a compa- rative in this way, while it excludes, never fails to suggest a superlative. It is clear that the proposed extension was offered as, and to be taken as, part of an unfinished WHOM HE REPRESENTS. 237 system. And since, by this one step, the pro- perty quaUfication was to be diminished one- half — from a ten-pound to a five-pound rent for cities and boroughs, and from a fifty-pound to a twenty-pound rent for the counties — it would seem, tluit it would want but one more step in the same direction, on the same ratio of progression, to bring us to Universal Suffrage. The doctrine of Universal Sufii'age, — that every subject or citizen has a right to participate in the government of the coun- try, as such subject or citizen, stands on the same grounds, and is false for the same reason, as the doctrine, that freeholders and ten- pound householders have a right, as such, to the franchise. The constituency, whether it consist of freeholders, of ten-pound, or five-pound renters, or of all persons of a cer- tain age and sex, has no right, as of itself, to legislate for the rest of the public. x4nd where the franchise has attained the most com- prehensive form, it still always amounts to this, — that one half or portion of the commu- nity represents the other, — that one half 238 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, makes the laws and taxes, which all are to obey. And if the unrepresented half does consist of women, and persons under age, who are under the control of others, they are not the less amenable to the criminal laws, and laws of inheritance, religion, &c. And in many cases, not less subject to taxes than the rest of the community 3 for the number of single women who are housekeepers and traders, — the number of persons under age, who are freed from their parents' control, and live by their own exertions, and so pay taxes, is immense in the manufacturing dis- tricts and among all the lower classes. Be the franchise as comprehensive as it may, those who participate in making the laws, or wdio elect those who do, can never be iden- tical, or co-extensive with those who have to obey them. The constituency, then, can never be the communitv. It is, and must always be, a sort of trustee of the rights and interests, — the deputy of the powers, — the representative of the opinions of the whole community. And an elector, then, holds the franchise as belonging to the public, not to himself. WHOM HE REPUESENTS. 239 And the same clilEculty would exist, even if women and minors were qualified to vote, and every one to be bound by a law, or a tax, did participate by his representative in enacting- it. For a member then, as now, would be returned by a constituency, not only " to consent for them in such things as shall then and there be ordained," but also " to treat and confer with others on the urgent affairs of the nation ;" that is, to im- pose laws on others. By the words of the writ, and in point of fact, he would not only have to consent to laws and taxes for him- self and his constituents, but to impose them on other people. And that he has clearly no right to do, except as the agent, the servant, the representative of the others. A man may consent to laws or taxes for himself, in his private character, so far as they are only to affect himself; but he cannot consent to them, so as to affect other people, except as the servant or the deputy of those people. An elector, then, sends his repre- sentative to parliament for two purposes — to consent for him to the laws and taxes there 240 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, imposed, and to impose laws and taxes on others, without their express or immediate consent. And since an elector is entitled to have no more importance attached to his vote or opinion, as an individual, than any other member of the community has to his, and since, as an individual, as to all rights belonging to himself — held for his own use, he is only as one in thirty millions, the right and power of an elector as an individual, as against his right and power as a trustee and officer of the public, is as one in thirty millions, — is nothing. All then who assert, or seek to carry out the elective franchise, as belonging to the freeholder, or the ten or five-pound householder, the rate-payer, or the subject, as such, seem to be in error. Neither does it belong to the classes, J nor is the representation of the classes the true theorv of the Eno:lish Constitution. For J This is the theory of tlie article in the Edinburgh Review, of January, 1852, on The Expected Reform Bill, so replete with deep practical and novel views. The author of this work was unfortunate in finding that in some points of this ciiaptcr he had been anticipated by that very able writer — but they have been treated on different grounds — and with different views. WHOM HE REPRESENTS. 241 each class is but an agglomeration of certain individuals holding similar opinions and pre- judices, and having similar interests. And individuals have no more right to power, to rule the rest of the community, in agglome- ration, than in isolation. Nor have all the classes taken together; for all the classes do not comprise all the community. And if the most complete system of representation by the classes were carried out, and the re- presentative system exclusively adapted to that object, an immense mass must still be unrepresented. Besides, the element of a class is unity of opinion, of sentiment, feel- ing, or of material interest. And the end of all its activity and energy, is the promo- tion of that opinion, sentiment, or interest. But the function of government, or of the House of Commons, is something else than that of legislating for the classes. To view it as a mere means of expression of the re- ligious belief, political principles, or material interests of the great parties into which the community imagines itself divided — manu- facturers and agriculturists, — townsmen and 242 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, countrymen, — dissenters and churchmen, — hberals and conservatives, — Irishmen and EnsfHshmen, were to take but a narrow view of it indeed. There are, besides these, countless interests, classes, opinions, sects, and na- tionalities, that have a right to be acted for, and legislated for, and represented, as well as these. Again, each member of a class, or interest, has a thousand other interests, opinions, and sentiments, besides those for the forwarding of which his particular party is formed. Protection is not the only politi- cal creed, or the only political interest, of the farmer or landlord. Nor Free Trade that of the manufacturer and mechanic ; and the ten-pound a-year renter has other interests besides that of a mere small townsman. To hold, then, that the great classes are to be alone or mainly represented, and that the theory of the constitution is to consult for, or chiefly for, the opinions, the feelings, and in- terests of these, either taken all together, or separately, is narrowing the function of go- vernment within a very undue limit. But what is it that the great classes, parties. WHOM HE REPRESENTS. 243 and interests propose, as their end in view ? — what is the demand which they make, or oppose when made by others ? It is always at bottom that of their own interest, their own opinion or behef. And the interest or opinion of a party is some benefit or doctrine belonging to itself, and not common to the rest of society. There is, then, always some- tliing selfish and opinionated at the bot- tom of all great parties and interests. The object of their formation, the bond of their existence — that which they always propose to themselves — is the achievement of their own selfish benefit, or the success of their doctrines, — what they believe to be true, at the expense of, and over the heads of the rest of society. They never think of re- moving any peculiar benefit which they may happen to hold as against the community at large, or take into consideration the immense advantage which they have as forming part of universal society. To get and keep all they can, as members of the general com- munity, and then to get and keep as much more as possible, as the members of a parti- 244 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, cular class — that is the end of the existence of all interests or classes. Plotters and con- trivers for their own interest, which must of necessity always be at the expense of some other class, or that of universal society, they are always, then, really obnoxious and dan- gerous to the public at large. They are so many little rebellions in the State. Who sets himself up, or enrols himself under any banner not that of the society at large, is guilty of a treason. For no man can advocate the cause of the part except at the expense of the wliole. There is nothing, then, in the nature of the classes to command that respect, which should attach to all bodies for which a political power is claimed — nothing to entitle them to be the depositories of so sacred a right as that of the franchise, or to be taken as the basis whereon the representation of the country is to be built. But, no doubt, for all that, they have an immense sway in the political world. They cannot be disregarded — they must, from the nature of the case, be accepted as part of the great frame-work of political action. The WHOM HE REPRESENTS. 245 political power of the classes, in reality, exists not by the force of truth they possess, but by the force of circumstances — not by absolute right, but a relative one. None of them has right in itself, nor as against the com- munity at large — but each has against its rival class — and it is in virtue of this right that each stands and finds its presence in the legislature. For it does not follow that because a man has no right in himself as an individual, or as against the whole com- munity, that tlierefore he has no right against a portion of it, or as against some one else. A usurper springs up — or, since in political matters individuals are nothing, some class thrusts itself too prominently forward, assert- ing a right and usurping a power against some other class, or against the whole com- munity, to which it is not entitled. As against that, at least, the rest of the commu- nity and each of the rival classes has a right, so far as it makes a usurpation, or an attempt at it. Thus the great parties are present in par- liament by their representatives, not because any single one of them, or all of them together, Y 2 246 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR^, have any right as of themselves to be there, but because there are no means of preventing them from appearing there. The two or three great orders, interests, and classes which exist in the people, force themselves into the presence of the legislature as the seat of power, because there are no means of excluding them. Constituencies will elect men as professed Free Traders or Protec- tionists, or supporters of the Irish party or the Manchester school ; and such persons, when present in parliament, will band together in factions, and there is not at present, and perhaps never can be, any means of prevent- ing this. And then if one party, interest, or faction be there in fact, its rival is entitled to be there as of right, that is, as against that. And a sort of right for all to be there thus springs up. And no doubt but that the presence of all the great parties in the legislature is bene- ficial to the whole community in many re- spects. Each of the great classes being effectually represented there, the views and opinions of all are powerfully set forth, and so WHOM HE REPRESENTS. 247 the ultimate truth — thatwhich is most just and right for all — is more fully got at. And the presence of all the great classes there is bene- ficial and essential for this reason — that the domination of any one is thereby prevented. The power which some or one would other- wise have of constraining the legislature in the use of its proper functions, is prevented by the presence of all, and so truth rendered capable of being realized. And no doubt but that since the great parties, orders, and classes will force themselves from the people into its government, that is, into power, it is of the first importance that the franchise be so adjusted as to admit all as equally as possible. But, for all this, the thing repre- sented is not the classes, but the whole com- munity. Nor is it to be taken that the whole community is represented by the classes. The classes, in fact, are only certain parts of it, and do not comprehend all of it numeri- cally. Nor do the classes represent all in- terests and opinions of the members which belong to them, only certain of those interests. For each member of a political party or 248 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, class, has a thousand other interests and opinions, besides those which are represented by his particular party. Nor is the presence of the classes in the legislature a thing to be tolerated, except as by necessity ; for the legislature is, in fact and in theory, a court of justice — a tribunal for deciding what is most wise and right for all ; and so, of necessity, has to adjudicate on the rival claims of the great parties, according to truth and equity. And the presence of the champions of those very parties on the seat of justice which is to decide on their claims — and each champion pledged, directly or indirectly, to give judg- ment for his side — to vote all the way through for his party, — his men, — is a thing somewhat painful for contemplation, and can be accepted only as a necessity. The right to the elective franchise, then, belongs to the whole public, not to the constituency, nor to any one member of it, nor to any, nor to all the certain portions of it. In the use of it, the wills of the classes, as we have already seen, and of the elector and of each constituencv, as we shall see in the next WHOM HE REPRESENTS. 249 chapter, do, as a fact, and are entitled to, as of right, operate through it to some consi- derable extent. And although it belongs to, and is entitled to be used for the interest of, in the name of, and according to the will of, the public, mainly ; yet it is to some extent, in fact and in theory, used for the interest of, in the name of, and according to the will of, the electors and the constituencies. But nevertheless, for all that, the franchise be- longs to the public, and the electors and constituencies only have right and power in it, because their so doing is for the interest of the public. An elector holds it as the trustee of the people, not as his property ; for their use, not for his ; as a public officer, not in a private right. In all dealing with it, then, — in all extension or modification of its rights or operations, the object in view is the right, the interest of the public, not that of the electors. Whether it is to be held by this class, or that, or is to be extended to all householders or rate-payers, does not depend on any right or title which they have to it. For they have, as of themselves, no more claim to it than all 250 FUNCTIO>'S OF A LEGISLATOR. the others — than all the rest. But on this, whether its being extended to them, will con- tribute to the benefitof the community at large. And a member of the House of Commons therefore owes his first duty to — represents — the whole community first — then his own electors. The constituency, in returning a representative to parliament, exercises only a power of appointment. No right, title, or in- terest emanates from them to their appointees, the members returned. A representative, like all other public functionaries, though he is selected by any body of men, acts in the right of, for the interest of another. So, the members of the House of Lords represent the whole country first, and then themselves. The onlv difference between them and the Com- mons is the mode of appointment. In one case the oflSce is by descent and for life, in the other for years, and by election. But in both they are the representatives of the public. And in all inquiry into the nature of the functions of a representative in parliament, it is very necessary to bear distinctly in mind, for whom it is that he is acting — whom it is he is representing. CHAPTER XL FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR — IN WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS. But besides the question, as to whom the House of Commons, or each of its members represents, whose agent it is — there is another, of great importance in all consi- derations of the doctrine of representation, and for the proper understanding of the character of a representative. It is this : — Whose wishes, opinions, and will, is the House, or each of its members, to obey, — to take as its guide, as to what is best for the whole community? Supposing, as we have seen, that the House of Commons repre- sents the whole community, and that its first duty is to consult what is best for that — this 252 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, question is still open, Who is to decide what is best for that interest ? Is the opinion and conviction of each representative, as formed by investigation, discussion, and deliberation with other men in parliament, to constitute the element of his vote there ? Or, are the opinions, the wishes, and the will of his constituency, or of the majority of it, or of the public or a majority of it, to be his guide ? M. Guizot, in a recent very able work'' on the theory of the representative form of government, has maintained, that in that form of the State, the wills and opinions of individuals, of electors and constituencies, are entirely excluded, or only have value for the amount of wisdom, justice, and truth they contain ; and even then, not as the will or wishes of individuals, of the electors, and of the representative, but as truth, as what is best, most just, and wise — that it is only in tyrannical governments, and in aristocra- cies, and democracies, that mere individual ^ Uistoire des Origincs du Gouveraement Representatif en Europe. IN WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS. 253 wills, opinions, and rights are binding, and stand for law — that in constitutional go- vernments, while every class and order, and every individual, is called upon to assist in discovering the truth, the wills and wishes of all and every one are rejected, — truth alone is entitled to rule. But this supposes that truth manifests itself absolutely, so clearly as to command a recoo:nition of its authority from all. It never does. The longest and most complete investigations and discus- sions end in diversity of opinion. It be- comes necessary to decide, and it always comes at last to the ipse dixit of the majority, which, by previous consent, is to stand for, and be binding on all as, the truth. All ques- tions come to a " will" and "will not" at last. Truth exists, no doubt, and the search for it brings us nearer to it. Opinions and wills are wonderfully modified and brought nearer to each other and to truth, by inquiry after, and discussion on it. But it seldom ap- pears in an absolute form, so as to impose itself, or to be entitled to impose itself, on all. And it always demands an absolute z 254 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, power — a will — to settle it at last. No question was ever yet concluded for practical purposes, without the operation of the wills of those engaged in it. For, if truth does impose itself on all, it is with their consent, and so with their will. Of what use would the privilege of participating in the deli- beration of the affairs of the nation, or in the work of legislation, be to the electors, or the legislators themselves, unless they had the power of backing up theii' opinions with a will or a vote ? The search for truth and justice would never be at an end, unless cut short at last by some final decision. The right of the will is the power that gives effect to the right of opinion. Wlioever votes, exercises his will in so doing, as well as his judgment and reason. If you ex- clude the will, the vote, as a mere expression of opinion, stands for nothing — has no force. In the ascertainment of all truth, then, the will of those to whom that duty is intrusted must perform an immense part. And to whomsoever the solution of the great political problems belong, a will is necessary. IN WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS. 255 As a fact, too, this is so. In France, up to the time of the revolution of 1789, in the States-General, the tiers-etats, which were elected by, and taken as representing the commonalty, each of the members received written instructions from his constituents, called cahiers, as to how he was to vote and act in the General Assembly, and these they were bound to obey. According to Black- stone, it was so in the United Provinces of Holland. And in the Hungarian Diet, up to 1848, it was the same too.' In England, it is clear, from the existing state of things, — from the course of practice that has held for at least two hundred years, — from the form of the writ, which is the same now as used at the first summoning of the House of Commons in the time of Edward II., that the will of the whole constituency operates powerfully in the House of Com- mons, and that of each of the constituencies operates directly and extensively through its representative. This appears — first, from the ' See M. Kossuth's speech at Southampton, in October, 1851. 256 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, practice of the electors exacting pledges from the candidates, for the support of cer- tain measures ; and of calling upon members, even those who have given no pledges, to vote in a certain way, and not unfrequently to resign their seats, when they do not com- ply. Neither practices are general ; both, as we shall presently see, are unjustifi- able, and the right to do so is incessantly denied, and compliance refused. But both practices do exist ; and in times of great ex- citement, as in that of the Reform Bill, and Corn Laws, to such an extent as to render it impossible to hold that, as a fact, the indivi- dual wills and opinions of the electors are not largely represented by those they send to Parliament. And whether the electors exact pledges at the election or not, matters little, if, in choos- ing a member, they take care to select one whose known or avowed political opinions accord with their own, or the majority of them. In such a case, all the advantage that would accrue from the exaction of pledges, is obtained without it. He does IN WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS. 257 not the less express the opinions of a body of men, or become the less their special agent, for the supporting a particular mea- sure, or a particular line of conduct, merely because he has not promised to support it, if it were known at his election that, if elected, he would support it. Whether a consti- tuency choose a man where it was known be- fore, that, if chosen, he would express its views, or one who at the time of election un- dertakes to do so, is practically the same thing. And in this sense, a large portion of the House of Commons represent the pure wills of their constituents on some points, and have no wide authority to inquire into and decide upon the truth — at least, on those mea- sures. On every election, especially when a general one takes place, there is most fre- quently some political point on which the opinions and convictions of men are fixed. No candidate ever presents himself on the hustings, except as the supporter of some great party, the advocate of some fixed prin- ciple of policy, or of some great question ; unless, indeed, he happen to have local influ- z 2 258 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, ence, or that notoriety of talent and reputa- tion that stands in the place of it. A can- didate who should present himself to an Eng- lish constituency, on no other claims than that of an investigator of truth, — who would give no other promises, make no other pro- fession of political faith, than that of search- ing out, and voting for that, would have little chance indeed — unless, perhaps, he already had a reputation, or had run a poli- tical career that rendered such a profession unnecessary. In all cases, no doubt, the fit- ness, ability, and integrity of the candidate, act as some elements of the votes which are given in his favour, but not the only or main ones. Not in eighty cases out of a hundred, do electors vote for the man, but for the party, or the principle. So that the elected goes to Parliament a special agent, to a great extent, to support the Liberal or Conservative principle — the Ministry or Opposition — not to do as he likes. They have a general authority to act as they please, in most matters — those not known, or in contemplation at the time of their election. But on these subjects only, on IN WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS. 250 certain general prescribed rules, such as on Liberal or Conservative, Free Trade or Protection principles. And as to certain known and contemplated measures, and so as to all important measures, all, either by ex- press pledges, or by avowed principles, hold only special authority — authority to vote in a certain way. It is clear, then, that the will of the electors is a very large element in our representative system. But not only in fact, are the members of the House of Commons, to a great extent, the representatives of the wills and opinions of the various constituencies for which they are elected, but in point of law, to some ex- tent at least, they are strictly so. Whether for town or country, they are elected by au- thority of a writ out of Chancery, directed to the sheriffs by virtue of a warrant of the Queen in Council. The writ, which is the same now as that anciently in use,™ subject to some slight immaterial modification by the Reform Bill, after reciting that : — " By '" See Rogers on Elections, page 1, and Appendix. 7tli Edition. 260 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, " the consent and adAice of our Council for " certain arduous and urgent affairs con- " cerning us, the State, and defence of our " said United Kingdom and the Church, we " have ordered a certain Parhament to be " holden at our City of Westminster, on " the day of next ensuing, and " there to treat and have conferences with " the prelates, great men, and peers of our " realm." It commands the sheriff '' that " proclamation thereof, and of the time and " place of election being first duly made, " for the said county, three knights of the " most fit and discreet, girt with swords, and " for the university of — two bur- " gesses, and for the city of in the *' same county, two citizens, and for each " of the boroughs of ■ in the same " county, one burgess of the most sufficient " and discreet, freely and indifferently, by " those who at such election shall be pre- " sent according to the statutes, in that case " made and provided, he cause to be " elected," and then at the day and place aforesaid, he '* cause to come in such man- IX WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS. 261 " ner, that the said knights for themselves, " and the commonalty of the same county, " and the citizens for themselves, and the " commonalty of the said city, and the " burgesses for themselves, and the com- " monalty of the said university, and said " boroughs respectively, may have from " them full and sufficient power to do and " consent to those things which then and " there by the Common Council of our " United Kingdom, (by the blessing of " God) shall happen to be ordained upon " the aforesaid affairs, so that for want of " such powers, or through an improvident " election of the said knights or burgesses " the aforesaid affairs may in no wise re- "^ main unfinished." It is by the virtue of this writ the election takes place. It is read over by the sheriff on the commence- ment of the election ; and when it is con- cluded he makes a return to it, showing, that " by virtue of the said writ, and according to " the force and effect of divers statutes in *' that case made and provided, the electors of " ha* e, by assent and consent, freely 262 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, " and indifferently, elected and chosen - " Esq., and Esq., to serve in Par- ''liament," &c., " giving and granting " the said knights (or burgesses) full and " sufficient power and authority for them- " selves and the commonalty of the afore- "said county" (or borough) "to do and " consent to those things which in the said " Parliament, by the Common Council of the " Kingdom of our Lady the Queen, by the " grace of God shall happen to be ordained " upon the affairs of the said writ." The term " consent for," used in the writ, necessarily implies the exercise of the will of the party for whom the consent is given. Consenting for themselves and others, is an operation of the mind, in which the will of both parties is put into play. It cannot take place without the wills of both being used. And the writ and the return thereto are the things by virtue of which the members more immediately sit and act. No doubt but that the writ is grounded on, and has its virtue by, the rights that existed at common law, and the " statutes in that case IN WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS. 263 made and provided," as the writ itself recites and declares. But the right is put into opera- tion, and immediately takes effect, by virtue of the writ. And the writ, having been in use in this form from the very jfirst institution of Parliamentary elections, in the time of Ed- ward II.,* is the very best evidence we can have of the extent and nature of the right. The form of the document under which legal proceedings are taken, or under which any authority is exercised, is always in law taken to be a conclusive direction of the course to be adopted, and the extent and nature of the right or authority which is claimed under it. By law, then, as appears by the form of the writ, members are not returned to Parliament by their respective constituents, merely to search after and investigate the truth, but also, to some extent, to express the wills and opinions of the constituents as to what is truth. And M. Guizot errs, in saying that individual wills have no influence, or stand for nothing in the representative govern- * See Rogers on Elections, page 1. 264 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, ment, such as it is in England. It is mani- fest that both by kiw, and in fact, the wills and opinions of the constituency of the country enter largely into the work of legis- lation. And a point so manifest would not have been insisted on, did not, as we shall pre- sently see, much practically depend on it — and had not the contrary position been so elaborately and powerfully maintained by one who was so eminently entitled to speak on the question. Not that representatives have not other duties to perform as well as that of " consent- ing ;" — not that the wills and opinions of the electors exclusively dominate over them ; — or that the representatives are the mere blind agents of the constituencies. There are other rights, other wills and opinions, other things in the system of representation, that are to be paid deference to, as well and above those of the electors — those of the public and of the representatives themselves. However great the direct, and the still greater indirect influence of the will and opinion of the electors may be in the House IN WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS. 265 of Commons, it is manifest that the wills and opinions of the men they have chosen have an immense influence there. Most candidates refuse to give direct pledges — to give up their independence, and subject their will and discretion to that of their constituents. And it is only on particular occasions, or by those who are more willing to obtain a seat in the Legislature than to preserve any degree of independence, that pledges are given. And it is only on certain parti- cular points, or on certain somewhat vague and general principles, that those candidates profess themselves. Not five measures out of ten on which a member of the House of Commons votes, directly touch the profes- sion of faith he has made on the hustings : so that in five out of ten he acts on his own discretion. And though he be returned as a Ministerialist, or one of the Opposition — as a Whig or a Tory, — and is expected, and pro- bably expects himself, to vote accordingly on all questions in which the principles of his party are involved ; yet, after all, the great mass of practical legislation takes place on 2 a 266 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, little, almost unheard-of measures, that are open questions ; and the number of these increases, and the most important topics frequently fall under this class. On all these, at least, the representative has a clear authority to act as he likes, or the will of his electors rarely and but feebly acts on him. Besides, it is incessantly happening, that individual members of the House of Com- mons vote in direct opposition to the ex- pressed will and wishes of their constituents, who are for all that bound by it. And it sometimes happens that a large portion, even a majority of the House, do this, and exercise a right to use their discretion on matters that come before them, and vote directly con- trary to the known opinion of their consti- tuents, — even against implied and expressed promises to the contrary. On the Roman CathoHc Emancipation Act, in lb28, many did. And again, on the Corn Laws, many of tlie county members voted for their repeal, against the known wishes and express ad- monition of their constiU-ients. And that, too, IN WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS. 267 even against the express understanding at their election ; for, no doubt, Sir Robert Peel's party of 1847 had been returned to support the Corn Laws, as a great many were in 1829 to oppose Catholic Emancipation. Whether they were right in refusing to re- sign their seats, is another question. But this much at least may be said, that though some three or four did — as Lord Ashley and Mr. Sturt, members for Dorsetshire, and Mr. Charteris, one of the members for Glouces- tershire — many high-minded men consi- dered that, on principle, they were not called on to do so. And these are but particular instances of what is frequently taking place in individual cases. And even where the opinions of the electors act upon the elected in the greatest, fullest, and most direct way — as where pledges are given — and there is the clearest understanding as to the principles or party which the candidate is to support, and he acts up to these to the letter — still the individual will of the representative is left open, and acts powerfully on the details of any given measure, and so, in reality. 268 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, acts powerfully on the principle of it. Be- sides, it is only on questions that are known, and ripe for consideration at the time of the election, that the will of the electors can he had, or, except in a few cases, is ever imposed upon their representatives. It is clear, then, that as a fact, the wills and opi- nions of the representatives, as well as of the represented, operate powerfully in our consti- tutional system — that they too are one of the main elements of legislation — that the wills and opinions of the electors by no means exclusively dominate there. And not only in point of fact, but in point of strict law and constitutional theory, this is so. By the form of the writ, the members are returned not only to consent for the commonalty, citizens, and burgesses of their respective counties, cities, and boroughs, but for themselves as well — " the said knights " for themselves and the commonalty of the " said county, and the citizens for them- " selves, and the commonalty of the said " city, &c." So that the members, to some extent, represent themselves as well as their IN WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS. 269 constituents. No doubt in their latter charac^ ter, such as they are in their private capacity, they are subservient to that which they hold in their public one : yet still they are there in it, and it operates. And not only for themselves and their constituents, but " to do and consent to those " things which then and there, by the Coni- " mon Council of our said United Kingdom, " &c., shall happen to be ordained." That is, besides, " consenting lor," &c., to " treat and " have conferences with the prelates, great *' men, and peers of our realm," cScc, &c., " for " certain arduous and urgent atiairs concern- " ing us, the State, and defence of our said '' United Kingdom and the Church." For these words, though they are only in the re- cital of the writ, as Lord Coke says, are incor- porated in the body of it by the words refemng to it. So that a member of the House of Commons, by the form of the writ, consents and acts for not only himself and his constituency, but also for the whole commu- nity, since he consents to, and does what is done in, " conferences on certain arduous 2 A 2 270 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, " affairs concerning us, the State, and defence *' of our United Kingdom." Besides, the law and doctrine of our con- stitution, as laid down by all the writers on government, require the assent of every one who is to be bound by a law or tax, to that law or tax. It is manifest, then, that though the constituency elect those who are to consent to laws or taxes, in so doing they must be taken as the trustees of t)ie whole public, of the electors and non-electors ; or else there is an end of that doctrine at once, — since all who are to be bound by a law or a tax do not consent to it. A member of the House of Commons, then, as his duty, is, as we have seen in the last chapter, to consult for the interest of the whole community, and to some extent that of his constituency — so in that searcli for what is best for that interest, the will and opinion of his constituency, his own as a member of the council of the nation, and to some extent his own as a mere individual, all — in fact — by strict law, — and by constitu- tional theory, operate powerfully. IN WHAT SEKSE HE REPRESENTS. 271 In such a complication of things as opi- nions and interests, confusion and conflict necessarily arise. And then this question presents itself — Which is entitled to prece- dence? Which is a member of the House of Commons to respect first — the opinion of the constituency which he represents, or that of the community at large ? In the great searching for truth, which is he bound to obey — the opinion and wishes of his electors, — or his own judgment and opinion, as the officer appointed by the public, with a general authority to act for its interest and benefit as he thinks best? And these are questions not merely of theory. The practice of candidates giving pledges before their election to vote for or against certain measures, on which they afterwards change their minds — and of con- stituencies calling on their representatives to support a measure which the representatives think objectionable, and vice versa, gives rise to the daily occurrence of these points in reality. Yet are they such as there should be but 272 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, little doubt about. For, as the interest ol the representative, as a freeman of the county or burgess of the borough for which he sits, is and must be treated as subservient to that of his constituency, as that of the part, must be taken to be less than that of the whole, so that of the constituency must be ta- ken as subservient to that of the community at large, for the same reason Where one acts for himself as member of a section of society, and also as accredited agent for the whole society — nothing is more clear than that as the interest of the section to which he be- longs is to be preferred to his own — where they clash, — so that of the whole society is to be preferred to that of the section. A member of parliament, tlien, as he has no right to allow his own private interest as a freeman or burgess to prevail against those of the whole constituency — so, likewise, he is not justified in allowing those of the constituency to ])revail against that of the community at large. And as the interest of the unit is to be taken as subservient and subjected to that of the part, and that IN WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS. 273 of the part to that of the whole — so, likewise, is the opinion, the will, and the wishes — as a power for ascertaining those interests, and enforcing the ohservance and compli- ance with them — to be taken in like ratio. A representative has no right to prefer his own opinion, will, and wish, as a mere freeman or burgess, to those of his constitu- ency — so, likewise, he has no right to prefer the will and opinion of his constituency to that of the jiublic at large ; for in so doing he abrogates his character as the representa- tive of the whole in favour of that of a repre- sentative of a small part of it. And the will or opinion of the general public — unless, as it sometimes though but rarely is, otherwise expressed by })ublic demonstration, &c., — is what the State, or the majorities of the different parts of it — what each member of it, " after treating and holding conferences with" the rest, think most wise and best to be done. The State is appointed to act for the whole community, according to prescribed forms and rules, and in compliance with certain laws, in the ad- 274 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, ministration of the affairs of the people, and according to discretion, — as it thinks most wise and best in legislating for its interests. And the public, like an individual, in ap- pointing a body of men with a general au- thority to act for it, in reason and in law, hands over its will and opinions to them — agrees to accept their acts and judgments as its own. And in using this power, in thus acting for the public, the members of the State are not justified in accepting any other guide, in admitting any other influence, than that of their own wisdom, judgment, and feeling ; for there is nothing to show that the whole community, because it has delegated to the constituency the power of appointing or of electing the members of one part of the State — of the House of Com- mons, — has given them the further power of controllino: them in the exercise of the duties of their office. Nothing is more com- mon than for the right of election of public officers, who are to act for the whole com- munity, to be vested in certain small bodies of it — yet, for the officers, when elected, to IN WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS. 275 be perfectly independent of their electors, and bound to regulate their conduct according to the rules and laws of their office — and, if it be of a judicial nature, according to their own discretion. That is the principle on which all public functions are administered. And the mere attempt by the electors to a public office to interfere with the administra- tion of that office, that is, as the established law and custom and the officer's own discretion determine it shall be administered — the mere attempt by the electors to control him, by extorting pledges or otherwise, would be a misdemeanour. Not that the wills and opinions of the constituencies are not to, and do not operate. As we have seen, in choosing from the several candidates, each with a profession of faith in his hat, — and in having a power of re-election or not, at the end, on the average, of every four years, the wills and opinions of the constituencies work to an immense extent, in parliament. And not but that the wisdom, and theory of the constitution, too, do not demand that the wills, an^^ " ' 276 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, and opinions of the electors should be extensively represented there. But the wisdom and theory of the constitution, and the law, as appears by the form of the writ, demand that all three — the wills and opinions of the electors, — those of the representatives, in some slight degree as mere individuals, but more especially as the officers of the gene- ral public — and lastly, as seen in a previous chapter, the opinion of the public itself, when it chooses to express itself, — should all be represented. It were an interesting and difficult problem, which we may hereafter ad- vert to, to ascertain the precise extent to which the wills and opinions of each of these bodies should enter into the work of legislation, so as to form such an admixture as would produce the most favourable results. But for tlie present this much, at least, may be said : that neither should be allowed to dominate, so as to exclude eitlier of the others. Bound and mixed up as the rights, capacities, powers, and duties of the three bodies are, it may be, in theory and in practice, a difficult thing to draw a line, so as to adjust and IN WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS. 277 weigh them against each other properly. This, however, may be said, and taken as a cardinal point, that each of these several rights and powers for the ascertainment of truth, should be allowed to act independently, at least up to a certain time. The constitu- encies are the best representatives of the feelings and wants of society as to legislation, and the best judges of the fitness, general ca- pacities and political principles, of the men who will make good legislators. And, there- fore, the constituency should have, and has, full scope in exercising its functions to that end, and up to that extent. And there its powers do and ought to cease. If it go farther, and by extracting pledges, or by dic- tating, or in any other way interfering in the act of legislation, it interferes in what it has neither the right nor power of dealing with properly. For, as Lord Coke says, the words in the body of the writ, " the aforesaid alfairs," refer to the " certain arduous and ur- *' gent affairs concerning us, and the State, " and defence of our said United Kingdom '* and the Church," mentioned in the preamble 2b 278 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR, — for the consideration of which the Parha- ment is ordered to be held. So that the re- presentatives are to have power to treat and have conferences with others on the affairs of the nation. And to do this, they must have a general and discretionary authority. " Treat- ing and conferring witli" others, implies the use of the judgment, for which the discretion is necessary, and so is implied. " Treating and conferring, with" others, is a process for searchinn- out truth, which cannot be done bv men wliose minds have already been made up for them. The object of the " treating" and " conferring," is to operate on the minds of the several parties to it by tlie mutual commu- nication of arguments, reasons, ideas, senti- ments, and convictions, and so to promote the finding out of truth, and by bringing conflicting parties together to secure mutual concessions, and to keep alive good feelings. It is manifest, then, tliat a power to appoint persons " to treat and hold conferences with" others on given matters, is a power to ap- point such persons with a general authority only, — to act in such matters at their dis- IN WHAT SENSE HE REPRESENTS. 279 cretion — as they think best. And such a power of appomtment can only be lawfully and properly exercised by the appointment of persons with this general authority. For those who are entrusted with a power to ap- point other persons to act in one way — as with a general authority — that is, as the appointees think best — if they appoint them in another, as with a special authority only — as to act as the appointors dictate, — such appointment is void. For the parties appointing only had authority to appoint in one way, and they have appointed in another. All pledges, then, by candidates at the time of their election, to vote for or against a certain measure, or a particular line of policy, and all attempts by the constituency directly to control their votes after they are elected, by calling on them to vote a certain way, are against the writ, and the theory of the constitution. Such transactions submerge the character which the representative holds as the delegate of the whole nation, by that which he holds as the representative of a small part of it. They prefer the opinion, the 280 FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR. wishes, and will of the part, to those of the whole. Whilst, though he be elected by a part of his constituency, as Lord Coke says, it is " to serve for the whole nation." The will and opinion of a constituency, should have their due weight with its representatives, but not to the exclusion of other wills and opi- nions, which the giving and taking pledges effects. And by the writ he is to consent for his constituents and himself more parti- cularly. And if, by giving pledges, he has placed himself in such a position as he must be guilty of a breach of faith somehow, it is manifest that it is more incumbent on him to break his promise to his constituents, which he has no right to enter into, than that he made with the general public, which is imimpeachable, and in every way over-rides that with his electors. But he can do this when acting with a general authority as well as when he has given pledges. But he can- not consent and " treat" for the whole nation in a matter on which he has pre-pledged himself to a part. CHAPTER Xir. THE FUNCTIONS OF A LEGISLATOR. The duties of our legislators, then, are to consult for and carry out what is best, and, what is more, fair for all. What are the requisites, the character, necessary for the performance of those duties ? But first, what are the difficulties which they will have to encounter, and the nature of tlie functions they will have to perform, in the attaining the object for which they are appointed ? Let us suppose a man entering the House of Commons, or the House of Lords (fur, when once he is there, the duties in both are nearly the same), with a proper sense of the importance of his office, and a real desire and determination to act up to and fulfil it. 282 THE FUNCTIOKS OF What are the ohstacles lie would have to encounter ? At the very first outset he will have to join some party. If he Avill maintain the character of an independent member, he must see well that he has that — in position, standing, or talents — which will keep him from becoming ridiculous in it ; and then he will always be in a sort of dignified isolation. His very existence in liis official capacity will be reduced to a state of inanition. The rights, powers, wills, and opinions of his constituents, and of the public, which he was sent there to express, will be unrepresented and lost, by the insignificance to which his isolation reduces him. But if acting with a party, as one of two evenly ba- lanced bodies of men, his vote, and so the will and wishes of his constituents, and of the public, would tell immensely on the deci- sion of affairs. Again, if he join a party, he must consent to circumscribe his operations, regulate his opinion and his conscience by that of a political clique — men of all others the most unscrupulous. These, too, actuated by A LEGISLATOR. 283 political expediency — party prejudices — pri- vate interests and ambitions — motives of ac- tion anything but such as ought to direct men in the performance of offices of trust. And most of these are strangers to him — men with whom he has no other sym- pathies, in whom he has no other faith, than that which the bond of party gives — that is, some great principle — or some great selfish- ness. Yet will they claim, and he will be forced to admit their right, to dictate to him his creed on all questions — that which he is to believe, to speak, and to vote for, and that too under the penalty ol becoming rene- gade, or having to join some other party to which he is entirely opposed — or else of isolating himself. Ihe searching for, and carrying out of truth, in such a position as that, is a difficult thing. For that, indepen- dence of mind and freedom of action are es- sential — and these would seem impossibilities in Parliament. Yet, in proportion as they recede, the attainment of truth becomes dif- ficult, and so the success of his mission is perilled. Who finds he must be one of a *2S4 THE F0NCTIOXS OF polilical party, yet 7vill do what he thinks most wise and just, is in a difficulty indeed. For in the determination of great pohtical questions, men do not act as in other bodies, by the decision of the majority after de- liberation in common, but by the mere wills and ipse dix'its of their leaders — notun- frequently by that of the head of the party alone. All practically become bound by what he savs and does, though none ha\e been consulted, and the majority be dissen- tient. Nor is that the only difficulty that will im- pede him in the search for truth. In the first state of society, all men were equal in all senses of the word bat one, and that was equality as between themselves — in mental and bodily force and energy, and in moral and intellectual qualities. They were equal in their modes of life — in their habits — their material interests, and in tlieir religious be- lief. And when all lived on roots and herbs, as in the first state, — by hunting, as in the next state, — by their flocks and herds, as in the third, — by agriculture, as in the last, A LEGISLATOR. 285 legislation was an easy thing. For the in- terests and habits of all being alike, the same custom or law acted in the same man- ner, and with the same force on each. But civilization progressed, — the people became divided into infinite varieties of orders, classes, habits, feelings, material interests, and religious belief. The citizen and the coun- tryman, the agriculturist and the manufac- turer, the producer and the consumer, the churchman and the dissenter, the aristocrat and the plebeian, the capitalist and the me- chanic, the master and the servant, have all successively presented themselves, as society has developed itself. And all these have, seemingly to a great extent, and all in re- ality no doubt to some extent, interests at variance with each other. Legislation has now become a difficult matter. The same law no longer acts in the same manner, and with the same force, on each class and in- terest of which the people is composed. It becomes impossible to enact any law for the benefit of the mass, without injury to some particular class of it, — for the benefit of 286 THE FUNCTIONS OF some particular portion, without prejudice to that of some of the others, and most fre- quently that of the whole. No sooner does the State, in answer to the claims of the manu- facturing- classes, and of the whole commu- nity not immediately connected with the agricultural interest, propose the withdrawal of the duties on foreign corn, than imme- diately a powerful and very natural opposi- tion, from every grade and class connected with the soil, arises against it. No sooner are plans, in compliance with the demands of the labouring classes and dictates of the moral feelings of society, proposed for the amelioration of the condition of the work- ing masses, by the diminution of the hours of labour for women and children, than immediately solemn protests are made by master manufacturers against the injus- tice and impolicy of interfering between ca- pital and labour. And these are but in- stances of what takes place on every act of legislation on matters of importance. They always touch the interests or prejudices of some class. A LEGISLATOR. 287 But the legislator's duties are to be per- formed — these, like the wants of society, ac- crue fresh every day. And it is amid this chaos of factious interests, big-otcd preju- dices — each jealous and suspicious of its rival, and despising all others — each cla- mouring* for some fresh boon for itself, or complaining of some favour conferred on another — it is amid this perfect hubbub and confusion of selfishness and ignorance, backed by every conceivable argument that political economy, statistics, common sense, can be made to furnish, that he is called on to secure, to contend for, against all, that cold, dry, passionless thing — that which no one cares about, none but the highest intellects can understand, the most exalted minds ap- preciate, that which must, from the necessity of the case, disappoint all — the Public Good. Tt is manifest, then, that one of the first ele- ments of the legislative character, is this love for, sympathy with, and devotion to, the One Great Public — that as against all and everything. And that for success in that cha- racter, courage, steadiness of purpose, and. 288 THE FUNCTIONS OF since it deals with the actual stata of things, discretion, are essential qualities. But there are other — more special qualities demanded of a legislator — of a representa- tive of the people. To some extent, all qualities, sorts of cha- racter, capacities, positions, and men of all kinds of condition and impulse, are wanted in Parliament. The people itself is a compound thing, in which every charac- ter — ahility — and position, co-exist — and that which would represent it, should be so too, or it will not do so. And for working out the well-being and progress of society, it is not one capacity — one sort of talent or gift — or the devotion of energies to one parti- cular direction, that is demanded ; the combination of all the talents — the joint operation of all the energies in all the diflferent directions, is what alone can contribute to its full development. And so it is in the State, whose duty it is to assist society in pre- serving regularity, and developing itself. The man of action and of deliberation — l)rilliant talents and quiet worth — the man of A LEGISLATOR. 289 substance and the mere political adventurer — men of thoug-ht and the sharp practical man — the man of figures and the man of principles — the easy orator and he whose thoughts are larger than his words — the presence in the State of all these, — all the phases of intellect, and all the moral qualities and energies in combination, is what will most contribute to its effectiveness. And more. It demands that each of these qualities and capacities should be represented there completely, and with its utmost energy. And for this, it is necessary that each should be represented by minds exclusively under the domination of some one of these parti- cular gifts, and by energies devoted to some one of these particular points. Where men act in concert, the division of labour — the exclusive devotion of every man to his own particular talent — is as true in the political as in the manufacturing- world. A more complete development, and a greater inten- sity of perfection, is thereby effected in each of the parts, and so the improvement of the whole more fully secured. There must be, 2 c 290 THE FUNCTIONS OF also, minds that can comprehend, supervise, and put together the results so produced by the operation of the yarious sections. But it is manifest that the perfection of the work, when so completed as a whole, must depend upon the perfection of the various parts — and the goodness of a legislative or an administrative measure will depend upon the amount of inquiry and investigation had on it, by the patient and plodding men, in com- mittee, and on the extent to which it has been argued by subtle and powerful intellects in debates. All sorts of talent and intellect then are demanded in the legislature. But, for all that, there are certain funda- mental qualifications that are required from all. And, although the exercise of every sort of talent is useful there, there is still one that is entitled to be, and for the proper per- formance of duties there, necessarily must be, overwhelming on the rest. That is the strictly leaislative character — the fundamental ele- ment of which is of a judicial nature. The fluent speaker, the ready debater, the powerful orator, the blind supporter of power A LEGISLATOR. 291 and authority, and the noisy advocate of po- pular rights, are all useful in, and all contri- bute to the success of, Parliament. But only so far as they are kept within their pro- per sphere, and subjected to the true genius of the body of which they form a part. The moment these qualities become the promi- nent features of a Parliament, its proper character is gone. The work of legislation is a matter of reason and judgment, not of wit, declamation, or even of clever argu- ment. They are useful as ingredients, — to play secondary parts — but only as such. We are all by far too apt to suppose that a man's success as a legislator depends upon capacity for speaking — and constituencies and the public are too ready to believe, that their interests are best or only to be for- warded by declaimers. The fundamental element of the legis- lative character, is the judicial one. The chief duty of a representative in parliament, is to ascertain and decide how far there is an ac- tual want of legislation on any point, whether the proposed measure comes up to that 292 THE FUNCTIONS OF want, how far it is fairly adjusted to meet the claims of rival interests and parties — to weigh the evidence of facts, balance the force of conflicting arguments, precipitate the ti*utli from the mass of rubbish in which it lies embedded. And in so doing- he acts strictly as a judge. No doubt, with some, more particularly the leading- supporters and opposers of a measure, the judicial functions are rendered subservient to those of the advocate. They come into the house determined to support one side, rather than to listen to both ; and by the tacit understanding of those around them, and by their o\vn unexpressed assent, they are generally listened to and taken to be advocates, rather than judges, in the ques- tion. And on more important measures, those that by the extent to which they aifect the interests or prejudices of society have already elicited, in public and private, every argument for and against it — the great bulk of men in Parliament take their seats with their minds already made up upon. But they act as judges in it, for all that ; and the A LEGISLATOR. 293 real character in which they sit there, is not altered by the false way in which they use their authority. And for the proper performance of the functions of a judge, or of a legislator, the first requisite is a knowledge of the specific facts relating to, and involved in, the subject on which he is adjudicating or legislating. And not that mere superficial acquaintance with one or a few facts of the case, that so currently passes for a general knowledge of a subject ; but such an extended, clear, and definite acquaintance with them all, and to such an extent as will enable him to view them at once — in their full integrity, and empower him to remodel, regulate, and or- ganise them — that is, legislate or adju- dicate on them properly. Not that legisla- tors need keep, or could keep, their minds stored with all the knowledge requisite for the performance of their functions. In this re- spect they are like the judges or jury of the courts of law, or rather like both. The facts of each case are submitted to them, by the re- ports of the Commissions of, and Committees 2 c 2 294 THE FUNCTIONS OF of, Inquiry, and the official documents re- turned, and the arguments in each case are supphed by the speakers on each side of the question, and then they are called on to put all the facts and arguments together and decide. But the work of a member of parliament, and the industry required of him, is immense, for all that. In 1850, the number of public general bills brought in the Lower House was more than one hundred and fifty, embracing every conceivable variety of subject; and one hundred and sixteen became law. Besides these, one hundred and twelve Local and Per- sonal Acts, and eighteen Piivate Bills, were consummated. The Debates in Parliament of that year extend over six volumes quarto, of thirteen hundred pages of closely printed double columns each. The Official Docu- ments or Parliamentary Papers, Returned in the same period, extended over twenty-three large folios, and the reports taken before committees extend over fifteen large folios, of nearly a thousand pages each. And during the same session, the House of Commons «at on the average of eight hours a day, and A LEGISLATOR. 295 twenty days in the month. One sees at once, then, that the functions of a legislator are strictly of a business-like, — even of a labo- rious character. No doubt that on most of the discussions of, and divisions on, these mea- sures, but a small portion of the house was present. Probably by very many, if not by most, of the members of each house, a great part of the Parliamentary Papers, and of the Reports of the Commissions and Committees, were unread. And no doubt, perhaps, but that by a sort of tacit adoption of the principle of the division of labour, rendered necessary by the enormous amount of business that has to be got through, the work of legislation, on most matters of secondary importance, affect- ing the local or partial interests of the commu- nity, in each house, is left by the house to those members who are more particularly con- nected with it by connexion, habits, taste, or the interest which they, or their constituency, have in it. And, in point of fact, perhaps, it is not necessary that the whole house should de- vote itself to all the questions that come before it. But there must be limits to this mode of 296 THE FUNCTIONS OF apportioning out the work of the legislative body to the small sections of it, and it is a practice that has already become an abuse. Bills affecting important interests and ques- tions, frequently are lost by there being no house at the second reading. And a far greater number are improvidently, and, not unfrequently, dishonestly carried, or thrown out, by majorities composed of men ignorant of the merits of the case, got together by the personal intercession of friends, or driven down by the whippers-in. Such measures fall into the hands of small selfish parties, sometimes even into those of energetic indi- viduals, bv whom the interest of the commu- nity at large is always lost sight of, and with whom the party least entitled too often tri- umphs. And the root of this evil, which operates so powerfully in other ways be- sides, is, the neglect by so large a number of the house of the duties of their office. These may be arduous — laborious, perhaps — but still they are duties, and they have undertaken them. And the extent to which a member will excel as such, and realise the true cha- A LEGISLATOR. 297 racter of his office, mainly depends upon the number of questions with which he makes himself acquainted — the extent to which he investigates them — the number of blue books he carefully reads, and divisions he attends. That is, on his industry. And this if he take no part in the debate. For the powers of argument are by no means identical with those of judgment, and a man may be well able to support one side of the question without being able to comprehend it as a whole — as he may well give a very good vote without being able to say a word on it. The third great essential for a judge or legislator, is, judicial capacity, that is, such a sort of intellect as will be par- ticularly called into requisition by those duties he has to perform. The most exten- sive information of the facts of a case is fre- quently lost, by inability to put them together. The special properties of the judicial mind are not necessarily incident to other general powers. We frequently see men with an extensive knowledge of law — of cases and practice, who make bad judges, — men, 298 THE FUNCTIONS OF too, in daily life, possessed of a vast amount of information and talents, yet devoid of judgment and discretion. In some minds the judicial properties are, perhaps, a na- tural gift. Some men, when once they have mastered the facts of a matter, however com- plicated, can intuitively drop upon the truth of it — put their finger upon the point on which all turns, and solve it by its bearing with the res^* But this, as it is a rare property, so is it a dangerous one, and sure to mislead, unless when used by men of the highest intelligence and in the constant use of their judicial powers, and perfectly free from all undue bias. The true means of arriving at truth is by a process — by one step on another. In this — compilation of facts according to their natural order — concoction in bring- ing together truths already established for the producing of new truths — comparison and appreciation, in weighing conflicting facts and arguments against each other — * Any one who has frequented the courts of law of the present day, will recognize Mr. Baron Alderson and Mr. Justice Cresswell, as men of this stamp of mind. A LEGISLATOR. 290 analysis and induction, in getting out truths — all, altogether, or each to a certain degree, are the powers most brought into play. And the extent to which a member of Parliament, a legislator, will be able to per- form his functions as such, as one sitting in judgment on the aftairs of the nation, will depend upon the extent to which he is pos- sessed of some or of all of these capacities. And the degree to which he will be pos- sessed of these properties will depend upon the natural construction of his mind, and upon the amount to which he has practised it in such matters. Whatever be his natural gifts, without development by use they will be as nothing. Whilst each is possessed of reason- ing faculties to some extent, and, like all other organs, by practice and constant use, these be- come developed, strengthened and powerful, even though puny at first. There are other qualifications that are demanded of a legis- lator, other things to be considered ; but as his chief functions consist in searching for the truth of the most profound and com- plicated of all matters — political ones — it is 300 THE FUNCTIONS OF manifest, that to have had one's mind habi- tuated to laborious and difficult investi- gation, either by practice as a member of the legislature, or as a magistrate, or by extensive operations in business, must always be taken as an important qualification. A last great quality for a legislator is inte- grity. One, too, more wanted than might be supposed. A member of parliament is one that has incessantly to decide in causes in which he himself is so interested. Most of the ques- tions of the day, somehow or other, touch the political prejudices, opinions, or religious belief of those who have to legislate on them. For, as we have before seen, they never be- come great questions, or excite much atten- tion, unless they do aftect the passions or interests of society. Even secondary ques- tions too frequently have the same tendency. And if there is a position demanding the most determined exercise of the highest moral powers, and of the deepest intellectual discernment, in combination, it is that of a man sitting as judge in his own cause. The Common Law of England, and that of all A LEGISLATOR. 301 other civilized countries, does not even trust a man in such a position. The slij^htest scintilla of pecuniary interest in the cause, de facto, incapacitates a judge from acting. And it is too mean and narrow a view of hu- man nature, to suppose that the pecuniary are the only interests which exercise an undue bias on men's minds. Political influences — party prejudices — as they are of a less im- pure nature so are they of a more constant operation, and therefore manifestly more dangerous to truth, in the mind of the judge. A member of the House of Commons, too, is a judge at the will of a master. As a candidate he may refuse to pledge himself on the hustings, and as representative de- cline the invitation of his constituency to explain his vote or resign. But he never can escape the prospect of the coming Election. — He is always more or less between the Scylla and Charybdis of Interest and Duty. To judge ingenuously on a matter in which our prejudices, opinions, and selfish interests, are deeply concerned, is difficult — to judge fearlessly under an arbitrary and selfish mas- 2d 302 THE FUNCTIONS OF ter is still more so — but in the exercise of the functions of our legislators both these concur. And that too in a matter, in which the greatest of all interests, that of society, is at stake. Such, then, are the chief difficulties which occur in the performance of the functions of a legislator, and the qualifications of mind necessary for overcoming them. There are others no doubt — and it may well be that these are not practically felt by many of those who act as legislators. But they exist for all that — the requirements of an office are not bordered in by the perceptive powers of those who thrust themselves into it. It may well be that it is from a want of that sen- sibility due to the high functions they un- dertake, and from a want of that ca})acity required for those difficulties into which they have put themselves, that they are enabled not to feel them. And it is, perhaps, because they do not feel them, that faction, sectarian spirit, individual ambition, and, more than all, littleness and indifference dominate, where love of truth, hii>h-mindedness, and A LEGISLATOR. 303 industry should alone prevail. It is singu- larly astonishing how small a figure the legislator makes even now-a-days — that his is a character that arouses so little am- bition in th^ political world. Men who, with titles and fortune already earned for them, feel no such vulgar incentives to exertion, think it a noble thing to be fore- most in faction — the influential hangers on of the ministry — yet hold it for little to give good laws to society. It is, that no direct power comes with it — that it brings not that definite position which place gives, or the noisy reputation which success- ful opposition confers. And that again is be- cause in parliament men like better to be, and are more capable of being, amused by decla- mation and personalities, than by wide views and great sympathies. And because, too, the public is more taken with a violent and noisy assertion of its wants — its rights — its privileges, than by real acts of legislation and government in its favour. We daily see men of all parties, who never introduce, and who, perhaps, therefore, have not the capa- 304 THE FUNCTIONS OF city or the inclination for introducing bill& themselves-, yet make it a boast to carp and cavil at what others do, to ingratiate them- selves with the people. But though they may win the passing applause of the disaffected^ those who would found a lasting — a broad reputation — must not build there. Fame is the gratitude of society — to be everlasting, the boon must be everlasting too. As so- ciety never dies, so a good law stamped upon it is undying also. That too is a thing *' which neither moth nor rust corrupt, " nor thieves break in and steal.'* And though the book wherein it is written, like the body of him who wrote it, perishes, the law itself, like the spirit, lives on. The Greeks of old knew this, and held the law- giver, the mere orator, and the demagogue, eacli at his proper estimate. And with the Romans too, one good law, stamped with the name of its promulgator, stood a whole family for generations in reputation. Alfred's laws have outlived Arthur's feats of arms. Magna ChiU'ta, the Statute of Quia Emp- tores, and the Bill of Rights, are still A LEGISLATOR. 305 operating profoundly upon society, though nothing remains of all the petty feelings and factions which surrounded their birth. And the wit and eloquence of Fox, Burke, and Sheridan, have j^assed away, but the man they laughed at — by the Abolition of the Slave Trade, and the Emancipation of the Slaves — has exercised that influence on the destiny of a portion of the human race that shall never perish. The legislative func- tions of a member of parliament, as they form the real special character in which he sits there, so are they those a devotion to which is most sure to yield that for which all great minds, and none but great minds, toil, the approbation of society — reputation — fame. And the discovery of those laws by which society may be best moved, in order and to its great end, as it is that science in which society is most interested, and for which the grandest motives, the highest powers, are de- manded, so is society impelled, by the force of truth, to award to triumphs in that sci- ence its highest — its most lasting rewards. 2 D 2 COLLUSION. What I proposed at the outset of this inquiiy was, " to pass under survey and con- " templation the events that have transph'ed *' in this country within the last thirty years — " to try if there were not some truths, some *' principles to be found, which might serve to " explain the past and to enhghten the future." I know that I have not obtained all the truths that are to be found in the events I speak of. And I fear that what I have effected has but as little come up to the just expectations of my readers as to my own aspirations and proposals. But as then, so now, this much, at least, may be said — " That the inquiry has been an important " one ; and if the subject itself has in any " way been found capable of being submitted " to the process proposed, and the powers " that have been brought to bear on it have, " in any degree, been sufficient for the task, " some good may have been done. And if " not, it were well to have pointed out the " spot where treasure might be found, though ^' I myself have failed to discover it." NOTES. (Note a). — In 1821 nineteen petitions in favour of reform ■were presented to the House of Commons ; in 1822, twelve ; in 1823, twenty-nine ; and during the six following years not one. (Note b). — Lord Fitzwilliam's government, as Lord Lieu- tenant of Ireland, broke up on the Catholic question in 1804. Mr. Pitt's government split on the same ground in 1801. The Ministry formed on his death fell on the same point ; it then became an open question, but the parliament elected in 1807 de- cided on taking the question into consideration by a majority of eighty-two. See Mr. Peel's speech in 1829, The Annual Register for 1829, page 16. (Note c a). — This note has been inserted in error. (Note c). — See a very good article on Mr. Huskisson in the Bioffiapftie Universelle, and a memoir attached to his speeches, as published by Mr. Murray in 1831, in 3 vols. (Note d). — On the 1st of March, 1827, he brought forward a measure for admitting foreign corn at a duty of one shilling per quarter, when the average was seventy shillings a quarter, and a graduated scale which Avould make corn range between fifty-five shillings a quarter and sixty -five, ; the second reading of which was carried by a majority of 243 to 78. But it was subsequently lost in the House of Lords on the motion of the Duke of Wel- lington. As Foreign Secretary, his recognition of the South American republics, and the assistance he gave to the Portu- guese, were bold and masterly measures. 308 NOTES. (Note e). — Lord Grey's ministrj', in 1833, was as much en- dangered by the pressure of his friends behind as by his enemies before. (Note f ). — There can be no doubt that Lord Stanley's party have taken up ditferent grounds as to Protection, since they have been in office, to what they did in opposition. (Note g). — On the death of Lord Liverpool, Mr. Canning be- ing called on to form a ministry, and finding himself deserted by his former friends — Mr. Peel and the Duke of Wellington— was compelled to recruit his cabinet with some of the Reform party — the Marquis of Lansdo^vne and others. In the Commons, May the 4th, Mr. Peel wanted to know — seeing the new allies of government — " if Parliamentary Reform were to be an open ques- tion, and to be supported by part of the ministry." And Lord Goderich, in the Hotise of Lords, on May 2, 1829, in answer to a similar attack, said, " that the changes which had taken place were to be ascribed, not to the muiisters who had remained, but to those who had fallen off." (Noteh). — In his letter to the Electors of Tamworth on his taking office in 1834, he says, " I say at once that I will not ac- cept power on the condition of declaring myself an apostate from the principles on which I have heretofore acted — at the same time, I will never admit that I have been, either before or after the Reform Bill, the defender of abuses, or the enemy of judi- cious reforms. I appeal with confidence, to the denial of the charge, to the part I took in the great question of Currency — in the Consolidation and Amendment of the Criminal Law." (Note i). — In what was called the Reform Movement there was, for eighteen months, a most complete combination of every shade and character of Liberalism. The old Whig aristocracy were completely identified with Radicals of the most Demo- cratic views. It was then that the letter of Lord John Russell to Manchester — about which so much has been said — was written. (Note k).— The Whig party in 1831-1833, boasted that the Conservative cause was ruined for ever by the Reform Bill, and what took place on it — and many of the Conservative parly NOTES. 309 imagined so too. One of the great actions of Sir Robert Peel's life was the reforming and remodelling that parly under the title of the Conservatives. (Note 1). — This is M. Guizot's remark. (Note o). — This is no doubt true in the whole — but not so widely true as many people suppose. In the fine arts, the Greeks surpassed us in architecture, sculpture, general ornament, and decoration, though we have surpassed them in painting. The Roman main roads, traversing in straight lines nearly the whole of Europe right up to Scotland and North Germany, formed of solid brickwork or stonework, as mere works sur- passed our railways, though the speed obtained on the latter, by ihe aid of science, surpasses anything that they could have imagined. 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