“Fancy open and unfenced expanses of stunted-looking, scrubby

bushes, seldom rising two feet above the surface, planted in rows

upon the summit of deep furrow ridges, and fastened with great

care to low fence-like lines of espaliers, which run in unbroken

ranks from one end of the huge fields to the other. These

espaliers or lathes are cuttings of the walnut-trees around, and

the tendrils of the vine are attached to the horizontally running

slopes with withes, or thongs of bark. It is curious to observe

the vigilant pains and attention with which every twig has been

supported without being trained, and how things are arranged, so

as to give every cluster as fair a chance as possible of a goodly

allowance of sun. Such, then, is the general appearance of

matters; but it is by no means perfectly uniform. Now and then you

find a patch of vines unsupported, drooping, and straggling, and

sprawling, and intertwisting their branches like beds of snakes;

and again, you come into the district of a new species of bush, a

thicker, stouter affair, a grenadier vine, growing to at least six

feet, and supported by a corresponding stake. But the low,

two-feet dwarfs are invariably the great wine-givers. If ever you

want to see a homily, not read, but grown by nature, against

trusting to appearances, go to Medoc and study the vines. Walk and

gaze, until you come to the most shabby, stunted, weazened,

scrubby, dwarfish expanse of bushes, ignominiously bound neck and

crop to the espaliers, like a man on the rack—these utterly poor,

starved, and meagre-looking growths, allowing, as they do, the

gravelly soil to show in bald patches of grey shingle through the

straggling branches,—these contemptible-looking shrubs, like

paralysed and withered raspberries, it is which produce the most

priceless, and the most inimitably-flavoured wines. Such are the

vines that grow Chateau Margaux at half-a-sovereign the bottle.

The grapes themselves are equally unpromising. If you saw a bunch

in Covent Garden, you would turn from them with the notion that

the fruiterer was trying to do his customer with over-ripe black

currants. Lance’s soul would take no joy in them, and no sculptor

in his senses would place such meagre bunches in the hands and

over the open mouths of his Nymphs, his Bacchantes, or his Fauns.

Take heed, then, by the lesson, and beware of judging of the

nature of either men or grapes by their looks. Meantime, let us

continue our survey of the country. No fences or ditches you

see—the ground is too precious to be lost in such vanities—only,

you observe from time to time a rudely curved stake stuck in the

ground, and indicating the limits of properties. Along either side

of the road the vines extend, utterly unprotected. No raspers, no

ha-ha’s, no fierce denunciations of trespassers, no polite notices

of spring-guns and steel-traps constantly in a state of

high-go-offism—only, where the grapes are ripening, the people lay

prickly branches along the wayside to keep the dogs, foraging for

partridges among the espaliers, from taking a refreshing mouthful

from the clusters as they pass; for it seems to be a fact, that

everybody, every beast, and every bird, whatever may be his, her,

or its nature in other parts of the world, when brought amongst

grapes, eats grapes. As for the peasants, their appetite for

grapes is perfectly preposterous. Unlike the surfeit-sickened

grocer’s boys, who, after the first week, loathe figs, and turn

poorly whenever sugar candy is hinted at, the love of grapes

appears literally to grow by what it feeds on. Every garden is

full of table vines. The people eat grapes with breakfast, lunch,

dinner, and supper. The labourer plods along the road munching a

cluster. The child in its mother’s arms is lugging away with its

toothless gums at a bleeding bunch; while, as for the vintagers,

male and female, in the less important plantations, heaven only

knows where the masses of grapes go to, which they devour,

labouring incessantly at the _metier_, as they do, from dawn till

sunset.”

In all this, however, we cannot say that we detect any matter for

surprise. The grape season lasts only for a short period; and we have

observed symptoms of a similarly universal appetite in this country when

gooseberries are at their perfection. Nay, we shall venture to say that

Mr Reach himself would cut no indifferent figure in a garden where the

honeyblobs, hairy-yellows, and bloody-captains were abundant. As for the

consumption by the vintagers and pressmen, that can be accounted for on

the same principle which forbids the muzzling of the ox while treading

out the corn; but we never enter willingly into such details, being

satisfied that, with regard to many things edible, potable, and

culinary, it is imprudent to be too curious in investigation. We eat and

drink in confidence, as our fathers did before us, trusting that what

harmed not them can do us no manner of injury; and we do not feel at all

grateful to those gentlemen who think it necessary to go out of their

way for the purpose of presenting as with detailed accounts of the

minutiæ of the vinous manufacture.

It is, we think, a peculiar feature of the wines of the Bordelais, that

you will rarely, if ever, find a connoisseur who will confess an

undivided and exclusive attachment to any one particular growth. We fear

that the claret-drinker has much of the libertine in his disposition. He

flits from vineyard to vineyard, without being able to fix his

affections once and for ever. Such pleasant fickleness is not akin to

the downright English spirit, and therefore perhaps it is that

Englishmen generally prefer the heavy Portuguese drench, to the lively

Gallican nectar. In London it is not uncommon to hear a man swearing by

Barclay and Perkins, in almost feudal opposition to Meux. Many would

rather be tee-totallers than defile their throats with other beer than

that of Hanbury; and the partisans of Bass stand in deadly opposition to

those who espouse the cause of Allsopp. So on the Rhine, men are bigoted

to their vineyards. One individual approaches you, as Uhland beautifully

remarks in the best of his romantic ballads,—

“With a flask of Asmannshauser

In each pocket of his trowser,”

and vows, by the memory of Herrmann, and by that of Brennus, who first

brought the vine from Italy, that the red fluid is incomparably superior

to the pale. With a scornful laugh the adherent of Steinberger listens

to the boast, and pours into his glass a beverage which scents the room

like a dozen nosegays. A fiery devotee of Neiersteiner stands up—or

rather tries to do so, if he is deep in his third bottle—for the credit

of his pet vintage; and a priest, addicted to Liebfrauen-milch, in vain

attempts to end the controversy by descanting upon the sanctity of his

liquor. In Nuremberg we have witnessed several serious rows on the

subject of the superiority of beer. A hot contest had been going on for

some time as to the merits of the respective browsts of “right Bavarian”

at the Himmelsleiter and the Jammer-thal, the two most considerable

beer-taverns in Germany; until at last—this was in ’48—we of the

Himmelsleiter being no longer able to stand the _outrecuidance_ of our

opponents, who were notoriously of the democratic party, marched upon

them, and, under cover of political principle, smashed the glasses, and

set several casks of the obnoxious fluid abroach. This is bare matter of

fact; but if any gentleman is sceptical as to the possibility of such a

movement, we may as well remind him that the only serious rising which

took place in Bavaria originated from a proposed impost of an

infinitesimal duty upon beer. Were England as Bavaria is, the

continuance of the malt-tax would have led to a crisis of the most

alarming description—and, after all, we cannot help thinking that the

name of Hampden would now have been held in higher estimation, had he

stood forward in the cause of his country’s beer, instead of being the

opponent of a miserable tax, which weighed only upon men of his own

condition.

But we must not become political. So, gentlemen, “the memory of Hampden”

in any kind of beer you choose, from the smallest to the stiffest;—and

now to our present subject. We are very sorry indeed to observe that the

taste in champagne—a wine which we hold in much reverence—is becoming

hideously depraved in this country. We do not speak merely of

England—England can look after herself, and Cyrus Redding is a safe

monitor on such subjects, who, we trust, will make strong head against

national depreciation. Sparkling Hock and petillating Moselle may be

tolerated, though we do not like them; and we have no objection to St

Peray as an agreeable companion to a cutlet. But, latterly, some

superlative trash has made its appearance among us under such names as

the Ruby and the Garnet; and we would earnestly recommend all good

Christians who have a regard for their stomachs to avoid these. The fact

is, that there is no tolerable medium in the quality of the wines of

Champagne. Either they are first-rate, in order to secure which you had

best stick to the established names, or they are not one whit preferable

to Perry. A conservative taste in wines is likely to be the most

correct. Adhere to the ancient vineyards, and have nothing to do with

newfangled fluids, however puffed or recommended. If you want to know

how these are made, listen to Mr Reach, whose fine palate enabled him at

once to detect the slightest touch of adulteration. Young men are apt to

be led astray by the splendour of novel names, and to believe in the

possibility of the discovery of new vineyards. They cannot resist an

imposition, if it is paraded before them with proper pomp and dignity.

Some years ago a nondescript species of liquor, bad enough to perpetuate

the cholera in a province, was received with considerable approbation,

because it bore the high-sounding name of “Œil de Montmorenci.” We

always distrust in wines those poetical and chivalresque titles. From

this condemnation, however, we would specially exclude “Beaujolais de

Fleury,” a delicious liquor, which might have beseemed the cup of old

King Réné of Provence. But your Œil de Montmorencis, your Chateau

Chastelheraults, and your Sang de St Simeons, with other similar

ptisans, are neither more nor less than the concoction of those

ingenious troubadours, the wine-fabricators of Cette.

“I said that it was good—good for our stomachs—to see no English

bunting at Cette. The reason is, that Cette is a great manufacturing

place, and that what they manufacture there is neither cotton nor

wool, Perigord pies nor Rheims biscuits, but wine. ‘_Içi_,’ will a

Cette industrial write with the greatest coolness over his Porte

Cochère—‘_Içi on fabrique des vins._’ All the wines in the world,

indeed, are made in Cette. You have only to give an order for

Johannisberg or Tokay—nay, for all I know, for the Falernian of the

Romans, or the nectar of the gods—and the Cette manufacturers will

promptly supply you. They are great chemists, these gentlemen, and

have brought the noble art of adulteration to a perfection which would

make our own mere logwood and sloe-juice practitioners pale and wan

with envy. But the great trade of the place is not so much

adulterating as concocting wine. Cette is well situated for this

notable manufacture. The wines of southern Spain are brought by

coasters from Barcelona and Valencia. The inferior Bordeaux growths

come pouring from the Garonne by the Canal du Midi; and the hot and

fiery Rhone wines are floated along the chain of etangs and canals

from Beaucaire. With all these raw materials, and, of course, a

chemical laboratory to boot, it would be hard if the clever folks of

Cette could not turn out a very good imitation of any wine in demand.

They will doctor you up bad Bordeaux with violet powders and rough

cider—colour it with cochineal and turnsole, and outswear creation

that it is precious Chateau Margaux, vintage of ’25. Champagne, of

course, they make by hogsheads. Do you wish sweet liqueur wines from

Italy and the Levant? The Cette people will mingle old Rhone wines

with boiled sweet wines from the neighbourhood of Lunel, and charge

you any price per bottle. Port, sherry, and Madeira, of course, are

fabricated in abundance with any sort of bad, cheap wine and brandy,

for a stock, and with half the concoctions in a druggist’s shop for

seasoning. Cette, in fact, is the very capital and emporium of the

tricks and rascalities of the wine-trade; and it supplies almost all

the Brazils, and a great proportion of the northern European nations,

with their after-dinner drinks. To the grateful Yankees it sends out

thousands of tons of Ay and Moet; besides no end of Johannisberg,

Hermitage, and Chateau Margaux—the fine qualities and dainty aroma of

which are highly prized by the Transatlantic amateurs. The Dutch flag

fluttered plentifully in the harbour, so that I presume Mynheer is a

customer to the Cette industrials—or, at all events, he helps in the

distribution of their wares. The old French West Indian colonies also

patronise their ingenious countrymen of Cette; and Russian magnates

get drunk on Chambertin and Romanee Conte, made of low Rhone and low

Burgundy brewages, eked out by the contents of the graduated vial. I

fear, however, that we do come in—in the matter of ‘fine golden

sherries, at 22s. 9½d. a dozen,’ or ‘peculiar old-crusted port, at 1s.

9d.’—for a share of the Cette manufactures; and it is very probable

that after the wine is fabricated upon the shores of the

Mediterranean, it is still further improved upon the banks of the

Thames.”

We wish that these remarks could be made practically useful to that

class of men who give dinners, and gabble about their wines. Nothing is,

to our mind, more disgusting than the conduct of an Amphytrion who

accompanies the introduction of each bottle by an apocryphal averment as

to its age, coupled with a minute account of the manner in which it came

into his possession—he having, in nine cases out of ten, purchased it at

a sale. Sometimes the man goes further, and volunteers a statement of

its price. Now this is, to say the very least of it, a mark of the worst

possible breeding. No guest, with a palate to his mouth, will relish the

wine any better, because the ninny-hammer who gives it declares that it

cost him seven guineas a dozen. We don’t want to know from an

entertainer, unless he be a tavern-keeper, the absolute cost of his

victuals. Just fancy Lucullus, in the saloon of Apollo, recounting the

items of his repast—“Flaccus, my friend, those oysters which you are

devouring with so much gusto cost ten sestertii a-piece. Fabius, my fine

fellow, that dish of thrushes which you have just swallowed was not got

for nothing—it cost me a whole sestertium. Peg away, Plancus, at the

lampreys! May Pluto seize me if a dozen of them are not worth a

tribune’s salary. You like the Falernian, Furius? Ay—that’s right Anno

Urbis 521—I bought it at Sylla’s sale. It just cost me its weight in

silver. Davus, you dog! bring another amphora with the red seal—the same

that we got from the cellars of Mithridates. Here’s that, O conscript

fathers, which will make the cockles of your hearts rejoice!” Now, who

will tell us that such conversation, which would be revolting even from

a Lucullus, ought to be tolerated from the lips of some pert

whippersnapper, who, ten years ago, would have been thankful for a

bumper of Bucellas after a repast upon fried liver? We are serious in

saying that it is full time to put a stop to such a nuisance, which is

more common than many people would believe; and perhaps the easiest way

of doing so is by doggedly maintaining that each bottle is corked. After

half-a-dozen of the famous vintage have been opened, and pronounced

undrinkable, the odds are that you will hear nothing more for the rest

of the evening on the subject of liquor. Your suggestion as to a tumbler

will be received with grateful humility, and thus you will not only

receive the applause of your fellow-guests, but the approbation of your

own stomach and conscience, both then and on the following morning.

There are many points connected with dinner-giving—dinner-taking

belonging to a different branch of ethics—which deserve mature

consideration. If you are not a man of large fortune, you must perforce

study economy. We presume that you have in your cellar a certain limited

portion of really good wine, such as will make glad the heart of man,

and leave no vestige of a headache; but you cannot afford, and you

certainly ought not to bestow, that indiscriminately. Good taste in wine

is, like good taste in pictures, and good taste in poetry, by no means a

common gift. Every man wishes to be thought to possess it; but, in

reality, the number of those who have the gift of the “geschmack,” as

the Germans term the faculty, is but few. Now it would evidently be the

height of extravagance were you to throw away first-rate wine upon men

who cannot appreciate it. Who, in the possession of his senses, would

dream of feeding pigs on pine-apples? And as, in this wicked world, we

are all of us occasionally compelled to give dinners to men, who, though

excellent creatures in other respects, are utterly deficient in the

finer sensations of our being, we cannot, for the life of us, see why

they should be treated contrary to the bent of their organisation. Give

them toddy, and they are supremely happy. Why place before them Lafitte,

which they are sure to swallow in total ignorance of its qualities, very

likely commending it as good “fresh claret,” and expressing their

opinion that such wine is better from the wood than the bottle? Keep

your real good liquor for such men as are capable of understanding it.

There is no higher treat than to form one of a party of six, all people

of first-rate intelligence, true, generous, clarety souls, when the best

of the vintages of Bordeaux is circulating at the board. No man talks of

the wine—he would as soon think of commending the air because it was

wholesome, or the sun because it gave him warmth. They drink it with a

quiet gusto and silent enjoyment, which prove that it is just the thing;

and no impertinent remonstrance is made when the bell is pulled, until

taste, which your true claret-drinker never disobeys, simultaneously

indicates to the party that they have had a proper allowance. Indeed,

you will almost never find a thorough gentleman, who has been properly

educated in claret, committing any excess. Port sends people to the

drawing-room with flushed faces, husky voices, and staring eyes, bearing

evident marks upon them of having partaken of the cup of Circe. Claret

merely fosters the kindlier qualities, and brings out in strong relief

the attributes of the gentleman and the scholar.

We should have liked, had time permitted, to have transcribed one or two

of Mr Reach’s sketches of scenery, especially his description of the

Landes, where, instead of wine, men gather a harvest of resin, and where

the shepherds imitate the crane, by walking perpetually upon stilts. We

already possessed some knowledge of that singular region from the

writings of George Sand, but Mr Reach’s description is more simple, and

certainly more easily realised. His account also of Pau, and its

society, and the neighbouring scenery, is remarkably good; but so is the

book generally, and therefore we need not particularise. Only, as we are

bound to discharge the critical function with impartiality, and as we

are rather in a severe mood, this not being one of our claret days, we

take leave to say that the legends which he has engrafted are by far the

least valuable portion of the volume. Everybody who knows anything of

modern bookmaking, must be aware that such tales are entirely

attributable to the fertile genius of the author; for we would as soon

believe in the discovery of a buried treasure, as in the existence of

those grey-haired guides, veteran smugglers, and antique boatmen, who

are invariably brought forward as the Homeridæ or recounters of floating

tradition. We have travelled a good deal in different parts of the

world, and seen as much of that kind of society as our neighbours; but

we can safely aver that we never yet met with a local Sinbad who had

anything to tell worth the hearing. If an author wants the materials of

romance, the best place that he can frequent is a commercial traveller’s

room. We have been privileged to hear in such social circles more

marvels than would furnish forth a whole library of romance, with this

additional advantage, that the narrator of the tale, whether it referred

to love or war, was invariably its principal hero.

But we are now rapidly approaching the limits of our paper, and must

break off. Those who have a mind to know something of the south of

France—of that strange old place, Aigues-Mortes, from which the

Crusaders once embarked for Palestine, but which is now almost entirely

deserted, and left like a mouldering wreck in the midst of the marshes

that surround it—of Nismes, with its remains of Roman greatness and

power—and of Languedoc, the name of which province is more inspiring

than its actual appearance—will do well to consult this lively and

agreeable volume. But beyond the district of the vine we are determined

not to journey now. Fair, we doubt not, are the vineyards in this

beautiful spring—fair, at least, in the eye of the poet who believes in

the promise of their buds. With us the lilacs and the laburnums are

scarce yet expanding their blossoms; but it is a beautiful and a

consoling thought that, within the circle of Bordeaux, thousands and

thousands of vines are just now bursting into blossom, to alleviate the

toils and cheer the hearts of the claret-drinkers of this and perchance

of the next generation. May the year be ever famous in the annals of

legitimate thirst! And with this devout aspiration, which we doubt not

will be echoed by many good fellows and true, we take our leave of Mr

Reach, thanking him for the amusement and information we have derived

from the perusal of his pleasant book.

THE DEMOCRATIC CONFEDERACY.

Although the precise period for the dissolution of Parliament is not yet

known, we hear, on every side, the hum of political preparation. Members

who had confidently reckoned on a longer lease of their seats, are

trying to reconcile past votes with the present temper of their

constituents, and, where they cannot openly vindicate their conduct,

suggesting pleas in palliation. The over-timorous, and those who feel

that they have no longer a chance of office, are issuing valedictory

addresses, expressive of their preference of private life to the turmoil

of a public career. Some are recanting former professions—others

becoming bolder and more determined in their views. It is natural that

such should be the case. The contest is not now solely between Whig and

Tory, or even between Free-Trader and Protectionist. It has, owing to

the occurrences of the last few months, assumed a more portentous

aspect. Since his resignation, if we may not assume an earlier date,

Lord John Russell has entered into the most close and intimate relations

with the Manchester party, whose confession of political faith, as they

themselves hardly scruple to avow, falls very little short of

Republicanism. No sooner was he in opposition than he hastened to take

counsel with Mr Cobden. The triumvirate was completed by the adhesion of

Sir James Graham, a man who, having exhausted every possible form of

moderate opinion, having played more parts in his day than the

imagination of Autolycus could conceive, has assumed in his advanced

years the character of an uncompromising democrat. Under Lord John

Russell, Whiggery had lost its power. He could no longer command the

suffrages, because he did not avow the opinions of the fiercer Liberal

party, and because, so long as he remained allied with and recognised by

the Whig aristocracy, he could not conciliate the chiefs and leaders of

the democracy. He did not even understand the traditions of his own

party—at all events, he has forgotten them for wellnigh twenty years.

However much the Whigs, in former times, may, for their own purposes,

have appeared to tamper with the Constitution, they were at least

understood to be in nowise the advocates of what is now called perpetual

progress. They were not constantly innovating, for innovation’s sake—or

altering for the sake of securing a little temporary popularity. But

Lord John Russell can no more abstain from experiment than a chemical

lecturer. Partly from natural propensity, and partly from political

exigencies, which he considered himself compelled to meet adroitly, in

order to defeat his chief political antagonist, he walked on, step by

step, until he reached the boundary of Radicalism. Once there, the

temptation to venture over was great. His own immediate followers were

few and feeble; behind him was the Conservative phalanx,—firm, united,

and powerful; before him was the _Garde Mobile_ of the Destructives,

eagerly beckoning him over. He went; and it is little wonder if those of

his staff who disapproved of so desperate a course, should now be either

retiring from the field, or wandering about in disguise. What line,

indeed, can a Ministerial Whig, who purposes to take his seat in the

next Parliament, adopt with regard to his constituents? If he should say

that he has faith and confidence in Lord John Russell, he must equally

declare that he has faith and confidence in Mr Cobden, for these two are

now inseparable in virtue of their late alliance. And if he is prepared

to support a Cobden Ministry, he must needs avow himself a democrat. If,

on the other hand, he should denounce Lord John Russell, and deny his

leadership, whom is he prepared to follow? Is he to oppose Lord Derby as

a Conservative, when the only possible party that can succeed to office

in the event of the defeat of Lord Derby is that of the Destructives?

Who leads him? Under what particular banner does he now profess to

serve? These are questions and considerations which, during the last two

months, have engrossed the attention of many a hesitating Whig, and

which are now agitating, with great force, the whole of the electoral

community. For it is quite clear that the old Whig party has ceased to

have a separate existence. We do not say that, in time coming, it may

not be reconstructed. There are materials enough to do that, providing a

fitting architect can be found; but in the absence of any such artist,

it must necessarily remain in abeyance. Men of moderate opinions—such as

Sir William Gibson Craig, whose high character, affable demeanour, and

unwearied attention to the interests of his constituents rendered his

re-election perfectly secure—decline to present themselves as candidates

at the approaching general election. Making every allowance for special

and private reasons, on which no one has a right to comment, it does

appear to us that such instances of withdrawal argue great uncertainty

as to the political future, and cannot in any way be construed into

tokens of approval of that line of conduct which Lord John Russell has

thought fit to adopt. We could very well understand such withdrawals

from public life, were the late Premier still in power. We can hardly

believe that they would have taken place, had he remained, in adversity,

the exponent and representative of the views which have hitherto been

held by gentlemen of the old Whig party. Our own conviction is, that his

conduct, since he was compelled to surrender power, has alienated the

confidence of the best and wisest of his former adherents, who regarded

his proposed Reform Bill with marked apprehension, and were sincerely

rejoiced to be freed from the responsibility which must have attached to

all, who, from party ties, might have thought themselves obliged to vote

for so very dangerous a measure. It is now well known that the leading

Whigs of England regard the defeat of Lord John Russell rather as a

deliverance than a calamity. Henceforward they have done with him. If he

is again to take office, he cannot count upon his old supporters. The

Whig peers—the Lansdownes, the Fitzwilliams, the Zetlands—are too

sensible, honourable, and loyal to support a Cabinet in which Mr Cobden

must have the principal say; and throughout the country we know that

public opinion among the educated classes is utterly opposed to, and

abhorrent of any such consummation. The few Whigs who are struggling to

attain or regain their contested seats, dare not venture upon a distinct

enunciation of their own opinions. They usually have recourse to such

general terms as—“wise and temperate reform;”—“that degree of progress

which the advanced position and increased intelligence of the age render

imperative;”—or, “the timely concession to popular demand of those

privileges which, if withheld, may hereafter be more clamorously

enforced.” It is no use commenting upon such language. The unhappy

individuals who employ it are quite guiltless of any meaning; and they

could not explain themselves if required. Generally speaking, they cut a

most miserable figure when under examination by some burly Radical. On

no one point are they explicit, save in their rejection of the ballot,

which they think themselves entitled to except to, as Lord John Russell

has hitherto declined to pronounce in favour of secret voting; and they

dare not, for the lives of them, attempt to mark out the limit of the

suffrage, or state the proper period for the duration of Parliaments.

This is but a cowardly and contemptible line of conduct. If they have

any spark of manhood in them, why can they not speak out? Surely by this

time they should know the points of the Charter by heart, and be able to

tell the constituencies to which of them they are ready to agree. On the

contrary, we find nothing but dodging, shuffling, equivocating, and

reserving. The fact is, that they have no mind of their own at all, and

they are in sore perplexity as to the state of two other minds which

they are trying to reconcile—the first being the mind of Lord John

Russell, and the second being the mind of the constituency which they

are addressing. For, apart from reform altogether, there are several

topics about which your pure Whig candidate must be exceedingly

cautious. For example, there is the withdrawal of the grant to Maynooth.

Even supposing that Lord John Russell were as alert a Protestant as he

professed himself to be in the autumn of 1850, how could he venture to

sacrifice the support of the Irish tail? Therein lies the difficulty.

You will find plenty of men—very determined Protestants, but also very

determined adherents of the late Ministry—who will tell you “that they

were always opposed to any grant of the kind;”—that is, that they

thought it essentially wrong, not only in a political, but in a

religious point of view; but, press one of these gentlemen upon the

point, especially if, as in the case of Edinburgh, the selection of a

candidate seems to depend greatly on his views with regard to that

measure, and you will almost invariably find that his attachment to

Protestantism is less strong than his regard for the interests of his

party. This may not be right, and we do not think it is so; but we

infinitely prefer the conduct and avowal of such men to the disgraceful

exhibitions which have lately been made by more than one Whig candidate.

Opinions, based on religious principle, never ought to be conceded.

Changed they may be; but what idea of the sincerity of such a change can

be formed, when we find it taking place immediately on the eve of an

election, and, in one instance, after the issue of an address? After

all, we are perhaps too severe. Every one knows what was the miserable

denouement of Lord John Russell’s determined stand for Protestantism

against Papal aggression; and it might be too much to expect that the

devoted and even servile follower should exhibit, in his own person,

more consistency than was displayed by his redoubted chief.

It is, however, quite apparent that, notwithstanding Lord John Russell’s

advances to the Radical party, the latter are by no means inclined to

place confidence in the Whigs. In every case in which such a movement

seems likely to be attended with any prospect of success, they are

putting forward candidates of their own—men whose adhesion to democratic

principles is beyond the possibility of a challenge. Persons whose names

were never before heard of—utterly briefless barristers, reporters and

writers for the Radical press, broken-down speculators, who consider a

career within the walls of St Stephen’s as the best method of effacing

the memory of the enormities of Capel Court, attorneys in dubious

practice, and the like class of characters—are presenting themselves to

constituencies rather on the strength of recommendations from the

Radical Reform Junta, than from any particular merits of their own. By

these men the Whigs are especially persecuted, and may, perhaps, in

various instances, be beaten. Yet, strange to say, the Whigs, as a

party, have not the courage to adopt any distinct principle, or announce

any determined line of action, which would serve at once to distinguish

and separate them from the fellowship of these political adventurers.

They are ashamed of their old party names, and persist in calling

themselves Liberals. Now, as we all know, Liberality is, in politics, an

exceedingly comprehensive term. Cuffey was a Liberal, so is Mr Feargus

O’Connor; so are Mr Joseph Hume, Mr John M’Gregor, Mr Cobden, Mr W.J.

Fox, Lord Melgund, and Mr James Moncrieff. And yet it would be difficult

to say upon what particular point, negations excluded, one and all of

these gentlemen are agreed. The fact is—and the Whigs know it—that there

is no such a thing as a united Liberal party, and that the soldering up

of their differences is impossible. When a Whig appeals to a

constituency as a Liberal, he is taking the worst and weakest, because

the most untenable, ground. He is acting the part of the Girondists, who

persisted in claiming kindred with the Montagnards, until the Mountain

fell upon and crushed them. It is this feature which distinguishes the

present from every previous contest. The chiefs of the Liberal sections

profess to act in concert and amity—they hold meetings, pass

resolutions, and lay down plans for future operations—their followers

are as much opposed to each other as Abram and Balthazar of the House of

Montague were to Sampson and Gregory of the House of Capulet. One thing

alone they agree in—they are determined to do everything in their power

to obstruct her Majesty’s present Government.

It is very needful that such matters should be considered at the present

time—that sober-minded people, who must take a part in the approaching

election, should thoroughly understand the responsibility which devolves

upon them, and the consequences which may ensue from their committing an

error of judgment. The influence of party watchwords, though materially

lessened of late years, has not yet ceased to exist; and it is possible

that some men may, through a terror of being charged with political

inconsistency, actually commit themselves to principles which they hold

in sincere abhorrence. Therefore it is necessary to look, not only to

the past and present position of parties, but also to their future

prospects and views, according to the support which may be accorded to

them by the country at the general election.

Let us suppose that, at the opening of the new Parliament, Lord Derby

should be defeated by a vote of want of confidence. His resignation must

follow as a matter of course, and then begins the strife. Past events

render it perfectly clear that the old Whig Government cannot return to

office, or, if it could do so, must act upon other principles than

before. Lord John Russell’s resignation in February was an event which

could not have been long postponed. His Cabinet was broken into

divisions; it was unpopular out of doors; and his own conduct had, on

various matters, been such as to engender general dissatisfaction. His

Reform Bill was a measure which gave vast umbrage to the majority even

of the urban electors. Its introduction was, perhaps, the most signal

proof of his political weakness, and, we may add, of his ignorance of

the state of popular feeling. No matter whether it was intended to be

carried or not, it remains, and ever will remain, an example of the

length to which personal ambition may carry an unscrupulous Minister.

Earl Grey’s administration of the Colonies has become a byword for

imbecility, blundering, and disaster. The finances were not in much

better hands. No movement was made by Sir Charles Wood towards the

termination of the Income-Tax, nor had he even the practical ability to

reimpose it upon an equitable basis. We do not allude to these things by

way of criticism on the past—indeed it would be unnecessary to do so, as

they are matters of common notoriety. We state them merely to show that

the reconstruction of the Whig Government, out of old materials, and on

old principles, is a thing impossible, and that the next professing

Liberal Government must differ greatly in kind and character from any

which has hitherto preceded it.

Could it possibly be a moderate Government? Let us first consider that.

Not only the Radical party, (who must be looked upon as the chief

supporters of such a Government,) but Lord John Russell and Sir James

Graham, are pledged to the introduction of certain organic changes,

differing only in degree. To suppose that any of them will adopt a less

measure than that which they have advocated, is out of the question; and

as the tendency of the movement has been, not from the Radicals to Lord

John Russell, but from Lord John Russell to the Radicals, we may very

naturally conclude that the result would be an approximation to the

views of Mr Cobden. That gentleman, as we know, (for he does not scruple

to tell us so in as many words,) has “ulterior objects” of his own, the

time for developing which in safety has probably not yet arrived. We

shall not inquire too curiously into the nature of those, being

satisfied, as probably will be most of our readers who have watched the

progress of the man, that they are not at all calculated to improve the

stability of any of our institutions. We cannot, therefore, see what

hopes can be entertained of the formation of a moderate Government,

supposing Lord Derby’s to be overthrown; unless, instead of uniting with

Mr Cobden, Lord John Russell could effect a union with some other

political party.

No such party exists. Unless we are much deceived, the majority of the

followers of the late Sir Robert Peel, at least the majority of those

who may be able to re-enter Parliament, are prepared to give their

support and confidence to Lord Derby’s Administration. There may, no

doubt, be exceptions. Sir James Graham and Mr Cardwell are clearly out

of the Conservative ranks, and may enlist under any banner they choose.

But as it is extremely problematical whether either of these gentlemen

will obtain seats in the new House of Commons, their views are of little

consequence. Other Obstructives, of whom there are a few, have no chance

whatever of being returned; so that the construction of what we may term

a moderate Liberal Government could not take place, from absolute want

of material. Indeed, judging from the language lately employed by the

knight of Netherby, we should say that moderation is as far from his

thoughts as from those of the rankest Radical in Oldham.

Unless, therefore, the electors are really anxious for a Radical

Government and for Radical measures, they ought to abstain from giving

a vote to any candidate who is hostile to the continuance of Lord

Derby’s Administration. Let us not be misunderstood. We are not now

arguing as to the propriety of sending Protectionists instead of

Free-Traders to Parliament; we are not asking any man to forsake his

opinions on points of commercial policy. Doubtless in the next

Parliament there will be some opposed to the reimposition of duties

upon corn, who, nevertheless, are prepared to accord their general

support to Lord Derby, the more readily because he has distinctly

stated that he leaves the corn-duties question “to the deliberate

judgment of the country, and to the general concurrence of the

country, without which I shall not,” said he, “bring forward that

proposition.” But in voting for any candidate, who sets forward as a

ground for his acceptance, the fact that he belongs to what is called

“the Liberal party,” let the electors remember that they are in truth

voting for Radical measures, and for organic changes. They may be slow

to believe so, but there can actually and absolutely be no other

result. These gentlemen of “the Liberal party,” however moderate their

individual views may be, seek to enter Parliament for the purpose of

overthrowing one Government and establishing another. Of course the

overthrow must always precede the reconstruction; and, most commonly,

it is not until the overthrow has been made, that the plan of the

structure is considered. We have already stated our reasons—and we

submit they are strong ones—for thinking that no moderate Liberal

Government, in the proper sense of the term, can be again constructed;

that Lord John Russell, if once more summoned to form a Cabinet, must

do so on a Radical basis, and the inevitable consequence must be the

establishment of a thorough democracy, on the ruins of our present

Constitution. We appeal in this matter as directly to the old

constitutional Whigs, as to that powerful body of the electors, who,

entertaining moderate opinions, are attached to no particular party in

the state. We entreat them earnestly to consider the difficulties of

the present crisis—difficulties which have arisen not so much from any

increasing power of the Radical faction, as from the weakness,

vacillation, and strong personal ambition of the late Whig leader. No

doubt it is an honourable and a high ambition which excites a

statesman to aim at the possession of power, but the honour ceases the

moment that principle is abandoned. And it does appear to us that, of

late years, far too little attention has been paid to the terms of the

conditions which are implied by a Minister’s acceptance of office.

Under our constitutional monarchy he is the servant of the Crown, and

he is bound to bring forward such measures only as will tend to the

dignity and the safety of that, and the welfare of the people

generally. Is it possible for any one conscientiously to maintain that

Lord John Russell has pursued such a course? Is it not, on the

contrary, apparent to all, that his main object, and the leading

thought of his life, has ever been the supremacy of his own political

party? Has he not, in order to prolong that supremacy, approached

repeatedly to factions with whose principles he had nothing in common,

and purchased their temporary support on terms alike degrading to the

giver and to the recipient? That is not the art of governing, at least

as it was understood of old. Once let it be known that a Government is

plastic—that it may be bullied, coerced, or driven into making

terms—and its moral power and influence are for ever gone. Is there

any reason—we would ask the electors—why any man should incur such

risk as must arise from the instalment of a Radical Ministry in power,

solely from personal devotion to the interests of my Lord John

Russell? There may be some who think that hitherto he has deserved

well of his country. So be it: we have no objection that they should

entertain such an opinion. But this much is undeniable, that however

good his intentions might be, he neither could, nor can, command a

majority of direct followers of his own; and that he has been forced

to scramble on from point to point by the assistance of political

antagonists, dexterously availing himself, at each turn, of the hand

which was immediately nearest. But this kind of course must always

have an end. A precipice lay before him; and, as no other arms were

open, he leaped into those of Mr Cobden.

If the main body of the Whigs are prepared to follow Lord John Russell

wherever he may go, notwithstanding all that has passed, and all that he

has indicated for the future, we, of course, can have no manner of

objection. But let them distinctly understand what is in store for them

if they choose to adopt such a course. Many of them, we know, were

thoroughly disgusted with the Reform Bill which he introduced this

Session; and did not hesitate to express their conviction that it was an

unnecessary, dangerous, and reprehensible measure. If Lord John Russell

returns to power, he must bring in a new Reform Bill far more democratic

than the last. That is the condition on which he is allowed to retain

the nominal leadership of the Opposition, and from it he cannot depart.

The Manchester party will not rest until they have attained their end.

They are for no half-measures; they are plagued by no scruples. Their

doctrine is, that political power should be vested in the uneducated

masses,—“the instinct of the million being,” according to their great

oracle, “wiser than the wisdom of the wisest.” In other words, mob rule

is to be paramount, and whatever the majority wish to be done, must be

straightway put into execution. Is there any reflecting man in the

country who does not shudder at the thought of such a consummation?—is

there any one conversant with history who does not see to what it must

necessarily lead? With no lack of demagogues to mislead and excite them,

what part of the British fabric would be secure against the attacks of

an ignorant democracy? It may be true that Lord John Russell does not

contemplate this—that he would even shrink from and repudiate the

thought with horror. But he is not the less doing all in his power to

forward the advance of anarchy. By consenting to lower the suffrage, he

has given authority and significance to demands far more comprehensive

in their scope. He has indicated that the bulwark which he himself

erected, twenty years ago, is not to be considered as permanent, but

merely temporary in its purpose. He has begun, like the foolish

dikebuilder of Holland, to tamper with the seawall of his own

construction, heedless of the inundation which must follow.

Let the Whigs pause for a moment, and consider what are the principles

maintained by the men with whom their leader is now in alliance. Of

their notions on religious matters it is difficult to speak with

accuracy. One large section of them consists of rank Papists, men under

the control and domination of the Roman Catholic priesthood, and ready

to do their bidding in anything that may advance the supremacy of a

false and apostate Church. Another section professes to regard all

Churches and creeds as alike, maintaining, as a fundamental doctrine,

that Establishments ought to be abolished, and religious teaching

maintained only on the strict Voluntary principle. The advocates of this

view are of course prepared to strike down the Established Churches of

England and of Scotland, to overturn the whole existing ecclesiastical

arrangements, and to confiscate ecclesiastical property. Another section

is supremely indifferent to religious teaching of any kind, regarding

secular education as quite sufficient for all the requirements of the

people. These are the men who regard all opposition to Papal aggression

as sheer bigotry and intolerance, who clamour for the admission of Jews

into one House of Parliament, whilst in the same breath they profess

themselves ready to dismiss the Christian prelates from the other. In

politics they are republican, all except the name. But, in truth, it

matters little what name is given to their creed, seeing that the

principle which they profess is that of pure democracy. It is not

pretended, and certainly they do not pretend, that if their scheme were

carried, the House of Peers could continue on its present footing to

coexist with the House of Commons. They admit that they have “ulterior

objects”—all revolutionists have—and these are left to our conjecture.

Is then our present Constitution so faulty, that the great body of the

electors are prepared to risk, and to recommend a change?

If not, let them beware of returning any man who will so far support

Lord John Russell as to act unscrupulously against Lord Derby. By all

means let the measures of the present Government be considered with the

utmost rigidness and exactitude, and let no favour be shown to them

beyond what they conscientiously deserve. The ordeal may be—must be, a

severe one; but Ministers will not shrink from it, being conscious of

the integrity of their motives. But it is no part of the game of

Opposition to allow them a fair trial, or even a fair hearing, if they

can in anywise be prevented. They must, say the democrats, be

crushed—and that immediately. Mr Cobden went the length of counselling

that they should not be permitted to get through the business of the

present Session, so apprehensive was he of the effect which an appeal to

the constitutional feelings of the country might produce. He and Mr

Villiers had concocted a scheme which they thought might precipitate a

crisis, but it was too scandalously factious to admit of its being

carried into effect.

The late Whig Government has been tried, and found wanting. It never can

be reconstituted again, and its old supporters are undoubtedly released

from all their ties of allegiance. It will be for them to determine

whether they are to follow Lord John Russell in his retreat to the camp

of the Radicals, or continue to maintain those constitutional principles

which were once the boast of the Whig party. The question is indeed a

serious and a momentous one. Lord Derby has most clearly indicated the

nature of the ground on which he stands. He does not appeal to the

country on this or that financial measure—he comes forward as the

supporter of the Protestant institutions of the realm, and as the

determined opponent of a designing and encroaching democracy. What sound

Protestant, or true lover of his country, can be indifferent to such an

appeal?

We have been thus particular in noticing the state of parties, because

we observe that various underlings of the late Government are canvassing

constituencies, especially in Scotland, in rather an artful manner. They

keep out of sight altogether the fact of the Chesham Place alliance.

They are as unwilling to allude to that treaty as to the notorious

Lichfield House compact, when the Whigs bartered religious principle for

Roman Catholic support. Now, this may be very convenient for those

gentlemen; but, we presume, the electors will agree with us in thinking

that the sooner they can arrive at a distinct understanding upon such

points the better. It is all very well to talk of “judicious and timely

reform,” but the orator who uses such terms should go a little further,

and explain to his audience the exact nature of the reform which he

contemplates. Because, if Lord John Russell’s abortive Bill is not to be

introduced again, but, in the event of his resumption of office,

another, revised by Mr Cobden, and approximating to the full

requirements of the Manchester politicians, is to be tabled instead—it

would be as well to know how far the liberality of honourable candidates

will permit them to advance. Also, it would be a curious and not

unprofitable subject of inquiry whether they still hold themselves to be

bound by the acts of their parliamentary leader? If they attended the

meeting at Chesham Place, they must be held as consenting parties to the

Cobden compact; if they did not, it might not be useless to ask who is

their leader, and what line of policy do they intend to pursue? It is a

good thing to hear the abstract opinions of political soldiers and

subalterns; but in these times, it is much more instructive to learn the

name of the captain of their troop. None of the gentlemen to whom we are

alluding are likely to originate measures—they must be contented to take

the word of command from others. If, therefore, they remain, and intend

to remain, followers of Lord John Russell, they form part of that grand

army of which Mr Cobden is a general of division, if not something

higher. They have pronounced for the democracy, and as democrats they

should accordingly be viewed.

It would be exceedingly instructive if we could exact from each

candidate a distinct definition of the meaning which he attaches to the

term “Liberal principles.” We observe from the Edinburgh newspapers that

a gentleman, professing “liberal principles,” proposes to contest the

representation of the Montrose burghs with Mr Joseph Hume—the inference

being, that the principles of the said Joseph are not sufficiently

liberal! Then, at Paisley, a candidate recommended by the same Joseph

Hume, and that superlative twaddler Sir Joshua Walmsley, comes forward,

on “liberal principles,” to oppose Mr Hastie, whom we have hitherto been

accustomed to regard as rather in advance of the Whigs. The Radicals of

Perth did not think Mr Fox Maule “liberal” enough for them, since they

brought forward an opponent in the person of a certain Mr Gilpin; and

now that Mr Maule has succeeded to the peerage, the gentleman who next

solicits the suffrages of the Fair City in his place, must make up his

mind to compare his “liberal principles” with those of the Gilpin. Not

long ago a well-known Whig citizen and civic functionary of Edinburgh

declared himself opposed to any further extension of the suffrage,

thereby intimating his dissent from the principle of Lord John Russell’s

Bill; and yet, at a meeting lately held for the purpose of selecting a

candidate, this same individual moved a resolution to the effect that

the candidate ought to be a man professing “liberal opinions!” Really

there is something ludicrous and intensely absurd in this general

employment of a phrase which can be made to mean almost anything. Is a

man in favour of a republic, abolition of the House of Peers,

suppression of the Church, and repudiation of the national debt? Then he

is undoubtedly a man of “liberal principles.” Is he merely for household

suffrage, electoral divisions, vote by ballot, and triennial

parliaments? He is likewise of “liberal principles.” Is he a

thick-and-thin supporter of Lord John Russell, having held a place under

the late Government? Who so ready as he to lay claim to “liberal

principles.” Does he wish the separation of Church and State? “Liberal”

again. Does he back up the Papacy in their insolent attempts at

aggression, and defend the grant of Maynooth? He does so on “liberal

principles.” Does he wish to see the Jews in Parliament? He vindicates

that wish on the score of “liberal principles.” Now, surely, unless

logic is an art as lying as that of chiromancy, it cannot be that all

the men holding such conflicting opinions are entitled to the name of

Liberals, or to claim credit to themselves for entertaining “liberal

opinions.” If so, who is illiberal? But it is not worth while to comment

further upon a point so very obvious as this. If Liberalism means

contemplated overthrow and anarchy, we make the gentlemen who profess

such principles as welcome to their title as was the late Thomas Paine,

when he too arrogated to himself, in his isolation, the name of Liberal.

If it means adherence to the principles of the Constitution, love of

social order, and regard for the welfare of the general body of the

people, we fear that we must deny the name to a good many of those who

claim it.

One miserable feature in the conduct of some of these _soi-disant_

Liberal candidates, especially the new ones, is their extreme avidity to

swallow any pledge that may be proposed, provided that, by so doing,

they can secure the suffrages of some inconsiderable fraction of the

electors. Their addresses are not deliberate expositions of their own

formed opinions, but are framed upon another and very liberal principle.

They endeavour to ascertain the points of doctrine which are supposed to

be the most popular with the constituency whom they are ambitious to

represent, and they issue their manifestoes accordingly. If anything has

been omitted, or if they have not gone far enough, an opportunity is

usually afforded them to make up for that deficiency at the first

meeting of the electors—so called by courtesy, for in many cases there

are not half-a-dozen electors, besides those on the platform, in the

room. Such meetings are invariably attended by the busy-bodies of the

place—radical cobblers, church-rate martyrs, philosophical barbers, and

perhaps one or two specimens of that most loathsome of all animals, the

dirty dandy. Here the candidate is expected to go through his facings,

and to answer every question which insolence can suggest, or ignorance

render unintelligible. No matter:—as our friend is a member of the

“Liberal party,” he can safely expand his conscience to any extent which

may be required; and the decisive and prompt manner in which he

frequently disposes of the most knotty points of social and political

economy, is delightful and edifying. Without ever having read a single

page on the subject, he is quite ready to reconstruct the Currency, and

pledges himself to bring in a bill to that effect, at the request of a

snuffy dealer in gingerbread, who never had credit for five pounds in

his life, and who has just made application for a _cessio bonorum_. An

individual in fustian, evidently in the last stage of _delirium

tremens_, after a hiccupped harangue on ecclesiastical rapacity, demands

from him his thoughts upon Church Establishments in general; and the

liberal candidate at once undertakes to have them all suppressed. If his

opinions on the subject of National Education are somewhat vague, the

fault lies with the respectable non-elector, who could not frame his

question so as to render it intelligible. To one earnest inquirer—a

carrier—he promises an entire and compulsory stoppage of Sunday trains.

To another—a publican—he pledges himself to remove the excise duties

from British spirits. To a third—a cabman—he indicates his resolution of

commencing a violent onslaught on the Customs, so that “the poor man’s

tobacco” may be no longer smoked under a sense of injustice. Of course

he disposes very summarily of the Army, Navy, and Colonies, these being

parasitical weeds which ought immediately to be done away with; in fact,

before he has done, there is hardly one institution, tax, custom,

establishment, or system in the United Kingdom which he has not

denounced as odious, and which he has not pledged himself to alter! So

convenient are your “liberal principles” in adjusting themselves to the

popular will.

What takes place now, bad as it is, is but a faint type of what would be

enacted if democracy had the upper-hand; and we would recommend all

those who are sceptical as to this matter, to attend personally some

meeting at which a candidate is subjected to this kind of examination,

and mark the intelligence which is displayed by the questioners, and the

consistency which is exhibited in the replies. It is, indeed, as sorry a

spectacle as a man could wish to witness; and could we suppose it to be

a reflex either of the mind of the electors, or of the settled opinions

of those who are likely to be Liberal members of Parliament, the idea

would inevitably cast a heavy gloom over our anticipations for the

future. But the truth is, that the electors have little or nothing to do

with it; and the great majority of the upstart aspirants after the

honours of legislation will, in a month or so, return to their usual

avocations, probably not without an imprecation on the folly which

induced them, at the bidding of an interested faction, to suspend the

humble toils on which their daily bread depended, and expose themselves

alike to ridicule and defeat. There are, however, reflections of a very

serious nature suggested by the efforts which the Radical party are

making for the introduction of organic changes, which ought not to be

lightly passed over.

Why is it that certain parties are now, more than heretofore, engaged in

getting up a cry for reform and extension of suffrage? Why is it that

some men, ostensibly belonging to the Whig party, who, a year or two

ago, held such views in utter detestation, have declared themselves

favourable to the movement? Has anything been done to curtail the

popular privileges—to take away from the people any portion of the power

which they previously possessed—to curtail the liberty of the press—or

in any way to trench upon the rights which are common to every subject?

Has there been any tyranny on the part of the Crown—any audible

complaint against the acts of the House of Peers? Nothing of the kind.

Has, then, the House of Commons failed in the fulfilment of its duty?

That averment can hardly be made, with consistency at least, by any

member of the Liberal party, since they have made it their boast that,

at the present moment, they are in possession of a majority in the Lower

House, and have taken credit to themselves for magnanimity in allowing

Lord Derby’s Ministry to exist, as they say, by sufferance, until the

ordinary business of the Session is completed. What, then, can be the

motive for the change which is now so loudly urged? It is simply this:

The Liberal party are aware that they no longer possess the confidence

of the country, and they hope, by rousing a new and formidable

agitation, to divert the public mind into another channel, and prevent

it from dwelling upon the injuries which they have inflicted upon the

industrious classes of the nation. How otherwise can we account for this

sudden and violent mania for extending the suffrage, which is apparent

in the election speeches of most of the Liberal candidates? Mark the

inconsistency of these men. They tell us—no matter whether falsely or

not—that the country never was in a state of greater prosperity than

now, and that such has been the fruit of their earnest and triumphant

efforts. Very well. If it be so, what reason can be urged for making any

organic change? Are not the prosperity and the welfare of a nation, and

that content which, as we are told, reigns among the working-classes,

the surest proofs that the Constitution is working admirably; and would

it not, in that case, be utter madness to alter its arrangement? Yet

such is the dilemma in which the Liberals, including Lord John Russell,

are placed. They dare not aver that the country is not prospering,

seeing that, for many years, they have had it all their own way, and

that any statement of the kind would be tantamount to a censure passed

upon themselves. On the contrary, they avow prosperity in the highest

degree, and yet they are clamouring for a change, which cannot improve,

but may possibly imperil it!

They cannot say that they demand extension of the suffrage because the

acts of another Ministry might possibly endanger the prosperity which

they assume to exist. Both the Radicals and Lord John Russell had

declared for extension of the suffrage long before Lord Derby was

summoned to take office. They were quite as keen for organic change at

the time when they tauntingly told us that Protection was coffined and

buried for ever, as they are now when they behold it in life and motion.

Nor can they reasonably suppose that a cry for extended suffrage will be

generally acceptable to the great body of the present electors, who are

jealous enough of the privileges which they have so long possessed, and

are by no means disposed to part with them, or to be swamped by the

uneducated rabble. We are loath to suppose that any, beyond the worst

and most unprincipled agitators of the Manchester rump, are base enough

to hope in their hearts that they may succeed in exciting popular tumult

and disturbance. We shall not consult Mr Roebuck’s _History of the Whig

Ministry_ for any similar passages in former days—we content ourselves

with the assurance that no disposition of the kind exists anywhere.

Therefore, after looking at the subject in all its bearings, we are

constrained to come to the conclusion, that all this talk about reform

on the part of the Liberals has its origin in a sincere and not

unnatural desire to mislead the people of this country, and to withdraw

their attention from those matters in which they are immediately and

most deeply interested.

The advocates of that system which has been dominant for several years,

although its introduction is of an older date, are, of course, loud in

its praise, and claim for it the credit of full and triumphant success.

We do not deny that their system has, in the mean time, had the effect

of cheapening commodities, though not in the ratio which they predicted.

The price of the loaf, of sugar, and of various other articles commonly

termed “of first necessity,” is lowered; and we may fairly acknowledge

that to many this not only appears, but is, a valuable boon. For,

undoubtedly, if we could procure all the articles which we consume at a

far lower rate than before, retaining, at the same time, our incomes

undiminished, we should each of us be immense gainers—we might either

work less, and continue to live as formerly, or we might work as

formerly, and gradually accumulate a capital; but if, in proportion to

the cheapness of commodities, our incomes equally diminish, then it is

not easy to see wherein the advantage lies.

It is obvious, then, that at least one class of persons—those who are in

the receipt of fixed incomes—must profit materially by any system which

induces the cheapening of commodities. The mere annuitant can now live

more comfortably than before; but as annuitants do not constitute a very

large class of the community, and as they necessarily must derive their

incomes from the product of internal labour, we apprehend that, in

treating of such questions, it is proper to look directly to the working

and productive classes. We do not intend to argue over again points

which we have repeatedly discussed in previous articles; our object just

now is to show that these pretended Liberals have reason on their side

in wishing to escape from a calm and deliberate investigation of the

consequences of their lauded policy.

We are told by them that the working-classes never were so comfortable

as they are just now. If we believed this, and believed also that the

comfort _could be permanent_—because both points of belief are necessary

before any one can be convinced of the excellence of their system—we

should submit to the deep degradation of acknowledging, in silence and

tears, our conversion to the tenets of the men of Manchester. But,

unfortunately, we believe nothing of the kind—nay, we know that the

contrary is the fact; and, first, let us try to understand, if possible,

the meaning of the Free-Traders.

We need not complicate the question as to what the working-classes are,

by insisting that every man who depends for his support upon his own

exertions belongs to that order. Heaven knows that the pen is oftentimes

a more toilsome implement than the shuttle or the spade; and, although

we cannot say that we ever had a fancy to try our hand at the loom, we

would have no objection, on occasion, to take a turn at trenching. By

the working-classes, we understand those who are engaged in mechanical

toil—in tilling the earth, cultivating its products, raising and

smelting its minerals, producing fabrics from raw materials, and

assisting the operations of commerce and manufactures in an endless

variety of ways. They are distinguished from the capitalist in this,

that they labour with their hands, and that labour is their sole

inheritance.

That it is the first duty of every Government to guard and protect that

class, has been our invariable doctrine. In them the motive strength of

Britain lies. Machinery is of man’s invention—the human frame is the

work of God alone, animated by His breath, and must not be treated as a

machine. They may be called upon—as all of us are called upon—to

contribute some portion of their labour for the maintenance of our

national institutions, which have undeniably exempted us from those

terrible calamities by which almost every other state in Europe has been

visited. A bad system of the entailment of state debts, commenced more

than a hundred and sixty years ago by a monarch who came over to this

country as a Liberator, has increased the national burdens, and

occasioned a further tax upon labour. Yet, nevertheless, it is

undeniable that the condition of the British labourer, in every

department of industry, has been for a long time superior to that of his

fellow in any other European country. The men of the working-classes

are, though they may not know it, possessed of enormous power. Wronged

they cannot be, except by their own consent, and as victims of delusion;

for the sympathy of the intelligence of the country is with them, and so

is that of the higher orders. To all who have true nobility of soul, the

rights of the working man are sacred; and when that ceases to be the

case, the days of the aristocracy are numbered.

But _why_ is it that the condition of the British labourer has been

superior to that of his foreign equal? That is indeed a consideration of

the very greatest importance; and it would be well if statistical

compilers and political economists had set themselves seriously to

consider “the reason why,” instead of simply noting the fact. We have

read a good many volumes—more than we care to enumerate—written by

gentlemen of that class, but we never have been able to find any

intelligible explanation of that phenomenon. Yet surely it is a

remarkable one. This country is, in respect of its population, far more

heavily burdened than any of the leading states of Europe—it has not the

climatic advantages of some of them—and it can scarcely be said to

produce the precious metals. Its exports, though undoubtedly large,

were, and are, as nothing to the quantity produced, intended for the

home consumption. It has been computed, from an investigation of the

census taken in 1841, that not much more than half a million of people,

the population being then nearly twenty seven millions, were employed in

the manufacture of articles for the foreign trade.[33]

It may be useful here to mention that, according to one foreign

statistical authority, Schnabel, the proportion of taxes paid yearly by

each individual in Great Britain, France, and Prussia, was in the

following ratio:—

Great Britain, 18

France, 11⅔

Prussia, 5½

And the comparative rate of agricultural wages is stated thus by Rau, in

his _Lehrbuch der Politischen Oekonomie_:—

S. D.

Great Britain, (average,) 1 6

France, (do.) 1 0¾

East Prussia, 0 4⅔

These figures, of course, may be slightly inaccurate, but they are

sufficient to show the great variation, both in taxation and wages,

which prevails in the three countries which are here specified; and we

have no reason to believe that, during the few years which have elapsed

since these calculations were made, any material difference in

proportion has taken place. A similar discrepancy prevails in wages of

every kind. For example, Mr Porter tells us that in Wurtemberg the wages

of the artisans in towns are from 1s. 8d. to 4s. 2d. per week; that in

Bavaria “labourers are paid at the rate of 8d. per day in the country,

and from 8d. to 1s. 4d. in the towns;” and that in Saxony “a man

employed in his loom, working very diligently from Monday morning until

Saturday night, from five o’clock in the morning until dusk, and even at

times with a lamp, his wife assisting him in finishing and taking him

the work, could not possibly earn more than 20 groschen (2s. 6d.

sterling) per week.” We might have added many other instances to these,

but we judge it to be unnecessary. We quote them simply for the purpose

of showing that labour in Britain, if heavily taxed, was better

remunerated than elsewhere.

Now, why was it better remunerated? That is—after all that has been said

and written on the subject, and Eolus-bags of oratory, and hundreds of

thousands of reams of paper have been expended on it—the question, upon

the solution of which the merit of the rival systems depends. It was

better remunerated in this way—because in Great Britain there has been a

far greater outlay of capital in every department and branch of

industry, than has been made in any other country of the world. With us,

land has been reclaimed, and brought under tillage, which elsewhere

would have been left in a state of nature. At an immense cost the

difficulties of climate have been overcome, and the soil rendered

productive, and capable of sustaining an increased number of

inhabitants. We must go back farther than the memory of the present

generation can reach, in order to appreciate the vast nature of the

improvements which were so effected. Since the commencement of the

present century, very nearly four millions of acres, in England alone,

have been brought into cultivation under the Inclosure Acts, besides all

that has been effected by private enterprise—and it is probable that

amount immensely exceeds the other—on land held by a simple tenure.

Eighty years ago, the greater part of the surface of what are now our

best cultivated counties, was covered with heath and ling, and of course

wholly unproductive. It was from this outlay of capital in the

cultivation of the soil that the rapid growth of our towns, and the

great increase of our manufactures, took their rise. The latter cannot

precede—it must always follow the other. The country supplied the towns

with food, and the towns in turn supplied the country with manufactures.

Such being the case, it is evident that the prosperity of either

interest depended greatly upon the circumstances of the other. If

agriculture was depressed, from whatever cause, there was no longer the

same demand as formerly for manufactures; if manufactures were

depressed, the agriculturist suffered in his turn. But in reality,

except from over-trading, and a competition pushed to an extent which

has affected the national interest, it is difficult to understand how a

depression in manufactures for the home trade could take place, except

through and in consequence of agricultural calamity. The home demand was

remarkably steady, and could be calculated upon with almost a certainty

of return. It was reserved for the enlightened economists of our age to

discover that the interests of agriculture and manufactures were not

harmonious. Such, clearly, was not the theory of our forefathers. The

Book of Common Prayer contains a form of thanksgiving for a good

harvest—it has none for a year of unusual export and import.

We must not, however, pass over without notice, the circumstances which

led to the extraordinary development of industry and enterprise in Great

Britain, in every department. Without consumers, it is quite evident

that agriculture could not have advanced with such rapid strides; and it

is important that there should be no misunderstanding on this matter.

The possession of a hundred or a thousand acres of land is of little

value unless the owner can command a remunerative market for his

produce; nor will he cultivate his land to the utmost unless he has the

assurance of such a market. It is all very well to say, that, by the

expenditure of a certain sum of money, such and such an amount of crops

may be reared on each acre;—that is a mere feat of agricultural

chemistry, such as Mr Huxtable offered to undertake upon pure sand with

the assistance of pigs’ dung; but the real and only question is—will the

return meet the outlay? Without some unusual and extraordinary cause to

increase the number of consumers, it is clear to us that the progress of

agriculture must have been comparatively slow; and accordingly, we find

that cause in the Continental war, which continued for nearly a quarter

of a century, and which has effected such mighty changes—the end of

which is not yet apparent—in the social position of Great Britain.

To maintain that war, the resources of this country were taxed to the

utmost. So great were the demands, that they could not possibly have

been met but for two things—one being the result of internal

arrangement, and the other arising from external circumstances. The

first of these was the suspension of cash payments, and the extension,

or rather creation, of credit, arising from an unlimited paper currency.

The second was the monopoly of the foreign markets, which we engrossed,

in virtue of our naval supremacy. No writer on the social state of

Britain, even at the present hour, and no political economist who does

not specially refer to these two circumstances, are worth consulting.

Better put their volumes into the fire, than discuss effects without

regard to their antecedent cause.

It may be that the extent to which that unlimited currency was pushed,

has since had disastrous results. If unwisely permitted without control

or regulation, it was, as we think, contracted in a manner even more

unwise; and the practical consequence has been an enormous addition to

the weight of the public debt. But without a currency of very large

extent—without the credit which that currency created—Great Britain

could not have continued the struggle so long, nor brought it to a

triumphant issue. It was this that stimulated both agriculture and

manufactures, the latter having, in addition, the inestimable privilege

of the command of the markets of the world, without any interference of

a rival. Reclaimed fields and new manufactories were the products of

that period; and unquestionably there never was an era in our history

when prosperity appeared to be more generally diffused. If prices were

high, so were wages. Employment was plentiful, because improvement was

progressing on every side, and no jealousy existed between the

manufacturer and the agriculturist. During fifteen years, from 1801 to

1815, the average annual quantity of wheat and wheat-flour imported to

this country was only 506,000 quarters.

Perhaps it may be instructive here to quote the words of an acute

observer in 1816, regarding the improvements which had taken place,

before any check occurred. The writer of the historical summary in the

_Edinburgh Annual Register_ for that year thus expresses himself:—

“During the continuance of the last war, many things had conspired to

stimulate to the highest extent the exertions of every class of the

people of England. Cut off by the decrees of Buonaparte from direct

intercourse with some of the richest countries of Europe, the policy

which England had adopted in revenge of this exclusion, had greatly

increased the action of those many circumstances which naturally

tended towards rendering her the great, or rather the sole entrepot,

of the commerce of the world. In her the whole of that colonial trade

which had formerly been sufficient to enrich, not her alone, but

France and Holland also, had now centred. The inventive zeal of her

manufacturers had gone on from year to year augmenting and improving

branches of industry, in which, even before, she had been without a

rival. The increase of manufactures had been attended with a perpetual

increase in the demand for agricultural produce, and the events of the

two years of scarcity (as they were called) lent an additional spring

to the motion of those whose business it was to meet this demand. The

increase which took place in the agricultural improvements of the

island, was such as had never before been equalled in any similar

period of time. Invention followed invention, for economising labour,

and increasing production; till throughout no inconsiderable part of

the whole empire the face of the country was changed. ‘It may safely

be said,’ asserted Mr Brougham, ‘that without at all comprehending the

waste lands wholly added to the productive tenantry of the island, not

perhaps that two blades of grass now grow where one only grew before,

but certainly that five grow where four used to be; and that this

kingdom, which foreigners were wont to taunt as a mere manufacturing

and trading country, inhabited by a shopkeeping nation, is, in

reality, for its size, by far the greatest agricultural state in the

world!’”

Contrary, perhaps, to the general expectation, the close of the war and

the return of peace operated disastrously upon the internal interests of

the country. Though the manufacturing energies of the Continent had been

checked, its agriculture was ready and available; and accordingly, no

sooner were the ports opened than prices fell at an alarming rate. The

result was not only immediate agricultural distress in Britain, but _the

greatest depression in every branch of manufacture connected with the

home trade_. The agricultural distress needs no explanation. The vast

improvements on land had been made with borrowed money; and when prices

went down, the proprietor too often found himself unable from his rents

to pay the bare interest of the money expended. Yet, had these

improvements not taken place, how could Britain have continued the

struggle so long—how could her manufacturing population have been fed?

These are questions never considered now, especially by those agitators

who revile the landlords, or rather the Legislature, for the imposition

of the Corn Laws; but the truth is, that, unless the corn duty had been

then imposed, England must, within a very few years, either have

exhibited the humiliating spectacle of a bankrupt and ruined state, or

been plunged in revolution. The distress rapidly spread to the

manufacturers—for example, those engaged in the silk trade, and the iron

and coal-workers of Staffordshire and Wales. The fall in the price of

corn produced its natural effect by limiting the consumption of

everything else; and, as if to crown the calamity, the exporting

manufacturers, in their eagerness for gain, committed precisely the same

blunder, from the effects of which they are now suffering so severely;

and by creating a glut in the Continental markets, they both annihilated

their own profits, and excited such an alarm in foreign governments as

to give rise to a system of prohibitory duties, which continues to the

present hour. Then followed the resumption of cash payments, with all

its train of ruin—a measure which, whether necessary or not in

principle, could not have been carried but for the existence of a corn

law, which in some degree mitigated its pressure.

In a country so loaded with debt as ours, it is in vain to talk, as Lord

John Russell lately did, of a “natural price.” The term, indeed, has no

kind of significance under any circumstances; and we are perfectly

certain that the noble lord, when he employed it, was not attempting to

clothe a distinct idea in words. He found the phrase somewhere—perhaps

borrowed it from the _Economist_—and used it, because he thought it

sounded well. If he could reduce the price of all commodities here to

the level of that which prevails in a Continental country—a consummation

which appears to be contemplated and desired by the Free-Traders—the

result would necessarily be a like decadence of our wealth—not

accompanied, however, by a relaxation of our present burdens. The high

wages which the working-classes receive in this country, contrasted with

the low wages which are given elsewhere, depend upon the return which is

yielded to the capitalist who calls their labour into being. Now, let us

see what effect depression in any one great branch of industry exercises

upon the working-classes, who are not immediately dependent upon it for

their subsistence.

This involves one of the most curious phenomena in economical science.

When an interest is depressed, it does not always happen—especially in

the first stage of depression—that the labourers attached to that

interest feel immediately the consequences of the decline. Agricultural

wages, for example, do not fluctuate according to the price of wheat.

The retrenchment which becomes necessary in consequence of lessened

returns is usually effected, in the first instance at least, by

curtailment of personal expenditure on the part of the cultivator—by

abstinence from purchases, not necessary indeed, but convenient—and by

that species of circumspect, but nameless thrift, which, at the end of a

year, makes a very considerable difference in the amount of tradesmen’s

bills. This kind of retrenchment is the easiest, the safest, and the

most humane; and it is not until the depression becomes so great as to

render other and more stringent modes of economising necessary, that the

agricultural labourer is actually made to feel his entire dependence

upon the land, and the interest which he has in its returns. The small

tradesmen and dealers in the country and market towns are usually the

first to discern what is called the pressure of the times. They find

that the farmers are no longer taking from them the same quantity of

goods as before; that their stocks, especially of the more expensive

articles, remain on their hands unsold; and that there is no demand for

novelties. If the depression goes so far as to necessitate a diminution

of rental, then the same economy, but on a wider scale, is practised by

the landlord. Expensive luxuries are given up, establishments

contracted, and the town’s-people begin to complain of a dull season,

for which they find it impossible to account, seeing that money is

declared to be cheap. All this reacts upon the artisans very severely;

because in towns labour has a far less certain tenure than in the

country; and when there is a cessation of demand, workmen, however

skilled, are not only liable, but certain to be dismissed. If the

shopkeeper cannot get his goods off his hands, the manufacturer need not

expect to prevail upon him to give any farther orders. The demand upon

the mills becomes slack, and the manufacturer, finding that there is no

immediate prospect of revival, considers it his duty to have recourse to

short time.

This is precisely what has been going on for the last two years.

Landlords and farmers have curtailed their expenditure in consequence of

the great fall of prices; and the parties who have actually suffered the

most are the tradesmen with whom they commonly deal, and the artisans in

their employment. It is impossible to affect materially the gigantic

interest of agriculture without striking a heavy blow at the prosperity

of home manufactures; and unfortunately these manufactures, or at least

many branches of them, are now liable to foreign competition. If it

should be allowed that this is a true statement of the case—and we

cannot see how it can be controverted—then it will appear that the

working-classes, the vast majority of whom are engaged in producing for

the home market, have lost largely in employment if they have gained by

cheaper food.

And it is most remarkable, that in proportion as food has become cheap

in this country, so has emigration increased. That is apparently one of

the strangest features of the whole case. What contentment can there be

in a nation when the people are deserting their native soil by hundreds

of thousands? They did not do so while the other system was in

operation. Whatever were the faults of Protection, it did not give rise

to scenes like the following, which we find quoted in the _Economist_ of

17th April, as if it were something rather to be proud of than

otherwise. The pious editor entitles it “The Exodus.” Certainly he and

his friends have made Ireland the reverse of a land flowing with milk

and honey:—

“The flight of the population from the south is thus described by the

_Clonmel Chronicle_:—‘The tide of emigration has set in this year more

strongly than ever it has within our memories. During the winter

months, we used to observe solitary groups wending their way towards

the sea-coast, but since the season opened, (and a most beautiful one

it is,) these groups have been literally swelled into shoals, and,

travel what road you may, you will find upon it strings of cars and

drays, laden with women and children and household stuffs, journeying

onward, their final destination being America. In all other parts of

the country it is the same. At every station along the rail, from

Goold’s Cross to Sallins, the third-class carriages receive their

quota of emigrants. The Grand Canal passage-boats, from Shannon

harbour to Sallins, appear every morning at their accustomed hour,

laden down with emigrants and their luggage, on their way to Dublin,

and thence to Liverpool, whence they take shipping for America.’”

And yet this wholesale expatriation is so far from appearing a

disastrous sign, that it does not even excite a word of comment from the

cold-blooded man of calculations. Truly there are various points of

similarity between the constitution of the Free-Trader and the frog!

Remarkable undoubtedly it is, and to be remarked and remembered in all

coming estimates of the character and ability of the men, styling

themselves statesmen, whose measures have led to the frightful

depopulation of a part of the British Empire. Remarkable it is, but not

to be wondered at, seeing that the same thing must occur in every

instance where a great branch of industry is not only checked, but

rendered unprofitable. Succeeding generations will hardly believe that

it was the design of the Whigs and the Free-Traders to feed the Irish

people with foreign grain, and so promote their prosperity, at a time

when their sole wealth was derived from agricultural produce. Just fancy

a scheme for promoting the prosperity of Newcastle by importing to it

coals to be sold at half the price for which that article is at present

delivered at the pit-mouth! Conceive to yourselves the ecstasy which

would prevail in Manchester if Swiss calicoes were brought there to be

vended at rates greatly lower than are now charged by the master

manufacturers! Undoubtedly the people of Newcastle and the operatives of

Manchester would in that case pay less than formerly both for fuel and

clothing—both of them “first articles of necessity;” but we rather

imagine that no long time would elapse before there were palpable

symptoms of a very considerable emigration. And lest, in their grand

reliance in a monopoly of coals and cottons, the Free-Traders should

scoff at our parallels as altogether visionary, we challenge them to

make a trial in a case which is not visionary. _Let them take off the

manufacturing protective duties which still exist, and try the effect of

that measure upon Birmingham, Sheffield, and Paisley._ Of course they

know better than to accept any such challenge; but we warn the

manufacturers—and let them look to it in time—that the day is rapidly

drawing near when all these duties must be repealed, unless justice is

done to the other suffering interests. If they persist in asking Free

Trade, and in refusing all equivalents or reparation for the mischief

they have done, _they shall have Free Trade_, BUT ENTIRE. Then we shall

see whether they—with all their machinery, all their ingenuity, and all

their capital—with all their immunity from burdens which are imposed

upon other classes—with all the stimulus given to them by the

income-tax, now levied since 1842, in order that taxes weighing on the

manufacturing interest might be repealed—can compete on open terms in

the home market with the manufacturers of the Continent. Do not let them

deceive themselves; that reckoning is nigh at hand. They must be content

to accept the measure with which they have meted to others; and we tell

them fairly, that they need not hope that this subject will be any

longer overlooked. _Not one rag of protection can be left to

manufactures of any kind, whether made up or not_, if Free Trade is to

be the commercial principle of the country. If so, the principle must be

universally recognised.

What is now taking place in Ireland, must, ere long, we are convinced,

take place in Britain. Nay, in so far as Scotland is concerned, the same

symptoms are exhibited already, almost in the same degree. In one point

of view, we cannot deplore the emigration. If it is fated that, through

the blindness and cupidity of men whose religious creed consists of

Trade Returns, and whose sole deity is Mammon, the system which has

contributed so much to the greatness and wealth of the nation, and which

has created a garden out of a wilderness, is to be abandoned for ever,

it is better that our people should go elsewhere, and find shelter under

a government which, if not monarchïcal, may be more paternal than their

own. It is a bitter thing, that expatriation; but it has been the

destiny of man since the Fall. They will find fertile land to till in

the prairies of the West—they will have blue skies above them, and a

brighter sun than here; and, if that be any consolation to them in their

exile, they may still contribute to the supply of food to the British

market, without paying, as they must have done had they continued here,

their quota to the taxes of the country. But we must fairly confess that

we feel less sympathy for those who go than for those who are compelled

to linger. Until the home demand is revived—which can only be in

consequence of the enhanced value of home produce—we can see nothing but

additional misery in store for all those artisans and operatives who are

unconnected with the foreign trade. With regard to that trade, we have

yet to learn how it has prospered. Those who are engaged in it admit

that, in spite of increased exports—which, be it remembered, do not by

any means imply increased demand—their reasonable hopes have been

disappointed; and that in regard to the countries from which we now

derive the largest supply of corn, their exports have materially

decreased. That is a symptom of no common significance; for it shows

that, simultaneously with the increase of their agriculture, those

countries are fostering and extending their own manufactures. As for the

other—the home trade—it is, by the unanimous acknowledgment of our

opponents, daily dwindling; and the income of the country—as the last

returns of the property-tax, which do not by any means disclose the

whole amount of the deficit, have shown us—has fallen off six millions

within the last two years. Were we to add the diminution on incomes

under £150 per annum, we have no doubt whatever that the loss would be

found to amount to more than three times that sum. All that is so much

lost to the retailer and home manufacturer. For a time, even yet,

cheapness may serve to palliate and disguise the evil; but it cannot do

so long. Many important branches of industry, such as the iron trade,

are in a state of extreme depression. The evil is not confined to the

mother country; it is impoverishing the fairest parts of our colonial

empire. Some of the sugar-growing colonies are on the verge of

abandonment. Unless a very different policy from that adopted by the

Liberals is pursued and sanctioned by the people of this country, the

catastrophe cannot long be delayed; and then, perhaps, the British

public, though too late, may be instructed as to the relative value of

colonial possessions of our own, and those belonging to states which do

not recognise reciprocity.

Years ago, when the Free-Traders were in the first blush of their

success, and the minds of men were still inflamed with the hot fever of

speculation, the advocates of the new system were requested to state in

what way they proposed to employ that mass of labour which must

necessarily be displaced by the substitution of so much foreign produce

instead of our own. They answered, with the joyousness of enthusiasm,

that there would be room enough and to spare in the factories for every

man who might so be thrown out of employment. It was not until an after

period that the stern and dreary remedy of emigration was prescribed and

enforced—not until it had become apparent from experience that all their

hopes of increased profit from foreign trade and expected reciprocity

were based upon a delusion. Then indeed the misery which had been

created by reckless legislation was exalted into a cause for triumph,

and the Exodus of the poor from the land of their birth, wherein they no

longer could find the means of labour, was represented as a hopeful sign

of the future destinies of the country.

We are very far, indeed, from blaming those who, at the present time,

declare themselves averse to any violent changes, and who think that

some remedy and redress may be given, without having recourse to an

entire alteration of the principle upon which our present commercial

policy is based. It may be that time is yet required before the effects

of Free Trade can be fully felt and appreciated by some of the classes

of this country; and, certainly, the first step which ought to be taken

in the new Parliament, should be a readjustment of taxation,

corresponding to the altered circumstances of the community. Of course,

as this demand is founded strictly upon justice, it will be opposed

strenuously by many of those who glory in their Liberal opinions; but we

believe that the great bulk of the British people, whatever may be their

thoughts on other points, have that regard to justice, that they will

not countenance oppression. It may be that the agricultural classes

cannot yet expect to receive that measure of relief which they have

waited and hoped for so long. The partial failure of the last harvest on

the Continent, though it has not brought up prices to a remunerative

level, has had more than the effect of checking their further decline;

and that circumstance, we are bound to admit, may have some influence on

the minds of many who are slow to believe that foreign importations can

really affect the permanence of British agriculture. The experience of

another season may be necessary to open their eyes. So far as we can

gather from the opinions of men who are engaged in the trade, and who

are best qualified to form a judgment upon such subjects, we may look

almost immediately for a great increase of importations, and a rapid

decline of prices. The failure on the Continent did not extend to the

wheat crop—it was limited to the rye and potatoes, the customary food of

the peasantry; and it is now ascertained that there is a large surplus

of wheat ready to be thrown into our ports. But it would be out of place

to discuss such points just now. The verdict lies with the country, to

which Lord Derby has appealed. If that verdict should not be of a nature

to enable him at once to apply a remedy to agricultural distress, by the

reimposition of a duty on corn, then we must look in the first instance

to such a readjustment of burdens as shall at least give fair play to

the cultivator of the soil. But there is much more than this. The

strength of the Protective case lies in its universal application to all

classes of the community; and it is not we, but our opponents, who

affect to regard it as a question in which no one is interested beyond

the landlord and the tenant. We look upon it as of vital importance to

the retailer, the tradesman, the artisan, and the home manufacturer, and

to all who labour for them; and it appears to us that the time has now

arrived when a full and searching Parliamentary inquiry should be made

on the subject of the cheap loaf in connection with the rate of wages,

and the prosperity of the home trade. Surely the Free-Traders can have

no reason to object to this. They ground their case on philanthropy and

regard to the interest of the poor and labouring man, and in that

respect we are both agreed. Well then;—if, as we think and say,

agricultural distress, occasioned by the low prices which have prevailed

in consequence of the large importations of foreign corn, has had the

effect of lessening employment generally throughout the country—a

position which, in our mind, is much strengthened by the enormous and

unprecedented increase of emigration—surely that proposition is capable

of tangible proof or equally distinct refutation. Let us know, from

authentic sources, not from partial or interested assertion, whether,

along with the cheap loaf, the people have had full and remunerative

employment—whether the condition of the working-classes and of the home

interests has been improved by the change or not. The inquiry

undoubtedly would be an extended, but at the same time a most valuable

one. It would necessarily, in order to arrive at a fair and thorough

understanding of the subject, embrace the present state of every trade

as contrasted with that of former years—it would show us in what way the

home market has been affected by what we must still be allowed to term a

diminution of the means of the purchaser. Surely such a subject as this

is well worth the pains of inquiry. Parliament cannot be better occupied

than in receiving evidence upon the condition of the people. And we

cannot rate too highly, either for the present or the future, the

importance of such an investigation in checking and correcting, or, it

may be, in confirming the doctrines of political economy, as they are

usually quoted and received.

Some, no doubt, may be interested in opposing such an inquiry. We have

little expectation that the Manchester men will accede to any such

reasonable proposal; for, as we have already said, we regard this outcry

of theirs for wild and sweeping reform simply as a ruse to withdraw the

attention of the public from the disastrous effects of their lauded

commercial system. Lord John Russell and his immediate Liberal followers

would probably oppose such an inquiry as impious, because casting a

doubt on the infallibility of Whig tradition. But we are convinced that

sensible and moderate men, of every shade of opinion, would rejoice to

see this vexed question brought to something like a practical test; so

that, whatever policy England may pursue for the future, it shall at

least have for its object that of promoting the welfare and the

happiness of the people.

_Printed by William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh._

-----

Footnote 1:

_Notes on the Distribution of Gold throughout the World._ London:

JAMES WYLD, 1851.

Footnote 2:

_An Historical Inquiry into the Production and Consumption of the

Precious Metals._ By WILLIAM JACOB, Esq., F.R.S. London: 1851.

Footnote 3:

_California: its Past History, its Present Position, its Future

Prospects_, p. 77.

Footnote 4:

We leave our readers to form their own opinion of the following

passage from Mr Theodore Johnson’s “Sights in the Gold

Region:”—Speaking of the _Padres_ of the old mission of San Francisco

Dolores, he says, “That these priests were cognisant of the abundance

of the precious metal at that period is now well known; but they were

members of the extraordinary society of the Jesuits, which, jealous of

its all-pervading influence, and dreading the effect of a large

Protestant emigration to the western as well as to the eastern shores

of America, applied its powerful injunctions of secresy to the members

of the order; and their faithful obedience, during so long a period,

is another proof both of the strength and the danger of their

organisation.”—(Second Edition, p. 104.)

Footnote 5:

Reports of British Association for 1849—Appendix, p. 63.

Footnote 6:

JACOB, i. chap. x. _passim_.

Footnote 7:

Murchison—Reports of British Association, 1849, (Appendix, pp. 61,

62.)

Footnote 8:

“In the Temeswar Bannat the washings were performed exclusively by the

gypsies, who display great skill in finding it. They dig chiefly on

the _banks_ of the river Nera, where more gold is found than in the

bottom of the stream.”—JACOB, i. p. 245.

Footnote 9:

_A Ride over the Rocky Mountains._ By the Hon. HENRY J. COKE, p. 359.

Footnote 10:

_Sights in the Gold Region, and Scenes by the Way._ By THEODORE J.

JOHNSON. Second Edition. New York, 1850.

Footnote 11:

Quoted by JACOB, vol. i. pp. 56, 57.

Footnote 12:

_The Mormons, or Latter-Day Saints_, (a cotemporary history,) p. 227.

London, 1851.

Footnote 13:

JACOB, i. p. 246, note.

Footnote 14:

JACOB, ii. pp. 263, 264, note.

Footnote 15:

A pood is 36 lb. Russian, of which 100 are about 90 English

avoirdupois; and a solotnik, 1–96th of a Russian pound, or about 65½

troy grains.

Footnote 16:

ROSE, _Reise nach dem Ural_, &c., chaps. ii. iv. viii. Berlin, 1842.

Footnote 17:

Compare WYLD, p. 26, with JACOB, ii. pp. 62, 167.

Footnote 18:

JACOB, i. p. 56. In copying the above extract from Diodorus, we

inserted the word _quartz_ in brackets after his word “marble,” under

the impression that the old Egyptian mines were, like the similar ones

in California, really situated in veins of quartz, and not of marble.

We have since communicated with a gentleman who, about twenty years

ago, accompanied M. Linant, a French engineer in the service of

Mehemet Ali, to examine these mines, and he informs us that the gold

was really found in _quartz veins_ traversing a black slaty rock. The

locality, as may be seen in Sharpe’s _Chronology and Geography of

Ancient Egypt_, plate 10, is in the Eastern Desert, about the middle

of the great bend of the Nile, and about the 21st parallel. The

samples of rock brought down by M. Linant were considered rich enough

to justify the despatch of a body of miners, who were subsequently

attacked by the natives, and forced to abandon the place. A strong

government would overcome this difficulty; and modern modes of

crushing and extraction might possibly render the mines more

productive than ever. A very interesting account of these mines is to

be found in a work by Quatremere de Quincy—“_Notice des Pays voisins

de l’Egypte_.”

Footnote 19:

_Ibid._ p. 247.

Footnote 20:

FOURNET, _Etudes sur les Depôts Metallifers_, p. 167.

Footnote 21:

The reader will be interested by satisfying himself of this fact, so

peculiar to Victoria, and so favourable to it as a place of

settlement. He will find it pictured before his eye in the

newly-published small and cheap, but beautifully executed, _School

Physical Atlas_ of Mr Keith Johnston.

Footnote 22:

JACOB, i. p. 55.

Footnote 23:

_Ibid._ ii. p. 267.

Footnote 24:

FOURNET, p. 169.

Footnote 25:

Cortes invaded Mexico in 1519; Pizarro landed in Peru in 1527; and

Potosi was discovered in 1545.

Footnote 26:

ROSE, _Reise nach dem Ural_, i. 555–7.

Footnote 27:

To some of our readers this remark may call to mind the beautiful

process of Mr Lee Pattinson, of Newcastle, for refining lead, by which

so much more silver is now extracted from all our lead ores, and

brought to market.

Footnote 28:

_Commercial Dictionary_, edit. 1847, p. 1056.

Footnote 29:

Quoted in JOHNSTON’S _Notes on North America_, vol. ii. pp. 216, 217.

Footnote 30:

_The Life and Letters of Barthold George Niebuhr, with Essays on his

Character and Influence._ By the Chevalier BUNSEN and Professors

BRANDIS and LOEBALL. In 2 vols.

Footnote 31:

Every one remembers that Goethe’s last words are said to have been,

“More Light;” and perhaps what has occurred in the text may be

supposed a plagiarism from those words. But, in fact, nothing is more

common than the craving and demand for light a little before death.

Let any consult his own sad experience in the last moments of those

whose gradual close he has watched and tended. What more frequent than

a prayer to open the shutters and let in the sun? What complaint more

repeated, and more touching, than “that it is growing dark?” I once

knew a sufferer—who did not then seem in immediate danger—suddenly

order the sick room to be lit up as if for a gala. When this was told

to the physician, he said gravely, “No worse sign.”

Footnote 32:

_Claret and Olives, from the Garonne to the Rhone._ By ANGUS B. REACH.

London: 1852.

Footnote 33:

Mr Spackman, in his _Analysis of the Occupations of the People_,

states the whole number of persons employed in manufactures of every

kind at 1,440,908; the total

annual value of their production in 1841, at

£187,184,292

Whereof, for the Home Trade, £128,600,000

For the Foreign Trade, 58,584,292

———————————— 187,184,292

------------------------------------------------------------------------

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in

spelling.

2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.

3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.