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PRACTICAL POLITICS
or the
LIBERALISM OF TO-DAY
BY
ALFRED F. ROBBINS
AUTHOR OF
_"Five Years of Tory Rule;" "William Edward Forster, the Man and
his Policy;" "The Marquis of Salisbury, a Personal and
Political Sketch," &c._
_REPRINTED FROM THE "HALFPENNY WEEKLY"_
London
T. FISHER UNWIN
26 PATERNOSTER SQUARE
1888
TO
My Father,
WHOSE DEVOTION TO LIBERAL PRINCIPLES
HAS FOR SIXTY YEARS
NEVER WAVERED,
THIS WORK,
THE OUTCOME OF HIS EXCELLENT TEACHING AND
CONSISTENT EXAMPLE,
IS
AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.
PREFACE.
The Articles here republished are from the columns of the _Halfpenny
Weekly_, to the Proprietors of which the Author is indebted for much
courtesy and consideration. They were written originally in the form of
letters to a friend, but, though they stand substantially as first
printed, various alterations have been made consequent upon the
necessities of a permanent rather than a serial form. The Author does
not profess to have exhaustively discussed every political question
which is of practical importance to-day--for that, within the limits
assigned, would have been impossible; but he has attempted to furnish a
body of information regarding the principles and aims of present-day
Liberalism, not easily accessible elsewhere, which may be useful to
those whose ideas upon public affairs are yet unformed, and helpful to
the political cause he holds dear.
_May, 1888._
CONTENTS
PAGE
I. WHAT IS THE USE OF A VOTE? 11
II. IS THERE ANYTHING PRACTICAL IN POLITICS? 16
III. WHY NOT LET THINGS ALONE? 21
IV. OUGHT ONE TO BE A PARTISAN? 25
V. WHY NOT HAVE A "NATIONAL" PARTY? 31
VI. IS ONE PARTY BETTER THAN THE OTHER? 35
VII. WHAT ARE LIBERAL PRINCIPLES? 41
VIII. ARE LIBERALS AND RADICALS AGREED? 47
IX. WHAT ARE THE LIBERALS DOING? 52
X. SHOULD HOME RULE BE GRANTED TO IRELAND? 58
XI. WHAT SHOULD BE DONE WITH THE LORDS? 66
XII. IS THE HOUSE OF COMMONS PERFECT? 71
XIII. IS OUR ELECTORAL SYSTEM COMPLETE? 77
XIV. SHOULD THE CHURCH REMAIN ESTABLISHED? 83
XV. WOULD DISENDOWMENT BE JUST? 89
XVI. OUGHT EDUCATION TO BE FREE? 97
XVII. DO THE LAND LAWS NEED REFORM? 102
XVIII. SHOULD WASTE LANDS BE TILLED AND THE GAME LAWS ABOLISHED? 107
XIX. OUGHT LEASEHOLDS TO BE ENFRANCHISED? 112
XX. WHOSE SHOULD BE THE UNEARNED INCREMENT? 117
XXI. HOW SHOULD LOCAL SELF-GOVERNMENT BE EXTENDED? 122
XXII. HOW IS LOCAL OPTION TO BE EFFECTED? 127
XXIII. WHY AND HOW ARE WE TAXED? 132
XXIV. HOW OUGHT WE TO BE TAXED? 137
XXV. HOW IS TAXATION TO BE REDUCED? 144
XXVI. IS FREE TRADE TO BE PERMANENT? 149
XXVII. IS FOREIGN LABOUR TO BE EXCLUDED? 155
XXVIII. HOW SHOULD WE GUIDE OUR FOREIGN POLICY? 160
XXIX. IS A PEACE POLICY PRACTICABLE? 165
XXX. HOW SHOULD WE DEAL WITH THE COLONIES? 171
XXXI. SHOULD THE STATE SOLVE SOCIAL PROBLEMS? 177
XXXII. HOW FAR SHOULD THE STATE INTERFERE? 182
XXXIII. SHOULD THE STATE REGULATE LABOUR OR WAGES? 188
XXXIV. SHOULD THE STATE INTERFERE WITH PROPERTY? 194
XXXV. OUGHT THE STATE TO FIND FOOD AND WORK FOR ALL? 197
XXXVI. HOW OUGHT WE TO DEAL WITH SOCIALISM? 200
XXXVII. WHAT SHOULD BE THE LIBERAL PROGRAMME? 205
XXXVIII. HOW IS THE LIBERAL PROGRAMME TO BE ATTAINED? 211
XXXIX. IS PERFECTION IN POLITICS POSSIBLE? 216
XL. WHERE SHALL WE STOP? 220
PRACTICAL POLITICS.
I.--WHAT IS THE USE OF A VOTE?
There are many persons, who, though possessing the suffrage, often put
the question, "What is the use of a vote?" Giving small heed to
political affairs, the issue of elections has as little interest for
them as the debates in Parliament; and they imagine that the process of
governing the country is mainly a self-acting one, upon which their
individual effort could have the least possible effect.
This idea is wrong at the root, and the cause of much mischief in
politics. We are governed by majorities, and every vote counts. Even the
heaviest polls are sometimes decided by a majority of a single figure.
In the history of English elections, many instances could be found
wherein a member was returned by the narrowest majority of all--the
majority of one; and when a member so elected has been taunted with its
slenderness, he has had a right to reply, as some have replied, in
well-known words: "'Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church
door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve." And not only in the
constituencies, but in Parliament itself, decisions have been arrived at
by a solitary vote. The great principle animating the first Reform Bill
was thus adopted by the House of Commons; and the measure shortly
afterwards was taken to the country with the advantage thus given it.
As, therefore, everything of importance in England is decided first in
the constituencies, and then in Parliament, by single votes, it is
obvious that in each possessor of the franchise is vested a power which,
however apparently small when compared with the enormous number of
similar possessors elsewhere, may have a direct bearing in turning an
election, the result of which may affect the fate of some important
bill.
So far most will doubtless agree without demur; but, in their
indifference to political questions, may think that it is only those
interested in them who have any real concern with elections. This is
another mistake, for political questions are so intimately bound up with
the comfort, the fortune, and even the fate of every citizen of a free
country, that, although he may shut his eyes to them, they press upon
him at every turn. It would be a very good world if each could do as he
liked and none be the worse; but the world is not so constituted, and it
is politics that lessen the consequent friction. For the whole system of
government is covered by the term; and there is not an hour of the day
in which one is free from the influence of government.
It is not necessary for one to be conscious of this in order to be
certain that it is so. When he is in perfect health he is not conscious
that every part of his body is in active exercise, but, if he stumble
over a chair, he is made painfully aware of the possession of shins. And
so with the actions of government. As long as things work smoothly the
majority of people give them little heed, but, if an additional tax be
levied, they are immediately interested in politics. And although taxes
are not the least unpleasant evidence that there is such a thing as a
government, it is far from the most unpleasant that could be afforded.
The issues of peace and war lie in the hands of Parliament, although
nominally resting with the Executive, for Parliament can speedily end a
war by stopping the supplies; and it is not necessary to show how the
progress and result of an armed struggle might affect each one of us.
The State has a right to call upon every citizen for help in time of
need, and that time of need might come very quickly at the heels of a
disastrous campaign. It is easy enough in times of peace to imagine that
such a call upon every grown man will never be made; but it is a
possible call, and one to be taken into account when the value of a vote
is considered.
Those who are sent to Parliament have thus the power of embarking in
enterprises which may diminish one's revenue by increased taxation and
imperil his life by enforced service. And in matters of less importance,
but of considerable effect upon both pocket and comfort, they wield
extensive powers. They can extend or they can lessen our liberties; they
can interfere largely with our social concerns; their powers are nowhere
strictly defined, and are so wide as to be almost illimitable. And for
the manner in which they exercise those powers, each man who possesses a
vote is in his degree responsible.
There are persons who affect, from the height of a serene indifference,
to look down upon all political struggles as the mere diversions of a
lower mental order. That kind of being, or any approach to its attitude
of mind, should be avoided by all who wish well to the government of the
country. To sit on the fence, and rail at the ploughman, because his
boots are muddy and his hands unwashed, is at once useless and
impertinent; and to stand outside the political field, and endeavour to
hinder those who are doing their best within, deserves the same
epithets. When it is said that hypocrites, and humbugs, and self-seekers
abound in politics, and that there is no place there for honest men,
does not the indictment appear too sweeping? Has not the same argument
been used against religion; and is it not one of the poorest in the
whole armoury of controversy? If there are hypocrites, and humbugs, and
self-seekers in politics--and no candid person would deny it, any more
than that there are such in religion, in business, in science, and in
art--is it not the more necessary that every honest man should try and
root them out? If every honest man abstained from politics, with what
right could he complain that all politicians were rogues? But no sober
person believes that all politicians are rogues, and those superior
beings who talk as if they are deserve condemnation for doing nothing to
purify the political atmosphere.
Some who would not go so far as those who are thus condemned, still
labour under the idea that politics are more or less a game, to the
issue of which they can afford to be indifferent. This, it may be
feared, is the notion of many, and it is one to be earnestly combatted.
Every man owes the duty to the State to assist, as far as he can, those
whom he considers the best and wisest of its would-be governors. There
is nobility in the idea that every elector can do something for the
national welfare by thoughtfully and straightforwardly exercising the
franchise, and aiding the cause he deems best. Young men especially
should entertain this feeling, for youth is the time for burning
thoughts, and it is not until a man is old that he can afford to
smoulder. The future is in the hands of the young of to-day; and if
these are indifferent to the great issues of State, and are prepared to
let things drift, a rude awakening awaits them.
The details of political work need not here be entered upon. All that is
now wanted is to show that that work is of very real importance to every
one; and that, unless taken in hand by the honest and capable, it will
fall to the dishonest and incapable for accomplishment. And as the vote
is a right to which every free Englishman is entitled, and a trust each
possessor of which should be called upon to exercise, there ought not to
remain men on the registers who persistently decline to use it. Absentee
landlords have been the curse of Ireland, and they will have to be got
rid of. Abstentionist voters might, in easily conceivable circumstances,
be the curse of England, and they would have to be got rid of likewise.
The value of a vote may be judged from the fact that it saves the
country from a periodical necessity for revolution. Everything in our
Constitution that wants altering can be altered at the ballot-box; and
whereas the vote-less man has no direct influence upon those affairs of
State which affect him as they affect every other citizen, the possessor
of the franchise can make his power directly felt. We are within sight
of manhood, it may be of adult, suffrage; and if the vote were of no
value it would be folly--almost criminal folly--to extend its use. Those
who deem it folly are of a practically extinct school in English
politics. For better or worse, the few are now governed by the many,
and the many will never again be governed by the few.
Those who are of the many may be tempted to urge that that very fact
lessens the worth of the vote in that every elector has the same value
at the polling booth, and that, however intelligent may be the interest
he takes in politics, his ignorant neighbour's vote counts the same as
his own. But that is to forget what every one who mixes with his
fellow-men must soon learn--that the intelligent have a weight of
legitimate influence upon their less-informed fellows which is
exceedingly great. Our vote counts for no more than that of the man who
has sold his suffrage for beer; but our influence may have brought
twenty waverers to the poll, while that of our beer-drinking
acquaintance has brought none.
A cynic has observed that "politics are a salad, in which office is the
oil, opposition the vinegar, and the people the thing to be devoured."
But to approach public affairs from that point, and to judge them solely
on that principle, is as reasonable as to use green spectacles and
complain of the colour of the sky. Politics should be looked at without
prejudice, but with the recollection that in them are concerned many of
our best and wisest men. If that be done, and the mind kept open for the
reception of facts, there is little doubt of the admission that there is
a deep reality in politics, and a reality in which every one is
concerned.
II.--IS THERE ANYTHING PRACTICAL IN POLITICS?
All will possibly admit that, in conceivable circumstances, a vote may
be useful, but many will not be prepared to allow that politics are an
important factor in our daily life. War, they would urge, is a remote
contingency, and a conscription is, of all unlikely things, the most
unlikely; our liberties have been won, and there is no chance of a
despot sitting on the throne; and, even if taxes are high, what can any
one member of Parliament, much less any one elector, do to bring them
down? From which questions, and from the answers they think must be made
to them, they would draw the conclusion that, whatever might have been
the case formerly, there is nothing practical in the politics of to-day.
It would not be hard to show that a conscription is by no means an
impossibility; that our liberties demand constant vigilance; and that
individual effort may greatly affect taxation. But even if the answer
desired were given to each question, the points raised, except the last,
are admittedly remote from daily life; and, if politics are to be
considered practical, they must concern affairs nearer to us. This they
do; and if they affected only the greater issues of State, they would
not be practical in the sense they now are. It is the small troubles,
whether public or private, which worry us most. The dust in one's eye
may be only a speck, but, measured by misery, it is colossal.
The law touches us upon every side, and the law is the outcome of
politics in having been enacted by Parliament. From the smallest things
to the greatest, the Legislature interferes. A man cannot go into a
public-house after a certain hour because of one Act of Parliament; he
cannot deal with a bank upon specified days because of another. One Act
of Parliament orders him, if a householder, to clean his pavement;
another prohibits him from building a house above a given height in
streets of a certain width. And while the law takes care of one's
neighbour by affixing a well-known penalty to murder, it is so regardful
of oneself that it absolutely prohibits suicide. We are surrounded, in
fact, by a network of regulations provided by Parliament. We are no
sooner born than the law insists upon our being registered; we cannot
marry without the interference of the same august power; and when we
die, those who are left behind must comply with the formalities the law
demands.
It may be answered that this does not sound like politics; that there is
nothing of Liberal or Tory in all this; but there is. Liberals, for
instance, have been mainly identified with the demand for the better
regulation of public-houses; it is to the Liberals that we owe a
long-called-for reform in the burial laws; and it is due to the Liberals
that a change in the marriage regulations, particularly affecting
Nonconformists, is on the eve of being adopted. Social questions are not
necessarily divorced from party concerns, and the moment Parliament
touches them they become political. If one looks down a list of the
measures presented to the House of Commons he will see that from the
purity of beer to the protection of trade-marks, from the enactment of a
close-time for hares to the provision of harbours of refuge, from a
declaration of the size of saleable crabs to the disestablishment of a
Church--every subject which concerns a man's external affairs,
political, social, or religious, is dealt with by Parliament.
Even if only those political matters are regarded which have a
distinctly partisan aspect, there is more that is practical in them than
would at first be perceived. "What," it may be asked, "is local option,
or county councils, or 'three acres and a cow' to me? I have no
particular liking for drink; I have not the least ambition to become a
combination of guardian and town councillor; and I am in no way
interested in agricultural concerns. When you require me to take an
active part in promoting the measures here indicated, how, I want to
know, am I concerned in any one of them?"
The answer is that any and all of them should concern the questioner a
great deal. He imagines he is not directly interested because of the
reasons put forward. Is he certain those reasons cover the whole case?
He has "no particular liking for drink," and, therefore, would not
trouble himself to obtain local option. But has he not been a
sufficiently frequent witness of the crime and misery caused by drink to
be persuaded that it is the duty of every good citizen to do all that in
him lies to lessen the evil effects? And as such good results have
flowed from the stricter regulation of the sale of intoxicating liquors,
ought it not to be his endeavour to place a further power of regulation
in the hands of those most interested--the people themselves?
Establishing county councils may not touch the individual citizen so
nearly, though it is in that direction that a solution of the local
option problem is being attempted to be found; and the supposed
questioner has "not the least ambition to become a combination of
guardian and town councillor." Perhaps not; other people have, and it is
a legitimate ambition that does them honour. The work performed by town
councillors, and guardians, and members of school boards is excellent
service, not only to the locality but the State. The freedom which
England enjoys to-day is largely owing to the habits of self-government
fostered by local institutions, the origin of which is as old as our
civilization, and the roots of which have sunk deeply into the soil. And
seeing how our towns have thriven since their government was taken from
a privileged few and given to the whole body of their inhabitants, is
there not fair reason to hope that the county districts will similarly
be benefitted by institutions equally representative and equally free?
And, as the improvement of a part has good effect upon the whole, even
those who may never have a direct connection with the suggested county
councils, will profit by their establishment.
With equal certainty it may be asserted that the condition of the
labourer is of practical importance to every citizen. "I am in no way
interested in agricultural concerns," it is said; and if by that is
simply meant that the objector does not work upon a farm, has no direct
dealings with agricultural produce, and no money invested in land, he,
of course, would be right. But even these conditions do not exhaust the
possibilities of connection with agriculture, which is the greatest
single commercial interest this country possesses; and, so
inter-dependent are the various interests, if the largest of all is not
in a satisfactory state the others are bound to suffer. It is those
others in which most of us may be specially concerned, but we are
generally concerned in agriculture; and as the latter cannot be at its
best as long as the labourers are in their present condition, is it not
obvious that all are interested in every honest endeavour to get that
condition improved? This is not the moment to argue the details of any
plan; but the principle is plain--the condition of the agricultural
labourer has passed into the region of practical politics.
There is a school among us, and perhaps a growing one, which, affecting
to despise such matters as these, wishes to make the State a huge
wage-settling and food-providing machine. If one talks to its members of
public affairs, they reply that the only practical politics is to give
bread-and-cheese to the working classes. But fact is wanted instead of
theory, demonstration rather than declamation, and, in place of a
platitude, a plan. For it is easy to talk of a State, in which there
shall be no misery, no poverty, and no crime; but the practical
politician will want to know how this is to be secured; and while
waiting for a plain answer, will decline to be drawn from the questions
of the immediate present.
No one need sigh for other political worlds to conquer while even such
problems as have just been noted ask for settlement; and there are
further departments of public affairs which demand attention, and which
are pressing to the front. Most would admit that a vote may be useful
sometimes. I say it is useful always. All would own that the greater
matters of law and liberty may fairly be called practical politics. I
add that the lesser matters with which Parliament has to deal, and which
affect us daily, are equally worthy the name. Let one look around and
say if "everything is for the best in this best of all possible worlds."
If he cannot, he ought to strive for the reform of that which is not for
the best. And as long as he has to strive for that reform, so long will
there be something practical in politics.
III.--WHY NOT LET THINGS ALONE?
"Why can't you let things alone?" is a question which has often been put
by those who either care little for politics or who wish to stave off
reform. It was the favourite exclamation of a Whig Prime Minister, Lord
Melbourne, and it is still used by many worthy persons as if it were
really applicable to matters of government. "Things"--that is public
affairs--can no more be let alone than one can let himself alone, or his
machinery alone, or his business alone. The secret of perpetual motion
has not been discovered in the State any more than in science. If one is
a workman and leaves things alone, he will be dismissed; if a tradesman
or manufacturer, he will become bankrupt; if a property-owner, ruin will
equally follow. A man would not leave his face alone because it had been
washed yesterday; he would not argue that as a face it was a very good
face, and that one thorough cleansing should last it a lifetime. And the
Constitution needs as careful looking after as one's business or his
body.
A sound Radical of a couple of centuries ago--and though the name
Radical had not then been invented, the man Radical was frequently to
the fore--put this point in plain words. "All governments and societies
of men," said Andrew Marvell, "do, in process of time, gather an
irregularity and wear away. And, therefore, the true wisdom of all ages
hath been to review at fit periods those errors, defects, or excesses
that have crept into the public administration; to brush the dust off
the wheels and oil them again, or, if it be found necessary, to choose a
set of new ones." And if Marvell be objected to as an authority, one can
be given which should satisfy even the staunchest Conservative. "There
was never anything by the wit of man so well devised or so sure
established which in the continuance of time hath not been corrupted."
That expression of opinion is not taken from any Whig, Liberal, or
Radical source, but from the preface to the Book of Common Prayer.
There is an older authority still, and that is the proverb which says "A
stitch in time saves nine." One can scarcely read a page of English
constitutional history without seeing the advances made in the comfort,
prosperity, and liberty of the people by timely reform; and no man would
seriously urge our going back to the old standpoints. Yet every reform,
though we may now all agree that it was for the greatest good of the
greatest number, was opposed by hosts of people, who talked about "the
wisdom of our ancestors," and asked, "Why can't you let things alone?"
It may be said that the grievances under which men labour to-day are
nothing like as great as those against which our fathers fought.
Happily--and thanks to the enthusiasts of old--that is so; but if they
are grievances, whether small or large, they ought to be removed. There
are some who think that a man with a grievance is a man to be
pitied--and put on one side. But, even if those so afflicted are apt to
prove bores, such complaints as are well founded should be attended to.
It is a fact beyond question that there is no finality in politics, and,
to take two examples from the present century--the Reform Act of 1832,
which was thought by its authors to be a "final" measure, and at the Act
of Union with Ireland, which the first Salisbury Administration
described in their Queen's Speech as "a fundamental law"--it will be
seen that the dream of finality in each case has been and is being
roughly dispelled. What man has done, man can do--and can undo.
The instances mentioned deserve a closer examination, because they so
perfectly show the impossibility of standing still in political affairs.
If ever there was a measure which statesmen of both parties held to be
final, the Reform Act was that one. During the discussions upon it, the
word "finality" was more than once used; Sir Robert Peel two years later
declared that he considered it "a final and irrevocable settlement of a
great constitutional question;" and in 1837, as in 1832, its author,
Lord John Russell, spoke of it as "a final measure." Final it was in the
sense that England would never go back to the days of borough-mongering,
but there the finality ended. As early as the year after it passed, a
Liberal member declared in his place in the House that "he for one had
never conceded the monstrous principle that any legislative measure was
to be final; still less had he ever conceded the yet more monstrous
principle that the members of that House were entitled by any sort of
compromise to barter away the rights and privileges of the people." The
views thus plainly laid down have been put in practice by men of both
parties; the ten-pound franchise of 1832 gave place in 1867 to household
suffrage for the boroughs, and this in 1884 was extended to the
counties. So much for the "finality" of the one great Act of this
century to which the word has been applied.
The so-called "fundamental law" of the Union with Ireland is threatened
with alteration and amendment in the same fashion as the "final" Reform
Act. Already, by the disestablishment of the Irish Church, a large hole
has been made in it; and a larger will be made when Home Rule is gained.
There is in England no law of so "fundamental" a nature that it cannot
be mended or ended just as the people wish. No generation has power to
bind its successors; and if the Parliament of 1800 was able to make the
Legislative Union, the Parliament of to-day is able to unmake it. Upon
this point--and it affects not only the general question now being
argued, but a particular question yet to be discussed--one of the most
distinguished "Liberal Unionists" may be quoted. Mr. Bright, speaking at
Liverpool in the summer of 1868, observed--"I have never said that
Irishmen are not at liberty to ask for and, if they could accomplish it,
to obtain the repeal of the Union. I say that we have no right whatever
to insist upon a union between Ireland and Great Britain upon our terms
only.... I am one of those who admit--as every sensible man must
admit--that an Act which the Parliament of the United Kingdom has
passed, the Parliament of the United Kingdom can repeal. And further, I
am willing to admit what everybody in England allows with regard to
every foreign country, that any nation, believing it to be its
interest, has a right both to ask for and to strive for national
independence." If, then, even a "fundamental law" can be got rid of, if
occasion demands and the people wish, what hope can the most lukewarm
have that things will be let alone?
Politics, in fact, may fairly be called a sort of see-saw: we are
constantly going up and down, and can never be still. As long as a
public grievance remains unremedied, so long will there be a call for
reform; and one may be sure that, though he may come to a ripe old age,
he will not live enough years to see every wrong made right. Some may
hide behind the question put and answered eighteen centuries ago; may
ask, as was then asked, "Who is my neighbour?" and may seek to avoid
doing as they would be done by. But, as citizens of a free State, they
have no right to shirk their duty to those around them. No man who looks
at society with open eyes can doubt that much can be done by the
Legislature to better the conditions of daily life. We do wrong if we
allow others to suffer when efforts of ours can remove at least some of
their pain.
Therefore, things cannot be let alone in politics any more than in daily
life; and even if they could, it would not be right to let them. It does
not need that one should give all his leisure moments to politics, and
all the energies he can spare from business to public life. But it does
need that he should pay some heed to that which concerns his fellow-man
and the society in which he lives; and all should be politicians in
their degree, not for love of place, or power, or excitement, but
because politics really mean much to the happiness and welfare of the
State.
IV.--OUGHT ONE TO BE A PARTISAN?
When we come from "first principles" to the more immediate topics of the
day, party considerations at once enter in; and to the question, "Ought
one to be a partisan?" I answer "Certainly." On the political barometer
a man ought distinctly to indicate the side he takes--not stand in the
middle and point to "change."
There is a great deal talked of the beauty of non-partisanship, of the
necessity for looking at public matters in a clear white light, and of
the exceeding glory of those who put country before party. Such of this
as is not commonplace is cant, and in politics Johnson's advice to
"clear your mind of cant" is especially to be taken. When a public man
talks of putting his country before his party, he surely implies that he
has been in the habit of putting his party before his country, and that
man's record should be carefully scanned. For it will very often be
found that those who boast of placing country before party place
themselves before either.
"Party is a body of men united for promoting by their joint endeavours
the national interest upon some particular in which they are all
agreed." That is Burke's definition, and it holds good to-day. Superfine
folk speak as if there were something derogatory in the fact of
belonging to a party, some lessening of liberty of judgment, some
forfeiting of conscience. That need not be. There must be give-and-take
among members of the same party, just as there must be among those of
the same household, of the same religious connection, and often of the
same business concern. The necessity to bear and to forbear is as
obvious in politics as in other matters of daily life, which is only
saying in a different fashion that in politics, as in everything, a
man's angles have to be rubbed off if he is to work in company with
anybody else. But he gives up a portion of his opinions only to retain
or strengthen those he considers essential. A Churchman is still a
Churchman whether he is labelled High, Low, or Broad; he may believe
with Canon Knox-Little, with Bishop Ryle, or with Archdeacon Farrar, and
continue a member of the Established Church; and it is only when
conscience compels him to differ from them all upon some essential point
of doctrine or practice that he becomes a Protestant Dissenter, a
Unitarian, a Roman Catholic, or, it may be, an Atheist.
As with religion, so with politics. A Conservative is still a
Conservative, whether he be called a Constitutionalist, a Tory Democrat,
a Tory, or, as Mr. William Henry Smith was accustomed to describe
himself, an Independent-Liberal-Conservative. He may be of the school of
the late Mr. Newdegate, of Lord Salisbury, or of Lord Randolph
Churchill, and the party bond is elastic enough to embrace him. And when
it is remembered that the name "Liberal" covers all sorts and conditions
of friends of progress, from Lord Hartington to Mr. Labouchere, it will
be seen that a man must be querulous indeed who cannot find rest for the
sole of his foot in one or other of the great parties of the State.
No doubt it is easy to quote opinions from some eminent persons in
condemnation of the party system. There is a saying of Dr. Arnold that a
Liberal is "one who gets up every morning in the full belief that
everything is an open question;" and with this may be coupled a chance
expression of Carlyle, that "an English Whig politician means generally
a man of altogether mechanical intellect, looking to Elegance,
Excitement, and a certain refined Utility as the Highest; a man halting
between two Opinions, and calling it Tolerance;" while there may be
added the quotation, better known than either, "Conservatism discards
Prescription, shrinks from Principle, disavows Progress; having rejected
all respect for Antiquity, it offers no redress for the Present, and
makes no preparation for the Future." It was the author of these last
words who uttered also the caustic remark, "It seems to me a barren
thing, this Conservatism, an unhappy cross-breed; the mule of politics,
that engenders nothing." And that author was Benjamin Disraeli,
afterwards Earl of Beaconsfield.
Of course, this merely shows that hard things have been and can be said
of all parties, but if they have been as bad as thus represented, is it
not strange that England has done so well under their rule? It may be
replied that, whatever has been the case, the fact now is that the old
parties are dead, and the idea may be echoed of those who wish to keep
the Tories in power, that only "Unionists" and "Separatists" are left;
but, setting aside the circumstance that the Liberals emphatically
disclaim the latter title, the facts are against the original
assumption.
The history of our Constitution will show that parties bring the best
men to the front, groups the worst--the most pushing, pertinacious, and
impudent of those among them. And when men talk, as some are talking
to-day, of new combinations--combinations of persons rather than of
principles--to take the place of the old parties, they should be watched
carefully to see whether they do not degenerate, as other men in similar
circumstances have done, into mere hungry scramblers for place.
Much of the flabby feeling which pervades some minds in antagonism to
partisanship has been nourished by the cry of "measures, not men." "To
attack vices in the abstract, without touching persons, may be safe
fighting indeed, but it is fighting with shadows." These words of Pope
were taken by Junius to enforce his opinion that "'measures and not men'
is the common cant of affected moderation--a base counterfeit language,
fabricated by knaves and made current among fools." "What does it
avail," he asked, "to expose the absurd contrivance or pernicious
tendency of measures if the man who advises or executes shall be
suffered not only to escape with impunity, but even to preserve his
power?" If this opinion be put aside as being only that of a clever but
venomous pamphleteer, an equally strong condemnation of the old
cuckoo-cry can be quoted from the greatest philosopher who ever
practically dealt with English politics. "It is an advantage," said
Burke, "to all narrow wisdom and narrow morals, that their maxims have a
plausible air, and, on a cursory view, appear equal to first principles.
They are light and portable. They are as current as copper coin, and
about as valuable. They serve equally the first capacities and the
lowest; and they are at least as useful to the worst men as the best. Of
this stamp is the cant of 'not men, but measures'; a sort of charm by
which many people get loose from every honourable engagement." And, if
we go to the gaiety of Goldsmith from the gravity of Burke, it is
significant that the author of "The Good-Natured Man" puts in the mouth
of a bragging political liar and cheat the expression, "Measures, not
men, have always been my mark."
But, it is sometimes said, the very fact of not being a partisan argues
freedom from prejudice. Does it not equally argue freedom from
principle? If a man holds a principle strongly, he can hardly avoid
being what the unthinking call prejudiced. It is surely better to be
fast anchored to a principle, even at the risk of being called
prejudiced, than to be swayed hither and thither by every passing
breeze, like the "independent" politician--defined by the late Lord
Derby as "a politician not to be depended upon"--with the liability of
being wrecked by some more than usually stirring gust.
We have only to look at the political history of the past half-century
to find that it is the "prejudiced" men who have done good work, and the
"independent" politicians who have made shipwreck of their public lives.
The former held their principles firmly; they lost no opportunity of
pushing them to the front; and success attended their efforts. As for
the politicians who were too proud, or too unstable, or too quarrelsome
to work in harness with their fellows, the shores of our public life
have been strewn with their wrecks. The glorious opportunities for good
that were missed by Lord Brougham, the wasted career of the once popular
Roebuck are matters of history. And in our own day we can point to Earl
Grey and Mr. Cowen--and the narrow escape from a similar fate of Mr.
Goschen--as striking instances of the fact that no good thing in
politics can be done by men who cannot or will not join with a great
party to secure the ends for which they strive. The independent
politician, in fact, must of necessity appear an incomplete sort of
man--always leading up to something and never getting it; everlastingly
striking the quarters, but never quite reaching the finished hour.
It is not only, however, the crotchety man, or the quarrelsome man, or
the tactless man, who, because he cannot work with anybody else, poses
as "independent." There are also "men of no decided character, without
judgment to choose, and without courage to profess any principle
whatever--such men can serve no cause for this plain reason, they have
no cause at heart." Burke here clearly describes a large section of
"armchair politicians," who turn many an election without a distinct
idea of what will be the ultimate result of their action. They are of
the kind even more forcibly characterized by Dryden a century before--
Damn'd neuters, in their middle way of steering,
Are neither fish, nor flesh, nor good red herring;
Nor Whigs, nor Tories they; nor this, nor that;
Nor birds, nor beasts; but just a kind of bat;
A twilight animal; true to neither cause,
With Tory wings, but Whiggish teeth and claws.
Trimmers of this type live and flourish to-day as they lived and
flourished in the age of Dryden and of Burke, and the airs they give
themselves of superiority over the ordinary run of politicians deserve
all the ridicule men of more practical tendencies can pour upon them.
One would fancy that it must sometimes occur even to them that, as in
warfare the efforts of two opposing mobs, led by generals who
perpetually differed among themselves, would cause more rapine and
confusion, and ensure an even less satisfactory result, than those of
two armies captained by men accustomed to discipline, and striking blows
only where blows could be effective; so in the constant movement of
public affairs a multitude of wrangling counsellors would bring ruin
upon the State, where a struggle between two opposing parties,
representing distinct principles, would clear a path in which it could
safely tread.
No one, therefore, should be frightened out of taking part in politics
by the idea that there is anything wrong in being a partisan. A working
man joins a trade union, in order that by strengthening his fellows he
may strengthen himself; a religious man becomes a member of a Christian
church, so as to assist in spreading the truth he cherishes; and any one
who dearly holds a political principle ought to attach himself to a
party, that he may secure for that principle the success which, if it is
worth believing in, is worth striving for.
V.--WHY NOT HAVE A "NATIONAL" PARTY?
It is sometimes asked, even by those who would agree generally that
partisanship is not unworthy, whether all the old distinctions of
Liberal and Conservative, Tory and Radical, are not out of date, and
whether it is not possible to form a "National" party. The idea of such
a formation has been "in the air" for a long time, and has been put
forward with more frequency since the breach in the Liberal ranks upon
the Irish question. But although politicians as eminent as Mr.
Chamberlain and Lord Randolph Churchill have given countenance to the
idea, it has as yet resulted in nothing of practical value.
Mr. Chamberlain has argued that "our old party names have lost their
force and meaning," but, even if they had, the suggested appellation
must be held to be a misnomer. It is a contradiction in terms. If the
whole nation be agreed upon a certain course, it is not a national
"party" which advocates it; if it be not agreed, no section, no
half-plus-one, has the right to arrogate to itself the adjective. The
last time any faction did so was at the general election of 1880, when
the supporters of Lord Beaconsfield attempted to claim the title even
when they were being swept out of their seats wholesale by the flowing
tide of national indignation. All honest politicians work for what they
consider the benefit of the nation, and no portion of them has a title
to assume that it alone is righteous.
The inappropriateness of the name, moreover, is not only general but
particular. The proposed combination, according to the statesman already
quoted, is to "exclude only the extreme sections of the party of
reaction on the one hand, and the party of anarchy on the other." But
who is to define how far a reactionary may go without being considered
"extreme," and who in the English Parliament is "an anarchist"?
Further, a "national party" must be presumed to represent the
nation--that is the whole of the United Kingdom. But the projected body,
if it opposed Home Rule, would ignore the wishes of 85 out of the 101
popularly elected representatives of Ireland; 44 out of the 70 popularly
elected representatives of Scotland; and 26 out of the 30 popularly
elected representatives of Wales; as well as the whole body of the
Gladstonian Liberals in England. At the last general election, 1,423,765
persons in this kingdom cast their votes on the "Unionist," and
1,341,131 on the Liberal side; and the latter number could scarcely be
ignored when a "national" party is being formed.
In accordance with the words of the immortal Mr. Taper--"A sound
Conservative Government, I understand; Tory men and Whig measures"--the
Tories have promised to bring in Liberal Bills; but the process will be
regarded by many with the same feelings as those of Mr. Disraeli when he
charged Sir Robert Peel with the petty larceny of Whig ideas, as did
Lord Cranborne (now Lord Salisbury) when he denounced Mr. Disraeli's
political legerdemain in perpetrating a similar offence, and as did
another prominent politician when he said, "The consistency of our
public life, the honour of political controversy, the patriotism of
statesmen, which should be set above all party considerations--these are
things which have been profaned, desecrated, and trampled in the mire by
this crowd of hungry office-seekers who are now doing Radical work in
the uniform of Tory Ministers.... I will say frankly that I do not like
to win with such instruments as these. A democratic revolution is not to
be accomplished by aristocratic perverts; and I believe that what the
people desire will be best carried into effect by those who can do so
conscientiously and honestly, and not by those who yield their assent
from purely personal or party motives." These words were spoken in 1885;
and the speaker was Mr. Chamberlain.
The new party to exist must have organization, and as by its very
constitution all Liberal and Radical associations would have to be
excluded, the Primrose League alone would be ready to hand. But he who
pays the piper calls the tune, and what that tune would be can easily be
guessed. Liberals and Radicals would necessarily be kept out of the
combination, for men who consider themselves entitled to twenty
shillings in the pound, and who might be content to accept ten as an
instalment, would not take ten as payment in full of some of their
bills, and a "first and final dividend" of nothing on others they hold
of value. And the Radicals and other Gladstonian Liberals being left
out, the remaining party must be overwhelmingly Conservative, and the
fighting opinion of a party is that of its majority.
It is thus not an enticing prospect for any thoroughgoing lover of
progress. What hope is there of a sound reform of the House of Lords
from a party closely wedded to the aristocracy? Of disestablishment in
Scotland and Wales, to say nothing of England, from a party relying for
much of its power upon the clergy? Of a drastic change in the land or
the game laws from a party propped up by landlords and game preservers?
Of an improved magistracy from a party deriving great influence from the
country squires? Of a popular veto upon licensing from a party to which
belong nine-tenths of the publicans? Of a progressive income tax or the
more equitable arrangement of the death duties from a party which has
become increasingly attractive to the large capitalists? Of, in fact,
any great reform whatsoever from a party which places "vested interests"
in the forefront to the frequent exclusion of justice?
A party formed in the fashion thus projected would be simply a house of
cards, carefully built, as such houses usually are, by those who have
nothing better to do--pretty to look at, but turned over by the first
breeze. Lobby combinations such as this are hothouse plants; brought
into the open they die. In Carlyle's "French Revolution," much ridicule
is poured upon the wondrous paper constitutions of the Abbe Sieyes,
which somehow would not "march." Within the last few years the Duc de
Broglie was famous throughout Europe for the clockwork arrangements he
made for France, and the constant failure that awaited them. The
"national party" recalls the works of both duke and abbe, and, like
them, would resemble nothing so much as a flying machine, constructed
upon the most approved principles by really skilled workmen, and
scientifically certain to succeed, but having, when tested, only one
defect--it will not fly.
VI.--IS ONE PARTY BETTER THAN THE OTHER?
It is perfectly natural to be asked, after trying to prove that
partisanship is praiseworthy, and that a "national" party is out of the
question, whether one party is so much better than the other that it
deserves strenuous and continued support. For the purposes of the
argument, it is necessary to consider only the two great parties in the
State--the Liberal and the Tory. These represent the main tendencies
which actuate mankind in public affairs--the go-ahead and the
stand-still. Differences in the expression of these tendencies there are
bound to be, according as circumstances vary; but, generally speaking,
the Tory is the party of those who, being satisfied with things as they
are, are content to stand still, while the Liberal is the party of those
who, thinking there is ample room for improvement, desire to go ahead.