completely agreed than on the necessity of restraining and punishing
corruption in the election of Members of Parliament. The evils of
corruption are doubtless very great; but it appears to me that those
evils which are attributed to corruption may, with equal justice, be
attributed to intimidation, and that intimidation produces also some
monstrous evils with which corruption cannot be reproached. In both
cases alike the elector commits a breach of trust. In both cases alike
he employs for his own advantage an important power which was confided
to him, that it might be used, to the best of his judgment, for the
general good of the community. Thus far corruption and intimidation
operate in the same manner. But there is this difference betwixt the two
systems; corruption operates by giving pleasure, intimidation by giving
pain. To give a poor man five pounds causes no pain: on the contrary
it produces pleasure. It is in itself no bad act: indeed, if the five
pounds were given on another occasion, and without a corrupt object, it
might pass for a benevolent act. But to tell a man that you will reduce
him to a situation in which he will miss his former comforts, and in
which his family will be forced to beg their bread, is a cruel act.
Corruption has a sort of illegitimate relationship to benevolence, and
engenders some feelings of a cordial and friendly nature. There is a
notion of charity connected with the distribution of the money of the
rich among the needy, even in a corrupt manner. The comic writer who
tells us that the whole system of corruption is to be considered as a
commerce of generosity on one side and of gratitude on the other, has
rather exaggerated than misrepresented what really takes place in
many of these English constituent bodies where money is lavished to
conciliate the favour and obtain the suffrages of the people. But in
intimidation the whole process is an odious one. The whole feeling on
the part of the elector is that of shame, degradation, and hatred of the
person to whom he has given his vote. The elector is indeed placed in a
worse situation than if he had no vote at all; for there is not one of
us who would not rather be without a vote than be compelled to give it
to the person whom he dislikes above all others.
Thinking, therefore, that the practice of intimidation has all the evils
which are to be found in corruption, and that it has other evils which
are not to be found in corruption, I was naturally led to consider
whether it was possible to prevent it by any process similar to that by
which corruption is restrained. Corruption, you all know, is the subject
of penal laws. If it is brought home to the parties, they are liable to
severe punishment. Although it is not often that it can be brought
home, yet there are instances. I remember several men of large property
confined in Newgate for corruption. Penalties have been awarded
against offenders to the amount of five hundred pounds. Many members of
Parliament have been unseated on account of the malpractices of their
agents. But you cannot, I am afraid, repress intimidation by penal laws.
Such laws would infringe the most sacred rights of property. How can I
require a man to deal with tradesmen who have voted against him, or to
renew the leases of tenants who have voted against him? What is it that
the Jew says in the play?
"I'll not answer that,
But say it is my humour."
Or, as a Christian of our own time has expressed himself, "I have a
right to do what I will with my own." There is a great deal of weight
in the reasoning of Shylock and the Duke of Newcastle. There would be
an end of the right of property if you were to interdict a landlord
from ejecting a tenant, if you were to force a gentleman to employ a
particular butcher, and to take as much beef this year as last year.
The principle of the right of property is that a man is not only to
be allowed to dispose of his wealth rationally and usefully, but to
be allowed to indulge his passions and caprices, to employ whatever
tradesmen and labourers he chooses, and to let, or refuse to let, his
land according to his own pleasure, without giving any reason or asking
anybody's leave. I remember that, on one of the first evenings on which
I sate in the House of Commons, Mr Poulett Thompson proposed a censure
on the Duke of Newcastle for His Grace's conduct towards the electors of
Newark. Sir Robert Peel opposed the motion, not only with considerable
ability, but with really unanswerable reasons. He asked if it was meant
that a tenant who voted against his landlord was to keep his lease for
ever. If so, tenants would vote against a landlord to secure themselves,
as they now vote with a landlord to secure themselves. I thought, and
think, this argument unanswerable; but then it is unanswerable in favour
of the ballot; for, if it be impossible to deal with intimidation by
punishment, you are bound to consider whether there be any means of
prevention; and the only mode of prevention that has ever been suggested
is the ballot. That the ballot has disadvantages to be set off against
its advantages, I admit; but it appears to me that we have only a choice
of evils, and that the evils for which the ballot is a specific remedy
are greater than any which the ballot is likely to produce. Observe with
what exquisite accuracy the ballot draws the line of distinction between
the power which we ought to give to the proprietor and the power which
we ought not to give him. It leaves the proprietor the absolute power
to do what he will with his own. Nobody calls upon him to say why he
ejected this tenant, or took away his custom from that tradesman. It
leaves him at liberty to follow his own tastes, to follow his strangest
whims. The only thing which it puts beyond his power is the vote of the
tenant, the vote of the tradesman, which it is our duty to protect. I
ought at the same time to say, that there is one objection to the
ballot of a very serious nature, but which I think may, nevertheless, be
obviated. It is quite clear that, if the ballot shall be adopted, there
will be no remedy for an undue return by a subsequent scrutiny. Unless,
therefore, the registration of votes can be counted on as correct,
the ballot will undoubtedly lead to great inconvenience. It seems,
therefore, that a careful revision of the whole system of registration,
and an improvement of the tribunal before which the rights of the
electors are to be established, should be an inseparable part of any
measure by which the ballot is to be introduced.
As to those evils which we have been considering, they are evils which
are practically felt; they are evils which press hard upon a large
portion of the constituent body; and it is not therefore strange, that
the cry for a remedy should be loud and urgent. But there is another
subject respecting which I am told that many among you are anxious, a
subject of a very different description. I allude to the duration of
Parliaments.
It must be admitted that for some years past we have had little reason
to complain of the length of Parliaments. Since the year 1830 we
have had five general elections; two occasioned by the deaths of two
Sovereigns, and three by political conjunctures. As to the present
Parliament, I do not think that, whatever opinion gentlemen may
entertain of the conduct of that body, they will impute its faults to
any confidence which the members have that they are to sit for seven
years; for I very much question whether there be one gentleman in the
House of Commons who thinks, or has ever thought, that his seat is worth
three years' purchase. When, therefore, we discuss this question,
we must remember that we are discussing a question not immediately
pressing. I freely admit, however, that this is no reason for not fairly
considering the subject: for it is the part of wise men to provide
against evils which, though not actually felt, may be reasonably
apprehended. It seems to me that here, as in the case of the ballot,
there are serious considerations to be urged on both sides. The
objections to long Parliaments are perfectly obvious. The truth is that,
in very long Parliaments, you have no representation at all. The mind
of the people goes on changing; and the Parliament, remaining unchanged,
ceases to reflect the opinion of the constituent bodies. In the old
times before the Revolution, a Parliament might sit during the life
of the monarch. Parliaments were then sometimes of eighteen or twenty
years' duration. Thus the Parliament called by Charles the Second soon
after his return from exile, and elected when the nation was drunk with
hope and convulsed by a hysterical paroxysm of loyalty, continued to sit
long after two-thirds of those who had heartily welcomed the King
back from Holland as heartily wished him in Holland again. Since the
Revolution we have not felt that evil to the same extent: but it must be
admitted that the term of seven years is too long. There are, however,
other considerations to set off against this. There are two very serious
evils connected with every general election: the first is, the violent
political excitement: the second is, the ruinous expense. Both these
evils were very greatly diminished by the Reform Act. Formerly these
were things which you in Scotland knew nothing about; but in England
the injury to the peace and morals of society resulting from a general
election was incalculable. During a fifteen days' poll in a town of one
hundred thousand inhabitants, money was flowing in all directions; the
streets were running with beer; all business was suspended; and there
was nothing but disturbance and riot, and slander, and calumny, and
quarrels, which left in the bosoms of private families heartburnings
such as were not extinguished in the course of many years. By limiting
the duration of the poll, the Reform Act has conferred as great a
blessing on the country,--and that is saying a bold word,--as by any
other provision which it contains. Still it is not to be denied that
there are evils inseparable from that state of political excitement into
which every community is thrown by the preparations for an election. A
still greater evil is the expense. That evil too has been diminished by
the operation of the Reform Act; but it still exists to a considerable
extent. We do not now indeed hear of such elections as that of Yorkshire
in 1807, or that of Northumberland in 1827. We do not hear of elections
that cost two hundred thousand pounds. But that the tenth part of that
sum, nay, that the hundredth part of that sum should be expended in a
contest, is a great evil. Do not imagine, Gentlemen, that all this evil
falls on the candidates. It is on you that the evil falls. The effect
must necessarily be to limit you in your choice of able men to serve
you. The number of men who can advance fifty thousand pounds is
necessarily much smaller than the number of men who can advance five
thousand pounds; the number of these again is much smaller than the
number of those who can advance five hundred pounds; and the number of
men who can advance five hundred pounds every three years is necessarily
smaller than the number of those who can advance five hundred pounds
every seven years. Therefore it seems to me that the question is one of
comparison. In long Parliaments the representative character is in some
measure effaced. On the other side, if you have short Parliaments, your
choice of men will be limited. Now in all questions of this sort, it
is the part of wisdom to weigh, not indeed with minute accuracy,--for
questions of civil prudence cannot be subjected to an arithmetical
test,--but to weigh the advantages and disadvantages carefully, and then
to strike the balance. Gentlemen will probably judge according to their
habits of mind, and according to their opportunities of observation.
Those who have seen much of the evils of elections will probably incline
to long Parliaments; those who have seen little or nothing of these
evils will probably incline to a short term. Only observe this, that,
whatever may be the legal term, it ought to be a year longer than that
for which Parliaments ought ordinarily to sit. For there must be a
general election at the end of the legal term, let the state of the
country be what it may. There may be riot; there may be revolution;
there may be famine in the country; and yet if the Minister wait to
the end of the legal term, the writs must go out. A wise Minister will
therefore always dissolve the Parliament a year before the end of the
legal term, if the country be then in a quiet state. It has now been
long the practice not to keep a Parliament more than six years. Thus
the Parliament which was elected in 1784 sat till 1790, six years;
the Parliament of 1790 till 1796, the Parliament of 1796 to 1802, the
Parliament of 1812 to 1818, and the Parliament of 1820 till 1826. If,
therefore, you wish the duration of Parliaments to be shortened to three
years, the proper course would be to fix the legal term at four years;
and if you wish them to sit for four years, the proper course would be
to fix the legal term at five years. My own inclination would be to fix
the legal term at five years, and thus to have a Parliament practically
every four years. I ought to add that, whenever any shortening of
Parliament takes place, we ought to alter that rule which requires that
Parliament shall be dissolved as often as the demise of the Crown takes
place. It is a rule for which no statesmanlike reason can be given; it
is a mere technical rule; and it has already been so much relaxed that,
even considered as a technical rule, it is absurd.
I come now to another subject, of the highest and gravest importance:
I mean the elective franchise; and I acknowledge that I am doubtful
whether my opinions on this subject may be so pleasing to many here
present as, if I may judge from your expressions, my sentiments on
other subjects have been. I shall express my opinions, however, on this
subject as frankly as I have expressed them when they may have been more
pleasing. I shall express them with the frankness of a man who is more
desirous to gain your esteem than to gain your votes. I am for the
original principle of the Reform Bill. I think that principle excellent;
and I am sorry that we ever deviated from it. There were two deviations
to which I was strongly opposed, and to which the authors of the bill,
hard pressed by their opponents and feebly supported by their friends,
very unwillingly consented. One was the admission of the freemen to vote
in towns: the other was the admission of the fifty pound tenants at will
to vote in counties. At the same time I must say that I despair of being
able to apply a direct remedy to either of these evils. The ballot might
perhaps be an indirect remedy for the latter. I think that the system of
registration should be amended, that the clauses relating to the payment
of rates should be altered, or altogether removed, and that the elective
franchise should be extended to every ten pound householder, whether
he resides within or without the limits of a town. To this extent I am
prepared to go; but I should not be dealing with the ingenuousness which
you have a right to expect, if I did not tell you that I am not prepared
to go further. There are many other questions as to which you are
entitled to know the opinions of your representative: but I shall only
glance rapidly at the most important. I have ever been a most determined
enemy to the slave trade, and to personal slavery under every form. I
have always been a friend to popular education. I have always been a
friend to the right of free discussion. I have always been adverse to
all restrictions on trade, and especially to those restrictions which
affect the price of the necessaries of life. I have always been adverse
to religious persecution, whether it takes the form of direct penal
laws, or of civil disabilities.
Now, having said so much upon measures, I hope you will permit me to
say something about men. If you send me as your representative to
Parliament, I wish you to understand that I shall go there determined
to support the present ministry. I shall do so not from any personal
interest or feeling. I have certainly the happiness to have several kind
and much valued friends among the members of the Government; and there
is one member of the Government, the noble President of the Council, to
whom I owe obligations which I shall always be proud to avow. That noble
Lord, when I was utterly unknown in public life, and scarcely known even
to himself, placed me in the House of Commons; and it is due to him
to say that he never in the least interfered with the freedom of my
parliamentary conduct. I have since represented a great constituent
body, for whose confidence and kindness I can never be sufficiently
grateful, I mean the populous borough of Leeds. I may possibly by
your kindness be placed in the proud situation of Representative of
Edinburgh; but I never could and never can be a more independent Member
of the House of Commons than when I sat there as the nominee of Lord
Lansdowne. But, while I acknowledge my obligations to that noble person,
while I avow the friendship which I feel for many of his colleagues,
it is not on such grounds that I vindicate the support which it is my
intention to give them. I have no right to sacrifice your interests to
my personal or private feelings: my principles do not permit me to do
so; nor do my friends expect that I should do so. The support which I
propose to give to the present Ministry I shall give on the following
grounds. I believe the present Ministry to be by many degrees the best
Ministry which, in the present state of the country, can be formed.
I believe that we have only one choice. I believe that our choice is
between a Ministry substantially,--for of course I do not speak of
particular individuals,--between a Ministry substantially the same that
we have, and a Ministry under the direction of the Duke of Wellington
and Sir Robert Peel. I do not hesitate to pronounce that my choice is in
favour of the former. Some gentleman appears to dissent from what I say.
If I knew what his objections are, I would try to remove them. But it
is impossible to answer inarticulate noises. Is the objection that the
government is too conservative? Or is the objection that the government
is too radical? If I understand rightly, the objection is that the
Government does not proceed vigorously enough in the work of Reform. To
that objection then I will address myself. Now, I am far from denying
that the Ministers have committed faults. But, at the same time, I make
allowances for the difficulties with which they are contending; and
having made these allowances, I confidently say that, when I look back
at the past, I think them entitled to praise, and that, looking forward
to the future, I can pronounce with still more confidence that they are
entitled to support.
It is a common error, and one which I have found among men, not only
intelligent, but much conversant in public business, to think that in
politics, legislation is everything and administration nothing. Nothing
is more usual than to hear people say, "What! another session gone and
nothing done; no new bills passed; the Irish Municipal Bill stopped in
the House of Lords. How could we be worse off if the Tories were in?"
My answer is that, if the Tories were in, our legislation would be in as
bad a state as at present, and we should have a bad administration into
the bargain. It seems strange to me that gentlemen should not be
aware that it may be better to have unreformed laws administered in a
reforming spirit, than reformed laws administered in a spirit hostile to
all reform. We often hear the maxim, "Measures not men," and there is
a sense in which it is an excellent maxim. Measures not men, certainly:
that is, we are not to oppose Sir Robert Peel simply because he is Sir
Robert Peel, or to support Lord John Russell simply because he is Lord
John Russell. We are not to follow our political leaders in the way in
which my honest Highland ancestors followed their chieftains. We are not
to imitate that blind devotion which led all the Campbells to take the
side of George the Second because the Duke of Argyle was a Whig, and
all the Camerons to take the side of the Stuarts because Lochiel was a
Jacobite. But if you mean that, while the laws remain the same, it is
unimportant by whom they are administered, then I say that a doctrine
more absurd was never uttered. Why, what are laws? They are mere words;
they are a dead letter; till a living agent comes to put life into them.
This is the case even in judicial matters. You can tie up the judges
of the land much more closely than it would be right to tie up the
Secretary for the Home Department or the Secretary for Foreign Affairs.
Yet is it immaterial whether the laws be administered by Chief Justice
Hale or Chief Justice Jeffreys? And can you doubt that the case is still
stronger when you come to political questions? It would be perfectly
easy, as many of you must be aware, to point out instances in which
society has prospered under defective laws, well administered, and other
instances in which society has been miserable under institutions that
looked well on paper. But we need not go beyond our own country and our
own times. Let us see what, within this island and in the present year,
a good administration has done to mitigate bad laws. For example, let us
take the law of libel. I hold the present state of our law of libel to
be a scandal to a civilised community. Nothing more absurd can be found
in the whole history of jurisprudence. How the law of libel was abused
formerly, you all know. You all know how it was abused under the
administrations of Lord North, of Mr Pitt, of Mr Perceval, of the
Earl of Liverpool; and I am sorry to say that it was abused, most
unjustifiably abused, by Lord Abinger under the administration of the
Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel. Now is there any person who will
pretend to say that it has ever been abused by the Government of
Lord Melbourne? That Government has enemies in abundance; it has been
attacked by Tory malcontents and by Radical malcontents; but has any one
of them ever had the effrontery to say that it has abused the power of
filing ex officio informations for libel? Has this been from want of
provocation? On the contrary, the present Government has been libelled
in a way in which no Government was ever libelled before. Has the law
been altered? Has it been modified? Not at all. We have exactly the
same laws that we had when Mr Perry was brought to trial for saying that
George the Third was unpopular, Mr Leigh Hunt for saying that George the
Fourth was fat, and Sir Francis Burdett for expressing, not perhaps in
the best taste, a natural and honest indignation at the slaughter which
took place at Manchester in 1819. The law is precisely the same; but if
it had been entirely remodelled, political writers could not have had
more liberty than they have enjoyed since Lord Melbourne came into
power.