The condition of England at the meeting of Parliament in 1842 was not
satisfactory. The depression of trade in the manufacturing districts
seemed overwhelming, and continued increasing during the whole of the
year. A memorial from Stockport to the Queen in the spring represented
that more than half the master spinners had failed, and that no less
than three thousand dwelling-houses were untenanted. One-fifth of the
population of Leeds were dependent on the poor-rates. The state of
Sheffield was not less severe--and the blast furnaces of Wolverhampton
were extinguished. There were almost daily meetings, at Liverpool,
Manchester, and Leeds, to consider the great and increasing distress of
the country, and to induce ministers to bring forward remedial measures;
but as these were impossible, violence was soon substituted for
passionate appeals to the fears or the humanity of the government. Vast
bodies of the population assembled in Staleybridge, and Ashton, and
Oldham, and marched into Manchester.
For a week the rioting was unchecked, but the government despatched a
strong military force to that city, and order was restored.
The state of affairs in Scotland was not more favourable. There were
food riots in several of the Scotch towns, and in Glasgow the multitude
assembled, and then commenced what they called a begging tour, but which
was really a progress of not disguised intimidation. The economic crisis
in Ireland was yet to come, but the whole of that country was absorbed
in a harassing and dangerous agitation for the repeal of the union
between the two countries.
During all this time, the Anti-Corn Law League was holding regular
and frequent meetings at Manchester, at which statements were made
distinguished by great eloquence and little scruple. But the able
leaders of this confederacy never succeeded in enlisting the sympathies
of the great body of the population. Between the masters and the workmen
there was an alienation of feeling, which apparently never could be
removed. This reserve, however, did not enlist the working classes on
the side of the government; they had their own object, and one which
they themselves enthusiastically cherished. And this was the Charter, a
political settlement which was to restore the golden age, and which the
master manufacturers and the middle classes generally looked upon
with even more apprehension than Her Majesty’s advisers. It is hardly
necessary to add, that in a state of affairs like that which is here
faintly but still faithfully sketched, the rapid diminution of the
revenue was inevitable, and of course that decline mainly occurred in
the two all-important branches of the customs and excise.
There was another great misfortune also which at this trying time hung
over England. The country was dejected. The humiliating disasters of
Afghanistan, dark narratives of which were periodically arriving, had
produced a more depressing effect on the spirit of the country than all
the victories and menaces of Napoleon in the heyday of his wild career.
At home and abroad, there seemed nothing to sustain the national spirit;
financial embarrassment, commercial and manufacturing distress, social
and political agitation on the one hand, and on the other, the loss
of armies, of reputation, perhaps of empire. It was true that these
external misfortunes could hardly be attributed to the new ministry--but
when a nation is thoroughly perplexed and dispirited, it soon ceases
to make distinctions between political parties. The country is out of
sorts, and the “government” is held answerable for the disorder.
Thus it will be seen, that, though the new ministry were supported by a
commanding majority in parliament, and that, too, after a recent appeal
to the country, they were not popular, it may be truly said they were
even the reverse. The opposition, on the other hand, notwithstanding
their discomfiture, and, on some subjects, their disgrace, were by no
means disheartened, and believed that there were economical causes at
work, which must soon restore them to power.
The minister brought forward his revision of the tariff, which was
denounced by the League as futile, and in which anathema the opposition
soon found it convenient to agree. Had the minister included in his
measure that “total and immediate repeal” of the existing corn laws
which was preached by many as a panacea, the effect would have been
probably much the same. No doubt a tariff may aggravate, or may
mitigate, such a condition of commercial depression as periodically
visits a state of society like that of England, but it does not produce
it. It was produced in 1842, as it had been produced at the present
time, by an abuse of capital and credit, and by a degree of production
which the wants of the world have not warranted.
And yet all this time, there were certain influences at work in
the great body of the nation, neither foreseen, nor for some time
recognised, by statesmen and those great capitalists on whose opinion
statesmen much depend, which were stirring, as it were, like the
unconscious power of the forces of nature, and which were destined to
baffle all the calculations of persons in authority and the leading
spirits of all parties, strengthen a perplexed administration, confound
a sanguine opposition, render all the rhetoric, statistics, and
subscriptions of the Anti-Corn Law League fruitless, and absolutely make
the Chartists forget the Charter.
“My friends will not assist themselves by resisting the government
measures,” said Mr. Neuchatel, with his usual calm smile, half
sceptical, half sympathetic. “The measures will do no good, but they
will do no harm. There are no measures that will do any good at this
moment. We do not want measures; what we want is a new channel.”
That is exactly what was wanted. There was abundant capital in the
country and a mass of unemployed labour. But the markets on which they
had of late depended, the American especially, were overworked and
overstocked, and in some instances were not only overstocked, but
disturbed by war, as the Chinese, for example--and capital and labour
wanted “a new channel.”
The new channel came, and all the persons of authority, alike political
and commercial, seemed quite surprised that it had arrived; but when
a thing or a man is wanted, they generally appear. One or two lines of
railway, which had been long sleepily in formation, about this time were
finished, and one or two lines of railway, which had been finished for
some time and were unnoticed, announced dividends, and not contemptible
ones. Suddenly there was a general feeling in the country, that its
capital should be invested in railways; that the whole surface of the
land should be transformed, and covered, as by a network, with these
mighty means of communication. When the passions of the English,
naturally an enthusiastic people, are excited on a subject of finance,
their will, their determination, and resource, are irresistible. This
was signally proved in the present instance, for they never ceased
subscribing their capital until the sum entrusted to this new form of
investment reached an amount almost equal to the national debt; and this
too in a very few years. The immediate effect on the condition of the
country was absolutely prodigious. The value of land rose, all the blast
furnaces were relit, a stimulant was given to every branch of the home
trade, the amount suddenly paid in wages exceeded that ever known
in this country, and wages too at a high rate. Large portions of the
labouring classes not only enjoyed comfort, but commanded luxury.
All this of course soon acted on the revenue, and both customs and
especially excise soon furnished an ample surplus.
It cannot be pretended that all this energy and enterprise were free in
their operation from those evils which, it seems, must inevitably attend
any extensive public speculation, however well founded. Many of the
scenes and circumstances recalled the days of the South Sea Scheme.
The gambling in shares of companies which were formed only in name was
without limit. The principal towns of the north established for that
purpose stock exchanges of their own, and Leeds especially, one-fifth of
whose population had been authoritatively described in the first session
of the new parliament as dependent on the poor-rates, now boasted a
stock exchange which in the extent of its transactions rivalled that of
the metropolis. And the gambling was universal, from the noble to the
mechanic. It was confined to no class and to no sex. The scene which
took place at the Board of Trade on the last day on which plans could be
lodged, and when midnight had arrived while crowds from the country were
still filling the hall, and pressing at the doors, deserved and required
for its adequate representation the genius of a Hogarth. This was the
day on which it was announced that the total number of railway projects,
on which deposits had been paid, had reached nearly to eight hundred.
What is remarkable in this vast movement in which so many millions were
produced, and so many more promised, is, that the great leaders of the
financial world took no part in it. The mighty loan-mongers, on whose
fiat the fate of kings and empires sometimes depended, seemed like
men who, witnessing some eccentricity of nature, watch it with mixed
feelings of curiosity and alarm. Even Lombard Street, which never was
more wanted, was inactive, and it was only by the irresistible pressure
of circumstances that a banking firm which had an extensive country
connection was ultimately forced to take the leading part that was
required, and almost unconsciously lay the foundation of the vast
fortunes which it has realised, and organise the varied connection which
it now commands. All seemed to come from the provinces, and from unknown
people in the provinces.
But in all affairs there must be a leader, and a leader appeared. He
was more remarkable than the movement itself. He was a London tradesman,
though a member of parliament returned for the first time to this House
of Commons. This leader was Mr. Vigo.
Mr. Vigo had foreseen what was coming, and had prepared for it. He
agreed with Mr. Neuchatel, what was wanted was “a new channel.” That
channel he thought he had discovered, and he awaited it. He himself
could command no inconsiderable amount of capital, and he had a
following of obscure rich friends who believed in him, and did what he
liked. His daily visits to the City, except when he was travelling
over England, and especially the north and midland counties, had their
purpose and bore fruit. He was a director, and soon the chairman and
leading spirit, of a railway which was destined to be perhaps our most
important one. He was master of all the details of the business; he had
arrived at conclusions on the question of the gauges, which then was
a _pons asinorum_ for the multitude, and understood all about rolling
stock and permanent ways, and sleepers and branch lines, which were then
cabalistic terms to the general. In his first session in parliament he
had passed quietly and almost unnoticed several bills on these matters,
and began to be recognised by the Committee of Selection as a member who
ought to be “put on” for questions of this kind.
The great occasion had arrived, and Mr. Vigo was equal to it. He was one
of those few men who awake one day and find themselves famous. Suddenly
it would seem that the name of Mr. Vigo was in everybody’s mouth. There
was only one subject which interested the country, and he was recognised
as the man who best understood it. He was an oracle, and, naturally,
soon became an idol. The tariff of the ministers was forgotten, the
invectives of the League were disregarded, their motions for the repeal
of the corn laws were invariably defeated by large and contemptuous
majorities. The House of Commons did nothing but pass railway bills,
measures which were welcomed with unanimity by the House of Lords, whose
estates were in consequence daily increasing in value. People went to
the gallery to see Mr. Vigo introduce bills, and could scarcely restrain
their enthusiasm at the spectacle of so much patriotic energy, which
secured for them premiums for shares, which they held in undertakings of
which the first sod was not yet cut. On one morning, the Great Cloudland
Company, of which he was chairman, gave their approval of twenty-six
bills, which he immediately introduced into parliament. Next day, the
Ebor and North Cloudland sanctioned six bills under his advice, and
affirmed deeds and agreements which affected all the principal railway
projects in Lancashire and Yorkshire. A quarter of an hour later, just
time to hurry from one meeting to another, where he was always received
with rampant enthusiasm, Newcastle and the extreme north accepted his
dictatorship. During a portion of two days, he obtained the consent of
shareholders to forty bills, involving an expenditure of ten millions;
and the engagements for one session alone amounted to one hundred and
thirty millions sterling.
Mr. Neuchatel shrugged his shoulders, but no one would listen even to
Mr. Neuchatel, when the prime minister himself, supposed to be the most
wary of men, and especially on financial subjects, in the very white
heat of all this speculation, himself raised the first sod on his own
estate in a project of extent and importance.
Throughout these extraordinary scenes, Mr. Vigo, though not free from
excitement, exhibited, on the whole, much self-control. He was faithful
to his old friends, and no one profited more in this respect than
Mr. Rodney. That gentleman became the director of several lines, and
vice-chairman of one over which Mr. Vigo himself presided. No one was
surprised that Mr. Rodney therefore should enter parliament. He came in
by virtue of one of those petitions that Tadpole was always cooking, or
baffling. Mr. Rodney was a supporter of the ministry, and Mr. Vigo was
a Liberal, but Mr. Vigo returned Mr. Rodney to parliament all the
same, and no one seemed astonished or complained. Political connection,
political consistency, political principle, all vanished before the
fascination of premiums.
As for Endymion, the great man made him friendly and earnest overtures,
and offered, if he would give his time to business, which, as he was
in opposition, would be no great sacrifice, to promote and secure his
fortune. But Endymion, after due reflection, declined, though with
gratitude, these tempting proposals. Ferrars was an ambitious man, but
not too imaginative a one. He had a main object in life, and that was to
regain the position which had been forfeited, not by his own fault. His
grandfather and his father before him had both been privy councillors
and ministers of state. There had, indeed, been more than the prospect
of his father filling a very prominent position. All had been lost, but
the secret purpose of the life of Endymion was that, from being a clerk
in a public office, he should arrive by his own energies at the station
to which he seemed, as it were, born. To accomplish this he felt
that the entire devotion of his labour and thought was requisite. His
character was essentially tenacious, and he had already realised no
inconsiderable amount of political knowledge and official experience.
His object seemed difficult and distant, but there was nothing wild or
visionary in its pursuit. He had achieved some of the first steps, and
he was yet very young. There were friends about him, however, who were
not content with what they deemed his moderate ambition, and thought
they discerned in him qualities which might enable him to mount to
a higher stage. However this might be, his judgment was that he must
resist the offers of Mr. Vigo, though they were sincerely kind, and so
he felt them.
In the meantime, he frequently met that gentleman, and not merely in
the House of Commons. Mr. St. Barbe would have been frantically envious
could he have witnessed and perused the social invitations that fell
like a continuous snow-storm on the favoured roof of Mr. Vigo. Mr. Vigo
was not a party question. He dined with high patricians who forgot their
political differences, while they agreed in courting the presence of
this great benefactor of his country. The fine ladies were as eager in
their homage to this real patriot, and he might be seen between rival
countesses, who emulated each other in their appreciation of his public
services. These were Mr. Vigo’s dangerous suitors. He confessed to
Endymion one day that he could not manage the great ladies. “Male
swells,” he would say laughingly, “I have measured physically and
intellectually.” The golden youth of the country seemed fascinated by
his society, repeated his sententious bons-mot, and applied for shares
in every company which he launched into prosperous existence.
Mr. Vigo purchased a splendid mansion in St. James’ Square, where
invitations to his banquets were looked upon almost as commands. His
chief cook was one of the celebrities of Europe, and though he had
served emperors, the salary he received from Mr. Vigo exceeded any one
he had hitherto condescended to pocket. Mr. Vigo bought estates, hired
moors, lavished his money, not only with profusion, but with generosity.
Everything was placed at his command, and it appeared that there was
nothing that he refused. “When this excitement is over,” said Mr. Bertie
Tremaine, “I hope to induce him to take India.”
In the midst of this commanding effulgence, the calmer beam of Mr.
Rodney might naturally pass unnoticed, yet its brightness was clear and
sustained. The Rodneys engaged a dwelling of no mean proportion in
that favoured district of South Kensington, which was then beginning to
assume the high character it has since obtained. Their equipages were
distinguished, and when Mrs. Rodney entered the Park, driving her
matchless ponies, and attended by outriders, and herself bright as
Diana, the world leaning over its palings witnessed her appearance with
equal delight and admiration.