│ │ 1849. │ 1850. │
├─────────────────┼──────────────────┼──────────────────┤
│ │ Per quarter. │ Per quarter. │
│ │_s. d._ _s. d._│_s. d._ _s. d._│
│From Stettin, │4 0 to 2 9 │3 0 │
│ „ Dantzig, │4 0 │3 0 │
│ „ Rostock, │4 0 │ │
│ „ Hamburg, │3 0 │1 9 │
│ „ Rotterdam, │2 0 to 1 9 │1 9 │
│ „ Antwerp, │2 6 to 1 6 │1 3 to 1 0!│
│ „ Bremen, │ │1 6 │
│ „ Bruges, │1 6 │1 6 │
│ „ Ghent, │1 6 │1 6 │
│ „ New York, │ │3 0 │
│ (last │ │ │
│ rates,) │ │ │
│ │ │ │
│_From Coasts of │ │ │
│ England to │ │ │
│ Liverpool._ │ │ │
│ Colchester, │ │1 6 │
│ Woodbridge, │1 9 │1 6 │
│ Salcombe, │ │2 0 │
│ Kingsbridge,│2 0 │ │
│ Lynn, │ │ │
│ Ipswich, │1 9 to 1 6 │1 6 │
│ Yarmouth, │1 10 │ │
└─────────────────┴──────────────────┴──────────────────┘
Yet the freight on wheat was to be a sufficient protection for the
farmer!
I must here, sir, leave the subject to your own powerful pen. I have
given you the facts as I have collated them from the most authentic
sources, and the observations which I have made personally; and they
have more than confirmed the impressions with which I entered upon this
inquiry.— have the honour to be, &c.
ALISON’S POLITICAL ESSAYS.[5]
The collection of scattered periodical essays, especially such as are of
a strictly political character, is an adventure far more perilous to the
reputation of an author than the issue of any single work deliberately
planned, and laboriously executed in the closet. The historian, dealing
solely with the records of the past, reviving or recreating pictures
which have long ago appeared upon the ancient canvass, may without
difficulty arrange his scattered portraits and groups in such an order,
that they shall impress the public mind with a feeling of absolute
novelty. A historical paradox, if ingeniously conceived and plausibly
conveyed, is sure to command attention. The fickleness of the Athenians
was by no means idiosyncratic to that volatile nation. All men weary of
hearing the same phrase and the same judgment invariably repeated. They
suspect the justice of Aristides, or the perfidy of Crookback Richard,
on account of the unanimous verdict, and are by no means displeased when
any daring casuist steps forward, armed with a tolerable array of proof,
to detract from the rigid virtue of the one, or to palliate the vices of
the other. In truth, the materials of all history are so various and
conflicting in their character, that an artist of consummate skill, who
is withal not over-scrupulous, may easily pass off fictions under the
disguise of broad reality. Historical sketches, therefore, which relate
to past events, may be viewed in the light either of lively episodes or
of profound commentaries; and their republication, after a term of
years, can in no way affect the soundness of the author’s judgment.
To republish criticisms, especially such as relate to the works of
cotemporaries, is certainly a more delicate task. It is easy to comment
upon an author whose works have been long before the public, and
frequently and diligently scanned. High criticism may discover beauties
or detect faults which have escaped the notice of less keen and
scrutinising observers; but, in the aggregate, certainly in the majority
of cases, the broad opinion which has been expressed by others is
allowed to remain unchallenged. The influence of previous judgment
invariably sways the critic. None are rash enough to deny the genius of
Shakspeare; at the same time, nothing is more certain than that, were
another Shakspeare to arise amongst us at this moment, there would be no
kind of unanimity as to his deserts. In all ages and in all countries
this has been the rule. Personal spite, unacknowledged and possibly
unperceived envy, party difference of opinion, disparity of station,
prejudice of education—all these, in their turn, have passed, like so
many clouds, between the sun of living genius and the critics who
surveyed its orbit. Nor ought we to overlook the fact that, in many
instances, meteors have been mistaken for suns, and the eyes of the
critic been dazzled by a glare, to which his own willing imagination
lent at least one half its brilliancy. Therefore it is that contemporary
criticism, when republished in an abiding form, rarely satisfies the
expectation of the reader. His own judgment has been formed, apart from
the considerations and prejudices which are so apt to beset the critic;
and he conceives an unfavourable impression of the literary acuteness of
the writer, when he finds a gross discrepancy between the older and the
later estimate.
But far more trying to an author is the republication of political
essays, composed during the progress of great national events. This
branch of composition is peculiar to our own age, in which periodical
literature is so marked and eminent a feature. Pamphleteering is of
venerable date. Sir Thomas More, Milton, Marvell, Swift, and Defoe, were
all notable pamphleteers; but periodical writing, in the highest sense
of the term, is the invention of the present century. That great and
influential organs of public opinion, ranking among their contributors
the men of the highest intellect and the most laborious acquirements,
should have been established in our time, marks not only the development
of the influence of the press, but the importance of the events which
such men are imperatively summoned to discuss. It marks even more, for
it has established a power beyond the boundaries of the old
constitution, which, as it is used or misused, cannot fail to affect
materially the destinies of Great Britain.
Every political treatise referring to events which have engrossed the
attention of the day, either as modifications or as changes of our
social system, must be valuable in later years. It must necessarily
recommend or condemn measures on account of their probable operation in
the time to come; it must in some degree be a prophecy, or else it is
practically worthless. The politician studies the past merely as his
guide for the future. If he is learned, wise, and at all an adept in the
science which he professes—than which no other is of so momentous an
import—he will consider past history as the barometer which must guide
him in predicating the approach either of a tempest or a calm. Temporary
clamour or occasional obstruction will not lead him to forsake clear
principles of action, or to recommend a grand constitutional remedy in
the case of a trifling local disease. He must look forward beyond the
sphere of immediate action—resolute in this belief, that one false step,
however small, may upset the equilibrium of the State. Expediency, the
modern idol, finds little favour in the eyes of the true and sagacious
statesman. He tests measures by their intrinsic value, regardless of the
“pressure from without;” and he looks upon Parliamentary majorities as
of less moment than the maintenance of the real interests of his
country.
If we apply these remarks to our later political history, and to the
conduct of those men whom circumstances have elevated to the highest
stations in Government, we shall at once perceive that the first great
principles of practical statesmanship have been abandoned. The welfare
and integrity of the Empire has been made a subsidiary object to the
triumph of party ambition; and accordingly, CONSISTENCY, that grand test
of a politician’s sincerity and soundness, is the very quality which is
wanting. To consistency, indeed, neither Lord John Russell nor Sir
Robert Peel, for many years the rival chiefs of party, can lay the
slightest claim. They have been playing a long, and, doubtless, an
interesting game, with the map of Britain and its dependencies before
them as a chess-board: they have directed the whole of their energies to
giving checkmate to one another; and with this view they have again and
again altered the relative positions of king and queen, bishops,
knights, castles, and pawns. To counteract the last move of his
adversary was the great object of each of these ingenious players. It
was a pretty trial of dexterity and finesse; but we trust, for the sake
of the chessmen, that the match is finally concluded. Talent of this
kind may, indeed, be available when it is necessary to contend with a
foreign adversary; but it is worse than mischievous when practised
systematically at home.
To have surveyed the political events of the last twenty years with a
calm and dispassionate eye—to estimate the consequences of each
concession to popular clamour, and each move for party purposes—to form
inductions as to the future from the indelible history of the past—to
trace the causes of social misery and disquiet to their remote and
recondite source—to discern the coming cloud of adversity in the midst
of apparent abundance—required more than common thought, learning,
sagacity, and prescience; and the man who has done all this, cannot fail
to be ranked, in the estimation of those whose judgment is of real
value, among the first masters of political and economic science. Many
brilliant commentaries upon passing events, which at the first blush
were received as absolute oracles of wisdom, have utterly failed in
their predictions, and are now consigned to oblivion. They failed—if
from no other cause, at least assuredly from this—that they flowed from
the pens of partisans, whose whole energies were devoted to the
advancement of themselves and their faction. Party spirit, indeed, has
of late years almost entirely overshadowed that patriotism which was
once our highest boast. Truth may be spoken of an opponent—and very
often more than truth; but it is seldom expressed with regard to the
political conduct of those whom men are accustomed to regard as their
friends. Private motives are allowed to interfere with the more rigorous
functions of the censor; the moralist is changed into the apologetic
rhetorician; the judge becomes the interested advocate.
Were the present crisis of our political history less momentous than it
truly is—were not the great and final struggle for a return to the
principles, by means of which our national greatness was achieved, so
near at hand—we might, from motives and considerations easily
appreciable, have left this volume of Mr Alison’s collected political
essays without any special notice. For a long period of years, embracing
the most important changes which have been made in the institutions and
relations of this country, Mr Alison has been a constant contributor to
the Magazine, adopting his own views, enforcing his own opinions,
without reference to the distinctions of party or the position of
individual statesmen. We believe that, in some respects, the attitude of
the Magazine has differed from that assumed by any periodical
publication in the country. It has never been the organ of a Party, and
never subservient to a Government. Many times we have been compelled to
differ from those whose political opinions have been thought most
closely to approximate to our own; and never have we hesitated to
express that difference in clear and unambiguous terms, knowing that a
true and honourable conviction never ought to be concealed, or can be
without affecting the integrity of those who entertain it.
The present publication sufficiently discloses the part which Mr Alison
has taken in the political discussions which have arisen during that
eventful period. They are valuable to the rising generation for two
especial reasons. In the first place, they are a faithful record of the
impressions which passing events made upon the mind of a highly-gifted,
generous, and independent man, the object of whose life was apart from
those pursuits which inflame the passions, whilst they warp the
judgment, of the mere partisan. In the second place, they will enable
the reader to trace, step by step, the innovations which modern
Liberalism has made upon the older limits of the constitution; and to
estimate the consistency of those who at one time affected to be the
opponents of that Liberalism, and at another, whether through weakness,
or treachery, or ambition, came forward to assist in its blind and
infatuated progress.
Perhaps the most interesting papers in the present volume are those
which refer to the memorable and exciting era of the Reform Bill. They
are not only interesting, but highly instructive in a constitutional
point of view, as showing the utter disregard of the Whig faction to the
maintenance of that political framework which, when in power, they
affect to worship with almost superstitious veneration. Never, probably,
was there a period in our history when the passions of the populace were
more dexterously and deliberately excited by men of high station, and by
no means contemptible intellect. Treason was then in vogue: sedition
openly encouraged. Most of us can recollect the ugly and ominous emblems
which were paraded through the streets of the larger towns, and the
violence with which every one supposed to be hostile to the popular
measure was assailed. Haughty aristocrats, like the late Earl Grey,
condescended to treat with Jacobin clubs and political unions; the
physical power of the masses was appealed to as an argument of
irresistible weight, and Whig officials were privy to the plan of a
projected Birmingham insurrection. The voice of reason was entirely
stifled amidst the general democratic howl, and all suggestions as to a
modification of the grand electoral scheme were treated with fierce
hostility. The framers of the measure had no wish that its details
should be narrowly sifted, or submitted to the test of principle. There
was a deep meaning in the phrase, which at that time passed into a
proverb, “The Bill—the whole Bill—and nothing but the Bill!” No other
method of reform, however large and comprehensive, would have suited the
junta who then deemed themselves secure of an interminable lease of
power. And why? Because any other measure which might have embraced the
claim of the Colonies to a share in the Imperial representation, would
have interfered with their special project of lowering the landed
interest, and giving a decided preponderance in Parliament to the votes
of the urban population.
We are far from wishing to maintain that the spirit which animated the
councils of the Conservative leaders of the day was in all respects the
most prudent; or that they did not to a certain extent accelerate the
movement by withholding minor concessions, which might have been
gracefully and advantageously given. But in justice to them it must be
remembered, that they had a great principle to contend for—a principle
too little understood then, and perhaps only now becoming generally
appreciated on account of the pernicious effects which have resulted
from its violation. The older Representative system of Great Britain
might appear to the casual eye artificial, unequal, and therefore
unjust; but it had this grand and wholesome advantage, which we look for
in vain in its successor, that, by means of it, not only were the great
classes of the community at home adequately represented, but our
fellow-subjects of the Colonies could, and did, exercise a direct
influence within the walls of St Stephen’s. To allow this influence to
be encroached on, however covertly or plausibly, seemed tantamount to an
abandonment of the principle by which the Conservative party had been
guided throughout; and subsequent events have shown that no exaggerated
estimate was formed of the tendencies of democratic rule. This
conviction of the prospective danger of the Reform measure to the
integrity of the British Empire was, we know, the main cause of that
early, though perhaps injudicious, resistance to the extension of the
electoral suffrage, which finally gave way before the impulse added to
popular excitement by the example of foreign revolution. As regarded the
welfare of our Colonies, the Reform Bill was virtually a death-blow. It
laid the foundation for a rapid succession of measures, selfish in their
tendency and grossly impolitic, which have already gone far to pervert
the loyal feelings of the Colonists, by teaching them that the mother
country has decided upon a policy altogether injurious to their
interests as subjects of the British Crown. They have had no voice, no
direction in the legislative enactments which have since that time so
deeply affected their prosperity; they have been governed rather as
tributaries than as portions of the Empire; and their complaints have
been too often treated with undisguised contumely, or, at best, with
haughty indifference. Our opinion as to the importance of the
maintenance of our Colonial dominions, and the imminent necessity which
exists of securing that maintenance by giving them some effective voice
in the legislative councils of Great Britain, has been repeatedly
expressed. No other step will suffice to stay the tide of disaffection;
and happy will it be for all of us, if the practical refutation of the
Free-trade delusion, now becoming every day more obvious and
acknowledged, shall lead to such prudent measures, with regard to our
dependencies, as may again consolidate into one great and united mass,
inspired by the same feelings and actuated by the same interests, the
scattered elements of British greatness and renown.
But apart altogether from Colonial considerations, the Reform Bill has
been productive of the most serious consequences to the internal economy
of this country. Under its benign operation the National Debt, instead
of being diminished, is augmented; whilst, at the same time, by a system
of ruinous cheapness, induced by the free admission of foreign produce
to compete in the home market with our own, incomes have been lowered by
nearly a half, and the means of paying the increased taxation have been
proportionably curtailed. We do not believe that the Whigs, while
straining every energy to carry the Reform Bill, meditated the
possibility of any such results. We have their own statements—at least
those of Lords Melbourne and John Russell—to the contrary; and even were
it otherwise, we are not disposed to attribute to that party so great a
share of political prescience, as to assume that they foresaw the
consequences of their own deliberate act.
It was, however, foreseen by others. In 1831, Mr Alison, arguing from
historical precedents, predicted that the natural effect of the passing
of the Reform Bill would be the repeal of the Corn Laws.
“When it is recollected,” wrote he, “that 300 English members of the
Reformed house are to be for the boroughs, and only 150 for the
counties, it may easily be anticipated that this effect is certain.
And in vain will the House of Peers strive to resist such a result:
their power must have been so completely extinguished before the
Reform Bill is past, that any resistance on their part would be
speedily overcome.
“This first and unavoidable consequence of this great change will at
once set the manufacturing classes at variance with the agricultural
interest; and then will commence that fatal war between the different
classes of society, which has hitherto been only repressed by the
weight and authority of a stable, and, in a certain degree, hereditary
government, composed of an intermixture of the representatives of
_all_ interests. When it is recollected that wheat can be raised with
ease in Poland at prices varying from 17s. to 20s. a quarter, and that
it can be laid down on the quay of any harbour in Britain at from 33s.
to 40s., it may easily be anticipated what a revolution in prices
will, in the _first instance_, be effected by this measure. We say in
the _first_ instance—for nothing seems clearer than that the
_ultimate_ effect will be, by throwing a large portion of British land
out of cultivation, and in its stead producing a more extensive growth
of grain on the shores of the Vistula, to restore the equilibrium
between the supply of corn and its consumption, and, by means of
destroying a large portion of British agriculture, raise the prices
again to their former standard.”
We have lately been favoured, from certain quarters, with ingenious
disquisitions touching the probable future price of grain in this
country—disquisitions to which we by no means object, as, apart
altogether from their truth or their falsity, they manifest a growing
uneasiness as to the possibility of maintaining the Free-trade system
for many months longer. We may perhaps be allowed to take some credit
to ourselves for having effected this change in the tone and
sentiments of gentlemen who, not long ago, were clamorous in their
praise of cheap food and diminished agricultural prices. In our
January Number, by the aid of the most intelligent, skilful, and
experienced agriculturists of Scotland, we proved, beyond the power of
refutation, that no British farmer could stand his ground against the
present influx of foreign corn, and that no possible reduction of
rent, short of its annihilation, would enable him to meet the
deficiency. We were met, as might naturally be expected, by the double
weapons of rancorous abuse and deliberate falsification.[6] But these
having utterly failed in their purpose, our antagonists have since
changed their ground altogether, and are now attempting to argue,
against the experience of each successive week, that the present fall
of prices is merely temporary, and that wheat must again rise to
something like its former level. How long they may continue in their
endeavours to propagate this fresh delusion we know not. They cannot
mislead the farmers, at whose door ruin is at present knocking with an
unmistakeable sound. The only men they can mislead are their unhappy
dupes, who have been taught to believe that the prosperity of Britain
depends solely upon one of the weakest, most unstable, and most
precarious of its manufactures.
In the same article from which we have just quoted, Mr Alison wrote as
follows:—
“Now, the misery arising from the reduction of the resources of the
farmer could not be confined to his own class in society; it would
immediately and seriously affect the manufacturing and commercial
interests. The great trade of every country, as Adam Smith long ago
remarked, is between the town and the country: by far the greatest
part of the produce of our looms is consumed by those who, directly or
indirectly, are fed by the British plough. Not the haughty aristocrat
only, who spends his life in luxurious indolence among his hereditary
trees, but the innumerable classes who are maintained by his rents and
fed by his expenditure—the numerous creditors who draw large parts of
his rents through their mortgages, and live in affluence in distant
towns upon the produce of his land—the farmers, who subsist in
comparative comfort on the industry which they exert on his
estates—the tradesmen and artisans, who are fed by his expenditure or
the wants of his tenantry—all would suffer alike by such a change of
prices as should seriously affect the industry of the cultivators.
Every shopkeeper knows how much he is dependent on the expenditure of
those who directly or indirectly are maintained by the land, and what
liberal purchasers landlords are, compared to those who subsist by
manufactures; and it is probable that the first and greatest sufferers
by the repeal of the Corn Laws would be many of those very persons
whose blind cry for Reform had rendered it unavoidable.