No More Learning

The installation took place on the twenty-first of March, 1849;
and after that ceremony had been performed, the following Speech was
delivered.

My first duty, Gentlemen, is to return you my thanks for the honour
which you have conferred on me. You well know that it was wholly
unsolicited; and I can assure you that it was wholly unexpected. I
may add that, if I had been invited to become a candidate for your
suffrages, I should respectfully have declined the invitation. My
predecessor, whom I am so happy as to be able to call my friend,
declared from this place last year in language which well became him,
that he would not have come forward to displace so eminent a statesman
as Lord John Russell. I can with equal truth affirm that I would
not have come forward to displace so estimable a gentleman and so
accomplished a scholar as Colonel Mure. But Colonel Mure felt last
year that it was not for him, and I now feel that it is not for me,
to question the propriety of your decision on a point of which, by the
constitution of your body, you are the judges. I therefore gratefully
accept the office to which I have been called, fully purposing to use
whatever powers belong to it with a single view to the welfare and
credit of your society.

I am not using a mere phrase of course, when I say that the feelings
with which I bear apart in the ceremony of this day are such as I find
it difficult to utter in words. I do not think it strange that, when
that great master of eloquence, Edmund Burke, stood where I now stand,
he faltered and remained mute. Doubtless the multitude of thoughts which
rushed into his mind was such as even he could not easily arrange or
express. In truth there are few spectacles more striking or affecting
than that which a great historical place of education presents on a
solemn public day. There is something strangely interesting in the
contrast between the venerable antiquity of the body and the fresh and
ardent youth of the great majority of the members. Recollections and
hopes crowd upon us together. The past and the future are at once
brought close to us. Our thoughts wander back to the time when the
foundations of this ancient building were laid, and forward to the
time when those whom it is our office to guide and to teach will be the
guides and teachers of our posterity. On the present occasion we may,
with peculiar propriety, give such thoughts their course. For it has
chanced that my magistracy has fallen on a great secular epoch. This
is the four hundredth year of the existence of your University. At such
jubilees, jubilees of which no individual sees more than one, it is
natural, and it is good, that a society like this, a society which
survives all the transitory parts of which it is composed, a society
which has a corporate existence and a perpetual succession, should
review its annals, should retrace the stages of its growth from infancy
to maturity, and should try to find, in the experience of generations
which have passed away, lessons which may be profitable to generations
yet unborn.

The retrospect is full of interest and instruction. Perhaps it may be
doubted whether, since the Christian era, there has been any point of
time more important to the highest interests of mankind than that at
which the existence of your University commenced. It was at the moment
of a great destruction and of a great creation. Your society was
instituted just before the empire of the East perished; that strange
empire which, dragging on a languid life through the great age of
darkness, connected together the two great ages of light; that empire
which, adding nothing to our stores of knowledge, and producing not one
man great in letters, in science, or in art, yet preserved, in the midst
of barbarism, those masterpieces of Attic genius, which the highest
minds still contemplate, and long will contemplate, with admiring
despair. And at that very time, while the fanatical Moslem were
plundering the churches and palaces of Constantinople, breaking in
pieces Grecian sculptures, and giving to the flames piles of Grecian
eloquence, a few humble German artisans, who little knew that they were
calling into existence a power far mightier than that of the victorious
Sultan, were busied in cutting and setting the first types. The
University came into existence just in time to witness the disappearance
of the last trace of the Roman empire, and to witness the publication of
the earliest printed book.

At this conjuncture, a conjuncture of unrivalled interest in the history
of letters, a man, never to be mentioned without reverence by every
lover of letters, held the highest place in Europe. Our just attachment
to that Protestant faith to which our country owes so much must not
prevent us from paying the tribute which, on this occasion, and in this
place, justice and gratitude demand, to the founder of the University
of Glasgow, the greatest of the restorers of learning, Pope Nicholas the
Fifth. He had sprung from the common people; but his abilities and his
erudition had early attracted the notice of the great. He had studied
much and travelled far. He had visited Britain, which, in wealth and
refinement, was to his native Tuscany what the back settlements of
America now are to Britain. He had lived with the merchant princes of
Florence, those men who first ennobled trade by making trade the ally
of philosophy, of eloquence, and of taste. It was he who, under the
protection of the munificent and discerning Cosmo, arranged the first
public library that Modern Europe possessed. From privacy your founder
rose to a throne; but on the throne he never forgot the studies which
had been his delight in privacy. He was the centre of an illustrious
group, composed partly of the last great scholars of Greece, and partly
of the first great scholars of Italy, Theodore Gaza and George
of Trebizond, Bessarion and Filelfo, Marsilio Ficino and Poggio
Bracciolini. By him was founded the Vatican library, then and long after
the most precious and the most extensive collection of books in the
world. By him were carefully preserved the most valuable intellectual
treasures which had been snatched from the wreck of the Byzantine
empire. His agents were to be found everywhere, in the bazaars of the
farthest East, in the monasteries of the farthest West, purchasing or
copying worm-eaten parchments, on which were traced words worthy of
immortality. Under his patronage were prepared accurate Latin versions
of many precious remains of Greek poets and philosophers. But no
department of literature owes so much to him as history. By him were
introduced to the knowledge of Western Europe two great and unrivalled
models of historical composition, the work of Herodotus and the work of
Thucydides. By him, too, our ancestors were first made acquainted with
the graceful and lucid simplicity of Xenophon and with the manly good
sense of Polybius.

It was while he was occupied with cares like these that his attention
was called to the intellectual wants of this region, a region now
swarming with population, rich with culture, and resounding with the
clang of machinery, a region which now sends forth fleets laden with its
admirable fabrics to the lands of which, in his days, no geographer had
ever heard, then a wild, a poor, a half barbarous tract, lying on the
utmost verge of the known world. He gave his sanction to the plan of
establishing a University at Glasgow, and bestowed on the new seat of
learning all the privileges which belonged to the University of Bologna.
I can conceive that a pitying smile passed over his face as he named
Bologna and Glasgow together. At Bologna he had long studied. No spot
in the world had been more favoured by nature or by art. The surrounding
country was a fruitful and sunny country, a country of cornfields and
vineyards. In the city, the house of Bentivoglo bore rule, a house which
vied with the house of Medici in taste and magnificence, which has
left to posterity noble palaces and temples, and which gave a splendid
patronage to arts and letters. Glasgow your founder just knew to be a
poor, a small, a rude town, a town, as he would have thought, not likely
ever to be great and opulent; for the soil, compared with the rich
country at the foot of the Apennines, was barren, and the climate was
such that an Italian shuddered at the thought of it. But it is not on
the fertility of the soil, it is not on the mildness of the atmosphere,
that the prosperity of nations chiefly depends. Slavery and superstition
can make Campania a land of beggars, and can change the plain of Enna
into a desert. Nor is it beyond the power of human intelligence and
energy, developed by civil and spiritual freedom, to turn sterile rocks
and pestilential marshes into cities and gardens. Enlightened as your
founder was, he little knew that he was himself a chief agent in a great
revolution, physical and moral, political and religious, in a revolution
destined to make the last first and the first last, in a revolution
destined to invert the relative positions of Glasgow and Bologna. We
cannot, I think, better employ a few minutes than in reviewing the
stages of this great change in human affairs.

The review shall be short. Indeed I cannot do better than pass rapidly
from century to century. Look at the world, then, a hundred years after
the seal of Nicholas had been affixed to the instrument which
called your College into existence. We find Europe, we find Scotland
especially, in the agonies of that great revolution which we
emphatically call the Reformation. The liberal patronage which
Nicholas, and men like Nicholas, had given to learning, and of which
the establishment of this seat of learning is not the least remarkable
instance, had produced an effect which they had never contemplated.
Ignorance was the talisman on which their power depended; and that
talisman they had themselves broken. They had called in Knowledge as a
handmaid to decorate Superstition, and their error produced its natural
effect. I need not tell you what a part the votaries of classical
learning, and especially the votaries of Greek learning, the Humanists,
as they were then called, bore in the great movement against spiritual
tyranny. They formed, in fact, the vanguard of that movement. Every
one of the chief Reformers--I do not at this moment remember a single
exception--was a Humanist. Almost every eminent Humanist in the north of
Europe was, according to the measure of his uprightness and courage, a
Reformer. In a Scottish University I need hardly mention the names of
Knox, of Buchanan, of Melville, of Secretary Maitland. In truth, minds
daily nourished with the best literature of Greece and Rome necessarily
grew too strong to be trammelled by the cobwebs of the scholastic
divinity; and the influence of such minds was now rapidly felt by the
whole community; for the invention of printing had brought books within
the reach even of yeomen and of artisans. From the Mediterranean to the
Frozen Sea, therefore, the public mind was everywhere in a ferment; and
nowhere was the ferment greater than in Scotland. It was in the midst
of martyrdoms and proscriptions, in the midst of a war between power
and truth, that the first century of the existence of your University
closed.

Pass another hundred years; and we are in the midst of another
revolution. The war between Popery and Protestantism had, in this
island, been terminated by the victory of Protestantism. But from that
war another war had sprung, the war between Prelacy and Puritanism.
The hostile religious sects were allied, intermingled, confounded with
hostile political parties. The monarchical element of the constitution
was an object of almost exclusive devotion to the Prelatist. The popular
element of the constitution was especially dear to the Puritan. At
length an appeal was made to the sword. Puritanism triumphed; but
Puritanism was already divided against itself. Independency and
Republicanism were on one side, Presbyterianism and limited Monarchy on
the other. It was in the very darkest part of that dark time, it was
in the midst of battles, sieges, and executions, it was when the whole
world was still aghast at the awful spectacle of a British King standing
before a judgment seat, and laying his neck on a block, it was when the
mangled remains of the Duke of Hamilton had just been laid in the tomb
of his house, it was when the head of the Marquess of Montrose had just
been fixed on the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, that your University completed
her second century.

A hundred years more; and we have at length reached the beginning of a
happier period. Our civil and religious liberties had indeed been bought
with a fearful price. But they had been bought. The price had been
paid. The last battle had been fought on British ground. The last black
scaffold had been set up on Tower Hill. The evil days were over. A
bright and tranquil century, a century of religious toleration, of
domestic peace, of temperate freedom, of equal justice, was beginning.
That century is now closing. When we compare it with any equally long
period in the history of any other great society, we shall find abundant
cause for thankfulness to the Giver of all good. Nor is there any place
in the whole kingdom better fitted to excite this feeling than the place
where we are now assembled. For in the whole kingdom we shall find no
district in which the progress of trade, of manufactures, of wealth,
and of the arts of life, has been more rapid than in Clydesdale. Your
University has partaken largely of the prosperity of this city and of
the surrounding region. The security, the tranquillity, the liberty,
which have been propitious to the industry of the merchant and of the
manufacturer, have been also propitious to the industry of the scholar.
To the last century belong most of the names of which you justly boast.
The time would fail me if I attempted to do justice to the memory of all
the illustrious men who, during that period, taught or learned wisdom
within these ancient walls; geometricians, anatomists, jurists,
philologists, metaphysicians, poets: Simpson and Hunter, Millar and
Young, Reid and Stewart; Campbell, whose coffin was lately borne to a
grave in that renowned transept which contains the dust of Chaucer,
of Spenser, and of Dryden; Black, whose discoveries form an era in the
history of chemical science; Adam Smith, the greatest of all the masters
of political science; James Watt, who perhaps did more than any single
man has done, since the New Atlantis of Bacon was written, to accomplish
that glorious prophecy. We now speak the language of humility when we
say that the University of Glasgow need not fear a comparison with the
University of Bologna.

A fifth secular period is about to commence. There is no lack of
alarmists who will tell you that it is about to commence under evil
auspices. But from me you must expect no such gloomy prognostications.
I have heard them too long and too constantly to be scared by them. Ever
since I began to make observations on the state of my country, I have
been seeing nothing but growth, and hearing of nothing but decay. The
more I contemplate our noble institutions, the more convinced I am that
they are sound at heart, that they have nothing of age but its dignity,
and that their strength is still the strength of youth. The hurricane,
which has recently overthrown so much that was great and that seemed
durable, has only proved their solidity. They still stand, august and
immovable, while dynasties and churches are lying in heaps of ruin all
around us. I see no reason to doubt that, by the blessing of God on
a wise and temperate policy, on a policy of which the principle is
to preserve what is good by reforming in time what is evil, our civil
institutions may be preserved unimpaired to a late posterity, and that,
under the shade of our civil institutions, our academical institutions
may long continue to flourish.

I trust, therefore, that, when a hundred years more have run out, this
ancient College will still continue to deserve well of our country and
of mankind. I trust that the installation of 1949 will be attended by a
still greater assembly of students than I have the happiness now to see
before me. That assemblage, indeed, may not meet in the place where we
have met. These venerable halls may have disappeared. My successor may
speak to your successors in a more stately edifice, in a edifice which,
even among the magnificent buildings of the future Glasgow, will still
be admired as a fine specimen of the architecture which flourished in
the days of the good Queen Victoria. But, though the site and the walls
may be new, the spirit of the institution will, I hope, be still the
same. My successor will, I hope, be able to boast that the fifth century
of the University has even been more glorious than the fourth. He will
be able to vindicate that boast by citing a long list of eminent men,
great masters of experimental science, of ancient learning, of our
native eloquence, ornaments of the senate, the pulpit and the bar. He
will, I hope, mention with high honour some of my young friends who now
hear me; and he will, I also hope, be able to add that their talents
and learning were not wasted on selfish or ignoble objects, but were
employed to promote the physical and moral good of their species, to
extend the empire of man over the material world, to defend the cause
of civil and religious liberty against tyrants and bigots, and to defend
the cause of virtue and order against the enemies of all divine and
human laws.

I have now given utterance to a part, and to a part only, of the
recollections and anticipations of which, on this solemn occasion, my
mind is full. I again thank you for the honour which you have bestowed
on me; and I assure you that, while I live, I shall never cease to take
a deep interest in the welfare and fame of the body with which, by your
kindness, I have this day become connected.

*****




RE-ELECTION TO PARLIAMENT. (NOVEMBER 2, 1852) A SPEECH DELIVERED AT
EDINBURGH ON THE 2D OF NOVEMBER, 1852.

At the General Election of 1852 the votes for the City of Edinburgh
stood thus:

Mr Macaulay . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1872
Mr Cowan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1754
The Lord Provost . . . . . . . . . . 1559
Mr Bruce . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1066
Mr Campbell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 686

On the second of November the Electors assembled in the Music Hall to
meet the representative whom they had, without any solicitation on his
part, placed at the head of the poll. On this occasion the following
Speech was delivered.

Gentlemen,--I thank you from my heart for this kind reception. In truth,
it has almost overcome me. Your good opinion and your good will were
always very valuable to me, far more valuable than any vulgar object
of ambition, far more valuable than any office, however lucrative or
dignified.
In truth, no office, however lucrative or dignified, would
have tempted me to do what I have done at your summons, to leave
again the happiest and most tranquil of all retreats for the bustle
of political life. But the honour which you have conferred upon me, an
honour of which the greatest men might well be proud, an honour which it
is in the power only of a free people to bestow, has laid on me such
an obligation that I should have thought it ingratitude, I should have
thought it pusillanimity, not to make at least an effort to serve you.

And here, Gentlemen, we meet again in kindness after a long separation.
It is more than five years since I last stood in this very place; a
large part of human life. There are few of us on whom those five years
have not set their mark, few circles from which those five years have
not taken away what can never be replaced. Even in this multitude of
friendly faces I look in vain for some which would on this day have been
lighted up with joy and kindness. I miss one venerable man, who, before
I was born, in evil times, in times of oppression and of corruption,
had adhered, with almost solitary fidelity, to the cause of freedom, and
whom I knew in advanced age, but still in the full vigour of mind and
body, enjoying the respect and gratitude of his fellow citizens. I
should, indeed, be most ungrateful if I could, on this day, forget Sir
James Craig, his public spirit, his judicious counsel, his fatherly
kindness to myself. And Jeffrey--with what an effusion of generous
affection he would on this day, have welcomed me back to Edinburgh! He
too is gone; but the remembrance of him is one of the many ties which
bind me to the city once dear to his heart, and still inseparably
associated with his fame.

But, Gentlemen, it is not only here that, on entering again, at your
call, a path of life which I believed that I had quitted forever, I
shall be painfully reminded of the changes which the last five years
have produced. In Parliament I shall look in vain for virtues which I
loved, and for abilities which I admired. Often in debate, and never
more than when we discuss those questions of colonial policy which are
every day acquiring a new interest, I shall remember with regret how
much eloquence and wit, how much acuteness and knowledge, how many
engaging qualities, how many fair hopes, are buried in the grave of poor
Charles Buller. There were other men, men with whom I had no political
connection and little personal connection, men to whom I was, during a
great part of my public life, honestly opposed, but of whom I cannot
now think without grieving that their wisdom, their experience, and the
weight of their great names can never more, in the hour of need, bring
help to the nation or to the throne. Such were those two eminent men
whom I left at the height, one of civil, the other of military fame; one
the oracle of the House of Commons, the other the oracle of the House
of Lords. There were parts of their long public life which they would
themselves, I am persuaded, on a calm retrospect, have allowed to be
justly censurable. But it is impossible to deny that each in his own
department saved the State; that one brought to a triumphant close the
most formidable conflict in which this country was ever engaged with a
foreign enemy; and that the other, at an immense sacrifice of personal
feeling and personal ambition, freed us from an odious monopoly, which
could not have existed many years longer without producing fearful
intestine discords. I regret them both: but I peculiarly regret him who
is associated in my mind with the place to which you have sent me. I
shall hardly know the House of Commons without Sir Robert Peel. On the
first evening on which I took my seat in that House, more than two and
twenty years ago, he held the highest position among the Ministers
of the Crown who sate there. During all the subsequent years of my
parliamentary service I scarcely remember one important discussion in
which he did not bear a part with conspicuous ability. His figure is now
before me: all the tones of his voice are in my ears; and the pain with
which I think that I shall never hear them again would be embittered by
the recollection of some sharp encounters which took place between us,
were it not that at last there was an entire and cordial reconciliation,
and that, only a very few days before his death, I had the pleasure of
receiving from him marks of kindness and esteem of which I shall always
cherish the recollection.

But, Gentlemen, it is not only by those changes which the natural law of
mortality produces, it is not only by the successive disappearances of
eminent men that the face of the world has been changed during the five
years which have elapsed since we met here last. Never since the origin
of our race have there been five years more fertile of great events,
five years which have left behind them a more awful lesson. We have
lived many lives in that time. The revolutions of ages have been
compressed into a few months. France, Germany, Hungary, Italy,--what
a history has theirs been! When we met here last, there was in all of
those countries an outward show of tranquillity; and there were few,
even of the wisest among us, who imagined what wild passions, what wild
theories, were fermenting under that peaceful exterior. An obstinate
resistance to a reasonable reform, a resistance prolonged but for
one day beyond the time, gave the signal for the explosion; and in an
instant, from the borders of Russia to the Atlantic Ocean, everything
was confusion and terror. The streets of the greatest capitals of Europe
were piled up with barricades, and were streaming with civil blood. The
house of Orleans fled from France: the Pope fled from Rome: the Emperor
of Austria was not safe at Vienna. There were popular institutions in
Florence; popular institutions at Naples. One democratic convention sat
at Berlin; another democratic convention at Frankfort. You remember, I
am sure, but too well, how some of the wisest and most honest friends of
liberty, though inclined to look with great indulgence on the excesses
inseparable from revolutions, began first to doubt and then to despair
of the prospects of mankind. You remember how all sorts of animosity,
national, religious, and social, broke forth together. You remember
how with the hatred of discontented subjects to their governments was
mingled the hatred of race to race and of class to class. For myself, I
stood aghast; and though naturally of a sanguine disposition, I did for
one moment doubt whether the progress of society was not about to be
arrested, nay, to be suddenly and violently turned back; whether we
were not doomed to pass in one generation from the civilisation of the
nineteenth century to the barbarism of the fifth. I remembered that Adam
Smith and Gibbon had told us that the dark ages were gone, never more
to return, that modern Europe was in no danger of the fate which had
befallen the Roman empire. That flood, they said, would no more return
to cover the earth: and they seemed to reason justly: for they compared
the immense strength of the enlightened part of the world with the
weakness of the part which remained savage; and they asked whence were
to come the Huns and the Vandals, who should again destroy civilisation?
It had not occurred to them that civilisation itself might engender the
barbarians who should destroy it. It had not occurred to them that
in the very heart of great capitals, in the neighbourhood of splendid
palaces, and churches, and theatres, and libraries, and museums, vice
and ignorance might produce a race of Huns fiercer than those who
marched under Attila, and of Vandals more bent on destruction than those
who followed Genseric. Such was the danger. It passed by. Civilisation
was saved, but at what a price! The tide of popular feeling turned and
ebbed almost as fast as it had risen. Imprudent and obstinate opposition
to reasonable demands had brought on anarchy; and as soon as men had
a near view of anarchy they fled in terror to crouch at the feet of
despotism. To the dominion of mobs armed with pikes succeeded the
sterner and more lasting dominion of disciplined armies. The Papacy
rose from its debasement; rose more intolerant and insolent than before;
intolerant and insolent as in the days of Hildebrand; intolerant and
insolent to a degree which dismayed and disappointed those who had
fondly cherished the hope that the spirit which had animated the
Crusaders and the Inquisitors had been mitigated by the lapse of years
and by the progress of knowledge. Through all that vast region, where
little more than four years ago we looked in vain for any stable
authority, we now look in vain for any trace of constitutional freedom.
And we, Gentlemen, in the meantime, have been exempt from both those
calamities which have wrought ruin all around us. The madness of 1848
did not subvert the British throne. The reaction which followed has not
destroyed British liberty.

And why is this? Why has our country, with all the ten plagues raging
around her, been a land of Goshen? Everywhere else was the thunder and
the fire running along the ground,--a very grievous storm,--a storm such
as there was none like it since man was on the earth; yet everything
tranquil here; and then again thick night, darkness that might be felt;
and yet light in all our dwellings. We owe this singular happiness,
under the blessing of God, to a wise and noble constitution, the work of
many generations of great men. Let us profit by experience; and let us
be thankful that we profit by the experience of others, and not by our
own. Let us prize our constitution: let us purify it: let us amend it;
but let us not destroy it. Let us shun extremes, not only because each
extreme is in itself a positive evil, but also because each extreme
necessarily engenders its opposite. If we love civil and religious
freedom, let us in the day of danger uphold law and order. If we are
zealous for law and order, let us prize, as the best safeguard of law
and order, civil and religious freedom.

Yes, Gentlemen; if I am asked why we are free with servitude all around
us, why our Habeas Corpus Act has not been suspended, why our press
is still subject to no censor, why we still have the liberty of
association, why our representative institutions still abide in all
their strength, I answer, It is because in the year of revolutions we
stood firmly by our Government in its peril; and, if I am asked why
we stood by our Government in its peril, when men all around us were
engaged in pulling Governments down, I answer, It was because we knew
that though our Government was not a perfect Government, it was a good
Government, that its faults admitted of peaceable and legal remedies,
that it had never inflexibly opposed just demands, that we had obtained
concessions of inestimable value, not by beating the drum, not by
ringing the tocsin, not by tearing up the pavement, not by running to
the gunsmiths' shops to search for arms, but by the mere force of reason
and public opinion. And, Gentlemen, preeminent among those pacific
victories of reason and public opinion, the recollection of which
chiefly, I believe, carried us safely through the year of revolutions
and through the year of counter-revolutions, I would place two great
reforms, inseparably associated, one with the memory of an illustrious
man, who is now beyond the reach of envy, the other with the name of
another illustrious man, who is still, and, I hope, long will be, a
living mark for distinction. I speak of the great commercial reform of
1846, the work of Sir Robert Peel, and of the great parliamentary reform
of 1832, the work of many eminent statesmen, among whom none was more
conspicuous than Lord John Russell. I particularly call your attention
to those two great reforms, because it will, in my opinion, be the
especial duty of that House of Commons in which, by your distinguished
favour, I have a seat, to defend the commercial reform of Sir Robert
Peel, and to perfect and extend the parliamentary reform of Lord John
Russell.

With respect to the commercial reform, though I say it will be a sacred
duty to defend it, I do not apprehend that we shall find the task very
difficult. Indeed, I doubt whether we have any reason to apprehend a
direct attack upon the system now established. From the expressions used
during the last session, and during the late elections, by the Ministers
and their adherents, I should, I confess, find it utterly impossible to
draw any inference whatever. They have contradicted each other; and they
have contradicted themselves. Nothing would be easier than to select
from their speeches passages which would prove them to be Freetraders,
and passages which would prove them to be protectionists. But, in truth,
the only inference which can properly be drawn from a speech of one of
these gentlemen in favour of Free Trade is, that, when he spoke, he was
standing for a town; and the only inference which can be drawn from the
speech of another in favour of Protection is, that, when he spoke,
he was standing for a county. I quitted London in the heat of the
elections. I left behind me a Tory candidate for Westminster and a Tory
candidate for Middlesex, loudly proclaiming themselves Derbyites and
Freetraders. All along my journey through Berkshire and Wiltshire I
heard nothing but the cry of Derby and Protection; but when I got to
Bristol, the cry was Derby and Free Trade again. On one side of the
Wash, Lord Stanley, the Under-Secretary of State for the Foreign
Department, a young nobleman of great promise, a young nobleman who
appears to me to inherit a large portion of his father's ability and
energy, held language which was universally understood to indicate that
the Government had altogether abandoned all thought of Protection. Lord
Stanley was addressing the inhabitants of a town. Meanwhile, on the
other side of the Wash, the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster was
haranguing the farmers of Lincolnshire; and, when somebody took it upon
him to ask, "What will you do, Mr Christopher, if Lord Derby abandons
Protection? " the Chancellor of the Duchy refused to answer a question so
monstrous, so insulting to Lord Derby. "I will stand by Lord Derby," he
said, "because I know that Lord Derby will stand by Protection. " Well,
these opposite declarations of two eminent persons, both likely to know
the mind of Lord Derby on the subject, go forth, and are taken up
by less distinguished adherents of the party. The Tory candidate for
Leicestershire says, "I put faith in Mr Christopher: while you see Mr
Christopher in the Government, you may be assured that agriculture will
be protected. " But, in East Surrey, which is really a suburb of London,
I find the Tory candidate saying, "Never mind Mr Christopher. I trust to
Lord Stanley. What should Mr Christopher know on the subject? He is not
in the Cabinet: he can tell you nothing about it. " Nay, these tactics
were carried so far that Tories who had formerly been for Free Trade,
turned Protectionists if they stood for counties; and Tories, who had
always been furious Protectionists, declared for Free Trade, without
scruple or shame, if they stood for large towns. Take for example
Lord Maidstone. He was once one of the most vehement Protectionists
in England, and put forth a small volume, which, as I am an elector of
Westminster, and as he was a candidate for Westminster, I thought it my
duty to buy, in order to understand his opinions. It is entitled Free
Trade Hexameters. Of the poetical merits of Lord Maidstone's hexameters
I shall not presume to give an opinion. You may all form an opinion for
yourselves by ordering copies. They may easily be procured: for I was
assured, when I bought mine in Bond Street, that the supply on hand
was still considerable. But of the political merits of Lord Maidstone's
hexameters I can speak with confidence; and it is impossible to
conceive a fiercer attack, according to the measure of the power of
the assailant, than that which his lordship made on Sir Robert Peel's
policy. On the other hand, Sir Fitzroy Kelly, who is now Solicitor
General, and who was Solicitor General under Sir Robert Peel, voted
steadily with Sir Robert Peel, doubtless from a regard to the public
interest, which would have suffered greatly by the retirement of so able
a lawyer from the service of the Crown. Sir Fitzroy did not think it
necessary to lay down his office even when Sir Robert Peel brought in
the bill which established a free trade in corn. But unfortunately,
Lord Maidstone becomes a candidate for the City of Westminster, and Sir
Fitzroy Kelly stands for an agricultural county. Instantly, therefore,
Lord Maidstone forgets his verses, and Sir Fitzroy Kelly forgets his
votes. Lord Maidstone declares himself a convert to the opinions of Sir
Robert Peel; and Sir Robert Peel's own Solicitor General lifts up his
head intrepidly, and makes a speech, apparently composed out of Lord
Maidstone's hexameters.

It is therefore, Gentlemen, utterly impossible for me to pretend to
infer, from the language held by the members of the Government,
and their adherents, what course they will take on the subject of
Protection. Nevertheless, I confidently say that the system established
by Sir Robert Peel is perfectly safe. The law which repealed the Corn
Laws stands now on a much firmer foundation than when it was first
passed. We are stronger than ever in reason; and we are stronger than
ever in numbers. We are stronger than ever in reason, because what was
only prophecy is now history. No person can now question the salutary
effect which the repeal of the Corn Laws has had on our trade and
industry. We are stronger than ever in numbers. You, I am sure,
recollect the time when a formidable opposition to the repeal of the
Corn Laws was made by a class which was most deeply interested in that
repeal; I mean the labouring classes. You recollect that, in many large
towns, ten years ago, the friends of Free Trade could not venture to
call meetings for the purpose of petitioning against the Corn Laws, for
fear of being interrupted by a crowd of working people, who had been
taught by a certain class of demagogues to say that the question was
one in which working people had no interest, that it was purely a
capitalist's question, that, if the poor man got a large loaf instead of
a small one, he would get from the capitalist only a sixpence instead
of a shilling. I never had the slightest faith in those doctrines.
Experience even then seemed to me completely to confute them. I compared
place with place; and I found that, though bread was dearer in England
than in Ohio, wages were higher in Ohio than in England. I compared
time with time; and I saw that those times when bread was cheapest
in England, within my own memory, were also the times in which the
condition of the labouring classes was the happiest. But now the
experiment has been tried in a manner which admits of no dispute. I
should be glad to know, if there were now an attempt made to impose a
tax on corn, what demagogue would be able to bring a crowd of working
men to hold up their hands in favour of such a tax. Thus strong,
Gentlemen, in reason, and thus strong in numbers, we need, I believe,
apprehend no direct attack on the principles of Free Trade. It will,
however, be one of the first duties of your representatives to be
vigilant that no indirect attack shall be made on these principles; and
to take care that in our financial arrangements no undue favour shall be
shown to any class.

With regard to the other question which I have mentioned, the question
of Parliamentary Reform, I think that the time is at hand when that
question will require the gravest consideration, when it will be
necessary to reconsider the Reform Act of 1832, and to amend it
temperately and cautiously, but in a large and liberal spirit. I confess
that, in my opinion, this revision cannot be made with advantage, except
by the Ministers of the Crown. I greatly doubt whether it will be found
possible to carry through any plan of improvement if we have not the
Government heartily with us; and I must say that from the present
Administration I can, as to that matter, expect nothing good. What
precisely I am to expect from them I do not know, whether the most
obstinate opposition to every change, or the most insanely violent
change. If I look to their conduct, I find the gravest reasons for
apprehending that they may at one time resist the most just demands,
and at another time, from the merest caprice, propose the wildest
innovations. And I will tell you why I entertain this opinion. I am
sorry that, in doing so, I must mention the name of a gentleman for
whom, personally, I have the highest respect; I mean Mr Walpole, the
Secretary of State for the Home Department. My own acquaintance with him
is slight; but I know him well by character; and I believe him to be
an honourable, an excellent, an able man. No man is more esteemed in
private life: but of his public conduct I must claim the right to speak
with freedom; and I do so with the less scruple because he has himself
set me an example of that freedom, and because I am really now standing
on the defensive. Mr Walpole lately made a speech to the electors of
Midhurst; and in that speech he spoke personally of Lord John Russell
as one honourable man should speak of another, and as, I am sure, I
wish always to speak of Mr Walpole. But in Lord John's public conduct Mr
Walpole found many faults. Chief among those faults was this, that
his lordship had re-opened the question of reform. Mr Walpole declared
himself to be opposed on principle to organic change. He justly said
that if, unfortunately, organic change should be necessary, whatever
was done ought to be done with much deliberation and with caution almost
timorous; and he charged Lord John with having neglected these plain
rules of prudence. I was perfectly thunderstruck when I read the speech:
for I could not but recollect that the most violent and democratic
change that ever was proposed within the memory of the oldest man had
been proposed but a few weeks before by this same Mr Walpole, as the
organ of the present Government. Do you remember the history of the
Militia Bill? In general, when a great change in our institutions is
to be proposed from the Treasury Bench, the Minister announces his
intention some weeks before. There is a great attendance: there is
the most painful anxiety to know what he is going to recommend. I well
remember,--for I was present,--with what breathless suspense six hundred
persons waited, on the first of March, 1831, to hear Lord John Russell
explain the principles of his Reform Bill. But what was his Reform Bill
to the Reform Bill of the Derby Administration? At the end of a night,
in the coolest way possible, without the smallest notice, Mr Walpole
proposed to add to the tail of the Militia Bill a clause to the effect,
that every man who had served in the militia for two years should have
a vote for the county. What is the number of those voters who were to be
entitled to vote in this way for counties? The militia of England is to
consist of eighty thousand men; and the term of service is to be five
years. In ten years the number will be one hundred and sixty thousand;
in twenty years, three hundred and twenty thousand; and in twenty-five
years, four hundred thousand. Some of these new electors will, of
course, die off in twenty-five years, though the lives are picked lives,
remarkably good lives. What the mortality is likely to be I do not
accurately know; but any actuary will easily calculate it for you. I
should say, in round numbers, that you will have, when the system has
been in operation for a generation, an addition of about three hundred
thousand to the county constituent bodies; that is to say, six thousand
voters on the average will be added to every county in England
and Wales. That is surely an immense addition. And what is the
qualification? Why, the first qualification is youth. These electors
are not to be above a certain age; but the nearer you can get them to
eighteen the better. The second qualification is poverty. The elector
is to be a person to whom a shilling a-day is an object. The third
qualification is ignorance; for I venture to say that, if you take the
trouble to observe the appearance of those young fellows who follow the
recruiting sergeant in the streets, you will at once say that, among our
labouring classes, they are not the most educated, they are not the
most intelligent. That they are brave, stout lads, I fully believe. Lord
Hardinge tells me that he never saw a finer set of young men; and I have
not the slightest doubt that, if necessary, after a few weeks' training,
they will be found standing up for our firesides against the best
disciplined soldiers that the Continent can produce. But these are not
the qualifications which fit men to choose legislators. A young man who
goes from the ploughtail into the army is generally rather thoughtless
and disposed to idleness. Oh! but there is another qualification which I
had forgotten: the voter must be five feet two. There is a qualification
for you! Only think of measuring a man for the franchise! And this is
the work of a Conservative Government, this plan which would swamp all
the counties in England with electors who possess the Derby-Walpole
qualifications; that is to say, youth, poverty, ignorance, a roving
disposition, and five feet two. Why, what right have people who have
proposed such a change as this to talk about--I do not say Lord John
Russell's imprudence--but the imprudence of Ernest Jones or of any other
Chartist? The Chartists, to do them justice, would give the franchise to
wealth as well as to poverty, to knowledge as well as to ignorance, to
mature age as well as to youth. But to make a qualification compounded
of disqualifications is a feat of which the whole glory belongs to our
Conservative rulers. This astounding proposition was made, I believe, in
a very thin House: but the next day the House was full enough, everybody
having come down to know what was going to happen. One asked, why not
this? and another, why not that? Are all the regular troops to have
the franchise? all the policemen? all the sailors? for, if you give the
franchise to ploughboys of twenty-one, what class of honest Englishmen
and Scotchmen can you with decency exclude? But up gets the Home
Secretary, and informs the House that the plan had not been sufficiently
considered, that some of his colleagues were not satisfied, and that
he would not press his proposition. Now, if it had happened to me to
propose such a reform at one sitting of the House, and at the next
sitting to withdraw it, because it had not been well considered, I do
think that, to the end of my life, I never should have talked about the
exceeding imprudence of reopening the question of reform; I should never
have ventured to read any other man a lecture about the caution with
which all plans of organic change ought to be framed. I repeat that,
if I am to judge from the language of the present Ministers, taken in
connection with this solitary instance of their legislative skill in the
way of reform, I am utterly at a loss what to expect. On the whole, what
I do expect is that they will offer a pertinacious, vehement, provoking
opposition to safe and reasonable change, and that then, in some moment
of fear or caprice, they will bring in, and fling on the table, in a
fit of desperation or levity, some plan which will loosen the very
foundations of society.

For my own part, I think that the question of Parliamentary Reform is
one which must soon be taken up; but it ought to be taken up by the
Government; and I hope, before long, to see in office a Ministry which
will take it up in earnest. I dare say that you will not suspect me of
saying so from any interested feeling. In no case whatever shall I again
be a member of any Ministry. During what may remain of my public life,
I shall be the servant of none but you. I have nothing to ask of any
government, except that protection which every government owes to a
faithful and loyal subject of the Queen. But I do hope to see in office
before long a Ministry which will treat this great question as it
should be treated. It will be the duty of that Ministry to revise the
distribution of power. It will be the duty of that Ministry to consider
whether small constituent bodies, notoriously corrupt, and proved to
be corrupt, such, for example, as Harwich, ought to retain the power of
sending members to Parliament. It will be the duty of such a Ministry
to consider whether small constituent bodies, even less notoriously
corrupt, ought to have, in the counsels of the empire, a share as great
as that of the West Riding of York, and twice as great as that of the
county of Perth. It will be the duty of such a Ministry to consider
whether it may not be possible, without the smallest danger to peace,
law, and order, to extend the elective franchise to classes of the
community which do not now possess it. As to universal suffrage, on that
subject you already know my opinions; and I now come before you with
those opinions strengthened by everything which, since I last professed
them, has passed in Europe. We now know, by the clearest of all proofs,
that universal suffrage, even united with secret voting, is no security
against the establishment of arbitrary power. But, Gentlemen, I do look
forward, and at no very remote period, to an extension of the franchise,
such as I once thought unsafe. I believe that such an extension will,
by the course of events, be brought about in the very best and happiest
way. Perhaps I may be sanguine: but I think that good times are coming
for the labouring classes of this country. I do not entertain that hope
because I expect that Fourierism, or Saint Simonianism, or Socialism, or
any of those other "isms" for which the plain English word is "robbery,"
will prevail. I know that such schemes only aggravate the misery which
they pretend to relieve. I know that it is possible, by legislation, to
make the rich poor, but that it is utterly impossible to make the poor
rich. But I believe that the progress of experimental science, the
free intercourse of nation with nation, the unrestricted influx of
commodities from countries where they are cheap, and the unrestricted
efflux of labour towards countries where it is dear, will soon produce,
nay, I believe that they are beginning to produce, a great and most
blessed social revolution. I need not tell you, Gentlemen, that in those
colonies which have been planted by our race,--and, when I speak of our
colonies I speak as well of those which have separated from us as of
those which still remain united to us,--I need not tell you that in
our colonies the condition of the labouring man has long been far more
prosperous than in any part of the Old World. And why is this? Some
people tell you that the inhabitants of Pennsylvania and New England
are better off than the inhabitants of the Old World, because the
United States have a republican form of government. But we know that the
inhabitants of Pennsylvania and New England were more prosperous than
the inhabitants of the Old World when Pennsylvania and New England were
as loyal as any part of the dominions of George the First, George the
Second, and George the Third; and we know that in Van Diemen's Land, in
New Zealand, in Australasia, in New Brunswick, in Canada, the subjects
of Her Majesty are as prosperous as they could be under the government
of a President. The real cause is that, in these new countries, where
there is a boundless extent of fertile land, nothing is easier than for
the labourer to pass from the place which is overstocked with labour to
the place which is understocked; and that thus both he who moves and he
who stays always have enough. This it is which keeps up the prosperity
of the Atlantic States of the Union. They pour their population back to
the Ohio, across the Ohio to the Mississippi, and beyond the Mississippi
to the Rocky Mountains. Everywhere the desert is receding before the
advancing flood of human life and civilisation; and, in the meantime,
those who are left behind enjoy abundance, and never endure such
privations as in old countries too often befall the labouring classes.
And why has not the condition of our labourers been equally fortunate?
Simply, as I believe, on account of the great distance which separates
our country from the new and unoccupied part of the world, and on
account of the expense of traversing that distance.