The English Constitution | Page 7

opposed by Mr. Bright; and therefore the mass of the Conservatives
and of common moderate people, without distinction of party, had no
conception of the effect. They said it was "London nonsense" if you
tried to explain it to them. The nation indeed generally looks to the
discussions in Parliament to enlighten it as to the effect of Bills. But in
this case neither party, as a party, could speak out. Many, perhaps most
of the intelligent Conservatives, were fearful of the consequences of the
proposal; but as it was made by the heads of their own party, they did
not like to oppose it, and the discipline of party carried them with it. On
the other side, many, probably most of the intelligent Liberals, were in
consternation at the Bill; they had been in the habit for years of
proposing Reform Bills; they knew the points of difference between
each Bill, and perceived that this was by far the most sweeping which
had ever been proposed by any Ministry. But they were almost all
unwilling to say so. They would have offended a large section in their
constituencies if they had resisted a Tory Bill because it was too
democratic; the extreme partisans of democracy would have said, "The
enemies of the people have confidence enough in the people to entrust
them with this power, but you, a 'Liberal,' and a professed friend of the
people, have not that confidence; if that is so, we will never vote for
you again". Many Radical members who had been asking for years for
household suffrage were much more surprised than pleased at the near
chance of obtaining it; they had asked for it as bargainers ask for the
highest possible price, but they never expected to get it. Altogether the
Liberals, or at least the extreme Liberals, were much like a man who
has been pushing hard against an opposing door, till, on a sudden, the
door opens, the resistance ceases, and he is thrown violently forward.
Persons in such an unpleasant predicament can scarcely criticise
effectually, and certainly the Liberals did not so criticise. We have had

no such previous discussions as should guide our expectations from the
Reform Bill, nor such as under ordinary circumstances we should have
had.
Nor does the experience of the last election much help us. The
circumstances were too exceptional. In the first place, Mr. Gladstone's
personal popularity was such as has not been seen since the time of Mr.
Pitt, and such as may never be seen again. Certainly it will very rarely
be seen. A bad speaker is said to have been asked how he got on as a
candidate. "Oh," he answered, "when I do not know what to say, I say
'Gladstone,' and then they are sure to cheer, and I have time to think."
In fact, that popularity acted as a guide both to constituencies and to
members. The candidates only said they would vote with Mr.
Gladstone, and the constituencies only chose those who said so. Even
the minority could only be described as anti-Gladstone, just as the
majority could only be described as pro-Gladstone. The remains, too,
of the old electoral organisation were exceedingly powerful; the old
voters voted as they had been told, and the new voters mostly voted
with them. In extremely few cases was there any new and contrary
organisation. At the last election, the trial of the new system hardly
began, and, as far as it did begin, it was favoured by a peculiar
guidance.
In the meantime our statesmen have the greatest opportunities they
have had for many years, and likewise the greatest duty. They have to
guide the new voters in the exercise of the franchise; to guide them
quietly, and without saying what they are doing, but still to guide them.
The leading statesmen in a free country have great momentary power.
They settle the conversation of mankind. It is they who, by a great
speech or two, determine what shall be said and what shall be written
for long after. They, in conjunction with their counsellors, settle the
programme of their party--the "platform," as the Americans call it, on
which they and those associated with them are to take their stand for
the political campaign. It is by that programme, by a comparison of the
programmes of different statesmen, that the world forms its judgment.
The common ordinary mind is quite unfit to fix for itself what political
question it shall attend to; it is as much as it can do to judge decently of
the questions which drift down to it, and are brought before it; it almost
never settles its topics; it can only decide upon the issues of those

topics. And in settling what these questions shall be,