Misc Writings and Speeches, vol 4 | Page 9

if they had foreseen, that a city of more than a hundred thousand
inhabitants would be left without Representatives in the nineteenth
century, merely because it stood on ground which in the thirteenth
century had been occupied by a few huts. They framed a representative
system, which, though not without defects and irregularities, was well
adapted to the state of England in their time. But a great revolution took
place. The character of the old corporations changed. New forms of
property came into existence. New portions of society rose into
importance. There were in our rural districts rich cultivators, who were
not freeholders. There were in our capital rich traders, who were not
liverymen. Towns shrank into villages. Villages swelled into cities
larger than the London of the Plantagenets. Unhappily while the natural
growth of society went on, the artificial polity continued unchanged.
The ancient form of the representation remained; and precisely because
the form remained, the spirit departed. Then came that pressure almost
to bursting, the new wine in the old bottles, the new society under the
old institutions. It is now time for us to pay a decent, a rational, a manly
reverence to our ancestors, not by superstitiously adhering to what they,
in other circumstances, did, but by doing what they, in our
circumstances, would have done. All history is full of revolutions,
produced by causes similar to those which are now operating in
England. A portion of the community which had been of no account
expands and becomes strong. It demands a place in the system, suited,
not to its former weakness, but to its present power. If this is granted,
all is well. If this is refused, then comes the struggle between the young
energy of one class and the ancient privileges of another. Such was the
struggle between the Plebeians and the Patricians of Rome. Such was
the struggle of the Italian allies for admission to the full rights of
Roman citizens. Such was the struggle of our North American colonies
against the mother country. Such was the struggle which the Third

Estate of France maintained against the aristocracy of birth. Such was
the struggle which the Roman Catholics of Ireland maintained against
the aristocracy of creed. Such is the struggle which the free people of
colour in Jamaica are now maintaining against the aristocracy of skin.
Such, finally, is the struggle which the middle classes in England are
maintaining against an aristocracy of mere locality, against an
aristocracy the principle of which is to invest a hundred drunken
potwallopers in one place, or the owner of a ruined hovel in another,
with powers which are withheld from cities renowned to the furthest
ends of the earth, for the marvels of their wealth and of their industry.
But these great cities, says my honourable friend the Member for the
University of Oxford, are virtually, though not directly, represented.
Are not the wishes of Manchester, he asks, as much consulted as those
of any town which sends Members to Parliament? Now, Sir, I do not
understand how a power which is salutary when exercised virtually can
be noxious when exercised directly. If the wishes of Manchester have
as much weight with us as they would have under a system which
should give Representatives to Manchester, how can there be any
danger in giving Representatives to Manchester? A virtual
Representative is, I presume, a man who acts as a direct Representative
would act: for surely it would be absurd to say that a man virtually
represents the people of Manchester, who is in the habit of saying No,
when a man directly representing the people of Manchester would say
Aye. The utmost that can be expected from virtual Representation is
that it may be as good as direct Representation. If so, why not grant
direct Representation to places which, as everybody allows, ought, by
some process or other, to be represented?
If it be said that there is an evil in change as change, I answer that there
is also an evil in discontent as discontent. This, indeed, is the strongest
part of our case. It is said that the system works well. I deny it. I deny
that a system works well, which the people regard with aversion. We
may say here, that it is a good system and a perfect system. But if any
man were to say so to any six hundred and fifty-eight respectable
farmers or shopkeepers, chosen by lot in any part of England, he would
be hooted down, and laughed to scorn. Are these the feelings with
which any part of the government ought to be regarded? Above all, are
these the feelings with which the popular branch of the legislature

ought to be regarded? It is almost as essential to the