Transcribed from the 1902 “Historical Lectures and Essays”Macmillan and Co. edition , email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
The rules of the Royal Institution forbid (and wisely) religiousor political controversy. It was therefore impossible for me inthese Lectures, to say much which had to be said, in drawing a justand complete picture of the Ancien Régime in France. Thepassages inserted between brackets, which bear on religious matters,were accordingly not spoken at the Royal Institution.
But more. It was impossible for me in these Lectures, to bringforward as fully as I could have wished, the contrast between the continentalnations and England, whether now, or during the eighteenth century. But that contrast cannot be too carefully studied at the present moment. In proportion as it is seen and understood, will the fear of revolution(if such exists) die out among the wealthier classes; and the wish forit (if such exists) among the poorer; and a large extension of the suffragewill be looked on as—what it actually is—a safe and harmlessconcession to the wishes—and, as I hold, to the just rights—oflarge portion of the British nation.
There exists in Britain now, as far as I can see, no one of thoseevils which brought about the French Revolution. There is no widespreadmisery, and therefore no widespread discontent, among the classes wholive by hand-labour. The legislation of the last generation hasbeen steadily in favour of the poor, as against the rich; and it iseven more true now than it was in 1789, that—as Arthur Young toldthe French mob which stopped his carriage—the rich pay many taxes(over and above the poor-rates, a direct tax on the capitalist in favourof the labourer) more than are paid by the poor. “In England”(says M. de Tocqueville of even the eighteenth century) “the poorman enjoyed the privilege of exemption from taxation; in France, therich.” Equality before the law is as well-nigh completeas it can be, where some are rich and others poor; and the only privilegedclass, it sometimes seems to me, is the pauper, who has neither theresponsibility of self-government, nor the toil of self-support.
A minority of malcontents, some justly, some unjustly, angry withthe present state of things, will always exist in this world. But a majority of malcontents we shall never have, as long as the workmenare allowed to keep untouched and unthreatened their rights of freespeech, free public meeting, free combination for all purposes whichdo not provoke a breach of the peace. There may be (and probablyare) to be found in London and the large towns, some of those revolutionarypropagandists who have terrified and tormented continental statesmensince the year 1815. But they are far fewer in number than in1848; far fewer still (I believe) than in 1831; and their habits, notions,temper, whole mental organisation, is so utterly alien to that of theaverage Englishman, that it is only the sense of wrong which can makehim take counsel with them, or make common cause with them. Meanwhile,every man who is admitted to a vote, is one more person withdrawn fromthe temptation to disloyalty, and enlisted in maintaining the powersthat be—when they are in the wrong, as well as when they are inthe right. For every Englishman is by his nature conservative;slow to form an opinion; cautious in putting it into effect; patientunder evils which seem irremediable; persevering in abolishing suchas seem remediable; and then only too ready to acquiesce in the earliestpractical result; to “rest and be thankful.” His faults,as well as his virtues, make him anti-revolutionary. He is generallytoo dull to take in a great idea; and if he does take it in, often tooselfish to apply it to any interest save his own.