Front Page Titles (by Subject) 6.: The Westminster Election of 1865  5 JULY, 1865 - The Collected Works of John Stuart Mill, Volume XXVIII The Collected Works of John Stuart Mill, Volume XXVIII - Public and Parliamentary Speeches Part I November 1850 - November 1868
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6.: The Westminster Election of 1865  5 JULY, 1865 - John Stuart Mill, The Collected Works of John Stuart Mill, Volume XXVIII The Collected Works of John Stuart Mill, Volume XXVIII - Public and Parliamentary Speeches Part I November 1850 - November 1868 
The Collected Works of John Stuart Mill, Volume XXVIII - Public and Parliamentary Speeches Part I November 1850 - November 1868, ed. John M. Robson and Bruce L. Kinzer (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1988).
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The Westminster Election of 1865 
Morning Star, 6 July, 1865, p. 2. Headed: “Election Intelligence. / Meeting of Mr. J.S. Mill with the Electors of Westminster.” The speech exists in a shorter version in manuscript (Mill-Taylor Collection, printed in Appendix D), and was reported fully on 6 July also in the Daily Telegraph, the Daily News, and The Times (the last in the third person). The meeting was held in St. James’s Hall in the evening. “A considerable time before the hour for the commencement of the meeting the hall was crowded to excess by an audience, a large portion of whom seemed to be electors. The meeting displayed a feature not common at election assemblies. Both side galleries were occupied by ladies, who appeared to take a warm interest in the proceedings.” (Morning Star.) Edwin Lankester (1814–74), surgeon, coroner for central Middlesex, and professor of natural history, long known to Mill, was in the Chair. He said “it gave him great pleasure in introducing Mr. John Stuart Mill as a candidate for the suffrages of the electors of the ancient city of Westminster. (Cheers.) Mr. Mill was not unknown to them by name: he was not unknown to the people of England by reputation. (Hear.) He was known wherever the interests of humanity lay deep in the hearts of men, wherever progress and civilisation formed an element in the thoughts of men. (Hear, hear.)” (Morning Star.) “They saw before them the great philosopher of the day, and he should have been still better pleased if they could have elected him without seeing him” (Daily News). “They would find that Mr. Mill was not an advocate of chimerical theories as had been represented, but a man of large and practical views. He was a great politician and a great practical philosopher, [“and though some of his ideas were termed crotchets, they would turn out to be the seed from which they would hereafter have abundant results” (Daily News)]; and he trusted they would not from any imaginary difference of religious views push him from the pedestal on which he now stood. (Cheers.). The opposition to Mr. Mill on account of his religious opinions was disgraceful to Westminster. (Loud and prolonged cheers.)” He mentioned the “great religious teachers of the day”: Charles Kingsley (1819–75), Anglican priest and author; Frederick Denison Maurice (1805–72), also priest and author, an acquaintance of Mill’s since the 1820s; Connop Thirlwall (1797–1875), historian and Bishop of St. David’s since 1840, also known to Mill since the 1820s; and Arthur Penrhyn Stanley (1815–81), author and professor of ecclesiastical history at Oxford, Dean of Westminster since 1864: all had publicly expressed support for Mill’s candidature, in the face of his anti-Church attitudes. Those men, Lankester said, “had perfect confidence in his opinions; and he hoped therefore that they would away with the wickedness and uncharitableness which sought to reject Mr. Mill on account of his religious views. (Loud cheers.)” (Morning Star.) “Mr. Mill, on rising to address the meeting, was received with the utmost enthusiasm. The people rose en masse, and waved their hats and cheered, and again and again renewed the cheers. When silence was restored” (The Times), Mill spoke.
ladies and gentlemen, it is probable that many persons present desire that I should explain why I have hitherto abstained from all the ordinary practices of candidates, and from appearing at public meetings of the electors. My reasons for doing so have been stated in the letter in which I consented to be made a candidate;1 but that is no reason why I should not repeat them here. When I stated in my letter that for my own sake I should not desire to sit in Parliament, I meant what I said. I have no personal objects to be promoted by it. It is a great sacrifice of my personal tastes and pursuits, and of that liberty which I value the more because I have only recently acquired it after a life spent in the restraints and confinements of a public office; for, as you may not perhaps know it, and as many people think that a writer of books, like myself, cannot possibly have any practical knowledge of business, it is a fact that I have passed amany hours of every day fora thirty-five years in the actual business of government.2 These personal considerations I have cast aside—(cheers)—but there is one thing which it is not so easy to cast aside—a rooted dislike to the mode in which the suffrages of electors are ordinarily sought. To be selected by a great community as the representative of what is highest in their minds, their consciences, and their understanding—of their sincere convictions and their patriotic sentiments—is one of the highest honours which it is possible for the citizen of a free country to receive. (Hear, hear.) But to be sent into Parliament as representative of that part of the electors whose minds are to be got at by money—who are to be reached by trickery—by saying one thing and meaning another—by making professions which are not intended to be acted upon, and which being contrary to one’s own convictions it would be a greater breach of morality to keep than to violate—that I regard not as an honour but as a disgrace. (Cheers.) Therefore, when a body of this great constituency did me the honour to make the most unexpected and flattering proposal of presenting me as a candidate for your suffrages, I answered that I should not be willing to spend £10,000 in corrupting and debauchingb the constituents who are debauchable and corruptible; that neither would I give any pledge except the single pledge to be always open and above board (loud cheers); and that neither would I solicit your votes. I hold the whole system of personal solicitation to be a mistake. Not that I would condemn those who merely have conformed to a bad custom, and have done nothing to make that custom worse than they found it. A seat in Parliament ought not to be a matter of solicitation, because it cannot be a matter of favour. I have no right to ask it as a favour; you have no right to grant itc . You have no right but to select the man who appears to you to be fittest. That was my answer, and to the honour of Westminster—I may say that much, though I am a party concerned—a body of men were found who were sufficiently alive to what is due to public principle, who were sufficiently solicitous for their own honour, and for the honour of this constituency, to say dthat not the man who did those things, but the man who would not do them, was the man of their choice. (Cheers.) It remained to be seen if the electors of Westminster thought so too. (Cheers.)d That, gentlemen, is the way in which I became a candidate, and it would have been quite inconsistent with a candidature grounded on these considerations to have gone about amongst you and asked for your votese . (Hear, hear.) My principle is that you are bound to elect the fittest man. Would it have been decent in me to have gone among you and said, “I am the fittest man”? (Hear, hear.) What would have been thought of the candidate who said, “It is your duty to elect a man of merit; here am I, elect me.” (A laugh and cheers.) Gentlemen, I am not here because I proposed myself; I am here because I am proposed by others. I hope you don’t suppose that I think all the fine things true about me which have been said and written with so much exaggeration, but with a depth and strength of kind feeling towards myself, for which I never can be sufficiently grateful, by numbers of persons almost all personally unknown to me. I know that you will excuse fthese strong encomiumsf , knowing how much a man is liable to be overpraised, as well as unjustly attacked, at a contested election. (Hear, hear.)
Perhaps you may ask, since for those reasons I have during all these weeks not come among you, why I come now. I come for two reasons. I was told by those who had good means of judging that many of you desired to know more of me than you have been able to collect from what I have written. Such a statement as that left me no option, for you have a right to know my opinions and to have an opportunity of judging for yourself what man you are to select. Whatever you think right to ask concerning my political opinions it is my duty to tell you, I stand pledged to answer you—and it is the only pledge I will give—not only truly, but with perfect openness. (Cheers.) It would have been as easy for me, as it is for many others, to have put forth a plausible profession of political faith. It need not have been one of those wishy-washy, meaningless, and colourless addresses—(cheers)—of which the papers are now so full, and which a Tory, Whig and Radical might equally have signed—which bind them to nothing, and which are consistent with almost any vote that they can give. (Cheers.) I need not have been reduced to such an extremity. (Hear, hear.) I might have made out a long gbona fideg list of political questions on which I have the high satisfaction of believing that I entirely agree with you. I might have passed gently over all subjects of possible difference and observed a discreet silence about any opinion that might possibly have startled anybody. (Laughter and cheers.)h I did the very reverse. I put forth no address, but instead I undertook that whatever questions you put to me concerning my political opinions I would answer fully. (Hear, hear.) The questions that you did put to me I answered with a degree of unreserve which has been a sort of scandal in the electioneering world. (A laugh and cheers.) What compelled me to say anything about women’s votes or the representation of minorities? Is it likely that any one would have questioned me upon those points? Not one of you probably would, but you asked what my opinions on Reform were, and being asked, I did not think it consistent with plain dealing to keep back any of them. (Cheers.) I dare say I lowered myself prodigiously in the eyes of those persons who think that the cleverest thing in a candidate is to dissemble, to finesse, and to commit himself to nothing if he can possibly help it. “How injudicious!” said one; “How impractical!” said another; “How can he possibly expect to be elected on such a programme?” thought even sincere friends. In answer to all that I beg them to consider—1st, that perhaps if I had the choice I would rather be honest than be elected—(loud cheers, which continued for several minutes); and 2nd, that perhaps the electors of Westminster have a taste for honesty and may think that man who deals honestly with them before he is elected is the more likely person to deal honestly with them after he is elected. (Renewed cheers.) Of one thing I am sure—thati, even though a man should lose his election by it,i the most practical thing in the world is honestyj, and perhaps they would live to learn this lessonj . (Hear, hear.)
I suppose you would hardly expect me to travel over a whole catalogue of political questions, and tell you things which you know quite as well as I do. kIt would be better that I should answer questions afterwards, and give you any explanations that you may desire on particular points. What I will do now is to attempt to give you an idea of the general tendency of my opinions.k I am here as the candidate of advanced Liberalism—(cheers)—and I should like to tell you what in my estimation these words mean. Mr. Gladstone (cheers) in one of those memorable speeches which have made every sincere reformer look to him as our future Parliamentary leader—(cheers)—has given us a definition of the difference between Tory and Liberal. He has said that Liberalism is trust in the people, limited only by prudence; that Toryism is distrust of the people, limited only by fear. (Cheers.)3 That is a distinction which in one of its aspects is a most important one; but there is a still larger view that may be taken of the difference. A Liberal is he who looks forward for his principles of government; a Tory looks backward, (Cheers.) A Tory is of opinion that the real model of government lies somewhere behind us in the region of the past, from which we are departing further and further. Toryism means the subjection and dependence of the great mass of the community in temporal matters upon the hereditary possessors of wealth, and in spiritual matters to the Church, and therefore it is opposed lto the last moment,l to everything which could lead us further away from this model. When beaten the Tory may accept defeat by a necessity of the age, but he still hankers after the past, and still thinks that good government means the restoration in some shape mor otherm of the feudal principle—(hear, hear)—and continues to oppose all further progress in a new direction. The Liberal is something very different from this. nThe probability is,n that we have not yet arrived at the perfect model of government—that it lies before us and not behind us—that we are too far from it to be able to see it distinctly except in outline, but that we can see very clearly in what direction it lies—not in the direction of some new form of dependence, but in the emancipation of the dependent classes—more freedom, more equality, and more responsibility of each person for himself. (Loud cheers.) That, gentlemen, is the first article of my political creed. Now for the second. Believing as I do that osociety ando political institutions are, or ought to be, in a state of progressive advance; that it is the very nature of progress to lead us to recognise as truths what we do not as yet see to be truths; believing also that pby diligent study, by attention to the past, by constant application,p it is possible to see a certain distance before us, and to be able to distinguish beforehand some of these truths of the future, and to assist others to see them—I certainly think there are truths which qthe time has now arrived forq proclaiming, although the time may not yet have arrived for carrying them into effect. (Cheers.) That is what I mean by radvancedr Liberalism. sBut does it follow that, because a man sees something of the future, he is incapable of judging of the past? Does it follow that, because a man thinks of to-morrow, he knows nothing of to-day?s That is what the dunces will tell you. (Cheers and laughter.) I venture to reverse the proposition. The only persons who can judge for the present—who can judge for the day truly and safely—are those who include to-morrow in their deliberations. tWe can see the direction in which things are tending, and which of those tendencies we are to encourage and which to resist. That is a policy to which we look for all the greater good of the future.t But while I would refuse to suppress one iota of the opinions I consider best, I confess I would not object to accept any reasonable compromise which would give me even a little of that of which I hope in time to obtain the whole. (Cheers.)
There is one more topic upon which I have something to say. I have told you one reason why I have now come amongst you. There is another. The contest has changed its character. It uno longer relates to me personallyu . What you are called upon to decide is not whether you prefer me to somebody else: it is whether the representation of Westminster, up to this time the most honourable seat in the House of Commons, is to continue hereafter, as it has been heretofore, to be obtained by the honest choice of the constituents, or is to be had for money? (Cheers.) The very fact that such a question can be put—much more that there should be a doubt as to the result—is enough to fill with shame any inhabitant of Westminster who knows the ancient reputation of his city. (Cheers.) vWev Reformers have been accustomed to demand that the great landed nobility and gentry should no longer have it in their power to hoist their sons and protégés into Parliament over the heads of the constituents, passing over their minds, and addressing themselves either to their personal interests or to their hereditary subserviency. wWe object to this, and with reasonw ; but what shall we gain, what will it profit us, to weaken aristocratic ascendancy if seats in Parliament are to be put up to auction? (Hear, hear.) What is it but putting them up to auction if they are to be knocked down to the man xwith the longest purse, and who is willing to spend his moneyx ? (Cheers.) Of all the political nuisances of the day this is one which it most behoves everyone to make a stand against, because it is the only one which is increasing while almost all the others are rapidly diminishing. The great facilities for money-getting which arise from the unexampled prosperity of the country are raising up a crowd of persons who have made large fortunes or whose fathers have made large fortunes for them—(laughter)—and whose main object in life is by means of these fortunes to purchase position—that is to say, admission into the society of persons of higher rank than themselves. In this country there is only one way in which that can be done by money, and that is by getting a seat in Parliament: Was it for this purpose that the House of Commons was instituted? (Cheers.) I am the very last person to say anything disparaging of the class of persons I am speaking of and to assert that they have no business in Parliament. Many of them have strong claimsy, by their knowledge and abilities,y to a seat in the House of Commons, and are an element which it could ill spare. (Hear, hear.) But the mischief is that it is precisely those who have the least chance of getting elected on their own merits zwho have no chance of getting into good society by their talents, their education, and their breeding. It is exactly those personsz who are under the strongest temptation to employ the only other means open to them—viz., a lavish expenditure of money, in corrupting the electors—I say corrupting, not meaning necessarily a violation of the law. There is a great deal of corruption which is not technically bribery. (Hear, hear.) aIt makes no difference if a working man is paid for his vote or paid for putting a placard in his window.a Everyone who gets into Parliament by such means as these—by opening the public-houses—goes there to represent the vices of the constituency. (Cheers.) It is vain to hope that men will be shamed out of these things as long as they are not cut in societyb . But if you cannot prevent them from doing these things you can prevent them from succeeding. (Cheers.) The experiment is being tried upon you. A strong effort is being made to bring in a Tory candidate by an expenditure of money more profuse than a Tory ever attempted in this city. (Cheers.) It is tolerably well known that the majority of the electors of Westminster are not Tories—(a laugh)—and it is not uncharitable to suppose that the supporters of the Tory candidate rested their hopes upon money. If they thought that you had turned Conservative, that you had had enough of Reform, that constitutional improvements had gone far enough, and that it was now time to stop—(a laugh)—they would have selected for the distinction of representing this city one of their eminent men—one of the men who are an honour to their party—such a man as Lord Stanley.4 (Cheers.) When, instead of the man of the greatest merit they offer you a man who is willing to spend most profusely, they show plainly in what it is that they put their trust. (Cheers.)
Will you let them succeed? (Cries of No, no.) It is no exaggeration to say that all eyes are upon you. Every friend of freedom and purity of election in the country is looking to you with anxious feelings. There is another class of persons who are also looking at you, and they are thosec—and there are many of them—c who cultivate contempt of the people. All these are watching you, and hoping to find you worthy of their contempt. They are chuckling in the hope of succeeding in the attempt to debauch you. They say dthat it is not in you to elect any man except he is willing to spend his money, thatd you have no public virtue, and that public virtue is not to be expected from such people as you are. They are waiting eagerly and anxiously for you to justify their opinion. I hope you will disappoint them. (Cheers.) If you elect me and I should turn out a total failure—if I disappointed every expectation—you would have nothing to be ashamed of. You would have acted an honest part and done that which at the time seemed to be best for the public good. Can the same thing be said if you return the candidate of a party against which for a century past Westminster has in the most emphatic manner protested, for his money? If this great constituency should so degrade itself it will not only be the deepest mortification to all who put faith in popular institutions, but Westminster will have fallen from her glory, and she can never hold her head as high as she has done, because the progress of popular institutions, which cannot possibly be stopped, will have to go on ein futuree without her. (Mr. Mill resumed his seat amid loud and prolonged cheers.)
fMr. Harrow (a non-elector) asked what were Mr. Mill’s views with respect to marriage with a deceased wife’s sister .5(Great laughter and cries of Oh, and Hear, hear.)f
Mr. Mill said he ghad not considered the outs and ins of the question of marriage with a deceased wife’s sisterg , but as he did not see any hconclusiveh reason why such marriages should not be permitted, he would vote for freedom in the matter. (Cheers.)
[In reply to Mr. Morrison, an elector of the City of London] Mr. Mill said he would do away with the Irish Church, root and branch. (Cheers.)
[An elector, Mr. Whitely, asked if Mill was in favour of the Permissive Bill.]6
iMr. Mill replied that this was a question on which it was painful for him to touch, because the answer which he was conscientiously compelled to give was one contrary to the opinions of persons for whom he had a sincere respect and sympathy. (Hear, hear.) He agreed thoroughly with the teetotallers and the temperance leagues in the objects they had in view, because he believed that the prevalence of drunkenness was one of the greatest obstacles to real national progress. (Cheers.) But for all that he could not say that because some persons abused the liberty now given to use intoxicating liquors, others should be deprived of the power of using them temperately. The Permissive Bill gave the power to the majority to coerce the minority in that respect, and therefore he could not assent to such a measure. (Cheers.) He trusted to improved education to render all such coercive legislation unnecessary. (Cheers.)
Mr. Whitely—I am perfectly satisfied. (Cheers.)i
In reply to other questions,
Mr. Mill said he was jnot opposed toj capital punishment in extreme cases—in cases where murder was aggravated by brutalityk—because, although death by hanging was less painful than death in bed, and was more merciful than imprisonment for life, it had a more deterrent effect on the imaginationk . He was in favour of the opening of the British Museum and similar institutions on Sundays, under proper regulations.
Mr. Malleson then moved a resolution declaring Mr. Mill a fit and proper person to represent Westminster, and pledging the meeting to make every effort to secure his return. (Cheers.) He announced, amid loud cheers, that the split in the Liberal party was likely, he might say certainly, to be removed, and hoped that the great Liberal party would vote for Mill and Grosvenor.
[The resolution was supported by Fawcett, Lord Stanley who “appealed to the constituency of Westminster as the ‘aristocracy of democracy’ to set a good example to the country at large by electing Mr. Mill,” Potter, Montague Chambers, and Henry Vincent.]
lBefore the resolution was put, a lady in the body of the room obtained permission to make a speech. Addressing the assemblage as “Gentlemen and ladies,” she, in a vigorous and well-finished style of public speaking, said she supposed it would be needless for her to tell them she was not an elector of Westminster—(laughter)—but she had heard as a secret, and as a woman was bound to tell it, that Mr. Mill was in favour of manhood suffrage and womanhood suffrage. (Loud cheers and laughter.) It seemed to her that the complaints against Mr. Mill on that account were not complaints against vice, but against excess ofvirtue. (Cheers.) The electors of Westminster had been called the aristocracy of democracy. Let then their honour be on the side of virtue. (Cheers.) It was said that men consulted their wives as to whom they should vote for—(laughter, and a voice, That’s true)—and she had heard that members of Parliament also who had wives asked them what votes they should give. (Laughter and cheers.) It was a motto of the ancient Spartans that a free man could never be the son of a bond woman. That might be so; but wherever there was intellect, wherever there was character, conscience, responsibility, there ought to be representation, although the sex might be female. (Cheers.)
The lady’s remarks were attentively heard, but at this part of her speech the Chairman, finding time was pressing, requested her to postpone further observations until the resolution was put.l
[The resolution was carried unanimously, amidst long-continued cheers, and the meeting ended with a vote of thanks to the Chair.]
[1 ]To James Beal (7 Mar., 1865), published inter alia in the Daily News, 23 Mar., p. 1 (CW, Vol. XVI, pp. 1005–7).
[a-a]DN] MS my days for the last [reporter’s error]
[2 ]I.e., from 1823 to 1858 in the Examiner’s Office of the East India Company.
[b]Manuscript (by strictly legal means of course)
[c]Manuscript : you are conferring a solemn trust
[d-d]TT] MS that no man who would do these things ought to represent Westminster. (Cheers.) We will see if the electors don’t think so too.
[e]Manuscript directly and personally
[f-f]Manuscript what is excessive in these eulogiums
[h]Manuscript Did I do this?
[i-i]+DN] DT , even if a man loses by it,] Manuscript as DN . . . man may now and then lose his election by it, in the long run]
[j-j]+TT] Manuscript and this is a lesson politicians will have to learn
[k-k]DN] MS What I will do now is to give you an idea of the general tendency of my political opinions.] DT It is better that I should confine myself to questions you ask me; but I will attempt to show you the general tendency of my opinions.] Manuscript It is better that I should confine myself to giving explanations on any points on which you think they are needed.
[3 ]William Ewart Gladstone (1809–98), who was, following the death of Lord Palmerston, to become the leading Liberal in the Commons in the next session, Speech at Chester, 1 June, 1865 (The Times, 2 June, p. 5).
[l-l]+DT,DN,TT] Manuscript , up to the last moment
[m-m]Manuscript , perhaps a shape better adapted to the time
[n-n]DT] MS,DN He probably thinks] TT He was of opinion] Manuscript He thinks
[p-p]+DT] DN by patient study of the past and a sufficient application of our thoughts to a great subject,] Manuscript by a diligent study of the past, and application of thought to great questions
[q-q]DN which a few are now holding and
[s-s]DT] MS Does it follow that because a man sees something of to-morrow he can do nothing about to-day?] DN But does it follow that because a man can see something of the future he is not capable of judging of to-day?] Manuscript But does it follow, because a person has something to say about the future, that he must be incapable of judging of the present? That if he thinks for tomorrow, he can know nothing about today?
[t-t]DT I can see much tendency now which we ought to encourage, much to resist; but we ought to take care that the policy of the moment will be such as to fit us, and not unfit us, for the policy of the future. (Hear, hear.)] DN If we see towards what things are tending, what the tendencies are which we ought to encourage and what to resist, we shall take care that the policy of the moment shall be such as to fit us, and not unfit us, for the future. (Cheers.)] Manuscript : who can see what things we are tending to; which of the tendencies we should favour and which resist; and who will take care that his policy of the moment shall fit us instead of unfitting us for the greater good of the future. [The clause previous to this passage is in the singular.]
[u-u]DT is no longer a mere personal matter] DN now no longer regards me] Manuscript is no longer foremost to myself
[v-v]+DN,Manuscript] DT What
[w-w]+DT] Manuscript This we object to, and with reason
[x-x]+DN] Manuscript who has the longest purse, and is willing to open it widest
[z-z]DT , and who have no chance of getting into society by their talents or their education,] DN , who have no chance whatever of getting into society by their own talents, or education, or influence,] Manuscript —who have no chance of making their way into what is called good society by . . . as MS . . . breeding—it is exactly those
[a-a]DT It makes no difference to a working man whether he be paid for working or be paid for putting a placard in his window.] DN It is not more corruption to give money to get into parliament than it is to pay a man for exhibiting a placard in his window for the purpose of inducing him to vote for the man who pays him.] Manuscript To gain a seat by giving money to the electors is not less corruption because the elector does not receive the money for his vote, but for ostensible services: it makes no moral difference whether a working man is paid for voting, or for putting, for instance, a placard in his window.
[b]MS for doing them
[4 ]Edward Henry Stanley (1826–93), the son and heir of the 14th Earl of Derby, at this time M.P. for King’s Lynn, known for his abilities and his political moderation.
[c-c]+DT] Manuscript (they are very numerous)
[d-d]+DN] Manuscript that you have it not in you to elect any person but the man who will spend most money among you—that
[e-e]+DN] Manuscript for the present
[f-f]DN] MS In reply to Mr. Wanold
[5 ]A recurring question in these years, opposed by strict interpreters of the religious injunctions against marriage within the prohibited degrees of consanguinity. For the most recent legislative attempt, see “A Bill to Render Legal Certain Marriages of Affinity,” 25 Victoria (11 Feb., 1862), PP, 1862, III, 133–4 (not enacted). The question anticipates the bringing in of “A Bill to Render Legal Marriage with a Deceased Wife’s Sister,” 29 Victoria (6 Mar., 1866), PP, 1866, III, 501–3 (also not enacted).
[g-g]DN did not expect that would be the first question put to him
[6 ]Another recurrent question, most recently seen in “A Bill to Enable Owners and Occupiers of Property in Certain Districts to Prevent the Common Sale of Intoxicating Liquors within Such Districts,” 27 Victoria (10 Mar., 1864), PP, 1864, II, 357–64 (not enacted).
[i-i]DN] MS Mr. Mill said he warmly sympathised with the efforts of the temperance reformers. He believed drunkenness to be the bane of the working classes, and to be one of the greatest obstacles to their political advancement. But he could not violate principle, and did not think that it was right because some persons abused a benefit that others should be deprived of it. He relied mainly on moral means, such as education, for improving the habits of the working classes.] DT On the Permissive Bill and Maine Liquor Law, agreeing as he did with temperance, anti-drunkenness, and almost with total abstinence, on the ground that a twig sometimes required to be bent the wrong way in order to be set straight, still he could not consent to give power to the majority to tyrannise over the minority. He would trust more to improvement of morals and education, of which he believed the promoters of the Permissive Bill were also supporters.
[j-j]DT] MS only in favour of the infliction of