Mandated Calm
Stanley's shaky coalition entered office during a period of relative calm in Britain. Peel had, despite everything, placated the rebels a few months prior, and there were no contentious debates raging in the Commons. Indeed, as much as the Whig-dominated government would have wanted to try and push for reform, it was generally agreed that plunging the nation into a second state of agitation in a period of only a few months would not be desirable, and therefore Russell was to "act in the interests of the nation" and not propose anything that might raise tension in Westminster and beyond. There was also the practical matter of whether any reforms would pass through the House in the first place. Though now in the ruling coalition, the Whigs were still not able to claim an absolute majority over the House. Many of their coalition partners were somewhat lukewarm to the idea of any large changes, with many of the so-called "Moderate Whigs" (or, more commonly, "Stanleyites") outright against big changes – part of the coalition on the basis that it was the lesser of two evils available to them.
Nonetheless, the prime minister and his 17 cabinet ministers began work quickly – if not with great fanfare. Indeed, the government remained largely quiet for a great deal of their first few months in office. The only real instances of note came from Lord Aberdeen's Foreign Office, where relations with Belgium were becoming an increasing priority. Although the Accord of St. James' signed in 1836 prevented France – at least in theory – from pursuing too close a relationship with their northern neighbours, the French Foreign Ministry, under the direction of maverick diplomat and statesman François Guizot, had been increasing attempts at establishing closer ties steadily since Stanley's appointment. Aberdeen was not pleased by developments, to say the least, and set about rectifying the situation[1]. Various diplomats and ambassadors were dispatched to Brussels post haste with the direction of ensuring the continuation of Belgium's good relations with Britain – an alliance representing most of the United Kingdom's interests in mainland Europe. Increasingly, especially, over the previous four years, Britain had drifted further away from European affairs, preferring instead to focus on her colonies and potential future colonies. This isolationist stance was a far cry from Palmerston's interventionist foreign policy, though was well suited to Stanley's intentions of a calm term. Minimising her presence in Europe allowed Britain to keep herself out of any disputes between nations and, above all in the eyes of many, gave her a chance to focus on building her empire abroad.
A Nation's Stagnation
The rest of the government remained sedate, however, with little action at home or abroad. By February of 1844, many commentators were suggesting that the last vestiges of any tension had disappeared and the country was now, once again, calm. Indeed, many of the radical organisations ceased operations in the New Year, with Attwood and his Political Union winding down activities a notable example. Perhaps ironically, nearly three quarters of the way through their first year in government, Stanley's ministry's largest achievement had been not doing anything. As attractive as this was from a stability point of view, many in the opposition began to accuse the government of leading Britain to a state of stagnation. Differences within the coalition, many leading Peelite Tories said, had led to a state of over-cautiousness within a government more worried about staying in power than improving the nation. Indeed, though there had been no major incidents, Stanley was yet to weather one year of a potential four.[2] For the Tories in opposition, this was highly worrying, with many pessimsits fearing a further three years of no action and decline. Whispers of discontent even began to seep into the government, with more radical Whigs growing tired of having to wait to propose reform. For his part, Russell refused to jeopardise the stability of the government, not wishing to give Peel and opportunity to reform his ministry, though that is not to say that he was wholly satisfied Ith the current state of affairs. Though not as chauvinistic as the Ultra-Tories lamenting the United Kingdom's status as the world power, he had no desire to see the country stagnate.
Advances in Science and Status
He would get his wish. In May, Lord Howick, Secretary of State for War and the Colonies and son and heir to former prime minister the Earl Grey, began preparations to send an expedition to New Zealand's South Island with the intention of establishing sovereignty over the area. Much of the North Island was already under British control and Howick was keen to see that hegemony extended – not in the least to get one over the nay-saying Tories bemoaning the nation's decline. Howick's work in the Colonial Office paid off, both in terms of securing yet more land for the ever-growing British Empire and in terms of catalysing the journeys out of stagnation.
Scientific advances had been common in Britain for a long time before Stanley's rise to power – most notably during Peel's ministry – though the slew of discoveries showed no signs of stopping. Medical advances were made by researchers at the Royal Society of Medicine in February, while scientists working at Cambridge University made groundbreaking advances in biology in the summer. Improvements to weaponry paled in comparison, though were notable if only as further proof of the country's escape from stagnation. By the time the annexation of the South Island had been completed in February 1845, breakthroughs in thorax surgery had also been made by British scientists, though the most shocking advice of the year would not come from any researchers or university.
Advances were manifold and varied, putting Britain at the very forefront of the global scientific and ethnological community. Developments in the mid 1840s were very much the highlight of the early part of Stanley's term.
Shaking the Tree
The annual reshuffle of the House of Lords surprised many when announced in the New Year. Deaths, inheritances and appointments had come together to give the Whigs significant gains – far larger than those of previous years. Most importantly, however, it meant that, going into 1845, the Whigs were closer than ever to the Tories' majority, which had been shaved down to around 7%. Though this renewed talk of reform, as with every Whiggish gain, Russell stuck firm to his "stability principle". No large scale reform would be proposed that had the potential to destabilise the government.
This approach to reform was not popular with many members of Russell's party who did not like seeing the party abandon their principles in favour of helping an undesirable coalition stay afloat. There was talk in some circles of plotting a coup against Russell, just as he had helped dethrone Peel, though this was quickly dismissed. It was not Russell who was the problem, however, but Stanley. Meeting in the rooms of the Reform Club, the disillusioned quickly realised that there was little chance of them being able to topple Stanley – and neither would it be desireable. At best, the Whigs could struggle on until the elections as a minority government, though this was unlikely (far more likely in this scenario would be some sort of Peel-led Tory government – or so was decided.) The worst case scenario would see those disillusioned ostracised by their party and forced into the poltical wilderness – a far more frightening possibility for the young men with aspirations on higher office. Only one option was left to the group – now calling themselves the "Reform Set". They would force Stanley's hand.
It was agreed that the Repealers under Daniel O'Connell had the power to significantly "upset the ministerial coach", to use Stanley's own words. Though now only a relatively small party within government, O'Connell's votes were nonetheless the difference between the government commanding a majority and scraping by with a minority. O'Connell was also in another vantage position as far as his status within government was concerned – his dislike of Stanley was well-known and passionate. The Reform Set reasoned, therefore, that he would be only too happy to help "quicken the progress of our cause". They guessed correctly. O'Connell, deeply concerned at the effect the agreement to not jeopardise the government was having on his chances of bringing further reform to Ireland was only too happy to oblige. A plan was drawn up. O'Connell would deliver a speech in the Commons stating that, unless he saw signs of reform by the end of the month, he – and, most importantly, his party – would resign their positions in government. As ever in British politics, however, things would not prove so clear cut.
Perhaps surprisingly, Russell himself had grown frustrated by a lack of progress demonstrated by the government. Since the shift in the Lords, he had grown more optimistic of he chances of reform passing – also keenly aware that all vestiges of the rioting experienced during Peel's ministry had long since subsided. In short, he saw no problem with proposing reform now that the country was stable once more. The perennial favourite, of course, was electoral reform, evocative of the Whigs' greatest triumph during the Reform Crisis of 1833. Russell, however, knew that this would be far too contentious a topic to bring up, lest he be engaged in a protracted battle in the Commons and relight any seditious embers still hiding in the country. It was therefore decided that the party would target a somewhat less discussed area in need of reform – that of tariffs.
Since 1815, a tariff had been placed on corn, artificially raising its price so as to ensure that British farmers would be able to compete with cheaper crops from abroad. These tariffs were known as the Corn Laws, and, for many, represented a great hindrance in the development of Britain's economy – to its supporters, the economy grew because of the laws; to its detractors, it grew in spite of them[3]. The argument had gradually become more prominent – and polarising – since the late 1830s, with the number of those opposed generally decreasing her on year. One MP in particular, a certain Charles Pelham Villiers, was an ardent supporter of their repeal, having put motions to the House of Commons suggesting such each year since 1838. Melbourne's Whigs had, somewhat inexplicably, left the issue untouched and never advocated it with any great vigour – likely in order to focus on the main goal of enacting electoral reform. Peel, meanwhile, though a self-described follower of Smith, Hume and Ricardo[4], joined his Tories in supporting the tariffs during his spell in government.
Russell (left) and Villiers (right): the two main supporters of free trade in Britain.
Unluckily for Russell, this pattern looked unlikely to change, with one of Stanley's main criticisms of Peel being his known free trade sympathies. Stanley was a deep supporter of the upholding of the Corn Laws, his Stanleyites largely protectionist along with him. Indeed, it is perhaps ironic that, having orchestrated Peel's demise on the basis that the former prime minister had grown too draconian a Tory, Stanley now found himself standing much further to the right of Peel on the issue of trade. There were, however, some links between the free traders and the Stanleyites – notably in the form of Foreign Secretary, the Earl of Aberdeen, and First Lord of the Admiralty, Sir James Graham. Lord Aberdeen was known as a less loyal ally of Stanley than Graham, and was therefore targeted by Russell and the Reform Set as a potential way in to Stanley's following, whom the Whigs would need to support repeal were they not to bring down the government. Aberdeen, although receptive to the idea, warned that Stanley would certainly not be. Repeal, he warned, would come at a cost; "one cannot expect to shake the tree without seeing things fall". Russell and his fellow reformers pushed on nonetheless, and preparations were made for the repeal bill's presentation – prosaically titled the "Amendment to the Importation Bill". By July, a bill had been drafted and was ready to be put to the House. As fate would have it, the timing could not have been better.
An Gorta Mór
Or, at least, so went the general feeling at the Reform Club. Since early summer, reports had been coming in of a "mysterious murrain" afftecting the nation's potato crops. Blights had already struck Belgium and even the Isle of Wight[5], with worried that it might spread. Such an infection would not be good for Britain. As Benjamin Disraeli had remarked in 1844 , the country was suffering from "a starving population, an absentee aristocracy and an alien Church, and in addition the weakest executive in the world". A shortage of what was a stole food for many would raise questions across the country as to what could be done to combat the issue, highly beneficial for those championing a repeal of the Corn Laws – which would lower the price of corn to help fight a lack of food. Whereas a blight would be bad for England, however, for Ireland it would be a disaster. A gradual reliance on potato crops for food – by 1845, nearly one third of Ireland's population were reliant on the crop – mixed with various Anglo-centric measures and institutions in the country that served to benefit Westminster ensured that any crop failure would be met with widespread suffering. When in September it was reported that the blight had hit Ireland, then, the people of the Emerald Isle braced themselves for hardship.
The sight of marasmic children was not uncommon, scarring many eyewitnesses and turning the mood against the "inadequate" measures of the government in Westminster.
Daniel O'Connell, the
de facto main representative of the Irish people in the Commons, was quick to call upon Stanley for assistance. He argued, along with his Repealers – representing about five percent of the government – that surplus grain should be sent to Ireland, and that money should spent on public works (especially railroads) to try and prevent widespread poverty. Stanley acquiesced, and money was invested in numerous public works to provide jobs for those affected by the blight. The price of grain and corn, however, remained high, limiting the effectiveness of the scheme by ensuring that many did not have the money to pay for all of the food they needed. Indeed, Stanley did not help the situation by refusing to send surplus grain from England, arguing that it was needed to combat the contemporaneous (though much less severe) blight in the country. He did, however, enter into secret deals to buy large volumes of grain from abroad to alleviate the famine, though, as with the public works, the scheme ultimately helped little, with the grain found to be "inadequate and inedible" upon its arrival in Ireland.
By the end of the year, starvation was beginning to become a large problem, with the sight of emaciated farmers and labourers a common one passing through Ireland's streets. Though its actions were well intentioned, it was becoming increasingly clear to many – not least O'Connell, whose opinion of Stanley was not improving as the famine continued – that the government were not able to relieve the situation. It was agreed that a different strategy would be tried.
Russell and Villiers were yet to present their Amendment to the Importation Bill, and so were still in a position to prove that free market economics and free trade would have a more positive effect on the crisis than any amount of inadequate intervention. Many things had been affected by the famine, yet the prime minister's policy of interventionism still survived. The Reformists new that, were they to propose the bill, and were it to pass, in all likelihood the government would not survive. Nevertheless, to Russell and Villiers, desperate times called for desperate measures. On the 7th January 1846, the bill was delivered to the House of Commons for the first time from the dispatch box – the balance of power hanging ever more precariously with each word.
1: In our timeline, Aberdeen and Guizot were actually very good friends.
2: The House's electoral mandate would expire in January 1847, at which point the country would go to the polls.
3: Many more cynical supporters – notably large landowners – were believed to have been in favour of repeal for the sole reason that reducing the price of a staple food such as corn would allow them to pay workers less.
4: Adam, David and David, respectively.
5: A concerned Gardener's Chronicle reported humorously that "there is hardly a sound sample in Covent Garden market".