ABSTRACT
Thrice over had the League declared that it would support no candidate for a seat in Parliament who would not pledge himself to vote for a total repeal of the Corn Law. “ Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed,” said scoffing unbelievers. The whig administration had declared in favour of a moderate fixed duty. Would there be no favour shown to them or their adherents—no preference given to them, going so far on the right road, over the thoroughly obstructive? But there was no promise of a moderate fixed duty, no declaration that ministers would give earnest battle for a moderate fixed duty, not even an avowal of the meaning of moderate. Mr. Labouchere was in favour, he said, of eight shillings, but was willing to make it higher as a compromise. The moderate fixed duty might be twelve shillings—might be sixteen shillings—for anything that the Leaguers knew. Were all their labour of instruction—all their declaration of a principle incapable of modification—to be thrown away for this miserable consummation ? The cry was raised, “you will let the tories in;” the entreaty was resorted to, “relax your rule in our favour;” and cunning officials, thinking that what had been would be, said “their bark is worse than their bite has ever been.” The time came to try the sincerity of the Leaguers—to try whether party predilection or principle would prevail.
