The old Tory ministers who had ruled the country for fifty years went out of office, and the Whigs came into power under the premiership of Lord Grey.  Although he was pledged to parliamentary reform, his cabinet was composed entirely of noblemen, with only one exception.  There was no greater aristocrat in all England than this leader of reform,—­a cold, reticent, proud man.  Lord Russell was also an aristocrat, being a brother of the Duke of Bedford; so was Althorp, the son and heir of Earl Spencer.  The only man in the new cabinet of fearless liberality of views, the idol of the people, a man of real genius and power, was Brougham; but after he was made Lord Chancellor, the presiding officer of the Chamber of Peers, he could no longer be relied upon as the mouthpiece of the people, as he had been for years in the House of Commons.  It would almost seem that the new ministry thought more and cared more for the dominion of the Whigs than they did for a redress of the evils under which the nation groaned.  But the Whigs were pledged to parliamentary reform, and therefore were returned to Parliament.  More at least was expected of them by the middle classes, who formed the electoral body, than of the Tories, who were hostile to all reforms,—­men like Wellington and Eldon, both political bigots, great as were their talents and services.  In politics the Tories resembled the extreme Right in the French Chamber of Deputies,—­the ultra-conservatives, who sustained the throne of Charles X. The Whigs bore more resemblance to the Centre of the Chamber of Deputies, led by such men as Guizot, Broglie, and Thiers, favorable to a constitutional monarchy, but by no means radicals and democrats like Louis Blanc, Ledru Rollin, and Lamartine.  The Whigs, at the best, were as yet inclined only to such measures as would appease popular tumults, create an intelligent support to the throne, and favor necessary reform.  It was, with them, a choice between revolution and a fairer representation of the nation in Parliament.  It may be reasonably doubted whether there were a dozen men in the House of Commons that assembled at the beginning of the reign of William IV. who were democrats, or even men of popular sympathies.  What the majority conceded was from fear, rather than from a sense of justice.  The great Whig leaders of the reform movement probably did not fully foresee the logical consequences of the Reform Bill which was introduced, and the change which on its enactment would take place in the English Constitution.

Even as it was, the struggle was tremendous.  It was an epoch in English history.  The question absorbed all other interests and filled all men’s minds.  It was whether the House of Commons should represent the privileged and well-to-do middle classes or the nation,—­at least a larger part of the nation; not the people generally, but those who ought to be represented,—­those who paid considerable taxes to support the government; large towns, as well as obscure hamlets owned by the aristocracy.  The popular agitation was so violent that experienced statesmen feared a revolution which would endanger the throne itself.  Hence Lord Grey and his associates determined to carry the Reform Bill at any cost, whatever might be the opposition, as the only thing to be done if the nation would escape the perils of revolution.