Had Mr. Cobbett entered Parliament a quarter of a century previously, when it was within his power to do so through aristocratic influence, he would have been the means of forming a party earnestly devoted to the objects of Reform; and it must be regarded as a serious error on his part, arising though it did from a sturdy regard for his own independence, that he should refuse to do so; and expect to sway the House of Commons, in the smallest degree, from the outside. For it was looked upon, in those days, as something bordering on the seditious, for any one outside the walls of Parliament to pretend to discuss domestic politics; and an affectation of contempt was the only answer to the cleverest and most liberal of amateur statesmanship. As for earnestness, in the consideration of any popular question, it was not there at all; the House of Commons of 1831-2 would never have passed a Reform Bill, only that the clamour of the Unrepresented made the question vital to the existence of the Whig party; and the fiercest opponents to the popular candidates, at the elections which followed, were the ministerialists themselves. To the very last the spectacle was seen of the exclusive classes clinging to what they deemed a prescriptive right to govern. Such men, then, as Cobbett, and Silk Buckingham, and Roebuck, coming into Parliament for the first time, found themselves there under circumstances favourable only for the exercise of particular individuality; and, unless the possessor of special talents, the event proved that the individual influence of each was very small. The old members would not even listen to them; and the general feeling concerning the new men was that they were astonishingly harmless. The opening scene has been often enough described. “Some very bad characters have been returned,” says Mr. Greville.[4] Among these “bad characters” is placed the new member for Oldham; who at once establishes his claim to such epithet, by seating himself on the front bench (usually occupied by ministers), and by commencing his first speech with these words:-- “It appears to me, that, since I have been sitting here, I have heard a great deal of vain and unprofitable conversation.” But, really, there was nothing to be frightened at. Excepting that Mr. Cobbett seemed to think that a Reformer should be chosen Speaker of a Reformed Parliament, and that some disregard might be paid to the established rules of the House, there was nothing whatever to reward the expectations of those who had trembled at the bare thought of this “diabolical villain” treading the floor of that sacred chamber. There sat, night after night, one of the meekest, most inoffensive of men. When he got up to speak, there stood a fine, tall, hale old fellow, with a face sparkling with humour, and a voice of surprising gentleness; only roused to vehemence when the efforts to cough him down were somewhat too overpowering.