doubt, by aid of an elaborate machinery of administration and a powerful body of police, Government can, to a certain extent, guide, or at any rate restrain, the conduct of its subjects. Even in this respect its powers are very limited, and a law which does not command the consent of the body of the people must soon be repealed or become inoperative. But, as regards the creation of institutions, Parliament is almost powerless, except by consulting the needs of the time, and offering facilities for such institutions to grow up as experience shows to be successful. But an unfortunate confusion of ideas exists, and it seems to be supposed that, because for reasons of obvious convenience the civil and criminal laws are as a general rule made uniform for the whole kingdom, therefore the legislative action of Parliament must always be uniform and definitive. When an important change is advocated, for instance, in the licensing laws, Parliament collects abundant information, which is usually inconclusive, and then proceeds to effect all over the kingdom some very costly and irrevocable change—a change which generally disappoints its own advocates. Take the case of the Sale of Beer Act of 1830, generally known as the Beershop Act. This is a salient example of bad legislation. Yet it was passed by the almost unanimous wisdom of Parliament, the division in the House of Commons on the second reading showing two hundred and forty-five ayes and only twenty-nine noes. The act originated with Brougham, in the sense that he had in 1822 and 1823 brought in somewhat similar bills, which were partially adopted by the Government of 1830. The idea of the act was to break down the monopoly of the brewers and publicans; to throw open the trade in beer on free-trade principles; and, by offering abundance of wholesome, pure, weak beer, to draw away the working classes from the ginshops. All seemed as plausible as it was undoubtedly well intended. Objections were of course made to the bill, and many people predicted evil consequences; but all such sinister predictions were supposed to be spread about by the interested publicans and brewers. Nevertheless, the new act was soon believed to be a mistake. Sydney Smith, though he had not many years before pleaded for liberty for the people to drink rum-and-water, or whatever else they liked ("Edinburgh Review," 1819), quickly veered round, and gave a graphic account of the beastly state of drunkenness of the sovereign people.
It may be safely said that the Beershop Act realized all the evils expected from it, and few or none of the advantages. It is difficult to say anything in favor of the bar at the corner public-house, except that it is better than the dirty low little beershop, hiding itself away in some obscure recess of the streets. The first is at any rate under the gaze of the public and the control of the magistrates; the beershop, until within the last few years, was too likely to become the uncontrolled resort of the worst classes. Even now that the beershops are brought under the Licensing Magistrates, many years must elapse
