Now, Sir, it seems to me that this argument was completely refuted by

the able and eloquent speech of my right honourable friend the Judge

Advocate. (Sir George Grey.) He said, and he said most truly, that those

who hold this language are really accusing, not the Government of Lord

Melbourne, but the Government of Lord Grey. I was therefore, I must say,

surprised, after the speech of my right honourable friend, to hear

the right honourable Baronet the Member for Pembroke, himself a

distinguished member of the cabinet of Lord Grey, pronounce a harangue

against agitation. That he was himself an agitator he does not venture

to deny; but he tries to excuse himself by saying, "I liked the Reform

Bill; I thought it a good bill; and so I agitated for it; and, in

agitating for it, I acknowledge that I went to the very utmost limit of

what was prudent, to the very utmost limit of what was legal." Does not

the right honourable Baronet perceive that, by setting up this defence

for his own past conduct, he admits that agitation is good or evil,

according as the objects of the agitation are good or evil? When I hear

him speak of agitation as a practice disgraceful to a public man, and

especially to a Minister of the Crown, and address his lecture in a

particular manner to me, I cannot but wonder that he should not perceive

that his reproaches, instead of wounding me, recoil on himself. I was

not a member of the Cabinet which brought in the Reform Bill, which

dissolved the Parliament in a moment of intense excitement in order

to carry the Reform Bill, which refused to serve the Sovereign longer

unless he would create peers in sufficient numbers to carry the Reform

Bill. I was at that time only one of those hundreds of members of this

House, one of those millions of Englishmen, who were deeply impressed

with the conviction that the Reform Bill was one of the best laws

that ever had been framed, and who reposed entire confidence in the

abilities, the integrity, and the patriotism of the ministers; and

I must add that in no member of the administration did I place more

confidence than in the right honourable Baronet, who was then First

Lord of the Admiralty, and in the noble lord who was then Secretary for

Ireland. (Lord Stanley.) It was indeed impossible for me not to see that

the public mind was strongly, was dangerously stirred: but I trusted

that men so able, men so upright, men who had so large a stake in the

country, would carry us safe through the storm which they had raised.

And is it not rather hard that my confidence in the right honourable

Baronet and the noble lord is to be imputed to me as a crime by the very

men who are trying to raise the right honourable Baronet and the noble

lord to power? The Charter, we have been told in this debate, is the

child of the Reform Bill. But whose child is the Reform Bill? If men are

to be deemed unfit for office because they roused the national spirit

to support that bill, because they went as far as the law permitted in

order to carry that bill, then I say that no men can be more unfit for

office than the right honourable Baronet and the noble lord. It may be

thought presumptuous in me to defend two persons who are so well able to

defend themselves, and the more so, as they have a powerful ally in

the right honourable Baronet the Member for Tamworth, who, having twice

offered them high places in the Government, must be supposed to be of

opinion that they are not disqualified for being ministers by having

been agitators. I will, however, venture to offer some arguments in

vindication of the conduct of my noble and right honourable friends,

as I once called them, and as, notwithstanding the asperity which

has characterised the present debate, I should still have pleasure in

calling them. I would say in their behalf that agitation ought not to be

indiscriminately condemned; that great abuses ought to be removed;

that in this country scarcely any great abuse was ever removed till the

public feeling had been roused against it; and that the public feeling

has seldom been roused against abuses without exertions to which the

name of agitation may be given. I altogether deny the assertion which

we have repeatedly heard in the course of this debate, that a government

which does not discountenance agitation cannot be trusted to suppress

rebellion. Agitation and rebellion, you say, are in kind the same thing:

they differ only in degree. Sir, they are the same thing in the sense

in which to breathe a vein and to cut a throat are the same thing. There

are many points of resemblance between the act of the surgeon and the

act of the assassin. In both there is the steel, the incision, the

smart, the bloodshed. But the acts differ as widely as possible both in

moral character and in physical effect. So with agitation and rebellion.

I do not believe that there has been any moment since the revolution

of 1688 at which an insurrection in this country would have been

justifiable. On the other hand, I hold that we have owed to agitation a

long series of beneficent reforms which could have been effected in no

other way. Nor do I understand how any person can reprobate agitation,

merely as agitation, unless he is prepared to adopt the maxim of Bishop

Horsley, that the people have nothing to do with the laws but to

obey them. The truth is that agitation is inseparable from popular

government. If you wish to get rid of agitation, you must establish an

oligarchy like that of Venice, or a despotism like that of Russia. If

a Russian thinks that he is able to suggest an improvement in the

commercial code or the criminal code of his country, he tries to obtain

an audience of the Emperor Nicholas or of Count Nesselrode. If he

can satisfy them that his plans are good, then undoubtedly, without

agitation, without controversy in newspapers, without harangues from

hustings, without clamorous meetings in great halls and in marketplaces,

without petitions signed by tens of thousands, you may have a reform

effected with one stroke of the pen. Not so here. Here the people, as

electors, have power to decide questions of the highest importance. And

ought they not to hear and read before they decide? And how can they

hear if nobody speaks, or read if nobody writes? You must admit,

then, that it is our right, and that it may be our duty, to attempt

by speaking and writing to induce the great body of our countrymen to

pronounce what we think a right decision; and what else is agitation? In

saying this I am not defending one party alone. Has there been no Tory

agitation? No agitation against Popery? No agitation against the new

Poor Law? No agitation against the plan of education framed by the

present Government? Or, to pass from questions about which we differ to

questions about which we all agree: Would the slave trade ever have

been abolished without agitation? Would slavery ever have been abolished

without agitation? Would your prison discipline ever have been improved

without agitation? Would your penal code, once the scandal of the

Statute Book, have been mitigated without agitation? I am far from

denying that agitation may be abused, may be employed for bad ends, may

be carried to unjustifiable lengths. So may that freedom of speech

which is one of the most precious privileges of this House. Indeed,

the analogy is very close. What is agitation but the mode in which the

public, the body which we represent, the great outer assembly, if I may

so speak, holds its debates? It is as necessary to the good government

of the country that our constituents should debate as that we should

debate. They sometimes go wrong, as we sometimes go wrong. There

is often much exaggeration, much unfairness, much acrimony in their

debates. Is there none in ours? Some worthless demagogues may have

exhorted the people to resist the laws. But what member of Lord Grey's

Government, what member of the present Government, ever gave any

countenance to any illegal proceedings? It is perfectly true that some

words which have been uttered here and in other places, and which, when

taken together with the context and candidly construed, will appear to

mean nothing but what was reasonable and constitutional and moderate,

have been distorted and mutilated into something that has a seditious

aspect. But who is secure against such misrepresentation? Not, I am

sure, the right honourable Baronet the Member for Pembroke. He ought to

remember that his own speeches have been used by bad men for bad ends.

He ought to remember that some expressions which he used in 1830, on

the subject of the emoluments divided among Privy Councillors, have been

quoted by the Chartists in vindication of their excesses. Do I blame him

for this? Not at all. He said nothing that was not justifiable. But it

is impossible for a man so to guard his lips that his language shall not

sometimes be misunderstood by dull men, and sometimes misrepresented

by dishonest men. I do not, I say, blame him for having used those

expressions: but I do say that, knowing how his own expressions had been

perverted, he should have hesitated before he threw upon men, not

less attached than himself to the cause of law, of order and property,

imputations certainly not better founded than those to which he is

himself liable.

And now, Sir, to pass by many topics to which, but for the lateness of

the hour, I would willingly advert, let me remind the House that

the question before us is not a positive question, but a question of

comparison. No man, though he may disapprove of some part of the conduct

of the present Ministers, is justified in voting for the motion which we

are considering, unless he believes that a change would, on the whole,

be beneficial. No government is perfect: but some government there must

be; and if the present government were worse than its enemies think it,

it ought to exist until it can be succeeded by a better. Now I take it

to be perfectly clear that, in the event of the removal of Her Majesty's

present advisers, an administration must be formed of which the right

honourable Baronet the Member for Tamworth will be the head. Towards

that right honourable Baronet, and towards many of the noblemen and

gentlemen who would probably in that event be associated with him, I

entertain none but kind and respectful feelings. I am far, I hope, from

that narrowness of mind which makes a man unable to see merit in any

party but his own. If I may venture to parody the old Venetian proverb,

I would be "First an Englishman; and then a Whig." I feel proud of my

country when I think how much ability, uprightness, and patriotism may

be found on both sides of the House. Among our opponents stands forth,

eminently distinguished by parts, eloquence, knowledge, and, I willingly

admit, by public spirit, the right honourable Baronet the Member for

Tamworth. Having said this, I shall offer no apology for the remarks

which, in the discharge of my public duty, I shall make, without, I

hope, any personal discourtesy, on his past conduct, and his present

position.

It has been, Sir, I will not say his fault, but his misfortune, his

fate, to be the leader of a party with which he has no sympathy. To go

back to what is now matter of history, the right honourable Baronet

bore a chief part in the restoration of the currency. By a very

large proportion of his followers the restoration of the currency is

considered as the chief cause of the distresses of the country. The

right honourable Baronet cordially supported the commercial policy of Mr

Huskisson. But there was no name more odious than that of Mr Huskisson

to the rank and file of the Tory party. The right honourable Baronet

assented to the Act which removed the disabilities of the Protestant

Dissenters. But, a very short time ago, a noble Duke, one of the

highest in power and rank of the right honourable Baronet's adherents,

positively refused to lend his aid to the executing of that Act.

The right honourable Baronet brought in the bill which removed the

disabilities of the Roman Catholics: but his supporters make it a chief

article of charge against us that we have given practical effect to

the law which is his best title to public esteem. The right honourable

Baronet has declared himself decidedly favourable to the new Poor Law.

Yet, if a voice is raised against the Whig Bastilles and the Kings of

Somerset House, it is almost certain to be the voice of some zealous

retainer of the right honourable Baronet. On the great question of

privilege, the right honourable Baronet has taken a part which entitles

him to the gratitude of all who are solicitous for the honour and the

usefulness of the popular branch of the legislature. But if any person

calls us tyrants, and calls those whom we have imprisoned martyrs, that

person is certain to be a partisan of the right honourable Baronet.

Even when the right honourable Baronet does happen to agree with his

followers as to a conclusion, he seldom arrives at that conclusion by

the same process of reasoning which satisfies them. Many great questions

which they consider as questions of right and wrong, as questions of

moral and religious principle, as questions which must, for no earthly

object, and on no emergency, be compromised, are treated by him merely

as questions of expediency, of place, and of time. He has opposed many

bills introduced by the present Government; but he has opposed them on

such grounds that he is at perfect liberty to bring in the same bills

himself next year, with perhaps some slight variation. I listened to him

as I always listen to him, with pleasure, when he spoke last session on

the subject of education. I could not but be amused by the skill with

which he performed the hard task of translating the gibberish of bigots

into language which might not misbecome the mouth of a man of sense. I

felt certain that he despised the prejudices of which he condescended

to make use, and that his opinion about the Normal Schools and the Douai

Version entirely agreed with my own. I therefore do not think that,

in times like these, the right honourable Baronet can conduct the

administration with honour to himself or with satisfaction to those

who are impatient to see him in office. I will not affect to feel

apprehensions from which I am entirely free. I do not fear, and I will

not pretend to fear, that the right honourable Baronet will be a tyrant

and a persecutor. I do not believe that he will give up Ireland to the

tender mercies of those zealots who form, I am afraid, the strongest,

and I am sure the loudest, part of his retinue. I do not believe that

he will strike the names of Roman Catholics from the Privy Council book,

and from the Commissions of the Peace. I do not believe that he will

lay on our table a bill for the repeal of that great Act which was

introduced by himself in 1829. What I do anticipate is this, that he

will attempt to keep his party together by means which will excite

grave discontents, and yet that he will not succeed in keeping his party

together; that he will lose the support of the Tories without obtaining

the support of the nation; and that his government will fall from causes

purely internal.

This, Sir, is not mere conjecture. The drama is not a new one. It was

performed a few years ago on the same stage and by most of the same

actors. In 1827 the right honourable Baronet was, as now, the head of

a powerful Tory opposition. He had, as now, the support of a strong

minority in this House. He had, as now, a majority in the other House.

He was, as now, the favourite of the Church and of the Universities. All

who dreaded political change, all who hated religious liberty, rallied

round him then, as they rally round him now. Their cry was then, as

now, that a government unfriendly to the civil and ecclesiastical

constitution of the realm was kept in power by intrigue and court

favour, and that the right honourable Baronet was the man to whom the

nation must look to defend its laws against revolutionists, and its

religion against idolaters. At length that cry became irresistible.

Tory animosity had pursued the most accomplished of Tory statesmen and

orators to a resting place in Westminster Abbey. The arrangement which

was made after his death lasted but a very few months: a Tory government

was formed; and the right honourable Baronet became the leading minister

of the Crown in the House of Commons. His adherents hailed his elevation

with clamorous delight, and confidently expected many years of triumph

and dominion. Is it necessary to say in what disappointment, in what

sorrow, in what fury, those expectations ended? The right honourable

Baronet had been raised to power by prejudices and passions in which

he had no share. His followers were bigots. He was a statesman. He was

coolly weighing conveniences against inconveniences, while they were

ready to resort to a proscription and to hazard a civil war rather than

depart from what they called their principles. For a time he tried to

take a middle course. He imagined that it might be possible for him to

stand well with his old friends, and yet to perform some part of his

duty to the state. But those were not times in which he could long

continue to halt between two opinions. His elevation, as it had excited

the hopes of the oppressors, had excited also the terror and the rage of

the oppressed. Agitation, which had, during more than a year, slumbered

in Ireland, awoke with renewed vigour, and soon became more formidable

than ever. The Roman Catholic Association began to exercise authority

such as the Irish Parliament, in the days of its independence, had never

possessed. An agitator became more powerful than the Lord Lieutenant.

Violence engendered violence. Every explosion of feeling on one side of

St George's Channel was answered by a louder explosion on the other.

The Clare election, the Penenden Heath meeting showed that the time

for evasion and delay was past. A crisis had arrived which made it

absolutely necessary for the Government to take one side or the other. A

simple issue was proposed to the right honourable Baronet, concession

or civil war; to disgust his party, or to ruin his country. He chose

the good part. He performed a duty, deeply painful, in some sense

humiliating, yet in truth highly honourable to him. He came down to this

House and proposed the emancipation of the Roman Catholics. Among his

adherents were some who, like himself, had opposed the Roman Catholic

claims merely on the ground of political expediency; and these persons

readily consented to support his new policy. But not so the great body

of his followers. Their zeal for Protestant ascendency was a ruling

passion, a passion, too, which they thought it a virtue to indulge. They

had exerted themselves to raise to power the man whom they regarded as

the ablest and most trusty champion of that ascendency; and he had not

only abandoned the good cause, but had become its adversary. Who can

forget in what a roar of obloquy their anger burst forth? Never before

was such a flood of calumny and invective poured on a single head. All

history, all fiction were ransacked by the old friends of the right

honourable Baronet, for nicknames and allusions. One right honourable

gentleman, who I am sorry not to see in his place opposite, found

English prose too weak to express his indignation, and pursued his

perfidious chief with reproaches borrowed from the ravings of the

deserted Dido. Another Tory explored Holy Writ for parallels, and could

find no parallel but Judas Iscariot. The great university which had been

proud to confer on the right honourable Baronet the highest marks of

favour, was foremost in affixing the brand of infamy. From Cornwall,

from Northumberland, clergymen came up by hundreds to Oxford, in order

to vote against him whose presence, a few days before, would have set

the bells of their parish churches jingling. Nay, such was the violence

of this new enmity that the old enmity of the Tories to Whigs, Radicals,

Dissenters, Papists, seemed to be forgotten. That Ministry which, when

it came into power at the close of 1828, was one of the strongest that

the country ever saw, was, at the close of 1829, one of the weakest. It

lingered another year, staggering between two parties, leaning now on

one, now on the other, reeling sometimes under a blow from the right,

sometimes under a blow from the left, and certain to fall as soon as the

Tory opposition and the Whig opposition could find a question on which

to unite. Such a question was found: and that Ministry fell without a

struggle.

Now what I wish to know is this. What reason have we to believe that any

administration which the right honourable Baronet can now form will have

a different fate? Is he changed since 1829? Is his party changed? He

is, I believe, still the same, still a statesman, moderate in opinions,

cautious in temper, perfectly free from that fanaticism which inflames

so many of his supporters. As to his party, I admit that it is not

the same; for it is very much worse. It is decidedly fiercer and

more unreasonable than it was eleven years ago. I judge by its public

meetings; I judge by its journals; I judge by its pulpits, pulpits which

every week resound with ribaldry and slander such as would disgrace the

hustings. A change has come over the spirit of a part, I hope not the

larger part, of the Tory body. It was once the glory of the Tories

that, through all changes of fortune, they were animated by a steady

and fervent loyalty which made even error respectable, and gave to what

might otherwise have been called servility something of the manliness

and nobleness of freedom. A great Tory poet, whose eminent services

to the cause of monarchy had been ill requited by an ungrateful Court,

boasted that

"Loyalty is still the same,

Whether it win or lose the game;

True as the dial to the sun,

Although it be not shined upon."

Toryism has now changed its character. We have lived to see a monster of

a faction made up of the worst parts of the Cavalier and the worst parts

of the Roundhead. We have lived to see a race of disloyal Tories. We

have lived to see Tories giving themselves the airs of those insolent

pikemen who puffed out their tobacco smoke in the face of Charles the

First. We have lived to see Tories who, because they are not allowed to

grind the people after the fashion of Strafford, turn round and revile

the Sovereign in the style of Hugh Peters. I say, therefore, that, while

the leader is still what he was eleven years ago, when his moderation

alienated his intemperate followers, his followers are more intemperate

than ever. It is my firm belief that the majority of them desire the

repeal of the Emancipation Act. You say, no. But I will give reasons,

and unanswerable reasons, for what I say. How, if you really wish to

maintain the Emancipation Act, do you explain that clamour which you

have raised, and which has resounded through the whole kingdom, about

the three Popish Privy Councillors? You resent, as a calumny, the

imputation that you wish to repeal the Emancipation Act; and yet you cry

out that Church and State are in danger of ruin whenever the Government

carries that Act into effect. If the Emancipation Act is never to be

executed, why should it not be repealed? I perfectly understand that an

honest man may wish it to be repealed. But I am at a loss to understand

how honest men can say, "We wish the Emancipation Act to be maintained:

you who accuse us of wishing to repeal it slander us foully: we value

it as much as you do. Let it remain among our statutes, provided always

that it remains as a dead letter. If you dare to put it in force,

indeed, we will agitate against you; for, though we talk against

agitation, we too can practice agitation: we will denounce you in our

associations; for, though we call associations unconstitutional, we

too have our associations: our divines shall preach about Jezebel: our

tavern spouters shall give significant hints about James the Second."

Yes, Sir, such hints have been given, hints that a sovereign who has

merely executed the law, ought to be treated like a sovereign who

grossly violated the law. I perfectly understand, as I said, that an

honest man may disapprove of the Emancipation Act, and may wish it

repealed. But can any man, who is of opinion that Roman Catholics ought

to be admitted to office, honestly maintain that they now enjoy more

than their fair share of power and emolument? What is the proportion

of Roman Catholics to the whole population of the United Kingdom?

About one-fourth. What proportion of the Privy Councillors are Roman

Catholics? About one-seventieth. And what, after all, is the power of a

Privy Councillor, merely as such? Are not the right honourable gentlemen

opposite Privy Councillors? If a change should take place, will not the

present Ministers still be Privy Councillors? It is notorious that no

Privy Councillor goes to Council unless he is specially summoned. He is

called Right Honourable, and he walks out of a room before Esquires and

Knights. And can we seriously believe that men who think it monstrous

that this honorary distinction should be given to three Roman Catholics,

do sincerely desire to maintain a law by which a Roman Catholic may be

Commander in Chief with all the military patronage, First Lord of the

Admiralty with all the naval patronage, or First Lord of the Treasury,

with the chief influence in every department of the Government. I must

therefore suppose that those who join in the cry against the three Privy

Councillors, are either imbecile or hostile to the Emancipation Act.

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