are one--have been assailed for a certain want of courage and what is
called, often grossly miscalled, vigour.

We were told the other day--and this brings us to the root of
policy--that there had been a momentary flash of courage in the
Government, a momentary flash of courage when the Government of India
and we here assented to the deportation of two men, and it is made a
matter of complaint that they were released immediately. Well, they
were not released immediately, but after six or eight months--I forget
exactly how many months--of detention. They were there with no charge,
no trial, nor intention of bringing them to trial. How long were we to
keep them there? Not a day, I answer, nor one hour, after the specific
and particular mischief, with a view to which this drastic proceeding
was adopted, had abated. Specific mischief, mind you. I will not go
into that argument to-night: another day I will. I will only say one
thing. To strain the meaning and the spirit of an exceptional law like
the old Regulation of the year 1818 in such a fashion as this,
what would it do? Such a strain, pressed upon us in the perverse
imagination of headstrong men, is no better than a suggestion for
provoking lawless and criminal reprisals. ("No.") You may not agree
with me. You are kindly allowing me as your guest to say things with
which perhaps you do not agree. (Cries of "Go on.") After all, we
understand one another--we speak the same language, and I tell you
that a proceeding of that kind, indefinite detention, is a thing that
would not be endured in this country. (A voice of "Disorder.") Yes, if
there were great and clear connection between the detention and the
outbreak of disorder, certainly; but as the disorder had abated it
would have been intolerable for us to continue the incarceration.

Last Monday, what is called a Press Act, was passed by the Government