Ah! governments were governments, and judges were judges, in my day,
Mr. Hood. There was no nonsense then. Any of your seditious
complainings, and we were ready with the military on the shortest
notice. We should have charged Covent Garden Theatre, sir, on a
Wednesday night: at the point of the bayonet. Then, the judges
were full of dignity and firmness, and knew how to administer the
law. There is only one judge who knows how to do his duty, now. He
tried that revolutionary female the other day, who, though she was
in full work (making shirts at three-halfpence a piece), had no
pride in her country, but treasonably took it in her head, in the
distraction of having been robbed of her easy earnings, to attempt
to drown herself and her young child; and the glorious man went out
of his way, sir--out of his way--to call her up for instant sentence
of Death; and to tell her she had no hope of mercy in this world--as
you may see yourself if you look in the papers of Wednesday the 17th
of April. He won't be supported, sir, I know he won't; but it is
worth remembering that his words were carried into every
manufacturing town of this kingdom, and read aloud to crowds in
every political parlour, beer-shop, news-room, and secret or open
place of assembly, frequented by the discontented working-men; and
that no milk-and-water weakness on the part of the executive can
ever blot them out. Great things like that, are caught up, and
stored up, in these times, and are not forgotten, Mr. Hood. The
public at large (especially those who wish for peace and
conciliation) are universally obliged to him. If it is reserved for
any man to set the Thames on fire, it is reserved for him; and
indeed I am told he very nearly did it, once.

But even he won't save the constitution, sir: it is mauled beyond
the power of preservation. Do you know in what foul weather it will