once raise up a great, rich, enlightened nation, against its
ancient institutions? Could such small drops have produced an
overflowing, if the vessel had not already been filled to the
very brim? These explanations are incredible, and if they were
credible, would be anything but consolatory. If it were really
true that the English people had taken a sudden aversion to a
representative system which they had always loved and admired,
because a single division in Parliament had gone against their
wishes, or because, in a foreign country, in circumstances
bearing not the faintest analogy to those in which we are placed,
a change of dynasty had happened, what hope could we have for
such a nation of madmen? How could we expect that the present
form of government, or any form of government, would be durable
amongst them?

Sir, the public feeling concerning Reform is of no such recent
origin, and springs from no such frivolous causes. Its first
faint commencement may be traced far, very far, back in our
history. During seventy years that feeling has had a great
influence on the public mind. Through the first thirty years of
the reign of George the Third, it was gradually increasing. The
great leaders of the two parties in the State were favourable to
Reform. Plans of reform were supported by large and most
respectable minorities in the House of Commons. The French
Revolution, filling the higher and middle classes with an extreme
dread of change, and the war calling away the public attention
from internal to external politics, threw the question back; but
the people never lost sight of it. Peace came, and they were at
leisure to think of domestic improvements. Distress came, and
they suspected, as was natural, that their distress was the