a House of Commons which has nothing to fear from a dissolution,
is something in the government. Some persons, I well know,
indulge a hope that the rejection of the bill will at once
restore the domination of that party which fled from power last
November, leaving everything abroad and everything at home in
confusion; leaving the European system, which it had built up at
a vast cost of blood and treasure, falling to pieces in every
direction; leaving the dynasties which it had restored, hastening
into exile; leaving the nations which it had joined together,
breaking away from each other; leaving the fundholders in dismay;
leaving the peasantry in insurrection; leaving the most fertile
counties lighted up with the fires of incendiaries; leaving the
capital in such a state, that a royal procession could not pass
safely through it. Dark and terrible, beyond any season within
my remembrance of political affairs, was the day of their flight.
Far darker and far more terrible will be the day of their return.
They will return in opposition to the whole British nation,
united as it was never before united on any internal question;
united as firmly as when the Armada was sailing up the Channel;
united as firmly as when Bonaparte pitched his camp on the cliffs
of Boulogne. They will return pledged to defend evils which the
people are resolved to destroy. They will return to a situation
in which they can stand only by crushing and trampling down
public opinion, and from which, if they fall, they may, in their
fall, drag down with them the whole frame of society. Against
such evils, should such evils appear to threaten the country, it
will be our privilege and our duty to warn our gracious and
beloved Sovereign. It will be our privilege and our duty to
convey the wishes of a loyal people to the throne of a patriot
king. At such a crisis the proper place for the House of Commons