fleets, and the revenues of Great Britain, might possibly hold
Ireland by the sword. So Oliver Cromwell held Ireland; so
William the Third held it; so Mr Pitt held it; so the Duke of
Wellington might perhaps have held it. But to govern Great
Britain by the sword! So wild a thought has never, I will
venture to say, occurred to any public man of any party; and, if
any man were frantic enough to make the attempt, he would find,
before three days had expired, that there is no better sword than
that which is fashioned out of a ploughshare. But, if not by the
sword, how is the country to be governed? I understand how the
peace is kept at New York. It is by the assent and support of
the people. I understand also how the peace is kept at Milan.
It is by the bayonets of the Austrian soldiers. But how the
peace is to be kept when you have neither the popular assent nor
the military force, how the peace is to be kept in England by a
Government acting on the principles of the present Opposition, I
do not understand.

There is in truth a great anomaly in the relation between the
English people and their Government. Our institutions are either
too popular or not popular enough. The people have not
sufficient power in making the laws; but they have quite
sufficient power to impede the execution of the laws when made.
The Legislature is almost entirely aristocratical; the machinery
by which the degrees of the Legislature are carried into effect
is almost entirely popular; and, therefore, we constantly see all
the power which ought to execute the law, employed to counteract
the law. Thus, for example, with a criminal code which carries
its rigour to the length of atrocity, we have a criminal
judicature which often carries its lenity to the length of