litical views and object of the proposer; and these we discover, not by
what he says, but by the principles he lays down. "I mean," says he, "a
moderate and temperate reform;" that is, "I mean to do as little good as
possible. If the Constitution be what you represent it, and there be no
danger in the change, you do wrong not to make the reform commensurate to
the abuse." Fine reformer, indeed! generous donor! What is the cause of
this parsimony of the liberty which you dole out to the people? Why all
this limitation in giving blessings and benefits to mankind? You admit
that there is an extreme in liberty, which may be infinitely noxious to
those who are to receive it, and which in the end will leave them no
liberty at all. I think so too; they know it, and they feel it. The
question is, then, What is the standard of that extreme? What that
gentleman, and the associations, or some parts of their phalanxes, think
proper. Then our liberties are in their pleasure; it depends on their
arbitrary will how far I shall be free. I will have none of that
freedom. If, therefore, the standard of moderation be sought for, I will
seek for it. Where? Not in their fancies, nor in my own: I will seek
for it where I know it is to be found--in the Constitution I actually
enjoy. Here it says to an encroaching prerogative--"Your sceptre has its
length; you cannot add a hair to your head, or a gem to your crown, but
what an eternal law has given to it." Here it says to an overweening
peerage--"Your pride finds banks that it cannot overflow;" here to a
tumultuous and giddy people--"There is a bound to the raging of the sea."
Our Constitution is like our island, which uses and restrains its subject
sea; in vain the waves roar. In that Constitution I know, and exultingly
I feel, both that I am free and that I am not free dangerously to myself
or to others. I know that no power on earth, acting as I ought to do,
can touch my life, my liberty, or my property. I have that inward and
dignified consciousness of my own security and independence, which
constitutes, and is the only thing which does constitute, the proud and
comfortable sentiment of freedom in the human breast. I know, too, and I
bless God for my safe mediocrity; I know that if I possessed all the
talents of the gentlemen on the side of the House I sit, and on the
other, I cannot, by royal favour, or by popular delusion, or by
oligarchical cabal, elevate myself above a