Life of Lord Byron, Vol. 6: With His Letters and JournalsMoore, Thomas
General
Life of Lord Byron, Vol. 6: With His Letters and Journals
Moore, Thomas
Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron, 1788-1824; Poets, English -- 19th century -- Biography
And now, my Lords, before I sit down, will his Majesty's ministers
permit me to say a few words, not on their merits, for that would be
superfluous, but on the degree of estimation in which they are held
by the people of these realms? The esteem in which they are held has
been boasted of in a triumphant tone on a late occasion within these
walls, and a comparison instituted between their conduct and that of
noble lords on this side of the House.
What portion of popularity may have fallen to the share of my noble
friends (if such I may presume to call them), I shall not pretend to
ascertain; but that of his Majesty's ministers it were vain to deny.
It is, to be sure, a little like the wind, "no one knows whence it
cometh or whither it goeth," but they feel it, they enjoy it, they
boast of it. Indeed, modest and unostentatious as they are, to what
part of the kingdom, even the most remote, can they flee to avoid the
triumph which pursues them? If they plunge into the midland counties,
there will they be greeted by the manufacturers, with spurned
petitions in their hands, and those halters round their necks
recently voted in their behalf, imploring blessings on the heads of
those who so simply, yet ingeniously, contrived to remove them from
their miseries in this to a better world. If they journey on to
Scotland, from Glasgow to Johnny Groats, every where will they
receive similar marks of approbation. If they take a trip from
Portpatrick to Donaghadee, there will they rush at once into the
embraces of four Catholic millions, to whom their vote of this night
is about to endear them for ever. When they return to the metropolis,
if they can pass under Temple Bar without unpleasant sensations at
the sight of the greedy niches over that ominous gateway, they cannot
escape the acclamations of the livery, and the more tremulous, but
not less sincere, applause, the blessings, "not loud but deep," of
bankrupt merchants and doubting stock-holders. If they look to the
army, what wreaths, not of laurel, but of nightshade, are preparing
for the heroes of Walcheren. It is true, there are few living
deponents left to testify to their merits on that occasion; but a
"cloud of witnesses" are gone above from that gallant army which they
so generously and piously despatched, to recruit the "noble army of
martyrs."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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