The Government had a wretchedly bad case to defend in Parliament; a case, too, which had been damaged by the introduction of that element which had told with such fatal effect against the Chartists and Smith O'Brien's Confederates--the element of ridicule. For the grasping Jew Pacifico had specified in his bill against the Greek Government various possessions strangely out of keeping with what had always been his modest household. Among the articles alleged to have been destroyed by fire were a bedstead, valued at £150, sheets for the same at £30, and a pillow-case at £10. Ministers already beaten in the Upper House stood in a critical position in the Lower. But Lord Palmerston rose to the occasion, and exhibited eloquence which hitherto he had not been suspected of possessing. He spoke with great vigour for nearly five hours, and wound up with a peroration which, spoken by a man of other mould than "Old Pam," might have savoured of claptrap, and read in cold blood at this day, seems to rise no higher than what Americans call "spread-eagleism." "If," he asked, "a subject of ancient Rome could hold himself free from indignity by saying _Civis Romanus sum_, shall not a British subject also, in whatever land he may be, feel confident that the watchful eye and strong arm of England will protect him against injustice and wrong?" _Civis Romanus_ carried the House and the country with the speaker: Palmerston's appeal saved the Government. [Sidenote: Lord Palmerston's Rise.] [Sidenote: Sir Robert Peel's Death.]