REFORM BILL DEBATE
Mr MARSH next came forward, it was received with universal cheering. He spoke to the following effect :— "Several years ago I was acquainted with a little entertaining old man, who lived at Wallingford, of the name of Golding, a surgeon. Now the anecdote which I'm going to tell you of him is a fact, and not made for the occasion. This old gentleman had collected a great number of curiosities together, and had got a sort of miniature Zoological museum; and among other animals had a most beautiful land tortoise. (A laugh.) His own gardener on one occasion fell ill, and he was in consequence obliged to send for a common gardener. The man went to work in the garden, but after a short time ran back to his master, and said 'Oh, measter, measter, I have killed the devil.' His master then ran into the garden, and there he saw his favourite tortoise with its head chopped off by a spade. 'Oh, you murderous wretch,' said he, 'what have you done? If you had murdered one of my children I could have got another; but where—oh, where am I to get such another beautiful tortoise?' (Laughter.) It must be confessed that today Mr Palmer has brought in a long spade, and has made a cut at my tortoise's poll; if he gets it off, I am afraid that I shall never be able to bring you such another fine tortoise again. (Much laughter.) Though I cannot, I repeat, congratulate you on the state of this day's poll, I congratulate you upon this point,—that the new Bill, the great charter of British liberty, is now virtually passed. (Great cheering.) I was at an election last year at Petersfield, which was called a lawyers' election, and in which nearly every voter was sent up before the assessor. When Christianity was first introduced, the magicians of the day brought in their papers, which were accounted worth much silver, and burnt them of their own accord, because a new light had broken in upon the world. Now I compare the learned gentlemen of these days to those magicians. I do not mean to cast any blame upon the lawyers, but as it happened with the papers of the necromancers of old, so I hope it will happen with the papers of these lawyers under the new Bill, and that they will all, valuable as they may have hitherto been to them, be brought together and burned for the public good. It now remains for us to see whether the new charter, which we have just gained, will prove a blessing or a curse to the country. That depends upon you, and I tell you once for all, that in proportion as you exercise the suffrage gained by your right arm and your meritorious exertions, will it be a blessing or a curse upon you. The elective franchise is one of the most important rights that a freeman can possess. It is the only real security that he possesses,—it is that security which enables the man to defend himself from 'the oppressor's wrong, and the proud of man's contumely.' (Great cheering.) If you exercise that right as you ought to exercise it, then it will prove a blessing to you and yours; but if you consider it as something which is given to you for your private benefit, and not for the benefit of your country,—if you make it a convenience to compliment a noble lord, a great squire, or a dignified parson, then I say to you that this bill of reform was uncalled for, and that it will prove a curse to you instead of a blessing. I hope, however, better things of the people of England. All men have their hobbies, and I, gentlemen, have mine. I have written it now for the last 30 years, and it is this—I have always insisted on the right of the middling classes to exercise the elective franchise, unbought, unbiased, and uncontrolled. (Cheers.) Now it remains for you to put this great engine of your strength to a proper use, to exercise it with sound discretion, impartial justice, and undeviating honesty and integrity. It is in your hands now, it was formally in the possession of the boroughmongers; it is now, however, again, I thank God for it, in your own care and keeping. You are now erect, mind you do not slip; you are now freeman, act as becomes the character; do credit to the bill which has made you so, or else you will be considered as the most despicable beings that were ever animated by the breath of life. (Cheers.) I shall now, with your permission, say a little about the church. I recollect here a passage from a favourite author of mine, Hudibras. (Cheers, and laughter.) You will recollect that when the widow treated Hudibras with a mask arrayed of tables, rather an inconvenient masquerade for poor Hudibras, one of the questions which they asked him after they had got him at their mercy was this :—
"What makes a church a den of thieves?"
To which Hudibras immediately replied—
"A dean and chapter and white sleeves."
What articles they stole at that period he was not acquainted with; but if he was not misinformed, there was a certain dean, not living a hundred miles from Oxford, who this morning wanted to steal a vote for this county. On his going to the booth, our inspector, who is a shrewd fellow, seeing him with a shovel hat on, said, 'Oh, what a queer hat you have got! (Loud laughter) I doubt much whether there is a vote under it.' He therefore began to examine into the matter, and then he found that 'it was a no go.' (Much laughter.) It has been said that there is now no further necessity for the political unions. From that opinion I differ. I have no doubt that those who objected to the erection of the building are anxious enough to have the scaffold pulled down. I am, however, for letting the scaffolding stand until I see whether the roof be dry or not. I cannot consent to part so readily with these unions. These unions give us power and strength. You might have petitioned the boroughmongers to all eternity; but as soon as these unions came into existence, the question was—'Shall I?—I will.' (Loud cheering.) He trusted that the unions would be continued some time longer. Oh, glorious unions! (Cheering.) Oh! excellent and enviable Attwood! (Vast applause.) When Tory lords, and Tory 'squires, and Tory parsons shall be dead, rotten, and forgotten (much cheering), your memory shall be embalmed in the heart of every true patriot, and children yet unborn shall lisp your praise." (Loud and long-continued cheering.)