“Conservatism, both in the States and in Great Britain, when rightly understood, has a fixed principle of action, which is to conserve the constitution of the country, and not subvert it. Now, liberalism everywhere is distinguished by having no principle. In England it longs for office, and sacrifices everything to it. It does nothing but pander. It says religion is a matter of taste, leave it to itself and it will take care of itself; now that maxim was forced on us by necessity, for at the Revolution we scarcely had an Episcopal church, it was so small as hardly to deserve the name. But in England it is an unconstitutional, irrational, and monstrous maxim. Still it suits the views of Romanists (although they hold no such doctrine themselves), for it is likely to hand over the church revenues in Ireland to them. It also suits Dissenters, for it will relieve them of church rates; and it meets the wishes of the republican party, because they know no church and no bishop will soon lead to no monarch. Again, it says, enlarge the franchise, so as to give an increase of voters; that doctrine suits all those sections also, for it weakens both monarchy and aristocracy. Then again, it advocates free-trade, for that weakens the landed interest, and knocks from under nobility one of its best pillars. To lower the influence of the church pleases all political Come-outers, some for one, and some for another reason. Their views are not identical, but it is for their interest to unite. One advocates it because it destroys Protestantism as a principle of the constitution, another because the materials of this fortress, like those of Louisburg, may be useful for erecting others, and among them conventicles.
“Then there is no truth in liberalism. When Irish emancipation was discussed, it was said, Pass that and you will hear no more grievances, it will tend to consolidate the church and pacify the people. It was no sooner granted, than ten bishopricks were suppressed, and monster meetings paraded through and terrified the land. One cardinal came in place of ten Protestant prelates, and so on. So liberalism said Pass the Reform Bill, and all England will be satisfied; well, though it has not worked well for the kingdom, it has done wonders for the radical party, and now another and more extensive one is promised. The British Lion has been fed with living raw meat, and now roars for more victims. It ain’t easy to onseat liberals, I tell you, for they know how to pander. If you promise power to those who have none, you must have the masses with you. I could point you out some fellows that are sure to win the dead1 heads, the dough2 boys, the numerous body that is on the fence,3 and political come-outers.4 There is at this time a postponed Reform Bill. The proposer actually cried when it was deferred to another session. It nearly broke his heart. He couldn’t bear that the public should have it to say, ‘They had seen the elephant.’”
1 Dead heads may perhaps be best explained by substituting the words “the unproductive class of operatives,” such as spend their time in ale-houses; demagogues, the men who, with free tickets, travel in steam-boats, frequent theatres, tavern-keepers, &c.
2 Pliable politicians, men who are accessible to personal influences or considerations.
3 A man is said to be on a fence who is ready to join the strongest party because he who sits on a fence is in a position to jump down, with equal facility, on either side of it.
4 “Political come-outers” are the loose fish of all parties. Dissenters from their own side.—See Bartlett’s definitions.
“Seeing the elephant,” said the doctor, “was he so large a man as that?”
“Lord bless you,” sais I, “no, he is a man that thinks he pulls the wires, like one of Punch’s small figures, but the wires pull him and set him in motion. It is a cant term we have, and signifies ‘going out for wool and coming back shorn.’ Yes, he actually shed tears, like a cook peelin’ onions. He reminded me of a poor fellow at Slickville, who had a family of twelve small children. His wife took a day, and died one fine morning, leaving another youngster to complete the baker’s dozen, and next week that dear little innocent died too. He took on dreadfully about it. He boo-hooed right out, which is more than the politicioner did over his chloroformed bill.
“‘Why,’ sais I, ‘Jeddediah, you ought to be more of a man than to take on that way. With no means to support your family of poor helpless little children, with no wife to look after them, and no airthly way to pay a woman to dry-nurse and starve the unfortunate baby, it’s a mercy it did die, and was taken out of this wicked world.’
“‘I know it and feel it, Mr Sam,’ said he, lookin’ up in a way that nobody but him could look, ‘but—’