HEADS OF
Mr. FRANCIS'S
SPEECH, IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS, ON THE 7TH OF MAY, 1793, ON MR. GREY's MOTION FOR A REFORM IN PARLIAMENT.
LONDON: Printed for J. DEBRETT, opposite Burlington House, Piccadilly. 1793.
HEADS OF Mr. FRANCIS's SPEECH, ON THE 7TH OF MAY, 1793.
MR. FRANCIS said, Mr. Speaker, I cannot but congratulate the friends of Parliamentary Reform, and the country in general, on the auspicious opening of this debate. The three gentlemen, who have spoken first this day, Members of Parliament as respectable in point of character and situation as any who sit here, and totally unconnected with any of the parties, by whom the present motion is supported, have declared themselves strongly, though generally, friends to the measure. I receive the declarations they have so honourably made, as a pledge of their principles, and an omen of success. The two first of these gentlemen have doubts about the time. They think we ought to wait for a more favourable opportunity, when they shall be ready to concur with us. Undoubtedly it is for
them
to judge at what period they will act. I wish them only to recollect that, when this measure was introduced last year we were at peace with all the world, and the country was allowed to be in flourishing circumstances. The question put to us then was, why are you not satisfied with the advantages you enjoy? Why should you wish to change or improve when all is well, and when apparently the people are contented? That argument will not do now; but the enemies of reform have another in readiness to serve their present turn. They have clothes for all seasons. Since last year, the state of the kingdom is completely reversed. We are involved in a foreign war, and this war is attended already with uncommon domestic calamities.
Is this a time to think of changes in the Constitution?
for so they are pleased to call every measure that proposes to correct abuses, by reverting to principles.
Is this a time to disturb or agitate the minds of the people, or to weaken the hands of Government?
These gross contradictions ought to defeat one another. It is not fair to suffer such hostile and inconsistent arguments to act in concert, as they do, against one and the same measure. With respect to times and seasons, I shall only say that, to minds, unwilling to do right, all times are equally inconvenient and improper. To him, who dislikes the voyage, all the winds of Heaven are equally unpropitious. He looks for nothing but pretences to avoid it. The honourable and worthy representative of Yorkshire
Mr. Duncombe.
has declared himself frankly, and without qualification or reserve. He says he is a friend to a Reform of Parliament now and at all times, because it is now as necessary and as safe as it can be at any other period. But, if the war be an immediate objection to the attempt, he trusts that objection will not last long, that it will not be permitted to subsist any longer to the ruin of the country. He considers the war, as I do, as in itself a mischief enormous. But, when the authors of it, not contented with the calamities inseparable from war, make it a pretence for objecting to the only measure that can restore and preserve the Constitution, the only one that can prevent such ruinous wars in future, then indeed it is time to remove this pernicious obstacle one of our way, and put an end to this treacherous objection. The honourable Baronet, who spoke last, assures us that our ideas of correcting abuses are visionary and impracticable; that they are inconsistent with that corrupted state of manners and morals, which riches and luxury have introduced into the nation, that the country is too great a merchant to be honest, that we are too commercial for our virtues, and this he says in the House of Commons of Great Britain, in the presence of the representatives of the first commercial nation in the world; and this he says, while his own personal independence stands on the possession of a fortune derived from the very sources of industry and commerce. [
Here Mr. Francis was called to order by Sir William Young.
] I do assure the honourable Baronet, I had no thoughts of giving him offence. I shall therefore content myself with observing generally, what I am convinced is true, that commerce in itself, and conducted on its true principles, as it has been in this country, excepting always one spurious and dishonourable branch of it, has no tendency to corrupt or degrade the character of the people who are engaged in it; but that, on the contrary, by making them apply their faculties to active occupations, it keeps them out of vice, and that in proportion as commerce expands her operations, their real tendency is to enlarge, to enlighten, and to improve the mind. But, if the fact were otherwise, what conclusion would he draw from it? Would he have us abandon the resources of our trade? Would he risk the loss or diminution of those revenues, which alone can support the present war, in order to mend our morals? It may possibly be true, as he says, that we are too commercial for our virtues; but I am afraid that our present situation calls for every contribution, with which commerce can supply us, and that neither the virtues nor the resources of the landed interest will be sufficient to enable us to encounter the expences, the debts, and the distresses, which the present pernicious war is likely to bring along with it. But these incidental reflections have carried me too far from the question before us. It is time I should return to the purpose, for which I rose.
Sir, I voted against the adjournment last night, for other reasons, but principally because I was desirous of adverting to some passages in a very ingenious speech made by a right honourable friend of mine
Mr. Windham.
, while they were fresh in my memory. However, as this is a continued debate, I believe I shall be strictly in order, in referring to what he said, as far as my memory will serve me. I know myself and him too well, to think of entering into a competition of any kind with my right honourable friend. Between him and me, a hostile contest, I am sure, can never happen. My intention is, not to provoke an unfriendly difference, but to solicit an amicable discussion, such as those with which he his often favoured me, on other subj
cts, and in happier times. If I should appear to question his judgement, to combat his opinions, or, in this single instance, and on this occasion only, to undervalue his eloquence, no man, I trust, will suspect me of the folly of pretending to an equality with him. The rank and qualifications of men should be measured by their pretensions. To imagination or eloquence, I have none. But I will not descend so low as to profess that I have no judgement, no judicial faculty whatever to examine or pronounce upon the genius and eloquence of others. It would be a poor affectation to stultify myself for the sake of a comparison in favour of any man.
I cannot follow my right honourable friend in the endless excursions of his rapid imagination. Sometimes he soars so high into the regions of the air, that it would require the eye and the wing of an eagle to pursue him. Then down he drops, with equal rapidity, from Heaven to earth, to the depths of the sea, and to the waters under the earth. I cannot fly, nor swim, nor dive as he does. But if, for a moment, he will condescend to restrain the praeternatural activity of his mind, or reserve it for occasions, in which fancy ought properly to predominate over reason,—if he will descend from these altitudes, and meet us on plain level ground, for the purpose of discussing a plain terrestrial question, not of abstract speculation, not of theories untried, but of practical prudence; then, Sir, he shall find me as ready to be guided by his wisdom, as ever I have been to listen to his eloquence. On this subject, of all others, he is most strictly bound by his duties to satisfy my understanding. On the present occasion, in my judgement, he has not filled up the dimensions of his mind. He has been eloquent and brilliant; but as to the purpose, and business, and duty of the debate, he has totally failed. On this head, I have many complaints to make of him; but he may be sure that I shall never appeal against him to any man but himself. In the first place, then, I accuse my right honourable friend, in his own Court, of bad taste in the composition of some of his late speeches, particularly the last. Let the occasion, the subject, the argument, be what it may, he has but one way of treating it. War and peace, the repair of a turnpike, the better government of nations, the direction of a canal, and the security of the constitution, are all alike in his contemplation. The French revolution is an answer to every thing; the French revolution is his everlasting theme, the universal remedy, the grand specific, the never-failing panacea, the perpetual burden of his song; and with this he treats us from day to day; a cold, flat, insipid hash of the same dish, perpetually served up to us in different shapes, till at last, with all his cookery, the taste revolts, the palate sickens at it. Has he no choice of topics? Has he lost the fertility of his mind? Are the resources of his imagination dried up or exhausted? Has he no way of opposing a reform of corruptions and abuses in our own system, but by telling us incessantly what mischiefs have been done by madmen in another country, acting in circumstances totally different from ours! Has he no other way to convince and satisfy sober Englishmen, debating on a great and serious interest of their own, but by warning them against the folly and wickedness of the French! Let me intreat my right honourable friend, if his wit and wisdom be fairly worn out in the service, to console us at least with a little variety. I know he is a privileged Person; I know with what favour he is heard at present. Yet, after all, it is not generous in him to persecute, as he does, so patient an audience. But these are trifles. I have a heavier charge against my right honourable friend, of which he himself shall be the judge; for the confidence I repose in his honour and in his virtue is unbounded. I accuse him of suppression of evidence in the very statement of his own favourite argument, of palpable partiality and injustice to us, to the French, and to himself. The eminence of his mind ought to give him a commanding view of every part of every subject, to which he applies it. If the French revolution be his theme, I expect it from his personal honour, I demand it from his justice, that he will bring the whole of the question impartially before us. I cannot suffer him to confine the comprehensive powers of his superior understanding to narrow imperfect views of so great a subject of meditation and instruction. I deny that there is any fair, any rational conclusion to be drawn from the circumstances of the French revolution to the situation of this country. The people of England neither want the warning nor the lesson. But let him state it so, if he pleases. Give us the example, but give it to us entire. Is it fair, is it honest, is it truly instructive, to insist upon the mischiefs, which the French revolution has produced, and to keep out of our sight the original enormous mischief, which produced the revolution? What use, what benefit, what lesson, am I to derive from a bare knowledge of the effect, if the cause of that effect be carefully concealed from me? Let him bring the case completely before us, and then I shall leave him at liberty to load whatever part of it he may think the most odious in the instance, or most dangerous in the example. He cannot paint to me the horrible crimes and calamities with which the French revolution has been attended, without carrying back my mind to the source and origin of those evils—to that infernal despotism, under whose rod a mild and generous people have been perverted into a nation of savages. Such was the school, the master, and the education. What scholars did he expect from it? If he states the premises fairly, and argues regularly from them, I care not to what length he carries the deduction; his conclusion must be mine. The fruit has been bitter indeed, and blasted be the tree that produced it! These are the grand comprehensive lessons, which I expected from the genius and wisdom of my right honourable friend. In me, it is no flattery, no compliment to acknowledge the intellectual superiority of his mind. He knows how little I value these advantages in themselves. The abilities of eminent men are their weapons, not their merits: let us see what use they make of them.—How has it happened, how was it possible, that of all the important reflections, suggested by the events which have happened in France, the only one really applicable to the instruction of those whom it concerns in this country, should have escaped him! I mean to state it in the form of a supposition only, and leave the inference to be drawn and applied by every man to his own use.
We have seen the consequence in France of driving a submissive people to the violent application of extreme remedies to extreme disorders. Let me ask my right honourable friend, or any man, who knows what the internal state of France was for a few years before the late convulsions, whether if, at any earlier period, suppose for example at the acccession of Louis the Sixteenth, there had been wisdom and virtue enough in the constituted powers and orders of the kingdom, in the Ministers of the executive power, in the nobility, in the clergy, in the Parliaments, to have granted some reasonable, though moderate relief to the people, to have corrected some of the most intolerable abuses in the Government, to have surrendered some part of their own invidious, oppressive, and very often useless privileges with a good grace—whether, in that case, he does not think it probable that the ruin, which their obstinate adherence to the established system has brought on themselves, and on their country, would have been prevented? For myself I can affirm, that it is not possible for the human mind to feel, on such a subject, a conviction more decided and complete than I do, that, if the prudent concessions I allude to, had been made in time, the monarchy of France at this hour would have stood untouched, and that the heirarchy, the nobility, and the law, instead of being crushed and demolished as they have been, would have remained in their places unmoved, with no material diminution either of profit or splendor, and certainly with greater security than ever. They yielded at last, but at last it was too late. Upon
us,
I hope, the example of their conduct and its consequences will not be thrown away.
I have impeached the taste and justice of my right honourable friend. But I have another appeal to make to his personal spirit, which I know to be as high as belongs to any man. Let me intreat him to consider, whether it be consistent with his character, to exhibit so much courage, where there is so little provocation or occasion for it. On the crimes committed in France it is an easy matter to enlarge: but to what purpose? Who is there in this House to be convinced or converted on that subject? He may flourish his sword in perfect safety on this ground, as all men may do who have nobody to contend with. Certainly he will meet with no opposition, but on the contrary, the most hearty concurrence in me and every person with whom I have the honour of acting in this place. With all his imagination I defy him to conceive, with all his eloquence I defy him to express, a deeper sensation of disgust and detestation, than all of us have felt at the abominable scenes which have lately been exhibited at Paris.
My right honourable friend must now permit me to lay another instance of injustice to his charge,—extraordinary indeed in its nature, though not very important in its effect; and this shall be the last.—The House have heard him, with every pleasure that belongs to astonishment, while he ranged over the whole circuit of human science, and glided through every region of the moral as well as the intellectual world; through ethics, mechanics, pneumatics, hydraulics, geography, mathematics, astronomy, and logic; through all the polite arts, of swimming, flying, burning, skaiting, diving; the learning of his library, and the meditations of his closet. On one subject alone he has studiously maintained a most delicate reserve. The unfortunate motion on your table, as far as I am able to recollect, has never been blest with a single moment of his attention. On the actual subject of the debate, you may find him every where but at home. One would have thought, Sir, that the power or invention could have added nothing to the curiosity of this proceeding. Other men, perhaps, with industry and resolution, might have stated the premises, and applied them to the question as accurately as he has done. But it was reserved for the genius of my honourable friend to discover a connection between those premises, and the conclusion he has drawn from them. After giving the House a specimen of his skill in every department of abstract science, of the depth of his theories and the extent of his speculations, without bestowing a single glance on the simple question, whether we shall or shall not appoint a Committee to consider the petition, my honourable friend turns short upon us, and says,
Look you, gentlemen, I am a plain practical man. I take things as they are. My opinions are founded on experience. It is you, philosophers, you theorists, you metaphysicians, who have done all the mischief, and would do much more, if you were not counteracted by simple, solid, experimental understandings, such as mine!
—I believe, Sir, I may venture to say, that a more noble instance, than this, of bold and vigorous incongruity, a more intrepid
disparate,
as I think the Spaniards call it, is not to be found in modern or ancient eloquence.
In the course of this debate some remarks have been made on the petition on your table, and some invidious inquiries about the persons who have signed it. Allow me to answer them by stating the fact. Undoubtedly, Sir, if they, who have prepared this petition, had thought that the authority of numbers would be useful to strengthen the remonstrances it contains, or to inforce the prayer of it, they might easily have contrived to get it signed by many thousands. But, if they had done so, what would have been the consequence? We should immediately have been told, and I think with reason,
You have brought us a long, laboured, intricate representation, signed by multitudes, who could not possibly have read it, or known what they were signing.
Foreseeing this reflection, we have taken a wiser course. The petition is signed by a few: but by no man, who has not read it, who does not understand the contents, and is not convinced of the truth of it. The quality of the petitioners too, I presume, will be thought to entitle them to attention. It is not that I regard these factitious distinctions myself; but they, who do, may be assured that the majority of the petitioners I know, and all of them, I believe, are gentlemen who, in point of rank and fortune, are on a level with the generality of this House, and that, if I had not been precluded by my situation in Parliament, I should have been proud of signing it myself, and even have claimed it as the post of honour to have taken my station among the foremost in the list. I have no earthly personal interest in the success of the measure. On the contrary, the agitation of this question has been to me the source of infinite personal uneasiness; of coldness, distance, and separation in private life, where once the warmest friendship and affection have subsisted; but my heart and mind go with the measure, and, while there is hope, I never shall abandon it.
An honourable gentleman
Mr. Jenkinson.
, I think, observed last night, that, in fact, there was no occasion for so general a remedy as that which the petition aimed at. He did not deny that corruption existed in the election of the House of Commons; but in part, he defended the practice as a thing tolerable in itself, and for the rest, he assured us, that the worst part of the abuses in question were gradually decreasing; that, as the instances occurred, they would be successively corrected, and that, let the evil be what it would, this was the best way of removing it. That honourable gentleman will pardon me, if, with longer experience and observation of the subject, I differ from him about the fact. I affirm, with certain knowledge, that corruption has been for many years, and is in a state of progression; that is, from the Revolution to this hour. How it stands now, I need not attempt to explain; for I am in the company of those, who understand the subject as well as I do. But I beg leave to state to the honourable gentleman what the situation of parliamentary bribery and corruption was in this country about twenty years ago. The instance is curious and the authority unquestionable. I take it from a letter written by the late Earl of Chesterfield to his son, never intended to be made public, and unconnected with party views of any kind, even those of the time he lived in.
Extract of a letter from the Earl of Chesterfield to his son, dated December the
19
th,
1767.
"Since that I have heard no more of it, which made me look out for some venal borough; and I spoke to a borough jobber, and offered five-and-twenty hundred pounds for a secure seat in Parliament; but he laughed at my offer, and said that there was no such thing as a borough to be had now; for the rich East and West Indians had secured them all, at the rate of three thousand pounds at least; but many at four thousand; and two or three that he knew, at five thousand."
Perhaps it will be said, the times are mended. Sir, for myself I can only protest, that I have some reason to think otherwise. So far from any fall having taken place in the price of boroughs, I believe it never was higher than it has been lately, and that the most unfair advantages have been taken by dealers and chapmen, of customers in particular situations.—I have heard of a worthy gentleman who, after having made his bargain for five thousand pounds, without being known to the other party, was charged six thousand as soon as his name was discovered, and merely because the proprietor of the commodity would not take less from an honest gentleman, who had existed in the East Indies. You will allow, Sir, that the worthy person I allude to was hardly treated in that affair.—I give you this instance, out of many, as a proof of the actual state of the abuse. You see, by Lord Chesterfield's letter, how the case stood twenty years ago. Do you seriously believe that the purity of borough mongers, and the morals of the electors of Great Britain, are mended since that time? that the commodity is not so scarce, or the demand for it not so considerable as it has been heretofore? On that point, I can give you nothing but my own opinion and conviction, and I shall give it to you now, in the solemn adopted language of Parliament,
that corruption has increased, is increasing, and ought to be diminished.
THE END.