“Before the spirit and temper of those who met at the conference is condemned as extravagant,” writes Mr. Perceval in 1842,[43] “let the reader call to mind what was then actually the condition as well as the prospect of the Church and nation:  an agrarian and civic insurrection against the bishops and clergy, and all who desired to adhere to the existing institutions of the country; the populace goaded on, openly by the speeches, covertly (as was fully believed at the time) by the paid emissaries of the ministers of the Crown; the chief of those ministers in his place in Parliament bidding the bishops ’set their house in order’; the mob taking him at his word, and burning to the ground the palace of the Bishop of Bristol, with the public buildings of the city, while they shouted the Premier’s name in triumph on the ruins.”  The pressing imminence of the danger is taken for granted by the calmest and most cautious of the party, Mr. Rose, in a letter of February 1833.  “That something is requisite, is certain.  The only thing is, that whatever is done ought to be quickly done, for the danger is immediate, and I should have little fear if I thought that we could stand for ten or fifteen years as we are."[44] In the Apologia Cardinal Newman recalls what was before him in those days.  “The Whigs had come into power; Lord Grey had told the bishops to ’set their house in order,’ and some of the prelates had been insulted and threatened in the streets of London.  The vital question was.  How were we to keep the Church from being Liberalised?  There was so much apathy on the subject in some quarters, such imbecile alarm in others; the true principles of Churchmanship seemed so radically decayed, and there was such distraction in the councils of the clergy.  The Bishop of London of the day, an active and open-hearted man, had been for years engaged in diluting the high orthodoxy of the Church by the introduction of the Evangelical body into places of influence and trust.  He had deeply offended men who agreed with myself by an off-hand saying (as it was reported) to the effect that belief in the apostolical succession had gone out with the Non-jurors. ‘We can count you,’ he said to some of the gravest and most venerated persons of the old school....  I felt affection for my own Church, but not tenderness:  I felt dismay at her prospects, anger and scorn at her do-nothing perplexity.  I thought that if Liberalism once got a footing within her, it was sure of victory in the event.  I saw that Reformation principles were powerless to rescue her.  As to leaving her, the thought never crossed my imagination:  still I ever kept before me that there was something greater than the Established Church, and that that was the Church Catholic and Apostolic, set up from the beginning, of which she was but the local presence and organ.  She was nothing unless she was this.  She must be dealt with strongly or she would be lost.  There was need of a second Reformation.”