THE BRITISH JACOBINS

The much better way doubtless will be, in this wavering condition of our affairs, to defer the changing or circumscribing of our Senate more than may be done with ease till the Commonwealth be thoroughly settled in peace and safety.—Milton, A Free Commonwealth.

But cease, ye fleecing Senators
Your country to undo,
Or know, we British sans-culottes
Hereafter may fleece you.
Thelwall, A Shearing Song.

The outbreak of hostilities often tends to embitter the strife of parties. Those who oppose war find abundant cause for criticism in the conduct of Ministers, who in their turn perforce adopt measures alien to the traditions of Westminster. A system founded on compromise cannot suddenly take on the ways of a military State; and efforts in this direction generally produce more friction than activity. At such times John Bull, flurried and angry, short-sighted but opinionated, bewildered but dogged as ever, is a sight to move the gods to laughter and his counsellors to despair.

The events of the session of 1793 illustrate my meaning. In view of the notorious sympathy of the Radical Clubs with France, Pitt proposed a Bill against Traitorous Correspondence with the enemy. Both he and Burke proved that the measure, far from being an insidious attack on the liberties of the subject, merely aimed at enforcing "the police of war." Nevertheless, it passed only by a majority of one—a warning to the Ministry not to proceed further in that doubtful course (9th April 1793). Pitt had the full support of the House in opposing Grey's motion for Parliamentary Reform, which was thrown out by 282 votes to 41. The war spirit also appeared in a sharp rebuff given to Wilberforce and the Abolitionists on 14th May. The institution of a Board of Agriculture (which Hussey, Sheridan, and Fox opposed as a piece of jobbery) and the renewal of the Charter of the East India Company were the chief practical results of that session. But the barrenness of the session, the passing of the Traitorous Correspondence Bill, and the hardships connected with the balloting for the militia stirred the Radical Clubs to redoubled energy; so that home affairs for two or three years centred in their propaganda and in Pitt's repressive efforts. The development of a keen political consciousness in the masses is a subject of so much interest that I may be pardoned for dwelling on it somewhat fully, with the aid of new materials drawn from the Home Office Archives.

There we see the causes of unrest. Hunger, hatred of the militia laws, chafing against restraints entailed by the war, all conduce to discontent. The newly awakened Caliban is also a prey to suspicion. He hates foreigners. Yet, either as refugees or prisoners, they swarm along the south coast (there were for a time 5,000 prisoners in Winchester). Fishermen are tempted to help in their escape, and a mariner of Emsworth is arraigned for treason on this count. Even so far west as Bodmin the prisoners are numerous and threatening. They convince many of the townsfolk that England would be better off as a Republic; and two patriotic ladies in fear and horror inform Lord Mount Edgcumbe anonymously that Frenchmen cut a mark round the neck of King George on all coins. The vicar of Ringmer, near Lewes, reports that the smugglers of the Sussex coast carry on a regular intercourse with France. In the Isle of Wight even the French royalists, who are there awaiting the despatch of Lord Moira's long-deferred expedition to Brittany, figure as murderous Jacobins. In Bath, too, the mayor, Mr. Harington, is troubled by the influx of Gallic artists and dancing-masters, especially as they mix in all the "routs," and dare even there to whisper treason against King George. Another report comes that a French usher in a large school near London—was it Harrow?—has converted several of the boys to republicanism. Clearly, these are cases for the Aliens Act.

Even Britons, untainted by Gallic connections, are suspect. At Billingsgate a soldier swears that he was set upon at night because he wore the uniform of "a d——d tyrant"; and other evidence proves that the service was unpopular for political reasons as well as the poor pay. Farmers are plied by emissaries of the clubs as they come in to market. Complaints come to Dundas that farmers and shippers on the coasts of Lancashire and Cumberland sell corn to "the natural enemy."

The discontent takes colour from its surroundings. At Pocklington in Yorkshire the villagers threaten to burn the magistrates in their houses in revenge for the conviction of poachers. The rowdies of Olney in Bucks. (formerly a sore trial to Cowper and John Newton) terrorize the neighbourhood. Everywhere the high price of corn produces irritation. The tinworkers of North Cornwall march in force to Padstow to prevent the exportation of corn from that little harbour; otherwise they are law-abiding, though a magistrate warns Dundas that local malcontents are setting them against the Government. Multiply these typical cases a thousand fold, and it will be seen that the old rural system is strained to breaking point. The amenities of the rule of the squires are now paid back, and that, too, at a time when England needs one mind, one heart, one soul. At and near Sheffield serious riots break out owing to the enclosures of common-fields and wastes, the houses of the agricultural "reformers" being burnt or wrecked. On the whole, however, I have found fewer references to enclosures than might be expected.[274]

As generally happens in times of excitement, the towns are the first to voice the dumb or muttering hatreds of the villages. Parisians led the Revolution in France, though its causes lay thickest and deepest in the rural districts. Not until Paris "stormed" its castle did the villagers attack theirs. So, too, in the muffled repetition of the revolutionary music which England sounds forth, the towns buzz, while the country supplies but a dull ground-tone. Dearness of food and scarcity of work were the chief causes of discontent. The spokesmen for the Spitalfields weavers, who number 14,000, sent up a temperate petition setting forth their distress; but, as is often the case in London, their thoughts turned not to politics, but to practical means of cure. They stated that the trade in velvets, brocades, and rich silks would be absolutely ruined unless steps were taken to revive the fashion in these fabrics. In Liverpool there were far other grievances. There, as in all seaports, the tyranny of the press-gang was sharply resented; and, early in November 1793, the populace clamoured for the election of a "liberty-loving mayor," Mr. Tarleton, who promised to keep the press-gang out of the town.[275]

In general the malcontents urged their case most pointedly in towns and villages, where branches of the Radical Societies had taken root. These Societies or clubs continued to grow in number and influence through the year 1793, the typical club being now concerned, not with faro, but with the "Rights of Man." Some of the Reform Clubs sought to moderate the Gallicizing zeal of the extreme wing. Thus, the "Friends of the People," whose subscription of two and a half guineas was some guarantee for moderation, formally expressed their disapproval of Paine's works and all Republican agencies—a futile declaration; for his "Rights of Man" was the very life-blood of the new clubs. Working men had shown little or no interest in the earlier motions for Reform. The Associations of the years 1780–5 had lapsed; and it was clearly the joint influence of the French Revolution and Paine's productions which led to the remarkable awakening of the year 1792.

Besides the London Corresponding Society, started (as we saw in ChapterIII) by Thomas Hardy early in that year, there was another formidable organization, the Society for Constitutional Information, founded in London at the close of 1791. It, too, was concerned with much more than the Reform of Parliament; for on 18th May 1792 it recommended the publication in a cheap form of Paine's "Rights of Man"; and on 21st November it appointed a Committee for Foreign Correspondence. A little later were adopted some of the phrases used in the French Convention, and St. AndrÉ, Roland, and BarÈre were admitted to membership. It does not appear that either this Society, or Hardy's, corresponded with France after the declaration of war; for the Parliamentary Committee of Secrecy, charged in 1794 to report on seditious proceedings would, if it were possible, have fastened on so compromising an act. Its members belonged to a higher class than those of Hardy's Society; for they included Romney the painter, Holcroft the dramatist, Horne Tooke, the humorous littÉrateur, and Thelwall, the ablest lecturer of the day.[276] That these men had advanced far beyond the standpoint of the Whiggish "Friends of the People," appears from a letter from one of the Norwich Radical Clubs to the London Corresponding Society:

These Societies seem to have put forth no definite programme. Their defenders claimed that they adhered to the Westminster programme of 1780, championed by Fox and the Duke of Richmond. But Fox strongly disapproved of their aims, and even refused to present their petition for annual parliaments and universal suffrage.[278] In truth, the actions of these bodies belied their words. They largely devoted their funds and their energies to the circulation in a cheap form of the works of Paine, 200,000 copies being sold in 1793,[279] and still more in the following year. The Societies also adopted methods of organization similar to those of the French Jacobins Club, and advocated the assembly of a representative Convention. Every sixteen members of the London Corresponding Society could form a division; and the divisions, by the process of swarming-off, rapidly extended the organization. They also sent delegates who conferred on matters of importance, either locally or at headquarters; and the head delegation finally claimed to represent very large numbers in London and affiliated centres. In the conduct of details Spartan self-restraint was everywhere manifest. Members were urged to be brief in their remarks and business-like in their methods. Officials must give a solemn promise not to skulk, or make off, owing to persecution; and members were warned that noisy declamation was not a proof of zeal but might be a cloak for treachery. Above the chairman's seat was suspended a card with the words—"Beware of Orators." One would like to have witnessed the proceedings of these dully earnest men.

Both in the provinces and in London, reformers of the old type sought to curb the more dangerous of these developments, especially correspondence with the Jacobins' Club at Paris. Thus, the Manchester Constitutional Society having published its address of congratulation to that body, together with the reply of Carras, a member, George Lloyd, entered a formal protest in these terms: "We are not a Republican Society; but from such connection and correspondence we shall involve ourselves in the imputation of Republicanism." He added that their aim was solely the Reform of Parliament, and with that foreigners had no concern whatever.[280] Nevertheless the Society kept up its foreign correspondence, and received addresses from Jacobin Clubs in France.

Another threatening symptom was the attempt to excite discontent among the soldiery. There being then very few barracks, the men were quartered on the public houses; and several petitions were sent to Whitehall by publicans (sometimes even by Corporations), pointing out the many inconveniences of this custom. Thus in the autumn of 1793 the publicans of Winchester complained that they had had to lodge as many as 5,000 men during their passage through that city, besides the Bucks. regiment stationed there, and they begged that barracks might be built. The authorities paid the more heed to these petitions because local malcontents "got at" the soldiery in the taverns, and brought home to them their grievances, namely, poor pay, insufficient allowance for food at its enhanced prices, and the severities of discipline exercised by "effeminate puppies" drawn from aristocratic circles. In particular they circulated a pamphlet—"The Soldiers' Friend: or Considerations on the late pretended Augmentation of the Subsistence of the Private Soldiers"—pointing out the close connection between the officers and "the ruling faction," which "ever must exist while we suffer ourselves to be governed by a faction."

When the war with France unexpectedly lengthened out, the Ministry decided to erect new barracks, accommodating 34,000 men, at a total expense of about £1,400,000. In the debate of 8th April 1796, Fox and General Smith savagely assailed this proceeding as fatal to English liberty. "Good God!" exclaimed Smith, "is every town to be made a citadel and every village converted into a garrison?" Windham had little difficulty in showing that the old barracks were in general badly situated, and not adapted for cavalry. Buildings for the use of 5,400 horsemen were now erected; and on the whole question he asserted that the men would live more cheaply, and would contract less vicious habits than when lodged in inns. Above all, they would be removed from the sedition-mongers, who now plied them with doctrines destructive alike of loyalty and military discipline. Windham then quoted a phrase from MoliÈre's "MÉdecin malgrÉ lui": "If I cannot make him dumb, I will make you deaf."[281] The inference was that the inability of the Cabinet to silence malcontents involved the expenditure of £1,400,000 partly in order to stop the ears of the soldiery.

Lord Bacon, in his pregnant aphorisms upon sedition, does not venture on a definition of that indefinable term. Where, indeed, shall one draw the line between justifiable discontent and the inciting of men to lawless and violent acts? We shall notice presently the claim of a Scottish judge that an agitator may have good and upright intentions, and yet, if his words and acts lead to general discontent, he is guilty of sedition and perhaps of high treason. At the other extreme of thought stands the born malcontent. He is generally an idealist, having a keen sense of the miseries of mankind and very imperfect notions as to the difficulty of peacefully and permanently ending them. In times of political excitement the statesman has to deal with large bands of zealots nerved by these irreconcilable principles. It was the misfortune of Pitt that he sought to hold together a nation rent asunder by the doctrines of Burke and Paine. Compromise was out of the question; and yet a British statesman cannot govern unless the majority of the people is ready for compromise. His position becomes untenable if, while upholding the throne, he infuriates all friends of progress; if, when he seeks to remove abuses, he is dubbed a traitor to King, Church, and Constitution. And yet, to abandon his post because of these difficulties is not only cowardly, but also an act of disloyalty alike to King and people.

As the political thermometer rose towards fever point through the years 1792–3, Government kept closer watch upon the political Societies; but for a long time Pitt took no action against them. It seems probable that, if they had confined themselves to their professed programme (that of the Westminster Reformers of 1780) he would have remained passive. He did not prosecute those which in November 1792 congratulated the French Convention on the triumph of its arms in Belgium and the advent of a Gallic millennium. What, then, were the developments which met with his stern opposition?

But, firstly, we must ask the question, Why did not Pitt, in view of the unswerving loyalty of the great majority of Britons, rely on the good sense and weight of that mass to overbear the Jacobinical minority? It is much to be regretted that he did not take that more intelligent and more courageous course. But the events of the French Revolution seemed to show the need of early taking decided measures against a resolute and desperate group. At half a dozen crises in the years 1789–92 firm action would have crushed the anarchic forces in Paris, Lyons, and Marseilles; but, for lack of a strong guiding hand, those forces broke loose, with results which all genuine friends of liberty have ever since deplored. It is perfectly certain that, if Mirabeau had had a free hand, he would have used coercive measures by the side of which those of Pitt's so-called "Reign of Terror" would have been but as a pop-gun to a cannon. Besides, to taunt Pitt with falseness to his principles of the years 1782–5 is to ignore the patent facts that he advocated very moderate changes in the representation. The Reform movement virtually collapsed in 1785. That which now borrowed its watchwords was in the main a Republican and levelling agency. The creed of the Radicals of 1793 was summed up, not in the academic programme of the Friends of the People, the lineal heir to the earlier Associations, but in PartII of Paine's "Rights of Man."

Here, surely, are the reasons for Pitt's repressive policy. He entered on it regretfully, but he felt no sense of inconsistency in his change of attitude towards Reform. The times had wholly changed; and that movement changed with them. As Macaulay has well pointed out, Pitt never declared that, under no circumstances, would he favour a moderate Reform of Parliament. But he did declare that in his view Reform was at present highly perilous; and he resolutely set himself to the task of coercing those men and those agencies who advocated it in dangerous forms and by lawless methods.

The first prosecution that need be noticed here was directed against Paine for the seditious utterances in the "Rights of Man," particularly in PartII. The Attorney-General made out a formidable indictment, whereupon Paine, then a member of the French National Convention, informed him that the prosecution might as well be directed against the man in the moon, and that the liberties of the people of England were in reality on their trial. After this impertinence the sentence went against Paine by default, and that, too, despite a skilful speech by Erskine (December 1792). The aim of Government of course was to warn those who were circulating Paine's works that their conduct was seditious and that they did so at their peril.

The Home Office Archives show that in very many cases the warning was disregarded, and several prosecutions ensued, with varying results. Still more frequent were the cases of cursing the King, sometimes in obscene terms. To these we need pay no heed. Frequently the offence was committed in taverns by democrats in a state of mental exaltation. To this exciting cause we may probably ascribe the folly of John Frost, the attorney with whom Pitt had some dealings during the Reform agitation of 1782. He was now charged with exclaiming excitedly: "I am for equality"; and, when challenged as to the meaning of his words, he added: "There ought to be no Kings." In this connection it should be remembered that Frost and Barlow had on 28th November 1792 presented to the French National Convention the most mischievous of all the addresses sent by Radical Clubs to that body. It ended with the statement that other nations would soon imitate France (that is by overthrowing the monarchy) and would "arm themselves for the purpose of claiming the Rights of Man."[282] This piece of bravado must have told against Frost at the trial; for it proved that amidst his potations at the tavern he spoke his real mind. Erskine did his best to defend Frost by quoting Pitt's letters to him of May 1782, on the subject of Reform.[283] The device was clever; but obviously Pitt's association with Frost for strictly constitutional purposes in 1782 could not excuse the seditious language of the latter under wholly different conditions eleven years later. Frost was condemned to six months' imprisonment in Newgate and was struck off the roll of attorneys.[284] Other noteworthy trials ensued, notably that of the "Morning Chronicle" newspaper, which ended in an acquittal; but it will be well now to turn to the important developments taking place north of the Tweed.

Scotland had now thrown off the trance under which she had lain since 1745; and her chief towns bade fair to outbid London, Leeds, Sheffield, and Norwich as centres of democratic activity. There was every reason why she should awake. She had very little influence in Parliament. She returned 45 members as against Cornwall's 44; while the total number of persons entitled to vote for the fifteen representatives of the Scottish burghs was 1,303,[285] a number smaller than that of the electors of the city of Westminster. This singular system was defended chiefly on the ground of the turbulence of the national character. Even in 1831 a Scottish member declared that Scots could never assemble without drawing blood; and one of their champions, Lord Cockburn, made the quaint admission: "The Scots are bad mobbers. They are too serious at it. They never joke, and they throw stones." It did not occur to that generation that the cure for this bloodthirsty seriousness was frequent public meetings, not no meetings at all. That a high-spirited people should so long have remained in political childhood seems incredible, until we remember that a borough election like that of Westminster was absolutely unknown in the whole course of Scottish history. Further, it was notorious that the 45 Scottish members were the most obedient group of placemen in the House of Commons; and their docility had increased under the bountiful sway of Henry Dundas, whose control of patronage sufficed to keep the Caledonian squad close to heel.

This political apathy was now to end. The men of Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Dundee began to discuss the "Rights of Man," and to follow the lead given by the London Corresponding Society. Thus, on 3rd October 1792, Lieutenant-Colonel William Dalrymple presided over the first meeting of "The Associated Friends of the Constitution and of the People," held at Glasgow. Resolutions were passed in favour of an equal representation of the people in Parliament, shorter Parliaments, and co-operation with "the Friends of the People" in London. The entrance and annual subscriptions were fixed at sixpence and one shilling. Thomas Muir of Huntershill, an able young advocate, was appointed Vice-President. Other Societies were soon formed, and on 11th December there assembled at Edinburgh a General Convention of Delegates from the Societies of the Friends of the People throughout Scotland. Its proceedings were orderly, beginning and ending with prayer. Resolutions were passed deprecating violence whether in language or action; and the presence either of Lord Daer or Colonel Dalrymple in the chair showed that some, at least, of the gentry were for Reform. This was exceptional. A little later the gentlemen of several towns and counties asserted their loyalty in flamboyant petitions; and the farmers of Dalkeith district at their meeting added to their loyal toasts the following: "May we have no fox in our fold or greys (wild oats) in our corn."[286] Sir Kenneth Mackenzie on 3rd January 1793 informed William Pulteney that in the North the towns were thoroughly loyal, with the exception of Perth and Dundee, where certain ministers and writers led the people astray.[287]

Nevertheless, the authorities, notably the Lord Advocate, Robert Dundas, took alarm; and on 2nd January 1793 Thomas Muir was brought before the deputy-sheriff of Midlothian. Muir was a man of highly interesting personality. The son of a Glasgow tradesman, he had shown marked abilities at school and at the University, whence, owing to his advanced opinions, he was forced to migrate to Edinburgh. There, in his twenty-seventh year, he soon became a leader of the Scottish Reformers, his sincerity, eloquence, and enthusiasm everywhere arousing keen interest. Had his good sense been equal to his abilities, he might have gone far; but events soon showed him to be tactless and headstrong. He went far beyond the rest of the delegates assembled at Edinburgh, namely, in bringing forward, despite the reluctance of the Convention, an Address from the Society of United Irishmen in Dublin. Their conduct much alarmed the authorities at Dublin Castle, who adopted stringent precautions. Muir should therefore have seen, what his colleagues did see, that any plan of co-operation was certain to irritate Government. Nevertheless he persisted in bringing before the Convention the Irish Address, which strongly pointed out the need of common action in the struggle for Reform and urged both peoples to persevere "until we have planted the flag of freedom on the summit, and are at once victorious and secure." Further, the authorities accused Muir of circulating Paine's writings and other pamphlets, including "A Dialogue between the Governors and the Governed," which contained such sentences as these: "The law is the general will—a new order." "Nations cannot revolt; tyrants are the only rebels." "We will live without tyrants, without impostors (priests)."[288] The writings were probably seditious in their tendency;[289] but the evidence that he circulated them was of the flimsiest character.[290]

Unfortunately, Muir left the country, though in no clandestine manner, while legal proceedings were pending. After a short stay in London he proceeded to Paris, in order (as he said at his trial) to try to persuade the French democrats to spare the life of LouisXVI. The credibility of this statement is lessened by the fact that he arrived in Paris only the evening before the King's execution and remained there long after that tragedy.[291] A letter from a Scot in Paris, James Smith, to a friend in Glasgow, which the postal authorities opened, stated that the writer met Muir in a cafÉ of the Palais Royal; that Muir did not hear of his indictment till the evening of 8th February, and would return to face his trial, though he was loth to leave France, as he had made "valuable and dear connections." "Mr. Christie advised me," adds the writer, "to make some little proficiency in the language before I begin to think of beginning to do anything."[292] Now, as a clique of Britons in Paris had not long before drunk the toast of "The coming Convention of Great Britain and Ireland," Government naturally connected the efforts of Muir with this republican propaganda. His next doings increased this suspicion. He left France on an American ship which landed him at Belfast; he stayed there a few days, and landed at Stranraer on 31st July, only to be arrested, along with his books and papers, and sent to Edinburgh.

The ensuing trial, held on 30th and 31st August, aroused intense interest, owing to the eloquence of Muir and the unscrupulous zeal of the Scottish authorities in ensuring his conviction. They packed the jury with men who belonged to a loyal Association; and it is said that the Lord Justice Clerk, McQueen of Braxfield, welcomed one of them with the words: "Come awa', Maister Horner, come awa', and help us to hang ane of thae daamed scoondrels." The trial itself bristled with irregularities; and Muir, who rejected the proffered help of Erskine and conducted his own defence, fastened on them so effectively, that at the conclusion of his final speech the Court resounded with applause. All was in vain. The jury found him guilty, whereupon the Court of Justiciary pronounced sentence of transportation for fourteen years.[293]

Admiration of the virtues and courage of Muir must not blind us to the fact that his conduct had been most provocative. His visit to Paris, on the scarcely credible pretext that he went thither to save the King's life, his connection with the United Irishmen, and his stay in Belfast, told against him. Robert Dundas, in informing his uncle, Henry Dundas, of his arrest, added: "I have little doubt that, tho' he avows his intention of coming home to have been a view to stand trial, [that] he is an emissary from France or the disaffected in Ireland."[294] The Scot who first advocated common action with the Irish malcontents should have paid good heed to his steps. Muir did not do so. Accordingly, though the direct evidence at the trial told in his favour, the circumstantial evidence weighed heavily against him.[295] At such a time men's actions count for more than their words. It was the visit to Paris and the dealings with the United Irishmen, far more than biassed witnesses and the bullying of Braxfield, which led to the condemnation of this talented youth. For his arrest occurred at the time when terror was the order of the day at Paris, and when the issue of an inflammatory address at Dundee spread panic in official circles.

Before adverting to this matter, we may note that Muir settled down by no means unhappily at Sydney, and bought a farm which he named Huntershill, after his birthplace. It is now a suburb of Sydney. A letter from the infant settlement, published in the "Gentleman's Magazine" of March 1797, describes him and the other Scottish "martyrs"—Skirving, Margarot, and Gerrald—as treated indulgently by the authorities, who allotted to them convicts to till their lands. Shortly afterwards Muir escaped, and, after exciting experiences, in which he was wounded, made his way to France. In Paris, early in 1798, he published some articles on the United Irishmen, which Wolfe Tone and other Irish patriots deemed most harmful to their cause. They therefore remonstrated with him, but received the reply that he knew Ireland as well as they did, and had the confidence of the United Irishmen as much as they had. Wolfe Tone says of him: "Of all the vain obstinate blockheads that ever I met I never saw his equal."[296] Fortunately for his associates, Muir retired into the provinces and died in the year 1799.

Dundee played a leading part in the democratic agitation. Its population, consisting largely of poor weavers, suffered severely in the year 1793 from dearness of food and scarcity of fuel. On this mass of needy operatives the doctrines of Paine fell like a spark on tinder. Dundee became the chief focus of discontent in Scotland. A Tree of Liberty was planted in Belmont Grounds; bread riots were of frequent occurrence; and Dundas was burnt in effigy. In the Home Office Archives is a statement that a local tradesman named Wyllie generously supplied the waistcoat and breeches: "they was of satin."[297] In July 1793 there appeared an "Address to the People," dated "Berean Meeting House, Dundee," which painted the Government in the darkest colours, and contained these assertions: "You are plunged into war by a wicked Ministry and a compliant Parliament, who seem careless and unconcerned for your interest, the end and design of which is almost too horrid to relate, the destruction of a whole people merely because they will be free.... Your treasure is wasting fast: the blood of your brethren is pouring out, and all this to form chains for a free people and eventually to rivet them on yourselves." On 1st August 1793 a Government agent found the MS. from which this placard was printed in the house of a liquor-seller in Edinburgh. It was in the writing of a minister, Palmer: so were two letters referring to it.[298] Robert Dundas therefore sent to have Palmer arrested. In mentioning this fact to Henry Dundas, he added that Palmer was "the most dangerous rebel in Scotland." It transpired in the course of the trial that the address was originally written by a weaver named Mealmaker, and that Palmer re-wrote it, toning down some expressions which he thought too strong. Mealmaker was a witness at the trial, but was not allowed directly to incriminate himself. The authorities preferred to strike at Palmer, a man of parts, educated at Eton and Cambridge, who latterly had officiated as Unitarian Minister at Montrose and Dundee. Doubtless these facts as well as his association with the Scottish Friends of Liberty brought on him a sentence of five years' transportation.[299]

If the authorities hoped to crush the Scottish movement by these severities they were disappointed; for it throve on them. A spy, "J. B.," who regularly supplied Robert Dundas with reports about the Edinburgh club, wrote on 14th September 1793 that the sentence on Palmer had given new life to the Association; for, after a time of decline in the early summer, more than 200 now attended its meetings. On 28th October he stated that nearly all the Scottish clubs had revived. Dunlop, Lord Provost of Glasgow, also declared that discontent made progress every day; that the soldiery were corrupted, and that there was an urgent need of barracks.[300] Indignation also ran high at London. Evan Nepean wrote to Robert Dundas: "There is a devil of a stir here about Muir and Palmer." Braxfield's address to the jury was thus parodied in the "Morning Chronicle" of 4th March 1794:

I am bound by the law, while I sit in this place,
To say in plain terms what I think of this case.
My opinion is this, and you're bound to pursue it,
The defendants are guilty, and I'll make them rue it.

Nevertheless, as another Convention had met at Edinburgh, Robert Dundas wrote to his uncle on 2nd November 1793 strongly deprecating any mitigation of the sentences. It was therefore in vain that the Earl of Lauderdale, Grey, and Sheridan interviewed the Home Secretary and pointed out that the offence of "leasing-making," or verbal sedition, was punishable in Scots law only with banishment, not with forcible detention at the Antipodes.[301] Henry Dundas informed his nephew on 16th November that he would refer the whole question back to the Court of Justiciary, and if it defended the verdict "scientifically" and in full detail, he would "carry the sentence into execution and meet the clamour in Parliament without any kind of dismay."[302] Braxfield and his colleagues defended their conduct in an exhaustive treatise on "leasing-making," which the curious may read in the Home Office Archives.

What was the attitude of Pitt towards these events? Ultimately he was responsible for these unjust and vindictive sentences; and it is a poor excuse to urge that he gave Dundas a free hand in Scottish affairs. Still, it is unquestionable that the initiative lay with the two Dundases. If any Englishman exerted influence on the sentences it was the Lord Chancellor, Loughborough.[303] He treated with contempt the motion of Earl Stanhope on 31st January 1794 for an examination into the case of Muir, when the Earl found himself in the position which he so much coveted—a minority of one. On the cases of Muir and Palmer coming before the Commons (10th March), Pitt upheld the Scottish Court of Justiciary in what was perhaps the worst speech of his whole career. He defended even the careful selection of jurymen hostile to Muir on the curious plea that though they were declared loyalists, yet they might be impartial as jurymen. He further denied that there had been any miscarriage of justice, or that the sentence on the "daring delinquents" needed revision. And these excuses for biassed and vindictive sentences were urged after Fox had uttered a noble and manly plea for justice, not for mercy. Grey bitterly declared that Muir was to be sent for fourteen years to Sydney for the offence of pleading for Reform, which Pitt and the Duke of Richmond advocated twelve years before. They sat in the King's Cabinet: Muir was sent to herd with felons. This taunt flew wide of the mark. Pitt in his motions for Reform had always made it clear that, while desirous of "a moderate and substantial Reform," he utterly repudiated universal suffrage. If those were his views in 1782–5, how could he accept the Radical programme now that it included the absurd demand for annual Parliaments? None the less Pitt was answerable for the action of the Home Minister in referring the sentences back to the judges who inflicted them—a course of conduct at once cowardly and farcical. Pitt's speech also proves him to have known of the irregularities that disgraced the trials. But he, a lawyer, condoned them and applauded the harsh and vindictive sentences. In short, he acted as an alarmist, not as a dispenser of justice.

It is easy for us now to descant on the virtues of moderation. But how many men would have held on an even course when the guillotine worked its fell work in France, when the Goddess of Reason was enthroned in Notre Dame, and when Jacobinism seemed about to sweep over the Continent? Here, as at so many points, France proved to be the worst foe to ordered liberty. Robespierre and HÉbert were the men who assured the doom of Muir and Palmer. A trivial incident will suffice to illustrate the alarm of Englishmen at the assembly of a British Convention. In December 1793 Drane, the mayor of Reading, reported to his neighbour Addington (Speaker of the House of Commons) that the "infamous Tom Paine" and a member of the French Convention had been overheard conversing in French in a public-house. Their talk turned on a proposed visit to the British Convention then sitting in Edinburgh. At once Addington sent for a warrant from the Home Office, while the mayor urged his informant to hunt the miscreants down. The machinery of the law was set in motion. A search was instituted; the warrant came down from Whitehall; and not until the sum of fourteen guineas had gone to the informant for his patriotic exertions did the authorities discover that they had been hoaxed.[304]

The Edinburgh Convention, consisting of delegates of forty-five Reform Societies, seems to have pursued dully decorous methods until 6th November, when citizens Hamilton Rowan and Simon Butler came to represent Ireland; Joseph Gerrald and Maurice Margarot were the delegates from the London Corresponding Society; and Sinclair and York from the Society for Constitutional Information which met at the Crown and Anchor. A Convention of English Societies assembled at London about the same time, and deputed the four delegates to join the Edinburgh body and form a British Convention.[305] Accordingly, on 19th November, it took the title, "British Convention of Delegates of the People, associated to obtain Universal Suffrage and Annual Parliaments." The statement of Margarot, that the London police sought to prevent his journey to Edinburgh, should have been a warning to members to measure their words well. Unfortunately, Margarot, a vain hot-headed fellow, at once began to boast of the importance of the Radical Societies; though fluctuating in number, they were numerous in London; there were thirty of them in Norwich; and in the Sheffield district their members numbered 50,000. "If," he added, "we could get a Convention of England and Scotland called, we might represent six or seven hundred thousand males, which is a majority of all the adults of the Kingdom; and the Ministry would not dare to refuse our rights."[306] Butler then declared that Belfast was in a state of veiled rebellion; Gerrald, the ablest and best educated of the delegates, also scoffed at the old party system, and said, "party is ever a bird of prey, and the people their banquet." On 19th November a delegate from Sheffield, M. C. Brown, moved that the next British Convention should meet near the borders of England and Scotland. Thereupon Gerrald proposed that York should be chosen, despite its ecclesiastical surroundings; for (said he), "as the Saviour of the world was often found in the company of sinners, let us go there for the same gracious purpose, to convert to repentance."[307]

All this was but the prelude to more serious work. On 26th–28th November the Convention declared it to be the duty of citizens to resist any law, similar to that lately passed in Dublin, for preventing the assembly of a Convention in Great Britain; and the delegates resolved to prepare to summon a Convention if the following emergencies should arise—an invasion, the landing of Hanoverian troops, the passing of a Convention Act, or the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act. These defiant resolutions were proposed by Sinclair; and, as he afterwards became a Government informer, they were probably intended to lure the Convention away from its proper business into seditious ways. However that may be, the delegates solemnly assented to these resolutions.

Scotsmen will notice alike with pride and indignation that the delegates of the Societies north of the Tweed adhered to their main purpose, Parliamentary Reform, until, under the lead of the men of London, Sheffield, and Dublin, debates became almost Parisian in vehemence. As reported in the "Edinburgh Gazetteer" of 3rd December, they gave Robert Dundas the wished-for handle of attack. Then and there he decided to disperse the Convention, so he informed Henry Dundas in the following letter of 6th December: "Last Tuesday's '[Edinburgh] Gazetteer,' containing a further account of the proceedings of the Convention appeared to the Solicitor and me so strong that we agreed to take notice of them. The proper warrants were accordingly made, and early yesterday morning put in execution against Margarot, Gerrald, Callender, Skirving, and one or two others, and with such effect that we have secured all their Minutes and papers. Their conduct has excited universal detestation."[308] The expulsion took place quite peaceably. The Lord Provost informed the delegates that it was not their meeting, but their publications, that led him to intervene. The Chairman, Paterson, thereupon "skulked off"; but Brown, the Sheffield delegate, took the chair, and declared that he would not quit it save under compulsion. The Lord Provost and constables then pulled him down; and the meeting was adjourned. Events ran the same course on the morrow, save that the chairman, Gerrald, was allowed to wind up the proceedings with prayer before he was pulled down. Thus ended the first British Convention.

The natural sequel was a trial of the leaders, Sinclair, Margarot, Gerrald, and Skirving. Sinclair turned informer, whereupon his indictment was allowed to lapse. The others were charged with attending the meetings of the Convention which, "under the pretence of procuring a Reform of Parliament, were evidently of a dangerous and destructive tendency," modelled on those of the French Convention and with the like aims in view. The charge was held to be proven, and they were severally sentenced to transportation for fourteen years. The cases aroused keen interest, in part owing to the novel claims put forward by the prosecutor and endorsed by the Judges. The Lord Advocate argued that these men, in claiming to represent a majority of the people, were in reality planning a revolt; and Lord Justice Clerk finally declared that the crime of sedition consisted "in endeavouring to create a dissatisfaction in the country, which nobody can tell where it will end. It will very naturally end in overt rebellion; if it has that tendency, though not in the mind of the parties at the time, yet, if they have been guilty of poisoning the minds of the lieges, I apprehend that that will constitute the crime of sedition to all intents and purposes."[309]

To find a parallel to this monstrous claim, that sedition may be unintentional and may consist in some action which the Government judges by its results, one would have to hark back to the days of Judge Jeffreys, whom indeed McQueen of Braxfield resembled in ferocity, cunning, and effrontery. The insolence of Margarot at the bar to some extent excused the chief judge for the exhibition of the same conduct on the bench. But in the case of Gerrald, an English gentleman of refined character and faultless demeanour, the brutalities of Braxfield aroused universal loathing. In one respect Gerrald committed an imprudence. He appeared in the dock, not in a wig, but displaying a shock of dishevelled hair, a sign of French and republican sympathies which seemed a defiance to the Court. Nevertheless, his speech in his own defence moved to its depths the mind of a young poet who had tramped all the way from Glasgow in the bleak March weather in order to hear the trial. At the end of the speech young Campbell turned to his neighbour, a humble tradesman, and said: "By heavens, Sir, that is a great man"; to which there came the reply: "Yes, Sir, he is not only a great man himself, but he makes every other man feel great who listens to him."

In truth, the Scottish trials were a moral defeat for Pitt and his colleagues. Sympathy with the prisoners and detestation of the judges aroused a general outcry, which became furious when Braxfield declared that he had no idea that his sentence of transportation involved servitude and hard labour.[310] The assertion implies an incredible ignorance in the man who had packed the juries and sought to get his victims hanged. It may be regarded as a cunning and cowardly attempt to shift part of the odium on to the Government. Certainly the prestige of the Cabinet now fell to zero. Ministers were held responsible for Braxfield's wanton vagaries, and were accused of luring English democrats into the meshes of the Scottish law. This last charge is absurd. As we have seen, the London police sought to stop Margarot, Sinclair, and Gerrald from going to Edinburgh. It was their presence and that of the Irishmen which gave to the Convention almost a national character, and placed it in rivalry to Parliament. Their speeches were by far the most provocative. Finally, as the letter quoted above shows, the initiative in arresting the delegates was taken by Robert Dundas and the Scottish Solicitor-General. On 11th December Henry Dundas wrote to his nephew: "You get great credit here [London] for your attack on the Convention."[311]

Far different was the comment of the London Corresponding Society. On 20th January 1794 that body convened a great meeting which passed protests against the war, the expulsion of the British Convention, and the arrest of delegates. It also resolved that the general committee should sit permanently throughout the ensuing session. Further, that if the Government attacked the liberties of the people in the ways described above, the committee should call "a General Convention of the People for taking such measures under their consideration."[312] Equally threatening were the resolutions of the Constitutional Society of London.[313] Pitt resolved to take up the gauntlet flung down by these two powerful Societies. On 24th February 1794 Eaton, a publisher of Newgate Street, was tried for publishing in his periodical pamphlet, "Politics for the People: or Hogs-wash," a little parable with which that witty lecturer, Thelwall, had delighted a debating society. He told how a gamecock, resplendent with ermine-spotted breast, and crown or cockscomb, lorded it greedily over all the fowls of the farmyard.[314] The parallel to GeorgeIII was sufficiently close to agitate the official mind; but the jury gave an open verdict, which implied that the King was not hinted at.

The next prosecution, that of Thomas Walker, of Manchester, and six others broke down in a way highly discreditable to the authorities. Walker's services to the cause of Reform had, as we have seen, been conspicuous alike in energy and moderation, and his enemies in the Church and King Club made great exertions in order to procure a conviction. The archives of the Home Office throw a sinister light on their methods. A magistrate of Manchester, the Rev. John Griffith, informed the Home Secretary that Booth, a man who was imprisoned in June 1793 for seditious practices, made a declaration against Thomas Walker and McCullum, members of the local Constitutional Society. According to Booth, McCullum had said: "Petitioning Parliament be d——d. You may as well petition the devil to reform himself. The only way is for each Society to send a number of delegates to a certain place, and there declare themselves the Representatives of the People and support themselves as such." Thomas Walker had also said that each member must have a musket, for they would soon want them.[315] But it transpired in the trial of Walker, McCullum, and others that Griffith had let Booth see that he wanted to incriminate Walker. He not only offered Booth his pardon for such evidence, but left him alone with Dunn, a malicious perjurer, the falsity of whose charges against Walker was convincingly demonstrated.[316] The case proves how far an unscrupulous magistrate could succeed in getting charges trumped up against an innocent man who opposed him in politics. Doubtless in other cases personal spite, or the desire of a reward, led to the offer of false charges; and the student who peruses the Home Office archives needs to remember the Greek caution, ???s?' ?p?ste??, as much as if he were perusing French Memoirs.

It is therefore with much doubt that one reads the declaration of a Sheffield magistrate, in May 1794, that there was in that town "a most horrid conspiracy against State and Church under the pretence of Reform." A vast number of pikes and spears had been made and "cats" to throw in the road to lame the horses. 2nd July was fixed for the storming of the barracks and town. "It is a mercy the plot is discovered. I am to be all night in the search." More detailed is the deposition of a magistrate of Sheffield, James Wilkinson, that a democrat named Widdison had made several pikes and sold twelve to Gales, a well-known Jacobinical printer. Further, that a witness, William Green, swore that a man named Jackson had employed him and others to make spear-heads; they made twelve dozen or more in two days, and the heads were sent to the lodgings of Hill and Jackson. Wilkinson wrote for instructions how to deal with these men; also for a warrant to arrest Gales. On 20th May Dundas sent down warrants for the arrest of Gales, W. Carnage, H. Yorke (alias Redhead), W. Broomhead, R. Moody, and T. Humphreys; he also issued a warrant against Williams, a gun-engraver, of the Tower, in London.[317]

In Birmingham, as we have seen, the two magistrates, Carles and Spencer, were out and out loyalists; and, as they wrote to Dundas on 23rd May 1794 that there was not enough evidence to warrant a search for arms, we may infer that the Midland capital caused the authorities less concern than rebellious Sheffield. But even at Birmingham, with its traditions of exuberant loyalty, there were grounds for concern. John Brook, the mayor, informed Dundas that there were many malcontents in the neighbourhood, especially at Dudley.

Turning to the East, we find signs that Norwich seethed with discontent. From that city had come the first suggestion of a General Convention of the People. On 5th March 1793 one of the thirty Societies of Norwich wrote up to the London Corresponding Society advocating that step, which Hardy and his colleagues approved "so soon as the great body of the people shall be courageous and virtuous enough to join us in the attempt." I have found no proof that either at Norwich or in London these Societies used illegal methods. The seditious placards posted up at Norwich may have been the work of some fanatic or of an agent provocateur. But it is very doubtful whether the holding of a People's Convention in the manner proposed was not an act of defiance to Parliament, and therefore seditious. Individual members certainly came within the ban of the law. Thus, Dundas received tidings that two members of Hardy's Society, named Stone and Meakins, were circulating seditious writings in Essex. When arrested they had with them one or two military books, copies of the revolutionary song, Ça ira, and similar papers;[318] but this fact does not incriminate the Society at large. In fact, the reports as to the purchase of arms and secret drillings are not very convincing. To take a few instances: information was sent to the Home Office that a man named Kitchen had sixty pikes in his house in George Street, near York Buildings; also that men were drilled secretly at the house of Spence, a seller of seditious pamphlets in the Little Turnstile, Holborn, and at that of Shelmerdine, a small tradesman of Southwark; the arms in the last case were bought from Williams, of the Tower, with a sum of £10 contributed by "a desperate tailor of China Walk, Lambeth."[319] Did patriotism or private spite or greed of money incite these reports? Drawings of pikes and spear-heads also diversified the report of the Secret Committee of the Lords appointed to investigate seditious proceedings, and probably convinced lovers of realism that plots actually existed.

More alarming in reality were the preparations for a General Convention of the People. The authorities knew that plans were actually on foot for sending delegates to form such a body. On 27th March 1794 the London Corresponding Society consulted the sister club on this question; and in due course delegates from the two Societies passed resolutions in favour of the scheme. Hardy thereupon sent a printed letter round to similar bodies, probably early in the month of April 1794. It ran thus:

In order to further the scheme, the London Corresponding Society held a meeting on 14th April at Chalk Farm, when an ardent appeal was read from Hardy to resist the encroachments on liberty recently made by "apostate reformers"—a fling at Pitt. "Are they alone," he asked, "to judge of the fit time for Reform?" The meeting then thanked Earl Stanhope for his manly and successful opposition to the attempt to bring Hanoverian and Hessian troops into England; it also condemned the late rapid advances of despotism and the arming one part of the people against the other. Finally it declared that in cases of necessity the safety of the people was the only law. We may here note that a few Hanoverian and Hessian battalions had been landed in Hampshire, as a temporary measure, previous to their transference to other ships. This occasioned some clamour at Westminster, Grey, Fox, Sheridan and others claiming that the liberties of England were in the direst danger. Pitt refused to accept a Bill of Indemnity for his action, and the House supported him by a great majority.[322]

The other reference at the Chalk Farm meeting was to the proposal to sanction the subscriptions to the Volunteer forces now being raised in various counties.[323] At the outset this noble movement had in view the defence of the constitution no less than of the land; and this doubtless accounts for the fact that Coke, Mingay, and other Norfolk Whigs struggled desperately and successfully to break up a county meeting held at Norwich for this purpose on 12th April, shouting down even so able a speaker as Windham. In general, however, these meetings were an immense success. That at Aylesbury realized £5,851 for a county corps; and one at Epsom, for Surrey, brought in nearly double as much.[324] Most noteworthy of all these meetings was one of 19th April 1794 at Birmingham, where loyal sentiments crystalized in a rhetorical jewel of rare lustre. The "Loyal True Blues" of Birmingham, in view of the threats of the French "to insult the chalky cliffs of Albion and to plant in this island their accursed tree of liberty, more baneful in its effects than the poisonous tree of Java which desolates the country and corrupts the winds of heaven," resolved to quit the field of argument and to take arms as a Military Association. For nothing could be so effective as "the decided and awful plan of the whole Nation rising in a mass of Volunteers, determined to dispute every inch of ground with their daring aggressors and to spill the last drop of their blood in defence of their religion and their laws." They beg Edward Carver to command them; they will choose their uniform, will arrange themselves as grenadiers and light infantry; and, "to preserve the coup d'oeil, the whole corps will be arranged with the strictest attention to the height of the members."[325] Possibly the Royalists of Birmingham may have known of the hint conveyed in Hardy's letter, that the National Convention should assemble in some convenient centre, a phrase which seemed to point to their town, which, indeed, the Chartists chose for that purpose in 1839.

In view of the fervent loyalty manifested on all sides, Ministers might surely have trusted to the majority to control the restless minority. Auckland expressed the general opinion when he said that the country in the proportion of ten to one was sound and loyal.[326] As the majority was armed, while the malcontents had but small stores of pikes, there was little cause for fear, though in the minority were some desperate men. In particular, Richard Davison, a prominent member of the Sheffield Constitutional Society, recommended the clubs of London and Norwich to buy consignments of pikes in order to resist the "newly-armed minions of the bare-faced aristocracy of the present Administration"; and it afterwards appeared that he could sell them at twenty pence each.[327] This letter was sent off on 24th April, 1794, seventeen days after the holding of a mass meeting on Castle Hill, Sheffield, at which the chairman, Henry Yorke (alias Redhead), declared that, when the sun of Reason shone in its fullest meridian, the people would turn out the 558 gentlemen from Westminster. The meeting resolved that, as the people ought to demand universal suffrage as a right, and not petition for it as a favour, they would never again petition the House of Commons on this subject.[328] Contemptuous epithets were now constantly hurled at Parliament. On 2nd May, that genial toper, Horne Tooke, of Wimbledon, declared at a dinner of the Constitutional Society in London that Parliament was a scoundrel sink of corruption, and that the scoundrel Opposition joined the scoundrel Government in order to destroy the rights of Englishmen. In order to add weight to his epithets he called the company to witness to his complete sobriety.[329]

Pitt and his colleagues now decided to strike at the leaders who were planning a British Convention. Of these the most formidable was the Secretary of the London Corresponding Society. Accordingly, early on 12th May, some Bow Street officers made their way into Hardy's shop, No. 9, Piccadilly, arrested him, seized his papers, ransacking the room where Mrs. Hardy was in bed. The shock to her nerves was such as to bring on premature child-birth with fatal results. On the same day a royal message came to Parliament announcing that the efforts of certain Societies to summon a Convention in defiance of Parliament had led him to order the seizure of their books and papers. Those of the Corresponding and Constitutional Societies were brought, sealed up, to the House of Commons on the morrow, whereupon Pitt moved for the appointment of a secret committee to examine them. He himself, Dundas, and nineteen other members soon drew up the Report. When presented on 16th May, it contained a statement of all the threatening symptoms of the time, and so far ignored the legal efforts of those Societies as to form a very alarming diagnosis.[330]

The fears of Ministers were further aroused by the contents of a letter from the Rev. Jeremiah Joyce (tutor of Earl Stanhope's son) to Horne Tooke, which the Post Office had seized. It announced the arrest of citizen Hardy, and ended thus: "Query: is it possible to get ready by Thursday?"[331] Some effort of the imagination was needed to figure the Silenus of the literary world as a plotter against the lives of Ministers. But they now decided to arrest him and the Reverend Jeremiah, as well as Bonney, Richter, and Kyd, also members of the Constitutional Society, besides Camage and one or two other democrats of Sheffield. Davison, the would-be seller of pikes, had fled betimes.

These were the circumstances which induced Pitt to propose the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act (16th May). The Report of the Secret Committee having been read, he proceeded to exaggerate the import of the more threatening parts of the evidence, and to convince the House that these Societies, which had congratulated the French Convention, and still aped its methods, were plotting to set up an authority openly hostile to Parliament. With all the force of his oratory he pictured the state of things that must ensue—"an enormous torrent of insurrection, which would sweep away all the barriers of government, law and religion, and leave our country a naked waste for usurped authority to range in, uncontrolled and unresisted." Despite the warning of Fox that the remedy now proposed was worse than the evil which it sought to avert; despite the pleas of Grey and Sheridan against indecent haste in hurrying on this arbitrary measure, it was forced through every stage in the Commons at that single sitting; finally, at half-past three in the morning, the numbers of the Whig protestors sank to 13, while the Ministerialists still mustered 108 strong.[332]

This collapse of the Opposition was due to a sharp cleavage in its ranks on the vital issues now at stake. As has already appeared, Pitt had consulted the Duke of Portland and his immediate followers on subjects affecting public order. Some of the Old Whigs, notably Windham, served on the Committee of Secrecy; and the evidence there forthcoming led them to propose a general support of Government both in its war policy and the maintenance of order. Those eager Royalists, Burke and Windham, took the lead in proposing an alliance with the Ministry. The question arose whether the Old Whigs should support from outside or actually coalesce with the Ministry, taking their fair share of power. Burke strongly advised the latter course as the only means of assuring continued and strenuous support. This opened a sluice gate of correspondence, resulting in important changes in the Cabinet. I shall refer to this matter later, merely noting here that the Duke of Portland took over from Dundas the Home Office, which was thenceforth limited to British and Irish affairs, Dundas becoming Secretary of State for War, and Windham Secretary at War. The changes were most opportune; for they strengthened the administrative machine and served to build up a national party strong enough to cope with the growing difficulties of the time. Thenceforth there was no danger of the overthrow of the Ministry. Further, the panic pervading all parts of England in May 1794 was soon allayed by the news of Howe's victory, termed "the glorious First of June"; while in July the fall of Robespierre caused a general sense of relief. In view of these events, Pitt would have done well to relax his efforts against the British Jacobins. He held on his way and encountered sharp rebuffs. The trial of Hardy and others in October dragged on to a great length; and, after hearing an enormous mass of evidence (some of which proved the possession of arms by democrats) the jury returned a verdict of Not Guilty. This result, due to the masterly defence by Erskine and Gibbs, aroused a tumult of joy in the vast crowd outside such as London had rarely seen. Hardy afterwards asserted that, in case of a conviction, Government had decided to arrest about 800 more persons.[333] This is mere hearsay; but it has been fastened upon by those who seek to father upon Pitt the design of reviving the days of Strafford and "Thorough." A fortnight previously Watt, once a government informer, was convicted at Edinburgh of a treasonable plot to set the city on fire, sack the banks, and attack the castle. Before he went to execution he confessed his guilt.[334]

This was the only conviction obtained by Government. The trial of Horne Tooke ran a course unfavourable to Ministers, the evidence for the prosecution being flimsy in the extreme. Pitt himself was called to the witness-box, and when closely cross-questioned by Erskine as to his former connection with the Reform cause, admitted that he was present at a meeting at the Duke of Richmond's residence, at which delegates from county Reform Associations were present. The admission exposed him to the charge of inconsistency in the eyes of those who looked only at the surface of things. In reality, those who met at the Duke of Richmond's house had nothing in common with the democratic clubs which proposed to override the will of Parliament by a National Convention. Yet, as the superficial view gains a ready assent, the fame of Pitt now underwent an eclipse. Never again did he hear the whole-hearted acclaim which greeted him in the years 1784–90. The roar of delight which went up at the news of the acquittal of Horne Tooke was a sign of the advent of a new era, in whose aspirations Pitt had no part.

The prosecutions against Bonney, Joyce, Kyd, and Holcroft were now dropped. The charge against Thelwall was pressed home, but resulted in another defeat for Government. Thus, except in the case of Watt, no proof was forthcoming of treasonable designs, though the apprehension of Davison of Sheffield might perhaps have led to discoveries of that nature. In the main, then, Pitt and his colleagues failed to justify the harsh measure of suspending the Habeas Corpus Act; and the failure of the State prosecutions led to a marked increase of the membership and activity of the London Corresponding Society, with results which will appear later.

Nevertheless, Pitt's conduct is far from indefensible with regard to the main point at issue, the meeting of a National Convention. In view of the projects of some of the wilder spirits at London, Sheffield, Norwich, and Edinburgh, it is presumptuous to charge him with causelessly seeking to bring about a "Reign of Terror." He was face to face with developments which might easily have become dangerous; and, with the example of Paris before him, he not unnaturally took what he thought to be the safer course, that of stopping them at the outset. Indeed, we may question whether Fox, had he been in power, would have allowed the assembling of a National Convention, pledged to press upon Parliament measures which he reprobated.

It is when we come to details that Pitt is open to the charge of acting with undue severity. Considering the proved loyalty of the great mass of the people, what need was there to inaugurate a system of arbitrary arrests? After all, England was not France. Here no systematic assault had been made on the institutions in Church and State. The constitution had suffered dilapidation, but it was storm-proof, and the garrison was strongly entrenched. Moreover, the democrats for the most part urged their case without any of the appeals to violence which wrought havoc in France. There the mob delighted to hurry a suspect to la lanterne and to parade heads on pikes. Here the mass meeting at Chalk Farm, or on Castle Hill, Sheffield, ended with loss neither of life nor of property. So far as I have found, not one life was taken by the people in the course of this agitation—a fact which speaks volumes for their religious sense, their self-restraint even amidst deep poverty, and, in general, their obedience to law even when they deemed it oppressive. The hero of the year 1794 is not William Pitt, but the British nation.