To the Editor of the Morning Poſt.

DEFENCE.

THE Crime of which I here ſtand ac⯑cuſed I conſider as one of the higheſt which man can commit. It is the crime of medi⯑tating and conſpiring to have recourſe to arms and violence: a crime that has the greateſt tendency to inflame multitudes, de⯑prive them of reaſon, and excite them to all the horrors of war; which is a ſtate the moſt deſtructive and the moſt unnatural to man. I truſt the Court and the Jury, therefore, will afford me a patient and an attentive hear⯑ing, while I endeavour to ſhew the extreme injuſtice that has been done me; that I may be reſtored to ſociety without being deprived of any part of that utility which ſo inti⯑mately depends on a character unimpeach⯑able [2]and a mind actuated by virtuous in⯑tention.

Points of Law have already been moſt ably argued; and, if they had not, my ſtu⯑dies have not qualiſied me to treat of Law in the detail. It is voluminous, complex, and contradictory. Either I miſtake, or, it is the very oppoſite to the ſimple uniformity of Juſtice. And here it is my duty to re⯑mind you, Gentlemen of the Jury, that the very eſſence of your office is to conſider the Juſtice, I ſay, the Juſtice of this and of every caſe that comes before you; and, whenever Law is contrary to Juſtice, ſtudiouſly to pre⯑ſerve your minds untainted by its perplex⯑ities, and unbiaſed by its dogmas. I have much to ſay; but, remembering that not only my life but the lives of all future men to whom this caſe ſhall be brought as a pre⯑cedent are at ſtake, I am perſuaded you will not think the duty of liſtening to my ex⯑culpation too ſevere. Arraigned thus ſo⯑lemnly, my defence againſt a charge of ſo deep a dye muſt be no leſs ſolemn.

It is the nature of accuſation to alarm all [3]ſociety, and render the individual accuſed univerſally ſuſpected. The benevolence he uſed to meet is fled from every face; he is avoided; the ſweets of ſocial intercourſe are denied; his functions are ſuſpended, his uti⯑lity is cut off, and his moral exiſtence, the power of doing good, is always palſied, and often deſtroyed.

The effects of accuſation, at this moment, are ten-fold pernicious. The preſent criſis has produced a degree of acrimony between contending parties, that is pregnant with miſchief: acrimony unexampled perhaps ſince the proſcribing days of Sylla and Cae⯑ſar. How is this deſolating ſpirit to be ap⯑peaſed? Can it be by accuſation, raſhly made, obſtinately continued, and, I will not ſay proſecuted with malignity, but, I muſt ſay proſecuted by all the methods which men have beeen accuſtomed to aſcribe to that odious principle? What is it, at this fearful moment, that prompts and precipi⯑tates men to violence? Violence that per⯑haps may blind them to an approaching maſs of miſery; and, rendering them furious, [4]may plunge them in that frantic and pell-mell deſtruction which we all deprecate, all dread, and all abhor? It is this fatal ſpirit of acrimony: a ſpirit which raſhneſs engen⯑dered, paſſion has envenomed, and mutual obſtinacy renders mutually atrocious.

Gentlemen, theſe are tremendous times! This is a tremendous occaſion! And an un⯑juſt ſentence will be followed by tremendous conſequences! Not on account of perſonal worth; for individuals, taken ſeparately, are but inſects; on each of which Power might ſet its foot, and declare them noxious from the want of leiſure and inclination to ſtudy their uſe. No: it is becauſe ſuch unjuſt de⯑ciſions tend to increaſe that unrelenting ani⯑moſity, that ſavage hatred, which already rages in the public mind.

For my own part, Gentlemen, I will not merely contend that I am innocent, but that I have aimed at being highly virtuous. For this purpoſe, I have two principal points to prove:

1. That I was actuated by peaceful mo⯑tives was the enemy of force; and, conſe⯑quently, [5]did not compaſs or imagine the death of the King, or of any human being. This will prove me guiltleſs of the black charge brought againſt me.

2. That it is the duty of every man, who perceives the miſchiefs reſulting from the preſent ſtate of repreſentation, to endeavour to effect a reform: and you all know. Gen⯑tlemen, that a conſcientious diſcharge of duty is the reſult of ſentiments of virtue.

I know no method that will ſo effectually convince you how ſincerely I am the friend of benevolence, and the enemy of coercion, or force, as by detailing the facts and argu⯑ments by which I have myſelf been con⯑vinced: nor can I by any other means ſo ſatisfactorily prove to you how unequivo⯑cally I am a friend to reform, as by remind⯑ing you of what the preſent ſtate of repre⯑ſentation in this kingdom is, and what are its conſequences. To theſe points then I once more entreat your patient, ſtrict, and conſcientious attention.

I ſhall begin with coercion: and, as I ſhall have frequent occaſion to uſe the term, I re⯑queſt [6]you, Gentlemen, carefully to recollect that, by coercion, I mean that force which obliges a man to act or ſuffer without the conſent, and contrary to the deciſion, of his underſtanding.

No man I imagine will or can approve coercion, unleſs it be intended to prevent crime. We have therefore to enquire, what is crime?

Crime is unjuſt intention carried into ef⯑fect.

It is the nature of crime to begin with in⯑dividuals, but to expand and communicate to the whole. To injure one man is to give an example of injury to all men: violence produces violence; and a firſt vice is followed by a train of vices, the contagion of which quickly infects the whole community.

It is likewiſe the nature of crime to injure him by whom it is committed. It renders him ſuſpected, dreaded, and odious; and he can only be countenanced in proportion as the wicked example he gives is followed: that is, by an increaſe of danger to himſelf and all mankind. If the injury of which he [7]is guilty be returned with exceſs, we are then accuſtomed by compariſon to exone⯑rate him; though in reality his crime is in⯑creaſed a hundred fold: for, while of two or two millions of crimes his may appear to be the leaſt, it is more fatal than any of thoſe of which it is the origin. All the crimes of a deſtructive war originate with him who firſt conceived that war.

Selſiſhneſs is emphatically the characteriſ⯑tic of crime: for the miſtaken man, who does a wrong act with a view to the good of others and without a retroſpect to his own, is certainly acting from virtuous intentions. Suppoſing his action to be baneful, his mind has the attribute of virtue.

Since therefore the ſelfiſh criminal com⯑mits the greateſt injury againſt himſelf, whom he intended to benefit, and the diſintereſted criminal is in like manner acting under miſ⯑take, it follows that all crime is error of the underſtanding.

Crime therefore is ignorance: which is the abſence or want of knowledge. Conſe⯑quently, and this is one of the moſt import⯑ant [8]of truths, knowledge is the ſole means by which crime can be prevented.

If this reaſoning be juſt, it follows that to attempt to prevent crime by coercion is an error of the underſtanding: or, in other words, is itſelf alſo crime.

This may be elucidated by an inquiry in⯑to the nature and conſequences of puniſh⯑ment: which is one of the moſt important branches of coercion.

Puniſhment is the infliction of pain and diſgrace; generally ſpeaking, either by the permiſſion or at the inſtigation of ſociety; ſometimes purpoſing to reform the criminal, and at others not; for criminals are frequent⯑ly put to death; but always with an intent to prevent crime.

That to puniſh a man for being virtuous would be to commit injuſtice needs no proof. Puniſhment therefore can only con⯑cern itſelf with real or ſuppoſed crime.

It has already been proved that all crime is error of the underſtanding: and, that,

Knowledge is the ſole means by which crime can be prevented. By knowledge is [9]here underſtood moral knowledge; or the communication of thoſe facts which teach men to generate happineſs and prevent mi⯑ſery. The more we examine the conſe⯑quences of puniſhment, the more we ſhall be convinced how incapable it is of communi⯑cating this kind of knowledge.

Had puniſhment been an effectual means for preventing crime, as ſoon as puniſh⯑ment had been begun crime muſt have been on the decreaſe.

This effect however is not produced; for men continue, from the introduction of pu⯑niſhment to the preſent hour, to be impri⯑ſoned, pilloried, whipped and hanged.

Fear, falſhood, revenge, and deſperation are the vices which puniſhment produces; and even revenge and deſperation are not ſo deſtructive as fear and falſhood.

Fear confuſes, diſtracts, and debilitates the mind. To prevent crime, we muſt communicate knowledge. Now the thing moſt eſſential for the acquirement of know⯑ledge is that the mind ſhould be clear, and undiſturbed; and, for the practice of the [10]virtues taught by knowledge, that it ſhould poſſeſs fortitude.

With reſpect to the practice of falſhood, it teaches man not only to conceal from others, but from himſelf, his various devia⯑tions from rectitude; and the more ſucceſſ⯑fully he practices this deceit, the more au⯑dacious and enterprizing he becomes. Let us once more appeal to experience for proof.

What are the effects of puniſhment? What but inevitably to create a ſchool for the exerciſe of the arts of falſhood; where the hiſtory of its tranſactions is read with delight, and repeated for the encouragement and inſtruction of every novice? Each tale has its hero; arduous taſks are undertaken; conſequences are foreſeen, and guarded a⯑gainſt; fortitude and preſence of mind, for the perpetration of crime are cheriſhed, and rendered habitual; and plans, connected, daring, and ſucceſsful, are laid, by which their authors, with only a ſmall change of circumſtances, would have gained immor⯑tal fame. Such ſeminaries are our common [11]jails; and ſuch are the heroes they daily produce, and daily deliver up, to men paid and authorized to inflict on them varienties of diſgrace, puniſhment, and death. When a man, from the perverſity of his under⯑ſtanding, has committed his firſt crime, he is immediately ſent to priſon, according to law: that is, Law dooms him to the ſociety of men, whoſe underſtandings are in a ſtill more perverted ſtate than his own. Law, which is emphatically ſtiled the wiſdom of ages, does this! How would common-ſenſe act? Common-ſenſe would inſtantly con⯑ſign the criminal to the ſuperintendence and admonition of the wiſeſt and moſt vir⯑tuous men the nation could boaſt. Men capable of great crimes are, almoſt without exception, men of extraordinary energy and enterprize; and ſuch men, thus bene⯑volently treated and inſtructed, would be⯑come as active and indefatigable, in good, as they had been daring and reſtleſs in evil. The criminal would be transformed to the ſage. Yet even this percicious practice of the law is outdone by the law. A man [12]need not be criminal to be ſent to priſon; he need only be accuſed: and, however in⯑nocent he may enter, he muſt have more than common virtue if he do not come out guilty. Such is coercion: ſuch is puniſh⯑ment.

Puniſhment therefore is inefſicient: it cannot extirpate crime: this can only be effected by the communication of know⯑ledge. Hence,

It is the duty of mankind to inſtruct: but,

It is the practice of mankind to puniſh.

To inſtruct is to increaſe the well being of ſociety.

To puniſh is to increaſe the miſery of ſociety.

But the moſt pernicious conſequence that reſults to ſociety is the following:

Injuſtice is of a nature ſo deſtructive to well being that men cannot endure it, without endeavours to provide againſt it in future. Now, by ſubſtituting a falſe mode of correction, puniſhment, they have loſt ſight of the true mode, knowledge; and thus they have loſt what would have been [13]an inceſſant motive with them to propagate that very thing itſelf, knowledge, by which alone their well being can be ſecured and improved.

The contradictions that ſpring from the ſyſtem of violence are endleſs. In one and the ſame breath, the moraliſt recommends ſincerity and ſecrecy: though no two things can be more incompatible with and deſtruc⯑tive of each other. He claſſes them among the moſt eminent virtues; though one of them cannot but be a pernicious vice, for they are oppoſites in the extreme. Where ſecrecy is ſincerity cannot be: and where ſincerity is ſecrecy can have no exiſtence. Nothing can be more demonſtrable: for, to ſpeak with perfect ſincerity there muſ be no reſerve: but, if only a part of the truth be told, a part muſt be reſerved: therefore to ſpeak only a part of the truth is not to ſpeak with perfect ſincerity.

The virtue of habitual ſincerity is eaſily proved: for, all men are agreed that to pre⯑vent injuſtice is a virtue: now, injuſtice cannot be committed till it be firſt conceived [14]in thought: therefore, to conceal thought is to conceal that by which the means of preventing injuſtice would be moſt effectu⯑ally ſupplied.

How contrary to this is the coercive principle of law; which prohibits, by pains and penalties, the publication of thought! Like an odious and a wicked tyrant, it pu⯑niſhes ſeditious writings; nay, more, ſedi⯑tious words: that is, it impoſes, under pains and penalties, a ſyſtem of lying, or ſup⯑preſſing the genuine ſentiments of our mind; and thus the moſt pernicious of all vices is eſtabliſhed, by law, a part of our education. Thus men, if they have erro⯑neous opinions, are forbidden that which alone can procure a remedy for this worſt of diſeaſes; and thus the venom of falſ⯑hood being forcibly pent up in the mind, lies rankling there; till it burſts forth with ſuch peſtilential virulence as not only to de⯑ſtroy its parent but to infect all ſociety.

The farther we purſue theſe inquiries the more we ſhall be convinced that puniſh⯑ment is the foe of knowledge; is deſtruc⯑tive [15]of liberty; is incompatible with juſ⯑tice; and that it engenders crime, multi⯑plies miſery, and murders intellect and its energies according to low.

Gentlemen, what I have ſaid is but a feeble ſketch of this deſolating principle; which I cannot contemplate without ſhud⯑dering at the miſchief it produces, and feeling how totally inadequate not only my powers but thoſe of any exiſting being are to detail its black and bloody annals. It is by relieving my heart of this oppreſſive load, by attempting to ſhew men how miſe⯑rably they are miſtaken, and by zealous and inceſſant endeavours to perſuade them to benevolence, that I have ſo wounded their prejudices as to have ſubjected myſelf to the foul charge with which I here ſtand disfigured, and at iſſue for life or death. Oh could I but worthily treat the grand ſyſtem of Benevolence for which I con⯑tend, could I but call to your recollection the innumerable facts, with which you are all acquainted, that demonſtrate its power of increaſing the happineſs of man, I ſhould [16]then indeed rejoice at the opportunity now afforded me; and, wholly diſregarding per⯑ſonal danger, ſhould exult in being the or⯑gan of Truth and the benefactor of the human race. Unequal however as I feel myſelf to a ſubject ſo gigantic, I feel with ſtill ſuperior force that it is my duty to ex⯑ecute the taſk to the beſt of my ability. I ſhall endeavour therefore to diſcover what true benevolence is, to trace its conſequen⯑ces, and to demonſtrate their reality.

Benevolence is the very oppoſite of crime: it is juſt intention carried into ef⯑fect.

I am well aware how ſtrenuouſly the advocates for coercion contend that pu⯑niſhment is benevolent; and that puniſh⯑ment itſelf is juſt intention carried in⯑to effect. I truſt I have already proved the falſity of this aſſertion; which, if falſe, is rendered fatal by being ſuppoſed to be true; for, were it not ſo ſuppoſed, it could not be endured. Extending the inquiry a little farther, we are obliged to aſk what is puniſhment, but the infliction of pain? [17]And does any human being, while ſuffer⯑ing pain, contemplate the benevolence of that agent who is exerciſing himſelf in in⯑flicting pain? The ſtroke of the axe, that ſe⯑vers the head from the body, certainly brings no ſuch conviction: as little does the laſh of the whip; or the locks, bolts, and bars, that prevent the emaciated and life-weary pri⯑ſoner from partaking of that air and exer⯑ciſe which would reſtore him to health, freedom, and well being.

The infliction of pain, it is ſaid, induces the patient to recollect and deeply fix in his memory the miſtakes which occaſioned pu⯑niſhment; and, that he may avoid pain, he will carefully avoid miſtake. This is a ſtrange error; for it ſuppoſes that the laſh of the whip actually does communicate knowledge. Otherwiſe, how is a man whipped enabled better to avoid miſtake, in future, than he was before he was whip⯑ped? The Law indeed includes the abſur⯑dity of ſuppoſing that all men are fully in⯑formed of all crimes, their tendency, and extent. If it did not, its tyranny would [18]be hateful even to thoſe who at preſent moſt tenaciouſly aſſert its benignity. To prove the error of this fiction would be loſs of time. So voluminous and complex is law that no learned profeſſor in this court, in this king⯑dom, or that ever exiſted, can remember its contents: ſo perplexed are its precepts that they are for ever varying: and ſo ſelf⯑contradictory are its precedents that they have deſtroyed all certainty; and advo⯑cates the moſt able, judges the moſt up⯑right, and juries the moſt conſcientious, when once entangled in its intricacies, are in continual danger of exoncrating the vi⯑cious, and condemning the guiltleſs. Why is this High Court now ſolemnly aſſembled? Oh miſery to be remembered! This High Court is now ſitting, robed in all its ſolem⯑nities and all its terrors, not to try me and my fellow victims to this ſyſtem of confu⯑ſion according to any definite and already declared principle; but, to make an ex⯑periment on the perplexities which Sta⯑tute Law, Precedent Law, and Conſtruc⯑tive Law ſo amply afford! And on this [19]rotten thread have the lives of twelve men, for days, and weeks, and months, been pending. If this be juſtice, if this be be⯑nevolence, if this be not the moſt violent exerciſe of the fundamentally erroneous ſyſtem of coercion, I muſt then confeſs my⯑ſelf utterly ignorant of that juſtice, that benevolence, which I had propoſed to my⯑ſelf as the grand guides of human action.

Gentlemen, I have already had and ſhall again have occaſion, in the courſe of my defence, to point out abuſes that ſeem ſo incorporated in ſociety that to deſtroy them will perhaps appear to involve the deſtruc⯑tion of ſociety itſelf. Of theſe radical abuſes, coercion is the chief; and law, co⯑ercion, and puniſhment, we find to be all parts of a common ſyſtem. Now, though I hope I have demonſtrated to you that where law, where coercion, where puniſh⯑ment is miſery muſt be; yet, I ſuſpect that, in thought, you have aſked, with terror mingled perhaps with contempt, ‘What! would you throw open the priſon doors, and let looſe a torrent of villains, [20]robbers, and murderers? Is that your be⯑nevolent your wiſe advice?’ I anſwer, No: and for this plain reaſon; becauſe mankind, inſtead of poſſeſſing the energy and virtue neceſſary to adopt ſuch a plan, would deem him a madman by whom it ſhould be propoſed. But I conjure man⯑kind to examine the principle; and, if puniſhment be an evil, to keep this princi⯑ple continually in view, by which they will be prevented from making new laws for the inflicting of new pains and penalties; and will be prompted to repeal the old, as expeditiouſly as the ſtate of public inſtruc⯑tion will render it ſafe. Yes, Gentlemen, I requſt you will remember that this is the whole which the reform here inſiſted on re⯑quires. I requeſt you to keep in mind that, however far the principles may progreſ⯑ſively lead, I inſiſt only on following them, now or at any time, to the limits which the wiſeſt men in the nation ſhall deem to be ſecure. Do not call me a viſionary, or an enthuſiaſt, becauſe I affirm that happi⯑neſs begets happineſs; that a firſt good [21]leads to a ſecond, a ſecond to a third, a third to a fourth, and ſo on everlaſtingly. Examine whether the principles for which I contend be true; and, if they be, follow truth as far as you can diſtinctly perceive it, and clearly comprehend its operations. Do not fear that ſuch a diſpoſition ſhould lead you aſtray.

To proceed: What is the juſt inten⯑tion in which benevolence conſiſts; and how is it carried into effect? The juſt in⯑tention which conſtitutes benevolence is to increaſe the well-being of man; and, in⯑ſtead of inflicting, to relieve him from pain. The mode of effecting this intention is by at⯑tentively inquiring into the nature and cauſe of ſuffering; by alleviating it with every ima⯑ginable remedy; and by that aſſuaging con⯑ſolation which a kind heart and an intelligent mind alone can afford. How effectual is this lenient balm! How eager is the criminal, who by his miſtakes has involved himſelf in ſufferings, to be relieved after this method! How does he revere, how love the hand that adminiſters relief! There is not a man on earth whoſe heart is ſo depraved as not [22]to dilate with pleaſure, under the exertions and influence of enlightened benevolence. It is welcomed by the ſooliſh and the wiſe, the wicked and the good. Nature is only lovely under its auſpices, and man is ne⯑ver ſo conſcious of his capacity for vir⯑tue as when his heart teems with benevo⯑lence.

For my own part, here I ſtand: the dag⯑ger is drawn, the arm uplifted, and the ſtroke aimed at my heart. Is it any want of bene⯑volence to endeavour to arreſt the blow? What matters it to me, whether the aſſaſſin be a real being, or that imaginary murderer the Law? That phantom, under whoſe form a hue and cry is raiſed to hunt me to perdi⯑tion. And what kind of man is it that is dragged to the ſtake, and ſurrounded with the inflammable faggots of Suſpicion, Falſe Alarm, and atrocious Calumny? Is it one who is a friend to the force of arms? A preacher of violence? An inſtigator to civil war? No; it is a man whoſe words and actions have been uniformly and ſtrenuouſly combined to propagate peace: a man who, not with the cant of hired hypocriſy, but [23]from the deep conviction of principle, has been warning men againſt the horrors of that ſpirit of perſecution and hatred in which he ſaw all parties ſo eager to indulge. Yes, from deep rooted long meditated principle, Benevolence has been my ſyſtem. An un⯑deviating unſhaken friend to reform, or I ſhould not now have held my life in jeo⯑pardy; but profoundly convinced that every act of force, or violence, is contrary to re⯑form; contrary to general and individual happineſs; and big with deſtruction to its agents of all parties; the ſtumbling block of all ages, and to remove which it is the duty of all men to exert every faculty of the ſoul.

Should doubts ſtill be entertained of the truth of theſe principles, I have only to re⯑mark that I imagine it cannot be that you, Gentlemen of the Jury, ſhould not perceive at preſent how deeply I, at leaſt, am con⯑vinced of their ſolidity. I will then leave it with your own conſciences how far it is poſſible for a man holding theſe principles, inceſſantly promulgating them as I have done, and in the general tenor of my actions regulating my conduct by them, to compaſs [24]or imagine the death of the king and its con⯑ſequences: an act which I never did nor ever can imagine; which, for the reaſons already given, I hold in utter abomination; and which rather than compaſs myſelf, or connive at in others, if I had a thouſand lives I would ſuffer a thouſand deaths.

The principles I have developed, and the witneſſes whoſe examination you have heard in proof that I have long held and long acted upon theſe principles, cannot I think but be ſufficient to convince you, Gentlemen of the Jury, that not the moſt minute taint of treaſon can attach itſelf to me. But this is not ſufficient. I ſeek to be uſeful to man⯑kind; a large portion of whom will imagine that, though not guilty of treaſon, I have been meddling in matters that do not con⯑cern me. An opinion of this kind has in⯑duced men, who cannot but be wholly unac⯑quainted with my character and conduct, to calumniate me in various ways. The Newſ⯑papers, commonly called miniſterial, have heaped obloquy on me and my writings; which, however great may be my miſtakes or their defects, have conſtantly had the good [25]of mankind for their object. Theſe preju⯑dices have purſued me in public and in pri⯑vate; to the Theatre, to the Council-cham⯑ber, to Priſon, and to Judgment. Yes, Gen⯑tlemen, ſince I have been in priſon, various newſpapers, by various means, have endea⯑voured to excite or keep alive thoſe prejudi⯑ces againſt me which party ſpirit alone could generate. Gentlemen, I ſhould not notice ſuch trifling, ſuch miſtaken and immoral at⯑tempts to traduce me, but that you may perceive how neceſſary it is that a man, in my ſituation, ſhould come forth, after a trial thus ſolemn, unſpotted and fully reſtored to his former utility. Yes, thus awfully called upon, it becomes me to aſſert, and conſequently to prove, that I am ſomething more than innocent; and that I am now, have been, and, if juſtice be done me, again ſhall be, actively virtuous. This inevitably requires me to detail to this court, and to the kingdom, what have been my reaſons for concurring with and aiding thoſe men who have endeavoured to obtain a reform of parliament.

[26] Why are my powers thus feeble? Can it be that the ſingle word Parliament will not excite in you all thoſe ſenſations which have ſo often rent my boſom, at the fore⯑ſight of evils which ſuch a ſyſtem, if not timely, peaceably, and conſcientiouſly puri⯑fied, muſt produce? Gentlemen, by the love of your children, relations, and friends, by the love of your country, by the love of the human race, I conjure you to liſten patiently, attentively, and I again repeat conſcientiouſly, to the momentous truths I am about to ſtate. The trumpet of alarm has been ſounded againſt reformers. Hear what reformers have to ſay in their own defence.

It is a fact, Gentlemen, of public noto⯑riety, that a ſociety called the Friends of the People; a ſociety ſo honoured in its members and ſo reſpectable for its patri⯑otic and peaceful exertions that detraction has ſcarcely ventured to tax its purity; I ſay, it is well known that this ſociety, af⯑ter a laborious ſcrutiny that will for ever be honourably recorded in the annals of [27]this country, drew up and publiſhed a State of the Repreſentation of England and Wales. On this authority they founded a petition, at once firm, decorous, and de⯑ciſive. The petitioners there ſtate, in ex⯑preſs terms, ‘that the number of repreſen⯑tatives aſſigned to the different Counties is groſsly diſproportioned to their com⯑parative extent, population, and trade; that the elective franchiſe is partially and unequally diſtributed; that the right of voting is regulated by no uniform or rational principle; that, by the ancient laws and ſtatutes of this kingdom, fre⯑quent parliaments ought to be held; that from theſe combined defects ariſe thoſe ſcenes of confuſion, litigation, and expence, which ſo diſgrace the name of free repreſentation; that tumults, diſor⯑ders, outrages, and perjury, are the dread⯑ful attendants on conteſted elections; that returning officers exerciſe diſcretion⯑ary powers with the moſt groſs partiali⯑ty, and the moſt ſcandalous corruption; that a diſputed ſeat in parliament has been [28]known to coſt one of the parties no leſs than fifty thouſand pounds; that appeals againſt falſe returns are a freſh ſource of expence, maintained at the average ſum to each party of a hundred pounds per day; that the attornies' bill alone of one appeal, which in point of form laſted on⯑ly two days and in point of fact only ſix hours, amounted to nearly twelve hun⯑dred pounds; that the ſnameful practices which diſgrace election proceedings have ſo loaded the table of the Houſe of Com⯑mons, with petitions for judgment and redreſs, that one half of the ſeven years duration of parliament was ſcarcely ſuf⯑ficient to ſettle who is entitled to ſit for the other half; that the two gentlemen who ſat and voted nearly three years, as the repreſentatives of the Borough of Stockwell, had procured themſelves to be elected by the moſt ſcandalous bribery; that the two gentlemen, who ſat and voted during as long a period for the Borough of Great Grimſtead, had not even been elected.’

[29] Gentlemen, I here cite the language of the petition. But what deſerves your moſt ſerious attention is that theſe firm, theſe patriotic, theſe dignified petitioners did not come with a pompous recapitulation of po⯑pular aſſertions, which ſome deny, others aſſirm, and none had aſcertained; but they came fully provided with facts, for they add to each accuſing clauſe the at once al rming and unanſwerable ſentence— ‘And this your petitioners are ready to prove.’

Gentlemen, this memorable this truth publiſhing petition did not ſtop here; it gave a table of parliamentary patronage, containing a liſt of Seventy-one Peers and Ninety-one Commoners, with their names at length, who by nomination and influ⯑ence return three hundred and two mem⯑bers to the Houſe of Commons!

The total number of members, for Eng⯑land and Wales, are five hundred and thir⯑teen; and the decided majority, indepen⯑dently of the Treaſury members, indepen⯑dently of twenty-eight members who are [30]returned by compromiſe, independently of forty-five additional members nominated by patronage in Scotland, I ſay, theſe ſeventy⯑one peers and ninety-one commoners, amounting together to one hundred and ſixty-two, do themſelves alone return a ma⯑jority of ninety-one. Is there any man who now hears me remind him of theſe noon-day facts, and who is yet an enemy to reform? Can reaſon be ſo blinded? Can truth be ſo powerleſs? Can the love of our country and of the general good be ſo diſ⯑tant from the ſenſe and feeling of my con⯑temporaries?

Do you ſtill doubt, Gentlemen, of the neceſſity of a parliamentary reform?

Why do I aſk what are or what are not your doubts? The Parliament is itſelf both Judge and Party. Yes, ſtrange to tell! Incredible to comprehenſion! When this petition was debated in the Houſe of Com⯑mons, of three hundred and twenty-three members preſent, only forty-one had the virtue to vote in its favour! To whom then can the men who diſcover the miſchiefs [31]that impend appeal, but to the people? to the general underſtanding? Till the tide of public opinion ſhall become irreſiſtible, what probability is there that ſuch a Houſe will reform itſelf?

The petition I have cited was preſented on the 6th of May, 1793; the Friends of the People who preſented it met on the 25th of the ſame month, and in a reſolu⯑tion which they publiſhed with their peti⯑tion there is the following paſſage:

Such, Gentlemen, was the language of theſe honeſt petitioners.

Did the conſcious rectitude of the Houſe ſpurn at this open attack on its purity? Did it endeavour to anſwer charges, that thus proclaimed it corrupt to the very core? Was there any man bold enough to aſſert the petitioners were traitors? Gentlemen, I repeat, the Parliament, that could receive, liſten to, and treat, ſuch a petition in ſuch a manner, is all but incapable of ſelf refor⯑mation. Yet to be aware of this is the firſt ſtep to treaſon; to endeavour to learn whe⯑ther the nation be or be not deſirous that ſuch a parliament ſhould be reformed is more treaſon; to declare, after inquiring, that there is not ſufficient proof, at preſent, that ſuch a deſire does actually exiſt in the na⯑tion is triple treaſon; to reſolve that it were to be wiſhed that the nation ſhould ſo de⯑ſire [33]is treaſon fourfold; and farther to deter⯑mine that, as ſoon as this deſire can by peaceable means be produced, and not ſooner, virtuous individuals will then co⯑operate with the nation, becauſe that then parliament cannot refuſe its attention, is the very climax of treaſon! If this be de⯑nied, why am I here? For a perception of the groſs abuſes I have noticed, and an at⯑tempt at reform by theſe actual gradations, are the ſum and ſummit of my treaſon.

Recollect, Gentlemen, the barefaced pro⯑fligacy with which the traffick for Boroughs is carried on in the open face of day. This traffick is reduced to a ſyſtem; and the traf⯑fickers have long ſince received the appro⯑priate name of Borough Mongers. You cannot be ignorant, Gentlemen, that, at a general election; theſe convenient dealers propoſe their ware wholeſale, to Govern⯑ment, at a leſs price than it would produce if brought into the public market? And why? By this mode they avoid the fatigue of conteſt, ſhun the danger of proſecution for bribery, and, which is an infinitely [34]more hazardous peril, prevent the intro⯑duction of thoſe reſtleſs reformers into par⯑liament, who, were they admitted, would endanger the craft. Great is Diana of the Epheſians!

The language of our ſpotleſs repreſenta⯑tives is as inconſiſtent as their conduct is de⯑praved. At one time, while every man out of the houſe is publicly talking of the ſale of boroughs, no man in the houſe is permitted to hint at the poſſibility of any individual member being capable of ſuch corrupt prac⯑tices; or having entered thoſe ſacred walls by means ſo nefarious. At another, they are themſelves prompted, I will not inquire by what motive, to ſpeak out, and "tell the ſe⯑crets of the priſon-houſe." Too delicate to point at individuals, they attack the whole. Thus, for example, Mr. Pitt has made three efforts in Parliament to introduce a reform. What was his language to our ſpotleſs repre⯑ſentatives themſelves, in the very laſt of theſe attempts? Theſe were his words— ‘To conquer the corruption that exiſted in the decayed boroughs he believed gentlemen [35]would acknowledge to be impoſſible. The temptation were too great for poverty to reſiſt; and the conſequence of this cor⯑ruption was ſo viſible that ſome plan of reform in the boroughs had clearly be⯑come abſolutely neceſſary.’—Again.— ‘Could it not be proved that, in this coun⯑try, eſtates ſo ſituated as to command an influence in a decayed or depopulated bo⯑rough, and to have the power of returning two members to parliament, ſold for more money than they would have done if ſitu⯑ated in any other place? However luxu⯑riant the ſoil might be, however productive its harveſts, unleſs its harveſts could occa⯑ſionally produce a couple of members its intrinſic value was leſs.’—Theſe are Mr. Pitt's words!

Gentlemen, I know not what your feel⯑ings may be, but I own I cannot read a paſ⯑ſage like this, in which corruption that ſtrikes at the very exiſtence of civilized ſociety is treated with the wantonneſs of wit, without ſhuddering through all my frame! And how does this ſenſation riſe into horror, [36]when I further recollect that this Mr. Pitt, the man who thus proclaimed the depravi⯑ties of the houſe to the houſe itſelf and to the whole world, is now the man who is labouring, with the collective maſs of that corrupt power which he once ſo unſparingly expoſed, to dye his hands in the blood of thoſe who dare to imitate his example?

What was the leading propoſition in this laſt plan of Mr. Pitt for reform? It was, in his own preciſe words,— ‘to recommend to the Houſe the eſtabliſhment of a fund, for the purpoſe of purchaſing the franchiſes of ſuch boroughs as would ſell. He knew,’ he ſaid (ſatirically addreſſing him⯑ſelf to our uncontaminated parliament, as if fearful of wounding its conſcientious ſen⯑ſibility) ‘he knew there was a ſort of ſqueamiſh and maiden coyneſs about the houſe, in mentioning this ſubject. They were not very ready to talk, in that houſe, on what at the ſame time it was pretty well underſtood, out of doors, they had no great objection to; namely, to nego⯑tiate the purchaſe and the ſale of ſeats.’

[37] With what countenance can Mr. Pitt, after this, meet the men for whoſe blood he has ſo eagerly ſought? There is but one odious anſwer: he is a Prime Miniſter.

What degree of practice is neceſſary for theſe our ſelf-approving repreſentatives, in the dictatorial tone of aſſumed virtue, to de⯑claim on the purity of their collective body; and, if any man unprotected by their ſacred walls ſhall dare to queſtion the honour of that houſe, tax its integrity, or impeach its proceedings, overwhelm him with all their vengeance?

And how does this integrity exhibit it⯑ſelf? By a public avowal of the flagitious traffick. In the advertiſements for the ſale of eſtates, with what induſtrious art is it inſi⯑nuated, ſo as not to be miſunderſtood, that there is this or that borough-intereſt put up for barter!

The Borough of Gatton, within theſe two years, was publicly advertiſed for ſale by auction. Obſerve, Gentlemen, not ſold for a ſingle parliament; but the fee ſimple of the Borough, with the power of nominating [38]the two Repreſentatives for ever. On the day of ſale, the celebrated auctioneer ſcarcely noticed the value of the eſtate. The rental, the manſion, the views, the woods and wa⯑ters, were unworthy regard, compared to what he called an elegant contingency! Yes, Gentlemen, the right of nominating two members to Parliament, without the em⯑barraſſment of voters, was an elegant contin⯑gency! "Need I tell you, Gentlemen," ſaid he, glancing round the room with in⯑effable ſelf-ſatisfaction, and exulting in what he called ‘the jewel, the unique, which was under his hammer; need I tell you, Gentlemen, that this elegant con⯑tingency is the only infallible ſource of fortune, titles, and honours, in this hap⯑py country? That it leads to the higheſt ſituations in the State? And that, mean⯑dering through the tempting ſinuoſities of ambition, the purchaſer will find the margin ſtrewed with roſes, and his head quickly crowned with thoſe precious gar⯑lands that flouriſh in full vigour round the fountain of honour? On this halcyon-ſea, [39]if any Gentleman who has made his for⯑tune in either of the Indies chuſes once more to embark, he may repoſe in per⯑fect quiet. No hurricanes to dread; no tempeſtuous paſſions to allay; no tor⯑menting claims of inſolent electors to evade; no tinkers' wives to kiſs; no im⯑poſſible promiſes to make; none of the toilſome and not very clean paths of can⯑vaſſing to drudge through: but, his mind at eaſe and his conſcience clear, with this elegant contingency in his pocket, the honours of the ſtate await his pluck⯑ing, and with its emoluments his purſe will overflow.’

Such was the meretricious oratory which, a few months ago, was thought a decent veil, under which Vice might ex⯑hibit her hideous form in all the laſcivious wantonneſs of ambiguity. But we ad⯑vance with haſty ſtrides, and the hypocriſy of decorum is no longer thought neceſ⯑ſary. The flimſy maſk is ſo worn to tat⯑ters that its very owners are aſhamed of the vile diſguiſe, and begin to ſpeak in plain [40]terms—In the Times, Saturday October 18th, was the following paragraph— ‘Coun⯑ſellor Baldwin, Secretary to the Duke of Portland, is to be elected for the Borough of Malton, in the gift of Earl Fitzwil⯑liam —’ Obſerve, Gentlemen, in the gift.

Do you want more proof? You ſhall have it: public avowed proof! given un⯑der the hand of a Peer! In the Saliſbury and Wincheſter Journal, Monday October 6th, may be found the following incredi⯑bly honeſt document.

Gentlemen of the Jury, what ſhall we ſay? Is this England? Do we really ſee the ſun? Does its light ſhine upon us?

Let me however be well underſtood: it is not againſt the Earl of Abingdon that I would inſinuate the moſt diſtant blame. He it is true nominates, obſerve, Gentle⯑men, nominates, the two members for Weſtbury: but his perſuaſion evidently is that this ſyſtem of repreſentation is vir⯑tuous! and, granting this ſtrange ſuppoſi⯑tion, his mode of acting and ſincerity in ſpeaking are what every honeſt heart muſt applaud. No! It is the ſyſtem itſelf, it is the ſtage of audacious corruption, it is the open infamy at which it is arrived, that aſtoniſh and confound!

No man yet has been able to calculate either the political or moral conſequences of this ſyſtem: they are beyond the pow⯑ers of calculation. Of ſuch however as I have at preſent any definite perception I [44]will endeavour to give you a feeble ab⯑ſtract.

And here I muſt requeſt you conſtantly to recollect, that, one hundred and ſixty-two perſons return a decided majority of ninety-one in the repreſentation of England and Wales only. Can you, Gentlemen, can the nation be acquainted with this, and remain ignorant that the real government of the country is in the poſſeſſion of one hundred and ſixty-two perſons? At pre⯑ſent, theſe perſons, or an efficient number of them, are bought by what is called the executive government; but, as their power is abſolute, their price is enormous. To pay this price an enormous eſtabliſhment is inevitable: for theſe hundred and ſixty-two perſons are a ſpecies of petty Princes; who each has his retainers, his train of depen⯑dents, his agents, without whoſe influence and aid his own power would be null; and for all theſe proviſion muſt be made. Of all others the pool of corruption is the moſt prolific: agency begets agency, till the noxious brood infects every office, every [45]department, every ſtation of life. From the peer to the exciſeman, from the prime mi⯑niſter to the pariſh beadle, agents, depen⯑dents, creatures, and the creatures of crea⯑tures are every where ſwarming. The in⯑creaſe of them is inceſſant; and the machine becomes ſo complicated, ſo miſchievous in its action, and ſo hopeleſs of repair, that even thoſe who think themſelves moſt be⯑nefited by its vices glance at it with terror, and are panic-ſtruck at the picture.

Gentlemen, this is a ſtate that is impoſſi⯑ble to be durable. It will ſoon be found that carrion ſufficient for the kennel cannot be procured: and the pack will then devour their keepers; if not prevented by another conſequence, which I am about to ſtate.

One hundred and ſixty-two perſons re⯑turn a decided majority to the Houſe of Commons. Gentlemen, it is the want of organization, only, that prevents theſe hun⯑dred and ſixty-two perſons from openly ſeizing the power of which they poſſeſs the reality: and, ſhould the preſent ſyſtem con⯑tinue, this organization muſt inevitably fol⯑low [46]and theſe perſons who have already ſeized the legiſlative, will as inevitably poſ⯑ſeſs themſelves of the executive govern⯑ment.

Gentlement, if I underſtand the intentions of government at preſent, they are wholly bent on keeping things as they are. But they are attempting an impoſſibility. We know of nothing that is not ſubject to change; and the only alternative we have is to better or worſe. If we dare look at facts, and are not entirely blinded by our prejudices, we ſhall confeſs that the changes with which the preſent ſyſtem is pregnant have a general tendency to the worſe: and it appears to me to require no great depth of political ſagacity to foretell that, if we per⯑ſiſt in rejecting reform, or in other words a change for the better, one of theſe conſe⯑quences muſt follow. Either the hundred and ſixty-two Peers and Commoners, who now poſſeſs the reality of government, will diſcover their collective ſtrength, and orga⯑nize it to the deſtruction of the preſent ſyſtem: or, ſhould thoſe contentions that [47]have hitherto divided them ſtill continue, a degree of corruption and taxation muſt re⯑ſult, that would end in deſpotiſm: or, which is inſinitely the moſt probable, and againſt which I ſincerely believe our preſent miſta⯑ken rulers wiſh to guard, did they but know how, the people will become ſo indig⯑nant, by the evils they will feel, and which are too groſs entirely to eſcape the groſſeſt ig⯑norance, that they will burſt into that wild riot and ſavage fury in which, by ſimilar cauſes, the people of France have ſo lately been plunged.

Gentlemen, I repeat, change there muſt be; for the better, or the worſe. Yet the word innovation is continually bewildering our underſtandings. And what is this phantom, Innovation, with which we have been haunted till our fears have entire⯑ly overwhelmed our diſcernment? Is there any man ſo blind as not to know that inno⯑vation is inevitable? Why do our Statute⯑books annually ſwell with innovation? Judge Blackſtone tells us that theſe books contained, when he wrote, one hundred and ſixty ſtatutes; the penalty [48]of which was death, without benefit of clergy. Judge Blackſtone wrote in the year 1765; and in the indignation of his heart called it a dreadſul liſt; which, inſtead of diminiſhing, increaſed the number of of⯑fenders: yet the undeviating practice of the Houſe of Commons is almoſt annually to multiply the number of penal ſtatutes which inflict this horrid and moſt iniquitous puniſhment of death. Is not this innova⯑tion? What! we may be allowed to hang each other, as frequently as we pleaſe? But to attempt to correct our abuſes is treaſon! And treaſon again demands capital puniſh⯑ment! Nay, to put the matter in a ſtill more ſhocking point of view, we thus are taught that our wiſe and humane repreſentatives will paſs act after act, to take away the for⯑tunes, liberties, and lives of their conſtitu⯑ents; but not one to correct that abominable corruption for which, if men could deſerve hanging,—No, no: I will not ſiniſh my ſentence. Men cannot deſerve death. They deſerve our aid, our inſtruction, our love. And, if ſo, muſt not humanity bluſh at the ſanguinary pages, which theſe im⯑peccable [49]legiſlators, each time they meet, conſult how they may render more ſan⯑guinary?

Gentlemen, theſe Commons vote taxes; theſe Commons vote exciſe laws; theſe Commons vote lottery-bills; theſe Com⯑mons vote ſtatutes to hang you; and theſe Commons vote armies, to carry the whole of their votes into execution. Your ſafety, your liberty, your lives are not in your own keeping; but in the keeping of an Oligarchy of one hundred and ſixty-two peers and commoners. All that is dear to you does not depend on that juſtice which is the emanation and the pride of reaſon; but it depends on Yes and No: and to deny that Yes and No are argument, juſ⯑tice, and happineſs, is Treaſon.

The difficulty of raiſing ſupplies, in or⯑der to drag heavily forward the unwieldy ark, which cracks in every joint and threatens deſtruction to ſhameleſs vice that dances naked around it, I ſay, this diffi⯑culty is ſo great that means which are at once the moſt offenſive to the feelings of [50]the people, and the moſt pernicious to their morals, are inevitably adopted. What is more execrated, or more execrable, than a lottery-bill? which annually receives the ſolemn ſanction of King, Lords, and Com⯑mons, for tradeſmen to cheat their credi⯑tors, ſervants and apprentices to rob their maſters, children to pilfer their parents, the poor to pawn the very rags that con⯑ceal their nakedneſs, and the whole nation to gamble with the expreſs encouragement of law! Gentlemen, this is an act of ſuch incredible error, that, though we know it to be true, we are tempted to doubt if it can exiſt! What! King, Lords, and Com⯑mons join in ſolemnly enacting a law, that authorizes and ſtimulates to ſuch innume⯑rable vices? King, Lords, and Commons do this! It is falſe! No man will believe it! No man dare aſſert it! It were a million of treaſons to imagine them guilty of miſtakes ſo palpable and ſo pernicious! Gentlemen, my heart aches, it bleeds, and has bled in ſecret ten thouſand times, at the dreadful recollection! Does it require the gift of [51]prophecy to foretell that the political con⯑ſequences of ſuch a ſyſtem of political mo⯑rality muſt be ſocial deſtruction? The re⯑medy is at hand; gentle, gradual, and peaceful reform. But they will neither take nor adminiſter the neceſſary medicine. No: to offer them the ſanative draught is Treaſon!

Gentlemen, I am here upon life and death. This is no time for me to ſoften down Truth till it aſſume the guiſe of Falſehood; and, if it be, I will not accept of life upon ſuch terms. I pity the miſ⯑takes of men, and I have already declared it to be my creed that the worſt of crime is but error of the underſtanding: yet I own myſelf utterly aſtoniſhed, at the in⯑conſiſtency of thoſe men who were them⯑ſelves the boldeſt inquirers, in the year 1783, into the crying abuſes that threaten the ſtate with ruin; and who, in the year 1794, could inſtitute a proſecution againſt an individual of my principles for High Treaſon! But vain is the warning voice; though one ſhould riſe from the dead, they [52]will not be perſuaded: Yet again and again I will exclaim to them, Beware of the hundred and ſixty-two! Beware of the Oligarchy! Beware of iron-handed Deſpo⯑tiſm! Beware of gore-ſtreaming Civil War! Have pity on the people, have pity on yourſelves, and REFORM! And, if this be treaſon, welcome DEATH! I am ready.

Well! I am a traitor; and I conſpire with other traitors, who meditate plans of reform.

Oh could this traitor but detail the fear⯑ful facts, could he indeed rouſe you to a ſenſe of the miſchief that our political er⯑rors engender, and which are ſo fatally fa⯑miliarized to us that even while they are ſeen they are not obſerved, there is not a man that hears him who would not in⯑ſtantly exclaim, as I do, Reform! Reform! Reform! But, I feel my powers wholly unequal to the effort.

And yet, ſtrange to think! we daily ſee public ſenſibility ſo morbid, to national and to general happineſs, as to teſtify diſſatiſ⯑faction [53]for the want of news, if ſome dreadful battle have not been fought, ſome miſerable city laid in ruins, ſome province inundated, or ſome country not ſuffering all the horrors of famine: and all theſe horrors created by the deſtructive errors of Prime Miniſters, Lords, and Commons. Oh! welcome death, indeed, when I ſhall behold this, and not dare to proclaim the vice! or when I ſhall tremble to pronounce Famine, Prime Miniſters, Lords and Com⯑mons in the ſame breath. Should they be offended, my anſwer is ready: REFORM! Hang draw and quarter me, if you pleaſe; but Reform!

An Empreſs, but lately, ſent her blood⯑drenched hell hounds to maſſacre thirty thouſand defenceleſs perſons, in the city of Iſmael! An Empreſs! The dreadful tale was ſtated in our daily papers as a com⯑mon occurrence, and read with infinitely leſs emotion than would have been excited by a paragraph of a ſingle domeſtic mur⯑der. With this Empreſs, who had made treaties in the name of the Holy Trinity [54]with the Poles, our miniſters alſo made reaties; and in the name of the Holy Tri⯑nity. To more treaties, with more Impe⯑rial Majeſties, Kings, Potentates, and Prin⯑ces who had human butchers ready trained to ſlaughter human beings, and bring them to the ſhambles of Ariſtocratical, Princely, and Imperial vengeance, the name of the Holy Trinity was again and again invo⯑ked. The treaties were made, and the dogs of war unleaſhed. Rape, fire, and ſword were inſufficient; red-hot balls too lenient: fraud, forgery, and famine, muſt ſwell the hell-born troop. Swind⯑ling fraud, and wholeſale forgery muſt combine, under the ſanction of treaties proclaimed in the name of the Holy Tri⯑nity. Famine, Oh God! Oh God! De⯑vouring famine muſt haſten, in the name of the Holy Trinity, to the deſtruction of twenty-five millions of men! And ſhall this Iſmael Heroine, this thirty thouſand ſouled Empreſs, ſhall theſe Holy Trinity Prime Miniſters, ſhall theſe fraud, forgery, and Famine Potentates not hear of their [55]horrors? Will a nation, thus implicated in theſe infamous tranſactions, know theſe things and be ſilent? Or ſhould they, have not twenty-five millions of men one tongue among them, to publiſh the black narrative?

To whom do theſe twenty-five millions of men attribute the murders of the guillo⯑tine, the maſſacres of Lyons, the devaſ⯑tations of La Vendée, and the unheard of miſeries to which France for theſe two years has been a witneſs; and to all of which, wonderful to relate, ſhe is riſing ſu⯑perior? To whom but to Brunſwick, Pitt, and Cobourg? Names held there in more univerſal abhorrence than ever were thoſe of Caligula and Nero.

Gentlement, I know not how to make myſelf underſtood. While ſeeking to bring to your recollection the iniquities that error begets, I feel myſelf uſing the language to which the paſſions, the miſeries, and the miſtakes of men have given birth. I may ſeem to foſter a malignity againſt individuals, of which I do moſt ſolemnly [56]proteſt I am not conſcious in my heart. May the greateſt good that can befall man ſuddenly be theirs! May they awa⯑ken to a ſenſe of the ruin they have occa⯑ſioned, and be freed from thoſe errors of the underſtanding which have been the origin of all their crimes! This is all the harm I either do or ever can wiſh to man; and may this harm, if it be harm, be mine! I plead to convince you of the neceſſity of reform, and of the deep and everlaſting impreſſion which this neceſſity has made upon my mind. Yes, gentlemen, if to en⯑deavour at reform be treaſon, pronounce me guilty at once. Sweep ſuch a miſta⯑ken wretch from the face of the earth, and let him vex the world no more; for while I live and while I can diſcover error, I muſt and will warn mankind to reform.

Some few of the political and moral con⯑ſequences of our parliamentary depravity I have enumerated: but who can enumerate them all? "I have bought you, and I will "ſell you," is the proverbial language of our immaculate members. Put the queſ⯑tion [57]home to your conſciences, gentlemen: what can be the morality of theſe buyers? What the morality of the bought? What ſenſe of moral dignity, what degree of ho⯑neſt determined ſincerity, what quantity of diſintereſted rectitude, can either poſſeſs? Theſe repreſentatives are inceſſantly buſied in making laws: nor is there a ſtatute that they paſs in which the happineſs of the na⯑tion is not moſt ſeriouſly involved. On this happineſs their attention ought to be unſhakenly fixed; the good of mankind their uniform and ſole motive. Aſk your⯑ſelves, gentlemen, is this the purpoſe, can this be the motive, of men who accept their ſeats on the vile condition of voting as their patron ſhall pleaſe; who enter the houſe without having conſidered any queſ⯑tion, yet pre-determined to decide on all? Are ſuch men the moral mongers of the nation?

What are the effects produced by the inſtitutes of which men are at preſent ſo tenacious? Why, theſe inſtitutes confine the poor to continual labour; by which they [58]are wholly deprived of leiſure. Theſe in⯑ſtitutes fix them in a degree of want, that precludes them the benefit of common ne⯑ceſſaries. Theſe inſtitutes impel them to ſeek relief from their miſeries in that for⯑getfulneſs which inebriety promotes. Theſe inſtitutes ſtimulate them to pilſer, by rob⯑bing them of the enjoyments in which their lawgivers riot. Theſe inſtitutes teach them ſelfiſhneſs, by convincing them that, if they do not hoard, they muſt ſtarve. Theſe in⯑ſtitutes inculcate and habituate them to re⯑venge, by inflicting puniſhment and vio⯑lence, as the only mode which theſe inſti⯑tutes know of correcting miſtake.

It has often been affirmed that the poor are incorrigible. Gentlemen, there is a melancholy and heart-rending truth lurking under this, in other reſpects, abominable aſ⯑ſertion. There is no law of mind which renders a poor man leſs capable of virtue than a rich: nor, indeed, are his vices half ſo numerous, or half ſo odious. No; it is not a law of mind; but if I may be allowed the figure, it is the law of no mind; the law [59]of ignorance; which is impoſed upon the poor by the labour and the wretchedneſs to which they are reduced.

Gentlemen, the miſchiefs of poverty are, not that it deprives the poor of the trap⯑pings and fooleries of the luxurious rich; but, that it robs them of their time, as well as of the means of acquiring knowledge. It is knowledge alone that can render the heart beneficent, the head comprehenſive, and the whole man wiſe and virtuous. To rob man of knowledge is to be guilty of the worſt of crimes; and of this crime I boldly accuſe our lawgivers, our non-reforming re⯑preſentatives, our oligarchical one hundred and ſixty-two.

And well it is that I am ſpeaking here, in this open court, where I have too many hearers, and too honeſt, to admit of miſinterpretation: for, were I ad⯑dreſſing myſelf in a ſmall room, to eight or ten perſons, with but half the freedom and the energy which here are virtue, it would there be treaſon. One of the ten would be a ſpy and an informer; who would alter and tranſpoſe and clip and carve my ſen⯑tences, [60]to fit the treaſonable model his em⯑ployers had provided. Thus, ſhould I hap⯑pen to mention that forty of the Tower guards had one day marched to the tunes of Ca ira and La Carmagnole, he would forget what was convenient for a ſpy not to remember; and, uſing my own words arranged after his own ingenious method, and with as little interpolation as can be ex⯑pected from a ſpy, would ſwear that I and forty Carmagnoles were to march to the tune of Caira and guard the Tower. Yes; he would ſwear theſe were my very words: and his con⯑ſcience would exult in the literal honeſty of its cunning. Such would certainly be my danger, were I unconſciouſly in the com⯑pany of theſe documented and dreſſed up gentlemen, whom no man now knows how to avoid. Nay I will not affirm that even this High Court at this moment is not con⯑taminated by their preſence. Miſerable ſyſ⯑tem, which cannot exiſt without ſuch ſup⯑porters! And tenfold miſerable, when it has arrived at that degree of open infamy as to induce a tribunal of juſtice to ſcreen [61]its promoters, under the pretence that ſtate ſecrets are not to be divulged.

Gentlemen, I pretend to no ſupernatural powers; I am neither prieſt nor prophet, Levite nor Reevite; yet this I dare venture to foretell, that, when we have reform, we ſhall not have ſpies. What a ſtate of ex⯑iſtence is that in which brother ſuſpects brother, ſervants are bribed to betray their maſters, and aſſociations are planned in every pariſh for the avowed purpoſe of pay⯑ing ſpies and informers! I would not, it is true, be guilty of treaſon or of ſuicide to rid myſelf of ſuch wretches; but, rather than walk the ſtreets in fear of them, rather than dread they ſhould haunt me in coffee-houſes, glide before me into all public places, and even ſtart up by my own fire-ſide to appal me, I would ſuffer all that their employers and paymaſters, Prime Miniſters, Lords, Commons, Aſſociators, and Recvites, could inflict.

Gentlemen, I ſeem to myſelf to have ſtrangely debaſed the dignity of my ſubject, even though that ſubject be the corruption [62]of parliament, by thus dipping into its very dregs; but, when we recollect the poiſon that theſe dregs engender, poiſon which envenoms the whole ſtate of ſocial exiſtence, infuſes itſelf into every heart, and there broods ſuſpicion, hatred, perjury, and rancour only fit for fiends, it then may ſurely help to fix more deeply in your me⯑mory the neceſſity of peaceful reform; and a conviction that the man, who could ſee only the few miſchiefs I have detailed, was not guilty of treaſon, when he endeavoured to procure that reform without which de⯑ſtruction muſt overtake us all.

Examine the moral conſequences of your Exciſe laws. The ſecurity in which recti⯑tude indulges is loſt, among thoſe who are ſubject to them. Suſpicion, a deſire of furtive concealment, hypocriſy, cunning, and perjury become their inmates. We ſcarcely find an inſtance in which theſe per⯑ſons do not openly proclaim their hatred of that government which has rendered them ſubject to ſo much oppreſſion.

What are the perſons who immediately ſee [63]theſe laws carried into execution? Are they not men ſtigmatized and obnoxious to com⯑munity? And how does the law treat them? It allows them a poor ſtipend, and commits to them a dangerous and a tempting truſt. It ſtimulates them to break their oaths, rob their employer, forfeit their character, and in every reſpect render themſelves the con⯑tempt of ſociety. Yet theſe are compara⯑tively petty evils: the Exciſe Laws muſt be encouraged, no matter at what expence of public morality; and all the vices which the brawls, obſcenity, and filth of gin ſhops can breed muſt not only be endured but promoted.

Theſe Exciſe Laws are ſwelled to a monſtrous bulk. In general, they are parts and parcels of other acts, in the body of which they are inſerted, and lie ſo ſcattered through the ſtatutes at large that the com⯑miſſioners of government have found it ex⯑pedient to collect them, and to add a copi⯑ous index. I never ſaw the book; it is a treaſure reſerved only for the initiated: for Commiſſioners, or men high in office in [64]the Exciſe. It is printed for their uſe, at the expence of government; and every offi⯑cer, entruſted with a copy, is obliged to give a bond of two hundred pounds to re⯑turn the book, when demanded. It con⯑tains all the parts of a plan which the con⯑trivers of it dread ſhould be inſpected. The trader, who is ſubject to theſe laws, may ſearch the ſtatutes at large; and diſco⯑ver how he may pay due obedience to them, if he can. The Philoſopher, a ſtill more noxious animal to a ſtateſman, may wade through the mire of theſe ſtatutes at large, and waſte a life in reading acts of parliament, that he may make thoſe extracts from each act which relate to the Exciſe, the miſchiefs of which it is his duty and his deſire to make public. But ſo it is. Government, in all caſes, ſeems to place its ſecurity in the ignorance of the governed; and there is no creature that it hates ſo much or flies with ſuch antipathy and panic terror as from an enquirer. He will detect its errors: and its errors and its exiſtence are ſuppoſed, by itſelf, to be ſo interwoven [65]as inevitably to live and die together. If it did not ſo ſuppoſe, the queſtion of the li⯑berty of the Preſs could never have been ſtarted, men of enquiry could not have been nicknamed in order to be hunted down, and an advocate of peaceful reform could not have ſtood at this bar, arraigned for High Treaſon.

How can I quit this ſubject, this neceſ⯑ſity of reform? Imagination conjures up the picture of a general election, when the whole kingdom affords a tumultuous ſcene of depravity ſuch as every friend of man ſhrinks from with anguiſh! Impelled by a torrent which he cannot reſiſt, the wiſe and good man yields, and, oh fatal neceſſity! becomes an actor in it. But ſurely, Gen⯑tlemen, it is not Cimmerian darkneſs with us! it is not total eclipſe! What! Can the wiſe and good man be a ſpectator of drunk⯑enneſs, bribery, perjury, bludgeon men, and murder, and not know they exiſt? Who can have a full image and conception of the feelings of thoſe great, good, and noble minded men, who, from a firm ſenſe [66]of duty, and, which may ſeem more pa⯑radoxical, an unbounded love of the mad wretches whom they could not guide, have been compelled to be the principal actors in theſe loathſome and lunatic tragedies?

Gentlemen, in vain do I toil to fill up a picture the miſeries of which are endleſs. I abandon it in deſpair! I leave it to the faithfulneſs of your own memories: I re⯑ſign it to the general feelings of mankind. Its tendency is too evident for me to fear that its miſchievous properties will not daily become more and more viſible. The wiſh at preſent neareſt to my heart is that thoſe who have the power to begin reform may ſuddenly have the will; and that they will no longer inſult the public, by exerciſing the worſt arts of the worſt of times, to ſtigmatize the friends of the human race through the medium of an accuſation for high treaſon.

And here, Gentlemen, implicated as I am in theſe legal aſperities, it is my duty to call your attention, now, and the attention of mankind, hereafter, to that abominable [67]law record an indictment. In language the moſt virulent, this calumniating inſtru⯑ment deforms the ſweet aſpect of a well ſpent life, and, by its aſſertions, changes the fair face of virtue to the black and hideous viſage of a fiend. It does not inquire if a brother have done wrong; a miſtaken brother, whom it benevolently intends to benefit; but, burſting into all the rage of paſſion, it accuſes blindfold, and deſcribes him who had before been thought a man of virtue as poſſeſſed by vices that would diſgrace a demon. It practiſes acknowledged falſehoods, which its fabricators call fictions; and, plunging its object in a torrent of legal venom, then leaves the poor ſuffocated wretch to eſcape and purify himſelf as he can.

Feeling, as I did, that I had deſerved well of my country, knowing how inceſſantly I had laboured to diſcover and, though fre⯑quently erroneous, to practiſe virtue, what were my emotions while I liſtened to the monotonous gabble of ſuch an unintelli⯑gible and ſlanderous jargon! Did I ever, [68]ſaid I, imagine I ſhould live to hear abuſe ſo laviſhed on me? That I ſhould be ſum⯑moned to hear it, too, in the preſence of grave men; who are ſo intent upon being ſolemn that they dreſs themſelves in gar⯑ments ſuch as no man ever ſaw, unleſs at plays and puppet-ſhews, leſt they ſhould forget to act ſolemnity well?

This indictment ſays that theſe falſe traitors, I being one, met and aſſembled in Saint Giles's. I have had numberleſs occa⯑ſions to paſs through the precincts of Saint Giles, though never to meet traitors there; I have ſeen the blue balls with which they abound, ſure tokens of vice and wretched⯑neſs; have remarked the gin-ſhops with anguiſh, and have heard their blaſphemies with diſguſt. But Saint Giles himſelf, with all his ruffians, makes no ſuch ruffian attacks, nor in ſuch ſet and ruffian like phraſe, as this grave, ridiculous, and falſe, this unintelligibly accurate and definitely incomprehenſible inſtrument of juriſpru⯑dence, an indictment.

Gentlemen, I do but recapitulate facts. [69]It is not my fault that ſuch is law. I ſpeak in the preſence of lawyers: men acknow⯑ledged to be the firſt in their profeſſion. To ſome of them I am indebted for an at⯑tempt on my life; and, what is infinitely more precious, my honeſt fame, my moral exiſtence, and future utility; to others for the defence of theſe ineſtimable bleſſings. What I have this day had occaſion to ſay, concerning law, I am well aware muſt have excited their mutual amazement; and perhaps their mutual indignation. I wiſh not to offend; but I own that I, in my turn, am amazed to recollect that the facts innumerable, of all nations and of all ages, and in few ſo abundant as in this nation and in this age, I ſay, I am utterly aſtoniſhed that theſe facts can be ſo completely for⯑gotten, by the perſons under whoſe eye and whoſe agency they are ſo inceſſantly tranſacted! What, have they neither hear⯑ing ſight nor ſenſe? Are they ſo eager in the purſuit of new errors that they have not a moment to glance at the paſt?

Far be it from me to depreciate the indi⯑vidual, [70]I ſpeak only of the profeſſion. As men, they frequently poſſeſs the moſt dignified virtues of man; as in this conteſt has been moſt eminently proved: as law⯑yers, they are what law has made them; as has in this conteſt been no leſs clearly demonſtrated.

Gentlemen, ſecure in the conſcious rec⯑titude of good intention, let me lay bare my heart to you. Perhaps you think I have ſpoken with too little reverence of antient forms and inſtitutions; which, how⯑ever they may ſhun the teſt of reaſon, may yet demand reſpect. I know this is the opinion of many: I cannot help it that it is not mine. If I am in an error, I ſincerely wiſh to be better informed; but I confeſs that, at preſent, I feel no more reverence for the trappings of antiquity than I do for a fool's cap and bells. I think them equally ridiculous and derogatory. Yet, while I would gladly prevail on every wearer of them to ſtrip himſelf of ſuch in⯑ſignia of vice and folly, I would not move a finger in the way of force to wreſt them [71]from the characters whom I think they diſgrace. No; till we can perſuade their fond owners to tear them away with their own hands, there let them remain. It is a moſt ſacred duty to proclaim the folly; but it is a duty ſtill more ſacred, if poſſible, not to perſecute the fool. Let thoſe who think that by-words, weaſel ſkins, the entrails of worms, and the white and yel⯑low dirt of Peru can dignify the human character continue ſo to think, till inſtruc⯑tion can cure them of their error: for my own part, I cannot reſpect abſurdity; but I ſhould be a vicious and a dangerous man could I attempt to offer it violence. I know that all this is no part of the creed of my accuſers. I know that, in their code, it is high treaſon. If you, Gentlemen, think it ſo, if you can diſcover any intention in me to excite inſurrection, civil war, and to depoſe the King and put him to death, let me ſuffer all the horrors which the law has decreed againſt traitors: for, till I am convinced, I will not recant one ſyllable.

Gentlemen of the Jury: thus far I have [72]been pleading as if there had been in my caſe, as there is always ſuppoſed to be, ſome ground of charge, ſome colour of ſuſpicion, ſome ſpecific accuſation and forth-coming accuſers, to induce the authors of this pro⯑ſecution to bring me into the horrid predi⯑cament in which I ſtand: that of being pro⯑claimed a traitor to my country, an enemy to mankind, and of holding my life at the hazard of the miſtakes which the acrimony and prejudice of the moment might beget, or the intricacies of law and the ſubtleties of lawyers might produce. The wicked⯑neſs of the attempt they have made upon my life is ſo incredible that, ſince this moſt ſtrange Grand Jury ſtrangely returned the Indictment preſented againſt me a true bill, I have daily and involuntarily aſked myſelf, 'Is it poſſible? Am I dreaming? Is the 'whole world mad? Or am I alone a mad⯑man?' Gentlemen! I had a liſt of two hundred and eight witneſſes given me with my indictment, few very few of whom, in the whole courſe of my life, I had ever ſeen or heard of; and the remainder were, every [73]one of them, perſons on whom I have called, and whoſe teſtimony you have heard directly and flatly diſproving, in the moſt ſolemn manner, the crimes thus wickedly laid to my charge! Nearly two hundred unknown witneſſes, to come forward and prove upon me that I had conſpired to ex⯑cite inſurrection, rebellion, and war, to de⯑poſe the King, and to put him to death! This enormous infamy I am taxed with; and this cloud of witneſſes are aſſigned, un⯑der my proſecutors' own hand, to come upon oath and ſubſtantiate my guilt, at the moment I knew it to be impoſſible, for any man on the face of the earth, to prove ſuch crimes on me! This liſt is formally deliver⯑ed to me, by the Solicitor for the Treaſury, in the preſence of his two Clerks, who are to depoſe to its ſafe delivery! But what will you ſay, ſitting here as you do the Judges of your country, when you ſhall recollect that, inſtead of having, as my proſecutors aſſerted, two hundred and eight witneſſes to prove me guilty of rebellion, war, and put⯑ting the King to death, they had no one wit⯑neſs [74]to prove my guilt; but that they had ſeveral who, in the very beginning of the Privy Council's inquiries, had uniformly depoſed to the peacefulneſs of my princi⯑ples and actions. Yes, Gentlemen, the mem⯑bers of the Society for Conſtitutional Infor⯑mation, whom they, that is, Mr. Pitt, Mr. Dundas, the Lord Chancellor, Mr. Reeves, and the whole Privy Council interrogated concerning me, gave teſtimony to my being a declared enemy to all force. One of the witneſſes, ſubpoenaed on this trial againſt me, told the Grand Jury that, ſo far from being in a conſpiracy to excite inſurrection, I was a natural Quaker: which he ex⯑plained by words importing that I had the peaceful morality of the Quakers, without their ſpiritual inſpirations.

Gentlemen, the ſtretch of conſcience of a Stateſman is to me unfathomable, How Mr. Pitt, how Mr. Dundas, how the Lord High Chancellor of theſe realms can recon⯑cile theſe things to their hearts, what their feelings are, what their waking thoughts, and what their ſleeping, I cannot divine. [75]Could men of ſuch gigantic and incompre⯑henſible State morality liſten to the advice of one whom they have denounced a trai⯑tor, I would conjure them inſtantly to re⯑viſe their paſt conduct; to conſider whether the conſtructive treaſons which they have endeavoured to prove upon twelve men may not, with inſinitely leſs violence, be turned to their own deſtruction; whether their conduct or mine has been moſt calcu⯑lated to excite inſurrection, rebellion, and war, with the other dreadful conſequences, the horror of which forbids their recapitu⯑lation; whether it be reconcileable to their morality thus to labour the death of an in⯑dividual who, were they at this moment in danger, would exert his whole faculties, ſuch as they are, to prevent, not only the ſhedding of their blood, but, all poſſible harm from happening to them; and who, had he the power to do them good, would, from principle, conceive himſelf as irrevo⯑cably bound to do good to them as to any and to every other human being. Yes, Gentlemen, when I publiſh the errors they [76]have committed, it is not to injure theſe men; but to prevent them from injuring all mankind. And for this great end, to fur⯑ther this everlaſting cauſe, the cauſe of truth and the good of the whole, I will again brave perſonal danger, and all the miſeries which miſtaken and injurious men can heap on my head.

Gentlemen, you have heard my accuſers, you have heard my witneſſes, you have heard my defence. Againſt my proſecutors, perſonally, who have inſtigated the accuſa⯑tion that has brought me into this perilous ſtate, I deliberately declare I feel no reſent⯑ment: though certainly I can conceive few horrors equal to thoſe which they have ſought to bring upon me. My property they have waſted; the means by which I ſupported my family they have for a time cut off; my character they have attempted to blaſt. But, as all theſe injuries, and every other that man can commit, are abſo⯑lutely no more than errors of the under⯑ſtanding, to be angry at them is as irrational as it is unwiſe. I hope the fearful proceed⯑ings [77]of this whole proſecution will be a leſſon, too deeply impreſſive to be ever for⯑gotten by them; and that they and all men will be more and more averſe to the ſhed⯑ding of blood. Should I live, and ſhould theſe proſecutors ſtill remain unconvinced of their miſtakes, I will never ceaſe to raiſe my weak voice, to warn them and the world againſt what I believe to be miſtakes ſo pernicious. But, in doing this, ſtrict truth and the good of mankind ſhall be my guides; and, if any bitterneſs of recollec⯑tion ſhould ever induce me to alter or diſ⯑guiſe the truth, I can honeſtly ſay it will be from ſome undetected miſtaken feeling; and not from any principle of revenge, which I conſider as a heinous and highly miſchievous crime.

With reſpect to my witneſſes, I could eaſily have doubled the number. My firſt care was to ſelect ſuch whoſe character would not diſgrace this High Tribunal of Juſtice; and my next to cite perſons of different ages, and oppoſite parties, that you, Gentlemen of the Jury, might be convinced [78]my principles and conduct on all occaſions were the ſame. You have now only to decide. The ſentence for this crime is, ‘That the culprit ſhall be taken from the Bar, and conveyed to the place from whence he came; and from thence be drawn upon a hurdle to the place of exe⯑cution, there to be hanged by the neck; but not until he is dead; he ſhall be taken down alive, his privy members ſhall be cut off, and his bowels ſhall be taken out and burnt before his face; his head ſhall be ſevered from his body, and his body ſhall then be divided into four quarters, which are to be at the King's diſpoſal; and the Lord have mercy on his ſoul!’

Gentlemen, though I hold it impoſſible for any human being to merit ſo offenſive a puniſhment, yet, as I am afraid I am ſin⯑gular in this opinion, I do not mean to ap⯑peal to your humanity, but to your juſtice; and, if I am a traitor, if I have compaſſed or imagined the death of the King, if you have any ſort of proof that can juſtify ſuch a verdict to your own conſciences, then pro⯑nounce [79]me Guilty; and let my members be cut off, my bowels burnt, my head ſevered from the trunk, and my body divided into four quarters and ſent to be at the King's diſpoſal: for it matters little to me whether it be at the King's and the hangman's, or the vultures' and the wolves'.