The present meeting was composed of some of the most influential and violent of the agitators of the time, being, some of them, members of the central committee, the rest delegates from various parts of London. They were, as in the French Revolution they aspired to imitate, divided into two distinct classes. A small minority were men like William Holl, intelligent and enthusiastic, to a certain extent theorists and dreamers, but actuated only by a sincere desire of ameliorating and raising the condition of their fellow-workmen—men with pale faces and lustrous eyes, animated with ardent hopes and pure intentions. But the vast majority, had very different aims and notions. They desired in the first place to pull down all above them, under the conviction that, in the confusion and anarchy which would follow the carrying out of their plans, they would somehow or other better their own condition. These men cared but little for the nominal objects of their schemes, but to secure their personal aggrandizement would not have hesitated at a reign of terror. They hated work, and, lived upon the contributions wrung from their dupes, and took up politics simply because they were selfish and indolent. The general end for which all alike professed to be agitating was manhood suffrage and political equality; their secret hopes and wishes differed greatly. Some would have been satisfied with a change of Government, and a House of Commons in which the democratic element thoroughly preponderated; others would have abolished the House of Peers, and have ruled only by an assembly chosen from the people; some, again, openly advocated the establishment of a republic; while a few went in for universal equality and a community of goods. The men present were composed principally of the working classes, but there were some few who by their attire belonged to a higher class, clerks and small tradesmen, who, either from interest or ambition, had joined the movement.
The chairman was evidently a man of a considerably higher social grade than most of his associates, and was elevated to the position he at present occupied for that reason, and not for any mental superiority. Indeed, among all the faces present, his was the most strikingly distinguished for an entire absence of any intellectual expression. An elderly man, with white hair, whiskers, and hair under his chin, with a look of self-importance which was laughable in its inordinate vanity. He was a bad speaker, and delivered his harangues with an exaggeration of attitude, and an inflated pomposity of manner, at which even his associates had difficulty in restraining their laughter. And yet their chairman was a useful man to them, and the LL.D. after his name threw a sort of halo of respectability over the cause. Next to him sat a man who differed in appearance yet more strongly from the remainder of those present. He was a tall man, very carefully dressed, and with a military bearing. Captain Thornton had been an officer in the army, but had been put upon half-pay, and considered himself hardly used. He resembled the chairman, only in being inordinately and absurdly vain. His personal vanity it was which had urged him to take part in the present movement, and made him delight to march at the head even of a mob from St. Giles’s. He was one of those men who would fain be king, but would otherwise be content to act the part of king’s fool, as being the next most conspicuous personage. He loved being looked up to as a man of consequence by the mechanics and roughs with whom he was associated. It tickled his consuming vanity, when he was saluted in the streets with the cry of “Bravo, Thornton!” To obtain popularity, even among the lowest class, he would have done anything, short of disturbing the set of his coat or the arrangement of his hair. Had there been no other way of making himself conspicuous, he would have done it by wearing a feather in his hat, or painting his boots scarlet. Not the least gratification which Captain Thornton derived from his prominent position in the ranks of the Chartists was the belief that he was revenging himself upon the authorities for the manner in which they had treated him. He was a more dangerous man than the chairman, for although equally vain, he was not equally weak, and would have gone any lengths, even to deluging England with blood, if he could have increased the notoriety of his name by so doing.
Such were some of the nominal leaders of the Chartist movement of ‘48. William Holl took his place at the lower end of the table by the side of a few others who were, like himself, animated by a really disinterested and lofty spirit. A whispered conversation was kept up for a few minutes, and then the chairman rose. He accompanied his speech by swaying his body backwards and forwards, and by striking one hand in the palm of the other. He spoke very slowly in broken sentences, pausing between each, as if he expected applause to follow every utterance.
“My friends, the glorious moment when we shall shake off the yoke under which we have for a thousand years groaned, is at hand. The aristocracy, who batten on your sweat and blood, tremble. The Government are preparing for flight. The great cause gains ground daily. Ten thousand signatures have been added to the Charter of the people during the last three days. The moment of freedom is at hand! We agreed, at our last meeting, that we would this evening discuss what our course of proceeding shall be, when the Charter of the people is presented to the House of Commons. In that House we have no confidence; it is composed of the enemies of the people,—of the very men who are the worst oppressors,—who lay the taxation of the nation on the shoulders of the working men, while they enjoy their iniquitous wealth scot-free! They are the ravening lions who lay wait to devour the poor! Yet to them must we, in the first place, submit our cause. We have now to consider what is the course it behoves us to adopt.”
There was a slight silence, and then William Holl said, “It appears to me that the question resolves itself into two sides. If the House receive our petition, and act in accordance with it, our object will have been gained, and our course then will be to strain every nerve throughout the country to return men of our own views. Every working man in the kingdom must be pledged to vote only for the members selected for them by a central committee, and as we shall be in a majority of twenty to one everywhere, we shall return exactly such a House as we desire, and can pass laws which will put an end to the injustice and anomalies of which we complain. But this is for after consideration, and the machinery can be arranged at a future time. The other alternative is, if the House refuse to receive our petition, or if they accept it, to carry it into force. The question then arises, and should now be determined upon, what shall be our course? Shall we submit to the refusal, or use force?”
Each man looked at the other. This was palpably the question upon which the whole of their plans depended, and although nearly all were of one opinion on it, none liked to be the first to propose violence. At last Captain Thornton said:
“It appears to me, gentlemen, that we must be all of one opinion. The voice of the people is the voice of God; we must compel the Houses of Parliament to pass our Charter. We compelled them in ‘32 to pass the Reform Bill, and the same means must be used now; but if those means fail, we must follow the example of the people of Paris. We must march our tens of thousands down from Manchester, and the manufacturing towns. We must fill the galleries of the House; we must compel them to sit until they have passed it; we must awe them into submission.”
“Right, Thornton,” another said. “We must render refusal out of the question; we must make them carry our wishes into effect.”
“But force will be opposed to us,” one of the others remarked, doubtingly.
“Then,” William Holl said, resolutely, “it must be met by force. Are we greater cowards than the working men of the other capitals of Europe? and yet in the last month or two we have seen them carry their way against Despots, with armies of ten times the force of ours to back them. Are we greater cowards than the French, who in ‘87, in ‘30, and again now, have insisted on their will being respected? The working men of London may be put down at five hundred thousand; and to oppose us, are only the handful of troops now in it; for none will be spared from other parts. Manchester, Birmingham, Sheffield, Leeds, all the great manufacturing towns are with us, and there are not thirty thousand troops in England, and these are of ourselves. Let us always, when interrupted by the police, beat them off. When the soldiers come against us, cheer them and fraternise with them. If the worst comes to the worst, let us defy them.”