ly enough, the working men attributed their
sufferings to their want of direct political influence, and began
to clamour for the franchise. Feargus O'Connor, a violent demagogue,
fanned the flame, and the excitement became general. In the year 1838
some half-dozen Members of Parliament united with an equal number of
working men in conference, and drew up a document, known afterwards
as "The People's Charter," which embodied what they considered the
rightful demands of the working class. It had six distinct claims,
which were called the "points" of the charter, and were as follows: 1.
Universal suffrage. 2. Vote by ballot. 3. Equal electoral districts.
4. Annual Parliaments. 5. Abolition of property qualification for
Members of Parliament. 6. Payment of Members. This programme, when
promulgated, was enthusiastically received throughout the country,
immense meetings being held in various places in its support. In
Birmingham, meetings were held every Monday evening on Holloway Head,
then an open space. On the 13th of August, 1838, there was a "monster
demonstration" here, and it was computed that 100,000 persons were
present. A petition in favour of the charter was adopted, and in a
few days received nearly 95,000 signatures. The former political
leaders--G.F. Muntz, George Edmonds, and Clutton Salt--became all at
once exceedingly unpopular, as they declined to join in the agitation.
Torchlight meetings were held almost nightly in various parts of the
country, and a Government proclamation was issued prohibiting them.
Some of the leaders of the movement were arrested. There was evidently
some central organisation at work, for a curious system of annoyance
was simultaneously adopted. In all parts of the country the Chartists,
in large and well-organised bodies, went, Sunday after Sunday, as soon
as the doors were opened, and took possession of all the seats in the
churches, thus shutting out the regular congregations. I was present
at a proceeding of this kind at Cheltenham. I was staying at "The
Fleece," and on a Saturday evening was told by the landlord that if I
wished to go to church the following morning, I had better be early,
as the Chartists were expected there, and the hotel pew might be full.
Dr. Close, the present Dean of Carlisle, was then the rector, and
was a very popular preacher. I had long wished to hear him, and
accordingly went to the church, with some other hotel guests. Soon
after the bells had begun to