vidently 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 in