Corruption

There has been much talk in recent weeks of the presence of corruption in British politics. The Prime Minister and members of the Cabinet appear to be relaxed about accepting gifts from wealthy donors. Keir Starmar is said to have accepted £76,000 worth of gifts since 2019 including £16,200 of work clothing from the Labour peer Waheed Alli, as well as corporate hospitality at Arsenal and Taylor Swift concert tickets. (For an in-depth assessment see Peter Geoghegan, 'Labour and the Lobbyists', London Review of Books, 15 August 2024, pp. 10-12).

Image of the Prime Minister’s official residence at 10 Downing Street, taken from Wikimedia Commons.

Of course, such gifts are nothing new, and the perks Labour ministers have accepted pale into insignificance alongside Boris Johnson's Caribbean holiday on the island of Mustique, courtesy of the co-founder of Carphone Warehouse David Ross, and the refurbishment of his Downing Street flat that was paid for by Lord Brownlow. The idea that being in government brings perks way beyond the imagination of most working people seems to be widely accepted, at least among politicians themselves.

However, there is an issue about the gap that this creates between the Government and those it governs and represents. Another concern is the fact that the gift-givers might expect something in return - such as a blue light escort through the capital or favourable deals and contracts.

Corruption is not a new problem in Britain. As long ago as 1701, a pamphlet was published entitled: The Corruption and Impiety of the Common Members of the Late House of Commons. Its author claimed that the government had fallen into decay and observed that even those candidates who before being elected had insisted that they would be 'True-Representatives of the People' - once in office 'have done nothing worthy of the Name of Englishmen' (The Corruption and Impiety of the Common Members of the Late House of Commons. London, 1701).

While what was meant by corruption in the eighteenth century was not necessarily the same as what is meant by it now, understanding how the term was used then and why it was a cause for concern, might illuminate the issues under debate today.

Image depicting Aristotle. Taken from Wikimedia Commons.

In the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, concern about the problem of corruption was grounded in the understanding that the British constitution required that the three elements of the system - Crown, Lords, and Commons - needed to be balanced with and against each other, so as to ensure that the whole would operate in the interests of the public good. The notion of balance in government was based on ancient ideas: Aristotle's assessment of the advantages and disadvantages of the rule of the one, the few, and the many; and Polybius's suggestion that a mixed government comprising all three could secure the advantages of each without their disadvantages. This understanding of mixed or balanced government - and of the English parliamentary system as an embodiment of it - was voiced by many on the parliamentarian side during the mid-seventeenth-century Civil Wars. More interesting is the fact that in 1642 it was used by the writers of His Majesties Answer to the Nineteen Proposition to counter the demands made of the King in those Propositions:

There being three kinds of government among men (absolute monarchy, aristocracy,

and democracy), and all these having their particular conveniences and

inconveniences, the experience and wisdom of your ancestors has so moulded this

out of a mixture of these as to give this kingdom (as far as human prudence can

provide) the conveniences of all three, without the inconveniences of any one, as

long as the balance hangs even between the three states (His Majesties Answer to the

Nineteen Proposition, London, 1642).

The pamphlet went on to argue that the demands being made by Parliament in The Nineteen Propositions - such as the requirement that all officers and counsellors be approved by Parliament - if adopted, would disrupt the balance by shifting power from the King to the Commons.

For opposition writers in the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries it was not the Crown that was at risk from the Commons, but rather the Commons that was at risk from the Crown. As the author of The Corruption and Impiety of the Common Members of the Late House of Commons noted:

It hath been a common and known Practice for this Forty Years last past; for Men of

Confidence and ready Elocution, if they could but procure an Election in some little

Mercenary Burrough, and so get into the House, presently to set themselves to

oppose the King and the Court, that they might be bought off by some good

Gratuity; Pension, or Place (The Corruption and Impiety, p. 2).

‘James Murray’, by Pollard, 1770s. National Portrait Gallery, NPG D32123. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

In order to control Parliament, the monarch and ministers would offer money, pensions or positions to elected MPs. From 1706 the term 'placemen' began to be used to denote those implicated in this practice. According to the Oxford English Dictionary a 'placeman' is: 'A person who is appointed (or aspires) to a position, esp. in government service, for personal profit and as a reward for political support; a yes-man.' Placemen remained an issue throughout the eighteenth century. In 1774 the Newcastle minister and political activist James Murray spoke, via a thinly veiled reference to the Biblical state of Moab, of representatives selling out to the crown for 'places, pensions, and perquisites' so that the institution that was supposed to represent and protect the people's interests and liberties became a means of enslaving them. The system of places introduced was 'only to be enjoyed by the friends of the court, or such as wished well to its interests'. By this means, those appointed by the nation 'to guard their liberties in parliament, were corrupted, and sold their constituents for a place under, or a pension from the government.' (James Murray, New Sermons to Asses. Philadelphia, 1774, p. 9).

Not long after, the newly established 'Society for Constitutional Information' noted that the public had been repeatedly warned about the venality of their representatives and called for various changes aimed at expelling 'minions of a court from the temple of public freedom' and restoring 'parliaments to their original purity and people to their rights'. (A Second Address to the Public from the Society for Constitutional Information. London, 1782, pp. 9-10). The arguments of the Society on this point were again grounded in their understanding of the balance of the constitution and the importance of the three elements - King, Lords and Commons - remaining independent of each other: 'The moment that either the Crown, the Lords, or the Commons lose their independence, in that moment our Constitution is violated, our Government is overturned, and our Liberty is endangered.' (An Address to the public, from the Society for Constitutional Information. London, 1780, p. 1).

The kind of corruption at issue today is, of course, different from that condemned by James Murray and the Society for Constitutional Information. For those interested in the complexity and history of the concept I recommend Mark Knights’s book Trust and Distrust: Corruption in office in Britain and its Empire (Oxford, 2021). Today there are many sources of corruption, but the bottom line is the dominance of private interests, including those of the rich and the powerful, over the public interest or the common good.

Waking up the 90 percent

I began writing this blogpost on 2nd May, having just returned home after voting in the local council elections. The turnout for local elections is never high. The national figure this time was just 32%, so 68% of eligible citizens chose not to exercise their democratic right, even in this most basic sense. In thinking about these elections, and voter apathy, I was reminded of this provocative poster

Waking up the 90% was the underlying aim of the Society for Constitutional Information (SCI). In an Address to the Public published in 1782 the Society expressed its concern that a small number of individuals were effectively disenfranchising their constituents (A Second Address to the Public from the Society for Constitutional Information, London, 1782, p. 9). In this context, the Society claimed to have undertaken the task of 'rousing their countrymen to the defence of their hereditary rights'

Convinced, that those who wish to enslave mankind will always attempt to divert

their attention from the danger which threatens their liberty, till the mortal wound

has been received, they present an antidote to the poisons which have been so

industriously diffused. (Second Address, p. 13).

That antidote was very simple. All it required was the diffusion of political information so as to revive in the minds of the British public 'knowledge of their lost rights' (Address to the public from the Society for Constitutional Information, London, 1780, p. 2). In particular, the SCI wanted to alert the public to the fact that the balance of the British constitution was under threat. The three elements of the constitution - King, Lords, and Commons - were supposed to be in balance, but this required them to be independent of each other. Yet what was increasingly happening, according to reformers, was that the independence of the Commons was being threatened by encroachment from both the King and the House of Lords. This was achieved by various means, including the existence of rotten boroughs and the restriction of the franchise - both of which often gave members of the aristocracy undue influence over the election of MPs. By reviving knowledge among citizens of their lost rights, the Society hoped to restore 'Freedom and Independency to that branch of the legislature that originates from, represents, and is answerable to them' (Address to the public, p. 2). I focused in a previous blogpost on the key elements of the reform agenda. This post will instead explore some of the methods adopted by the SCI to wake up the 90%.

Capel Loft by William Ridley. National Portrait Gallery, NPG D5102. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

Central to their approach was the reprinting of tracts analysing the British constitution and setting out the case for reform. In the second meeting of the Society, which was held on 2 May 1780, a resolution dictated details of the font, page size, and paper quality to be used in the tracts reprinted by the Society, and another required the printer to produce for the next meeting a specimen page with an estimate of the cost of printing 1,000 copies (The National Archives (TNA), TS 11/1133). Ten days later it was resolved 'unanimously' that Capel Lofft was to be requested 'to compile a Tract or Tracts, consisting of Extracts' from the works of various authors:

as may clearly define, or describe in few Words the English Constitution; and

particularly what relates to the Rights of the Commons to an equal and complete

Representation in Parliament; to their Independency as the Third Estate of the

Realm; to the Powers delegated to their Representatives, and the Limitations of the

same; and to the Abuses of those Powers.

These principles - and the authors who were explicitly named at that meeting - were reflected in the works that were identified at subsequent meetings as suitable for publication by the Society. In the first two years of the SCI's existence approximately 30 tracts were singled out for printing (with many others being entered into the books of the society). Those identified for printing included: the Society's own publications (such as their two Addresses to the People); works by members such as Major John Cartwright and Dr Joseph Towers; letters, speeches and reports central to the reform campaign; but also older texts identified as relevant to the cause such as John Trenchard's 'The History of Standing Armies' and Bishop Poynet's 'Treatise on Politick Power'.

As well as printing copies of entire tracts and distributing them for free, the Society also selected extracts from key texts to be printed in London newspapers such as the General Advertiser. During the year 1782, at least 23 extracts were selected by the Society for this treatment. Some of these were among those already identified for printing - such as Jeremiah Batley's 'Letter addressed to the people of England &c.' And Mr Bennett's 'Letter to the people of Great Britain', but others - including extracts from James Burgh's Political Disquisitions, Lord Bolingbroke's Dissertation on Parties, and Marchamont Nedham's The Excellency of a Free State - were not. During 1782 The General Advertiser included a regular column reporting SCI business which usually provided an extract from the minutes along with the text selected for inclusion. As time went on, the pages of that publication also became the location for debates concerning the decisions and activities of the Society, for example over its controversial resolution 'on money for ship building' from September 1782.

In addition to covering the costs of printing and attending to the distribution of texts, members of the SCI were also alert to the formats that were most likely to be accessible to members of the general public. In August 1781 the Society asked its members:

to consider of an Address to the Commonalty by way of Dialogue, or in some other

familiar and interesting Form showing how deeply and universally they are

concerned in the Question of equal Representation and new Parliaments every

Session. (TNA: TS 11/1133, 66, 3 August 1781).

Sir William Jones by James Heath, after Sir Joshua Reynolds. National Portrait Gallery. NPG D36735. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

It is not clear whether it was explicitly designed as a response to this request, but William Jones's Dialogue on the Principles of Government Between a Scholar and a Peasant, was seized upon by the Society for this end. On 26 July 1782 the Society ordered 'That Mr Jones's dialogue be entered into the Books of this Society' and on 9 August that it be 'printed in the publick papers' (TNA: TS 11/1133, 98, 100). The full text duly appeared in The General Advertiser on 15 August. The title page acknowledged Jones's membership of the Society (he had been elected an honorary member in March 1782 and regularly attended meetings between 10 May and March 1783) and the Society continued to support both Jones and his brother-in-law William Shipley, the Dean of St Asaph after he was prosecuted for disseminating the work in Wales.

One aspect of dialogue form is that it invites the audience into the narrative, thereby encouraging active engagement over passive reading. The premise behind this dialogue is the circulation of a reform petition that the peasant is reluctant to sign, admitting: 'It is better for us peasants to mind our husbandry, and leave what we cannot comprehend to the King and Parliament.' (William Jones, The Principles of Government; in a dialogue between a Scholar and a Peasant. London, 1782, p. 3). Over the next five pages the scholar succeeds in demonstrating to the peasant that he does have the understanding to engage with the issues surrounding reform. Central to this act of persuasion is the parallel that is drawn between the village friendly society - of which the peasant is a member - and a free state. The peasant already understands what is required for the friendly society to run effectively - including having clear rules to which everyone agrees; removing officers who betray the trust of members; and dealing with offenders who threaten the good of the society, with force if necessary. The scholar explains: 'That a free state is only a more numerous and more powerful club' and as a result the peasant realises that he has 'been a politician all my life without perceiving it' and therefore has all the knowledge required to sign the petition (Jones, The Principles of Government, p. 8). While the approach might seem patronising, the advantage of adopting dialogue form in this context is that readers could be convinced alongside the peasant, while reformers could use the specific arguments deployed by the scholar to persuade others - thereby spreading the desire for reform.

There is not space here to explore in detail the controversy that Jones's pamphlet prompted, but it is worth noting that the concern it aroused was largely due to the audience at which it was directed. In response to the high sheriff of Flintshire's verdict that it was a 'seditious, treasonable, and diabolical' work, the advertisement to a subsequent edition declared that in that case 'Lord Somers' 'was an incendiary' and Locke 'a traitor', the difference, of course, being that these works were not generally read by ordinary people. Shipley's circulation of the work in Wales (which included translating it into Welsh) was a deliberate attempt to broaden its audience. In the end the attempt by the authorities to contain it backfired, since the prosecution and trial drew attention to the work. The SCI reprinted not just the text itself, but also the court proceedings (TNA: TS 11/961) and both were presented as an 'interlude' to be performed at fairs and markets - thereby making it accessible even to those who were illiterate (Michael J. Franklin, 'Jones, Sir William (1746-1794), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography).

Dialogue is not a common format for political literature today, yet we do have a recent example of a television dramatisation provoking political action, in the case of 'Mr Bates vs The Post Office'. Perhaps those wanting to reverse modern day voter apathy in the forthcoming General Election would do well to follow the SCI's example and to think not just about the content of manifesto promises, but also about how to present them in an engaging fashion to the electorate.

The Society for Constitutional Information

In our household we are hoping for a late election. My son turns 18 in the summer, so the timing will determine whether or not he can vote in the forthcoming general election. This approaching milestone makes my current work on citizenship education all the more pertinent. Alongside this, in my classes on early modern history at Newcastle University I have been exploring with my students the development of political institutions between 1500 and 1800. In discussing the constitutional changes that occurred during the Civil Wars, or the proposals put forward by reformers in the late eighteenth century, some students have commented that they do not feel they have a good understanding of the workings of our political system today and that school did little to prepare them for their role as adult citizens.

The members of the Society for Constitutional Information (SCI), which was established in 1780, were equally concerned about the lack of an understanding of the constitution among residents of Britain in the late eighteenth century. Of course, the circumstances then were very different. In 1780 it is estimated that only 3% of the population of the United Kingdom had the vote. Today the percentage is approximately 68%. The main activity of the SCI was to disseminate knowledge of the British constitution among the population as a means of gaining support for the campaign for parliamentary reform.

In their first Address to the Public, the Society set out the fundamental belief that underpinned their commitment to reform:

LAW, TO BIND ALL, MUST BE ASSENTED TO BY ALL (An Address to the public,

from the Society for Constitutional Information. London, 1780, p. 1).

Statue of John Cartwright in Cartwright Gardens, Bloomsbury, London. Image by Rachel Hammersley

This reflects an understanding of liberty that insists that people are free if they are subject only to laws that they (or their representatives) have made. The idea was outlined more fully in the Declaration of Rights written by one of the SCI's founding members Major John Cartwright:

Fourthly, That they who have no voice nor vote in the electing of Representatives, do

not enjoy liberty; but are absolutely enslaved to those who have votes, and to their

Representative: for to be enslaved, is to have Governors whom other men have set over

us, and to be subject to laws made by the Representatives of others, without having had

Representatives of our own to give consent in our behalf.

Fifthly, That a very great majority of the Commonalty of this Realm are denied the

privilege of voting for Representatives in Parliament; and consequently, they are

enslaved to a small number, who do now enjoy this privilege exclusively to

themselves (John Cartwright, A Declaration of the Rights of Englishmen. London, no

date, p. 2).

This reflects the concept of Neo-Roman liberty analysed by the eminent historian Quentin Skinner, which has its origins in the Roman law distinction between those who are free and those who are slaves. Judged according to this principle, the members of the SCI concluded that the vast majority of the population of the United Kingdom were not free. Indeed they went so far as to argue that a small number of individuals without 'virtue' or 'abilities' were effectively disenfranchising their electors (A Second Address to the Public from the Society for Constitutional Information. London, 1782, p. 9).

They went on to outline three reform proposals that would need to be enacted to remedy the situation. First, they called for a redistribution of parliamentary seats.

This issue was summarised in the Report of the Sub-Committee of Westminster produced in March 1780. That committee included a number of members of the SCI and its reports were printed by the SCI for distribution:

That it appears to this Sub Committee, that many towns and boroughs, formerly

intitled "for their repute and population," to send members to Parliament, have

since fallen into decay, yet continue to have a representation equal to the most

opulent counties and cities; while other towns and places, which have risen into

consideration, and become populous and wealthy, have no representatives in

Parliament (Westminster Committee. King's Arms Tavern, March 20, 1780. Report of

the Sub Committee, appointed to enquire into the state of the representation of this country.

1780, p. 2).

Nine years later, the SCI declared that their 'most immediate object' was to gather and then publish 'a compleat State of the representation of the people in Parliament' and to this end they invited people to report on the situation regarding voters and elections in their local constituencies (The National Archives: TS 11/961. SCI Minutes for Friday 29th May 1789). The results appear in one of the SCI volumes held at the National Archives.

Concern at the unequal distribution of parliamentary seats was not a new idea in the late eighteenth century. In the Agreement of the People that was presented by an alliance of soldiers and civilian radicals to the General Council of the Army at the Putney Debates in October 1647 it was asserted:

That the People of England being at this day very unequally distributed by

Counties, Cities, & Boroughs, for the election of their Deputies in Parliament, ought

to be more indifferently proportioned, according to the number of the Inhabitants:

the circumstances whereof, for number, place, and manner, are to be set down

before the end of this present Parliament. (An Agreement of the People, for a firme and

present Peace, upon grounds of Common-Right. London, 1647, p. 2).

Secondly, the SCI advocated universal manhood suffrage, which set them apart from some of the more conservative reform societies at the time. As Cartwright declared in the second article of his Declaration of Rights:

That every man of the Commonalty (excepting infants, insane persons, and

criminals) is of common right, and by the laws of God, a freeman, and entitled to the

full enjoyment of liberty. (Cartwright, A Declaration of the Rights of Englishmen, p. 1).

Universal manhood suffrage was also not a completely new idea in 1780. At the Putney Debates, Colonel Thomas Rainsborough voiced the stirring line (now recalled in a plaque in Putney Church): 'for really I thinke that the poorest hee that is in England hath a life to live as the greatest hee'. He went on:

and therfore truly, Sir, I thinke itt's cleare, that every man that is to live under a

Government ought first by his owne consent to putt himself under that

Government; and I doe thinke that the poorest man in England is nott att all bound

in a stricte sence to that Government that hee hath not had a voice to putt himself

under (The Clarke Papers, ed. C. H. Firth. London, 1992, p. 301).

Engraving of the quotation from Thomas Rainsborough in St Mary’s Church, Putney. Image from Wikimedia Commons.

In those debates the alternative view was expressed by Colonel Henry Ireton (Oliver Cromwell's son-in-law) who insisted that only those with landed property should be allowed to vote, since only they had a fixed interest in the country and could, therefore, be trusted to make decisions in the common good. The SCI turned Ireton's assumption on its head, insisting:

The poor man has an equal right, but more need, to have representatives in the

legislature than the rich one (An Address to the Public, p. 7).

The third demand made by the SCI was for more frequent - ideally annual - parliaments. Major Cartwright's Declaration asserted it is 'the right of the Commonalty of this Realm to elect a new House of Commons once in every year, according to ancient and sacred laws of the land' (Cartwright, A Declaration, p. 2). If elections were held less frequently, he argued, those people who had recently arrived in an area would be deprived of their right. Moreover, longer parliaments would be more susceptible to corruption and undue influence.

Once again the roots of this concern can be found in the seventeenth century. Between 1629 and 1640 Charles I ruled without calling parliament. In theory there was nothing wrong with this since it was up to the monarch to call Parliament when (s)he wanted (usually when they needed money). But Charles's behaviour prompted anger and when Parliament met in 1640 one of the first actions it took was to institute a Triennial Act which required Parliament to be called at least once every three years. Some at the time felt that even this did not go far enough and called for annual parliaments as a crucial mechanism to mitigate the corrupting effects of power. As John Streater explained:

A Free State, governed by Annual Representatives, is Naturally good, it cannot be bad;

for that no one can obtain in such a Government opportunity to do Hurt: and it

behoveth every one of them to do all the good they can, in regard that they must

Return to a private state and Condition, in which they shall participate and be

sharers of the good they have procured, or been parties in ordaining (J. S. [John

Streater], A Shield Against the Parthian Dart. London, 1659, pp. 16-17).

If we compare the SCI demands to how things are today, we see that one demand - universal manhood suffrage - has not only been achieved, but surpassed. Today it is not only adult men who have the vote, but women too. This is especially interesting given that this was seen as the most extreme demand in the eighteenth century and one that not all supporters of reform at that time were willing to endorse. A second demand - an equal distribution of parliamentary seats - is recognised as important and the distribution is continually updated. A local election leaflet that came through my front door this week explains:

Following a review by the Boundary Commissions, changes have been made in the

coming elections for electing your Ward Councillors and member of Parliament

(MP). The changes aim to rebalance the number of electors in each area and ensure

that they are represented effectively by the candidates you elect.

Yet the third demand - annual parliaments - has neither been put into practice, nor is widely advocated today. There are, perhaps, good reasons for this, in that annual elections would be costly and would risk encouraging even greater short-termism in politics than is currently the case. On the other hand, as the Streater quotation suggests, more frequent elections would ensure that MPs have to live under the laws they make and would strengthen the sense of their accountability to their constituents. It would also ensure that whatever is decided in the next few months, my son wouldn't have to wait another five years before being able to express his political voice in a General Election.

The Swinish Multitude

In his influential and prescient early assessment of the French Revolution, Reflections on the Revolution in France, Edmund Burke revealed his contempt for ordinary people - describing them as a 'swinish multitude' and, in the eyes of some, questioning their right to education. If the natural social hierarchy was challenged, Burke argued - 'learning', together with its natural protectors and guardians the nobility and the clergy would be 'cast into the mire and trodden down under the hoofs of a swinish multitude' (Edmund Burke, Reflections on the Revolution in France. 8th edition. London, 1791, p. 117). The phrase hit a chord. As this Google Ngram illustrates, there was a huge spike in its usage following the publication of Burke's text, and it continued to be deployed well into the nineteenth century. The popularity and persistence of the phrase prompts several questions. Where did Burke get the idea from? What was the response to it? And why did it continue to be used for so long?

The origins of the phrase can be traced back to the Bible. In the Sermon on the Mount as recorded in Matthew Chapter 7 Verse 6, Jesus declared:

Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet and turn again and rend you (King James Bible).

‘A Swinish Multitude’, by John (‘HB’) Doyle, printed by Alfred Duôte, published by Thomas McLean. Lithograph. 7 October 1835. National Portrait Gallery: NPG D41349. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

The reference not just to pigs, but also to trampling good things under foot, makes clear that this was the source of Burke's phrase (interestingly the conceit also appears in William Langland's poem 'Piers Plowman' and in John Milton's 'Sonnet XII', where the 'hogs' are condemned for failing to properly understand the nature of liberty). Moreover, the notion of 'pearls of wisdom' enhances the connection with learning. Burke's opponents in the 1790s were quick to subvert his jibe and turn it to their advantage.

Early responses simply expressed hostility to Burke's sentiment. As, for example, William Belsham's reference in one of his Essays, philosophical, historical and literary of 1791 and Charlotte Smith's in her novel Desmond. Commenting on the calmness of the French people on the King's return to Paris Lionel Desmond asserts, in a vein that perhaps also alludes and responds to Milton's use of the term:

This will surely convince the world, that the bloody democracy of Mr Burke, is not a combination of the swinish multitude, for the purposes of anarchy, but the association of reasonable beings, who determine to be, and deserve to be, free. (Charlotte Smith, Desmond. A novel, in three volumes. London, 1792, Volume 3, p. 89).

Around the same time there appeared a song entitled 'Burke's Address to the "swinish" Multitude', to be sung to the tune 'Derry, down down', which satirised  Burke's position.

More substantial responses to Burke's argument about learning also began to appear. One of the earliest of these was A reply to Mr Burke's invective by the radical Thomas Cooper. Cooper was defending himself and his associate James Watt against an attack made by Burke in Parliament on 30 April 1792 concerning their presentation to the Jacobins on behalf of the Constitutional Society of Manchester. In the course of his defence, Cooper reflected on the relationship between knowledge and freedom. He condemned Burke for presenting national ignorance as a means of maintaining the position of the privileged orders and called instead for the dissemination of political knowledge so that the people could understand and secure their rights and freedoms:

Thus we find that public Ignorance is the Cement of the far famed Alliance between Church and State; and that Imposture, political and religious, cannot maintain its ground, if Knowledge and Discussion once finds its way among the Swinish Multitude. (Thomas Cooper, A Reply to Mr Burke's Invective. Manchester, 1792, p. 36).

Portrait of Thomas Cooper by Asher Brown Durand, after Charles Cromwell Ingham. Line engraving, 1829. National Portait Gallery: NPG D10570. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

This whole section of Cooper's work was inserted, unacknowledged, into the Address published by the Birmingham Constitutional Society soon after its establishment in November 1792. This is perhaps not surprising since the raison d'etre of these societies was precisely to spread political knowledge, and it was partly the actions of the London Society for Constitutional Information (alongside those of the Revolution Society) that had provoked Burke in the first place.

Around the same time, works began to appear that were presented as being written by 'one of the "Swinish Multitude"'. One of these was entitled A Rod for the Burkites. It was printed in Manchester and perhaps again emerged from the circles around the Constitutional Society. Sonnet for the Fast-Day. To Sancho's Favourite Tune by one of the swinish multitude was another satirical song to the tune 'Derry, down, down'. James Parkinson, writing under the pseudonym Old Hubert, published An Address, to the Hon. Edmund Burke, from the Swinish Multitude in 1793. Parkinson, a successful palaeontologist and surgeon who gave his name to Parkinson's Disease, was also an active radical with a sharp concern for the poor. Parkinson's Address argued that since men are all alike, they must all be swinelike. The difference, then, was between 'Hogs of Quality' who enjoy the luxuries of the stye and the poor swinish multitude who have to work hard to survive and are obstructed at every turn:

Whilst ye are chewing the greatest dainties, and gorging yourselves at troughs filled with the daintiest wash; we, with our numerous train of porkers, are employed, from the rising to the setting sun, to obtain the means of subsistence, by turning up a stray root or two, or perhaps, picking up a few acorns. But, alas! of these we dare not partake, untill, by the laws made by ye Swine of quality, we have first deposited by far the greatest part in the store house of the stye, as rent for the light of heaven and for the air we breathe. (James Parkinson, An Address, to the Hon. Edmund Burke, from the Swinish Multitude. London, 1793, pp. 17-18).

Moreover, Parkinson also argued that keeping the poor ignorant was a deliberate means of keeping them down:

it would be no more than justice, if these lordly Swine would enable us to instruct our young, so that they might be capable of comprehending the innumerable laws which are laid down for their conduct; and which should, they, even through ignorance, transgress, they are sure immediately to be sent to the county pound, or perhaps delivered over to the butcher. (Parkinson, Address, p. 19).

Title page of Spence’s Pigs’ Meat. Philip Robinson Library, Newcastle University. Special Collections: Rare Books (RB 331.04 PIG). Reproduced with kind permission.

A further move by the radicals built on this point. In September 1793 two new periodical publications appeared that again commandeered the porcine language on the part of the poor. Thomas Spence's One Pennyworth of Pigs' Meat; or, Lessons for the Swinish Multitude was swiftly followed by Daniel Isaac Eaton's Hog's Wash; or, a Salmagundy for Swine (subsequently retitled Politics for the People). These works not only spoke to and on behalf of the so-called 'swinish multitude', as Parkinson had done, but were designed to provide them with useful political knowledge. They offered short extracts from a range of texts that were 'Intended' as Spence explained:

To promote among the Labouring Part of Mankind proper Ideas of their Situation, of their Importance and of their Rights, and to convince them That their forlorn Condition has not been entirely overlooked and forgotten nor their just Cause unpleaded, neither by their Maker nor by the best and most enlightened of Men in all Ages. (Thomas Spence, Pigs' Meat, title page).

Similarly, the full title of Eaton's publication explained that it consisted:

Of the choicest Viands, contributed by the Cooks of the present day, AND of the highest flavoured delicacies, composed by the Caterers of former Ages. (Daniel Isaac Eaton, Hog's Wash, 1793).

Title page of Eaton’s Politics for the People. Philip Robinson Library, Newcastle University. Special Collections: Friends (Friends 336-337). Reproduced with kind permission.

The extracts presented for the enrichment of the swinish multitude were eclectic. They included passages from: popular radical authors of the day such as William Frend, Joel Barlow, and John Thelwall; previous generations of radicals including John Trenchard and Thomas Gordon, James Harrington and Algernon Sidney; but also more mainstream authors like Jonathan Swift, John Locke and Samuel Pufendorf. Moreover, the Bible was also a fundamental source for both editors, with quotes from various books of the Old and New Testaments being deployed to demonstrate that God favoured support for, rather than oppression of, the poor.

Though politically they were polar opposites Spence and Eaton endorsed what they saw as Burke's sense of the connection between ignorance and oppression and, therefore, between knowledge and resistance. Their hope was Burke's fear; that by providing the poor with political nourishment - feeding their minds as well as their bodies - they would be led to see and acknowledge both the oppression under which they suffered and the justice of their right to overthrow it. This, it was hoped, would provoke them into action. It did not, of course, but both the hope and the fear remain to this day.

Political Legacies

For personal reasons the commemoration of the dead, and the legacies they leave to those who remain, have been on my mind recently. Though inheritance is usually assumed to refer to money, I am much more interested in the ideas, practices, and values that the dead bequeath to the living. Thomas Hollis is a particularly interesting case when it comes to legacies of both kinds.

Thomas Hollis by Giovanni Battista Ciprani, etching 1767. National Portrait Gallery NPG D46108. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

In my last blogpost I referred to the donation of approximately 3,000 books that Hollis sent to Harvard College in Massachusetts. Partly in recognition of this, the catalogue of the current Harvard University Library is called HOLLIS - a reference to the donations provided by the family and a convenient acronym for Harvard Online Library Information System. Hollis was not the first of his family (nor even the first with his name) to make donations to Harvard. His great grandfather - also called Thomas Hollis - founded several posts at Harvard which still bear his name, and was commemorated in a hall on campus and a street in the area.

Like his great grandfather Hollis had no children. Yet instead of passing on his inheritance via different family lines, as previous generations had done, Hollis chose to leave his own substantial fortune to his friend Thomas Brand, who subsequently styled himself Thomas Brand Hollis in recognition of the legacy.

Thomas Brand was born in Essex around 1719 (Colin Bonwick, 'Hollis, Thomas Brand, c.1719-1804, radical.' Oxford Dictionary of National Biography). Being from a dissenting family he could not attend an English University and so studied at Glasgow where he was taught by the great Francis Hutcheson and became friends with Hollis's future collaborator Richard Baron. Brand and Hollis are said to have met at the inns of court in London in the 1740s. They travelled around Europe together in 1748-9.

Hollis had always been keen to support Scottish institutions. In addition to the bequest in his will of books for Scottish University libraries, he also made donations to the Advocates Library in Edinburgh, including this copy of Henry Neville’s Plato Redivivus, or a dialogue concerning government (London, 1763). National Library of Scotland ([AD]7/1.8). It is reproduced here under a Creative Commons Licence with permission from the Library.

When Thomas Hollis died in 1774 Thomas Brand, whom Hollis described as 'my dear friend and fellow traveller', was named sole executor of his will and inherited his lands and the residue of his personal estate (The National Archives: PROB 11/994/68 'The Will of Thomas Hollis of Lincoln's Inn'). Hollis insisted on a private and modest funeral and, as was conventional, left small donations to the poor in the parishes near to his Dorset estate and money to various servants, family members, and friends, as well as to book binders, engravers, and printers with whom he had worked during his life. Hollis also continued his family's philanthropic traditions as well as those he had established during his lifetime. He pledged £300 to rebuild the almshouses that had been constructed by his great grandfather in Sheffield and £100 to the Society for Promoting Arts and Commerce in London. He also left money to be spent on books 'relating to Government or to civil or natural history or to ... Mathematics' for the university libraries at Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen, St Andrews and Dublin, as well as for the public library at Berne and the university library at Geneva, in addition to a larger donation for Harvard.

Canaletto (Giovanni Antonio Canal), A View of Walton Bridge, 1754, oil on canvas, 48.7 x 76.4 cm, DPG600. Dulwich Picture Gallery, London. With thanks to curator Lucy West for her assistance. This painting was commissioned by Thomas Hollis. It depicts Hollis himself (in the yellow coat) and his friend Thomas Brand.

As well as enacting these bequests, Thomas Brand also advanced Hollis's legacy in other ways. The two men shared a dissenting background and a commitment to political radicalism and reform. Brand Hollis was a member of several reform societies including the Revolution Society established in 1788 and the Society for Constitutional Information (SCI). He was a founder member of the SCI attending its first meeting in April 1780, often chairing sessions, and being elected President in December of that year (The National Archives: TS 11/1133).

In its purpose and activities the SCI echoed and extended Hollis's campaign to disseminate political texts and share political information. Hollis had sent copies of a wide range of works to university and public libraries in many countries. As I noted in my last blogpost, he paid particular attention to North America where his donations were explicitly designed to influence how the colonists interpreted the actions of the British government against them. In short, Hollis appears to have been seeking to rouse the Harvard students to revolutionary action by providing them with specific reading material on the nature of their rights as Englishmen and the threats posed to those rights - and therefore to their liberty - by the actions of the British government towards them. The SCI also disseminated political texts for free, this time in England. Its aim in doing so was to promote and eventually bring about political reform. The terms in which this aim was expressed were very similar to those used by Hollis in relation to the American colonists:

As every Englishman has an equal inheritance in this Liberty; and in those Laws

and that Constitution which have been provided for its defence; it is therefore

necessary that every Englishman should know what the Constitution IS; when it is

SAFE; and when ENDANGERED (An address to the public, from the Society for

Constitutional Information. London, 1780, p. 1).

There was also a similarity in the particular texts thought worthy of dissemination. At a meeting on 12th May 1780, at which Brand Hollis was present, the Society resolved to task one of its members, Capel Lofft, to:

compile a Tract or Tracts, consisting of Extracts from the

Mirror of Justices, Fleta, Bracton, Fortesquieu, Selden, Bacon,

Sir Thomas Smith, Coke, Sidney, Milton, Harrington, Nevile,

Molesworth, Bolingbroke, Price, Priestly, Blackstone, Somers,

Davenant, the Essay on the English Constitution, and other Authors

as may clearly define, or describe in few Words the English

Constitution (The National Archives: TS 11/1133).

With just two exceptions (Sir Thomas Smith and Charles Davenant), works by all of these authors had been sent by Hollis to Harvard.

As well as disseminating the texts free of charge, both Hollis and the SCI used newspapers and periodicals to advertise them and their relevance to contemporary affairs. In April 1766 Hollis inserted the following advert into the London Chronicle to alert the Corsican rebels who were drawing up a new constitution for the island - and more especially their British supporters - of the potential a particular English republican text offered them in their endeavour.

TO THE PEOPLE OF CORSICA

      FELICITY

"The Oceana of James Harrington, for practicable-

ness, equality and completeness, is the most perfect

model of a Commonwealth, that ever was delineated

by antient or modern pen (The London Chronicle, 10 April 1766).

John Somers, Baron Somers by Sir Godfrey Kneller, Bt. c.1705. National Portrait Gallery NPG 490. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

In the same vein, from Spring 1782, members of the SCI began inserting extracts from key texts into the General Advertiser. These included extracts selected by Brand Hollis from a work by John Somers, first Baron Somers (1651-1716), a notable Whig and one time Lord Chancellor. The extracts, which appeared in the General Advertiser on Monday 18 March 1782, concerned the limits of the ruler's powers and the rights of the people. Somers argued that a sovereign who invades or subverts the fundamental laws of society gives up his legal right to govern and absolves his subjects of obedience. Citing the popular phrase asserting the rights of the people salus populi, he claimed that all law and government is aimed at the public good and therefore: 'A just Governor, for the benefit of the people, is more careful of the public good and welfare, than of his own private advantage.' 'He who makes himself above all law, is no Member of a Commonwealth, but a mere tyrant whenever he pleases' and under such a magistrate the people would be justified in exercising a right of resistance. Though probably originally written in the context of the Glorious Revolution, these sentiments were meaningful to those engaged in the reform campaign and perhaps designed as a warning to George III.

There is one final more frivolous way in which Brand Hollis continued his friend's legacy. Hollis had had a curious habit of naming fields and farms on his Dorset estate at Corscombe and Halstock after thinkers, works, and places he respected. In July 1773 Hollis noted in a letter that he had named a small farm on his estate after George Buchanan 'this oldest son of liberty' (Caroline Robbins, 'Thomas Hollis in His Dorsetshire Retirement' in Absolute Liberty, ed. Barbara Taft. 1982, p. 240). Another farm of 247 acres was named after James Harrington and on that farm was a field he called Oceana after Harrington's most famous work. To the west of Harrington Farm was another called Milton Farm after John Milton, which included a field named after John Toland - who had edited both Milton's and Harrington's works. Also in the vicinity were farms named for other leading English republicans: Algernon Sidney, Edmund Ludlow, and Henry Neville.

Dorset History Centre, D1_MO_3 Plan of Harrington Farm from the Corscombe Estate Map. With thanks to the Dorset History Centre for assistance and permission.

We know that Brand Hollis was aware of Hollis's actions in this regard since a survey of the estate that Brand Hollis conducted in 1799, now held at Dorset History Centre, details the names of the various farms and fields.

Brand Hollis not only maintained and memorialised Hollis's nomenclature on his Dorset estate, he also engaged in the same practice himself - naming trees on his property at Hyde in Essex after George Washington and other heroes of the American Revolution (Bonwick, ODNB). To my mind, legacies of place names, book collections, and the values of kindness and generosity, are far more meaningful and enduring than any financial bequest - even from someone with as extensive a fortune as Thomas Hollis.

Launching Experiencing Political Texts

The way we consume news and political information is changing. A survey of 50,000 people in 2016 concluded that social media had taken over from television as the main source of news for people aged 18-24 and another published just a couple of weeks ago came to the same conclusion regarding 11-16 year olds. Similarly, research conducted in 2019 found that under 35s tend to use their smartphone (rather than print media, radio, television, or computer) to access the news, and that those in the 18-24 category rely on social media rather than news apps for their political information. While the majority of those asked in all age groups still tend to consume news in the form of written text, there is a growing appetite (especially among younger groups) for visual content including video and graphic storytelling.

This is thought to be an image of Major John Cartwright by Henry Fuseli, c. 1779. National Portrait Gallery NPG 4538. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence. Cartwright was a founder member of the Society for Constitutional Information and a driving force behind its establishment.

Innovation in the formats in which political information is presented to - and consumed by the public - is not a new phenomenon. Early modern Britain was a period of experimentation in this regard. The Society for Constitutional Information, established in April 1780, was concerned precisely with making political information accessible to new audiences. The organisation sought to diffuse knowledge of the British constitution 'throughout the realm', 'through every village and hamlet' even 'into the humble dwelling of the cottager' (An Address to the Public, from the Society for Constitutional Information. London 1780, p. 1). To this end they printed and disseminated for free a variety of works on British institutions and politics. Moreover, from the outset the members paid particular attention to the format in which their works were printed, declaring explicitly:

That Small Pica be the Type to be used in the Pamphlets and Tracts to be printed by

the Society; that Duodecimo be the Size of the Page; and that Demy Paper not

exceeding Thirteen Shillings and Six Pence a Ream, be employed in the several

Works to be printed. (The National Archives: TS 11/1133).

The title page and frontispiece image of Eikon Basilike (1649). Reproduced, with permission, from the copy held in Special Collections at the Robinson Library, Newcastle. Kieper (K942.062 CHA). This is a good example of an early modern text that used literary techniques and the materiality of the text (including the interaction of text and image) to convey its message.

Like tech companies today, members of the Society knew that making key political information easily accessible was key and that the medium in which it was delivered was as important as the message itself. This was true of early modern authors more generally. They used an array of literary strategies to entice readers in, exploited the material form of the works they produced, and paid attention to their circulation. One reason they did so was that they were concerned not merely to inform their readers but to encourage them to think about and engage with the issues under discussion - and even to stimulate them into action. The Society for Constitutional Information disseminated political texts in order to increase the number of people campaigning for the reform of political institutions. By educating British people on the constitution they hoped to stimulate them to take political action; to demand their rights and bring about a transformation of what they saw as an outdated and corrupt political system.

The 'Experiencing Political Texts' project that launches on 3 July seeks to explore this crucial relationship between medium and message in greater depth. By examining the methods used by early modern political authors to engage their audiences, and analysing how effective they were at achieving their ends, we hope to draw various conclusions. In the first place we will have a better understanding of how to read those texts - and how best to present them to modern audiences - whether via library catalogues or in modern editions. In addition, we will also advance our thinking on how best to disseminate political information and to stimulate calls to action in the twenty-first century - and even how to generate an engaged and active citizenry.

At the heart of the project will be a network comprising various groups. In the first place there will be humanities scholars from a range of disciplines with expertise in complementary approaches and skills. We will also involve library and archive professionals with experience of presenting early modern political texts to wider audiences, and digital humanities experts and software developers with the technical skills to think about digital representations. Finally we hope to recruit citizens of Newcastle and the surrounding area with a particular interest in the dissemination of political ideas and information.

Members of these different constituencies will gather together for three workshops. The first, to be held in Newcastle on 7th and 8th September 2022, will focus on the use of genre and form in early modern political texts and the ways in which authors sought to stimulate active political engagement by sparking their readers' imagination or provoking debate. The second, which will take place in York in early 2023, will explore the materiality of early modern texts, the other material objects associated with them, and the connections between these and the practical culture of political clubs. The final workshop, scheduled for September 2023 in Newcastle, will explore how the literary and material dimensions of early modern political texts can be effectively presented to audiences via library catalogues, exhibitions, and editions, as well as the issues raised by digital presentation.

Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society where the Reading Group will meet. Image Rachel Hammersley.

Also central to the project will be a monthly reading group that will meet at the Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society on the second Tuesday of each month from October 2022 through to June 2023. Members of the group will read and discuss short extracts from key early modern political texts, as well as being encouraged to reflect on their own engagement with and consumption of political information. Discussions will be recorded through visual live scribing providing the opportunity to track changes in thought among the group and a means by which the ideas they explore can feed directly into other elements of the project - including the workshops and exhibitions.

The National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh, where one of the exhibitions relating to the project will be held. Image Rachel Hammersley.

The project will culminate with two public exhibitions, one at Newcastle University's Robinson Library and the other at the National Library of Scotland in Edinburgh, at which our key findings will be presented and explored. The exhibitions will focus on comparing original print editions of early modern political texts with modern print and digital versions to encourage thinking around the relative merits of different forms and how the manner in which we receive our political information impacts on our understanding and interpretation of that information. Workshops accompanying the exhibition at the National Library of Scotland will explore the implications of our findings for different groups such as activists or school children.

Of course it is not simply a case of disseminating political information in ways that are appealing and accessible to audiences. The medium also shapes the content. The report on the 2016 study cited above notes the ways in which social media can manipulate the news offering. Stories may be one-sided, biased, or even fake, and targeted to individual readers' existing interests and opinions. Despite this, in the most recent survey, 47% of the 11-16 year olds asked, said that they trust the news they see on social media and that they have more faith in social influencers than politicians to tell them the truth about the news. Moreover, today on social media political information is generally consumed in paragraph-sized chunks or even just headlines - with most readers not digging more deeply to understand the full story. There is, perhaps, a danger that our modern methods of political communication far from generating engaged and active citizens produce passive news consumers instead.

Experiencing Political Texts 6: Materiality

We currently find ourselves on a cusp with regard to the materiality of texts. Print copies are still common, but digital editions and open access publishing are on the rise. Yet, for now, the conventions of print tend to provide the framework for digital editions with an emphasis on recreating the look and experience of reading a printed book (for example with 'Turning the Pages' technology) rather than exploring the new possibilities that digital editions might offer.

Despite his experimental use of genre and the blending of fact and fiction, the physical format of Yanis Varoufakis's book Another Now, which I have discussed in previous blogposts in this series, is relatively conventional. It is available in hardback, paperback, as an audio download, and in e-book form with the last of these merely comprising a digital version of the print copy. However, Varoufakis does acknowledge potential innovations in future in his description of what happens when the narrator Yango Varo first opens Iris's diary:

Two red arrows filled my vision as my hybrid-reality contact lenses detected audio-visual content in the diary and kicked in. Instinctively I gestured to switch off my haptic interface and slammed the book shut. Costa had explicitly instructed me to set up the dampening field device before opening the diary. Chastened by my failure to do so, I went to fetch it. Only once the device was on the desk, humming away reassuringly, was I able to delve into Iris's memories in that rarest of conditions - privacy. (Yanis Varoufakis, Another Now: Dispatches from an Alternative Present. London: Bodley Head, 2019, p. 5).

Title page of Toland and Darby’s edition of The Oceana of James Harrington. Reproduced from the copy at the Robinson Library Newcastle University, BRAD 321 07-TP. I am grateful to the Library staff for allowing me to reproduce the work here.

I have already touched on the materiality of early modern texts in previous blogposts (January 2021, September 2020), but there is more to explore. One area of interest is the way in which the material or physical form of a text was deliberately designed to engage a specific audience. During the eighteenth century the English republican works first published during the mid-seventeenth century were directed, in successive waves, at different audiences and the physical format of those editions varied accordingly. 

Many of the original English republican texts published during the mid to late seventeenth century had been relatively small, cheap editions. When John Toland and John Darby decided to reprint these works at the turn of the eighteenth century, they deliberately reproduced them as lavish folio editions. We know from personal correspondence that they took care to use high quality paper and the title pages often include words in red type, which was more expensive. The size and quality of these volumes makes clear that they were aimed at a high-status audience - particularly members of the political elite. They were destined for their own private libraries or those used by them. While in one sense this was exclusionary - putting these works (and the ideas contained within them) beyond the means of ordinary citizens - there was a positive reason for doing so. Toland and Darby were keen to make clear that, although these texts had been published in the midst of the chaos of the civil war and interregnum, they remained of interest - and of relevance to those in government - even after the restoration of 1660. These works were not mere ephemera, but were of lasting significance and continued relevance in the eighteenth century even though England was no longer ruled as a republic.

Binding of Thomas Hollis’s edition of Harrington’s works. From Houghton Library, Harvard University. HOU GEN *EC65.H2381 656c (B) Lobby IV.2.18. I am grateful to the Houghton Library for giving me permission to reproduce this and to Dr Mark Somos for his assistance.

Thomas Hollis was aware of Toland's publishing campaign and built his own on its foundations. He republished many of the same texts, and again did so in the form of lavish folio volumes with expensive bindings. Hollis commissioned the Italian engraver Giovanni Cipriani to produce portraits of the authors to preface the volumes and to design little emblems that could be embossed onto the front as a key to the nature of the work inside. However, Hollis's dissemination strategy was aimed less at the private libraries of the elite and instead at institutional libraries - public libraries such as those established in cities like Leiden in the United Provinces and Bern in Switzerland, but also the libraries of educational establishments such as Christ's College Cambridge and, most famously, Harvard in the United States. This suggests that Hollis's target audience was less the current political elite than that of the future. His aim was to educate the next generation - especially in America where, from the 1760s, a crisis was brewing.

The American Revolution, when it came, had a significant impact on both sides of the Atlantic. The slogan 'no taxation without representation' flagged up political inequalities in Britain and provided fuel for the incipient reform movement. To further the cause of reform, the Society for Constitutional Information (SCI) was established in 1774. Its main mode of operation was to print cheap copies of political texts which were disseminated freely. In particular, members of the SCI believed it necessary to educate the people on the nature of the British constitution. As the Address to the Public, published in 1780, explained

John Jebb, one of the founder members of the Society for Constitutional Information. Portrait by Charles Knight, 1782. National Portrait Gallery NPG D10782. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

As every Englishman has an equal inheritance in this Liberty; and in those Laws and that Constitution which have been provided for its defence; it is therefore necessary that every Englishman should know what the Constitution IS; when it is SAFE; and when ENDANGERED (An Address to the public, from the Society for Constitutional Information. London, 1780, p. 1).

The Society focused on printing works that contributed towards this mission, stating that:

To diffuse this knowledge universally throughout the realm, to circulate it through every village and hamlet, and even to introduce it into the humble dwelling of the cottager, is the wish and hope of this Society.

Consequently, the SCI disseminated works such as Obidiah Hulme's Historical Essay on the English Constitution, but also extracts from older works that spoke to these issues. Yet, as the statement of intent makes clear, the Society aimed to disseminate political works not simply among an elite, as their predecessors had done, but throughout the population. This, it was believed, was the best means of awakening people to their rights and thereby furthering the case for the reform of Parliament.

The SCI continued to function into the 1790s and was, therefore, well placed to capitalise on further calls for reform sparked by the outbreak of the Revolution in France in 1789. In this febrile atmosphere, others took up the cause of educating the ordinary people about their rights by making available to them important political texts from past and present.

Spence token advertising Pig’s Meat. Reproduced from Wikimedia Commons.

In 1793 the Newcastle-born radical Thomas Spence published the first issue of a weekly publication entitled Pig's Meat; or, Lessons for the Swinish Multitude, which printed extracts from political texts including from works that had been republished by Toland and Darby or Hollis. The title was a reference to Edmund Burke's derisory comment in Reflections on the Revolution in France which referred to the ordinary people as swine. Spence's publication cost just 1 penny, making it affordable even for those who were relatively poor, and as he explained on the title page, his aim was 'To promote among the Labouring Part of Mankind proper Ideas of their Situation, of their Importance, and of their Rights. AND TO CONVINCE THEM That their Forlorn Condition has not been entirely overlooked and forgotten, nor their just Cause unpleased, neither by their Maker nor by the best and most enlightened of Men in all Ages.' Alongside his Pig's Meat publications, Spence engaged in other means of spreading political ideas including writing works of his own and producing and disseminating tokens.

What is the relevance of all this? First, it reminds us that it is not just the content of political works that matters, but also the form in which they are printed, and the way they are disseminated and read. Literary critics like George Bornstein, inspired by Jean Genet and Jerome McGann, have been making this point for some time. But it has yet to fully penetrate the historical investigation of political texts. Secondly, the attempt by authors, editors and reformers to reach ever wider sections of the population during the course of the eighteenth century is striking. It reveals the importance of politics to eighteenth-century British society and the firm belief (at least on the part of some) that political education could and would bring political reform. Is there, I wonder, the same appetite for political knowledge today? What kind of publications would best attract twenty-first century audiences? And what kinds of reform might they propose?