[Youth, pseud., An address to the London Corresponding Society, held at the Crown and Anchor Tavern, Strand, Monday, July 8, 1793; being an answer to a pamphlet entitled An Address to the Nation, on the Subject of a Thorough Parliamentary Reform, &c. (1793)

Author(s):  
Michael T. Davis ◽  
James Epstein ◽  
Jack Fruchttnan ◽  
Mary Thale
2002 ◽  
Vol 34 (1) ◽  
pp. 37-57 ◽  
Author(s):  
Benjamin Weinstein

In early November 1790, Edmund Burke noted the existence in England of “several petty cabals, who attempt to hide their total want of consequence in bustle and noise, and puffing, and mutual quotation of each other.” Burke's observation both informed and amused conservative opinion, but its condescension masked the seriousness of the situation that it described. Throughout Britain men were assembling into societies organized in celebration of French liberty and motivated by the prospect of parliamentary reform at home. While it was true that the leading members of these clubs sometimes indulged in “puffing” and “mutual quotation,” their commitment to reform was nevertheless deeply held. Joseph Priestley, for one, sacrificed his home, his laboratory, and nearly his life in defense of the cause; Maurice Margarot, Joseph Gerrald, and Thomas Muir sacrificed their freedom; sadly, Thomas Hardy sacrificed his wife and unborn child. For their equally obstinate devotion to reform, the Revolution Society, which took its name in commemoration of the Glorious Revolution rather than in envy of the French uprising, and the Society for Constitutional Information, a longtime reform leader reinvigorated after the fall of the ancien régime, became the objects of Burke's ridicule. But in his conviction that “contemptuous neglect” was the best method by which to defeat the “vanity, petulance, and spirit of intrigue” displayed by these societies, Burke exposed an embarrassing improvidence. For if, as he claimed, these associations were “inconsequential” in their own conduct, their agitation would eventually prompt the emergence of a new generation of populous and, therefore, menacing societies. By spring 1794, neither Burke nor Pitt would be able to ignore the reformers any longer. What were once “petty” had become “the mother of all mischief.”


1988 ◽  
Vol 31 (1) ◽  
pp. 83-115 ◽  
Author(s):  
Paul Langford

The representative credentials of the unreformed parliament are a subject of enduring historical interest. It is not surprising that much of that interest has focused on the electoral basis of the house of commons. From the beginnings of an organized movement for parliamentary reform and the first systematic investigations of the subject, criticism fastened on the anomalies and inequities of a manifestly outdated franchise. Modern scholarship, emancipated from the bias of whig history, has been less harsh in its judgement, but equally preoccupied with elections and the electorate. Successive studies have demonstrated the vitality of popular electoral politics not merely in the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, before the onset of so-called oligarchy, but even in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, when contemporary criticism was at its height.1 One of the unintended consequences of this successful search for the politics of participation has been a tendency to divert attention from the actual working of parliament, except in terms of those periodic crises, and great national issues, which were of manifest importance in the party politics of the day. Yet parliament in the eighteenth century concerned itself with an extraordinary variety of topics, and burdened itself with a remarkable quantity of business. After the revolution of 1688 it met annually for long, and lengthening sessions. It increasingly involved itself in the operations of government and played an ever more important part in the making and revision of law.


Sign in / Sign up

Export Citation Format

Share Document