it goes somewhat beyond the strict theory of the constitution.
Undoubtedly that theory is, that the minister chosen
by the King is himself responsible for every circumstance
or act which led to his appointment. This principle
was established in the fullest manner in 1834, when,
as will be seen hereafter, Sir Robert Peel admitted
his entire responsibility for the dismissal of Lord
Melbourne by King William iv., though it was
notorious that he was in Italy at the time, and had
not been consulted on the matter. But as yet
such questions had not been as accurately examined
as subsequent events caused them to be; and Wilkes’s
assertion of royal responsibility to this extent probably
coincided with the general feeling on the subject.[6]
At all events, the error contained in it, and the
insinuation that due wisdom and judgment had not been
displayed in the appointment of Mr. G. Grenville to
the Treasury, were not so derogatory to the legitimate
authority and dignity of the crown as to make the
writer a fit subject for a criminal prosecution.
But Mr. Grenville was of a bitter temper, never inclined
to tolerate any strictures on his own judgment or
capacity, and fully imbued with the conviction that
the first duty of an English minister is to uphold
the supreme authority of the Parliament, and to chastise
any one who dares to call in question the wisdom of
any one of its resolutions. But The North
Briton had done this, and more. No. 45 had
not only denounced the treaty which both Houses had
approved, but had insinuated in unmistakable language
that their approval had been purchased by gross corruption
(a fact which was, indeed, sufficiently notorious).
And, consequently, Mr. Grenville determined to treat
the number which contained the denunciation as a seditious
libel, the publication of which was a criminal offence;
and, by his direction, Lord Halifax, as Secretary
of State, issued what was termed a general warrant—a
warrant, that is, which did not name the person or
persons against whom it was directed, but which commanded
the apprehension of “the authors, printers,
and publishers” of the offending paper, leaving
the officers who were charged with its execution to
decide who came under that description, or, in other
words, who were guilty of the act charged, before
they had been brought before any tribunal. The
warrant was executed. Wilkes and some printers
were apprehended; Wilkes himself, as if the minister’s
design had been to make the charge ridiculous by exaggeration,
being consigned to the great state-prison of the Tower,
such a use of which was generally limited to those
impeached of high-treason. And, indeed, the commitment
did declare that No. 45 of The North Briton
was “a libel tending to alienate the affections
of the people from his Majesty, and to excite them
to traitorous insurrections against the government.”
Wilkes instantly sued out a writ of habeas corpus,
and was without hesitation released by the Court of
Common Pleas, on the legal ground that, “as a
member of the House of Commons, he was protected from
arrest in all cases except treason, felony, or a breach
of the peace;” a decision which, in the next
session of Parliament, the minister endeavored to
overbear by inducing both Houses to concur in a resolution
that “privilege of Parliament did not extend
to the case of publishing seditious libels.”