The government, provoked and alarmed by the virulence of the Jacobite pamphleteers, determined to make Anderton an example.  He was indicted for high treason, and brought to the bar of the Old Bailey.  Treby, now Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, and Powell, who had honourably distinguished himself on the day of the trial of the bishops, were on the Bench.  It is unfortunate that no detailed report of the evidence has come down to us, and that we are forced to content ourselves with such fragments of information as can be collected from the contradictory narratives of writers evidently partial, intemperate and dishonest.  The indictment, however, is extant; and the overt acts which it imputes to the prisoner undoubtedly amount to high treason.457 To exhort the subjects of the realm to rise up and depose the King by force, and to add to that exhortation the expression, evidently ironical, of a hope that it may not be necessary to inflict on him any evil worse than banishment, is surely an offence which the least courtly lawyer will admit to be within the scope of the statute of Edward the Third.  On this point indeed there seems to have been no dispute, either at the trial or subsequently.

The prisoner denied that he had printed the libels.  On this point it seems reasonable that, since the evidence has not come down to us, we should give credit to the judges and the jury who heard what the witnesses had to say.

One argument with which Anderton had been furnished by his advisers, and which, in the Jacobite pasquinades of that time, is represented as unanswerable, was that, as the art of printing had been unknown in the reign of Edward the Third, printing could not be an overt act of treason under a statute of that reign.  The judges treated this argument very lightly; and they were surely justified in so treating it.  For it is an argument which would lead to the conclusion that it could not be an overt act of treason to behead a King with a guillotine or to shoot him with a Minie rifle.

It was also urged in Anderton’s favour,—­and this was undoubtedly an argument well entitled to consideration,—­that a distinction ought to be made between the author of a treasonable paper and the man who merely printed it.  The former could not pretend that he had not understood the meaning of the words which he had himself selected.  But to the latter those words might convey no idea whatever.  The metaphors, the allusions, the sarcasms, might be far beyond his comprehension; and, while his hands were busy among the types, his thoughts might be wandering to things altogether unconnected with the manuscript which was before him.  It is undoubtedly true that it may be no crime to print what it would be a great crime to write.  But this is evidently a matter concerning which no general rule can be laid down.  Whether Anderton had, as a mere mechanic, contributed to spread a work the tendency of which he did not suspect, or had knowingly lent his help