In all of this may be read the frantic fears of the King and aristocracy which were driving the Ministry to make good Paine's aphorism, "There is no English Constitution." An English Constitution was, however, in process of formation,--in prisons, in secret conclaves, in lands of exile, and chiefly in Paine's small room in Paris. Even in that time of Parisian turbulence and peril the hunted liberals of England found more security in France than in their native land.* For the eyes of the English reformer of that period, seeing events from prison or exile, there was a perspective such as time has now supplied to the historian. It is still difficult to distribute the burden of shame fairly. Pitt was unquestionably at first anxious to avoid war. That the King was determined on the war is certain; he refused to notice Wilberforce when he appeared at court after his separation from Pitt on that point. * When William Pitt died in 1806,--crushed under disclosures in the impeachment of Lord Melville,--the verdict of many sufferers was expressed in an "Epitaph Impromptu" (MS.) found among the papers of Thomas Rickman. It has some historic interest. "Reader! with eye indignant view this bier; The foe of all the human race lies here. With talents small, and those directed, too, Virtue and truth and wisdom to subdue, He lived to every noble motive blind, And died, the execration of mankind. "Millions were butchered by his damned plan To violate each sacred right of man; Exulting he o'er earth each misery hurled, And joyed to drench in tears and blood, the world. "Myriads of beings wretched he has made By desolating war, his favourite trade, Who, robbed of friends and dearest ties, are left Of every hope and happiness bereft. "In private life made up of fuss and pride, Not e'en his vices leaned to virtue's side; Unsound, corrupt, and rotten at the core, His cold and scoundrel heart was black all o'er; Nor did one passion ever move his mind That bent towards the tender, warm, and kind. "Tyrant, and friend to war! we hail the day When Death, to bless mankind, made thee his prey, And rid the earth of all could earth disgrace,-- The foulest, bloodiest scourge of man's oppressed race."