“Paine lies in a little hole under the grass and weeds of an obscure farm in America. There, however, he shall not lie, unnoticed, much longer. He belongs to England. His fame is the property of England; and if no other people will show that they value that fame, the people of England will. Yes, amongst the pleasures that I promise myself, is that of seeing the name of Paine honoured in every part of England; where base corruption caused him, while alive, to be burnt in effigy.” Now this, be it observed in passing, was quite in accord with Cobbett’s habitual notions as to the reverent treatment of the dead; as any industrious reader of him well knows.[6] He now proceeded to keep the subject alive by frequent references; and, at last, announced that the coffin had been taken up, and would be sent off to England in the same condition as it was found. “We will honour his name,” he says, “his remains and his memory, in all sorts of ways. While the dead Borough-mongers, and the base slaves who have been their tools, moulder away under unnoticed masses of marble and brass, the tomb of this ‘Noble of Nature’ will be an object of pilgrimage with the people.… Let this be considered the act of the Reformers of England, Scotland, and Ireland. In their name we opened the grave, and in their name will the tomb be raised. We do not look upon ourselves as adopting _all_ Paine’s opinions upon all subjects. He was a great man, an Englishman, a friend of freedom, and the first and greatest enemy of the Borough and Paper System. This is enough for us.” So, with this unusual piece of luggage in his possession, Mr. Cobbett returned to England, reaching Liverpool at the end of November, 1819, in company with his son William. * * * * * The conspiracy panic had well-nigh died away. But, in August, 1819, the memorable occurrence, known as the Manchester massacre, was the means of reanimating the fears of ministers, through the spirit of indignation which it had roused throughout the land. Parliament was called together in November, for the purpose of fresh repressive legislation; the product of which was the celebrated series, known as the _Six Acts_.[7] It was at this juncture that Mr. Cobbett met his friends again at Liverpool: to the dismay of some, who told him that he was “jumping into the lion’s mouth:” to the joy of the great body of Reformers, who hastened to testify their gratification by every means in their power. From the towns of Yorkshire and Lancashire, especially, the Reformers crowded forward with addresses of welcome: in spite of the revived opposition of authority--opposition which was displayed in an unusual manner; as, when a poor fellow was put into jail, for going round the town of Bolton with the crier’s bell, in order to announce Mr. Cobbett’s safe return. Into jail, for ten weeks![8]