There we see the causes of unrest. Hunger, hatred of the militia laws, chafing against restraints entailed by the war, all conduce to discontent. The newly awakened Caliban is also a prey to suspicion. He hates foreigners. Yet, either as refugees or prisoners, they swarm along the south coast (there were for a time 5,000 prisoners in Winchester). Fishermen are tempted to help in their escape, and a mariner of Emsworth is arraigned for treason on this count. Even so far west as Bodmin the prisoners are numerous and threatening. They convince many of the townsfolk that England would be better off as a Republic; and two patriotic ladies in fear and horror inform Lord Mount Edgcumbe anonymously that Frenchmen cut a mark round the neck of King George on all coins. The vicar of Ringmer, near Lewes, reports that the smugglers of the Sussex coast carry on a regular intercourse with France. In the Isle of Wight even the French royalists, who are there awaiting the despatch of Lord Moira's long-deferred expedition to Brittany, figure as murderous Jacobins. In Bath, too, the mayor, Mr. Harington, is troubled by the influx of Gallic artists and dancing-masters, especially as they mix in all the "routs," and dare even there to whisper treason against King George. Another report comes that a French usher in a large school near London--was it Harrow?--has converted several of the boys to republicanism. Clearly, these are cases for the Aliens Act. Even Britons, untainted by Gallic connections, are suspect. At Billingsgate a soldier swears that he was set upon at night because he wore the uniform of "a d----d tyrant"; and other evidence proves that the service was unpopular for political reasons as well as the poor pay. Farmers are plied by emissaries of the clubs as they come in to market. Complaints come to Dundas that farmers and shippers on the coasts of Lancashire and Cumberland sell corn to "the natural enemy."