The natural sequel was a trial of the leaders, Sinclair, Margarot, Gerrald, and Skirving. Sinclair turned informer, whereupon his indictment was allowed to lapse. The others were charged with attending the meetings of the Convention which, "under the pretence of procuring a Reform of Parliament, were evidently of a dangerous and destructive tendency," modelled on those of the French Convention and with the like aims in view. The charge was held to be proven, and they were severally sentenced to transportation for fourteen years. The cases aroused keen interest, in part owing to the novel claims put forward by the prosecutor and endorsed by the Judges. The Lord Advocate argued that these men, in claiming to represent a majority of the people, were in reality planning a revolt; and Lord Justice Clerk finally declared that the crime of sedition consisted "in endeavouring to create a dissatisfaction in the country, which nobody can tell where it will end. It will very naturally end in overt rebellion; if it has that tendency, though not in the mind of the parties at the time, yet, if they have been guilty of poisoning the minds of the lieges, I apprehend that that will constitute the crime of sedition to all intents and purposes."[309] To find a parallel to this monstrous claim, that sedition may be unintentional and may consist in some action which the Government judges by its results, one would have to hark back to the days of Judge Jeffreys, whom indeed McQueen of Braxfield resembled in ferocity, cunning, and effrontery. The insolence of Margarot at the bar to some extent excused the chief judge for the exhibition of the same conduct on the bench. But in the case of Gerrald, an English gentleman of refined character and faultless demeanour, the brutalities of Braxfield aroused universal loathing. In one respect Gerrald committed an imprudence. He appeared in the dock, not in a wig, but displaying a shock of dishevelled hair, a sign of French and republican sympathies which seemed a defiance to the Court. Nevertheless, his speech in his own defence moved to its depths the mind of a young poet who had tramped all the way from Glasgow in the bleak March weather in order to hear the trial. At the end of the speech young Campbell turned to his neighbour, a humble tradesman, and said: "By heavens, Sir, that is a great man"; to which there came the reply: "Yes, Sir, he is not only a great man himself, but he makes every other man feel great who listens to him."