“TO PUT A MAN IN PRISON FOR A YEAR OR TWO DOES NOT KILL HIM.”
So the patriot was down. Down, among the felons. To keep company, for
a period of two years, “with swindlers, and with persons convicted of
the most detestable crimes,” was he set down; unless he should ransom
himself away from their immediate society. There he was, torn away
from home, subjected to untold difficulties, financial and other, and
deprived of liberty--in the cause of humanity and of national justice.
The absurdity of this outrageous sentence was soon manifest. The whole
country cried “Shame!” Even the toad-eating ministerial newspapers were
silent. Save mutilation, it was going back two hundred years.
Not that this was a solitary affair: there were other sufferers in
durance vile, or with the prospect of it over their heads; and the
existing generation had not forgotten the victims of 1792-4. But
this was so notorious: here was a man whose writings were patriotic,
manly, eloquent;--and so far unsurpassed by those of any of his
cotemporaries--bundled into jail for speaking the plain truth about
public affairs, and proving it as he went along.
Exactly a year ago it had been openly declared that they were
determined to crush him! And now the blow had fallen:--
“They thought that this savage sentence would break my heart,
or at least silence me for ever. It was, indeed, a bloody stab.
They thought they had got rid of me. Just after the verdict of
_guilty_ was found, Perceval met his brother-in-law Redesdale,
at the portal of Westminster Hall. They shook hands, and gave
each other joy!… Curtis[1] met Tierney in the Hall: ‘Ah! ah!
we have got him at last,’ said Curtis. ‘Poor Cobbett! let him
be bold now!’ The old place-hunter answered, ‘D--n him! I hope
they’ll squeeze him!’ They did squeeze indeed; but their claws,
hard as they were, did not squeeze hard enough.… The ruffians
put me into prison in lucky time for me--put me into prison,
and tied me to the stake of politics.”
But let that pass. A prison is a prison. A convicted libeller is a
convicted libeller. And, a convicted libeller having made his bed, let
him lie upon it! The wretch should have taken into the account, when
he made his stab at a merciful but just executive, that he ran the risk
of being thrown into the enforced companionship of other villains. He
had made his choice: it was not for him to complain that the logic
of events had left him in jail, and that folks outside were laughing
at him. Yes, let that pass, it is no concern of ours. That which it
behoves us to consider--that which is infinitely more interesting to
us--is this question, _What came of it all_?
In the first place, before Mr. Cobbett was released, flogging had
become so discredited as to be nearly in desuetude, as regards the
British army. Secondly, the degrading practice was totally abolished in
the United States army, by Act of Congress of April 10th, 1812.
As was observed in a previous chapter, this topic was now uppermost in
the public mind. And, as though sufficient warning had not been derived
from the fate of Cobbett, a reckless provincial editor must needs court
a similar martyrdom. This was Mr. Drakard, of the _Stamford News_,
who admitted into his paper, of the 24th August, a bitter paragraph
concerning “ONE THOUSAND LASHES;” a paragraph “of a nature so infamous,
so seditious, and so dangerous, that no good man who heard it read
could restrain his resentment,” &c. Of course. So, as Mr. Drakard had
made his bed, he might lie upon it; which he did, for the space of
eighteen months in Lincoln jail,[2]--for the sake of dear good men, who
could not “restrain their resentment” at being told, that punishment
and merciless barbarity were not convertible terms.
Those were, indeed, good old times. If there is anything, more than
another, which stamps mediocrity upon the governing men of that day
(not excepting the “first gent.” himself), it is their persistent
disregard of the affections of the people, as displayed in the measures
entertained by the Legislature;[3] the callosity of heart and mind with
which they faced any appeal to the better feelings of human nature, on
behalf of the unnumbered and unwashed.
* * * * *
At last, however, flogging was being deprecated. And it is due to Sir
Francis Burdett, to record, that he was instrumental in bringing the
attention of Parliament to the matter. He had moved, in 1808, without
effect, that a return of floggings be presented to the House. Again, in
1811, he revived the subject, with the result that a clause found its
way into the Mutiny Bill, having for its tendency the “lessening the
quantity of flogging in the army.” In the following Session, Burdett
insisted upon the necessity of abolishing the practice altogether:
vainly, however; although his action produced an unmistakable change in
the tone of Government and its supporters.
During this discussion, in March, 1812, Mr. Brougham brought Cobbett’s
name into the proceedings, to the infinite disgust of some ministerial
toad-eaters. They protested: they “felt extremely hurt that the
indiscreet language of the learned gentleman should go out to the
public, as bidding the army look up to Mr. Cobbett for redress, instead
of to their own officers.”
They had done better to leave Mr. Cobbett to his own native
insignificance; and not rouse him, with his whip-cord in hand:--
“Here is, even from the mouths of the Government themselves, an
acknowledgment that it is a good thing to make the practice of
flogging less general. This they have now distinctly avowed,
that it is desirable to narrow this practice; and they boast
of having, in some degree, succeeded by the means of a clause
in the last year’s Mutiny Act. Now then, said Mr. Brougham, if
this be the case, or as far as the good has gone, it is to be
attributed to the press; and that, while those who were honest
and bold enough to begin this battle in the cause of humanity;
while those who fought the good fight and won an inestimable
victory in that great cause; while Mr. Drakard and I were shut
up in a prison, the Government were boasting of the success
of a measure founded upon our principles. He added, that ‘the
legislature had been obliged, with respect to this question,
to act upon the very principles of Mr. Cobbett, who was now in
jail for his unseasonable declaration of them.’ This seems to
have given great offence to several members of the honourable
House, who observed that the soldiers ought to be taught to
THANK THEIR OFFICERS for the measure, and NOT MR. COBBETT! Oh,
dear, no! That would be a sad thing! It would be a sad thing if
the soldiers were to look to ME for redress; especially after
my being sent to a felon’s jail, which, of course, was to mark
me out for a man to be shunned, rather than looked up to. The
truth is, that this merit of having been the beginner of the
battle in the cause of the soldiers does not belong to me. It
belongs to Sir Francis Burdett.…
“Sir George Warrender describes Mr. Brougham as bidding the
army look to me for redress instead of looking to their own
officers. Why, really, I do not see why this should hurt the
gentleman’s feelings so much. What harm could it do? What
could the public or the soldiers learn from any speech of Mr.
Brougham more about me than they know already? They all know
very well what I am in jail for.… The newspapers were kept full
of me and my _crime_ for the best part of a month; from the
newspapers I and my crime got into the caricature shops; and,
in short, while in jail myself, all those (and very numerous
they were), who were in hopes that I was gone to my last home,
used every means in their power to blacken my character.…
“Surely Sir George Warrender might have trusted, in such a
case, to the _understanding_ of the army! He might surely have
confided in their _taste_ not to look up to me instead of their
officers, especially after the repeated assurances of Sir
Vicary Gibbs, that the army _despised_ such writings as mine,
and held their authors in abhorrence. After this, I think Sir
George Warrender might have spared any expression of the wound
given to his feelings at hearing language that tended to induce
the army to _look up to me_ instead of looking up to their
own officers for redress. ‘_Indiscreet language!_’ As if the
subject had been all _tinder_: as if there had been imminent
danger in even warning me, lest the soldiers should hear, or
see, my name! Really, though sitting here in a jail, I can
hardly help laughing at the idea.”
* * * * *
“When it was known in America, that so heavy, so dreadful a
sentence, had been passed upon me, a sentence which no man
could regard as much short of death; a sentence surpassing in
severity those for nineteen-twentieths of the _felonies_; when
this sentence was heard of in America, where every creature was
well acquainted with what I had there suffered from my devotion
to my country, every one naturally felt eager to know _what I
could have done_ to merit such a sentence? And, when the people
of that country came to see what it was; when they came to read
the article, for the writing of which I was to be so heavily
punished; when they came to consider the subject-matter of that
publication, and to reflect on how they themselves might become
interested in it, there naturally came forth through the press
an expression of some sentiments which have finally had their
effect in producing the Act of Congress above inserted; and
thus has the hateful practice of flogging men been abolished by
law in a great and rising, and wonderfully-increasing nation. I
do not pretend to say that the American Government would have
had any desire to continue the practice of flogging, though the
discussions on the subject had never taken place in England.
On the contrary, I am of opinion that that Government was glad
of an opportunity of getting rid of it; but I am of opinion
that the thing would not have been thought of, had it not been
for the discussions in England. Sir Vicary Gibbs was little
apprehensive of these effects when he was prosecuting me; he
could scarcely have hoped that his labours would be productive
of consequences so important, so beneficial, and honourable to
mankind; he hardly, I dare say, flattered himself that he was
ensuring the extension of his renown through a whole continent
of readers.”
It was, then, no idle boast, that imprisonment need not kill, nor even
seriously injure, a man: that a jail was “as good a place for study as
any other.” But, really, although the temporary loss of liberty is an
unpleasant thing, considered in the abstract, there can be no possible
objection to a man putting as good a face as he can on the matter. Life
itself is nothing but a life-long struggle of a kindred character: to
try and get an optimist view of bad circumstances. And, if one must
needs take his daily exercise upon the leads of Newgate prison, instead
of through his coppices and cornfields: if he must get his “violets
and primroses, and cowslips and harebells,” sent up by the carrier,
because of their extreme rarity in the street below; let him thank a
propitious Heaven for so much!
In point of fact, few prisoners were ever so blessed as Cobbett. The
reader is familiar enough (from the pages of “Advice,” &c.) with
the current of domestic joy that kept flowing. But, besides having
one or other of his family continually with him, there were always
sympathizing visitors: personal friends, business acquaintances,
deputations from clubs and societies all over the kingdom. And, what
was of no little importance, Matthew Wood was sheriff, who attended, in
every possible way, to the comfort of his prisoner. Baron Maseres[4]
came frequently, and “always in his wig and gown, in order, as he said,
to show his abhorrence of the sentence.”
“I was hardly arrived when the brave old Major Cartwright
came.… You [PETER WALKER, of Worth, Sussex] were the next to
arrive; and when, by dint of money, I had obtained the favour
to be put into a room by myself, you hurried home, and brought
me bedstead, chairs, tables, bedding, and everything; and
I think I see you now, stripped in your shirt, putting the
bedstead together and making up my bed. During the whole of
the two years you never suffered me to be lonely; and your
kindness was such, that when you found me engaged--when any
one arrived--you instantly departed, unless pressed to stay.
Thus proving that your visits arose solely from your desire to
alleviate the sufferings of confinement. And, at the close of
the period, though the sum was so enormous, and the period so
long, you, with my excellent friend BROWN, voluntarily became
my bail, and spoke of it, as he did, as an honour done to
yourself.”
And, as to his health, Cobbett would boast in after years that he
never had even a headache for a moment; never enjoyed better health or
spirits; never had hopes more lively, or thoughts more gay, than in
that prison.
But that which, above all other matters, appeared to be the great
solace of his prison-life, was the production of his famous work on
the Currency, under the title of “Paper against Gold.”[5] The tricks
and contrivances by which paper-money had been, along with the funding
system, made the means of placing unwieldy fortunes in the hands of
speculators, was his utter abhorrence. The glory was departed from
England, in his eyes, if public credit were to hang upon the prosperity
of the few, as against the multitude. And, regarding a fictitious
currency, shifting in value from day to day, sometimes even from hour
to hour, as a leading cause of the debt which was accumulating to such
a terrible figure,--he resolved to devote a part of his newly-found
leisure to the systematizing of his thought upon the subject.
Accordingly, upon the 1st of September, he commenced a series of
papers, founded upon the recent report of the Bullion Committee;
tracing the history of the National Debt, and of the schemes for
raising money which had been in vogue during the war.
Here is his story (told in 1822) of the first conception of the plan,
and his notion of its value:--
“The next day after Gibbs, Ellenborough, and their associates,
had got me safe in Newgate, an American friend of mine, who
had the clearest and soundest head of almost any man I ever
knew in my life, and for whom I had and still have a very great
personal regard, came to see me in a very miserable hole,
though better than that to which I had been sentenced, and from
which I finally ransomed myself at the expense, for _lodging_
alone, of 1200_l._ Being seated, one of us on each side of a
little bit of a table, he said, looking up into my face, with
his arms folded upon the edge of the table, ‘Well! they have
_got you_ at last. And now, what will you do?’ After a moment
or two I answered, ‘What do you think I ought to do?’ He then
gave me his opinion, and entered pretty much into a sort of
plan of proceedings. I heard him out, and then I spoke to
him in much about these words: ‘No, Dickins, that will never
do. This nation is drunk, it is mad as a March hare, and mad
it will be till this beastly frolic (_the war_) is over. The
only mode of proceeding, to get satisfaction, requires great
patience. The nation must suffer at last, and greatly and
dreadfully suffer, and in that suffering it will come to its
reason, and to that justice of sentiment, which are now wholly
banished. I shall make no immediate impression by tracing the
paper-system to its deadly root. The common people will stare
at me, and the rich ruffians will swear; but the time must come
when all will listen; and my plan is to write that _now_ which
I can hold up to the teeth of my insolent enemies, and taunt
them with in the hour of their distress.…’ I then described to
him the outline of what I intended to do with regard to the
paper-system; and after passing a very pleasant afternoon,
during which we selected and rejected several titles, we at
last fixed upon that of _Paper against Gold_, which I began
to write and to publish in a few weeks afterwards, and which,
at the end of thirteen years, I hold up to the noses of the
insolent foes who then exulted over me, and tell them, ‘This is
what you got by my having been sentenced to Newgate: this was
the produce of that deed by which it was hoped and believed,
that I was pressed down never to be able to stir again.…’ This
was a new epoch in the progress of my mind. I now bent my
whole force to one object, regarding everything else as of no
consequence at all. The pursuits of agriculture and gardening
filled up the moments of mere leisure and relaxation. Other
topics than that of paper-money came now and then to make a
variety; but this was the main thing. I never had any hope in
anything else; and nothing else was an object of my care.”
So the attempt to crush him was a failure. Rather, they read defiance
in every page; and, as time wore on, it was seen that the silence
of defeat was on the side of Mr. Cobbett’s foes. The Press ignored
him; that Press which had, from envy at his superior talents and his
unexampled success, ransacked the vocabulary of Billingsgate in order
to abuse a man they could not answer; which had so goaded and inflamed
the persecuting spirit of the time, that none dared speak or write who
were not sheltered by privilege, or who had not bartered independence
for the favour of those in power. Not for several years after this date
was there much desire shown, on the part of a ministerial writer, to
attract the glance of this rampant lion.
And they might well be quiet. If this imprisonment had neither killed
nor cured him, Mr. Cobbett came out of Newgate an altered man. He was
now fifty years of age, and a few grey hairs were just appearing.
The enormous expenses which he had been put to (amounting, from
first to last, to more than six thousand pounds), and the discovery
that his business affairs were hopelessly involved, made up a bundle
of difficulties which began to tell upon his temper. Good-natured
sarcasms made place for bitter ones; and an air of spitefulness would
come over his writings when there was more than ordinary cause for
resentment. His essays were, albeit brilliant as ever, sometimes marred
by the introduction of coarse epithets; and, during the remainder of
his career, this cause alone sufficed to estrange many of his friends,
and to put a stone into the hand of opponents.
Mr. Cobbett’s writing must be considered as at its very best during the
years 1810-12. He probably gave some time to revision; a point which he
had been inclined to neglect, and a matter concerning which he seemed
utterly heedless in later years; the exclusive devotion to his pen, now
so far removed from rural distractions, necessarily produced better
work.
But it cannot be said that there was any deterioration in Cobbett’s
literary style, beyond the warmth of expression engendered by fiercer
animosity. The best known works of William Cobbett belong to the last
twenty years of his life; and if they are painfully full of personal
hatreds, it must be recollected that those were, indeed, times to
try men’s souls; the oppressor and the oppressed had seldom been, in
England, in such close conflict; and a leader and guider of men, on
the side of the latter, had need to be fierce and uncompromising. The
soldier, foremost of your storming-party, has little time to spare
for consideration of the personal merits of the foe, whose gunstock is
swinging o’er his head.
* * * * *
The more serious result, personally, of the sentence pronounced upon
Mr. Cobbett, was the utter collapse of his pecuniary fortunes. The
enormous profit derived from the publication of the _Register_ might
have been sufficient to cover even the profuse expenditure of Botley
House, with its hospitality and its planting experiments, but Mr.
Cobbett was eminently a person who (as the Hebrew poet has it) earned
money to put it into a bag with holes.
This matter, however, might be passed over with light notice, but for
its interference with Cobbett’s public services. His is not a solitary
instance of a useful life being marred, and its efficiency hindered, by
an ignorance of the value of money; and there could hardly be a more
decisive evidence of the disastrous results of such ignorance than is
presented by this man’s career. PLUTUS is the most exacting of deities;
his votaries must be whole-hearted; let FORTUNA come and cast off her
shoes as she may.…
It was never Cobbett’s aim to get rich. He had, indeed, hoped to
provide a snug competence for his children; but for plans of amassing
wealth he had supreme contempt. To earn by labour, and to circulate
the proceeds, was his economy; and it cannot be denied that, with
proper prudence, that is the right economy. The greatest enemy to
national prosperity is the plutocrat; and the next greatest is he who
can afford, in the prime of life, to live without labour, through the
mistaken munificence or benevolence of another.
* * * * *
It would appear, then, that upon accounts being looked into, in the
autumn of 1810, money affairs were found to be almost hopelessly
entangled. The three great serial works,--the “Debates,” “Parliamentary
History,” and “State Trials,” were being produced at a ruinous loss;
while the accommodation-paper, chiefly in the hands of Mr. Swann,
amounted to thousands of pounds. Cobbett had not looked at his balance
for six years! His practice was to ask Mr. Wright to send him ten,
twenty, or forty pounds as he wanted it; and to leave the rest of the
matter implicitly to him. Wright was, himself, not very clever in the
management of money; and, between the two, there came at last the
profoundest muddle. It ended in an arbitration, held in the prison; the
result being a heavy award against Wright, and a total and irremediable
rupture of their friendship. Mr. Budd bought up a large portion of the
publications in stock; while Mr. Hansard took into his own hands the
three serials which he had been printing for Cobbett.
The quarrel with Mr. Wright is the most painful episode in Cobbett’s
life. There can be no doubt that Wright had been a reckless agent, and
had been trusted far too much; and his conduct, some years after, in
producing an old, long-forgotten, private letter of Cobbett’s, to serve
electioneering purposes, was so infamous a breach of confidence, that
it may well be believed that his employer’s imputation of dishonesty
had foundation in actual fact. Of this matter we shall unhappily
hear more in the sequel.[6] The following letter to Mr. Swann (dated
Newgate, January 26, 1811) may be selected as best illustrating the
existing condition of affairs:--
“I find, from Mr. Bagshaw, that one of the notes, given by him
to you, or at least accepted by him, at our settlement and
renewal of bills, under the auspices of Wright, is coming due
on Tuesday (I believe it is), and we have no money to pay it.
You remember that he told me that all these notes were given
for books bought by Budd and Bagshaw. As it happens, the former
was nearly true; but, as to the latter, not a shilling was due
on that account. The whole was a fraud upon me, in order to
make me believe that the works had sold to this extent; and
his view was to get an assignment of the stock, and leave me
to pay myself as I could. I have now an abundance of _bonâ
fide_ notes, but no money; every sixpence being swallowed by
the notes left unpaid and unrenewed at the time you were here.
A series of such unprincipled conduct I never either knew or
heard of; but I am aware that my having been a dupe is no
justification for me with you. Within these five weeks I have
not had an hour’s peace; but I have obtained forbearance from
those whom I could not pay, and have avoided, except with you,
putting my name to any new bill. My wife knows all about the
matter; and plenty of vexation it has given her. I imagine I
can pay this first note in about a fortnight; but I am sure the
others will come too fast upon me. If you could come to town in
ten days, I think we could so settle the matter, as for it not
to be at all, or at least but very little inconvenient to you,
and to relieve my mind from a load of vexation and anxiety that
is really intolerable.
“The works are all going on well. I have made a revolution
here at any rate. I have not seen Wright this fortnight; but I
make him send every word of copy to _me_. I have dismissed his
journeyman-authors and bottle-companions, and have set him to
work for his bread. And work he shall, or I will dismiss him.
Considerable as my property is, I had been well-nigh ruined,
if I had not come to jail. Let me have a line from you. Mrs.
Cobbett joins me in kindest regards to Mrs. Swann and your
dear children. We thank you very much for the pig; but I thank
you still more for your last kind and affectionate letter, the
words of which, and the whole of your conduct, have made an
impression upon my heart that never will be effaced. Amongst
the other acts of this man was an attempt to put an end to
_our_ connexion, when once he had got you to take the notes;
but he was silenced by an indignant rejection of the hint on
my part. The best way will be to say little about the matter
anywhere; for the shame of being so duped is mine.
“God bless you, and give you health, and the like to your
family.”
It was all too late, however. Years of prosperity, with concurrent
retrenchment, might have staved off ruin. But, as the ensuing period in
the history of England was one of continued disaster to most persons
who were not paid out of the taxes, Mr. Cobbett shared the fate of all
persons who were not prepared for the storm; and his pecuniary affairs
only got from bad to worse. As for the 6500_l._ due from Wright under
the arbitration, there was not the ghost of a chance of that ever being
paid.
Under the circumstances, then, it is not surprising to learn that
he had already accepted the proffered assistance of his political
friends. Colonel Bosville gave him 1000_l._ as a set-off against some
electioneering expenses he had been put to over Mr. Paull; Burdett
advanced a large sum chiefly for the purpose of settling with Mr.
Swann; and, at last, when the fine had to be paid, it would appear that
Cobbett owed the ability to do so to the generosity of another. This
disposition to support him and his cause showed itself, however, from
the very first, and from all quarters. Even his opponents could not
fail to admit the severity of the sentence;[7] while his friends not
only offered their sympathy, but proposed a public subscription on his
behalf--a proposal, however, which Cobbett declined, at the same time
suggesting that those who wished to assist him could not do better than
buy the _Register_.
The end came at last. In compliment to Mr. Cobbett’s untiring industry,
and the abundant material provided for its exercise, Old Time had worn
his fleetest pair of wings. And on the 8th July, 1812, his last paper
in Newgate announced that he had “just paid a thousand pounds to the
king: and much good may it do his majesty!”
On the following day, being released, a grand dinner was given at the
“Crown and Anchor,” in order to celebrate the occasion; and, as though
Fate were determined that he should have no interval of peace, as soon
as he had regained his liberty, the opportunity must needs be taken to
remind Mr. Cobbett that his opinions had changed from time to time.
Burdett took the chair, presiding over some six hundred guests, and the
thing was fairly successful, notwithstanding an attempt made to create
discord between Cobbett and the chairman of the evening. There was no
blinking the fact, however, that Cobbett had lost some friends over the
vacillation which he had displayed while within the grasp of Vicary
Gibbs; but the ungenerous mortal, who brought the matter forward at the
dinner, had no support from his audience; and, indeed, all the leaders
among the Reformists[8] had condoned the momentary weakness.
Mr. Cobbett’s release was celebrated, in several places in England, by
a public meeting of one kind or other. And as he journeyed homeward,
his reception was well-calculated to add to the felicities of the day.
At Alton, the bells were set ringing; at Winchester he was stopped to
be again entertained at dinner; and, on nearing home, he found the
people of Botley had come out in goodly assemblage to meet him, and to
listen to his story.
FOOTNOTES
[1] Alderman Sir William Curtis, Member for the City of London. He
had amassed great wealth as a war contractor, and was now a staunch
supporter of the ministry.
[2] The _Examiner_ copied this paragraph, and the proprietors were
prosecuted, but the jury acquitted them.
[3] Take, as a specimen, the following proposal:--The Spilsby Poor Bill
was a measure brought before Parliament, early in 1811, for the purpose
of enabling the directors of the union to compel the poor, whether
asking relief or not, to go into the workhouse. They were to be allowed
to enter houses at their discretion to search for vagrants. They might
commit to solitary imprisonment, without limit, the poor whom they
collected, and _administer moderate correction_ for misbehaviour!
(_Vide_ Parliamentary Debates, March 26, 1811.) This brutal idea was
soon snuffed out, at the instance of Sir Samuel Romilly; but what a
picture does it not present, of the combination of imbecility and
cruelty which could rule the minds of some of the potential classes of
society!
[4] Francis Maseres (1731-1824), Cursitor Baron of the Exchequer,
came of a Huguenot family, and was a man of high cultivation, being
especially distinguished for his mathematical attainments and his
knowledge of English constitutional history. Although his name is now
almost forgotten, he produced a number of short essays and treatises
on his favourite subjects, many of which, however, are buried away in
the newspapers of his time, Cobbett’s _Porcupine_ being one to which
he contributed. Maseres was a moderate Reformer, and what opinions
he had were rather allowed to filtrate through his own select circle
of friends than pushed forward into naked notoriety. He pursued a
quiet, intellectual life, and devoted a large portion of his means
to charitable and liberal purposes. Cobbett never mentions his name
without affectionate reverence.
[5] This work was begun shortly after Cobbett’s arrival in Newgate.
His contention was that the Bank could never again pay in specie
or in paper at par, unless the interest on the Funds was reduced.
The loans having been contracted to a large extent in paper, this
seemed reasonable enough; and the idea was generally accepted among
the classes who suffered so severely from monetary pressure during
subsequent years, although others thought it was “sapping the
foundations of public morality,” and so on.
The first letter appeared in the _Register_ of Sept. 1, 1810, under the
title of “Paper against Gold; being an Examination of the Report of the
Bullion Committee; in a Series of Letters to the Tradesmen and Farmers
in and near Salisbury.” It was afterwards reprinted in full, with
additions, under the title of “Paper against Gold, and Glory against
Prosperity” (retail price, twenty shillings, in paper money).
During the remainder of Cobbett’s life, he was always at battledore
and shuttlecock over the Currency question. A passage from one of his
American _Registers_ was one that he was especially fond of sending up,
in which he declared that it would be impossible to carry Peel’s Bill
of 1819 into full effect, and wound up with an offer to Castlereagh to
have leave “to lay me on a gridiron and broil me alive, while Sidmouth
may stir the coals, and Canning stand by and laugh at my groans.” The
Bill did take effect, after a fashion, but with tremendous difficulties
in its train; and the feast of the gridiron came off at last, on the
9th of April, 1826, not in the style that was originally proposed, but
in the shape of a dinner at the London Tavern. For a full account of it
see the _Morning Herald_ of the following day.
Another bit of humour was an attempt in verse:--
“Of paper coin how vast the pow’r!
It breaks or makes us in an hour.
And thus, perhaps, a beggar’s shirt,
When finely ground and clear’d of dirt,
Then recompress’d by hand or hopper,
And printed on by sheet of copper,
May raise ten beggars to renown,
And tumble fifty nobles down!”
When Cobbett took the house at 183, Fleet Street, he prepared a big
gridiron as a shop-sign, and also headed his journal with a woodcut of
that utensil.
[6] Mr. Wright employed his later years in miscellaneous literary work,
and died in the year 1844. For a notice of him, _vide Gentleman’s
Magazine_ of that year.
[7] “You will readily imagine that the sentence of our friend was
very grievous indeed to me. Everybody that I have seen, even Mr.
C.’s enemies, declare it to be too severe. I hope and trust it will
not, however, damp his ardour.… I was very glad to see, by the last
_Register_, that Mr. Cobbett’s spirit is by no means cowed.”--J. Swann
to J. Wright, July 13 and 20, 1810.
[8] Excepting Mr. Leigh Hunt. The _Examiner_ again took up its tale
about Mr. Cobbett’s “dastardly spirit,” which, it was quite clear,
still existed, for the latter had not dared to whisper a syllable
against the pernicious habits of the Prince of Wales, nor against
the reappointment of the Duke of York. Cobbett was at the same time
charged, by the same writer, with “almost holding up the murderer of
Perceval to applause and imitation”--a statement which was the _exact
opposite_ to the truth. A further insinuation, that Lord Cochrane held
guineas up to the electors, was of similar malignity and worthlessness.
A pamphlet appeared, about this time, upbraiding those who had been
latterly seizing upon the opportunity to vilify Cobbett’s character:
“An Examination of the Attacks upon the Political Character of Mr.
Cobbett,” by George Buckler (London, 1812).