“BETWEEN SILENCE AND A DUNGEON LAY MY ONLY CHOICE.”
When your wife, or your nurse, or your mother-in-law, utters that
reproach of hers, “Ah, I told you how it would be!”--the spirit within
you is not apt to be tinged with a pervading gratefulness.
Similarly, “a man is not likely to be thanked who calls attention
to the vast discrepancies between the theory and practice of the
Constitution” (as one of our later philosophers remarks). What with the
impertinence of the thing--the implied assertion of superiority--the
further implication of failure and muddle on the part of the
prescriptive interpreters of the Constitution: the counsel offered
by outsiders is rejected with disdain, or put down to anything but
disinterested motives.
The shortsightedness and illiberality of the Eldon and Sidmouth type
of statesmanship was constantly displayed in this way. Let there be a
Reform petition offered to Parliament, and they would refuse to receive
it, if, by any means, some technical objection could be raised. Given a
civic state dinner, and the ministers would absent themselves if they
disagreed with the Lord Mayor’s politics. Let a Sunday paper advocate
the correction of financial abuses, and the suspicion is at once raised
that the grievance really lies in not having a share of the spoil.
Genuine men like Whitbread and Romilly, Roebuck and Cobden, have not
always escaped similar imputation, from which their known characters
should yet have shielded them.
The ministers of the Regent might, however, have done better justice
to themselves, and to their opportunities, but for their contemptible
master. The difficulty of conciliating that man was immensely enhanced
by his disreputable domestic circumstances, and the daily need of
avoiding exposure, by keeping watch[1] upon the _Examiners_ and the
_Registers_ of the day. Animadversions upon the conduct of the
Irreclaimable are pretty generally wasted; and when the Irreclaimable
is in sovereign power, discussion on his personal demerits is apt to be
mixed up, somehow or other, with such meaner questions as the welfare
of his subjects, and the stability of the Throne. At this stage, “I
told you so” becomes sedition; and the next thought is of sabres, and
bayonets, and dungeons.
So the Liverpool ministry had their hands full, between this selfish
prince and starving people. Throughout the year 1816, there was a
determined outcry for Parliamentary Reform and reduction of public
expenditure. And being demanded as _rights_, the end of granting these
things was looked upon as something too awful to contemplate.
* * * * *
One leading difficulty with the Reformers was as to the mode: Reformers
of that day must be divided into classes and sub-classes, when their
history comes to be written. There were avowed Republicans at one end
of the scale, and advocates of a purified Constitution at the other.
Their common opponents, however, not only refused to make distinction,
but took hold of minor differences and threw them in the Reformers’
teeth; thus discrediting the entire principle.
For example: Mr. Watson, surgeon, is found to have a number of prepared
pike-heads in his house. He is ready to employ force, if it comes to
the point. Mr. William Cobbett, editor, takes the liberty of telling
the nation that it will never be itself again without a reform. He
abhors violence of any sort or kind. Yet both of these persons, along
with all those of intermediate shades of opinion, are decried as
subverters of the Constitution.
This trick had been kept up for twenty-five years past. And now that
“the most powerful and effective public writer that ever appeared,”
the “closest political reasoner of his time” (as described by
cotemporaries), was the leading writer and reasoner upon Reform in
Parliament: the best thing to do was to impute unworthy and wicked
motives, and to follow that up by an endeavour to curtail his liberty.
Accordingly, the principal London newspapers were full of COBBETT,
from the middle of November, 1816, until the opening of Parliament;
the _Courier_,[2] the _Times_, and the _Morning Post_, making it their
special business to misrepresent him.[3] And, as the popular ferment
had reached a high point, nothing could be easier. Henry Hunt was
holding forth to eager multitudes, whose conduct (partly by incitement
of Government spies) led to measures being taken for preserving the
peace. When the Regent went to open Parliament, a stone was thrown,
which broke the window of his carriage. Then the Government tried a
raid upon the Hampden Clubs, by hauling up their leading members before
a Secret Committee. But, beyond a few scatter-brained individuals who
really hoped there was going to be a revolution, there was nothing
to fear. As the _Times_ (Feb. 5th) said, “Of anything like plot or
conspiracy, in the general and national sense of those words, no
symptoms have yet appeared.”
Yet, because people were clamouring for Reform and remission of public
burdens, the Home Secretary and his friends were frightened out of
their lives. And, because Mr. Cobbett was the leader and guider, upon
these topics, he was charged with exciting the labourers and journeymen
to “burnings, and plunderings, and devastations, and shedding of
blood.” The law officers of the Crown were forthwith instructed to
examine the “blasphemous and seditious” pamphlets of the day; but,
as Lord Sidmouth was “sorry to say,” they were “unable to find out
anything which they could prosecute with any chance of success!”
The Fears gained the day, however; and, to the dismay of the
parliamentary opposition, headed by Earl Grey and Sir Samuel Romilly;
and under a protest of the Lords, led by the Duke of Sussex, the
ministry succeeded in passing a Bill for the Suspension of Habeas
Corpus.
* * * * *
The astonishing success of the cheap edition of the _Register_ caused
a change in Cobbett’s domestic arrangements. The woods and the fields
had to be relinquished; and he came up to London, so as to be in the
thick of the fight. Accordingly, we find Wm. Cobbett, jun., installed
as publisher, at 8, Catherine Street, Strand. The _Register_ is now
entered at Stationers’ Hall, on account of the garbled editions
that have been printed by others; yet the proprietor “gladly” gives
permission to reprint his writings “in any regular newspaper.” A cheap
edition of “Paper against Gold” is being issued in weekly numbers;
and preparations are made for a new serial, under the title of “The
Parliamentary Register.”
With all this writing, and printing and publishing, it must have been
hot and exciting work in London. As the day for opening parliament
approached, the houses of Burdett, and Cartwright, and Cobbett became
the daily resort of Reformers. At this time, Burdett was getting cool
over the great question, and the principal labours fell upon the hands
of Mr. Cobbett and of Lord Cochrane; the latter, by the way, having
charge of a monster petition. Besides this, there were two public
appearances in Hampshire: one, on the occasion of a grand meeting upon
Portsdown hill, and the other at Winchester. One evidence of the state
of popular feeling upon the questions of Reform and of the threatened
invasions of the liberty of the people, is shown in the presentation of
six hundred petitions to the Commons on the 5th of March alone.
And well might the nation be alarmed. As soon as the preliminaries
of the session had been completed, the ministry introduced their
Habeas Corpus Suspension Bill, and passed also an Act for preventing
“seditious meetings and assemblies.” The public voice was thus
completely enthralled. And, amid all the hubbub, it was known that the
leading object in view was to silence Mr. Cobbett.[4]
The Government might as well have taken up the broom of Mrs.
Partington, in order to dispose of Mr. Cobbett. The only effect, upon
him, was to provide new and beautiful topics for his readers:--
“I will first explain clearly what the Habeas Corpus Act is,
&c.”
“Suffer me to say a word or two about the Hawkers’ and Pedlars’
Act.”
and so forth; with full exposition of all previous futile attempts upon
the progress of liberty and intelligence. The papers in the _Register_
of this period ought to have convinced Ministers of the error of
their ways: of the utterly false position in which they had placed
themselves. So clear in description; so cogent in their reasoning; so
temperate. And withal, so full of the writer’s own humour:--
“… irreligious, immoral, or seditious TENDENCY. Only think
of the extent of this word _tendency!_ only think of the
boundless extent of such a word, and of such a word being left
to the interpretation of thousands of men! Suppose the editor
of a newspaper to insert an article, which article recommended
the reduction of the salt-tax: what does this _tend_ to? Why,
to be sure, a magistrate might think, to make the people
discontented with the salt-tax; to make them discontented
with the salt-tax would be, he might think, to make them
discontented with those who compel the people to pay it; those
who compel the people to pay it are Kings, Lords, and Commons;
and, therefore, here is an article which _tends_ to make the
people discontented with Kings, Lords, and Commons, and which,
of course, _tends_ to produce hatred of them, and to bring
about insurrection, treason, revolution, and blood and carnage!”
Clear, and temperate, and lively as they were, however, there was no
mincing of matters; even to the pointing out to Lord Sidmouth, at last,
that he was the real revolutionist,[5] and that all his efforts were
“unavailing as to the work of stifling.”
“NOTHING WILL, CAN, OR SHALL KEEP MY WRITINGS FROM THE EYES OF
MY SUFFERING AND FAITHFUL COUNTRYMEN!”
But, if this was resolution and not mere swagger, how was it to be
done? Any one of his neighbours, maliciously disposed, could have Mr.
Cobbett brought before a magistrate, and thrown into jail without
warning, for any word with a tendency. What is more, they meant to do
so.
There was only one way:--
“A few years ago, being at Barnet Fair, I saw a battle going
on, arising out of some sudden quarrel, between a butcher and
the servant of a West-country grazier. The butcher, though
vastly superior in point of size, finding that he was getting
the worst of it, recoiled a step or two, and drew out his
knife. Upon the sight of this weapon, the grazier turned about
and ran off, till he came up to a Scotchman who was guarding
his herd, and out of whose hand the former snatched a good
ash-stick, about four feet long. Having thus got what he called
_a long arm_, he returned to the combat, and, in a very short
time, he gave the butcher a blow upon the wrist, which brought
his knife to the ground. The grazier then fell to work with
his stick in such a style as I never before witnessed. The
butcher fell down, and rolled and kicked; but he seemed only
to change his position in order to insure to every part of his
carcase a due share of the penalty of his baseness. After the
grazier had, apparently, tired himself, he was coming away,
when, happening to cast his eye upon the _knife_, he ran back
and renewed the basting, exclaiming every now and then, as he
caught his breath: ‘_Dra’ thy knife, wo’t?_’ He came away a
second time, and a second time returned, and set on upon the
caitiff again; and this he repeated several times, exclaiming
always when he recommenced the drubbing: ‘Dra’ thy knife,
wo’t?’--till, at last, the butcher was so bruised, that he was
actually unable to stand or even to get up; and yet, such,
amongst Englishmen, is the abhorrence of foul fighting, that
not a soul attempted to interfere, and nobody seemed to pity a
man thus unmercifully beaten.
“It is my intention to imitate the conduct of this grazier;
to resort to _a long arm_, and to combat Corruption, while I
keep myself out of the reach of her _knife_. Nobody called
the grazier a coward, because he did not stay to oppose his
fists to a pointed and cutting instrument. My choice, as I
said before (leaving all considerations of personal safety
out of the question), lies between silence and retreat. If I
remain _here_, all other means will be first used to reduce
me to silence; and if all these means fail, then will come
the dungeon. Therefore, that I may still be able to write,
and to write with freedom too, I shall write, if I live, from
AMERICA.…”
This resolve appears to have been in Mr. Cobbett’s mind since the
middle of February, shortly after the introduction of the Gagging
Bills, as they were called. It was now the end of March, and the
campaign against the popular press was in victorious advance. People
could almost hear the prison doors creaking open. When, lo! the
persecutors wake up one morning, and find that the wretch has flown!
Have you ever watched, reader, the gyrations of pussy’s face--the
involuntary muscular contortions of her jaws, at sight of a
dickey-bird, when that gentle creature is on the wrong (but safe)
side of a window-pane? Such was the aspect of Authority, when she
found that Mr. Cobbett had slipped through her fingers. And such, the
impotent anger of his rivals.[6] The explosion of wrath, which took
place upon the discovery that he was out of harm’s way, really appears
laughable, to look back upon it from this distance of time. He had
eloped from his creditors, had been diddling the Stamp Office, had
escaped imprisonment for life: he had deserted his family, deserted
the cause, deserted his country: and, as for his pretended patriotism,
what did his friends think of the brave Cobbett now? Even the
Reformists, themselves, felt a shudder of dismay pass over them; whilst
the _Examiner_ class of scribblers fell upon the caitiff with their
envious sneers, retailing the lies and imputations invented and cast
about by their own enemies! But, perhaps the unkindest cut of all was
on the part of the _Chronicle_, when that great bulwark of whiggism,
and mock-Reformist, informed its readers that Cobbett had gone off to
America because the circulation of the _Register_ had fallen so low,
through the operations of Sidmouth’s acts.
The fact of the matter being that, in spite of all that could be said,
Mr. Cobbett’s flight to America in 1817, was one of the cleverest
and most spirited acts of his life. The decision of character, the
singleness of purpose, and confidence in his own resources, displayed
on this occasion, are almost unexampled. Hundreds of writers had
expatriated themselves, before now; but where was the man to be found,
who had done so with a view to a better fighting-ground? Political
refugees were swarming throughout the Union, but they were beginning
life anew; and who amongst them but had cast the dust of their native
country from off their shoes--who but this one proclaimed, “England is
my country, and to England I shall return,”--and lived to return and
see his work accomplished?
* * * * *
The world, then, was looking for its weekly oracle (or weekly trash, or
weekly venom, according to the point of view), upon Saturday, the 5th
of April, 1817. Rumours had been afloat for several days that Cobbett
was in Liverpool, on his way to America; and, upon the world going,
with its twopences, to Catherine Street, Strand, rumour developed into
certainty. The intending purchaser of a _Register_ received instead,--
“MR. COBBETT’S TAKING LEAVE OF HIS COUNTRYMEN.”
As one more specimen of what Cobbett could say, when his heart was more
than usually full of tender and earnest feeling, the reader will like
to have presented here some portions:--
“My Beloved Countrymen,--Soon after this reaches your eyes,
those of the writer will, possibly, have taken the last glimpse
of the land that gave him birth, the land in which his parents
lie buried, the land of which he has always been so proud; the
land in which he leaves a people whom he shall, to his last
breath, love and esteem beyond all the rest of mankind.
“Every one, if he can do it without wrong to another, has a
right to pursue the path to his own happiness; as my happiness,
however, has long been inseparable from the hope of assisting
in restoring the rights and liberties of my country, nothing
could have induced me to quit that country, while there
remained the smallest chance of my being able, by remaining,
to continue to aid her cause. No such chance is now left. The
laws which have just been passed, especially if we take into
view the real objects of those laws, forbid us to entertain the
idea, that it would be possible to write on political subjects
according to the dictates of truth and reason, without drawing
down upon our heads certain and swift destruction. It was well
observed by Mr. Brougham, in a late debate, that every writer
who opposes the present measures, ‘must now feel that he sits
down to write with a halter about his neck,’ an observation the
justice of which must be obvious to all the world.
“Leaving, therefore, all considerations of personal interest,
personal feeling, and personal safety; leaving even the peace
of mind of a numerous and most affectionate family wholly out
of view, I have reasoned thus with myself: What is now left
to be done? We have urged our claims with so much truth; we
have established them so clearly on the ground of both law and
reason, that there is no answer to us to be found other than
that of a suspension of our personal safety. If I still write
in support of those claims, I must be blind not to see that
a dungeon is my doom. If I write at all, and do not write in
support of those claims, I not only degrade myself, but I do
a great injury to the rights of the nation by appearing to
abandon them. If I remain here, I must, therefore, _cease to
write_, either from compulsion, or from a sense of duty to my
countrymen; therefore it is impossible to do any good to the
cause of my country by remaining in it; but, if I remove to a
country where I can write with perfect freedom, it is not only
_possible_, but very _probable_, that I shall, sooner or later,
be able to render that cause important and lasting services.
“Upon this conclusion it is, that I have made my determination;
for, though life would be scarcely worth preserving, with the
consciousness that I walked about my fields or slept in my bed
merely at the mercy of a Secretary of State; though, under such
circumstances, neither the song of the birds in spring, nor the
well-strawed homestead in winter could make me forget that I
and my rising family were slaves, still there is something so
powerful in the thought of country and neighbourhood, and home
and friends, there is something so strong in the numerous and
united ties with which these and endless other objects fasten
the mind to a long-inhabited spot, that to tear oneself away
nearly approaches to the separating the soul from the body.
But then, on the other hand, I asked myself: ‘What! shall I
submit in silence? Shall I be as dumb as one of my horses?
Shall that indignation which burns within me be quenched? Shall
I make no effort to preserve even the _chance_ of assisting to
better the lot of my unhappy country? Shall that mind, which
has communicated its light and warmth to millions of other
minds, now be extinguished for ever; and shall those who, with
thousands of pens at their command, still saw the tide of
opinion rolling more and more heavily against them, now be ever
secure from that pen, by the efforts of which they feared being
overwhelmed? Shall truth never again be uttered? Shall her
voice never be heard, even from a distant shore?’
“Thus was the balance turned; and, my countrymen, be you well
assured that, though I shall, if I live, be at a distance
from you; though the ocean will roll between us, not all
the barriers that nature as well as art can raise, shall be
sufficient to prevent you from reading some part, at least,
of what I write; and, notwithstanding all the wrongs of which
I justly complain; notwithstanding all the indignation that
I feel; notwithstanding all the provocations that I have
received, or that I may receive, never shall there drop from my
pen anything which, according to the law of the land, I might
not safely write and publish in England. Those who have felt
themselves supported by power, have practised towards me foul
play without measure; but though I shall have the means of
retaliation in my hands, never will I follow their base example.
“Though I quit my country, far be it from me to look upon her
cause as desperate, and still farther be it from me to wish to
infuse despondency into your minds. _I can serve that cause no
longer by remaining here_; but the cause itself is so good,
so just, so manifestly right and virtuous, and it has been
combated by means so unusual, so unnatural, and so violent,
that it _must triumph_ in the end. Besides, the circumstances
of the country all tend to favour the cause of Reform. Not a
tenth part of the evils of the system are yet in existence.
The country gentlemen who have now been amongst our most
decided adversaries, will very soon be compelled, for their
own preservation, to become our friends and fellow-labourers.
Not a fragment of their property will be left, if they do not
speedily bestir themselves. They have been induced to believe
that a Reform of the Parliament would expose them to plunder or
degradation; but they will very soon find, that it will afford
them the only chance of escaping both. The wonder is that they
do not see this already, or rather that they have not seen it
for years past. But they have been blinded by their foolish
pride; that pride, which has nothing of mind belonging to
it, and which, accompanied with a consciousness of a want of
any natural superiority over the labouring classes, seeks to
indulge itself in a species of vindictive exercise of power.
There has come into the heads of these people, I cannot very
well tell how, a notion that it is proper to consider the
labouring classes as a distinct _caste_.
* * * * *
“The writings of Malthus, who considers men as mere animals,
may have had influence in the producing of this change;
and we now frequently hear the working classes called _the
population_, just as we call the animals upon a farm _the
stock_. It is curious, too, that this contumely towards the
great mass of the people should have grown into vogue amongst
the country gentlemen and their families, at a time when they
themselves are daily and hourly losing the estates descended
to them from their forefathers. They see themselves stripped
of the means of keeping that hospitality, for which England
was once so famed, and of which there remains nothing now but
the _word_ in the dictionary: they see themselves reduced to
close up their windows, live in a corner of their houses, sneak
away to London, crib their servants in their wages, and hardly
able to keep up a little tawdry show; and it would seem, that
for the contempt which they feel that their meanness must
necessarily excite in the common people, they endeavour to
avenge themselves, and at the same time to disguise their own
humiliation, by their haughty and insolent deportment towards
the latter: thus exhibiting that mixture of poverty and pride,
which has ever been deemed better calculated than any other
union of qualities to draw down upon the possessors the most
unfriendly of human feelings.
“It is curious, also, that this fit of novel and ridiculous
pride should have afflicted the minds of these persons at
the very time that the working classes are become singularly
enlightened. Not enlightened in the manner that the sons of
Cant and Corruption would wish them to be. The conceited
creatures in what is called high life, and who always judge
of men by their clothes, imagine that the working classes of
the people have their minds quite sufficiently occupied by
the reading of what are called ‘religious and moral tracts.’
Simple, insipid dialogues and stories, calculated for the minds
of children seven or eight years old, or for those of savages
just beginning to be civilized. These conceited persons have
no idea that the minds of the working classes ever presume to
rise above their infantine level.… The working classes of the
people understand well what they read; they dive into all
matters connected with politics; they have a relish not only
for interesting statement, for argument, for discussion; but
the powers of _eloquence_ are by no means lost upon them.… In
the report of the Secret Committee of the House of Lords, it
is observed that, since the people have betaken themselves to
this reading and this discussing, ‘their character seems to be
wholly changed.’ I believe it is indeed! For it is the natural
effect of enlightening the mind to change the character. But
is not this change for the better? If it be not, why have we
heard so much about the efforts for instructing the children of
the poor?… Has it been intended that these people, when taught
to read, should read nothing but Hannah More’s _Sinful Sally_,
and Mrs. Trimmer’s Dialogues? Faith! The working classes of
the people have a relish for no such trash. They are not to be
amused by a recital of the manifold blessings of a state of
things, in which they have not half enough to eat, nor half
enough to cover their nakedness by day, and to keep them from
perishing by night. They are not to be amused by the pretty
stories about ‘the bounty of providence in making brambles
for the purpose of tearing off pieces of the sheep’s wool, in
order that the little birds may come and get it to line their
nests with to keep their young ones warm!’ Stories like these
are not sufficient to fill the minds of the working classes
of the people. They want something more solid. They have had
something more solid. Their minds, like a sheet of paper,
have received the lasting impressions of undeniable fact and
unanswerable argument; and it will always be a source of the
greatest satisfaction to me to reflect that I have been mainly
instrumental in giving those impressions, which I am very
certain will never be effaced from the minds of the people of
this country.
* * * * *
“I shall be as careful as I have been, not to write anything
that even a special jury would pronounce to be a _Libel_. I
have no desire to write libels. I have written none here. Lord
Sidmouth was ‘sorry to say’ that I had not written anything
that the law officers could prosecute with any chance of
success. I do not remove for the purpose of writing libels, but
for the purpose of being able to write what is _not_ libellous.
I do not retire from a combat with the Attorney-General,
but from a combat with a dungeon, deprived of pen, ink, and
paper. A combat with the Attorney-General is quite unequal
enough. That, however, I would have encountered. I know too
well what a trial by Special Jury is. Yet that, or any sort
of _trial_, I would have stayed to face. So that I could have
been sure of a trial, of whatever sort, I would have run
the risk. But, against the absolute power of imprisonment,
without even a hearing, for time unlimited, in any jail in the
kingdom, without the use of pen, ink, and paper, and without
any communication with any soul but the keepers; against such
a power it would have been worse than madness to attempt to
strive. Indeed, there could be no striving, in such a case;
where I should have been as much at the disposal of the
Secretary of State as are the shoes which he has upon his feet.
No! I will go, where I shall not be as the shoes upon Lord
Sidmouth’s and Lord Castlereagh’s feet. I will go where I can
make sure of the use of pen, ink, and paper; and these two
lords may be equally sure that, in spite of everything they can
do, unless they openly enact or proclaim a censorship on the
press, or cut off all commercial connexion with America, you,
my good and faithful countrymen, shall be able to read what I
write.
* * * * *
“And now, my countrymen, before I set off, let me caution
you against giving the smallest credit to anything that
Corruption’s Press may assert of me. You have seen what
atrocious falsehoods it has put forth in my presence; what,
then, will it not do in my absence? I have written thousands of
letters to various persons in all parts of the kingdom. I give
any one leave to make public any letter of mine, accompanied by
the certificate of any respectable friend of mine, that it is
in my handwriting. I challenge all those, whom I ever conversed
with, to say, that I ever uttered a wish to see overthrown any
one of the Constitutional establishments of the kingdom; and, I
most solemnly declare that I never associated with any man who
professed, even in private, to entertain any such wish; but, on
the contrary, all those with whom I have ever been intimate in
politics, have always had in view the preservation of all the
establishments and orders of the kingdom, as one of the objects
of a timely reform of the Parliament.
* * * * *
“A mutual affection, a powerful impulse, equal to that out of
which this wonderful sagacity arises, will, I hope, always
exist between me and my hard-used countrymen; an affection
which my heart assures me, no time, no distance, no new
connexions, no new association of ideas however enchanting,
can ever destroy, or in any degree enfeeble or impair.… Never
will I own as my friend him who is not a friend of the people
of England. I will never become a Subject or a Citizen in any
other State, and will always be a foreigner in every country
but England. Any foible that may belong to your character,
I shall always willingly allow to belong to my own. All the
celebrity which my writings have obtained, and which they will
preserve long and long after Lords Liverpool, and Sidmouth,
and Castlereagh are rotten and forgotten, I owe less to my
own talents than to that discernment, and that noble spirit
in you, which have at once instructed my mind and warmed my
heart: and, my beloved countrymen, be you well assured that the
last beatings of that heart will be, love for the people, for
the happiness, and the renown of England; and hatred of their
corrupt, hypocritical, dastardly, and merciless foes.”
A postscript adds that the weekly political pamphlet would be revived
in about three months’ time. And his readers are assured further that--
“If I have life for only a year or two at farthest, I shall
be back with them again. The beautiful country through which
I have so lately travelled, bearing, upon every inch of it,
such striking marks of the industry and skill of the people,
never can be destined to be inhabited by slaves. To suppose
such a thing possible would be at once to libel the nation
and to blaspheme against Providence. Let my readers not fear
my finding out the means of communicating to them whatever
I write. They will see the political pamphlet revive and be
continued, until the day when they will find me again dating my
addresses to them from London or from Botley.
“WM. COBBETT.
“_Liverpool, 28th March, 1817._”
The suspension of the _Register_ lasted for about three months. On
the 12th of July it was resumed, with a letter dated from Cobbett’s
residence, May 8th, and the journal was kept up without further
interruption. Only on one or two occasions did a number appear in which
there was not a communication from the exiled editor.
But his place in the journalistic world was not left utterly vacant.
William Hone led the way, with his _Reformists’ Register_, among
a series of similar publications.[7] Indeed, it was understood
that Hone’s Register occupied the position which Mr. Cobbett had
temporarily abdicated. Hone had been a staunch supporter, since the
_Political Register_ had become popularized; besides making a depôt
for that journal at his little shop in the Old Bailey, he had recently
reproduced the American autobiography of Peter Porcupine in a cheap
form.[8]
In the course of the summer of this year, an exposure of the spy
system was made in the House of Commons; and it was proved, over and
over again, that nearly all the serious riots had been instigated by
these wretches, actually in the employ of Government. The result was a
public condemnation of the infamous system, and its immediate disuse
on the part of ministers. And, as a matter of course, all the signs
of turbulence in the country ceased; the Habeas Corpus Suspension Act
being repealed soon after the next meeting of Parliament. In fact,
every day proved, more and more clearly, that it was nothing but fear
which had magnified a few local discontents--by means of that powerful
lens, Anti-Reform--into designs upon the fabric of the Constitution.
But the mischief done to the temper of the people was irreparable.
Those persons (of whom there must be some proportion, even among
such a phlegmatic race as the English) whose reforming zeal was
easily raised to fever heat, got into trouble; and several suffered
the capital penalty for treason, during the years 1817-19. Their
imprudence, however, could not delay, for long, the imminent Reform;
the violence done to popular feeling, by a combination of cruelty and
weakness, was bearing its fruit; and this is how, in spite of its
natural claims upon the patriotism of Englishmen, Toryism came to bear
undeserved opprobrium. We, who are of no party but that of Progress
and Enlightenment, and who have long ceased to believe in traditional
politics, whether Whig or Tory, will not fail to take to heart again
the lesson: that violence, impatience, and selfish prescription are as
much out of place in the political as in the moral world. We have had
ample opportunities of noting this, during the last half-century; and
if there is anything upon which we may congratulate ourselves, it is
that we have had Melbournes and Peels, Russells and Palmerstons, during
a period of European revolution, instead of such men as the favourites
of George the Third.
FOOTNOTES
[1] _Keeping watch_, in the times of which we are speaking, was not
exclusively from the constable’s point of view. The hand of intrigue
was always prepared, in order to purchase silence, as it had been for a
century past. When the Hunts were about to enter prison on account of
their libel upon the Regent, they had the opportunity of refusing an
immunity from punishment if they would consent to hold their tongues
for the future. And an offer was sent to Cobbett to remit the 1000_l._
fine, just before his release in 1812, if he would promise not to
support the cause of the Princess of Wales.
[2] The _Courier_ was generally suspected of being a subsidized paper.
The _Edinburgh Review_ characterized it thus:--“A paper of shifts and
expedients, of base assertions and thoughtless impudence. It denies
facts on the word of a minister, and dogmatizes by authority.”
[3] One likes to hear both sides, when there is a trifling difference
of opinion:--
“If Cobbett and Hunt were really honest men, and really wished
well to the cause of Reform, they would abstain from meddling
with it.… If a man wants to repair his mansion, and an adviser
comes and tells him that he will do no good except he pull it
altogether down and rebuild it, the owner immediately begins to
think it better that he should continue to live in the old house
as it is rather than run such risks.”--_Times_, Jan. 28, 1817.
“Mr. Cobbett, whose sincerity in the cause of the country can no
longer be questioned by any party,” &c., &c.
“He has increased his circulation to _forty_ and _fifty thousand_
per week; and thus his work tends to counteract the unprincipled
sophistry of certain of the daily newspapers and of their
satellites through the country. As Mr. C. gives no quarter to
the partisans of war and corruption, and to the sinecurists
and peculators who devour the substance of the people, and as
he is the able advocate of the vital question of Parliamentary
Reform, we conceive it to be our duty to recommend his _Register_
to the favourable attention of our liberal and enlightened
readers.”--_Monthly Magazine_, January, 1817.
[4] It appears from a memorandum, printed in Mr. Yonge’s “Life and
Administration of Lord Liverpool” (vol. ii. 298), that Robert Southey
recommended, if he did not primarily suggest, these severities. He
names “Cobbett, Hone, and the _Examiner_, &c.,” as the writers who are
to be stopped, and thinks that their imprisonment should be “such as
will prevent them from carrying on their journals.”
[5] “Not he who demands rights, but he who abjures them, is an
anarchist.”--_J. Horne Tooke._
[6] “As might be expected, falsehoods out of number, and in every garb,
have been circulated in regard to a man who never compromised with his
convictions.”--_Monthly Magazine_, May, 1817.
There were many, it must be said, who looked at the matter in its
proper light, and fairly pointed out that Cobbett had been driven away.
[7] “Hone’s Reformist’s Register,” “Sherwin’s Political Register,” “The
Republican,” edited by Carlile; “The Black Dwarf” of T. J. Wooler;
“The Yellow Dwarf,” &c. “The Black Dwarf” was a somewhat remarkable
fellow. He dealt fiercely with the prevailing political hypocrisies
and abuses in Church and State. Wooler was very angry over Cobbett’s
flight to America, but soon condoned the matter. “The Yellow Dwarf”
had some severe articles upon the spy system, and the libel laws, and
the unfortunate State prisoners. William Hazlitt appears among the
contributors.
“Shadgett’s Weekly Review” was an opposition affair, started with
the object of trying to put down these irrepressibles. Some sketches
from this journal were collected and republished under the title
of “The Political Quixote; or, The Adventures of the Renowned Don
Blackibo Dwarfino and his Trusty Squire, Seditiono; a Romance, in
which are introduced many Popular and Celebrated Political Characters
of the Present Day” (London, 1820). One of the “characters” is Pietro
Porcupino.
The _Ulster Register_ printed at Belfast (“for the proprietor, John
Lawless, Esq.”), was a partial reprint of Cobbett’s.
[8] With his incurable propensity for parody, Hone closed up this
pamphlet thus:--“Now the rest of the acts and life of this author, are
they not written in the volumes of his _Political Register_ and other
works?”