“I RESOLVED NEVER TO BEND BEFORE THEM.”
The _Times_ newspaper for July 8th, 1800, announced, under date of
Falmouth, July 4th, the arrival of the _Lady Arabella_ packet from New
York, _viâ_ Halifax; adding that, “on the 20th, in lat. 50.30, long.
28.10, she was chased by a large vessel, which gained so much on her
that she found it necessary to heave her guns, shot, lumber, &c.,
overboard, by which means she was considerably lightened, and on the
following day got so much ahead that the pursuer gave up the chase.”
Among the passengers, who thus escaped the rigours of a French prison,
were “Mr. and Mrs. Cobbet.”
The following note is to Mr. Wright, the bookseller in Piccadilly,
dated Falmouth, 8th July:--
“DEAR SIR,--I arrived here, with my family, last Friday, by
the _Lady Arabella_ packet-boat, and shall set off for London
to-morrow morning, travelling by the way of Bath, &c. … in a
post-chaise, with Mrs. Cobbett and my two children, so that you
may expect to see me in town on Saturday or Sunday next.
“I have taken the liberty to give a draft on you for 20_l._
I brought off only 50_l._ in cash; and, as I have remained
here and at Halifax much longer than I thought there would be
any occasion for, I was apprehensive I should fall short. Mr.
Pellew, of this place, who, by-the-bye, is a brother of the
gallant Sir Edward Pellew, offered me whatever I might want,
and I gave him the above-mentioned draft. Do not fail to accept
it, and I will be careful to lodge the cash with you before the
time of payment arrives. Indeed, I will do it immediately upon
my arrival.
“Pray make my most respectful compliments to Mr. William
Gifford, and believe me, though in haste, your very sincere
friend and most obedient servant,
“WILLIAM COBBETT.
“P.S.--That part of my baggage, which I am not able to carry
with me, I have sent to a waggon warehouse, directed to your
care. I shall, undoubtedly, be in town before it, but if, by
some accident, I should be detained longer on the road than
the 17th instant, I beg the favour of you to go and claim the
things (two trunks, one bale, one deal box, and one band-box)
at the Swan-and-two-Necks, Lad Lane.”
Mr. Cobbett’s arrival in England was early signalized by an
opportunity of carrying out his principles, long since determined on,
concerning the disposal of the public money:--
“From my very first outset in politics, I formed the resolution
of keeping myself perfectly independent, whatever difficulty
or calamity might be the consequence of it.… With the same
resolution in my mind I returned to England. The first
opportunity of putting it in practice was in a little matter
with which OLD GEORGE ROSE[1] had something to do. I had
brought home with me books, printed in America, enough to fill
a couple of large trunks; and, having been informed by Mr.
Pellew, the collector at Falmouth, that as to books _not for
sale_, it was usual, upon an application made to the Secretary
of the Treasury, to obtain a remission of the duties, I wrote
to Old Rose, informing him of the circumstance, and stating
to him the ground upon which my claim was founded. George did
not admit the claim; he made some difficulty about it; but,
finding that I had, at once, paid the duty, amounting to about
ten pounds, perhaps, he caused it to be notified to me that
_the money should be returned to me_. This offer I would not
accept of, not perceiving how, except by way of a _Treasury
gift_, such a return could be made.”
Cobbett has made several references to Mr. Pellew, the collector of
customs, who appears to have lodged and entertained him, with much
attention.
* * * * *
Upon his arrival in London, in the middle of July, Mr. Cobbett took
a lodging in St. James’s Street, and began to deliberate upon his
future. He had scarcely, when everything was counted up, five hundred
pounds with which to begin the world anew. But he had not to wait long
for a certain sort of encouragement. His fame was very widely spread
among the adherents of Government; besides that, numerous gentlemen of
Tory principles sought him out. Others, of independent politics, but
admiring his talents and his daring, came to pay court. The Government
press hailed him, and congratulated their countrymen “on the arrival of
an individual … whom no corruption can seduce, nor any personal danger
intimidate from the performance of his duty.”
Among these visitors were Baron Maseres; Dr. Ireland (shortly
afterwards Dean of Westminster), who was especially gracious to him;
the Rev. G. H. Glasse, rector of Hanwell, a well-known pamphleteer of
the day, a good scholar, and chaplain to the Earl of Radnor; the Rev.
William Beloe; Mr. John Penn, Sheriff of Buckinghamshire (who “took me
by the hand the very week I came to England”); &c. So that, along with
the immediate officials of Government, there was quite enough to turn
Mr. Cobbett’s head, had he not been possessed of supreme self-command.
At that moment, together with his native and acquired capacities, he
had the means and the opportunity, if so disposed, of carving out an
easy fortune.
But, of all his admirers, no one seems to have equalled Mr. WINDHAM, in
the warmth and eagerness with which that gentleman courted Cobbett’s
friendship.
The Right Hon. William Windham (“the first gentleman of the age …
the ingenious, the chivalrous, the high-souled,” according to one of
Macaulay’s juster judgments) was an enthusiast; and, in the eyes of
those persons who shrug their shoulders when a man acts as though he
had some faith in his own opinions, _whimsical_. Deeply reverential
toward the memory of Mr. Burke, his own genius was not unfitted to bear
forth, to another generation, the name and the principles of that
great man. Windham was beloved and admired by all persons of refinement
and sensibility; and if he has left a name not so widely known as some
of his cotemporaries, it must be laid to the account of an extreme
self-consciousness, and an honourable delicacy, which prevented him
from serving always in the ranks of party with unreasoning devotion.
Mr. Windham’s peculiar scare was French Jacobinism; and he, along
with the leaders of the party who held similar views, thought that
there could be no lasting cessation of hostilities with Buonaparte,
whilst the ascendancy of the latter involved the spread of Democratic
principles. Mr. Windham was, naturally, a zealous admirer of that arch
anti-Jacobin, whose writings had so disturbed the bile of American
Democrats; and, upon Porcupine’s arrival in London, he immediately
sought his acquaintance. With Windham was associated Dr. French
Laurence, another intimate friend of the lamented Burke, who also ably
represented in Parliament the opinions of that statesman.
Mr. Windham was, at this time, Pitt’s Secretary-at-War; and, according
to the entry in his diary,[2] he appears to have met Cobbett for the
first time on the 7th of August, 1800 (probably at Windham’s official
residence). Mr. Cobbett’s references to this occurrence represent
Mr. Pitt as having been very polite to him on the occasion, and as
having inspired him with great admiration for his person and manners.
He was altogether pleased and gratified by his reception, and by the
ready condescension with which the company present conversed with him.
But, of course (as he said more than thirty years afterward), “it was
natural for Pitt and his set to look at me a little, to see what they
could make of so efficient a piece of stuff.” Mr. Pitt’s habitual
austerity and hauteur pretty generally disappeared at the dinner-table;
and Cobbett saw him, for the first time, at one of these happy
moments. So that, what with his very natural pride at the invitation,
and his satisfaction at finding that the King’s ministers were such
highly-agreeable fellows, he felt more than ever disposed to use his
talents in the support of monarchy. He resolved to set up a daily
paper; and left Mr. Windham’s dinner-table with that resolve uppermost
in his mind.
* * * * *
That Mr. Pitt miserably erred, in the prosecution of the European
war, has long since been established, with all minds not wedded to
the notion that our rulers are of Divine appointment. What opposition
there was to his ideas, in his own day, was considered to proceed only
from the partisans of revolution; and it was easy to apply the term
“_disaffected_,” to humanitarians who hated war, or to the suffering
poor who wanted bread. But, notwithstanding that the Government
expenditure was over fifty millions per annum,[3] and that the ordinary
expenses of housekeeping had increased 300 per cent. in seven years,
the war was popular with all classes that had anything to fear from
modern doctrines. The political ignorance of even the majority of the
House of Commons of that day would put to shame the very students
of our time. And it is not too much to say that, had Lord Grenville
been anything of a statesman beyond the name, he would scarcely have
treated Napoleon’s overtures for peace, made at the close of the
year 1799, with mere contempt, and allowed a fair opportunity for a
general pacification to pass away because he must have, as a basis,
the reinstatement of the Bourbons upon the throne of France. Ministers
wanted to come out of the contest, in point of fact, with GLORY;
and any peace, which did not involve the attainment of the objects
with which the war was, professedly, being carried on, was certain
also to involve their prestige, if not their places. This may be said
without any disparagement to their honour. Mr. Pitt, Mr. Windham, Lord
Grenville,--all of them and their supporters, honestly believed that
their mission was, not only to keep French principles out of England,
but to smother them throughout Europe. Sternly, earnestly, they kept
to their purpose; forgetting, or, more probably, never having taken
to heart, the prodigious expansion which the eighteenth century had
produced in the human mind, and the certainty of its development in the
line of liberty; whilst confounding, in one heterogeneous estimate,
the unstable Gaul, the restless Pole, the high-spirited Celt, and the
conservative Briton.
* * * * *
So Mr. Pitt’s supporters in the press, reflecting the fearsome notions
of their chief, and dreading, as from the Evil One himself, the
faintest breath of democracy, could only regard the “masses” as unfit
for more than the mere semblance of political rights. The impossibility
of phlegmatic JOHN BULL ever permitting, on his own soil, such follies
and excesses as the French Jacobins had perpetrated never entered
their minds. “Law and Order,” as personified in George III. and his
ministers, was the only antithesis to “Anarchy.” Some of these writers
lived to see the perilous consequences of the repressing system;
and a few survived to note the blessings which flowed from general
political enlightenment. Some, to the very last, shut their eyes to
the inevitable, and could prognosticate only decay; others, sooner or
later, discerned the signs of the times, and served worthily in the
van of progress. Of these latter, one of the first, one of the most
earnest, one of the bravest, was Mr. William Cobbett.
And it is not uninteresting to note that, on the very morrow of Mr.
Windham’s dinner-party, the dimness began to clear away from Cobbett’s
mind. Better and nobler hopes for the future of England, founded upon
something more solid than class-prescriptions, unfolded themselves;
the veil began to part, behind which was hidden the framework of
misgovernment alike with the skeletons of its framers; a glimmer
of dawn, the expansion of which was soon to light up a path, so
startlingly and unexpectedly distinct from his previous conceptions,
appeared,--a path, not upon the mossy turf of favour and privilege,
leading on to other mossy turves, but one trending up-hill, among
stones and briers--which stones would, at last, beaten down into the
earth by later footsteps, provide a firm foot-hold--which briers,
refreshed by successive showers, would yet emit a sweet and blessed
odour!
Here is his own account; and the man, or the woman, who can read it
without emotion, need scarcely go on with this history:--
“When I returned to England, in 1800, after an absence from
the country parts of it of sixteen years, the trees, the
hedges, even the parks and woods, seemed _so small_! It made
me laugh to hear little gutters, that I could jump over,
called _rivers_! The Thames was but a _creek_! But when, in
about a month after my arrival in London, I went to Farnham,
the place of my birth, what was my surprise! Everything was
become so pitifully _small_! I had to cross in my post-chaise
the long and dreary heath of Bagshot; then, at the end of it,
to mount a hill, called Hungry Hill; and from that hill I knew
that I should look down into the beautiful and fertile vale
of Farnham. My heart fluttered with impatience, mixed with a
sort of fear, to see all the scenes of my childhood; for I
had learnt, before, the death of my father and mother. There
is a hill, not far from the town, called Crooksbury Hill,
which rises up out of a flat, in the form of a _cone_, and is
planted with Scotch fir-trees. Here I used to take the eggs
and young ones of crows and magpies. This hill was a famous
object in the neighbourhood. It served as the superlative
degree of height. ‘_As high as Crooksbury Hill_’ meant, with
us, the utmost degree of height. Therefore, the first object
that my eyes sought was this hill. I could not believe my eyes!
Literally speaking, I, for a moment, thought the famous hill
removed, and a little heap put in its stead; for I had seen, in
New Brunswick, a single rock, or hill of solid rock, ten times
as big, and four or five times as high! The post-boy going
down hill, and not a bad road, whisked me in a few minutes
to the Bush Inn, from the garden of which I could see the
prodigious _sand-hill_ where I had begun my gardening works.
What a _nothing_! But now came rushing into my mind, all at
once, my pretty little garden, my little blue smock-frock, my
little nailed shoes, my pretty pigeons that I used to feed
out of my hands, the last kind words and tears of my gentle
and tender-hearted and affectionate mother. I hastened back
into the room. If I had looked a moment longer, I should have
dropped. When I came to reflect, _what a change_! I looked down
at my dress--what a change! What scenes I had gone through! How
altered my state! I had dined the day before at a Secretary
of State’s in company with Mr. Pitt, and had been waited upon
by men in gaudy liveries! I had had nobody to assist me in
the world--no teachers of any sort--nobody to shelter me from
the consequences of bad, and no one to counsel me to good,
behaviour. I felt proud. The distinctions of rank, birth, and
wealth, all become nothing in my eyes; and from that moment
(less than a month after my arrival in England) I resolved
never to bend before them.”
The determination to start a daily paper was wise on the part of
Mr. Cobbett, as far as his experience in Philadelphia had shown how
possible it was for him to entertain a large circle of readers; but
unwise, in that he had scarce capital enough with which to print
the numbers for a single week. Yet the opportunity for carrying out
his plan without risk was placed at his disposal; and there are few
incidents in Cobbett’s whole career which redound so greatly to
his credit as the refusal of this offer. The pride with which, in
after-years, he told and retold the story, may be estimated very
differently by different minds; but the spirit with which the refusal
was made is unexceptionable. There was no other way out of it, if he
meant Independence. If glimpses of grandeur had really not contaminated
that honest heart, nor weakened the impulses of that patriotic soul,
how should he live, and move, and work, and fight, with his hands not
free?
And this is the story [he is addressing Mr. George Rose]:--
“John Heriot was at that time the proprietor of two
newspapers, called the _Sun_ and the _True Briton_--the former
an evening and the latter a morning paper. I had heard that
these two papers had been set on foot by _you_, who were then
one of the Secretaries of the Treasury, and that, when set on
foot, the profits of them had been given to Heriot. Now mark,
that Mr. Hammond, who was then Under-Secretary of State in
the Foreign Department, offered to me the _proprietorship_
of one of those papers _as a gift_; and I remember very well
that he told me that this offer was made in consequence of a
communication with you, or your colleague Mr. Long, I forget
which. This was no trifling offer. The very types, presses,
&c., were worth a considerable sum. Mr. Hammond, who was a very
honest as well as a very zealous and able man, had behaved with
great kindness to me; had invited me frequently to his house,
where I dined, I recollect, with Sir William Scott, with Lord
Hawkesbury (now Lord Liverpool), and several other persons of
rank; and, in short, had shown me so much attention, that I
felt great reluctance in giving the following answer to his
offer:--‘I am very much obliged to you, and to the gentlemen
of whom you speak, for this offer; but, though I am very poor,
my desire is to render the greatest possible service to my
country, and I am convinced that, by keeping myself wholly
free, and relying upon my own means, I shall be able to give
the Government much more efficient support than if any species
of dependence could be traced to me. At the same time, I do
not wish to cast blame on those who are thus dependent; and
I do not wish to be thought too conceited and too confident
of my own powers and judgment to decline any advice that you,
or any one in office, may at any time be good enough to offer
me; and I shall always be thankful to you for any intelligence
or information that any of you may be pleased to give me.’ Mr
Hammond did not appear at all surprised at my answer; and I
shall always respect him for what he said upon hearing it. His
words were nearly these:--‘Well, I must say that I think you
take the _honourable_ course, and I most sincerely wish it may
also be the _profitable_ one.’ I ought not, upon this occasion,
to omit to say that I always understood that Lord Grenville,
who was then Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, was not
one of those who approved of the baseness and dependence of the
press.”
He also ventured to remind Mr. Hammond
“of the fable of the wolf and the _mastiff_, the latter of
which, having one night, when loose, rambled into a wood, met
the former all gaunt and shagged, and said to him, ‘Why do you
lead this sort of life? See how fat and sleek I am! Come home
with me and live as I do, dividing your time between eating and
sleeping.’ The ragged friend having accepted the kind offer,
they then trotted on together till they got out of the wood,
when the wolf, assisted by the light of the moon, the beams
of which had been intercepted by the trees, spied a _crease_,
a little _mark_, round the neck of the mastiff. ‘What is your
fancy,’ said he, ‘for making that mark round your neck?’
‘Oh!’ said the other, ‘it is only the mark of my collar that
my master ties me up with.’ ‘Ties you up!’ exclaimed the wolf,
stopping short at the same time; ‘give me my ragged hair, my
gaunt belly, and my _freedom_;’--and, so saying, he trotted
back to the wood.”
Opportunities for reflecting upon the comparative states of dependence
and independence crowded apace. He could scarcely turn, among his
new circle of friends, without discovering some new Government
parasite, some new candidate for ministerial favour, some new
office-hunter or aspiring sinecurist. Mr. Pitt disdained the society
of newspaper-people, but was only too willing to pay them for their
praises. And it must not be left unnoticed that the practice of
liberally rewarding this class of writers has often been justified by
circumstances. The case in point, viz. the fight which was going on
against democracy, required that the enemy should be fought with his
own weapons; only it very unfortunately happened that all the talent
was on the other side, and, where quality was lacking, the fight must
needs be kept up with the aid of gold and silver. Mr. Cobbett would,
indeed, have been worth buying, if his price could have been named;
while there was a Paine, or a Thelwall, or a Godwin to be withstood.
The following brilliant and humorous passage of Cobbett’s, written in
his old age, will complete our illustration of this topic:--
“At the time of my return, the great Government writers and
political agents were John Reeves, who had been chairman of the
_Loyal Association against Republicans and Levellers_; John
Bowles; John Gifford; William Gifford; Sir Frederick Morton
Eden, Bart.; the Reverend Mr. Ireland, now Dean of Westminster;
the Reverend John Brand; the Reverend Herbert Marsh, now
Bishop of Peterborough; Mallet Du Pan; Sir Francis D’Ivernois;
and Nicholas Vansittart. These were all pamphlet-writers,
supporting Pitt and the war through thick and thin. They,
looking upon me as a fellow-labourer, had all sent their
pamphlets to me at Philadelphia; and all of them, except Marsh,
Vansittart, and the two Frenchmen, had written to me laudatory
letters. All but the parsons called themselves ’SQUIRES in the
title-pages of their pamphlets. Look at me now! I had been bred
up with a smock-frock upon my back; that frock I had exchanged
for a soldier’s coat; I had been out of England almost the
whole of my time from the age of [twenty]. We used to give
in those times the name of ’SQUIRE to none but gentlemen of
great landed estates, keeping their carriages, hounds, and so
forth: look at me, then, in whose mind my boyish idea of a
’SQUIRE had been carried about the world with me: look at me,
I say, with letters from four ’SQUIRES and from REVERENDS on
my table; and wonder not that my head was half turned! Only
think of me (who, just about twelve years before, was clumping
about with nailed shoes on my feet, and with a smock-frock on
my back) being in literary correspondence with four ’SQUIRES,
two REVERENDS, and a BARONET! Look at me, and wonder that I did
not lose my senses! And if I had remained in America, God knows
what might have happened.
“Luckily I came to England, and that _steadied_ my head pretty
quickly. To my utter astonishment and confusion, I found all my
’SQUIRES and REVERENDS, and my BARONET too--all, in one way or
other, dependents on the Government, and, _out of the public
purse, profiting from their pamphlets_. John Reeves, ESQUIRE,
who was a barrister, but never practised, I found _joint
patentee of the office of King’s Printer_--a sinecure worth,
to him, about 4000_l._ a year, which he had got for thirty
years, just then begun. John Bowles, ESQUIRE, (also a briefless
barrister) I found a _Commissioner of Dutch Property_; and the
public recollect the emoluments of that office, as exposed in
1809. John Gifford, ESQUIRE, I found a _Police Magistrate_,
with a pension of 300_l._ a year besides. William Gifford,
ESQUIRE, I found sharing the profits of Canning’s anti-Jacobin
newspaper (set up and paid for by the Treasury), and with a
sinecure of 329_l._ a year besides. My BARONET I found with
rent-free apartments in Hampton Court Palace, and with what
else I have forgotten. My REVEREND John Brand I found with the
living of St. George, Southwark, given him by Lord Loughborough
(then Chancellor), he already having a living in Suffolk. My
REVEREND Ireland I found with the living of Croydon, or the
expectancy of it, and also found that he was _looking steadily
at old Lord Liverpool_. The REVEREND Herbert Marsh I found a
pension-hunter, and he soon succeeded to the tune of 514_l._
a year. Mallet Du Pan I found _dead_, but I found that he had
been a _pensioner_, and I found his widow a pensioner, and his
son in one of the public offices. And Nicholas Vansittart,
ESQUIRE, who had written a pamphlet to prove that the war had
enriched the nation, I found, O God! a _Commissioner of Scotch
Herrings_! Hey, dear! as the Lancashire men say; I thought it
would have broken my heart!
“Of all these men, REEVES and WILLIAM GIFFORD were the only
ones of talent--the former a _really learned_ lawyer, and,
politics aside, as good a man as ever lived--a clever man; a
head as clear as spring water; considerate, mild, humane; made
by nature to be an English judge. I did not break with him on
account of politics. We said nothing about them for years. I
always had the greatest regard for him; and there he now is in
the grave, leaving, the newspapers say, _two hundred thousand
pounds_, without hardly a soul knowing that there ever was such
a man! The fate of WILLIAM GIFFORD was much about the same:
both lived and died bachelors; both left large sums of money;
both spent their lives in upholding measures which, in their
hearts, they abhorred, and in eulogizing men whom, in their
hearts, they despised; and, in spite of their literary labours,
the only chance that they have of being remembered, for even
ten years to come, is this notice of them from a pen that both
most anxiously wished to silence many years ago. Amongst the
first things that Reeves ever said to me was: ‘I tell you what,
Cobbett, we have only two ways here; we must either _kiss_,--or
_kick_ them; and you must make your choice at once.’ I resolved
to kick. William Gifford had more asperity in his temper, and
was less resigned. He despised Pitt and Canning and the whole
crew; but he loved ease, was _timid_; he was their slave all
his life, and all his life had to endure a conflict between his
pecuniary interest and his conscience.
“As to the rest of my _’Squires_ and other dignified
pamphleteers, they were a low, talentless,
place-and-pension-hunting crew; and I was so disgusted with the
discoveries that I had made, that I trembled at the thought of
falling into the ranks with them. Love of _ease_ was not in
me; the very idea of becoming _rich_ had never entered into my
mind; and my horror at the thought of selling my talents for
money, and of plundering the country with the help of the means
that God had given me wherewith to assist in supporting its
character, filled me with horror not to be expressed.”
FOOTNOTES
[1] The Right Hon. George Rose, M.P., a Government official, and one
of the luckiest sinecurists of his day. His “success” in life aroused,
alternately, the ridicule and the wrath of his cotemporaries:--
“George Rose, Esq., Secretary to the Treasury, &c., &c., &c., &c., &c.,
&c., &c.”--Mathias: “Pursuits of Literature.”
“_Greedy_:--George Rose’s moderation, and not satisfied.”--Pigott’s
“Political Dictionary” (1796).
“Who in his lifetime held situations worth 10,000_l._ per annum,
and whose family, it has been calculated, received in principal and
interest, nearly two millions of the public money.”--“Black Book; or
Corruption Unmasked” (1820).
Mr. Rose was, nevertheless, one of the best public servants this
country ever possessed.
[2] “Council dinner: Hammond, Canning, Frere, Malone; Cobbett, _alias_
‘Peter Porcupine,’ whom I saw for the first time; Pitt, and George
Ellis; Canning’s cousin.”--“Diary of the Right Hon. William Windham”
(Longmans, 1866), p. 430.
[3] The total population, at the same time, being less than _eleven_
millions.