debt now amounts to forty-five millions, and the whole of
    the taxes, during each of the last several years, to seventy
    millions. So that these wars have added thirty-six millions a
    year to the interest of the debt, and fifty-five millions a
    year to the amount of the whole of the taxes! This is the price
    that we have paid for having checked (for it is only _checked_)
    the progress of liberty in France; for having forced upon that
    people the family of Bourbon, and for having enabled another
    branch of that same family to restore the bloody Inquisition
    which Napoleon had put down.”

After a graphic sketch of the oppressions and the struggles, which
obtained in France, and which produced the great Revolution, the writer
proceeds:--

    “It seems, at first sight, very strange that the Government
    should not have taken warning in time. But it had so long
    been in the habit of _despising the people_, that its mind
    was incapable of entertaining any notion of danger from the
    oppressions heaped upon them. It was surrounded with panders
    and parasites, who told it nothing but flattering falsehoods;
    and it saw itself supported by 250,000 bayonets, which it
    thought irresistible.… And if you ask me how the ministers, and
    the noblesse, and the priesthood, who generally know pretty
    well how to take care of themselves; if you ask me how it came
    to pass that they did not _take warning in time_, I answer,
    that they _did_ take warning, but that, seeing that the change
    which was coming would deprive them of a great part of their
    power and emoluments, they resolved to _resist the change_, and
    to destroy the country, if possible, rather than not have all
    its wealth and power to themselves.

    “You have been represented by the _Times_ newspaper, by the
    _Courier_, by the _Morning Post_, by the _Morning Herald_,
    and others, as the Scum of Society. They say that you have no
    business at public meetings; that you are rabble, and that you
    pay no taxes. These insolent hirelings, who wallow in wealth,
    would not be able to put their abuse of you in print, were
    it not for your labour. You create all that is an object of
    taxation; for, even the land itself would be good for nothing
    without your labour. But are you _not_ taxed? Do you pay no
    taxes? One of the correspondents of the Board of Agriculture
    has said that care has been taken to lay as little tax as
    possible on the articles used by you. One would wonder how a
    man could be found impudent enough to put an assertion like
    this upon paper. But the people of this country have so long
    been insulted by such men, that the insolence of the latter
    knows no bounds.

    “The tax-gatherers do not, indeed, come to you and demand
    money of you; but there are few articles which you use, in the
    purchase of which you do not pay a tax. On your shoes, salt,
    beer, malt, hops, tea, sugar, candles, soap, paper, coffee,
    spirits, glass of your windows, bricks and tiles, tobacco. On
    all these, and many other articles, you pay a tax, and even on
    your loaf you pay a tax, because everything is taxed from which
    the loaf proceeds. In several cases the tax amounts to more
    than one-half of what you pay for the article itself; these
    taxes go, in part, to support sinecure placemen and pensioners;
    and the ruffians of the hired press call you the Scum of
    Society, and deny that you have any right to show your faces at
    any public meeting to petition for a Reform, or for the removal
    of any abuse whatever! Mr. Preston, whom I quoted before, and
    who is a member of parliament, and has a large estate, says
    upon this subject, ‘Every family, even of the poorest labourer,
    consisting of five persons, may be considered as paying in
    indirect taxes, at least ten pounds a year, or more than half
    his wages at seven shillings a week!’ And yet the insolent
    hirelings call you the _mob_, the _rabble_, the _scum_, the
    _swinish multitude_, and say that your voice is nothing; that
    you have no business at public meetings; and that you are, and
    ought to be, considered as nothing in the body politic! Shall
    we never see the day when these men will change their tone?
    Will they never cease to look upon you as brutes? I trust they
    will change their tone, and that the day of the change is _at
    no great distance_!

    “With what feelings must you look upon the condition of your
    country, where the increase of the people is now looked upon as
    a curse! Thus, however, has it always been, in all countries,
    where taxes have produced excessive misery. Our countryman, Mr.
    Gibbon, in his history of the Decline and Fall of the Roman
    Empire, has the following passage:--

    “‘The horrid practice of murdering their new-born infants
    was become every day more frequent in the provinces. It was
    the effect of _distress_, and the distress was principally
    occasioned by the intolerable burden of taxes, and by the
    vexations as well as cruel prosecutions of the officers of the
    Revenue against their insolvent debtors. The less opulent or
    less industrious part of mankind, instead of rejoicing at an
    increase of family, deemed it an act of paternal tenderness
    to release the children from the impending miseries of a life
    which they themselves were unable to support.’

    “But that which took place under the base Emperor Constantine,
    will not take place in England. You will not murder your
    new-born infants, nor will you, to please the corrupt and the
    insolent, debar yourselves from enjoyments to which you are
    invited by the very first of nature’s laws. It is, however,
    a disgrace to the country, that men should be found in it,
    capable of putting ideas so insolent upon paper. So, then,
    a young man arm-in-arm with a rosy-cheeked girl, must be a
    spectacle of evil omen! What! and do they imagine that you are
    thus to be _extinguished_, because some of you are now (without
    any fault of yours) unable to find work? As far as you were
    wanted to labour, to fight, or to pay taxes, you were welcome,
    and they boasted of your numbers; but now that your country has
    been brought into a state of misery, these corrupt and insolent
    men are busied with schemes for getting rid of you. Just as if
    you had not as good a right to live, and to love, and to marry
    as they have! They do not purpose--far from it--to check the
    breeding of sinecure placemen and pensioners, who are supported
    in part by the taxes which you help to pay. They say not a word
    about the _whole families_ who are upon the pension list. In
    many cases, there are sums granted in trust for the children of
    such a lord or such a lady. And while labourers and journeymen,
    who have large families too, are actually paying taxes for the
    support of these lords’ and ladies’ children, these cruel and
    insolent men propose that they shall have no relief, and their
    having children ought to be _checked_! To such a subject no
    words can do justice. You will feel as you ought to feel; and
    to the effect of your feelings I leave these cruel and insolent
    men.”

The following paragraph is against the republicans, of which there were
many advocates, born of the troublous times:--

    “I know of no enemy of reform, and of the happiness of the
    country, so great as that man who would persuade you that we
    possess _nothing good_, and that all must be torn to pieces.
    There is no principle, no precedent, no regulation (except
    as to mere matter of detail), favourable to freedom, which
    is not to be found in the laws of England or in the example
    of our ancestors. Therefore, I say, we may ask for, and we
    want, _nothing new_. We have great constitutional laws and
    principles, to which we are immovably attached. We want great
    _alteration_, but we want nothing new. Alteration, modification
    to suit the times and circumstances; but the great principles
    ought to be, and must be, the same, or else confusion will
    follow. It was the misfortune of the French people, that they
    had no great and settled principles to refer to in their laws
    or history. They sallied forth and inflicted vengeance on their
    oppressors; but, for want of settled principles to which to
    refer, they fell into confusion; they massacred each other;
    they next flew to a military chief to protect them even against
    themselves; and the result has been what we too well know.
    Let us, therefore, congratulate ourselves, that we have great
    constitutional principles and laws, to which we can refer, and
    to which we are attached.

    When journeymen find their wages reduced, they should take
    time to _reflect on the real cause_ before they fly upon their
    employers, who are, in many cases, in as great, or greater,
    distress than themselves. How many of these employers have, of
    late, gone to jail for debt, and left helpless families behind
    them! The employer’s trade falls off. His goods are reduced in
    price. His stock loses the half of its value. He owes money. He
    is ruined; and how can he continue to pay high wages? The cause
    of his ruin is the _weight of the taxes_, which presses so
    heavily on us all, that we lose the power of purchasing goods.
    But it is certain that a great many, a very large portion,
    of the farmers, tradesmen, and manufacturers, have, by their
    supineness and want of public spirit, contributed towards the
    bringing of this ruin upon themselves and upon you. They have
    _skulked_ from their public duty. They have kept aloof from, or
    opposed, all measures for a redress of grievances; and, indeed,
    they still skulk, though ruin and destruction stare them in
    the face.… Instead of coming forward to apply for a reduction
    of those taxes which are pressing them as well as you to the
    earth, what are they doing? Why, they are applying to the
    Government to add to their receipts by passing _Corn Bills_;
    by preventing _foreign wool_ from being imported; and many
    other such silly schemes. Instead of asking for a reduction of
    taxes, they are asking for the _means of paying taxes_! Instead
    of asking for the abolition of sinecure places and pensions,
    they pray to be enabled to continue to pay the amount of those
    places and pensions! They know very well that the salaries of
    the judges and of many other persons were greatly raised, some
    years ago, on the ground of the rise in the price of labour and
    provisions; why, then, do they not ask to have those salaries
    _reduced_ now that _labour_ is reduced? Why do they not apply
    to the case of the judges and others, the arguments which they
    apply to you? They can talk boldly enough to you; but they are
    too great cowards to talk to the Government, even in the way of
    petition!

    I have no room, nor have I any desire, to appeal to your
    passions upon this occasion. I have laid before you, with all
    the clearness I am master of, the causes of our misery, the
    measures which have led to those causes, and I have pointed out
    what appears to me to be the only remedy--namely, a reform of
    the Commons’, or people’s, House of Parliament. I exhort you
    to proceed in a peaceable and lawful manner; but, at the same
    time, to proceed with zeal and resolution in the attainment of
    this object. If the skulkers will not join you, if the ‘decent
    fire-side’ gentry still keep aloof, proceed by yourselves.
    Any man can draw up a petition, and any man can carry it up
    to London, with instructions to deliver it into trusty hands,
    to be presented whenever the House shall meet. Some further
    information as to this matter in a future number. In the
    meanwhile, I remain, your friend, WM. COBBETT.”

Such, then, was the clarion, which was to awaken the working-classes
of England; to systematize their thoughts, and to give definiteness to
their aims.

And such was, also, the stuff which was to terrify, for a little while
longer, our dear old friends “Law and Order.” While the hundreds of
thousands were welcoming this new gospel, were learning a practicable
path for their bewildered feet: the partisans of Government were
absolutely dazed, blinded, with terror; and their horror at the
growth of liberal opinions (otherwise, “the floodgates of sedition”)
completely disabled them from discussing domestic politics with any
semblance of calmness. As for the mediocrities in power,--they had
succeeded in keeping out the shifty Whigs; but here was a third party
coming to the front, with claims as good as their own, and promising
to acquire a force which they might withstand in vain. Ministers, in
short, were alarmed; and they announced their resolve, in the words of
Lord Liverpool, to pursue the “Stern path of Duty!” Lord Sidmouth (now
Home Secretary), whose qualities for statesmanship no person, other
than his royal patron, had been able to discover since he left the
Speaker’s chair in 1802,--was at his wits’ end. And minor lights, as
Mr. Wilberforce, sighed and groaned over so much blasphemy as was rife,
Cobbett’s being “the most pernicious of all.”

The course of the Stern Path, as regards the subject of these pages,
must be described in another chapter. Meanwhile, the immediate
consequences of the publication of the first cheap _Register_ remain to
be noted.

All sorts of means were taken to hinder the circulation of the now
ubiquitous journal. Booksellers who sold the _Register_ were threatened
with loss of custom; publicans were threatened with the withdrawal of
their licences; hawkers and pedlars were threatened with the police.

Cheap opposition pamphlets were started.[5] The newspapers, which had
been pretty quiet concerning Mr. Cobbett’s merits, ever since 1812,
now began again:[6] the _New Times_ coming out with a specially grand
affair, headed “COBBETT against COBBETT,” which was subsequently issued
as a broadside.

And a very serious charge did they bring against this “_convicted
libeller_,” this “_firebrand_,” this “_brutal ruffian_,” this
“_convicted incendiary_,” this “_hoary miscreant_,” and his “_ferocious
journal_.”[7] In what, then, had he manifested this brutality,--this
ferocity? By lacerating the naked back of another of his labourers?
Running off with another man’s wife? Setting fire to barns and ricks?
Defrauding the stock-exchange?

None, none of these things. The criminal was proved, by overwhelming
evidence,--“out of his own mouth” indeed--to have formerly denounced
Reform!!! Sad fellow!

FOOTNOTES

[1] This reverend gentleman’s memory is still green, down at Botley.
T---- (_æt._) 81 will tell you of his being horsewhipped by the parish
doctor; and of his being called by Mr. Cobbett an abominable liar, at
which the assembled villagers cheered. Baker wanted the parish clerk
to thrash his wife for not going to church, and showed him the size of
stick with which he might legally do it. He was forthwith told to try
it on Mrs. Baker first. H---- (_æt._) 78 will call to mind the doctor
and the parson “having sparring-bouts together in the vestry.” This
man tells a good story about Cobbett, who wanted his people to work,
on some special occasion, on a Sunday, agreeing beforehand to pay them
double. The day’s work being done, a grand dinner was provided, during
which C. went round the table and put everybody’s money in front of
him. This being done, he said, “Now, if you do go to h---- for working
on a Sunday, don’t go and say you ben’t paid!”

[2] News from the provinces, in February, 1814:--

“Hampshire.--Mr. Cobbett continues to write his celebrated _Political
Register_ from his estate at Botley, in this county, uniting in his
own person, in their completest sense, the character of agriculturist,
patriot, and man of letters. Some of his late numbers, on the novel
positions and pretensions of the belligerent powers, are distinguished
above all his former writings for their masculine eloquence, power of
reasoning, and courageous delineation of truth.”--_Monthly Magazine_,
xxxvii. 93.

[3] Cobbett got up a requisition for a county meeting, but the High
Sheriff refused to entertain the plan. Being thus foiled, he actually
sent up a petition to the House of Lords, praying them not to pass any
law to prohibit or restrain the importation of corn. Earl Stanhope was
prepared to present the petition, but received it too late.

[4] “At this time [1816] the writings of William Cobbett suddenly
became of great authority; they were read on nearly every cottage
hearth in the manufacturing districts of South Lancashire, in those
of Leicester, Derby, and Nottingham; also in many of the Scotch
manufacturing towns. Their influence was speedily visible; he directed
his readers to the true cause of their sufferings--misgovernment; and
to its proper corrective--Parliamentary reform. Riots soon became
scarce, and from that time they have never obtained their ancient vogue
with the labourers of this country.… Instead of riots and destruction
of property, Hampden clubs were now established in many of our large
towns and the villages and districts around them. Cobbett’s books were
printed in a cheap form; the labourers read them, and thenceforward
became deliberate and systematic in their proceedings.”--Samuel
Bamford: “Passages in the Life of a Radical” (London, 1844).

[5] _E.g._, “The Friend of the People,” price threepence,
“occasionally” (Chapple, Pall Mall). Of this there were five
“occasions.”

“Anti-Cobbett; or, The Weekly Patriotic Register” (from the _New
Times_), which appeared about eight times.

“The Detector; an Occasional Paper” (Hatchard). We cannot “detect” the
existence of more than four such papers.

These were all on similar lines: extracts from, and references to, the
days of Porcupine, spiced with transparent falsehood.

[6] “We believe it is now some five or six years since the _Times_
journal put down the work entitled _Cobbett’s Weekly Register_,
and sunk its author into obscurity and contempt.… Since that time
we had thought that his journal had wholly dropped to the ground,
some other writers, such as those of the _Independent Whig_ and
_Examiner_, who were more virulent and impudent than himself, having
sprung up. We learned, however, lately, that Cobbett’s _Register_
was still in existence, having crept on in obscurity for a series of
years.”--_Times_, Nov. 14, 1816.

[7] For the context, whence these choice epithets are extracted, _vide_
_Quarterly Review_, 1816-17, _passim_.

CHAPTER XXII.

“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?”

CHAPTER XXIII.

“WHATEVER OTHER FAULTS I MAY HAVE, THAT OF LETTING GO MY HOLD IS NOT
ONE.”

Among the topics which, of recent years, had been current matter for
discussion, our relations with the United States were not the least
important. The dispute, arising from repeated violations of neutrality
on the part of England, which ultimately led to the war of 1812, was
the fruit of purely administrative errors; and had nothing to do with
the popular sentiment of this country. The two nations had become
reconciled, for fifteen years past; and, had it not been for the
arbitrary assumptions put forth by the British Government, on the basis
of our alleged naval supremacy, every aspect gave promise of close
international friendship.

It may be said, however, that the contest had its beneficial side.
The peace, which ensued, has never since been broken: quite as much,
perhaps, because conciliation has since become the ruling idea in
English foreign politics, as on account of any fanciful beliefs in the
abstract inutility of war. The last lingering traditions, as to the
possibility of the Yankees being coerced, were banished from the minds
of English statesmen by the events of this naval war; and, such point
gained, the fogs of many minor prejudices naturally disappeared.

Of those persons who, with pen in hand, aided in the solution of the
questions in dispute with, and in the enlightenment of the people
concerning, the United States of America, there is none whose services
can be compared with those of the subject of these pages. Whilst the
London press was encouraging the Government, besides misleading the
people as to the real nature and prospects of the conflict, Mr. Cobbett
was declaring, as he had been declaring from the first: that the points
in dispute would have to be given up, or the war would last for years.
Mr. Cobbett’s patriotism, and Mr. Cobbett’s decency were, as usual,
called in question; but the “points” were unreservedly relinquished,
and Mr. Cobbett was right, once more.

So, it came to pass that another reconciliation ensued besides that
between the two peoples. The Republicans of New York and Philadelphia
discovered that Peter Porcupine was not such a vile wretch after all.
They read his _Register_, and reprinted portions of it.[1] They sent
him newspapers. And one effusive committee, of Albany, New York, sent
him a suit of clothes (“made of cloth manufactured in this State, from
wool grown within it.”)[2]

There followed, of course, effusiveness on the part of Mr. Cobbett.
Theirs was a free country, where the truth might be spoken and written,
without fear of an Attorney-general; there were still many political
evils rampant there, but the mass of the people were enlightened; they
would produce their own wool, in spite of the Yorkshire clothiers;
they would soon have a fleet, have manufactures, take the lead in
agriculture, and set an example to the world of civil and religious
liberty. And, he expressed his great pleasure, nay pride, that his
weekly essays were thought worthy of being moulded into pamphlets and
books, for the use of the free American nation.

All this led, at last, to closer intercourse, and, upon repeated
difficulties occurring with the Post Office, Mr. Cobbett resolved
to attempt an American edition of the _Political Register_, with
the twofold object of cementing these pleasant relations, and of
allowing a little more freedom in the handling of certain delicate
matters. Accordingly, an office was opened in New York, early in 1816,
(under the care of one Oldfield, and a nephew, Henry Cobbett), for
the purposes of this republication. This was not, however, an affair
of long continuance; its failure being partly due to post-office
vigilance, by means of which a good deal of the MS. despatched to
America found its way into the office of Lord Castlereagh.

It will be understood, then, that there were plenty of inducements
for a short visit to the United States. And, upon landing at New York,
early in May, 1817, Mr. Cobbett found that he had rightly judged the
temper of the Americans; for he was immediately surrounded with new
friends; while old ones from Pennsylvania turned up from time to time.

His first step, the day after his arrival, was to cross into Long
Island and look about for a farm: an object of no very great
difficulty. The next was to begin writing to his “beloved countrymen.”
And the next may be guessed from the fact, that, on the day that his
countrymen once more read the _Register_ in the middle of July, a crop
of peas was gathered which he had himself sown.

The farm in Long Island soon became the house of call for emigrants
from England. Farmers who had “escaped from the tax-gatherer,”
and had brought out the remnant of their fortunes; journeymen and
labourers, “escaping from tyranny;” countrymen, fleeing from ruin and
starvation--even tradesmen, in despair, were flocking over; besides
numbers of people who, from their previous training or occupations,
were unfit for emigration. And the people of England, in consequence,
knew more about life in America than they ever knew before.[3]
Intermingled with the usual comments and warnings on current politics,
Mr. Cobbett gave his readers minute and graphic details of his mode
of life, and of the happiness and comfort around him: with no taxes,
tithes, nor game-laws; no excisemen, spies, nor packed juries; no
Castlereaghs, Eldons, Ellenboroughs, nor Sidmouths; labourers with
plenty to eat and drink;--a fine climate, good neighbours, and a
wide-spreading scene of general comfort and well-being; for everybody
who came out resolved to work with honesty and spirit.

Of course, all these glowing accounts would sometimes bring out the
wrong sort of men. Not only the lazy, who had estimated the prospects
of emigration without including the important factor of hard work:
but agents, and land-jobbers, and superficial gallopers through the
country; many of these were induced to come, and went home again to
tell of their disgust, at not finding the riches of the country flow
into their open mouths.[4]

Upon the whole, Mr. Cobbett must be considered to have greatly
benefited his fellow-countrymen by his short settlement in Long Island;
not only by truthful and painstaking accounts of the modes of life,
and the resources of the country, but by his oft-repeated inculcation
of industry, perseverance, and the moral virtues. But this is not all.
This period saw the commencement of what is, in some respects, the
most useful part of Mr. Cobbett’s career; that part, namely, during
which he served the cause of sound popular education.

His purpose, to this end, is first announced in a letter to Mr. Benbow,
one of the recently imprisoned printers under the “Gagging” Act:--

    “I now proceed to develope my plan for assisting in the
    acquirement of book-learning all those against whom the
    Borough-mongers have, in a great degree, closed the door to
    such learning, and whom they have the insolence to denominate
    the ‘Lower Orders.’ To effect this object it is my intention
    to publish, at a very cheap rate (though the word _cheap_ may
    shake the nerves of Sidmouth and Canning to jelly)--at a very
    cheap rate it is my intention to publish--First, ‘An English
    Grammar for the use of apprentices, plough-boys, soldiers,
    and sailors.’ Second, ‘A History of the Laws and Constitution
    of England,’ for the use of the same description of persons.
    Third, ‘A History of the Church and of Religion in England,
    in which will be seen the origin of the present _claims_ of
    the clergy, and in which their _duties_ will also be shown,’
    for the use of the same description of persons. Fourth, ‘A
    view of the present state of the Income, Debt, and Expenses
    of the Kingdom; its Population and Paupers; its causes of
    Embarrassment and Misery, and the means of Restoration to ease
    and happiness,’ for the use of the same description of persons.”

The plan was not carried out in its entirety; although much of the
material was furnished, in one form or other, in the pages of the
_Register_ during the ensuing years of its course. The idea, at any
rate, was pursued in the numerous essays on history and political
economy presented to his readers from time to time. As for the Grammar,
that was put in hand at once, and was published in London in December,
1818.

The success of the “English Grammar” was what might have been expected.
Ten thousand copies were sold in a few weeks; a third edition being
called for before the end of February. And it holds its own to this
day--not as a class-book, for which it is unfit from its verbosity
and its odd mixture of politics and humour; but for the purpose of
self-education, for which it is of unrivalled value.

The Grammar had been preceded, in London, by “A Year’s Residence
in America,” which purported to give current information as to the
condition and prospects of the country, besides a journal of his own
proceedings. Mr. Cobbett’s hands were, therefore, full of work as ever;
and his mind full as ever of thoughts concerning his own country. He
tells Major Cartwright (who had written to inform Cobbett that he might
safely return home) that he has begun several works, which, if he does
not finish them now, he is sure he never shall. A little later, he
writes to Henry Hunt, that he shall move the moment he thinks that he
can do more good that way than by remaining; feeling quite certain as
to the final issue of the great cause.

And he tells his readers that he has, in no sense, abandoned England:
that the farther he is distant from England the stronger he always
finds his attachment toward her. A year’s absence had cooled his
resentment; while it had, if possible, added to his feelings of
affection toward his countrymen. “All the good that he had left behind
was constantly in his thoughts, while the bad gradually became less and
less frequently thought of.”

Not that, however, the warfare upon Corruption was to cease. He was
there “to uphold the honour of England,” and to “aim deadly blows
against her tyrants.” And no better proof of the need of his lash could
be found, than is furnished by the continued attacks upon his character.

But he had the ear of millions of people, who were suffering, more or
less undeservedly, from the tyranny and misgovernment of irresponsible
persons; and what was it, that the supporters of the Irresponsible
classes continued their falsehoods and malignity? So the _Register_
pursued its wonderful course, “skimming over the face of the Atlantic
like the dove, of the innocence of which it partook;” and still finding
its way into thousands of English cottage homes.

The governing principle of Mr. Cobbett’s political leanings was,
still, his hatred of a paper-currency. And, in the year 1819, upon
hearing that Parliament was preparing to authorize an early resumption
of cash payment on the part of the Bank of England, he foresaw the
inevitable panic and distress which must further ensue, before the
country could again tread the path of prosperity. Hence, he thought,
the opportunity for the Parliamentary Reformers: the certainty that the
cause would be nearer of attainment; and he at once prepared for his
return home. There was little to keep him in Long Island, separated
from the bulk of his family: a farm was easily disposed of; and an
accidental fire upon the premises--which caused him to seek shelter
in a tent, “the walls of which were made of _Morning Chronicles_ and
_Couriers_, pasted upon laths that were a foot asunder,”--only gave
occasion for expediting his departure.

There was, however, another “duty” (as he deemed it) to perform before
leaving the soil of America. That self-imposed task was one of the most
difficult, one of the most delicate, to which a man might lend himself:
the attempt to do honour to a name which the world had chosen to scorn.
The severest test, which Mr. Cobbett had ever yet applied to public
opinion, was now to be outdone; for the name in question was that of
THOMAS PAINE.[5]

Chalmers’s life of Paine, written in 1792, had merits of its own, which
suited the violent and depraved taste of the times. It speedily ran
through many editions; and no one contributed more to its circulation
than Peter Porcupine, who reprinted it in his _Censor_ of September,
1796, “interspersed with remarks and reflections.” But a neophyte
writer, ardent in cotemporary loyalism, reading and greedily sucking-in
the venomous plausibilities of Chalmers, is one thing: the same person
coming to read, in his days of maturity, Paine’s eloquent pleadings
against oppression and misrule, is another; especially if maturity
of strength and wisdom has brought with it a full admission of old
weaknesses: renunciation of ignorance and folly. So Mr. Cobbett
found that Thomas Paine was not such a blackguard: not so deserving
of the abuse which he had helped to pour upon him; and proceeded,
accordingly, to make reparation, by extolling Paine’s merits as a
writer (whilst, however, condemning his theology), and recommending the
writings to his friends, whenever opportunity served. That which had
led him to study Paine for himself was “The Decline and Fall of the
English System of Finance,” a pamphlet in which Paine had distinctly
foretold the bursting of the paper-money bubble; and the reader will
understand Cobbett’s great enthusiasm, upon the discovery that Paine’s
elucidations furnished him with a key to what he considered the leading
peril of the nation.

All this, however, might have casually passed into the catalogue of Mr.
Cobbett’s “inconsistencies,” without attracting special notice, but for
the following circumstances:--

Paine had wished to be buried in the Quaker burial-ground of New York;
but the request was denied--the principal alleged reason being that
many persons had already accused the sect of Deism, and that, if they
allowed this interment, the accusation would have a circumstance to
rest upon. Mr. Paine was, therefore, buried in the corner of one of his
own fields.

In September or October, 1819, the land having been previously sold,
with a reservation of that particular spot, the person, whose business
it was to take care of that little corner, was so sensible of the risk
of disturbance to Paine’s ashes that he commenced a negotiation for the
purpose of having them transferred to a New York churchyard. The utmost
that could be obtained was “leave to put them in the ground in a refuse
place, where strangers and soldiers and other friendless persons were
usually buried.”

Under these circumstances, Mr. Cobbett (whose farm lay only a few miles
off from New Rochelle) resolved that Paine’s bones should “really have
honourable burial!”

    “Paine lies in a little hole under the grass and weeds of an
    obscure farm in America. There, however, he shall not lie,
    unnoticed, much longer. He belongs to England. His fame is the
    property of England; and if no other people will show that they
    value that fame, the people of England will. Yes, amongst the
    pleasures that I promise myself, is that of seeing the name of
    Paine honoured in every part of England; where base corruption
    caused him, while alive, to be burnt in effigy.”

Now this, be it observed in passing, was quite in accord with Cobbett’s
habitual notions as to the reverent treatment of the dead; as any
industrious reader of him well knows.[6]

He now proceeded to keep the subject alive by frequent references; and,
at last, announced that the coffin had been taken up, and would be sent
off to England in the same condition as it was found.

    “We will honour his name,” he says, “his remains and his
    memory, in all sorts of ways. While the dead Borough-mongers,
    and the base slaves who have been their tools, moulder away
    under unnoticed masses of marble and brass, the tomb of this
    ‘Noble of Nature’ will be an object of pilgrimage with the
    people.… Let this be considered the act of the Reformers of
    England, Scotland, and Ireland. In their name we opened the
    grave, and in their name will the tomb be raised. We do not
    look upon ourselves as adopting _all_ Paine’s opinions upon
    all subjects. He was a great man, an Englishman, a friend of
    freedom, and the first and greatest enemy of the Borough and
    Paper System. This is enough for us.”

So, with this unusual piece of luggage in his possession, Mr. Cobbett
returned to England, reaching Liverpool at the end of November, 1819,
in company with his son William.

The conspiracy panic had well-nigh died away. But, in August, 1819,
the memorable occurrence, known as the Manchester massacre, was the
means of reanimating the fears of ministers, through the spirit of
indignation which it had roused throughout the land. Parliament was
called together in November, for the purpose of fresh repressive
legislation; the product of which was the celebrated series, known as
the _Six Acts_.[7]

It was at this juncture that Mr. Cobbett met his friends again at
Liverpool: to the dismay of some, who told him that he was “jumping
into the lion’s mouth:” to the joy of the great body of Reformers, who
hastened to testify their gratification by every means in their power.
From the towns of Yorkshire and Lancashire, especially, the Reformers
crowded forward with addresses of welcome: in spite of the revived
opposition of authority--opposition which was displayed in an unusual
manner; as, when a poor fellow was put into jail, for going round
the town of Bolton with the crier’s bell, in order to announce Mr.
Cobbett’s safe return. Into jail, for ten weeks![8]

There was no need for violence on either side. As for Mr. Cobbett,
he was constantly urging that “our cause” was “too good for any
violence:” that he would have nothing to do with Reformers who called
themselves Republicans. His first essays, after his return, are models
of temperateness and wisdom: advice to the prime minister upon the
condition of the country, and advice to the Reformers on sobriety and
frugality: writings which would have raised a new man to immediate fame
and fortune. But, they came from an old offender, whose unasked advice
had too long been a terror. Violence, on the part of Mr. Cobbett’s
opponents, did not cease--and he had, unfortunately, by his own
imprudence, placed the means of violence in their hands. In the first
place, the incident of Paine’s bones, coming at the time it did, was
enough to damn any man’s reputation for discretion as to the fitness
of things--nothing could have been more inopportune. In America, it
was true, people were beginning to understand Paine, and republish
his works. But in England, he was known only by his theology; and was
branded as an Atheist, by the hirelings who could not, or dare not
try to, refute him. No name on earth was buried beneath such a weight
of obloquy. So, nothing could be easier, nothing so effective, as to
couple the two names. And any fool who chose to call Mr. Cobbett an
atheist, upon the word of some “constitutional” pamphleteer, could
do so. As for the unfortunate bones, there never was such a joke! An
ephemeral literature actually sprung up, on the topic[9]--whilst, from
the custom house officers at Liverpool, startled at the unexpected
importation,--to the man who now has them in his possession: from the
man who recorded the arrival of the “bone-grubber,” to our very latest
historical sketcher: the affair has been a laughing-stock.

And it cannot be said that this derision is altogether unmerited. Mr.
Cobbett ought to have known his countrymen well enough, to remember
that “relics” of this sort are thrown away upon them. He should have
known that such a freak as his could only be safely performed, by
an organized and influential public movement; and then, only, with
a certainty of having to face disagreeable controversy. That the
bones will be wanted, some day, may be safely predicted; knowing
what we do of THE WHIRLIGIG OF TIME. But the business of raising a
monument, recording the wisdom and political virtues of Thomas Paine,
will scarcely be within the scope of that man’s powers who “stands
alone.”[10]

Again, a subject which had greatly disturbed the minds of Mr. Cobbett’s
friends was his relation with Sir Francis Burdett. The latter had
advanced money to Cobbett (or to Wright for him), and there appeared
little probability of its being repaid. Mr. Cobbett had acknowledged
the debt (with some sort of protest, however), and promised to repay
it, after he was enabled to provide for his family again.

Sir Francis Burdett had already inspired suspicion, in the breasts
of the Reformers, as not being in earnest. He had called upon the
people, for several years past, to “rally” and to “come forward,”
and so on; but would back out of it at a critical juncture. He was
still “Westminster’s pride and England’s glory,” in the hands of
a Westminster clique; but, when the troubles of 1816-1817 began,
he seemed to shrink from the cause of Reform. Perhaps he dreaded
Republicanism, or had some other good reason for his backwardness.
Certain it is, that, just before the opening of parliament in 1817,
when all the leaders were wanted at their posts, Burdett was not there.
And, upon Lord Cochrane proposing an amendment to the Address, which
would have at least produced debate, Sir Francis allowed the motion
to drop without a seconder. Now, this was so much like all the Whig
popularity-hunting; and this end so much like the end of that,--that
Cartwright and all the hearty Reformers ceased to put great faith
in Burdett; and Mr. Cobbett only spoke the feelings of all, when he
indignantly pointed out what was very like a betrayal of the cause. The
only explanation that appears to have been obtained from Burdett was a
protest against “being used as a puppet.”

Among the newspaper anecdotes which synchronized with Cobbett’s
departure for America, was one concerning the debt of 3000_l._ to Sir
Francis. This was the first the public heard of it. And, upon Mr.
Cobbett proceeding to castigate Burdett for his lukewarmness, people
called it “ingratitude” and “inconsistency.” This, however, might
have been treated with contempt, but for the publication of some
correspondence in the _Examiner_, which made it appear that Mr. Cobbett
meant to repudiate the debt; a construction which it was quite possible
to form, without knowing all the circumstances, and by the easy process
of reading “extracts.”[11]

So, after Cobbett’s return from America, almost till the last year of
his life, his money-affairs with Burdett were repeatedly cropping up,
both in the newspapers and in the _Political Register_. The matter is
not creditable to either of the parties. And when, after Cobbett’s
death, upon a proposal to raise some kind of memorial, Sir Francis sent
the 3000_l._ bond to the committee, telling them that they could take
his subscription out of that; it looked a very unworthy proceeding on
the part of a man, who had really owed a vast deal of his popularity
and distinction to Mr. Cobbett’s zealous advocacy. Burdett’s vanity
was at least equal to Cobbett’s egotism; and neither could forgive the
other, after their special weaknesses had been shown up at each other’s
hands. Several endeavours at reconciliation were made, on the part of
mutual friends, but they ended in nothing.

Another episode, of this period, gave still more trouble to Mr.
Cobbett. There was an influential batch of politicians in Westminster,
of which Francis Place was one of the leaders. Their liberalism went
in the line of electoral purity, and verged toward Republicanism; and
their favourites were Burdett and Hobhouse. At the election of June,
1818, Henry Hunt stood as a candidate, and this clique (known as the
Rump Committee) opposed him with all their might. The secretary and
agent was one Thomas Cleary, who had given much aid as promoter of
Hampden clubs throughout the country, and was studying as a barrister.
Mr. John Wright was connected with this set; and, being in possession
of several hundred of Cobbett’s old letters,[12] found one among them
which reflected strongly upon Hunt’s private character. We have already
perused it, as the reader will recollect.[13] Wright showed this to
Francis Place, and Place showed it to Cleary, who read it out to the
electors, on the first opportunity: adding, “In the language of Mr.
Cobbett, I have only to say, ‘He’s a sad fellow, beware of him.’” So
electoral purity draws the line at some point or other: in this case,
at the point outside of which lies a detestable breach of confidence.

The consequences may be imagined. Mr. Cobbett first heard of it through
the medium of a New York paper, and lost his temper over it. Both
Cobbett and Burdett had associated with Mr. Hunt, of late years: had
gone sporting with him, and had even been under the same roof with “the
lady.” This was stronger in Mr. Cobbett’s recollection than the memory
of his first scanty acquaintance with Hunt; and a hasty note, written
more than ten years ago, had entirely faded from his memory. So he, in
his first outburst of anger, charged Cleary with forging the letter;
and, afterward, on several occasions, represented Wright as a rogue,
“unparalleled in the annals of infamy;” giving his readers a graphic
story of how the latter had falsified accounts; and how his little son
had been a witness (in Newgate) of the “big drops of sweat standing
upon the caitiff’s brow,” upon the occasion of his detection.

Now, this was quite indefensible. And the only excuse that can be made
is that Mr. Cobbett had been gradually losing his habitual coolness
and calmness in the face of calumny. Instead of his old habit of
treating it with contempt, he had begun the practice of answering
misrepresentation: the very thing that your scandal-monger likes. And,
in this case, three thousand miles away, with at least three months’
interval between a calumny and the possibility of a retort; and with
a growing habit of nursing political and personal grievances: it is
no wonder that he flew into a passion; and, in the end, so exposed
Mr. Cleary that many of the latter’s friends refused to have any
more dealings with him, or even to hold discourse with him. So, upon
Cobbett’s return to England, Cleary challenged him to fight; of course
to no purpose. He then brought an action, laying the damages at two
thousand pounds. The jury showed what they thought of the matter, by
awarding him forty shillings.[14]

A few days afterward, the case of _Wright_ v. _Cobbett_ was heard.

This was a more serious affair. The imputations against Wright were
quite needless, even if they could be justified. And the defendant, at
the last moment, withdrew his plea of justification from the record,
and based his defence upon the fact that his son (and not himself) was
the present proprietor of the _Register_: that his sons were in the
habit of altering his manuscript at their discretion. These technical
pretences, so commonly resorted to, might have answered very well in
the hands of a practised lawyer; but, with the “defendant in person,”
it was like a child playing with edged tools. And against Scarlett,
too, one of the cleverest counsel of the day; a man who hated the
Reform set; and who had, in the House of Commons, alluded to Cobbett
as a “contemptible scribbler,” and, on the present occasion, could go
out of his way to say how much he approved of Cobbett’s early estimate
of Paine, and his former writings generally. He maintained that the
letter which Cleary read, and which had caused all the trouble, was
one intended for publication, although the judge (at the former
trial) had very strongly reprobated Cleary’s conduct. Whilst he, of
course, enjoyed a complete triumph over the withdrawal of the plea of
justification, and the clumsy efforts of the defendant to make his sons
responsible.

The folly and conceit of appearing “in person” was never more signally
exemplified; especially as Mr. Cobbett had, just then, his hands full
over the poor Queen,[15] and over his own chaotic pecuniary affairs;
and it was sufficiently punished by the result. The jury deliberated
for nearly two hours, and brought in a verdict of 1000_l._ damages.

These things were “much against him,” as Lord Brougham would say. The
press got into the way of saying that Cobbett had lost all character,
and all respect, and so on. New pamphlets came out: the patriot was
really down, this time; and his fate squared so neatly with all that
had been predicted of him, and of every subverter of the constitution.

But, there are reputations, and reputations:

    “Pygmies are pygmies still, though perch’d on alps,
    And pyramids are pyramids in vales!”

And, whilst a good name is not to be thought lightly of, it is not
every one’s esteem that can be considered man’s best and highest
reward. The hollow, specious, moral judgments of mankind, when under
the dominion of prejudice, are not the standards by which to judge the
men of life and earnestness: the men whose convictions, and not whose
personal interests, mark their path. And, in the case in point: the
moral judgment of all the toad-eaters and the place-hunters of the day
could hardly be a desirable standard, wherewith to gauge the character
of a man whose faults lay just upon the surface; whose faults could, by
no possible twist or distortion of idea, be shown to proceed from bad
impulses.[16]

What “interests” Mr. Cobbett had, were now unmistakably identified with
those of the labouring classes of England; and, at last, he had got a
good hearing from those classes. The distinction of classes, wantonly
and unnecessarily proclaimed for twenty years past, was now confirmed;
and the ten years of George the Fourth’s reign mark the period of
conflict which was partly the result of this forced distinction. The
end of this conflict, and the ultimate triumph of the popular cause,
is matter of history: the bloodless reformation of 1832 has saved
the British Constitution, instead of destroying it. That triumph of
principles was the work of neither Whig nor Tory. It came from the
provoked and suffering people themselves. The greater the provocation,
the deeper the suffering,--the more certain was to be the end: and
from them, alone, it came. And, as more light is thrown, from time to
time, upon these stirring days, the better can we see who were the real
leaders and guiders in Reform; and who was the greatest of them all.
For, until this SAMSON arose, the progress of the cause had been little
better than a series of ridiculous evasions and desertions.

FOOTNOTES

[1] _Niles’s Register_, published at Baltimore, a weekly journal of
extended influence, had begun by abusing Cobbett, but speedily found it
was better worth while to reprint his writings concerning America. Some
of the independent republications were,--

“Porcupine Revived; or, An Old Thing Made New. Being (1) An Argument
against the Expediency of a War with England; (2) An Exposition of the
Absurdity of sending Albert Gallatin to treat with the British. By
William Cobbett, Esq.” (New York, 1813.) The editor is a Federalist,
and thinks it surprising that Cobbett should have described so
accurately seventeen years ago the _present_ condition of the States.

“Letters on the Late War between the United States and Great Britain,
&c., &c., by William Cobbett, Esq.” (New York, 1815). The preface is
highly eulogistic, and forgives all Cobbett’s former wickedness.

“The Pride of Britannia Humbled; or, The Queen of the Ocean Unqueen’d
by the American Cock-boats, &c., &c. Illustrated and demonstrated
by four Letters to Lord Liverpool, by William Cobbett, Esq.”
(Philadelphia, 1815). This editor is also very magnanimous.

It was a marked characteristic of the estimates formed by Cobbett’s
cotemporaries that the party, or the set, which he for the time being
appeared to support, readily overlooked his former opinions and
so-called “inconsistencies.” This applies to London, as well as to
Philadelphia. Never was a man so readily forgiven. Envy alone was his
enduring enemy, as it always is to great abilities and to superior
personal character.

[2] We get a glimpse of home over this incident:--“The youngest asked
where Albany was. He ran to the map. And then the little pamphlet from
Boston; they looked into it; they saw the same thing which they had,
one or the other of them, written at my dictation only a few months
before. Who would barter such pleasures for all the wealth and all the
titles in the world?”

[3] That cruel urgency, _want of space_, forbids the insertion here of
many a smart illustrative extract from Cobbett’s American writings.
The following must suffice, being parts of a letter “to the people of
Botley,” dated 10th November, 1818:--

“My old Neighbours,--Great as the distance between you and me is, I
very often think of you, and especially when I buy _salt_, which our
neighbour Warner used to sell us for 19_s._ a bushel, and which I buy
here for 2_s._ 6_d._ This salt is made, you know, down somewhere by
Hamble. This very salt, when brought here from England, has all the
charges of freight, insurance, wharfage, steerage to pay. It pays,
besides, one third of its value in duty to the American Government
before it be landed here. Then, you will observe, there is the profit
of the American salt merchant; and then that of the shopkeeper who
sells me the salt. And, after all this, I buy that very Hampshire salt
for 2_s._ 6_d._ a bushel, English measure. What a Government, then,
must that of the borough-mongers be! The salt is a gift of God. It is
thrown on the shore. And yet these tyrants will not suffer us to use it
until we have paid them 15_s._ a bushel for liberty to use it.…

“You are compelled to pay the borough-mongers a heavy tax on your
_candles_ and _soap_. You dare not _make_ candles and soap, though
you have the fat and the ashes in abundance. If you attempt to do
this, you are taken up and imprisoned; and if you resist, soldiers are
brought to shoot you. This is _freedom_, is it? Now we, here, make our
own candles and soap. Farmers sometimes _sell_ soap and candles, but
they never _buy_ any. A labouring man, or a mechanic, buys a sheep
now and then. Three or four days’ work will buy a labourer a sheep to
weigh sixty pounds, with seven or eight pounds of loose fat. The meat
keeps very well, in winter, for a long time. The wool makes stockings,
and the loose fat is made into candles and soap. The year before I
left Hampshire, a poor woman at Holly Hill had dipped some rushes in
grease to use instead of candles. An exciseman found it out, went and
ransacked her house, and told her that, if the rushes had had _another
dip_, they would have been _candles_, and she must have gone to gaol!
Why, my friends, if such a thing were told here, nobody would believe
it.…

“I have had living with me an English labourer. He smokes tobacco,
and he tells me that he can buy as much tobacco here for three cents,
that is about three English half-pence, as he could buy in England for
three shillings. The leather has no tax on it here; so that, though the
shoemaker is paid a high price for his labour, the labouring man gets
his shoes very cheap. In short, there is no excise here, no property
tax, no assessed taxes. We have no such men as Chiddel and Billy Tovey
to come and take our money from us; no window-peepers; no spies to keep
a look out as to our carriages, and horses, and dogs.… We may wear
hair-powder if we like, without paying for it, and a boy in our houses
may whet our knives without our paying 2_l._ a year for it.”

“I have talked to several farmers here about the tithes in England,
and _they laugh_. They sometimes almost make me angry, for they seem,
at last, not to believe what I say when I tell them that the English
farmer gives, and is compelled to give, the parson a tenth part of
his whole crop, and of his fruit, and milk, and eggs, and calves, and
lambs, and pigs, and wool, and honey. They cannot believe this. They
treat it as a sort of _romance_.…

“To another of my neighbours … I was telling the story about the poor
woman at Holly Hill, who had nearly dipped her rushes once too often.
He is a very grave and religious man. He looked very seriously at me,
and said that falsehood was falsehood, whether in jest or earnest.”

[4] There was a good deal of controversy concerning land-jobbing in
America about this time. Mr. Morris Birkbeck, a prosperous farmer at
Wanborough, in Surrey, left England with some highly coloured notions
in his mind concerning the western territories of the United States,
and produced two separate accounts, with the object of inducing British
emigrants to follow him (“Notes on a Journey in America, from the
Coast of Virginia to the Territory of Illinois,” and “Letters from
Illinois”). Cobbett gave him a letter or two, under the impression
that Birkbeck’s expectations were too fascinating. Mr. Birkbeck
was unfortunately soon afterwards drowned in crossing a river. Mr.
Henry Bradshaw Fearon, surgeon, went out under the auspices of some
emigration committee. His was a somewhat “evil report,” and amongst
other matters recorded a visit to Cobbett’s house in Long Island,
which, he said, was mouldering to decay, that the fences were in
ruins, and that the scene produced thoughts of melancholy (“Sketches
of America: a Narrative of a Journey of 5000 Miles through the
Eastern and Western States of America; with Remarks on Mr. Birkbeck’s
‘Notes’ and ‘Letters’”). The same candid pen which had endeavoured to
check Birkbeck’s too great enthusiasm now had the duty to perform of
chastising the author of these misrepresentations, and of Fearon’s
general bad account of the Americans. Mr. Benjamin Flower also
travelled westward, and sent home “Letters from the Illinois” (London,
1822). See, besides these, Faux’s “Memorable days in America” (London
1823).

[5] Mr. Paine has been variously described as a traitor, an apostate,
a seducer, an infidel, a rogue, an outcast, and--“one of the most
enlightened and benevolent men that ever lived.” The reconciling of
these things must be left to his biographer; meanwhile, the following
facts are all that are necessary to be at present noted:--Paine had
been an exciseman, and discovered that he could write by the production
of an eloquent pamphlet upon some grievance of the excise-officers.
He had written poems, and enjoyed the friendship of Oliver Goldsmith.
Being introduced to Dr. Franklin, he was induced to visit Philadelphia;
and there he wrote a pamphlet under the title of “Common Sense,” which
is generally asserted to have been a leading factor in producing the
Declaration of Independence, being read and reprinted by hundreds of
thousands. Honours came upon him; he was made Secretary to Congress
for Foreign Affairs, and remained in America some dozen years. At
the outbreak of the French Revolution, Paine was in London again,
enjoying the friendship of Edmund Burke, whom, from the part the
latter took concerning the American Revolution, Paine “naturally
considered a friend to mankind.” Mr. Burke’s celebrated “Reflections
on the Revolution in France” was, however, the means of sundering this
friendship; and the tract was answered by Paine in “The Rights of
Man,” a pamphlet which produced even more delight among the advanced
liberals of the day than Burke’s had with the terrified aristocracy.
The “answer” to Paine was his “Life,” “by Francis Oldys, A.M.” (one
of the most horrible collections of abuse which even that venal
day produced), written by George Chalmers, a Government clerk and
pamphleteer, who, by the way, did much better work as an antiquarian
and historical compiler. A second part of “The Rights of Man” followed
this, and a Government prosecution succeeded that. A verdict of guilty,
however, found the culprit a Member of the French National Convention;
for no less than four constituencies had elected him, on his reputation
alone. He sat for Calais; was near losing his head, for his vote on
the side of humanity, when Louis XVI. was arraigned; wrote “The Age
of Reason” in prison; eventually returned to America, and died (1809)
in his seventy-third year, at his farm at New Rochelle, Long Island;
which farm had been the gift of the nation about a quarter of a century
previously.

[6] As, for example, under the head “Peterborough,” in the
“Geographical Dictionary,” where Cobbett enters into a lament that to
“the infamy” of Henry VIII., “and the shame of after-ages, there is no
monument to record” the virtues and sufferings of Catherine of Arragon,
who lies beneath the floor of the Cathedral; that the remains of Mary
Queen of Scots had been taken thence to Westminster Abbey, while those
of the _virtuous_ queen were suffered to remain unhonoured, &c.

[7] To Prevent the Training of Persons to the Use of Arms.

For the more effectual Prevention and Punishment of Blasphemous and
Seditious Libels.

To Authorize the Seizure and Detention of Arms on the part of Justices
of the Peace.

To Subject certain Publications to the Newspaper-Stamp Duty.

For more effectually Preventing Seditious Meetings and Assemblies.

To Prevent Delay in the Administration of Justice in Cases of
Misdemeanour.

[8] “Authority” must have been in a terrible fright, if we may judge
from the following (from the _Statesman_ [London] newspaper, Dec. 2,
1819):--

“Manchester, Nov. 29.--Expected arrival of Mr. Cobbett.--Though the
morning was very rainy, the expectation of Mr. Cobbett’s arrival in
this town attracted great numbers of persons from different parts of
the country. The local authorities were on the alert, and military
arrangements were made, which were as formidable as those of the 16th
of August. Several pieces of cannon were brought into the town last
night, but the yeomanry cavalry had received no orders, nor did they
make their appearance to-day. Hussars were stationed on different parts
of the Liverpool road, in order to give immediate information of Mr.
C.’s movements.”

The Borough reeves and constables placarded the town, recommending the
people to keep within doors, and also addressed Mr. Cobbett, informing
him that if he made a public entry into Manchester, it would be their
“indispensable duty immediately to interfere.”

The Reformers met this with a counter-placard:--“No procession.--In
consequence of a placard posted this morning (joined with military
arrangements, similar to those which preceded the fatal 16th of August
last), … the _real friends_ of peace (the principal Reformers of
Manchester) request the public not to give the fiends of St. Peter’s
another opportunity of shedding innocent blood, but to stay at home,
and thus disappoint them of their prey.”

[9] “Ode on the Bones of the Immortal Thomas Paine, newly transferred
from America to England, by the no less immortal William Cobbett, Esq.”

“Sketches of the Life of Billy Cobb and the Death of Tommy Pain,
compiled from Original Documents obtained in an Original Manner.”

“The Real or Constitutional House that Jack Built,” has a cut of
Cobbett shouldering a coffin. The character of this pamphlet may be
judged by the following, addressed to the “first gent:”--

    “This is the prince of a generous mind,
    The friend of his country and all mankind,
    Who, lending his ear to the dictates of truth,” &c.

As for the newspaper rhymesters, the episode of “Cobbett and Paine”
was quite a godsend to them. And the reader who knows anything of
election-squibbing will recall his own delights, when he thinks of the
fun the Preston and Coventry people came to have over these poor bones.

[10] Oddly enough, there was another case of “bone-grubbing,” just
after this escapade of Cobbett’s. The remains of Major André were
exhumed and brought to England; and, considering that that unlucky
officer met with the usual fate of a detected spy, the circumstance
afforded Mr. Cobbett a fair opportunity of returning some of the
pleasantries. As André’s name has not yet been dropped from the
biographical dictionaries, his story will be found in “Chambers’s
Encyclopædia,” and elsewhere.

[11] _Vide_ “Correspondence between Mr. Cobbett, Mr. Tipper, and
Sir Francis Burdett.” “A Letter to the Friends of Liberty, on the
Correspondence, &c., by Thomas Dolby.” “A Defence of Mr. Cobbett,
against the Intrigues of Sir Francis Burdett and his partisans.”

[12] Which letters, preserved in two quarto volumes, have happily
become the property of the nation.

[13] _Vide_ page 65.

[14] Brougham was Cleary’s counsel. Cobbett very ably defended himself,
and produced one of his best jokes on this occasion. Referring to
the plaintiff’s diminished prospects at the bar, alleged to be in
consequence of these events, he added, “It was held to be a crime, even
by poachers, to destroy young birds; and how criminal, then, must he
(the defendant) be, if he really had _crushed a lawyer in the egg_!”

[15] Cobbett’s action with reference to Queen Caroline is another of
those matters which caused unmitigable hatred on the part of the “first
gent” and his ministers. He had contributed, during the year 1811, to
the republication of the notorious “Book,” the entire impression of
which was supposed, till then, to have been destroyed. On the Queen’s
return to England, in 1820, the Reformers took up her cause with great
zeal, under some impression that their own was identified therewith.
Whilst Brougham, and Denman, and the leading Whigs patronized her in
public; Dr. Parr, Alderman Wood, and Mr. Cobbett were at her elbow
behind the scenes. The celebrated letter from the Queen to the King
(which was returned unopened, but read with eager delight by all the
nation) was from Cobbett’s pen.

The whole story is graphically told by Cobbett, in the “History of the
Regency and Reign of George IV.,” and his cotemporary articles will be
found in the _Registers_ of 1820.

[16] Among the anti-Cobbett literature of this period which has not
utterly perished, may be named,--

“The Political Death of Mr. William Cobbett” (Edinburgh, 1820), a short
collection of slanders, intermingled with just sufficient truth to
float it.

“The Book of Wonders” (London, 1821), an occasional publication. The
second number was a _verbatim_ report of the trial in Wright _v._
Cobbett, illustrated with notes.

“Cobbett’s Gridiron: written to warn Farmers of their Danger, and to
put Landowners, Mortgagees, Lenders, Borrowers, the Labouring, and
indeed all Classes of the Community on their Guard” (London, 1822).

“The True Patriot,” No. 1, May 15, 1824,--should have been entitled
“The Truthful Hypocrite.”

“Cobbett’s Reflections on Religion,” and “Cobbett’s Reflections on
Politics” (Sunderland, _circa_ 1820-1), were “loyal” selections from
his early writings.

“The Gridiron; or, Cook’s Weekly Register.” First number, March 23,
1822. Here are specimens of it:--

[“Our present intention is, principally, to exterminate Cobbett from
the political world. The time required to effect this, of course,
cannot be distinctly defined.…

“In our immediate attacks upon Cobbett, we request our readers to
excuse the coarseness of the language adopted.”

“Farmers’ wives.--It is now but a few years since that an old
shameless, wicked fellow rose up from his bed to pray for your
husbands’ destruction. This wicked fellow’s name is no other than
Cobbett,” &c.]

No. 2 speaks of the increasing demand for the first number. No. 3
is reduced to sixpence, for the purpose of affording a more general
circulation. No. 4, ?????

All this anonymous rubbish did more good than harm, as obvious
hypocrisy always will, under similar circumstances. A more respectable
opponent was Henry White, a well-known Whig writer of the day. People
said he was jealous of Cobbett. He was a very able man, and had himself
been well abused by the _Times_ and other papers, on account of his
strict partisanship. After many years of animadversion, he produced
“A Calm Appeal to the Friends of Freedom and Reform, on the Double
Dealings of Mr. Cobbett, and the baneful tendency of his Writings. With
a vindication of the Whigs, and the Patriots of Westminster and the
Borough of Southwark, against his Scurrilous and Malignant Aspersions.
By Henry White, late editor of the _Independent Whig_, the _Charles
James Fox_, the _Independent Observer_, the _Sunday Times_, the _Public
Cause_, &c., &c.” (London, 1823). Referring to his own party, White
says, “What virtue, what wisdom, what real patriotism there is in the
country, he knows _they_ possess.”

CHAPTER XXIV.

“THEY COMPLAIN THAT THE TWOPENNY TRASH IS READ.”

The ruin which was overtaking all the agricultural interest during
the last years of the Regency, put a finishing stroke to the little
estate at Botley. It had been heavily mortgaged for some years past;
and upon Mr. Cobbett’s return from America, he found himself stripped
of everything in the shape of realizable property. The profits from
the _Register_ were comparatively smaller than of old; for, although
the circulation was prodigious, the expense of its distribution was
also very great. The establishment of another daily paper[1] probably
added to his pecuniary difficulties. At last there was no resource
but bankruptcy, which took place in the course of 1820. The creditors
were few, and acted very generously; and Mr. Cobbett afterwards refers
to them with the kindliest feelings. One of them, indeed (Mr. George
Rogers, of Southampton), went further; and paid the damages and costs
in Wright’s action, which followed very soon after the certificate in
bankruptcy was issued. The low ebb at which his fortunes now stood, are
best described in Cobbett’s own words:--

    “In January, 1821, my family, after having for years been
    scattered about like a covey of partridges that had been sprung
    and shot at, got once more together, in a hired lodging at
    Brompton; and our delight, and our mutual caresses, and our
    tears of joy, experienced no abatement at our actually finding
    ourselves with only _three shillings_ in the whole world; and
    at my having to borrow from a friend the money to pay for the
    paper and print off the then next Saturday’s _Register_!”

To live in London, however, or even near it without “fruits and
flowers,” was out of the question. Accordingly, we find Mr. Cobbett
soon settled at Kensington, cultivating a plot of land as a seed-farm;
and his politics and his satire are, thenceforth, mingled with the
mysteries of trees and turnips, corn and apples. Unable to resume the
practice of planting, for himself, upon a large scale, Mr. Cobbett
gave a great impulse to the formation of plantations, on the part of
gentlemen who could afford to do it. His old friend, Lord Folkestone,
was especially encouraged to improve the grounds at Coleshill by
further plantings, and covered many acres with his favourite acacia,
then better known under its American name of locust-tree. So great,
indeed, became the rage for this particular tree, that more applicants
came to Kensington for the seeds than could be served with those
imported from America; and Cobbett actually had to purchase them
sometimes from the London nurserymen, in whose shops they were lying
neglected under another name.

The story of Cobbett’s planting and seed-farming would make an
interesting volume. It became the fashion, after his death, to decry
his successes,[2] and to minimize his qualities as a farmer; and
perhaps with some justice, as regards this latter part of his life, as
his hands were always too full of more stirring matters. But he did
unquestionable service to the art of planting; and in promoting the
restoration of woods and coppices, which had so fatally suffered from
the felling and clearing brought about by the war, and by the efforts
made by so many persons to save their property by the sacrifice of its
timber. And, besides this practical part of the business: ever ready
to put his notions into print, he must needs produce more books, in
order to popularize his plans; books, however, which have met with
comparative neglect, of late years, on account of their special nature.
Rural economy and domestic economy are matters which, treated as social
arts, get so modified by the rapidly-changing currents of our time,
that the mode of one generation is lost amid the fads of the next. But
the peculiar merit of Cobbett’s books was their readableness; and,
whilst such matters as the Currency and the Corn Laws could be rendered
entertaining by his facile pen, it was natural that rural affairs, in
which he delighted, and amongst which he heartily believed that the
highest domestic felicity was to be found, should derive from that pen
the highest charms. There never lived, probably, a writer to equal
Cobbett in rural description: one who could, in the midst of some angry
polemic, so readily turn off for a moment and present his reader with a
country picture; perfectly life-like, glowing with colour and realism:
who could make a mere gardening book entertaining.

Whilst in Long Island, Mr. Cobbett had prepared an “American Gardener,”
which he published, soon after his return to England; dedicating it to
one of his neighbours out there. The “English Gardener,” published a
few years later, was a reproduction of this, adapted to the differing
conditions of his own country. “The Woodlands,” published early in
1825; a new edition of Tull’s old book on “Horse-hoeing Husbandry,”
in 1822; and a guide for the cultivation of Indian corn, completed
a useful series of books on rural affairs. All these are marked by
sufficient egotism; but they are far more practical than the general
run of such works. There is so much painstaking description, and so
much lively illustration, that the reader is forced to take an interest
in what he is reading. It is almost impossible for one to take in hand
the “Woodlands,” without wishing to become a planter.

The “Cottage Economy” was a small work, exclusively for the use of
cottagers, with the aim of bringing them back to the habits and ways of
their grandparents; in reviving the arts of making bread and brewing
beer at home; of keeping cows, poultry, and bees; and, generally,
showing the way to become independent of shopkeepers and tax-gatherers.
All this Cobbett had seen in his youth, and he was determined to revive
these things, if it was to be done. And the immediate popularity of
these rural books, coming, as they did, at a period when people were
making most desperate efforts to keep the wolf from the door, showed
forth an unquestionable fact,--that the people wanted sympathy and
guidance, and the means of self-improvement, and were well satisfied
to get so much from the man who was fighting their battles for them in
another way.

As one example of the amount of influence Cobbett obtained over people,
in minor domestic matters, the following may be given:--From a farmer’s
daughter in Connecticut, who had sent over to the Society of Arts a
straw-bonnet of her own making, he obtained some particulars as to the
mode of preparation. Having published the matter in the _Register_,
an importer of Italian straw applied to Mr. Cobbett, requesting to
know whether he could undertake to get some American straw imported.
Upon seeing some samples of the straw from which the Leghorn hats were
made, and looking at it “with the eyes of a farmer,” he perceived
that it consisted of dry oat, wheat, and rye stalks, mixed with those
of certain common grass plants. This discovery made it clear to him
that there was no need of importation; and, proceeding in his usual
energetic way, he soon had straw hats and bonnets prepared from English
grasses. This opened up a new industry, not only in the homes of the
labourers, but on the part of some manufacturers; and its success was
so far recognizable, that the Society of Arts, in the year 1823, gave
Mr. Cobbett their silver medal, as a token of their approbation. ENVY
caught sight of this, of course, and asserted itself as usual, with
newspaper paragraphs headed, “The Society of Arts humbugged at last!”
and so on; but what was that, to disturb the well-earned delight of the
man who could ride about the country, and see and hear for himself
many a poor cottager at work, otherwise unable to earn a livelihood:
who could print letters of grateful thanks from every quarter of the
kingdom?

The attempt to naturalize the maize plant was another singular effort
of Mr. Cobbett’s; the complete success of which, however, was too much
to expect from the English climate. But, by the application of a good
deal of zealous labour and attention, many persons did succeed in
producing good crops; and there was not only bread made from “Cobbett’s
corn,” but paper was made from the stalks.

A most particular aversion of Mr. Cobbett’s was the potato.

    “This root is become a favourite because it is the suitable
    companion of misery and filth. It can be seized hold of before
    it be half ripe, it can be raked out of the ground with the
    paws, and without the help of any utensils except, perhaps,
    a stick to rake it from the fire, can be conveyed into the
    stomach, in the space of an hour. We have but one step farther
    to go, and that is, to eat it raw, side by side with our
    bristly fellow-creatures, who, by-the-bye, reject it as long
    as they can get at any species of grain, or at any other
    vegetable. I can remember when the first acre of potatoes was
    planted in a field, in the neighbourhood of the place where I
    was born; and I very well remember that even the poorest of
    the people would not eat them. They called them hog-potatoes;
    but now they are become a considerable portion of the diet of
    those who raise the bread for others to eat.”

This passage is from a Botley _Register_, of 1813; but it will
represent Cobbett’s notions and feelings on the matter during all his
life--from the scarcity-period at the beginning of the century (when
bills were introduced in Parliament to “encourage” the growth of
potatoes; and Ministers of State, at their grand dinners, used fried
potato-cakes, as a substitute for bread), to the time when he came to
predict a disastrous Irish famine. And it would be hard to deny the
force of his arguments; the burden of which was, that in order to keep
a people in a condition of semi-barbarism, little else was necessary
than to cause potatoes to be the general food of the country. A knife
(he pointed out) which even savages rarely dispense with, is not
required by the feeder on potatoes. No forethought, and only a minimum
of industrious attention, are needed. The love of ease, so natural to
mankind, soon prevails, in the absence of incitement to labour--a safe
commonplace; but one of vital importance to be borne in mind, when the
thoughtless, and the ignorant, and the purse-proud are content to see a
whole class of their fellow-beings ranked just above the swine.

Some curious notions used to get afloat, concerning cheap food for the
poor. There was the Duke of Richmond’s celebrated discovery of the
nourishing qualities of curry-powder; and the recipe of another clever
fellow, for making _flint-soup_. Milk, produced by animals fed upon
stewed straw, was discovered to have great fattening properties.…

Yet, with all this considerate device, the ungrateful wretches still
whined for their beer and bread and bacon, the dietary of their
forefathers. And the editor of a certain “diabolical” publication
persisted in telling them that they ought to have it, and they could
have it; for, at the time that the ordinary Wiltshire fare was _1¼
pound of bread and a halfpenny_ per day, he was giving to his own
labourers, at Barn Elm, 1 lb. of meat or bacon, 1½ lb. of flour,
besides cheese and beer, per day; and three shillings a week in money.

And there was so much wanton cruelty and insolence, under the
poor-relief system of those days. Gangs of labourers would be set to
work, the leader having a bell round his neck; men were set to _draw_
carts, like so many convicts, instead of using wheel-barrows; and,
when there was no immediate work on hand, you might see one carrying a
heavy stone up and down; or digging a hole in the ground one day, and
filling it up again the next. How all this went on, in England, for ten
or twelve years, scarce half a century ago, is past comprehending. It
is, however, a fact, that people could not only permit it, but permit
it without shame; and could venture to call those persons “diabolical
villains,” who blushed for the country which proclaimed itself “the
envy of surrounding nations.”

Those who blushed for their country: those who spent their lives in
the endeavour to arrest the hand of her oppressors: justly scorned the
pleas of submission and contentment, put forth by many well-meaning
persons in the shape of “religious” tracts. The man before us (one of
that class who practise a good deal more than they preach; who act
righteously before they inculcate righteousness on the part of others)
could only see, in these precious handbills, inducements to submit to
social degradation. But, in truth, acute suffering on the part of the
labouring-classes was teaching them as much as Mr. Cobbett, or any one
else, could do. To see the name of some fat pluralist on the title-page
of a tract against “repining;” to listen to advice and exhortation,
based on the comforting prospects of another and better world, on the
part of men who were themselves making sure of this one; to see the
names of the committees and promoters of this officious piety, and find
that they were, in many instances, the names of those who had given
a helping-hand to repression; and who continued to inculcate passive
obedience, and the extreme naughtiness of the poor wretches in wanting
to know something about the real causes of their misery, was too much
for millions of the unprivileged and unendowed. They could see, plainly
enough, who were the real Sowers of the Wind. And, perhaps, the Church
of England has come to see, for herself, how we have reaped a whirlwind
of religious indifference; in spite of “revivals,” and “restorations,”
and “extensions,” and “functions,” and potterings without number.[3]

Not the least important contribution to the cause of the people, on
the part of Mr. Cobbett, was his “History of the Reformation.” A
curiosity in literature; a clumsy, hastily-drawn indictment; the sport
of Protestant controversialists; the work yet served a noble purpose.
The scale of misrepresentation and calumny had been too long on one
side, and there wanted a thumping weight to restore the balance. And
when the world discovered that the story of the Reformation in England
had its very dark as well as its very bright side: when people learned
what utterly selfish ends it had promoted: the world took a long step
forward; stepped up to scrutinize it closely. And if the world found
that the rough rude hand of this literary pre-raphaelite had brought
some features into disgusting prominence, it was no more than was to be
expected, sooner or later. The mere controversy, concerning the mutual
recriminations of Papists and Protestants, and concerning their cutting
of each other’s throats, is nothing. All that will be going on when the
New Zealander comes. But the political nature of that great convulsion,
and its important social results, particularly with regard to the
shameless transfer of property into the hands of court-favourites, had
need to be shown up with a relentless hand.

The occasion, of this “History of the Reformation” being projected, was
the rapidly-growing feeling on the subject of Emancipation. Mr. Cobbett
had long proclaimed equality of political rights for the Catholic,
the Unitarian, and the Jew; and regarded them as oppressed people,
as long as their theological disabilities remained.[4] We laugh
now-a-days, at such fears as then existed concerning the removal of
these disabilities; but we are out of the wood; and the few persons of
superior mental stature who, in those times, persisted in declaring to
the cowards beneath them, that there was more safety in moving on, than
in standing still, had to make their voices heard above a fearful din,
of incrimination, and calumny, and petty party strifes.

So, by the time that the cause of Emancipation had taken hold of the
public mind: when the press, at last, took it up warmly, and O’Connell
was leading the agitation in Ireland: Cobbett had lashed himself into
a perfect fury, toward the opponents of religious equality, and toward
the inheritors of the Church domains. The ease-loving character of
the parsons of his day, the growth of a plutocracy, and the debased
condition of the poor: spake too ominously of national decadence. The
increasing perils of the country, with all parties trying, at last, to
propitiate the Parliamentary Reformers at the same time that they had
mortal dread of them, kept his mind at fever-heat; and Mr. Cobbett was
less than ever disposed to stay his voice or his pen, when conviction
had once seized him. He had nothing to gain, and nothing to lose, by
expressing his convictions. Given a fight, he was certain to be seen in
the thickest of it.

The urgency of the matter, and the readiness of the public mind to
accept a broader view of the Reformation story, were shown, by the
immediate success of the History. Published weekly, at a low price,
the early numbers reached a sale of upwards of forty thousand; and
very little time elapsed, before the work had flown all over Europe
and America. The fanatics did not like it, and they don’t like it
now.[5] There are persons about us, in these latter days, who consider
Emancipation as one of our great national sins, on account of which we
shall yet be heavily scourged. “LET THEM CURSE, BUT BLESS THOU!”

The thing did not aim at proselytism; the writer had no intention, nor
any expectation, of that. He did expect, however, to see thousands
and thousands of converts to the cause of tolerance; and there can
be no doubt whatever, that Cobbett’s “History of the Reformation”
gave immense impulse to that cause. And, if the book had only been
called “The History of the Great Spoliation,” the fanatics would have
been disarmed, and perhaps joined with the author in his passionate
denunciations; instead of wilfully and wickedly misconstruing his
motives, and distorting his arguments.

But the prejudice with which we go through the world is quite as gross
as the ignorance with which we enter it; and when we have stuck up such
a word as _Reformation_, and fallen down and worshipped it for a time,
we soon become incapable of forming just judgments.

The list of Mr. Cobbett’s books, which were directly intended to help
the cause to which his life was devoted, is complemented by adding to
the above-named, “The Poor Man’s Friend;” “Twelve Sermons;” and “The
Emigrant’s Guide.” The first of these he called the most learned work
that he had ever written. It consisted principally of short papers on
the rights and duties of the poor; which were published monthly, and
addressed to the working-people of Preston, after his unsuccessful
contest at the election. But the Sermons are better deserving of the
palm of superiority. The reader cannot open a page of this volume,
without being powerfully struck with Cobbett’s ability to handle any
subject illustrating man’s duty to his neighbour. Of course, there is a
little touch of politics underlying it all, although only perceptible
to one familiar with his political writings; but it is not one whit too
much to say, that this volume of sermons would do honour to any Divine,
in any Christian Church.

The “Sermons” had a tremendous popularity, for several years. As
monthly tracts, they had been originally published in avowed rivalry
to the vapid productions of religious doctrinaires, and of the
preachers of contentment and resignation under conditions of obvious
misgovernment. Some of the clergy had the good sense to use Cobbett’s
sermons in their own pulpits; it is to be hoped without generally
avowing the source of their inspiration. One reflection persists in
intruding itself upon the reader of these tracts; that when men come
to enter the ministry, after having been buffeted about the world a
bit, and having learned something of human nature, instead of being
delivered from a cloister (as from some manufactory), they will
understand their business better, and soon have less cause to whine
about the “spread” of infidelity and immorality. Until then, things
will go on as they do now.

That racy volume, “Rural Rides,” came forth to the world in a
sufficiently unpretending manner. It was a mere reprint of articles
from the _Register_, which had been generally written at the close of
a day’s journey, and without any special object but current reports
upon the condition of the people and the country. But none of Cobbett’s
writings have been so much quoted as the “Rural Rides,” a fact which
is easily understood, considering the circumstance that what would
deter most people from literary drudgery, was the very reverse to Mr.
Cobbett. A day’s exercise would impart fresh vigour to his mind, and
wings to his pen; and the result is, in this case, one of the very
liveliest books in the English language.

It was in the autumn of 1821 that the first journal was undertaken.
Cobbett’s own affairs were getting more comfortable; he lived quietly
at Kensington, not often troubling himself with the publishing-office;