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Nearly two years had elapsed, before Cobbett’s life was disturbed by any greater excitement than would be furnished by his daily pursuits as a teacher of the French language. Even in Philadelphia, where party spirit was strong, and antipathy to England was particularly manifest, a busy, hard-working man, with his bread to earn, and who had no natural taste for politics, had no need to interfere—and Cobbett would not have interfered, probably, had not the occasion been brought about almost by accident. The little republicanism which had leavened his mind, whilst in London, had disappeared, when he came to see more of human nature in his new country; and the municipal contests, and the flaring speeches and writings, which excited less industrious minds, had no charm for him. “Newspapers,” he says, “were a luxury for which I had little relish, and which, if I had been ever so fond of, I had not time to enjoy.”

But a circumstance occurred, about the middle of the year 1794, which aroused Cobbett’s native spirit; and offered, at the same time, an opportunity for its exercise:—

“One of my scholars, who was a person that we in England should call a coffee-house politician, chose, for once, to read his newspaper by way of lesson; and, it happened to be the very paper which contained the addresses presented to Dr. Priestley at New York, together with his replies. My scholar, who was a sort of republican, or at best, but half a monarchist, appeared delighted with the invectives against England, to which he was very much disposed to add. Those Englishmen who have been abroad, particularly if they have had time to make a comparison between the country they are in and that which they have left, well know how difficult it is, upon occasions such as I have been describing, to refrain from expressing their indignation and resentment; and there is not, I trust, much reason to suppose, that I should, in this respect, experience less difficulty than another.

“The dispute was as warm as might reasonably be expected between a Frenchman, uncommonly violent even for a Frenchman, and an Englishman not remarkable for sang-froid; and, the result was, a declared resolution, on my part, to write and publish a pamphlet in defence of my country, which pamphlet he pledged himself to answer; his pledge was forfeited; it is known that mine was not. Thus, sir [he is addressing Mr. Pitt], it was, that I became a writer on politics. ‘Happy for you,’ you will say, ‘if you had continued at your verbs and your nouns.’ Perhaps it would: but the fact absorbs the reflection; whether it was for my good, or otherwise, I entered on the career of political writing; and, without adverting to the circumstances under which others have entered on it, I think it will not be believed that the pen was ever taken up from a motive more pure and laudable. I could have no hope of gain from the proposed publication itself, but, on the contrary, was pretty certain to incur a loss; no hope of remuneration, for not only had I never seen any agent of the British government in America, but was not acquainted with any one British subject in the country. I was actuated, perhaps, by no very exalted notions of either loyalty or patriotism; the act was not much an act of refined reasoning, or of reflection; it arose merely from feeling, but it was that sort of feeling, that jealousy for the honour of my native country, which I am sure you will allow to have been highly meritorious, especially when you reflect on the circumstances of the times and the place in which I ventured before the public.

“Great praise, and still more, great success, are sure to operate, with young and zealous men, as an encouragement to further exertion. Both were, in this case, far beyond my hopes, and still farther beyond the intrinsic merits of my performance. The praise was, in fact, given to the boldness of the man who, after the American press had, for twenty years, been closed against every publication relative to England, in which England and her king were not censured and vilified, dared not only to defend but to eulogize and exalt them; and, the success was to be ascribed to that affection for England, and that just hatred of France, which, in spite of all the misrepresentations that had been so long circulated, were still alive in the bosoms of all the better part of the people; who openly to express their sentiments, only wanted the occasion and the example which were now afforded them.”

Joseph Priestley was one of the most estimable of men. Among those who have thrust back the barriers of Ignorance, he holds no mean place, whether as a student of natural philosophy, or as a Christian teacher. But he belongs to a period when the Pioneer had to suffer for his opinions.

Born in 1733, he early evinced the qualities of a thorough student, mastered several European and Eastern languages, spent his spare cash in scientific instruments, and entered the ministry as an inflexible opponent of the cruel notions of “eternal wrath.” He was a man rather inclined to take always the heterodox side of things, as one who had discovered that most popular doctrines, in politics and religion, were founded on baseless traditions. Priestley’s contributions to science brought him within the fold of the Royal Society; and he was pursuing his studies at the same time that he had charge of an important dissenting congregation at Birmingham, when the French Revolution broke out, in 1789. By this time he was known as an ardent and honest controversialist, and had numerous warm friendships among the advanced Liberals of London and Paris; and his position at Birmingham was becoming hazardous, on account of the denunciations he underwent on the part of the orthodox in Church and State. Matters came to a crisis in the summer of 1791; when, a feast being held for the purpose of celebrating the fall of the Bastille, a mob assembled, highly strung with loyalty; which, after disturbing the diners, broke the windows of the hotel, proceeded to demolish Priestley’s and another meeting-house, his dwelling, and the houses of several other influential dissenters. In short, there was a genuine riot, for which the county had to pay.

And Dr. Priestley had to leave Birmingham. Nor did three years of London life, with the fierce controversies of the day, serve to console him. Having succeeded his friend, the celebrated Dr. Richard Price, as pastor of a meeting at Hackney, he fought alternately with French sceptics and with English “divines;” but age was creeping upon him; his beloved scientific pursuits were being neglected; and he looked wistfully to the new land of liberty and toleration. His domestic hearth was a happy one, and he could at least take that with him wherever he went. So, in the spring of 1794, he set sail for America.

His departure, however, was the signal for a good deal of affectionate demonstration. Addresses were presented to him, and he left his native shores with the good wishes and the regrets of thousands. But, flattering as this was, it was nothing to the reception Priestley experienced on his arrival at New York. He found himself welcomed to “a country worthy of him;” to a land where reason had “successfully triumphed over the artificial distinctions of European policy and bigotry;” by those who had “beheld with the keenest sensibility the unparalleled persecutions” which had attended him in his native country.

So, the Philadelphia newspapers of June, 1794, published these addresses—the most noted of which were from the Tammany Society of New York, the Democratic Society of the same, the Republican Natives of Great Britain and Ireland resident in the City of New York, the Medical Society of New York, and the American Philosophical Society of Philadelphia. The Philadelphia newspapers, ready for all sorts of fiery attack upon England, printed these addresses in full, along with Dr. Priestley’s grateful replies. One of Mr. Cobbett’s intelligent pupils, in his studious zeal, produces such a newspaper, that his English exercises may be presented in the English of the day. As one of his own omelettes, he will have his English served up fresh; no musty Addison nor dry Delolme for him; no stale oligarchical stuff, ready for hatching into villainy and oppression; but the sweet, new-laid principles of liberty, equality, and fraternity. Which principles, as exemplified in their latest fruits, Monsieur le Maître d’Anglais abhors, with all his heart and soul.

Accordingly, there forthwith appeared an anonymous pamphlet, under the title of “Observations on Priestley’s Emigration;” consisting of a review of the circumstances which had driven the Doctor from Birmingham, and eventually from England; and a running commentary upon the republican addresses which had been presented to him. The whole tenour of the tract, however, consisted in its expressed horror of the ruin and desolation which the theorists had brought upon France, and in pointing out what would be (in the mind of the writer) the logical result of the new ideas being disseminated in England. Priestley’s emigration, in point of fact, was made the peg on which to hang an anti-revolution tirade. Certain sound principles, however, were enunciated: an extract or two will serve to show this, and, by the felicitous terms in which they are conveyed, to display the wonderful command which Cobbett had already acquired over his native tongue.

“System-mongers are an unreasonable species of mortals; time, place, climate, nature itself, must give way. They must have the same governments in every quarter of the globe; when, perhaps, there are not two countries which can possibly admit of the same form of government at the same time. A thousand hidden causes, a thousand circumstances and unforeseen events, conspire to the forming of a government. It is always done by little and little. When completed, it presents nothing like a system; nothing like a thing composed, and written in a book. It is curious to hear people cite the American government as the summit of human perfection, while they decry the English; when it is absolutely nothing more than the government which the kings of England established here, with such little modifications as were necessary on account of the state of society and local circumstances. If, then, the Doctor is come here for a change of government and laws, he is the most disappointed of mortals. He will have the mortification to find in his ‘asylum’ the same laws as those from which he has fled, the same upright manner of administering them, the same punishment of the oppressor, and the same protection of the oppressed. In the courts of justice he will every day see precedents quoted from the English law-books; and (which to him may appear wonderful) we may venture to predict, that it will be very long before they will be supplanted by the bloody records of the revolutionary tribunal.”

“Even supposing his intended plan of improvement had been the best in the world, instead of the worst, the people of England had certainly a right to reject it. He claims as an indubitable right, the right of thinking for others, and yet he will not permit the people of England to think for themselves. … If the English choose to remain slaves, bigots, and idolaters, as the Doctor calls them, that was no business of his; he had nothing to do with them. He should have let them alone; and, perhaps in due time, the abuses of their government would have come to that ‘natural termination,’ which he trusts, ‘will guard against future abuses.’ But no, said the Doctor, I will reform you—I will enlighten you—I will make you free.—You shall not, say the people.—But I will! says the Doctor. By——, say the people, you shall not! ‘And when Ahithophel saw that his counsel was not followed, he saddled his ass, and arose, and gat him home to his house, to his city, and put his household in order, and hanged himself, and died, and was buried in the sepulchre of his father.’ ”

“I am one of those who wish to believe that foreigners come to this country from choice, and not from necessity. … The most numerous, as well as the most useful, are mechanics. Perhaps a cobbler, with his hammer and awls, is a more valuable acquisition than a dozen philosophi-theologi-politi-cal empirics, with all their boasted apparatus.”

Mr. Thomas Bradford was again his publisher. The circumstance is fully related in the American autobiography:—

“When the ‘Observations’ on the Emigration of this ‘martyr to the cause of liberty’ were ready for the press, I did not, at first, offer them to Mr. Bradford. I knew him to retain a rooted hatred against Great Britain, and concluded, that his principles would prevent him from being instrumental in the publication of anything that tended to unveil one of its most bitter enemies. I therefore addressed myself to Mr. Carey.[1] This was, to make use of a culinary figure, jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire. Mr. Carey received me as booksellers generally receive authors (I mean authors whom they hope to get but little by): he looked at the title from top to bottom, and then at me from head to foot.—‘No, my lad,’ says he, ‘I don’t think it will suit.’ ”—My lad! God in heaven forgive me! I believe that, at that moment, I wished for another yellow fever to strike the city; not to destroy the inhabitants, but to furnish me too with the subject of a pamphlet, that might make me rich. Mr. Carey has sold hundreds of the ‘Observations’ since that time, and therefore I dare say he highly approved of them, when he came to a perusal. At any rate, I must not forget to say, that he behaved honourably in the business; for, he promised not to make known the author, and he certainly kept his word, or the discovery would not have been reserved for the month of June, 1796. This circumstance, considering Mr. Carey’s politics, is greatly to his honour, and has almost wiped from my memory that contumelious ‘my lad.’

“From Mr. Carey I went to Mr. Bradford, and left the pamphlet for his perusal. The next day I went to him to know his determination. He hesitated, wanted to know if I could not make it a little more popular, adding that, unless I could, he feared that the publishing of it would endanger his windows. ‘More popular,’ I could not make it. I never was of an accommodating disposition in my life. The only alteration I would consent to was in the title. I had given the pamphlet the double title of ‘The Tartuffe Detected; or, Observations,’ &c. The former was suppressed, though, had I not been pretty certain that every press in the city was as little free as that to which I was sending it, the ‘Tartuffe Detected’ should have remained; for the person on whom it was bestowed merited it much better than the character so named by Molière.

“These difficulties, and these fears of the bookseller, at once opened my eyes with respect to the boasted liberty of the press. Because the laws of this country proclaim to the world, that every man may write and publish freely, and because I saw the newspapers filled with vaunts on the subject, I was fool enough to imagine that the press was really free for every one. I had not the least idea, that a man’s windows were in danger of being broken, if he published anything that was not popular. I did, indeed, see the words liberty and equality, the rights of man, the crimes of kings, and such like, in most of the booksellers’ windows; but I did not know that they were put there to save the glass, as a free republican Frenchman puts a cockade tricolor in his hat to save his head. I was ignorant of all these arcana of the liberty of the press.

“The work that it was feared would draw down punishment on the publisher, did not contain one untruth, one anarchical, indecent, immoral, or irreligious expression; and yet the bookseller feared for his windows! For what? Because it was not popular enough. A bookseller in a despotic state fears to publish a work that is ‘too popular,’ and one in a free state fears to publish a work that is not ‘popular enough.’ I leave it to the learned philosophers of the ‘Age of Reason’ to determine in which of these states there is the most liberty of the press; for, I must acknowledge, the point is too nice for me: fear is fear, whether inspired by a Sovereign Lord the King, or by a Sovereign People.

“The terms on which Mr. Bradford took the ‘Observations,’ were what booksellers call publishing it together. I beg the reader, if he foresees the possibility of his becoming an author, to recollect this phrase well. Publishing it together is thus managed: the bookseller takes the work, prints it, and defrays all expenses of paper, binding, &c. and the profits, if any, are divided between him and the author.—Long after the ‘Observations’ were sold off, Mr. Bradford rendered me an account (undoubtedly a very just one) of the sales. According to this account, my share of the profits (my share only) amounted to the enormous sum of one shilling and sevenpence halfpenny, currency of the State of Pennsylvania (or, about elevenpence three farthings sterling), quite entirely clear of all deductions whatsoever!

“Now, bulky as this sum appears in words at length, I presume, that when 1s. 7½d. is reduced to figures, no one will suppose it sufficient to put a coat upon my back. If my poor back were not too broad to be clothed with such a sum as this, God knows how I should bear all that has been, and is, and is to be, laid on it by the unmerciful democrats. Why! 1s. 7½d. would not cover the back of a Lilliputian; no, not even in rags, as they sell here.”

The allusion to the coat was occasioned by a report, which Cobbett thought fit to notice, that Mr. Bradford had provided him with the means of procuring one. Whether the “Observations” proved remunerative or not, it is certain that the tract was immediately reprinted in London, by Stockdale, and noticed in the magazines; and we will presently refer to the comments which were raised in England by the new politician.

Meanwhile the pamphlet was read, and became notorious; and its author had discovered where his strength lay. He would prepare another onslaught upon the anti-federalists.

In order, however, that we may understand the position which Cobbett soon came to occupy as a politician, it will be necessary to take a glimpse of the leading questions which were agitating the public mind of America. The chief cities of the United States, receiving, as they did, the overflowings of European ebullition, had also their own internal squabbles, and were become so many centres of revolutionary intrigue; and the perils and the strife thus engendered opened the field of political adventure to many an aspiring mind. It was a period of terrible personal animosities, both in Europe and America: men’s friendships, and men’s reputations, never had a harder lot, in the face of differences of opinion.

The Revolution, which culminated in the Declaration of Independence in the year 1776, did not, in all respects, ultimately suit the tastes of the whole American people. A numerous section, after the immediate cause of the quarrel with the mother country had been despatched, remained “loyal;” and would have been well pleased to see re-union with England. Others, again, satisfied with Independence, were yet desirous that the Constitution should be as near as possible on a monarchical plan, with a basis of government centralized at the capital. A still larger class—daily augmented, too, by the arrival of English, Irish, and French refugees—were for republicanism pure and simple.

France had given support to the infant republic, from the first; having recognized “Independence” in 1778, and, from that date, continued to give aid in the shape of food supplies and war material, during the progress of the conflict. The treaty of peace being concluded with Great Britain, in the year 1783, and the States settling down to consider their future, it was soon discovered that the Constitution, which had first been hastily framed, was inadequate for the purposes of good government; there was no power to compel individual states, where unanimity, or, at least, general consent, was desirable.[2] A new Constitution was therefore promulgated, by which absolute power was lodged in a central Federal Congress of the States. From that date the two prominent political parties came into existence: the one, known as the Federalist, strongly in favour of centralization; the other, the anti-Federalist or Democratic party, which was for independent state sovereignty, and which was too deeply republican in its nature not to fear the risks, which centralized power would entail upon the new-born liberties of the nation. The leading partisans on the former side were Washington, John Adams, Alexander Hamilton, and John Jay; whilst Thomas Jefferson and James Madison were the most eminent among the Democratic leaders. It must be noted, however, that the statesmen of both parties were unanimous on the point of republicanism per se: their aim was one object, about which there could be no further question; their differences consisted in the consideration of the best means of attaining it.

Mr. Jefferson had been minister to France; and returned to America in 1790, to take a part in the administration. He has left upon record his experience, upon resuming his place in society, of the reaction against extreme republicanism which had already taken place;[3] other testimony, of similar bearing, could be adduced, but it is hardly necessary for our purpose, considering the amount of support which Cobbett received during the whole period of his residence in America. There seems to have been, in point of fact, a Federal majority from the very first—and, when the European war broke out, early in 1793, this section of the nation sympathized, generally speaking, with the English. A strong anti-British feeling prevailed, however, among the Democrats, which was displayed in the most fiery and intemperate language,[4] and found particular vent in a hearty enthusiasm for the French cause. The first outbreak of the French revolution was hailed with joy by the extreme republicans; and, at last, when Mr. Pitt came to think that England was called upon to declare war against France, in defence of the old European doctrines, this hatred of England was naturally intensified. Washington’s proclamation of neutrality was in vain, to check the ardour of the pen-and-ink warriors; and the constant arrival of proscribed persons was just so much fuel added to the flames. Another outbreak of war, between England and America, was even apprehended; and would have taken place, but for the moderate counsels which prevailed in the minds of Washington and his advisers.

At this juncture, there arrived as ambassador to the United States, one Genest,[5] a man eminently fitted for the useful task of stirring up strife; and it is, indeed, difficult to believe that the man was not selected with this object in view. Of the strongest republican principles, he thoroughly scorned the traditions of diplomacy; and landed at Charleston [April 1793] more with the air of a newly-appointed provincial governor than with that of envoy from a friendly nation. Several weeks elapsed before he presented his credentials to Washington: meanwhile, he was actually engaged in superintending the fitting-out of privateers! And on his arrival at Philadelphia there were festivities and congratulations, and speeches, to be attended to, before he could condescend to wait upon the President. His subsequent conduct was all of a piece with this; till, the President having found it necessary to repudiate a French vice-consul on account of his gross infractions of neutrality, Genest’s high-toned appeal upon the matter obliged Washington, at last, to consider the question of demanding his recall. This was effected in the following year.[6]

But all this did not happen without largely affecting the temper of the American people. Although Washington generously distinguished between the conduct of the minister and “the friendly spirit of the nation which sent him;” although, as Jefferson records, the Government were “determined to see, in these proceedings, but the character of the individual, and not to believe that they were by instructions from his employers,” yet it was undoubtedly a new spur to the active spirit of democracy. The Philadelphia politicians, especially, raved and stormed over the iniquities of Britain and the virtues of France.

A more serious trouble to the American Government arose, soon after the war between England and France had continued some time. As, when the young Republic was fighting for its life, they had been assisted by the French, so they now shipped large aids, chiefly in the shape of provisions, to the French ports. These cargoes were unquestionably contraband; and the British Government, holding that view, ordered that all American vessels be detained—those laden with corn to be seized—and a reasonable price to be paid for the cargoes and freights. Later on, another order was issued, directed against American cargoes which consisted of provisions and stores for the French colonies. All this naturally irritated the Americans; they considered it simply an infraction of their independence; and they were not disposed tamely to yield to a power which, in the eyes of many, was not unlikely to dream of future reconquest.

Some alarm was also aroused by the conduct of the British troops in Canada, who retook possession of certain frontier forts, which had been ceded to America at the treaty of peace. At the same time, public attention was directed to a conference held between Lord Dorchester, the Governor of Canada, and several Indian tribes; on which occasion language was held by the Governor, which seemed to carry with it a willingness on the part of England to proceed to hostilities, upon a given contingency.

Fortunately, however, the disposition of the American Administration was such, that the fury of the Democrats was powerless to disturb its equanimity; and the only serious step, which the Government was induced to take, was to lay an embargo upon the British shipping in American ports, for the space of thirty days.[7] It was necessary, however, to come to an understanding; accordingly, an envoy, in the person of Mr. Jay, repaired to England with full powers, in the hope that existing difficulties might be removed, and a proper feeling of amity be secured, between the two nations.

Mr. Jay’s mission was eminently successful, as regarded the two Governments; but the Treaty in which it resulted only served to make the breach wider, that existed between the Democrats and their opponents. His return to America was signalized by an unexampled storm of invective and abuse; and Jay had, in fact, to retire from public life.[8] The principle that the flag does not cover the merchandise was the feature which gave the greatest offence; but the real objections were sentimental, and were, in fact, brewing as soon as Jay’s appointment as envoy became known.[9] The treaty was the work of the Washington administration, the members of which were known to be favourably disposed towards England; and it was considered likely to injure the relations existing between America and France. Its opponents maintained, from the first, that the disposition of Great Britain being naturally hostile to the United States, there could be no prospect of real reciprocity; and, when the document arrived, their first thought was that its ratification would give umbrage to the French. That, if the United States could convert the evil disposition of England into one of amity and peace, the projected treaty would be too high a price to pay for the change; and if there must be war with either Great Britain or France, it were “more politic for the state, and more congenial with the sentiments of the people, to engage the former,” as France would give aid “with all the energy of her triumphant arms;” whilst, in the case of a war with France, the Americans could neither count upon the affections, nor rely upon the power, of Great Britain.

But what served, much more, to augment the numbers and vehemence of the Radical party, and to foment bad feeling between the two countries, was the constant stream of refugees from the United Kingdom. Mr. Pitt’s repressive measures were in full force; and the year 1794 witnessed some of the most glaring instances of tyranny that had been displayed in England since the days of James the Second. Frequent trials for “sedition” only served to inflame and to energize the spirit of free inquiry; and men boldly talked of revolution. Some suffered imprisonment, many more managed to escape; and of those who escaped, many found a free asylum in Pennsylvania. Some of these men were of good education and great natural ability; and all were inspired with the hopes of the day: an imminent deliverance of mankind, generally, from all kinds of despotism whatsoever.

So, this is how it was in Philadelphia, in these lively times. The most enlightened and philosophical city in the United States was, at the same time, the hot-bed of democracy: the home of all that was aspiring in the human heart and mind. Thus, we can understand something of the feelings which animate the breast of Mr. William Cobbett, ardent Loyalist. He knows little of theoretical politics; his short experience of republicanism has only, at present, served to show him that man is little better off as the subject of a sovereign people, than as a subject of a sovereign king; provided that similar constitutional principles prevail. His recollections of Tom Paine’s animated book, and his former enthusiasm for republicanism, are—as in the minds of thousands of his cotemporaries—crushed and buried beneath the torrent of blood and tears which has been shed in France. A natural reaction has set in: his native land, with all her faults, comes back to his memory as a land of average comfort and well-being; and the thought is uppermost that, perish “liberty and equality,” if all their results are to consist in a murdered king, and in the home of his childhood desolated by the bloodthirsty apostles of progress.

One of these emigrants was Mr. James Thomson Callender. His reading of English history had caused his mind to dwell, somewhat heavily, upon the underhand means which ministers and parties had used, to carry their points, during the last century. Abuses in Church and State: this is the sort of pabulum for the public taste, and Mr. Callender, accordingly, undertakes to put them all into a popular form, under the title of “The Political Progress of Britain.”[10] The result is, that he is a fugitive before many weeks are over his head, and any further attacks which he has to make, upon the government of Mr. Pitt and his predecessors, must be offered from the other side of the Atlantic. The pamphlet, republished in Philadelphia, comes under the eye of our neophyte politician, and Mr. Cobbett sniffs war. The “Political progress” presented just the sort of topic which would serve as provocation: here was another villain maligning his country, and the wretch must be made an example of.

Accordingly, on the 8th of January, 1795, Mr. Thomas Bradford has for sale, “A Bone to Gnaw for the Democrats;” consisting of a review of Callender’s book, followed by a still more daring attack upon the democratic press and upon the numerous clubs connected with the party.

The “Bone to Gnaw” was a distinct advance upon the “Observations.” The writer had evidently begun to discuss, and to wrangle. And the discovery that he had the power to wield a very vigorous pen soon brought the inclination to use it. There is a good deal of coarseness, as we should look at it now-a-days, but that was the temper of the times. The pamphlet raised up a host of enemies, whilst the number of Cobbett’s admirers proportionately increased; and readers were found, both in England and America, to give their warmest approbation.

But, among others, was “one Smith, a malignant democrat,” who had started an “American Monthly Review.” In reviewing “A Bone to Gnaw,” he endeavoured to weaken the writer’s nerve by attacking his grammar and composition. To very little purpose, except to bring Mr. Cobbett up, smiling, with a rejoinder. For, in February, was published “A Kick for a Bite,” consisting principally of a humorous lesson in the art of criticism, addressed to the editor of the Review; and in March, Part II. of “A Bone to Gnaw for the Democrats.”

It was about this date, January or February, 1795, when some newspaper correspondent likened the new federalist writer to a porcupine. The idea was instantly adopted; and Cobbett announces himself to the editor of the “American Monthly Review,” as “Peter Porcupine, at your service.” Thus arose one of the most famous of pseudonyms.[11] It was a long while before the bearer of it was generally known, i.e. beyond a very small circle of acquaintances; yet it appears that the “British Critic,” as early as Dec. 1795, had discovered the owner of the name. But the publication of a name, pseudonymous or otherwise, furnished as it were a handle for opponents; one insisted on calling him “Mr. Hedgehog,” another styled him “the pork-patriot,” and so on. Beyond the play upon words, however, and fresh showers of Billingsgate upon the British name, there was very little talent in these early attacks upon Mr. Cobbett. One of them, which has survived, is excessively tame, although the writer undertakes to wring Porcupine’s nose, and humble his vanity and presumption; and proceeds to insinuate, that he conceals himself through fear of the horsewhip; and that he is neither more nor less than an obscure pedagogue, whose moral rectitude would not bear the test of scrutiny beyond the Atlantic.”[12]

“A Bone to Gnaw, Part II.,” is taken up by a denunciation of the Society of United Irishmen, a democratic club in Dublin, which had published an account of its proceedings; and of the acts of the French Convention at Lyons, where unheard-of cruelties had just been perpetrated. The following bit of humour conveys so many ideas, illustrative of the prevailing topics of controversy, that it is worth while reproducing here:—

“It would have been unpardonable in a society like that of the United Irishmen, if, among their numerous addresses, none was to be found to the firebrand philosopher, Priestley. ‘Farewell,’ say they, in their consolatory address to him—‘farewell, great and good man! Your change of place will give room for the matchless activity of your genius; and you will take a sublime pleasure in bestowing on Britain the benefit of your future discoveries.’ Every honest man ought to wish that this were true; for the doctor has already made some discoveries of the utmost importance to future chemical emigrants, if he could be prevailed on to publish them. He might let his brethren into the secret of buying land (or rather rock) at a dollar an acre, and selling it again at ninepence-halfpenny. This is a sort of anti-chemistry, by which copper is extracted from silver; and the process by which it is accomplished must certainly be a desideratum in the learned world. The doctor might also favour curious foreigners with the feats of those American magi, vulgarly called land-surveyors, whose potent art levels the mountain with the valley, makes the rough way smooth, the crooked straight; whose creative pencil calls into being nodding woods and verdant lawns; and, like the rod of Moses, makes rivulets gush from the solid rock.

“ ‘Farewell,’ continue the United Irishmen, ‘farewell, great and good man; but, before you go, we beseech a portion of your parting prayer’ (down upon your marrow-bones, reader) ‘for Archibald Hamilton Rowan, Muir, Palmer, Margarot, and Gerald, who are now, like you, preparing to cross the bleak ocean. Farewell! soon will you embrace your sons on the American shore, Washington will take you by the hand, and the shade of Franklin look down, with calm delight on the first statesman of the age, extending his protection to its first philosopher.’ Here is certainly some mistake in the close of this farewell. What do they mean by the shade of Franklin looking down? To look down on a person one must be in an elevated situation; and I fancy it is pretty generally believed, by those who understand the geography of the invisible world, that Franklin’s shade, as it is termed, has taken a different route, &c.”

Meanwhile, the ferment of the public mind over the British Treaty was now so intensified, that the people were becoming frantic with rage. Jay was hung in effigy, and the democratic press poured forth upon his head an untiring volley of misrepresentation and abuse. In Virginia, there was an open threat of secession, in case of the treaty being ratified. At Boston, there were riots. The treaty reached America in March, but was not presented to the Senate till early in June; but its articles got wind, in some way or other, and were fully discussed by the press and the radical clubs long before being entertained by the Legislature.

An opportunity soon occurred, for Mr. Cobbett to produce another apology for Anti-Gallic principles. A pamphlet appeared, in the course of the summer, under the title of “The Letters of Franklin,” dealing with the treaty question, in a strongly dissuasive manner.[13]

In August, therefore, Mr. Bradford had another work, at the hands of the now-celebrated Peter Porcupine, entitled, “A Little Plain English, addressed to the People of the United States, on the Treaty, &c., in answer to ‘The Letters of Franklin.’ ” This is, in some respects, one of the best of Cobbett’s writings. It is almost purely argumentative, and there is a sobriety of tone, and a seriousness about its logic, which contrast well with the humour, and even buffoonery, in which he had previously indulged. There was less to joke about. His opponents (and especially this “Franklin”) were becoming illogical in their rage. Mr. Madison wanted to force all the nations of Europe, and especially Great Britain, into the acceptance of a commercial treaty; and this one, alas! was positively being carried through in a friendly spirit. England was noted for her perfidy and double-dealing, and they therefore could not make a treaty with her; but, as Mr. Cobbett pointed out, her bad character was rather a reason for binding her hands, and controlling her overreaching ways. And, as to the magnanimity of the French Republic, and its desire to “protect” its sister, it was clear that little could be hoped for on that score, seeing that she was losing part of her own colonies and making war upon the remainder; besides that it was notorious that French privateering was quite as bad as English, as far as it could go, in its depredations on American commerce. In reality, Cobbett’s aim was to deter the Americans from a French alliance, as “Franklin’s” desire was to secure it. And “Franklin,” so ridiculous as to urge the impeachment of the President, for not having courted the French, and for having sent “the slave, the coward, the traitor” Jay (of all men) as envoy to Great Britain, is fairly, but mercilessly exposed.

“A Little Plain English” soon appeared in London, being reprinted by Rivington, and was instantly welcomed with the applause it deserved. It was considered to prove, to every impartial mind, that the engagement entered into between the two countries was honourable to both. The eloquent and sparkling language, in which his ideas were conveyed, raised the author into the first rank of English writers. And, on account of his loyal sentiments, with their anti-revolutionary bias, Mr. Cobbett was declared, by people at home, to have rendered inestimable services to his native land.

The British Treaty was, however, in far greater peril than could be averted by the soundest arguments or the warmest loyalty. Whilst the treaty was being discussed throughout the States, an incident occurred which eventually laid bare the real source of the danger which threatened the amicable negotiations; that danger proved to be French intrigue.

The incident alluded to was one of that class which furnish the sensational parts of a melodrama, where a fortunate chance renders nugatory the craftiest of plans, and buries your villain beneath the ruin of his own devices. One Captain Goddard (the hero of the piece, and, of course, a British Tar) has the ill-luck to fall into the hands of a French privateer. The latter, proceeding homeward from the American shores, and in charge of despatches from Fauchet, the French envoy at Philadelphia, is herself obliged, in turn, to strike her colours to a British frigate, almost within sight of home. Her captain, pursuant to instructions, goes below to secure Fauchet’s despatches; and, as the frigate’s boat approaches, commits the precious documents to the waves. But there’s a British Tar aboard, who, with instinctive readiness understanding the situation, plunges into the sea, and secures the packet, is picked up by the boat, and checkmates “Mossoo.” And Captain Goddard, as he stands dripping on the deck, little knows what a prize has fallen to his turn!

For, these intercepted despatches contained highly-compromising matter. A certain member of Washington’s administration, Edmund Randolph,[14] Secretary of State, was a thorough-paced Radical, and an opponent of the President’s policy. Up to the end of July, or the beginning of August, 1795, he had led the opposition to the treaty; and, although the Senate and the people had become not only reconciled to its provisions, but desirous that the affair should be settled, Washington still felt unable to conclude it, on account of the dissensions in his Cabinet. But, on the 14th of August, Randolph being absent from the council, the treaty was ratified. The surprise of the latter was great, when he heard of this sudden deliberation; and, on learning the cause, his only resource was to resign his appointment, and to go home and consider his future. For it actually appeared, that one of the French Minister’s letters thus intercepted described an interview with Randolph, in which the latter, and two or three other persons, expected pecuniary assistance in return for their support of French ascendancy. So, when the English Embassy produced these precious documents, just received from London, and urged the immediate ratification of the treaty, there was only one course for Washington to pursue, viz. to accede to the request. Mr. Randolph was in sufficient disgrace; but he was foolish enough to make it widely known, by devoting more than a hundred pages of octavo to full details of the circumstances which led to his abrupt departure from office.[15] These pages were given to the public about the middle of December; and among that eager public was Mr. William Cobbett—who saw his opportunity.

So, on the 1st of January, 1796, is announced “A New Year’s Gift to the Democrats; or, Observations on a Pamphlet, entitled, ‘A Vindication of Mr. Randolph’s Resignation,’ by Peter Porcupine;” which turns out to be a very smart piece of writing, calculated to disturb the equanimity of every French sympathizer in the States.

The preface to “A New Year’s Gift,” &c. is worth giving in full:—

“The Democrats and I have long been in the friendly habit of making presents to each other; and, this being a season of the year when an interchange of civilities of this kind is more particularly looked for, I was just turning about me for a subject that might serve as some little mark of my attention, when the vindication of Mr. Randolph’s resignation made its long-looked-for appearance.

“If the reader knows anything of the Democrats, he will allow that this vindication is most eminently calculated to furnish me with the means of making them a grateful offering: and I was the more anxious to be prompt in the performance of this duty of etiquette, as, from their present formidable situation, it was to be feared, that they might have the will as well as the power to turn their vengeance against me, in case of the slightest neglect.

“When we take a view of their affairs for a year past, it is impossible not to perceive that they are wonderfully improved. They have had address sufficient to stir up the mob to burn the greatest part of the Federal senators in effigy; they have dared publickly and vilely to traduce the President of the United States; their own President has been elected a member of the legislature of Pennsylvania; the legislature of Virginia has declared in their favour; and a fresh importation of thieves and traitors from Ireland is daily expected to arrive. These are great and solid advantages, and when we add to them the ‘precious confessions,’ which they may, by the help of ‘some thousands of dollars,’ be able to draw from their new and communicative brother, we cannot help regarding their club as the rising sun of this country.

“To this great luminary, then, I kneel; not to ask a boon, but to offer one; and such a one as I hope will be acceptable, as its great object is to commemorate actions flowing from the purest principles of democracy.”

As for the pamphlet itself, it was in Porcupine’s best style; running through the items, seriatim, to which Randolph had inconsiderately given needless publicity. Mr. Bradford himself admired it, and showed it gleefully to his leading customers; several of whom stated that it had been intended to answer Randolph’s “Vindication,” but that it was now unnecessary, seeing that Peter Porcupine was in the field; also that the officers of government were exceedingly delighted with his publications.