FOOTNOTES
[1] Matthew Carey, an Irishman, born in Dublin, 1760. At a very early age he was prosecuted for a “libel” on the Government, and retired to Paris for a time, where he made the acquaintance of Franklin and Lafayette. He emigrated to Philadelphia in 1784, and in the following year started the Pennsylvania Herald. In 1793 he commenced the bookselling and printing business, which he continued prosperously for thirty years. Carey was a public-spirited citizen of Philadelphia for more than half a century. At his death, in his eightieth year, his remains were followed to the grave by thousands who recollected with gratitude his philanthropic labours. Carey’s family is still represented among the leading Philadelphians.
[2] As Cobbett himself very correctly says, “The war once ended, and the object of that war obtained, … the Congress became an inefficient body, and each State, having carefully retained its independent sovereignty, looked to its particular regulations, and its separate interests, which were often (not to say always) opposed to the regulations and the interests of all the other States.—“P. P. Works,” i. 38.
[3] “Being fresh from the French Revolution, while in its first and pure stage, and consequently whetted up in my own republican principles, I found a state of things, in the general society of the place (New York), which I could not have supposed possible. Being a stranger there, I was feasted from table to table, at large set dinners, the parties generally from twenty to thirty. The Revolution I had left, and that we had just gone through in the recent change of our own Government, being the common topics of conversation, I was astonished to find the general prevalence of monarchical sentiments, insomuch that in maintaining those of republicanism, I had always the whole company on my hands, never scarcely finding among them a single co-advocate in that argument, unless some old member of Congress happened to be present. The furthest that any one would go, in support of the Republican features of our new Government, would be to say, ‘The present Constitution is well as a beginning, and may be allowed a fair trial; but it is, in fact, only a stepping-stone to something better.’ Among their writers, Denny, the Editor of the Portfolio, who was a kind of oracle with them, and styled the Addison of America, openly avowed his preference of monarchy over all other forms of government, prided himself on the avowal, and maintained it by argument freely and without reserve, in his publications.”—T. J. to Wm. Short, Jan. 8, 1825: Jefferson’s “Writings,” vii. 390.
[4] “In the year 1794, or 5, a Mr. Rutledge, who was a judge in South Carolina, made a speech, in which he besought his country to join itself with the Republic of France in a mortal war against England. ‘She will,’ said he, ‘never forgive us for our success against her, and for our having established a free constitution. Let us, therefore, while she is down, seize her by the throat, strangle her, deliver the world of her tyranny, and thus confer on mankind the greatest of blessings.’ As nearly as I can recollect them, these were his very words. I am sure that I have the ideas correct. I and many more cried aloud against the barbarity of such sentiments. They were condemned in speeches and pamphlets innumerable.”—“Political Register,” xxvi. 422.
[5] Edmond Charles Genest, born 1765, died 1834. He possessed remarkable abilities from his youth, and early entered the diplomatic service. After four years in Russia as Chargé d’Affaires, he was sent to America, as related in the text; and, having been eventually superseded, he elected to remain and become naturalized. His life was thenceforth occupied in promoting improvements in agriculture and in the arts and sciences. (Vide “Biog. Universelle,” also Drake’s “American Biography.”)
[6] For full details of this curious episode, see Jefferson, “Writings,” iv., pp. 32-46; Cobbett, “P. P. Works,” x. 101, et seq.; also the “Annual Register,” for 1793-94.
[7] Vide “Annual Register,” 1794, for the interesting state papers on these topics.
[8] Mr. Jay was a genuine patriot. He was moderate in politics, but no trimmer. After his retirement he devoted himself to questions of social improvement, especially the abolition of slavery.
[9] For a complete analysis of the opposition views on the British Treaty, vide “Life of A. J. Dallas,” pp. 160 et seq. As a specimen of the mad and vindictive feelings then current, see a letter to the editor of the New York Argus, signed “An Individual,” and dated Jan. 17, 1796, in which he informs the editor that the Treaty meets with his entire disapprobation; and continues, “I have come to a solemn resolution, that I will not hereafter import, sell, or consume any goods, wares, or merchandise, the produce or manufacture of Great Britain and her dependencies. I leave others to act as they please, but this is my firm determination with respect to myself whilst the said Treaty continues in force.”
[10] “The Political Progress of Britain; or, An Impartial History of Abuses in the Government of the British Empire, in Europe, Asia, and America. From the Revolution in 1688 to the present time: the whole tending to prove the ruinous Consequences of the popular System of Taxation, War, and Conquest.” It was a little too violent for its purpose; and, although it contained a good deal of truth, the tract was malevolent and unpatriotic, and the author deserved to be prosecuted (from a ministerial point of view).
The preface to the American edition is worth reading, as telling some of the story of the times:—“Advertisement.—The first edition of ‘The Political Progress of Britain’ was published at Edinburgh and London, in autumn, 1792. The sale was lively, and the prospect of future success flattering. The plan was, to give an impartial history of the abuses in government, in a series of pamphlets. But, while the author was preparing for the press a second number, along with a new edition of the first, he was, on the 2nd of January, 1793, apprehended, and with some difficulty made his escape. Two booksellers, who acted as his editors, were prosecuted, and, after a very arbitrary trial, they were condemned, the one to three months, and the other to six months of imprisonment. A revolution will take place in Scotland before the lapse of ten years at farthest, and most likely much sooner. The Scots nation will then certainly think itself bound, by every tie of wisdom, of gratitude, and of justice, to make reparation to these two honest men for the tyranny which they have encountered in the cause of truth. In Britain, authors and editors of pamphlets have long conducted the van of every revolution. They compose a kind of forlorn hope on the skirts of battle; and though they may often want experience, or influence, to marshal the main body, they yet enjoy the honour and the danger of the first rank, in storming the ramparts of oppression.
“The verdict of a packed jury did not alter the opinions of those who had approved of the publications. Five times its original price hath, since its suppression, been offered in Edinburgh for a copy. At London, a new edition was printed by Ridgway and Symonds, two booksellers, confined in Newgate for publishing political writings. They sell the pamphlet, and others of the same tendency, openly in prison. It is next to impossible for despotism to overwhelm the divine art of printing,” &c., &c.
Mr. Callender eventually became a newspaper editor at Richmond, Va., and distinguished himself as an uncompromising opponent of the Federalist administrations.
[11] It cannot be said that the title of “Porcupine” was altogether appropriate. The vulgar notion (derived from Pliny) that this harmless animal had the power of shooting its quills at an adversary was probably the origin of the appellation.
[12] “A Rub from Snub; or, a Cursory Analytical Epistle; addressed to Peter Porcupine, author of the Bone to Gnaw, Kick for a Bite, &c., &c. Containing Glad Tidings for the Democrats, and a word of comfort to Mrs. S. Rowson, wherein the said Porcupine’s moral, political, critical, and literary character is fully illustrated.” (Philadelphia, 1795.) Here is a little specimen of the style:—“Nature must have had the hysterics when you were born; mastiffs howled, and owls sang anthems to congratulate you into existence, and your jaws must have been furnished with indissoluble tusks expressive of the disposition that was inspired within you.”
Mrs. Rowson was an English emigrant, who had arrived in Philadelphia in 1793, and soon blazed forth as an actress and novelist, and enjoyed great popularity. One of her novels is still reprinted. Cobbett had made a review of the “roma-drama-poetic works of Mrs. S. Rowson” the object of some humour in “A Kick for a Bite.”
[13] It does not appear to be known who was the author of these anonymous “letters.” Cobbett charged A. J. Dallas with the authorship; and they certainly have the same stamp as Dallas’s “Features of the English Treaty.” But it must be left to conjecture. Cobbett gives his reason for selecting the “Letters” to write down, out of all “the volumes, or rather bales,” that had already appeared, because these seemed to him the fairest sample of the opinions and language of the opposers of the treaty. They had originally appeared in the Aurora newspaper.
[14] Edmund Randolph, sometime governor of Virginia, and a very eminent lawyer of his day. He supported the Revolution, and was disinherited by his father for deserting the royal cause. He was Secretary of State 1794-5. Born 1753, died 1813.
[15] “A Vindication of Mr. Randolph’s Resignation.” (Philadelphia, S. H. Smith, 1795.) Mr. Smith advertises afterwards (Aurora of Feb. 17, 1796) that a copyright had been taken out for the “Vindication,” so that as many entire copies might be diffused as possible; also to cover the cost of printing. Also, he now gives permission to all the printers in the United States to republish it if they like.
CHAPTER VI.
“PETER PORCUPINE, AT YOUR SERVICE!”
Mr. Thomas Bradford’s Political Book Store, No. 8, South Front Street, is furnished with all the latest publications. The works of Paine, Volney, Godwin and others, fill his shelves, and those of the new Federal light enliven his counter. He is doing a roaring trade; senators look in and gossip, and laugh over Porcupine; members from the House of Representatives come in and flatter the writer, and want to be blessed with a sight of him—“one wanted to treat me to a supper, another wanted to shake hands with me, and a third wanted to embrace me.”
But Mr. Cobbett is getting too independent. On the next proposal to publish, he actually wants to have a voice in the matter, over some detail; and, early in 1796, their engagements are sundered.
The plan for opening the new year was a commentary on the debates in Congress, under the title of “The Prospect from the Congress Gallery.” The first number appeared at the end of January. The circumstances under which Cobbett broke off with his publisher are thus given in the American autobiography (published in the ensuing August):
“My concerns with Mr. Bradford closed with “The Prospect from the Congress Gallery;” and, as our separation has given rise to conjectures and reports, I shall trouble the reader with an explanation of the matter. I proposed making a mere collection of the debates, with here and there a note by way of remarks. It was not my intention to publish it in numbers, but at the end of the session, in one volume; but Mr. Bradford, fearing a want of success in this form, determined on publishing in numbers. This was without my approbation, as was also a subscription that was opened for the support of the work. When about half a Number was finished, I was informed that many gentlemen had expressed their desire, that the work might contain a good deal of original matter, and few debates. In consequence of this, I was requested to alter my plan; I said I would, but that I would by no means undertake to continue the work.
“The first Number, as it was called (but not by me) was published, and its success led Mr. Bradford to press for a continuation. His son offered me, I believe, a hundred dollars a Number, in place of eighteen; and, I should have accepted his offer, had it not been for a word that escaped him during the conversation. He observed, that their customers would be much disappointed, for that, his father had promised a continuation, and that it should be made very interesting. This slip of the tongue opened my eyes at once. What! a bookseller undertake to promise that I should write, and that I should write to please his customers too! No; if all his customers, if all the Congress with the President at their head, had come and solicited me; nay, had my salvation depended on a compliance, I would not have written another line.
“I was fully employed at this time, having a translation on my hands for Mr. Moreau de St. Méry, as well as another work which took up a great deal of my time; so that, I believe, I should not have published the Censor had it not been to convince the customers of Mr. Bradford, that I was not in his pay; that I was not the puppet and he the showman. That, whatever merits or demerits my writings might have, no part of them fell to his share.”
The “Prospect” was pretty successful; and it was resolved to continue it occasionally. The next number was not published, however, till the end of March; and the title was changed to “The Political Censor.” But we now find on the title-page the name of Benjamin Davies, at No. 68, High Street—so it appears that the dissatisfaction with Mr. Bradford had some meaning in it. Between the first and second numbers of the “Censor,” Peter Porcupine produced a little book on French “horrors,” which had a great sale both in America and England, under the name of “The Bloody Buoy, thrown out as a Warning to the Political Pilots of all Nations: or, a faithful Relation of a Multitude of Acts of Horrid Barbarity, such as the Eye never witnessed, the Tongue expressed, or the Imagination conceived, until the Commencement of the French Revolution,” &c. This was published at Davies’ Book-store, and its announcement in the papers was probably the first intimation that Mr. Bradford had of the impending loss of Porcupine’s custom.
The later transactions between Cobbett and Bradford are thus disposed of in the autobiography:—
“After the ‘Observations,’ Mr. Bradford and I published together no longer. When a pamphlet was ready for the press, we made a bargain for it, and I took his note of hand, payable in one, two, or three months. That the public may know exactly what gains I have derived from the publications that issued from Mr. Bradford’s, I here subjoin a list of them, and the sums received in payment.
| Dollars. | Cents. | |
| Observations | 0 | 21 |
| Bone to Gnaw, 1st part | 125 | 0 |
| Kick for a Bite | 20 | 0 |
| Bone to Gnaw, 2nd part | 40 | 0 |
| Plain English | 100 | 0 |
| New Year’s Gift | 100 | 0 |
| Prospect | 18 | 0 |
| Total | 403 | 21 |
“The best way of giving the reader an idea of the generosity of my bookseller is, to tell him, that upon my going into business for myself, I offered to purchase the copyrights of these pamphlets at the same price that I had sold them at. Mr. Bradford refusing to sell, is a clear proof that they were worth more than he gave me, even after they had passed through several editions. Let it not be said, then, that he put a coat upon my back.”
Upon Mr. Bradford finding that “The Political Censor” was to be carried on without his assistance and patronage, he wrote to Cobbett requesting him to fulfil the contract, which, he alleged, existed between them by the sale of the first “Prospect,” and threatened an “applycation” to the laws of his country, &c. Mr. Cobbett, remarking on this, says,—
“It is something truly singular, that Mr. Bradford should threaten me with a prosecution for not writing, just at the moment that others threatened me with a prosecution for writing. It seemed a little difficult to set both at open defiance, yet this was done, by continuing to write, and by employing another bookseller. Indeed, these booksellers in general are a cruel race. They imagine that the soul and body of every author that falls into their hands is their exclusive property. They have adopted the birdcatcher’s maxim: ‘A bird that can sing, and won’t sing, ought to be made sing.’ Whenever their devils are out of employment the drudging goblin of an author must sharpen up his pen, and never think of repose till he is relieved by the arrival of a more profitable job. Then the wretch may remain as undisturbed as a sleep-mouse in winter, while the stupid dolt, whom he has clad and fattened, receives the applause.”
An influential and respectable citizen of Philadelphia, at this period, was Benjamin Franklin Bache;[1] a strong Democrat, and particularly zealous on behalf of French opinions. He conducted a daily newspaper, the Aurora, and kept a political book-store. The Aurora was one of the ablest and most influential journals on the American Continent; besides being, in its general appearance, a newspaper which put to shame even the London ones of that day. And the Editor and publisher of the Aurora, in his capacity of chief-whipper-in to the Democrats of Pennsylvania, among other matters, thought proper to allow his paper to become the vehicle for abusing Peter Porcupine. This newspaper, having escaped the usual fate of ephemeral publications, will furnish us with the means of judging exactly what Peter’s opponents thought of him.
As a specimen of the opposing factions, however, we will, at present, only refer to two New York papers.
Minerva, Jan. 15, 1796.
“Peter Porcupine has given an excellent key to Mr. Randolph’s Vindication. Never was a present better timed, than his New Year’s Gift to the Democrats. Every man who has read the Vindication, should read Peter’s explanations and comments upon it, especially all Whigs, to whom the Argus recommends the perusal of the Vindication. We recommend Peter’s gift to the Democratic Society, and trust that, at their next meeting, they will publish resolutions expressing their approbation of the work, as they have lately done with respect to the president’s answer to the French minister.”
Argus, Jan. 18, 1796.
“An impartial correspondent desires us to say, that of all the vulgar catchpennies that ever he saw in print, the late one of Phineas Porcupine bears off the bell! This Porcupine or Hedgehog, after having fled (on account of his vile treachery to this his native country) for mere bread, became a garreteer writer for the refugees in London, and a clerk to an Old Bailey solicitor there; and it was through the interest of those refugees that this Hedgehog was returned upon us, in the character he now sustains! His views manifestly are to get himself tarred and feathered, that he may go back howling to England, for further promotion; but, from this hint, it is hoped that he will be disappointed by the democratic Philadelphians.”
Mr. Cobbett’s design of opening a shop of his own was, probably, formed very early in this year, 1796, and it may be set down as one result of the discovery that Bradford was making capital out of him. The plan appears to have been delayed for some months, and it was not until July that it was carried out. Meanwhile, several numbers of the “Censor” appeared, at the shop of Mr. Davies, and obtained considerable popularity. The original idea was a review of the political transactions of the past month; with an “account of every democratic trick, whether of native growth, or imported from abroad.” All of which meant, a defence of Great Britain with vigorous Federal partisanship.[2] Here is one extract from the first number, which will illustrate one of the leading topics that occupied the public mind. It must be recollected that the French Government were now more anxious than ever to court American alliance, they having been specially exasperated at the happy result of the treaty negotiations with England. They accordingly instructed Adet, their envoy, to begin the new year by presenting the national colours to the United States. Washington received the attention very graciously, and informed the minister that the colours would be deposited with the archives of the States. But he also considered it right “to exhibit to the two houses of Congress, these evidences of the continued friendship of the French republic.” This was accordingly done, on the 5th of January; and here is Porcupine’s account of the proceedings:—
“I was rather late in my attendance in Congress this day; a circumstance the more distressing, as I found not only the gallery, but even the passage also, full of spectators.… Every person within the walls of this House seemed to be waiting for the development of some great and important mystery. The members were paired off, laying their heads together, whispering and listening with great eagerness; while the Speaker, seated with his chin supported between his right finger and thumb, and his eyes rivetted to the floor, appeared lost, buried alive, as it were, in profundity of thought. Never did wisdom appear more lovely in my eyes.… The seriousness of the members of the House naturally produced the most anxious expectation in the minds of the good citizens in my quarter. A thousand ridiculous inquiries were made, in the twinkling of an eye, which were answered by a thousand still more ridiculous conjectures. One said that a law was going to be read to oblige the Virginians to free their slaves and pay their just debts; but another swore that was impossible. A third declared a second embargo was to be laid; and a fourth observed that it was to hinder the cruel English from carrying off our poor horses, to eat them in the West Indies.… To tell the reader the truth of my opinion, I was afraid that some new confiscating or sequestrating project was on foot; and when Mr. Dayton, the Speaker, awoke from his reverie, and began to speak,—‘Lord have mercy,’ said I, ‘upon the poor British creditors.’ My fears on this account were soon dissipated. The Speaker told us that this message was of the most solemn and serious nature, and he therefore requested both the members of the House and the strangers in the gallery to observe the profoundest silence.
“The reader will easily imagine that a warning like this increased the torture of suspense. It was now that we felt the value of the hearing faculty. I observed my neighbours brushing aside their matted and untutored locks, that nothing might impede the entrance of the glad tidings. We were, as the poet says, ‘all eye, all ear.’ But there was a little man down below, whose anxiety seemed to surpass that of all the rest. He crept to within a very few paces of the leeward side of the chair, and, turning himself sideways, lifted up the left corner of his wig, placing the auricular orifice open and extended, in a direct line with the Speaker’s mouth, so that not a single breath of the precious sounds could possibly escape him. His longing countenance seemed to say, in the language of his countryman, Macbeth:—‘Speak! Speak! had I three ears, by heaven I’d hear thee.’ …
“All at once, as if by the power of magic, the doors flew open, ‘grating on their hinges harsh thunder,’ and the President’s secretary was introduced with an American officer bearing a flag, which I took to be a representation of the day of judgment. It had a thunderbolt in the centre, with a cock perched upon it! the emblems of Almighty vengeance and of watchfulness. At two of the corners the globe was represented in a flame. The staff was covered with black velvet, sad colour of death, and crowned with a Parisian pike,—fatal instrument, on which the bleeding and ghastly heads, nay, even the palpitating hearts of men, women, and children, have so often been presented to the view of the polite and humane inhabitants of that capital.
“Curiosity now gave way to another passion, that of fear. For my part, I am not ashamed to confess, that I never was in such trepidation since I first saw the light of day. Nor were my companions in a more enviable state. I looked round, and beheld the affrighted group huddled up together, like a brood of chickens waiting the mortal grip of the voracious kite. In this general picture of consternation one object attracted particular notice. It was a democrat, who was so fully persuaded that the flag was the harbinger of fate, that he began to anticipate the torments of the world to come. Never did I before behold such dreadful symptoms of a guilty conscience. He was as white as paper, his knees knocked together, his teeth chattered, he wrung his hands, and rolled his eyes, but durst not lift them towards heaven. His voice was like the yell of the inhabitants of the infernal regions. ‘Oh, Franklin Bache! Franklin Bache! Oh! that infernal atheistical calendar!’ This was all we could get from him; but this was enough to assure me that he was one of those unhappy wretches, who had been led astray by the profligate correspondents of Mr. Bache, and by the atheistical decadery calendar; which that gentleman has, with so much unholy zeal, endeavoured to introduce amongst us, in place of the Christian one we, as yet, make use of.
“My attention was called off from this terrific picture of despair by a voice from beneath. A tall spare man, dressed all in black from head to foot … was beginning, in a hollow voice, to read (as I expected) the decrees of fate, but to my agreeable surprise I found it was a decree of the National Convention: it was in the following words, &c.”
It was soon after this date that Cobbett made the acquaintance of Monsieur Talleyrand. The notion that the latter was a spy, was at once formed in Cobbett’s mind; and he long continued to have that idea, on the ground that Talleyrand was received with open arms, very soon after his return to France, by the very men who had proscribed him. There is no real basis for the suspicion (which, indeed, has been entertained in other quarters), but Mr. Cobbett gives very colourable reasons for his belief:—
“First he set up as a merchant and dealer at New York, till he had acquired what knowledge he thought was to be come at among persons engaged in mercantile affairs; then he assumed the character of a gentleman, at the same time removing to Philadelphia, where he got access to persons of the first rank,—all those who were connected with, or in the confidence of, the Government. Some months after his arrival in this city, he left a message with a friend of his, requesting me to meet him at that friend’s house. Several days passed away before the meeting took place. I had no business to call me that way, and therefore I did not go. At last this modern Judas and I got seated by the same fireside. I expected that he wanted to expostulate with me on the severe treatment he had met with at my hands. I had called him an apostate, a hypocrite, and every other name of which he was deserving; I therefore leave the reader to imagine my astonishment, when I heard him begin with complimenting me on my wit and learning. He praised several of my pamphlets, the ‘New Year’s Gift’ in particular, and still spoke of them as mine. I did not acknowledge myself the author, of course; but yet he would insist that I was; or, at any rate, they reflected, he said, infinite honour on the author, let him be who he might. Having carried this species of flattery as far as he judged it safe, he asked me, with a vast deal of apparent seriousness, whether I had received my education at Oxford or at Cambridge! Hitherto I had kept my countenance pretty well; but this abominable stretch of hypocrisy, and the placid mien and silver accent with which it was pronounced, would have forced a laugh from a quaker in the midst of meeting. I don’t recollect what reply I made him, but this I recollect well, I gave him to understand that I was no trout, and consequently was not to be caught by tickling.
“This information led him to something more solid. He began to talk about business. I was no flour merchant,[3] but I taught English; and, as luck would have it, this was the very commodity that Bishop Perigord wanted. If I had taught Thornton’s or Webster’s language,[4] or sold sand or ashes, or pepper-pot, it would have been just the same to him. He knew the English language as well as I did; but he wanted to have dealings with me in some way or other.
“I knew that, notwithstanding his being proscribed at Paris, he was extremely intimate with Adet; and this circumstance led me to suspect his real business in the United States. I therefore did not care to take him as a scholar. I told him that being engaged in a translation for the press, I could not possibly quit home. This difficulty the lame fiend hopped over in a moment. He would very gladly come to my house. I cannot say but it would have been a great satisfaction to me to have seen the ci-devant Bishop of Autun, the guardian of the holy oil that anointed the heads of the descendants of St. Louis, come trudging through the dirt to receive a lesson from me; but, on the other hand, I did not want a French spy to take a survey either of my desk or my house. My price for teaching was six dollars a month; he offered me twenty, but I refused; and before I left him, I gave him clearly to understand that I was not to be purchased.”
Preparations were now being made for opening the bookselling business; and after midsummer the house was ready. The shop was opened on the 11th of July, and Mr. Cobbett took advantage of the opportunity thus furnished to make a grand demonstration. The account of this new start in life is better told in his own words:—
“Till I took this house I had remained almost entirely unknown as a writer. A few persons did indeed know that I was the person who had assumed the name of Peter Porcupine; but the fact was by no means a matter of notoriety. The moment, however, that I had taken the lease of a large house, the transaction became a topic of public conversation, and the eyes of the Democrats and the French, who still lorded it over the city, and who owed me a mutual grudge, were fixed upon me.
“I thought my situation somewhat perilous. Such truths as I had published, no man had dared to utter in the United States since the rebellion. I knew that these truths had mortally offended the leading men amongst the Democrats, who could, at any time, muster a mob quite sufficient to destroy my house, and to murder me. I had not a friend to whom I could look with any reasonable hope of receiving efficient support; and as to the law, I had seen too much of republican justice to expect anything but persecution from that quarter. In short, there were in Philadelphia about ten thousand persons, all of whom would have rejoiced to see me murdered; and there might probably be two thousand who would have been very sorry for it; but not above fifty of whom would have stirred an inch to save me.
“I saw the danger, but also saw that I must at once set all danger at defiance, or live in everlasting subjection to the prejudices and caprice of the democratical mob. I resolved on the former, and as my shop was to open on a Monday morning, I employed myself all day on Sunday in preparing an exhibition that I thought would put the courage and the power of my enemies to the test. I put up in my windows, which were very large, all the portraits that I had in my possession of kings, queens, princes, and nobles. I had all the English ministry, several of the bishops and judges, the most famous admirals, and, in short, every picture that I thought likely to excite rage in the enemies of Great Britain.
“Early on the Monday morning I took down my shutters. Such a sight had not been seen in Philadelphia for twenty years. Never since the beginning of the rebellion had any one dared to hoist at his window the portrait of George the Third.…
“I had put up a representation of Lord Howe’s victory in a leaf of the ‘European Magazine;’ but a bookseller with whom I was acquainted, and who came to see how I stood it, whispered me, while the rabble were gazing and growling at my door, that he had two large representations of the same action. They were about four feet long and two wide: the things which are hawked about and sold at the farm-houses in England.… The letters were large; the mob, ten or twenty deep, could read, and they did read aloud too, ‘Lord Howe’s Decisive Victory over the French Fleet;’ and, therefore, though the price was augmented from sixpence to two dollars each, I purchased them, and put one up at the window.… The other I sold to two Englishmen, who were amongst the numbers that went to America about the years 1794 and 1795, misled by the representations of Paine and others, and being, as they frankly acknowledged to me, enemies of their country when they left it. They had mixed amongst the crowd, had taken the part of their country, and had proposed to maintain their words with their fists. After the quarrel had in some degree subsided, they, partly, perhaps, by way of defiance, came into the shop to purchase each of them a picture of Lord Howe and his victory. Finding that I had but one for sale, they would have purchased that; but as it amounted to more money than both of them were possessed of, they went and, in their phrase, which I shall never forget, kicked their master,—that is to say, got money in advance upon their labour.… Having thus obtained the two dollars, each of them took an end of the print in his hand, displayed it, and thus carried it away through the mob, who, though they still cursed, could not help giving signs of admiration.”
The result of all this was just what was to be expected. Threats of personal violence, with plenty of abuse in the newspapers, at once ensued. On the 16th of July, Cobbett’s landlord, John Oldden, received a threatening letter, to the effect that that “daring scoundrell,” his tenant, was about to be punished; and with a view of preventing Mr. Oldden’s feeling the blow designed for Porcupine, his correspondent addresses him; as, when the time of retribution arrives, “it may not be convenient to discriminate between the innocent and the guilty,” and his property may suffer. As a friend, therefore, he advises him to save his property by either compelling Mr. Porcupine to leave his house, or at all events oblige him “to cease exposing his abominable productions or any of his courtly prints at his window for sale.” On the same day, a correspondent of the Aurora informs the readers of that paper that the “hireling writer of the British Government” has just refused to pay his taxes, and was behaving very saucily; until the tax-collector began to bully him, and call him a d——d rascal, and threaten to break every bone in his skin. At which display of spirit, Peter was cooled, &c.
In vain all this. Before the week is out, all this is brought before the Philadelphia public. A pamphlet appears on the 22nd, entitled “The Scare-Crow; being an infamous letter, &c., with remarks on the same,” in which Mr. Cobbett makes fun of the affair, has another fling at the French and the Democrats, and announces that his taxes are paid up to January, 1797.
The charge of being in British pay had now been cropping up for some time, and it was necessary to take some notice of it, if only for the sake of British credit. At length, a very abusive paragraph having appeared in the Aurora about this time, presuming to identify the agent who was supplying Peter with the gold of Pitt, the matter became imperative. Accordingly, Cobbett took the opportunity of publishing the history of his life;[5]—a thing which he says he had determined to do, whenever a fair occasion offered.
The communication to the Aurora newspaper stated, among other things, that Porcupine had been “obliged to abscond from his darling old England to avoid being turned off into the other world before his time;” that his usual occupation at home was that of a “garret-scribbler” (excepting a little “night-business” occasionally, to supply unavoidable contingencies); and that he had to take French leave for France; that he was obliged as suddenly to leave that Republic, and figured some time in America as a pedagogue; “but as this employment scarcely furnished him salt to his porridge, he having been literally without hardly bread to eat, and not a second shirt to his back, he resumed his old occupation of scribbling, having little chance of success in the other employments which drove him to this country.” He is a fugitive felon; but his sudden change of condition shows that secret-service money has been liberally employed; “for his zeal to make atonement to his mother country seems proportioned to the magnitude of his offence, and the guineas advanced.” And so on.
The first announcement of “The Life and Adventures of Peter Porcupine” appears in the Gazette of the United States[6] of the 9th August; and its publication was the signal for a fresh outburst of spleen on the part of Peter’s opponents. And no wonder; for, as a mixture of artlessness and cool impudence, the “Life and Adventures” has seldom been equalled. Gaily daring, he begs his opponents to come on, and fire away at his reputation “till their old pens are worn to the stump,” and expresses his extreme sorrow that lies and threats will be all in vain, for he is “one of those whose obstinacy increases with opposition.” In point of fact, Peter was just now somewhat intoxicated with success. The applause of friends, and of that large class in every community that is ready to worship successful impudence—along with the virulence of his opponents, and the consciousness of honourable and patriotic motives—had their natural results in the mind of an ardent and earnest man who has recently emerged from obscurity, and who has suddenly learnt how easy it is to become famous—in a country, too, where a spade might be called a spade without fear of an Attorney-General—in a land where existed (at that period) the only semblance of liberty in the whole world.
And, as it turned out, years after, this daring “scoundrell” was the only man found worthy—because the only one with pluck enough—to do good work when he got face to face with his country’s enemies at home.
Mr. Cobbett’s reply to the charge of being in the pay of the British Government was easy enough:—
“It is hard to prove a negative; it is what no man is expected to do; yet I think I can prove that the accusation of my being in British pay is not supported by one single fact, or the least shadow of probability.
“When a foreign Government hires a writer, it takes care that his labours shall be distributed, whether the readers are all willing to pay for them or not. This we daily see verified in the distribution of certain blasphemous gazettes, which, though kicked from the door with disdain, fly in at the window. Now, has this ever been the case with the works of Peter Porcupine? Were they ever thrusted upon people in spite of their remonstrances? Can Mr. Bradford say that thousands of these pamphlets have ever been paid for by any agent of Great Britain? Can he say that I have ever distributed any of them? No; he can say no such thing. They had, at first, to encounter every difficulty, and they have made their way supported by public approbation, and by that alone. Mr. Bradford, if he is candid enough to repeat what he told me, will say that the British Consul, when he purchased half a dozen of them, insisted upon having them at the wholesale price! Did this look like a desire to encourage them? Besides, those who know anything of Mr. Bradford will never believe that he would have lent his aid to a British agent’s publications; for, of all the Americans I have yet conversed with, he seems to entertain the greatest degree of rancour against that nation.
“I have every reason to believe that the British Consul was far from approving of some at least of my publications. I happened to be in a bookseller’s shop, unseen by him, when he had the goodness to say that I was a ‘wild fellow.’ On which I shall only observe, that when the king bestows on me about five hundred pounds sterling a year, perhaps I may become a tame fellow, and hear my master, my countrymen, my friends, and my parents, belied and execrated, without saying one single word in their defence.
“Had the Minister of Great Britain employed me to write, can it be supposed that he would not furnish me with the means of living well, without becoming the retailer of my own works? Can it be supposed that he would have suffered me ever to have appeared on the scene? It must be a very poor king that he serves, if he could not afford me more than I can get by keeping a book-shop. An ambassador from a king of the gipsies could not have acted a meaner part. What! where was all the ‘gold of Pitt’? That gold which tempted, according to the Democrats, an American envoy to sell his country and two-thirds of the Senate to ratify the bargain—that gold which, according to the Convention of France, has made one half of that nation cut the throats of the other half—that potent gold could not keep Peter Porcupine from standing behind a counter to sell a pen-knife or a quire of paper.
“Must it not be evident, too, that the keeping of a shop would take up a great part of my time—time that was hardly worth paying for at all, if it was not of higher value than the profits on a few pamphlets? Every one knows that the ‘Censor’ has been delayed on account of my entering into business; would the Minister of Great Britain have suffered this, had I been in his pay? No; I repeat that it is downright stupidity to suppose that he would ever have suffered me to appear at all, had he even felt in the least interested in the fate of my works, or the effect they might produce. He must be sensible that, seeing the unconquerable prejudices existing in this country, my being known to be an Englishman would operate weightily against whatever I might advance. I saw this very plainly myself; but, as I had a living to get, and as I had determined on this line of business, such a consideration was not to awe me into idleness, or make me forego any other advantages that I had reason to hope I should enjoy.
“The notion of my being in British pay arose from my having now and then taken upon me to attempt a defence of the character of that nation, and of the intentions of its Government towards the United States. But have I ever teazed my readers with this, except when the subject necessarily demanded it? And if I have given way to my indignation when a hypocritical political divine attempted to degrade my country, or when its vile calumniators called it ‘an insular Bastile,’ what have I done more than every good man in my place would have done? What have I done more than my duty—than obeyed the feelings of my heart? When a man hears his country reviled, does it require that he should be paid for speaking in its defence?
“Besides, had my works been intended to introduce British influence, they would have assumed a more conciliating tone. The author would have flattered the people of this country, even in their excesses; he would have endeavoured to gain over the enemies of Britain by smooth and soothing language; he would ‘have stooped to conquer;’ he would not, as I have done, have rendered them hatred for hatred, and scorn for scorn.
“My writings, the first pamphlet excepted, have had no other object than that of keeping alive an attachment to the Constitution of the United States and the inestimable man who is at the head of the Government, and to paint in their true colours those who are the enemies of both; to warn the people, of all ranks and descriptions, of the danger of admitting among them the anarchical and blasphemous principles of the French revolutionists—principles as opposite to those of liberty as hell is to heaven. If, therefore, I have written at the instance of a British agent, that agent must most certainly deserve the thanks of all the real friends of America. But, say some of the half Democrats, what right have you to meddle with the defence of our Government at all?—The same right that you have to exact my obedience to it, and my contributions towards its support.”
It does not appear that Porcupine had the battle entirely on his own hands. Mr. Fenno’s Gazette occasionally ventured into the arena; and the presidential following was still strong, even in democratic Philadelphia. Still, Peter seems to have borne the brunt of it for a few months, before others dared to follow. That others did, after a time, he expressly states. But the position he occupied, in the public mind, for a short period in 1796, is almost unexampled. Scarcely a week passed, in the months of August and September, without some new attack upon him, on the part of the Aurora newspaper;[7] and there is one day in September upon which that great “public instructor” had two anti-Porcupine paragraphs, and several advertisements of such productions as these:
“A Pill for Porcupine; being a specific for an obstinate itching, which that hireling has long contracted for lying and calumny, containing a vindication of the American, French, and Irish characters, against his scurrilities.”
“Porcupine, a print; to be had at Moreau de St. Méry’s book-store.”
“The Blue Shop, or Impartial and Humourous Observations on the Life and Adventures of Peter Porcupine; with the real motives which gave rise to his abuse of our distinguished patriotic characters; together with a full and fair view of his late Scare-Crow.
This is interesting to all parties.”
“The Impostor Detected, or a review of some of the writings of Peter Porcupine. By Timothy Tickletoby.
“‘He is a monster of such horrid mien,
As to be hated needs but to be seen.’—Pope.”
“This day is published, price one quarter of a dollar, embellished with a curious frontispiece,—
“The Adventures of Peter Porcupine, or the Villain Unmasked; being the Memoirs of a notorious Rogue lately in the British Army, and ci-devant member of an extensive light-fingered association in England. Containing a narrative of the most extraordinary and unexampled depravity of conduct perhaps ever exhibited to the world, in a letter to a young gentleman in New York.
“‘These things are strange, but not more strange than true.’
“To which is added a postscript to Peter Porcupine, being remarks on a pamphlet lately published by him, entitled his ‘Life and Adventures.’ By Daniel Detector.
“‘I’ll tell the bold-faced villain that he lies.’
“
As this pamphlet was hurried through the press, several mistakes were unavoidable: particularly, in the first three hundred which were sold, the word England instead of France appeared in the first line of the paragraph beginning in the forty-fifth page.”
Mr. Bradford was the publisher (if not the author) of one of these, viz., “The Impostor Detected;” and it seems that Cobbett had, when “The Bone to Gnaw, part ii.” appeared, written a letter to the editor of the Aurora (as an indirect puff), running down the pamphlet. But Mr. Bradford omitted to state that the bookseller had instigated the author. Cobbett, however, acknowledges the fact, in the “Political Censor” for September; and, after duly spitting Mr. Bradford for the breach of confidence, proceeds to justify the “puff indirect” by appealing to precedents, instancing Addison and Pope as persons who had done that sort of thing.
Here is a bit on the Porcupine side, from Mr. Fenno’s Gazette:—
“The enemies of the President of the United States, and of the Federal Government, pretend to be affronted that a man born in England should presume to say a civil thing of the character of George Washington. The consistency of this will appear when the public are assured that very few of the abusive scribblers who slander his reputation have one drop of American blood in their veins.”
Which of course brings up the Aurora, the editor of which is desirous of assuring the public that his contributors are all native Americans.
But this is, perhaps, enough for our purpose, in showing the acrimonious feelings which existed at the period. Suffice it to say that any person who defended George Washington was certain of getting the foulest abuse from his opponents; whilst the idea of a discharged British non-commissioned officer entering the lists was not to be borne. As one correspondent of the democratic newspaper said, “While I am a friend to the unlimited freedom of the press, when exercised by an American, I am an implacable foe to its prostitution to a foreigner, and would at any time assist in hunting out of society any meddling foreigner who should dare to interfere in our politics.” These writers, however, did not allow their principles to govern them so far, that they could deny themselves the duty of interfering in foreign politics, especially those of England. Rounds of abuse follow, from day to day, upon everything that is not revolutionary and anti-monarchical. As for Mr. Pitt’s new notion of uniting Ireland with Great Britain, a more “atrocious and diabolical project” never entered the mind of man.
Peter Porcupine, however, stands all this with calm audacity. The advertisements of his new business appear in the Gazette of the United States; and he announces,—among “New Drawing Books from the Best Masters,” Watson’s “Apology for the Bible,” &c.,—“The Blue Shop,” “The Impostor Detected;” besides a full supply of all “the Grub-street pamphlets vomited forth from the lungs of filth and falsehood against Peter Porcupine.” And this game was carried on, more or less, for a month or two longer; but its very violence was fatal to its continuance, and the combatants seemed to get weary of throwing so much dirt at each other. At the end of September, the “Political Censor,” No. 5, was devoted, partly, to a review of some of the anonymous pamphlets[8] against Porcupine, and to a brisk rejoinder to the misrepresentations of Bradford and his son, relative to his pecuniary transactions with Cobbett. The number concluded as follows:—
“I now take leave of the Bradfords, and of all those who have written against me. People’s opinions must now be made up concerning them and me. Those who still believe the lies that have been vomited forth against me are either too stupid or too perverse to merit further attention. I will, therefore, never write another word in reply to anything that is published about myself. Bark away, hell-hounds, till you are suffocated in your own foam! Your labours are preserved, bound up together in a piece of bear-skin with the hair on, and nailed up to a post in my shop, where whoever pleases may read them gratis.”
Besides, other matters wanted attention: the French Embassy was again becoming a disturbing factor, and Washington had announced that he should retire from public life at the approaching close of his second term of office.