The prospectus of the Porcupine was on the lines of anti-Republicanism. The editor confessed that it was with the utmost astonishment and indignation that he found a portion of the press endeavouring to bring down upon his native country the calamity and disgrace attendant on revolution; still preaching fanaticism and infidelity, and “still bawling for that change which they have the audacity to denominate Reform.” It was not for him to fold his hands and tamely listen to the insolent eulogists of republican governments, who had seen republican officers of state offering to sell their country for a few thousand dollars, who had seen republican judges become felons, and felons become judges, &c., &c. The paper should be distinctly anti-gallican:—
“The intrigues of the French, the servile, the insidious, the insinuating French, shall be an object of my constant attention. Whether at war or at peace with us, they still dread the power, envy the happiness, and thirst for the ruin of England.… Had they the means, they would exterminate us to the last man; they would snatch the crutch from our parents, the cradle from our children; and our happy country itself would they sink beneath those waves on which they now flee from the thunder of our cannon.… While we retain one drop of true British blood in our veins, we never shall shake hands with this perfidious and sanguinary race, much less shall we make a compromise with their monkey-like manners and tiger-like principles.”
The Porcupine would also resist the mischievous portion of the press, and pay much less regard to the feelings and interests of fanatical and factious booksellers than to the cause of religion and loyalty. The editor held it to be the duty of men in power to employ the pen, as well as the sword, in defence of Government, yet,—
“The peculiar circumstances, under which I now come forward, demand from me an explicit and solemn assertion of my INDEPENDENCE. My undertaking is my own; it was begun without the aid, without the advice, and even without the knowledge, of any person either directly or indirectly connected with the ministry; if, therefore, I hope to yield some trifling support to that ministry, it is not because I have received, or ever shall receive, any gratification at their hands; but because I am most sincerely persuaded that, next to the virtues of His Majesty and the general loyalty of his subjects, this country owes its preservation to the wisdom and integrity of Mr. Pitt and his colleagues.”
But all this should never make the Porcupine “the blind instrument of party, the trumpet of indiscriminate applause.” The prospectus concluded with further references to the writer’s long-continued solicitude for the happiness and glory of England.
The first number of the Porcupine appeared on Thursday, Oct. 30th, and the price was 6d. It bore the motto—Fear God, Honour the King. The proprietor had received five columns of advertisements, notwithstanding a previous announcement that the “obscene and filthy boastings of quackery” would, on no consideration whatever, be admitted. So the paper had a very fair start. In the third week, the early numbers were being reprinted; and on the 9th December, the circulation had reached 1500. Also,—
“The Porcupine cannot boast of being seen in the numerous pot-houses of this metropolis: but we have the superior advantage of being generally read by persons of property, rank, and respectability.”
This was probably the case, for the Anti-Jacobin Review condescended to back up Mr. Cobbett thus:—
“… A daily paper, under the title of the Porcupine, has been most deservedly admitted as a desirable appendix at the breakfasting-table of every true friend to their king, to their country, and to decency.”
Mr. Pitt’s resignation of office, early in 1801, although ostensibly caused by his difference with the king upon the Catholic question, had for its object, more probably, the substitution of a minister who could consistently negotiate with Buonaparte. This was suspected by many; and it appeared conclusive, upon the almost incredible announcement that Mr. Addington was to take the helm of affairs. That arch-mediocrity, owing his promotion entirely to royal favour, had filled the Speaker’s chair with tolerable credit, but was without any of the gifts entitling him to rank among statesmen; and, until it was discovered that Mr. Pitt was still chief wire-puller, the nation could hardly credit the appointment; and, as far as can now be judged, it was the beginning of a more widely-spread distrust of Pitt.