“The Morning Herald, in the delirious enjoyment of its puns and conundrums.”
“Profound Morning Post! poor innocent! what does it know of the existing differences between this country and America? No more, we dare engage, than do the footmen and chambermaids who read its conundrums with such delight.… We would indeed earnestly recommend the Morning Post to avoid politics altogether. Its company will always be welcome in the kitchen, and sometimes in the nursery.”
The Porcupine had the smaller difficulties to contend with; as when several country subscribers complained of “other papers being foisted on them;” and “the flagrant imposition of some of the hawkers in Wimpole Street, who have charged eightpence for the Porcupine.” In fact, there was a little too much communicability on the part of the editor toward his correspondents, at the same time that correspondents were permitted to be very plain-spoken. One of them suggested that satire would be more keen if conveyed in the most polished language: he thought that “the comparison, some days ago, of the dog returning to his vomit, or any ideas or expressions bearing upon coarseness, offend the more refined inhabitants of this kingdom.”
In inviting correspondence for his paper, Mr. Cobbett adopted a course which is not usually taken, viz. that of requesting that communications be not accompanied with the real name of the author. He was, besides, much plagued with unpaid letters—a circumstance which he had often to complain of both before and after this period. Some of his correspondents were people of real distinction, among them being Lord Grenville, who wrote letters under the name of Sulpicius. Jeremy Bentham, also, contributed a long article upon the projected Population Bill; which appears in the Porcupine of Dec. 1st, 1800, and is reprinted in Bentham’s collected writings.
Toward the close of the Porcupine’s career, the negotiations for peace came to a conclusion, and that paper stood almost alone in opposition. The perilous task of boldly attacking the First Consul was pursued:—
“We request our readers to observe that henceforth we shall be very particular in what we say about the most illustrious sovereign, Consul Buonaparte. Oh, how we shall extol him! We shall endeavour to give our readers the earliest information when he rises, breakfasts, dines, sups, and spits.”
And, as all this was in direct violation of the popular feeling of the moment, a catastrophe occurred which, in all probability, contributed to bring the Porcupine and Anti-gallican Monitor to an untimely end. Mr. Cobbett was repeatedly urged to bend before the blast, but that was not in him.
The story appears to be this. Lauriston, the bearer of the despatches containing the preliminaries of peace, received an ovation from the mob, immediately upon his landing. On his reaching London, “a vile, degraded rabble, miscalled Britons, took the horses out of the carriage,” and dragged the vehicle round the parks and the West-end in triumph.
The Porcupine was horrified: this was all in the French style, and the nation was prostrate at the feet of Buonaparte. But, among all reflecting politicians, the peace was derided; and, several persons declining to light up their windows in token of rejoicing, had the mortification of seeing them broken. On the 7th October, all the windows on the east side of Berkeley Square were damaged; and Bond Street and the neighbourhood displayed similar evidences of popular displeasure. On Saturday, the 10th, a general illumination took place; and there were few who dared to run the risk of being counter to that displeasure. Among those few, however, was the publisher of the Porcupine, who had in the morning’s paper reiterated his objections to the proposed treaty; and now, in the evening, resolutely kept the windows in darkness, both of the house in Pall Mall, and of that in Southampton Street. Of course, both houses were sacked, the cheerful rabble keeping up a siege of six or seven hours’ duration,—the person in charge, at the newspaper office, narrowly escaping with his life.