“When it was known in America, that so heavy, so dreadful a sentence, had been passed upon me, a sentence which no man could regard as much short of death; a sentence surpassing in severity those for nineteen-twentieths of the felonies; when this sentence was heard of in America, where every creature was well acquainted with what I had there suffered from my devotion to my country, every one naturally felt eager to know what I could have done to merit such a sentence? And, when the people of that country came to see what it was; when they came to read the article, for the writing of which I was to be so heavily punished; when they came to consider the subject-matter of that publication, and to reflect on how they themselves might become interested in it, there naturally came forth through the press an expression of some sentiments which have finally had their effect in producing the Act of Congress above inserted; and thus has the hateful practice of flogging men been abolished by law in a great and rising, and wonderfully-increasing nation. I do not pretend to say that the American Government would have had any desire to continue the practice of flogging, though the discussions on the subject had never taken place in England. On the contrary, I am of opinion that that Government was glad of an opportunity of getting rid of it; but I am of opinion that the thing would not have been thought of, had it not been for the discussions in England. Sir Vicary Gibbs was little apprehensive of these effects when he was prosecuting me; he could scarcely have hoped that his labours would be productive of consequences so important, so beneficial, and honourable to mankind; he hardly, I dare say, flattered himself that he was ensuring the extension of his renown through a whole continent of readers.”
It was, then, no idle boast, that imprisonment need not kill, nor even seriously injure, a man: that a jail was “as good a place for study as any other.” But, really, although the temporary loss of liberty is an unpleasant thing, considered in the abstract, there can be no possible objection to a man putting as good a face as he can on the matter. Life itself is nothing but a life-long struggle of a kindred character: to try and get an optimist view of bad circumstances. And, if one must needs take his daily exercise upon the leads of Newgate prison, instead of through his coppices and cornfields: if he must get his “violets and primroses, and cowslips and harebells,” sent up by the carrier, because of their extreme rarity in the street below; let him thank a propitious Heaven for so much!
In point of fact, few prisoners were ever so blessed as Cobbett. The reader is familiar enough (from the pages of “Advice,” &c.) with the current of domestic joy that kept flowing. But, besides having one or other of his family continually with him, there were always sympathizing visitors: personal friends, business acquaintances, deputations from clubs and societies all over the kingdom. And, what was of no little importance, Matthew Wood was sheriff, who attended, in every possible way, to the comfort of his prisoner. Baron Maseres[4] came frequently, and “always in his wig and gown, in order, as he said, to show his abhorrence of the sentence.”
“I was hardly arrived when the brave old Major Cartwright came.… You [Peter Walker, of Worth, Sussex] were the next to arrive; and when, by dint of money, I had obtained the favour to be put into a room by myself, you hurried home, and brought me bedstead, chairs, tables, bedding, and everything; and I think I see you now, stripped in your shirt, putting the bedstead together and making up my bed. During the whole of the two years you never suffered me to be lonely; and your kindness was such, that when you found me engaged—when any one arrived—you instantly departed, unless pressed to stay. Thus proving that your visits arose solely from your desire to alleviate the sufferings of confinement. And, at the close of the period, though the sum was so enormous, and the period so long, you, with my excellent friend Brown, voluntarily became my bail, and spoke of it, as he did, as an honour done to yourself.”
And, as to his health, Cobbett would boast in after years that he never had even a headache for a moment; never enjoyed better health or spirits; never had hopes more lively, or thoughts more gay, than in that prison.
But that which, above all other matters, appeared to be the great solace of his prison-life, was the production of his famous work on the Currency, under the title of “Paper against Gold.”[5] The tricks and contrivances by which paper-money had been, along with the funding system, made the means of placing unwieldy fortunes in the hands of speculators, was his utter abhorrence. The glory was departed from England, in his eyes, if public credit were to hang upon the prosperity of the few, as against the multitude. And, regarding a fictitious currency, shifting in value from day to day, sometimes even from hour to hour, as a leading cause of the debt which was accumulating to such a terrible figure,—he resolved to devote a part of his newly-found leisure to the systematizing of his thought upon the subject.
Accordingly, upon the 1st of September, he commenced a series of papers, founded upon the recent report of the Bullion Committee; tracing the history of the National Debt, and of the schemes for raising money which had been in vogue during the war.
Here is his story (told in 1822) of the first conception of the plan, and his notion of its value:—