So, with this unusual piece of luggage in his possession, Mr. Cobbett returned to England, reaching Liverpool at the end of November, 1819, in company with his son William.
The conspiracy panic had well-nigh died away. But, in August, 1819, the memorable occurrence, known as the Manchester massacre, was the means of reanimating the fears of ministers, through the spirit of indignation which it had roused throughout the land. Parliament was called together in November, for the purpose of fresh repressive legislation; the product of which was the celebrated series, known as the Six Acts.[7]
It was at this juncture that Mr. Cobbett met his friends again at Liverpool: to the dismay of some, who told him that he was “jumping into the lion’s mouth:” to the joy of the great body of Reformers, who hastened to testify their gratification by every means in their power. From the towns of Yorkshire and Lancashire, especially, the Reformers crowded forward with addresses of welcome: in spite of the revived opposition of authority—opposition which was displayed in an unusual manner; as, when a poor fellow was put into jail, for going round the town of Bolton with the crier’s bell, in order to announce Mr. Cobbett’s safe return. Into jail, for ten weeks![8]
There was no need for violence on either side. As for Mr. Cobbett, he was constantly urging that “our cause” was “too good for any violence:” that he would have nothing to do with Reformers who called themselves Republicans. His first essays, after his return, are models of temperateness and wisdom: advice to the prime minister upon the condition of the country, and advice to the Reformers on sobriety and frugality: writings which would have raised a new man to immediate fame and fortune. But, they came from an old offender, whose unasked advice had too long been a terror. Violence, on the part of Mr. Cobbett’s opponents, did not cease—and he had, unfortunately, by his own imprudence, placed the means of violence in their hands. In the first place, the incident of Paine’s bones, coming at the time it did, was enough to damn any man’s reputation for discretion as to the fitness of things—nothing could have been more inopportune. In America, it was true, people were beginning to understand Paine, and republish his works. But in England, he was known only by his theology; and was branded as an Atheist, by the hirelings who could not, or dare not try to, refute him. No name on earth was buried beneath such a weight of obloquy. So, nothing could be easier, nothing so effective, as to couple the two names. And any fool who chose to call Mr. Cobbett an atheist, upon the word of some “constitutional” pamphleteer, could do so. As for the unfortunate bones, there never was such a joke! An ephemeral literature actually sprung up, on the topic[9]—whilst, from the custom house officers at Liverpool, startled at the unexpected importation,—to the man who now has them in his possession: from the man who recorded the arrival of the “bone-grubber,” to our very latest historical sketcher: the affair has been a laughing-stock.
And it cannot be said that this derision is altogether unmerited. Mr. Cobbett ought to have known his countrymen well enough, to remember that “relics” of this sort are thrown away upon them. He should have known that such a freak as his could only be safely performed, by an organized and influential public movement; and then, only, with a certainty of having to face disagreeable controversy. That the bones will be wanted, some day, may be safely predicted; knowing what we do of THE WHIRLIGIG OF TIME. But the business of raising a monument, recording the wisdom and political virtues of Thomas Paine, will scarcely be within the scope of that man’s powers who “stands alone.”[10]
Again, a subject which had greatly disturbed the minds of Mr. Cobbett’s friends was his relation with Sir Francis Burdett. The latter had advanced money to Cobbett (or to Wright for him), and there appeared little probability of its being repaid. Mr. Cobbett had acknowledged the debt (with some sort of protest, however), and promised to repay it, after he was enabled to provide for his family again.
Sir Francis Burdett had already inspired suspicion, in the breasts of the Reformers, as not being in earnest. He had called upon the people, for several years past, to “rally” and to “come forward,” and so on; but would back out of it at a critical juncture. He was still “Westminster’s pride and England’s glory,” in the hands of a Westminster clique; but, when the troubles of 1816-1817 began, he seemed to shrink from the cause of Reform. Perhaps he dreaded Republicanism, or had some other good reason for his backwardness. Certain it is, that, just before the opening of parliament in 1817, when all the leaders were wanted at their posts, Burdett was not there. And, upon Lord Cochrane proposing an amendment to the Address, which would have at least produced debate, Sir Francis allowed the motion to drop without a seconder. Now, this was so much like all the Whig popularity-hunting; and this end so much like the end of that,—that Cartwright and all the hearty Reformers ceased to put great faith in Burdett; and Mr. Cobbett only spoke the feelings of all, when he indignantly pointed out what was very like a betrayal of the cause. The only explanation that appears to have been obtained from Burdett was a protest against “being used as a puppet.”
Among the newspaper anecdotes which synchronized with Cobbett’s departure for America, was one concerning the debt of 3000l. to Sir Francis. This was the first the public heard of it. And, upon Mr. Cobbett proceeding to castigate Burdett for his lukewarmness, people called it “ingratitude” and “inconsistency.” This, however, might have been treated with contempt, but for the publication of some correspondence in the Examiner, which made it appear that Mr. Cobbett meant to repudiate the debt; a construction which it was quite possible to form, without knowing all the circumstances, and by the easy process of reading “extracts.”[11]
So, after Cobbett’s return from America, almost till the last year of his life, his money-affairs with Burdett were repeatedly cropping up, both in the newspapers and in the Political Register. The matter is not creditable to either of the parties. And when, after Cobbett’s death, upon a proposal to raise some kind of memorial, Sir Francis sent the 3000l. bond to the committee, telling them that they could take his subscription out of that; it looked a very unworthy proceeding on the part of a man, who had really owed a vast deal of his popularity and distinction to Mr. Cobbett’s zealous advocacy. Burdett’s vanity was at least equal to Cobbett’s egotism; and neither could forgive the other, after their special weaknesses had been shown up at each other’s hands. Several endeavours at reconciliation were made, on the part of mutual friends, but they ended in nothing.