There is something which strikes us as infinitely diverting in his suggestion that everybody in Virginia would be interested in his letter. But perhaps he was nearer the truth than we realize, for in his day all news came through such sources, and a letter was regarded as a good thing, which it would be gross selfishness not to share with one’s neighbors. As for a letter from Europe it was an affair of the greatest magnitude, exciting the interest of the whole community.
Those giant folios which entertain us every morning with their gossip from all quarters of the globe had no existence then. Early in the last century, the Colonial Cavalier gleaned all his knowledge of the world and its affairs, from some three-month-old copy of the London papers and magazines, brought over by a British packet. Even this communication, it seems, was uncertain, for complaint is made that the masters of vessels keep the packages till an accidental conveyance offers, and for want of better opportunities frequently commit them to boatmen, who care very little for their goods, so they get their freight.
The colonists had struggled to establish a local journal, and a printing press had been started in Virginia in the seventeenth century, but it had been strangled in its infancy by Berkeley, who declared it the parent of treason and infidelity; and so it came about that the Southern Provinces had no public utterance for their news or their views, till the silence was broken by the voice of Maryland, speaking through her Gazette, in 1727, when in all America there were only six rival sheets. Franklin says that his brother’s friends tried to dissuade him from publishing The New England Courant, on the ground that there was already one newspaper in America. His memory lapsed a little, as The Courant had in fact three predecessors, but the incident shows how little notion there was at that time, of the public demand for news.
In 1736, was first issued The Virginia Gazette, a dingy little sheet about twelve by six inches in size, and costing to subscribers, fifteen shillings a year. The newspaper of the day had no editorial page. Its comments on public affairs were in the form of letters, after the fashion of The Tatler and The Spectator. It had a poet’s corner, where many a young versemaker tried the wings of his Pegasus, and it printed also poetical tributes under the notices of deaths and marriages. In this section, after the record of the wedding of Mr. William Derricoat and Miss Suckie Tomkies, appear these lines:
“Hers the mild lustre of the blooming morn
And his the radiance of the rising day—
Long may they live and mutually possess
A steady love and genuine happiness!”
When Edmund Randolph married Betsey Nicholas, the poet found himself unable to express his emotions in less than two stanzas:
“Exalted theme, too high for common lays!
Could my weak muse with beauty be inspired,
In numbers smooth I’d chant my Betsy’s praise,
And tell how much her Randolph is admired.
“To light the hymeneal torch, since they’re resolved,
Kind Heaven, I trust, will make them truly blest;
And when the Gordian knot shall be dissolved,
Translate them to eternal peace and rest.”
It is safe to say that this figure, comparing matrimony with a Gordian knot, was original with the poet. Had the bridegroom been as fiery and “sparkish” as Colonel Park, he might have called out the writer, but he seems to have taken it in good part.
The prospectus of the Maryland Gazette for 1745 announces that its price will be twelve shillings a year, or fourteen shillings sealed and delivered. It promises the freshest advices, foreign and domestic, but adds, with much simplicity and candor: “In a dearth of news, which in this remote part of the world may sometimes reasonably be expected, we shall study to supply the deficit by presenting our readers with the best material we can possibly collect, having always due regard to the promotion of virtue and learning, the suppression of vice and immorality, and the instruction as well as entertainment of our readers.” What more could the most exacting subscriber demand?
Advertisements, then, as now, served the double purpose of filling space, and supporting the paper. They were charged for, at the rate of five shillings for the first week, and one shilling for each week following, provided they were of moderate length—a vague provision, one would say. These old advertisements are of great value to the student of the life of the past. They give a better picture of the condition of society, than a ream of “notes.” Here we read of the shipping of a crew on a packet bound for England. Half-way down the column a lost hog is advertised, and here, Edward Morris, breeches-maker, announces a sale of buckskin breeches, and gloves with high tops, and assures his customers that “they may depend on kind usage at reasonable rates.” Surely the resources of modern advertising have never devised anything more alluring than this promise of “kind usage at reasonable rates.”