CHAPTER VI.

“PETER PORCUPINE, AT YOUR SERVICE!”

Mr. Thomas Bradford’s Political Book Store, No. 8, South Front Street, is furnished with all the latest publications. The works of Paine, Volney, Godwin and others, fill his shelves, and those of the new Federal light enliven his counter. He is doing a roaring trade; senators look in and gossip, and laugh over Porcupine; members from the House of Representatives come in and flatter the writer, and want to be blessed with a sight of him--“one wanted to treat me to a supper, another wanted to shake hands with me, and a third wanted to embrace me.”

But Mr. Cobbett is getting too independent. On the next proposal to publish, he actually wants to have a voice in the matter, over some detail; and, early in 1796, their engagements are sundered.

The plan for opening the new year was a commentary on the debates in Congress, under the title of “The Prospect from the Congress Gallery.” The first number appeared at the end of January. The circumstances under which Cobbett broke off with his publisher are thus given in the American autobiography (published in the ensuing August):

“My concerns with Mr. Bradford closed with “The Prospect from the Congress Gallery;” and, as our separation has given rise to conjectures and reports, I shall trouble the reader with an explanation of the matter. I proposed making a mere collection of the debates, with here and there a note by way of remarks. It was not my intention to publish it in numbers, but at the end of the session, in one volume; but Mr. Bradford, fearing a want of success in this form, determined on publishing in numbers. This was without my approbation, as was also a subscription that was opened for the support of the work. When about half a Number was finished, I was informed that many gentlemen had expressed their desire, that the work might contain a good deal of original matter, and few debates. In consequence of this, I was requested to alter my plan; I said I would, but that I would by no means undertake to continue the work.

“The first Number, as it was called (but not by me) was published, and its success led Mr. Bradford to press for a continuation. His son offered me, I believe, a hundred dollars a Number, in place of eighteen; and, I should have accepted his offer, had it not been for a word that escaped him during the conversation. He observed, that their customers would be much disappointed, for that, his _father had promised_ a continuation, and _that it should be made very interesting_. This slip of the tongue opened my eyes at once. What! a bookseller undertake to promise that I should write, and that I should write to please his customers too! No; if all his _customers_, if all the Congress with the President at their head, had come and solicited me; nay, had my salvation depended on a compliance, I would not have written another line.

“I was fully employed at this time, having a translation on my hands for Mr. Moreau de St. Méry, as well as another work which took up a great deal of my time; so that, I believe, I should not have published the _Censor_ had it not been to convince the _customers_ of Mr. Bradford, that I was not in his pay; that I was not the puppet and he the showman. That, whatever merits or demerits my writings might have, no part of them fell to his share.”

The “Prospect” was pretty successful; and it was resolved to continue it occasionally. The next number was not published, however, till the end of March; and the title was changed to “The Political Censor.” But we now find on the title-page the name of Benjamin Davies, at No. 68, High Street--so it appears that the dissatisfaction with Mr. Bradford had some meaning in it. Between the first and second numbers of the “Censor,” Peter Porcupine produced a little book on French “horrors,” which had a great sale both in America and England, under the name of “The Bloody Buoy, thrown out as a Warning to the Political Pilots of all Nations: or, a faithful Relation of a Multitude of Acts of Horrid Barbarity, such as the Eye never witnessed, the Tongue expressed, or the Imagination conceived, until the Commencement of the French Revolution,” &c. This was published at Davies’ Book-store, and its announcement in the papers was probably the first intimation that Mr. Bradford had of the impending loss of Porcupine’s custom.

The later transactions between Cobbett and Bradford are thus disposed of in the autobiography:--

“After the ‘Observations,’ Mr. Bradford and I published together no longer. When a pamphlet was ready for the press, we made a bargain for it, and I took his note of hand, payable in one, two, or three months. That the public may know exactly what gains I have derived from the publications that issued from Mr. Bradford’s, I here subjoin a list of them, and the sums received in payment.

Dollars. Cents. Observations 0 21 Bone to Gnaw, 1st part 125 0 Kick for a Bite 20 0 Bone to Gnaw, 2nd part 40 0 Plain English 100 0 New Year’s Gift 100 0 Prospect 18 0 ------------ Total 403 21 ------------

“The best way of giving the reader an idea of the generosity of my bookseller is, to tell him, that upon my going into business for myself, I offered to purchase the copyrights of these pamphlets at the same price that I had sold them at. Mr. Bradford refusing to sell, is a clear proof that they were worth more than he gave me, even after they had passed through several editions. Let it not be said, then, that he put a coat upon my back.”

Upon Mr. Bradford finding that “The Political Censor” was to be carried on without his assistance and patronage, he wrote to Cobbett requesting him to fulfil the contract, which, he alleged, existed between them by the sale of the first “Prospect,” and threatened an “applycation” to the laws of his country, &c. Mr. Cobbett, remarking on this, says,--

“It is something truly singular, that Mr. Bradford should threaten me with a prosecution for not writing, just at the moment that others threatened me with a prosecution for writing. It seemed a little difficult to set both at open defiance, yet this was done, by continuing to write, and by employing another bookseller. Indeed, these booksellers in general are a cruel race. They imagine that the soul and body of every author that falls into their hands is their exclusive property. They have adopted the birdcatcher’s maxim: ‘A bird that can sing, and won’t sing, ought to be made sing.’ Whenever their devils are out of employment the drudging goblin of an author must sharpen up his pen, and never think of repose till he is relieved by the arrival of a more profitable job. Then the wretch may remain as undisturbed as a sleep-mouse in winter, while the stupid dolt, whom he has clad and fattened, receives the applause.”

An influential and respectable citizen of Philadelphia, at this period, was Benjamin Franklin Bache;[1] a strong Democrat, and particularly zealous on behalf of French opinions. He conducted a daily newspaper, the _Aurora_, and kept a political book-store. The _Aurora_ was one of the ablest and most influential journals on the American Continent; besides being, in its general appearance, a newspaper which put to shame even the London ones of that day. And the Editor and publisher of the _Aurora_, in his capacity of chief-whipper-in to the Democrats of Pennsylvania, among other matters, thought proper to allow his paper to become the vehicle for abusing Peter Porcupine. This newspaper, having escaped the usual fate of ephemeral publications, will furnish us with the means of judging exactly what Peter’s opponents thought of him.

As a specimen of the opposing factions, however, we will, at present, only refer to two New York papers.

_Minerva_, Jan. 15, 1796.

“PETER PORCUPINE has given an excellent key to Mr. Randolph’s Vindication. Never was a present better timed, than his New Year’s Gift to the Democrats. Every man who has read the Vindication, should read Peter’s explanations and comments upon it, especially all _Whigs_, to whom the _Argus_ recommends the perusal of the Vindication. We recommend Peter’s gift to the Democratic Society, and trust that, at their next meeting, they will publish resolutions expressing their approbation of the work, as they have lately done with respect to the president’s answer to the French minister.”

_Argus_, Jan. 18, 1796.

“An impartial correspondent desires us to say, that of all the vulgar catchpennies that ever he saw in print, the late one of PHINEAS PORCUPINE bears off the bell! This Porcupine or Hedgehog, after having fled (on account of his vile treachery to this his native country) for mere bread, became a garreteer writer for the refugees in London, and a clerk to an Old Bailey solicitor there; and it was through the interest of those refugees that this Hedgehog was returned upon us, in the character he now sustains! His views manifestly are to get himself tarred and feathered, that he may go back howling to England, for further promotion; but, from this hint, it is hoped that he will be disappointed by the democratic Philadelphians.”

Mr. Cobbett’s design of opening a shop of his own was, probably, formed very early in this year, 1796, and it may be set down as one result of the discovery that Bradford was making capital out of him. The plan appears to have been delayed for some months, and it was not until July that it was carried out. Meanwhile, several numbers of the “Censor” appeared, at the shop of Mr. Davies, and obtained considerable popularity. The original idea was a review of the political transactions of the past month; with an “account of every democratic trick, whether of native growth, or imported from abroad.” All of which meant, a defence of Great Britain with vigorous Federal partisanship.[2] Here is one extract from the first number, which will illustrate one of the leading topics that occupied the public mind. It must be recollected that the French Government were now more anxious than ever to court American alliance, they having been specially exasperated at the happy result of the treaty negotiations with England. They accordingly instructed Adet, their envoy, to begin the new year by presenting the national colours to the United States. Washington received the attention very graciously, and informed the minister that the colours would be deposited with the archives of the States. But he also considered it right “to exhibit to the two houses of Congress, these evidences of the continued friendship of the French republic.” This was accordingly done, on the 5th of January; and here is Porcupine’s account of the proceedings:--

“I was rather late in my attendance in Congress this day; a circumstance the more distressing, as I found not only the gallery, but even the passage also, full of spectators.… Every person within the walls of this House seemed to be waiting for the development of some great and important mystery. The members were paired off, laying their heads together, whispering and listening with great eagerness; while the Speaker, seated with his chin supported between his right finger and thumb, and his eyes rivetted to the floor, appeared lost, buried alive, as it were, in profundity of thought. Never did wisdom appear more lovely in my eyes.… The seriousness of the members of the House naturally produced the most anxious expectation in the minds of the good citizens in my quarter. A thousand ridiculous inquiries were made, in the twinkling of an eye, which were answered by a thousand still more ridiculous conjectures. One said that a law was going to be read to oblige the Virginians to free their slaves and pay their just debts; but another swore that was impossible. A third declared a second embargo was to be laid; and a fourth observed that it was to hinder the cruel English from carrying off our poor horses, to eat them in the West Indies.… To tell the reader the truth of my opinion, I was afraid that some new confiscating or sequestrating project was on foot; and when Mr. Dayton, the Speaker, awoke from his reverie, and began to speak,--‘Lord have mercy,’ said I, ‘upon the poor British creditors.’ My fears on this account were soon dissipated. The Speaker told us that this message was of the most _solemn_ and _serious_ nature, and he therefore requested both the members of the House and the strangers in the gallery to observe the profoundest silence.

“The reader will easily imagine that a warning like this increased the torture of suspense. It was now that we felt the value of the hearing faculty. I observed my neighbours brushing aside their matted and untutored locks, that nothing might impede the entrance of the glad tidings. We were, as the poet says, ‘all eye, all ear.’ But there was a little man down below, whose anxiety seemed to surpass that of all the rest. He crept to within a very few paces of the leeward side of the chair, and, turning himself sideways, lifted up the left corner of his wig, placing the auricular orifice open and extended, in a direct line with the Speaker’s mouth, so that not a single breath of the precious sounds could possibly escape him. His longing countenance seemed to say, in the language of his countryman, Macbeth:--‘Speak! Speak! had I three ears, by heaven I’d hear thee.’ …

“All at once, as if by the power of magic, the doors flew open, ‘grating on their hinges harsh thunder,’ and the President’s secretary was introduced with an American officer bearing a flag, which I took to be a representation of the day of judgment. It had a _thunderbolt_ in the centre, with a _cock_ perched upon it! the emblems of Almighty vengeance and of watchfulness. At two of the corners the _globe_ was represented in a flame. The staff was covered with black velvet, sad colour of death, and crowned with a Parisian pike,--fatal instrument, on which the bleeding and ghastly heads, nay, even the palpitating hearts of men, women, and children, have so often been presented to the view of the polite and humane inhabitants of that capital.

“Curiosity now gave way to another passion, that of fear. For my part, I am not ashamed to confess, that I never was in such trepidation since I first saw the light of day. Nor were my companions in a more enviable state. I looked round, and beheld the affrighted group huddled up together, like a brood of chickens waiting the mortal grip of the voracious kite. In this general picture of consternation one object attracted particular notice. It was a democrat, who was so fully persuaded that the flag was the harbinger of fate, that he began to anticipate the torments of the world to come. Never did I before behold such dreadful symptoms of a guilty conscience. He was as white as paper, his knees knocked together, his teeth chattered, he wrung his hands, and rolled his eyes, but durst not lift them towards heaven. His voice was like the yell of the inhabitants of the infernal regions. ‘Oh, Franklin Bache! Franklin Bache! Oh! that infernal atheistical calendar!’ This was all we could get from him; but this was enough to assure me that he was one of those unhappy wretches, who had been led astray by the profligate correspondents of Mr. Bache, and by the atheistical decadery calendar; which that gentleman has, with so much unholy zeal, endeavoured to introduce amongst us, in place of the Christian one we, as yet, make use of.

“My attention was called off from this terrific picture of despair by a voice from beneath. A tall spare man, dressed all in black from head to foot … was beginning, in a hollow voice, to read (as I expected) the decrees of fate, but to my agreeable surprise I found it was a decree of the National Convention: it was in the following words, &c.”

It was soon after this date that Cobbett made the acquaintance of Monsieur Talleyrand. The notion that the latter was a spy, was at once formed in Cobbett’s mind; and he long continued to have that idea, on the ground that Talleyrand was received with open arms, very soon after his return to France, by the very men who had proscribed him. There is no real basis for the suspicion (which, indeed, has been entertained in other quarters), but Mr. Cobbett gives very colourable reasons for his belief:--

“First he set up as a _merchant and dealer_ at New York, till he had acquired what knowledge he thought was to be come at among persons engaged in mercantile affairs; then he assumed the character of a _gentleman_, at the same time removing to Philadelphia, where he got access to persons of the first rank,--all those who were connected with, or in the confidence of, the Government. Some months after his arrival in this city, he left a message with a friend of his, requesting me to meet him at that friend’s house. Several days passed away before the meeting took place. I had no business to call me that way, and therefore I did not go. At last this modern Judas and I got seated by the same fireside. I expected that he wanted to expostulate with me on the severe treatment he had met with at my hands. I had called him an apostate, a hypocrite, and every other name of which he was deserving; I therefore leave the reader to imagine my astonishment, when I heard him begin with complimenting me on my _wit_ and _learning_. He praised several of my pamphlets, the ‘New Year’s Gift’ in particular, and still spoke of them as mine. I did not acknowledge myself the author, of course; but yet he would insist that I was; or, at any rate, they reflected, he said, _infinite honour_ on the author, let him be who he might. Having carried this species of flattery as far as he judged it safe, he asked me, with a vast deal of apparent seriousness, whether I had received my education at _Oxford_ or at _Cambridge_! Hitherto I had kept my countenance pretty well; but this abominable stretch of hypocrisy, and the placid mien and silver accent with which it was pronounced, would have forced a laugh from a quaker in the midst of meeting. I don’t recollect what reply I made him, but this I recollect well, I gave him to understand that I was no trout, and consequently was not to be caught by tickling.

“This information led him to something more solid. He began to talk about _business_. I was no _flour merchant_,[3] but I taught English; and, as luck would have it, this was the very commodity that Bishop Perigord wanted. If I had taught Thornton’s or Webster’s language,[4] or sold sand or ashes, or pepper-pot, it would have been just the same to him. He knew the English language as well as I did; but he wanted to have dealings with me in some way or other.

“I knew that, notwithstanding his being proscribed at Paris, he was extremely intimate with Adet; and this circumstance led me to suspect his real business in the United States. I therefore did not care to take him as a scholar. I told him that being engaged in a translation for the press, I could not possibly quit home. This difficulty the lame fiend hopped over in a moment. He would very gladly come to my house. I cannot say but it would have been a great satisfaction to me to have seen the _ci-devant_ Bishop of Autun, the guardian of the holy oil that anointed the heads of the descendants of St. Louis, come trudging through the dirt to receive a lesson from me; but, on the other hand, I did not want a French spy to take a survey either of my desk or my house. My price for teaching was six dollars a month; he offered me _twenty_, but I refused; and before I left him, I gave him clearly to understand that I was not to be purchased.”

Preparations were now being made for opening the bookselling business; and after midsummer the house was ready. The shop was opened on the 11th of July, and Mr. Cobbett took advantage of the opportunity thus furnished to make a grand demonstration. The account of this new start in life is better told in his own words:--

“Till I took this house I had remained almost entirely unknown as a writer. A few persons did indeed know that I was the person who had assumed the name of Peter Porcupine; but the fact was by no means a matter of notoriety. The moment, however, that I had taken the lease of a large house, the transaction became a topic of public conversation, and the eyes of the Democrats and the French, who still lorded it over the city, and who owed me a mutual grudge, were fixed upon me.

“I thought my situation somewhat perilous. Such truths as I had published, no man had dared to utter in the United States since the rebellion. I knew that these truths had mortally offended the leading men amongst the Democrats, who could, at any time, muster a mob quite sufficient to destroy my house, and to murder me. I had not a friend to whom I could look with any reasonable hope of receiving efficient support; and as to the law, I had seen too much of republican justice to expect anything but persecution from that quarter. In short, there were in Philadelphia about ten thousand persons, all of whom would have rejoiced to see me murdered; and there might probably be two thousand who would have been very sorry for it; but not above fifty of whom would have stirred an inch to save me.

“I saw the danger, but also saw that I must at once set all danger at defiance, or live in everlasting subjection to the prejudices and caprice of the democratical mob. I resolved on the former, and as my shop was to open on a Monday morning, I employed myself all day on Sunday in preparing an exhibition that I thought would put the courage and the power of my enemies to the test. I put up in my windows, which were very large, all the portraits that I had in my possession of kings, queens, princes, and nobles. I had all the English ministry, several of the bishops and judges, the most famous admirals, and, in short, every picture that I thought likely to excite rage in the enemies of Great Britain.

“Early on the Monday morning I took down my shutters. Such a sight had not been seen in Philadelphia for twenty years. Never since the beginning of the rebellion had any one dared to hoist at his window the portrait of George the Third.…

“I had put up a representation of Lord Howe’s victory in a leaf of the ‘European Magazine;’ but a bookseller with whom I was acquainted, and who came to see how I stood it, whispered me, while the rabble were gazing and growling at my door, that he had two large representations of the same action. They were about four feet long and two wide: the things which are hawked about and sold at the farm-houses in England.… The letters were large; the mob, ten or twenty deep, could read, and they did read aloud too, ‘LORD HOWE’S DECISIVE VICTORY OVER THE FRENCH FLEET;’ and, therefore, though the price was augmented from sixpence to two dollars each, I purchased them, and put one up at the window.… The other I sold to two Englishmen, who were amongst the numbers that went to America about the years 1794 and 1795, misled by the representations of Paine and others, and being, as they frankly acknowledged to me, enemies of their country when they left it. They had mixed amongst the crowd, had taken the part of their country, and had proposed to maintain their words with their fists. After the quarrel had in some degree subsided, they, partly, perhaps, by way of defiance, came into the shop to purchase each of them a picture of Lord Howe and his victory. Finding that I had but one for sale, they would have purchased that; but as it amounted to more money than both of them were possessed of, they went and, in their phrase, which I shall never forget, _kicked their master_,--that is to say, got money in advance upon their labour.… Having thus obtained the two dollars, each of them took an end of the print in his hand, displayed it, and thus carried it away through the mob, who, though they still cursed, could not help giving signs of admiration.”

The result of all this was just what was to be expected. Threats of personal violence, with plenty of abuse in the newspapers, at once ensued. On the 16th of July, Cobbett’s landlord, John Oldden, received a threatening letter, to the effect that that “daring scoundrell,” his tenant, was about to be punished; and with a view of preventing Mr. Oldden’s feeling the blow designed for Porcupine, his correspondent addresses him; as, when the time of retribution arrives, “it may not be convenient to discriminate between the innocent and the guilty,” and his property may suffer. As a friend, therefore, he advises him to save his property by either compelling Mr. Porcupine to leave his house, or at all events oblige him “to cease exposing his abominable productions or any of his courtly prints at his window for sale.” On the same day, a correspondent of the _Aurora_ informs the readers of that paper that the “hireling writer of the British Government” has just refused to pay his taxes, and was behaving very saucily; until the tax-collector began to bully him, and call him a d----d rascal, and threaten to break every bone in his skin. At which display of spirit, Peter was cooled, &c.

In vain all this. Before the week is out, all this is brought before the Philadelphia public. A pamphlet appears on the 22nd, entitled “The Scare-Crow; being an infamous letter, &c., with remarks on the same,” in which Mr. Cobbett makes fun of the affair, has another fling at the French and the Democrats, and announces that his taxes are paid up to January, 1797.

The charge of being in British pay had now been cropping up for some time, and it was necessary to take some notice of it, if only for the sake of British credit. At length, a very abusive paragraph having appeared in the _Aurora_ about this time, presuming to identify the agent who was supplying Peter with the gold of Pitt, the matter became imperative. Accordingly, Cobbett took the opportunity of publishing the history of his life;[5]--a thing which he says he had determined to do, whenever a fair occasion offered.

The communication to the _Aurora_ newspaper stated, among other things, that Porcupine had been “obliged to abscond from his darling old England to avoid being turned off into the other world before his time;” that his usual occupation at home was that of a “garret-scribbler” (excepting a little “night-business” occasionally, to supply unavoidable contingencies); and that he had to take French leave for France; that he was obliged as suddenly to leave that Republic, and figured some time in America as a pedagogue; “but as this employment scarcely furnished him salt to his porridge, he having been literally without hardly bread to eat, and not a second shirt to his back, he resumed his old occupation of scribbling, having little chance of success in the _other employments_ which drove him to this country.” He is a fugitive felon; but his sudden change of condition shows that secret-service money has been liberally employed; “for his zeal to make atonement to his mother country seems proportioned to the magnitude of his offence, and the guineas advanced.” And so on.

The first announcement of “The Life and Adventures of Peter Porcupine” appears in the _Gazette of the United States_[6] of the 9th August; and its publication was the signal for a fresh outburst of spleen on the part of Peter’s opponents. And no wonder; for, as a mixture of artlessness and cool impudence, the “Life and Adventures” has seldom been equalled. Gaily daring, he begs his opponents to come on, and fire away at his reputation “till their old pens are worn to the stump,” and expresses his extreme sorrow that lies and threats will be all in vain, for he is “one of those whose obstinacy increases with opposition.” In point of fact, Peter was just now somewhat intoxicated with success. The applause of friends, and of that large class in every community that is ready to worship successful impudence--along with the virulence of his opponents, and the consciousness of honourable and patriotic motives--had their natural results in the mind of an ardent and earnest man who has recently emerged from obscurity, and who has suddenly learnt how easy it is to become famous--in a country, too, where a spade might be called a spade without fear of an Attorney-General--in a land where existed (at that period) the only semblance of liberty in the whole world.

And, as it turned out, years after, this daring “scoundrell” was the only man found worthy--because the only one with pluck enough--to do good work when he got face to face with his country’s enemies at home.

* * * * *

Mr. Cobbett’s reply to the charge of being in the pay of the British Government was easy enough:--

“It is hard to prove a negative; it is what no man is expected to do; yet I think I can prove that the accusation of my being in British pay is not supported by one single fact, or the least shadow of probability.

“When a foreign Government hires a writer, it takes care that his labours shall be distributed, whether the readers are all willing to pay for them or not. This we daily see verified in the distribution of certain blasphemous gazettes, which, though kicked from the door with disdain, fly in at the window. Now, has this ever been the case with the works of Peter Porcupine? Were they ever thrusted upon people in spite of their remonstrances? Can Mr. Bradford say that thousands of these pamphlets have ever been paid for by any agent of Great Britain? Can he say that I have ever distributed any of them? No; he can say no such thing. They had, at first, to encounter every difficulty, and they have made their way supported by public approbation, and by that alone. Mr. Bradford, if he is candid enough to repeat what he told me, will say that the British Consul, when he purchased half a dozen of them, insisted upon having them _at the wholesale price_! Did this look like a desire to encourage them? Besides, those who know anything of Mr. Bradford will never believe that he would have lent his aid to a British agent’s publications; for, of all the Americans I have yet conversed with, he seems to entertain the greatest degree of rancour against that nation.

“I have every reason to believe that the British Consul was far from approving of some at least of my publications. I happened to be in a bookseller’s shop, unseen by him, when he had the goodness to say that I was a ‘_wild fellow_.’ On which I shall only observe, that when the king bestows on me about five hundred pounds sterling a year, perhaps I may become a _tame fellow_, and hear my master, my countrymen, my friends, and my parents, belied and execrated, without saying one single word in their defence.

“Had the Minister of Great Britain employed me to write, can it be supposed that he would not furnish me with the means of living well, without becoming the retailer of my own works? Can it be supposed that he would have suffered me ever to have appeared on the scene? It must be a very poor king that he serves, if he could not afford me more than I can get by keeping a book-shop. An ambassador from a king of the gipsies could not have acted a meaner part. What! where was all the ‘gold of Pitt’? That gold which tempted, according to the Democrats, an American envoy to sell his country and two-thirds of the Senate to ratify the bargain--that gold which, according to the Convention of France, has made one half of that nation cut the throats of the other half--that potent gold could not keep Peter Porcupine from standing behind a counter to sell a pen-knife or a quire of paper.

“Must it not be evident, too, that the keeping of a shop would take up a great part of my time--time that was hardly worth paying for at all, if it was not of higher value than the profits on a few pamphlets? Every one knows that the ‘Censor’ has been delayed on account of my entering into business; would the Minister of Great Britain have suffered this, had I been in his pay? No; I repeat that it is downright stupidity to suppose that he would ever have suffered me to appear at all, had he even felt in the least interested in the fate of my works, or the effect they might produce. He must be sensible that, seeing the unconquerable prejudices existing in this country, my being known to be an Englishman would operate weightily against whatever I might advance. I saw this very plainly myself; but, as I had a living to get, and as I had determined on this line of business, such a consideration was not to awe me into idleness, or make me forego any other advantages that I had reason to hope I should enjoy.

“The notion of my being in British pay arose from my having now and then taken upon me to attempt a defence of the character of that nation, and of the intentions of its Government towards the United States. But have I ever teazed my readers with this, except when the subject necessarily demanded it? And if I have given way to my indignation when a hypocritical political divine attempted to degrade my country, or when its vile calumniators called it ‘an insular Bastile,’ what have I done more than every good man in my place would have done? What have I done more than my duty--than obeyed the feelings of my heart? When a man hears his country reviled, does it require that he should be paid for speaking in its defence?

“Besides, had my works been intended to introduce British influence, they would have assumed a more conciliating tone. The author would have flattered the people of this country, even in their excesses; he would have endeavoured to gain over the enemies of Britain by smooth and soothing language; he would ‘have stooped to conquer;’ he would not, as I have done, have rendered them hatred for hatred, and scorn for scorn.

“My writings, the first pamphlet excepted, have had no other object than that of keeping alive an attachment to the Constitution of the United States and the inestimable man who is at the head of the Government, and to paint in their true colours those who are the enemies of both; to warn the people, of all ranks and descriptions, of the danger of admitting among them the anarchical and blasphemous principles of the French revolutionists--principles as opposite to those of liberty as hell is to heaven. If, therefore, I have written at the instance of a British agent, that agent must most certainly deserve the thanks of all the real friends of America. But, say some of the half Democrats, what right have you to meddle with the defence of our Government at all?--The same right that you have to exact my obedience to it, and my contributions towards its support.”

It does not appear that Porcupine had the battle entirely on his own hands. Mr. Fenno’s _Gazette_ occasionally ventured into the arena; and the presidential following was still strong, even in democratic Philadelphia. Still, Peter seems to have borne the brunt of it for a few months, before others dared to follow. That others did, after a time, he expressly states. But the position he occupied, in the public mind, for a short period in 1796, is almost unexampled. Scarcely a week passed, in the months of August and September, without some new attack upon him, on the part of the _Aurora_ newspaper;[7] and there is one day in September upon which that great “public instructor” had two anti-Porcupine paragraphs, and several advertisements of such productions as these:

“A Pill for Porcupine; being a specific for an obstinate itching, which that hireling has long contracted for lying and calumny, containing a vindication of the American, French, and Irish characters, against his scurrilities.”

“Porcupine, a print; to be had at Moreau de St. Méry’s book-store.”

“The Blue Shop, or Impartial and Humourous Observations on the Life and Adventures of Peter Porcupine; with the real motives which gave rise to his abuse of our distinguished patriotic characters; together with a full and fair view of his late Scare-Crow. [Illustration] This is interesting to all parties.”

“The Impostor Detected, or a review of some of the writings of Peter Porcupine. By Timothy Tickletoby.

“‘He is a monster of such horrid mien, As to be hated needs but to be seen.’--_Pope._”

“This day is published, price one quarter of a dollar, embellished with a curious frontispiece,--

“The Adventures of Peter Porcupine, or the Villain Unmasked; being the Memoirs of a notorious Rogue lately in the British Army, and _ci-devant_ member of an extensive _light-fingered_ association in England. Containing a narrative of the most extraordinary and unexampled depravity of conduct perhaps ever exhibited to the world, in a letter to a young gentleman in New York.

“‘These things are strange, but not more strange than true.’

“To which is added a postscript to Peter Porcupine, being remarks on a pamphlet lately published by him, entitled his ‘Life and Adventures.’ By Daniel Detector.

“‘I’ll tell the bold-faced villain that he lies.’

“[Illustration] As this pamphlet was _hurried_ through the press, several mistakes were unavoidable: particularly, in the first three hundred which were sold, the word England instead of France appeared in the first line of the paragraph beginning in the forty-fifth page.”

Mr. Bradford was the publisher (if not the author) of one of these, viz., “The Impostor Detected;” and it seems that Cobbett had, when “The Bone to Gnaw, part ii.” appeared, written a letter to the editor of the _Aurora_ (as an indirect puff), running down the pamphlet. But Mr. Bradford omitted to state that the bookseller had instigated the author. Cobbett, however, acknowledges the fact, in the “Political Censor” for September; and, after duly spitting Mr. Bradford for the breach of confidence, proceeds to justify the “puff indirect” by appealing to precedents, instancing Addison and Pope as persons who had done that sort of thing.

Here is a bit on the Porcupine side, from Mr. Fenno’s _Gazette_:--

“The enemies of the President of the United States, and of the Federal Government, pretend to be affronted that a man born in England should presume to say a civil thing of the character of George Washington. The consistency of this will appear when the public are assured that very few of the abusive scribblers who slander his reputation have one drop of American blood in their veins.”

Which of course brings up the _Aurora_, the editor of which is desirous of assuring the public that his contributors are all native Americans.

But this is, perhaps, enough for our purpose, in showing the acrimonious feelings which existed at the period. Suffice it to say that any person who defended George Washington was certain of getting the foulest abuse from his opponents; whilst the idea of a discharged British non-commissioned officer entering the lists was not to be borne. As one correspondent of the democratic newspaper said, “While I am a friend to the unlimited freedom of the press, when exercised by _an American_, I am an implacable foe to its prostitution to a _foreigner_, and would at any time assist in hunting out of society any meddling foreigner who should dare to interfere in our politics.” These writers, however, did not allow their principles to govern them so far, that they could deny themselves the duty of interfering in foreign politics, especially those of England. Rounds of abuse follow, from day to day, upon everything that is not revolutionary and anti-monarchical. As for Mr. Pitt’s new notion of uniting Ireland with Great Britain, a more “atrocious and diabolical project” never entered the mind of man.

Peter Porcupine, however, stands all this with calm audacity. The advertisements of his new business appear in the _Gazette of the United States_; and he announces,--among “New Drawing Books from the Best Masters,” Watson’s “Apology for the Bible,” &c.,--“The Blue Shop,” “The Impostor Detected;” besides a full supply of all “the Grub-street pamphlets vomited forth from the lungs of filth and falsehood against Peter Porcupine.” And this game was carried on, more or less, for a month or two longer; but its very violence was fatal to its continuance, and the combatants seemed to get weary of throwing so much dirt at each other. At the end of September, the “Political Censor,” No. 5, was devoted, partly, to a review of some of the anonymous pamphlets[8] against Porcupine, and to a brisk rejoinder to the misrepresentations of Bradford and his son, relative to his pecuniary transactions with Cobbett. The number concluded as follows:--

“I now take leave of the Bradfords, and of all those who have written against me. People’s opinions must now be made up concerning them and me. Those who still believe the lies that have been vomited forth against me are either too stupid or too perverse to merit further attention. I will, therefore, never write another word in reply to anything that is published about myself. Bark away, hell-hounds, till you are suffocated in your own foam! Your labours are preserved, bound up together in a piece of bear-skin with the hair on, and nailed up to a post in my shop, where whoever pleases may read them gratis.”

Besides, other matters wanted attention: the French Embassy was again becoming a disturbing factor, and Washington had announced that he should retire from public life at the approaching close of his second term of office.

FOOTNOTES

[1] His father, Richard Bache, was a zealous revolutionist who had emigrated from Settle, in Yorkshire, and settled in America as a merchant. He married Sarah Franklin, and succeeded her distinguished father as Postmaster-General of the United States. Died at Settle, Penn., in 1811. Sarah Franklin Bache was long remembered for her patriotic services during the revolutionary war. Their son, Benjamin Franklin Bache, accompanied his grandfather to Paris, gained a knowledge of printing at Didot’s, and returned to America in 1785. Five years later, he started the _General Advertizer_, subsequently called the _Aurora_, which paper exercised considerable influence in opposition to the administration of Washington and Adams. Born 1769, died 1798, of the fever which was then devastating the city.

[2] “The _Censor_, a work by Peter Porcupine, administers his monthly correction to our disorganizers. The author is said to be an Englishman who has kept a school in this city.”--Letter from C. Goodrich to Oliver Wolcott, printed in “Memoirs of the Administrations of Washington and Adams,” by O. W.

[3] Certain mysterious flour-contractors are heard of in Randolph’s “Vindication,” and Porcupine used the term afterwards to signify persons who could take French money.

[4] Thornton’s language--this is an allusion to a prize dissertation on written and printed language, by one Wm. Thornton, M.D. It was published in Philadelphia in 1793, and introduced some new symbols. Cobbett’s objection to it was, that it was an attempt to make an _American_ language, as an improvement on English. For the curious in such matters, the title of the Essay is “Cadmus; or, a Treatise on the Elements of Written Language,” &c.

Noah Webster, long before the great Dictionary made him famous, had written “Dissertations on the English Language” (1789), which included an Essay on Spelling Reform, a capital advantage of which reform would be the “making a difference between English and American orthography.” (_Vide_ Allibone; also Duyckinck’s “Cyclo. Amer. Lit.”)

[5] This is the short autobiography from which some of the preceding information as to Cobbett’s early life has been derived:--“The Life and Adventures of Peter Porcupine.” [Philadelphia, 1796.]

[6] A Federalist evening paper, edited by John Fenno. This newspaper was not so distinctively political as the _Aurora_; it dealt much more with mercantile affairs.

[7] The reader will be entertained, no doubt, by a specimen or two:--

“An outcast e’en in hell, and order’d thence, The skulking Peter hides,” &c.

“Mr. Bache,--You will excuse me for expressing my regret on seeing a character who styles himself Peter Porcupine so often noticed in your paper. What have the people of the United States to do with this man?… What importance can a British sergeant-major acquire in this country by traducing the heroes and counsellors of our late revolution?… His pamphlets are a libel upon common decency and common sense.… Is such a man worthy of being noticed in your paper, Mr. Bache? The best and only way would be to treat him with a silent contempt.”

“Anecdote of Peter Porcupine.--The British renegado was met one day by a French gentleman, who asked him if he was not Peter Porcupine. The question disordered the nerves of this assassin exceedingly, and with trembling accent he declared he was not. The French gentleman told him he doubted him; however, said he, ‘I will whip you, and you whip Peter Porcupine;’ and he horsewhipped him severely. This must have been trifling as to its effect upon Peter’s back, who had been used to a cat-o’-nine-tails when he served in the ranks in the British army, and before he deserted, &c.”

“Such a contemptible wretch as Peter Porcupine, who never gave any specimen of _his_ philosophy, but in bearing with Christian patience a severe whipping at the public post, &c.”

“The infamous Peter Porcupine, whose life has been one continued series of disgraceful crimes.”

But the most outrageous piece of “sarcasm” was this: the _Aurora_ of Sept. 13th inserted a pretended communication from Cobbett, in the following terms:--“Whereas it has been falsely asserted in the _Aurora_ that I had suffered the lash for certain misdemeanours, I beg leave, through the same channel, to deny the assertion, and to invite those who may still be tempted to place confidence in the calumnies of my enemies to favour me with a visit at any time between nine in the morning and one in the afternoon, or from three to six in the evening, when I shall be able to afford them _ocular demonstration_ that the charge is unfounded, and to prove Mr. Bache’s correspondent _a liar_.--(Signed) P. Porcupine.” The next evening, in Fenno’s _Gazette_, appears the following, evidently to show merely that Cobbett has seen the above, and affects contempt for it:--“Mr. Fenno,--I see that poor Richard’s grandchild published a notice yesterday morning, signed Peter Porcupine. Pray, sir, inform your readers that this wayward splinter from old lightning-rod never published an advertisement for me, and never will.--I am, &c., Peter Porcupine.” Mr. Bache, however, thinks he has started too good a joke, and proceeds, in his paper of the 16th, to inform his readers that “Peter Porcupine’s levée yesterday and the day before, it is said, was more crowded than that of the President’s generally is. All his visitors, however, are not satisfied with the proofs he has exhibited of his never having been scourged _à la militaire_; some indeed appear to be fully convinced that his skin is absolutely whole. Some pretend to have perceived on his back slight transversal marks, which they think resemble old scars; but he assures that, if any such are to be observed, they must have been the effects of the trifling flagellation he received in this city from the Frenchman. His considering that accident as a trifle strengthens the belief that he speaks from experience and by comparison. Others of his visitors cannot see the marks observed by the first; but, in the stubborn spirit of determined unbelievers, declare that they have heard of a chemical preparation which, by persevering application, will remove the largest scars, and they maliciously surmise that Peter Porcupine must be in possession of the secret.”

[8] For the use of any possible bibliographer, it may be well to name other squibs which appeared, besides those already enumerated:--

“The History of a Porcupine.”

“The Little Innocent Porcupine Hornet’s Nest.”

“The Last Confession and Dying Speech of Peter Porcupine, with an Account of his Dissection.”

“A Roaster; or, A Check to Political Blasphemy: intended as a Brief Reply to Peter Porcupine, alias Billy Cobbler. By Sim Sansculotte.”

“The Political Massacre; or, Unexpected Observations on the Writings of our present Scribblers. By James Quicksilver, Author of the ‘Blue Shop.’”

“British Honour and Humanity; or, American Patience, as exemplified in the Modest Publications, and Universal Applause, of Mr. William Cobbett, &c., &c. By a Friend to Regular Government.”

On the other side we find,--

“Tit for Tat; or, A Purge for a Pill. Being an Answer to a scurrilous pamphlet lately published, entitled ‘A Pill for Porcupine,’ &c.”

There was also a temperate answer to “The Bloody Buoy:--“Reflections on French Atheism and on English Christianity. By William Richards, A.M., Member of the Pennsylvania Society for Promoting the Abolition of Slavery.”

Besides the straight hits above-mentioned, Mr. Cobbett complains (_Porcupine’s Gazette_, 7th March, 1797) of an attack on Christianity which had been published some months before, entitled “Christianity contrasted with Deism. By Peter Porcupine;” the thing being no work of his, and his assumed name being placed on the title-page, either to discredit his own performances, or for the more innocent purpose of promoting the sale of the work.