William Cobbett . Edward E. Smith
Every honest man ought to wish that this were true; for the doctor has already made some discoveries of the utmost importance to future chemical emigrants, if he could be prevailed on to publish them. He might let his brethren into the secret of buying land (or rather rock) at a dollar an acre, and selling it again at ninepence-halfpenny. This is a sort of anti-chemistry, by which copper is extracted from silver; and the process by which it is accomplished must certainly be a desideratum in the learned world. The doctor might also favour curious foreigners with the feats of those American magi, vulgarly called land-surveyors, whose potent art levels the mountain with the valley, makes the rough way smooth, the crooked straight; whose creative pencil calls into being nodding woods and verdant lawns; and, like the rod of Moses, makes rivulets gush from the solid rock.
“ ‘Farewell,’ continue the United Irishmen, ‘farewell, great and good man; but, before you go, we beseech a portion of your parting prayer’ (down upon your marrow-bones, reader) ‘for Archibald Hamilton Rowan, Muir, Palmer, Margarot, and Gerald, who are now, like you, preparing to cross the bleak ocean. Farewell! soon will you embrace your sons on the American shore, Washington will take you by the hand, and the shade of Franklin look down, with calm delight on the first statesman of the age, extending his protection to its first philosopher.’ Here is certainly some mistake in the close of this farewell. What do they mean by the shade of Franklin looking down? To look down on a person one must be in an elevated situation; and I fancy it is pretty generally believed, by those who understand the geography of the invisible world, that Franklin’s shade, as it is termed, has taken a different route, &c.”
Meanwhile, the ferment of the public mind over the British Treaty was now so intensified, that the people were becoming frantic with rage. Jay was hung in effigy, and the democratic press poured forth upon his head an untiring volley of misrepresentation and abuse. In Virginia, there was an open threat of secession, in case of the treaty being ratified. At Boston, there were riots. The treaty reached America in March, but was not presented to the Senate till early in June; but its articles got wind, in some way or other, and were fully discussed by the press and the radical clubs long before being entertained by the Legislature.
An opportunity soon occurred, for Mr. Cobbett to produce another apology for Anti-Gallic principles. A pamphlet appeared, in the course of the summer, under the title of “The Letters of Franklin,” dealing with the treaty question, in a strongly dissuasive manner.[13]
In August, therefore, Mr. Bradford had another work, at the hands of the now-celebrated Peter Porcupine, entitled, “A Little Plain English, addressed to the People of the United States, on the Treaty, &c., in answer to ‘The Letters of Franklin.’ ” This is, in some respects, one of the best of Cobbett’s writings. It is almost purely argumentative, and there is a sobriety of tone, and a seriousness about its logic, which contrast well with the humour, and even buffoonery, in which he had previously indulged. There was less to joke about. His opponents (and especially this “Franklin”) were becoming illogical in their rage. Mr. Madison wanted to force all the nations of Europe, and especially Great Britain, into the acceptance of a commercial treaty; and this one, alas! was positively being carried through in a friendly spirit. England was noted for her perfidy and double-dealing, and they therefore could not make a treaty with her; but, as Mr. Cobbett pointed out, her bad character was rather a reason for binding her hands, and controlling her overreaching ways. And, as to the magnanimity of the French Republic, and its desire to “protect” its sister, it was clear that little could be hoped for on that score, seeing that she was losing part of her own colonies and making war upon the remainder; besides that it was notorious that French privateering was quite as bad as English, as far as it could go, in its depredations on American commerce. In reality, Cobbett’s aim was to deter the Americans from a French alliance, as “Franklin’s” desire was to secure it. And “Franklin,” so ridiculous as to urge the impeachment of the President, for not having courted the French, and for having sent “the slave, the coward, the traitor” Jay (of all men) as envoy to Great Britain, is fairly, but mercilessly exposed.
“A Little Plain English” soon appeared in London, being reprinted by Rivington, and was instantly welcomed with the applause it deserved. It was considered to prove, to every impartial mind, that the engagement entered into between the two countries was honourable to both. The eloquent and sparkling language, in which his ideas were conveyed, raised the author into the first rank of English writers. And, on account of his loyal sentiments, with their anti-revolutionary bias, Mr. Cobbett was declared, by people at home, to have rendered inestimable services to his native land.
The British Treaty was, however, in far greater peril than could be averted by the soundest arguments or the warmest loyalty. Whilst the treaty was being discussed throughout the States, an incident occurred which eventually laid bare the real source of the danger which threatened the amicable negotiations; that danger proved to be French intrigue.
The incident alluded to was one of that class which furnish the sensational parts of a melodrama, where a fortunate chance renders nugatory the craftiest of plans, and buries your villain beneath the ruin of his own devices. One Captain Goddard (the hero of the piece, and, of course, a British Tar) has the ill-luck to fall into the hands of a French privateer. The latter, proceeding homeward from the American shores, and in charge of despatches from Fauchet, the French envoy at Philadelphia, is herself obliged, in turn, to strike her colours to a British frigate, almost within sight of home. Her captain, pursuant to instructions, goes below to secure Fauchet’s despatches; and, as the frigate’s boat approaches, commits the precious documents to the waves. But there’s a British Tar aboard, who, with instinctive readiness understanding the situation, plunges into the sea, and secures the packet, is picked up by the boat, and checkmates “Mossoo.” And Captain Goddard, as he stands dripping on the deck, little knows what a prize has fallen to his turn!
For, these intercepted despatches contained highly-compromising matter. A certain member of Washington’s administration, Edmund Randolph,[14] Secretary of State, was a thorough-paced Radical, and an opponent of the President’s policy. Up to the end of July, or the beginning of August, 1795, he had led the opposition to the treaty; and, although the Senate and the people had become not only reconciled to its provisions, but desirous that the affair should be settled, Washington still felt unable to conclude it, on account of the dissensions in his Cabinet. But, on the 14th of August, Randolph being absent from the council, the treaty was ratified. The surprise of the latter was great, when he heard of this sudden deliberation; and, on learning the cause, his only resource was to resign his appointment, and to go home and consider his future. For it actually appeared, that one of the French Minister’s letters thus intercepted described an interview with Randolph, in which the latter, and two or three other persons, expected pecuniary assistance in return for their support of French ascendancy. So, when the English Embassy produced these precious documents, just received from London, and urged the immediate ratification of the treaty, there was only one course for Washington to pursue, viz. to accede to the request. Mr. Randolph was in sufficient disgrace; but he was foolish enough to make it widely known, by devoting more than a hundred pages of octavo to full details of the circumstances which led to his abrupt departure from office.[15] These pages were given to the public about the middle of December; and among that eager public was Mr. William Cobbett—who saw his opportunity.
So, on the 1st of January, 1796, is announced “A New Year’s Gift to the Democrats; or, Observations on a Pamphlet, entitled, ‘A Vindication of Mr. Randolph’s Resignation,’ by Peter Porcupine;” which turns out to be a very smart piece of writing, calculated to disturb the equanimity of every French sympathizer in the States.
The preface to “A New Year’s Gift,” &c. is worth giving in full:—
“The Democrats and I have long been in the friendly habit of making presents to each other; and, this being a season of the year when an interchange of civilities of this kind is more particularly looked for, I was just turning about me for a subject that might serve as some little