Continental Monthly , Vol. 6, No. 1, July, 1864

'It was almost beyond the range of politics. It had no constitutional change to seek, no interest to promote, no prejudice to gratify, not even the national welfare to advance. Its clients were a despised race in a distant clime—an inferior type of the human family—for whom natures of a higher mould felt repugnance rather than sympathy. Benevolence and Christian charity were its only incentives. On the other hand, the slave-trade was supported by some of the most powerful classes in the country—merchants, shipowners, planters. Before it could be proscribed, vested interests must be overborne—ignorance enlightened—prejudices and indifference overcome—public opinion converted. And to this great work did Granville Sharpe, Wilberforce, Clarkson, and other noble spirits devote their lives. Never was cause supported by greater earnestness and activity. The organization of the society comprehended all classes and religious denominations. Evidence was collected from every source to lay bare the cruelties and iniquities of the traffic. Illustration and argument were inexhaustible. Men of feeling and sensibility appealed with deep emotion to the religious feelings and benevolence of the people. If extravagance and bad taste sometimes courted ridicule, the high purpose, just sentiments, and eloquence of the leaders of the movement won respect and admiration. Tracts found their way into every house, pulpits and platforms resounded with the wrongs of the negro; petitions were multiplied, ministers and Parliament moved to inquiry and action.... Parliament was soon prevailed upon to attempt the mitigation of the worst evils which had been brought to light, and in little more than twenty years the slave trade was utterly condemned and prohibited.'

And this magnificent result sprang from a Public Association. In this, the most noble crusade that has ever been undertaken by man, the newspapers bore a conspicuous part, and though, as might be expected, they did not all take the same views, yet they rendered good service to the glorious cause. But this tempting subject has carried us away into a rather lengthy digression from our immediate topic. To return, therefore:

In 1786 there was a memorable action for libel brought by Pitt against The Morning Herald and The Morning Advertiser, for accusing him of having gambled in the public funds. He laid his damages at £10,000, but only obtained a verdict for £250 in the first case, and £150 in the second. In 1789 John Walter was sentenced to pay a fine of £50, to be exposed in the pillory for an hour, and to be imprisoned for one year, at the expiration of which he was ordered to find substantial bail for his good behavior for seven years, for a libel upon the Duke of York. In the following year he was again prosecuted and convicted for libels upon the Prince of Wales, the Duke of York, and the Duke of Clarence, but, after undergoing four months of his second term of one year's imprisonment, he was set free, at the instance of the Prince of Wales. The last trial for libel, previous to the passing of Fox's libel bill, was that of one Stockdale, for publishing a defence of Warren Hastings, a pamphlet that was considered as libellously reflecting upon the House of Commons. However, through the great exertions of Erskine, his counsel, he was acquitted.

In 1788 appeared the first daily evening paper, The Star, which continued until 1831, when it was amalgamated with The Albion. The year 1789 is memorable for the assumption of the editorship of The Morning Chronicle by James Perry, under whose management it reached a greater pitch of prosperity and success than it ever enjoyed either before or since—greater, in fact, than any journal had hitherto attained. One of the chief reasons of this success was that he printed the night's debates in his next morning's issue, a thing which had never before been accomplished or even attempted. Another secret of Perry's success was the wonderful tact with which, while continuing to be thoroughly outspoken and independent, he yet contrived—with one exception, hereafter to be noticed—to steer clear of giving offence to the Government. He is thus spoken of by a writer in The Edinburgh Review: 'He held the office of editor for nearly forty years, and he held firm to his party and his principles all that time—a long time for political honesty and consistency to last! He was a man of strong natural sense, some acquired knowledge, a quick tact, prudent, plausible, and with great heartiness and warmth of feeling.' His want of education, however, now and then betrayed him into errors, and a curious instance of this is, that on one occasion, when he meant to say 'epithalamia,' he wrote and printed 'epicedia,' a mistake which he corrected with the greatest coolness on the following day thus: 'For 'epicedia' read 'epithalamia.'

The next event of importance is the appearance of Bell's Weekly Messenger, in 1796, a newspaper that met with immediate success, and is the only one of the weeklies of that period which have survived to the present time. The year '96 is also remarkable for an action brought by The Telegraph against The Morning Post, for damages suffered by publishing an extract from a French paper, which purported to give the intelligence of peace between the Emperor of Germany and France, but which was forged and surreptitiously sent to The Telegraph by the proprietors of The Morning Post. The result was that The Telegraph obtained a verdict for £100 damages. In 1794, The Morning Advertiser had been established by the Licensed Victuallers of London, with the intention of benefiting by its sale the funds of the asylum which that body had recently established. It at once obtained a large circulation, inasmuch as every publican became a subscriber. It exists to the present day, and is known by the slang sobriquet of the 'Tub,' an appellation suggested by its clientèle. Its opinions are radical, and it is conducted not without a fair share of ability, but, occasionally venturing out of its depth, it has more than once been most successfully and amusingly hoaxed. One of these cases was when a correspondent contributed an extraordinary Greek inscription, which he asserted had been recently discovered. This so-called inscription was in reality nothing but some English doggerel of anything but a refined character turned into Greek.

In 1797, Canning brought out The Anti-Jacobin as a Government organ, and Gifford—who began life as a cobbler's apprentice at an out-of-the-way little town in Devonshire, and afterward became editor of The Quarterly Review in its palmiest days—was intrusted with its management. The Anti-Jacobin lasted barely eight months, but was probably the most potent satirical production that has ever emanated from the English press. The first talent of the day was engaged upon it; and among its contributors we find Pitt, Lord Mornington, afterward Marquis of Wellesley, Lord Morpeth, afterward Earl of Carlisle, Jenkinson, afterward Earl of Liverpool, Canning, George Ellis, Southey, Lord Bathurst, Addington, John Hookham Frere, and a host of other prominent names at the time. The poetry of The Anti-Jacobin—its strongest feature—has been collected into a volume, which has passed through several editions. This journal was the first to inaugurate 'sensation' headings; for the three columns which were respectively entitled 'Mistakes,' 'Misrepresentations,' 'Lies,' and which most truculently slashed away at the opponents of the political opinions of The Anti-Jacobin, decidedly come under that category.

We have now arrived at another era of persecution. Those were ticklish times, and Pitt, fearing lest revolutionary theories might be promulgated through the instrumentality of the press, determined to tighten the reins, and curb that freedom of expression which, after an interval of rest from prosecution, was manifestly degenerating. Poor Perry was arraigned on a charge of exhibiting a leaning toward France, and he and his printer were fined and sent to prison. Pitt really appears to have had good ground for action, in one instance, at least, for The Courier had made certain statements which might fairly be construed as hostile to the Government, and favorable to France. Moreover, it was stated in the House of Commons by the attorney-general, that a parcel of unstamped newspapers had been seized in a neutral vessel bound to France, containing information 'which, if any one had written and sent in another form to the enemy, he would have committed the highest crime of which a man can be guilty.' Among other things, the departure of the West India fleet under the convoy of two frigates only was noticed, and the greatest fears were expressed for its safety in consequence. Another thing mentioned was, that as there was to be a levy en masse in this country, the French would not be so ill advised as to come here, but would make a swoop upon Ireland. A bill was brought forward, the chief provisions of which were that the proprietors and printers of all newspapers should inscribe their names in a book, kept for that purpose at the stamp office, in order that the book might be produced in court on occasion of any trial, as evidence of the proprietorship and responsibility, and that a copy of each issue of every newspaper should be filed at the stamp office, to be produced as good and sufficient evidence of publication. A vehement debate followed, in the course of which Lord William Russell declared the bill to be an insidious blow at the liberty of the press; and Sir W. Pulteney said that 'the liberty of the press was of such a sacred nature that we ought to suffer many inconveniences rather than check its influence in such a manner as to endanger our liberties; for he had no hesitation in saying that without the liberty of the press the freedom of this country would be a mere shadow.' But the great speech of the debate was that of Sir Francis Burdett, who did not then foresee that the time would come when he himself should make an attack upon the press.

'The liberty of the press,' he said, 'is of so delicate a nature, and so important for the preservation of that small portion of liberty which still remains to the country, that I cannot allow the bill to pass without giving it my opposition. A good Government, a free Government, has nothing to apprehend, and everything to hope from the liberty of the press; it reflects a lustre upon all its actions, and fosters every virtue. But despotism courts shade and obscurity, and dreads the scrutinizing eye of liberty, the freedom of the press, which pries into its secret recesses, discovering it in its lurking holes, and drags it forth to public detestation. If a tyrannically disposed prince, supported by an unprincipled, profligate minister, backed by a notoriously corrupt Parliament, were to cast about for means to secure such a triple tyranny, I know of no means he could devise so effectual for that purpose as the bill now upon the table.'

Spite, however, of this vigorous opposition, the bill passed, and among other coercive measures it decreed heavy penalties against any infringement of the stamp act, such as: 'Every person who shall knowingly and wilfully retain or keep in custody any newspaper not duly stamped, shall forfeit twenty pounds for each, such unstamped newspaper he shall so have in custody'—'every person who shall knowingly or wilfully, directly or indirectly, send or carry or cause to be sent or carried out of Great Britain any unstamped newspaper, shall forfeit one hundred pounds,' and 'every person during the present war who shall send any newspaper out of Great Britain into any country not in amity with his Majesty, shall forfeit five hundred pounds.' Stringent measures these, with a vengeance! The onslaught initiated by Parliament was well seconded by the judges, and Lord Kenyon especially distinguished himself as an unscrupulous (the word is not one whit too strong) foe to the press. To such an extent was this persecution carried, that the printer, publisher, and proprietor of The Courier were fined and imprisoned for the following 'libel' upon the Emperor Paul: 'The Emperor of Russia is rendering himself obnoxious to his subjects by various acts of tyranny, and ridiculous in the eyes of Europe by his inconsistency. He has now passed an edict prohibiting the exportation of timber deal,' etc. To fine a man £100 and imprison him for six months for this was a little overstepping the mark, and a reaction soon followed, as a proof of which may be noticed the act 39th and 40th George III., cap. 72, which allows the newspaper to be increased from the old regulation size of twenty-eight inches by twenty to that of thirty inches and a half by twenty.

William Cobbett now makes his bow as an English journalist. He was already notorious in America, as the author of the 'Letters of Peter Porcupine,' published at Philadelphia; and, upon his return to England, he projected an anti-democratic newspaper, under the title of The Porcupine, the first number of which appeared in November, 1800. It was a very vigorous production, and at once commanded public attention and a large sale. Nevertheless it was but short lived, for the passions and fears to which it ministered soon calmed down; and, its occupation being gone, it naturally gave up the ghost and died. Among other celebrities who now wrote for the newspapers are Porson, the accomplished but bibulous Greek scholar and critic; Tom Campbell, several of whose most beautiful poems first appeared in the columns of The Morning Chronicle, Charles Lamb, Southey, Wordsworth, and Mackintosh. These last five wrote for The Morning Post, and raised it, by their brilliant contributions, from the last place among the dailies—its circulation had actually sunk to three hundred and fifty before they joined its ranks—to the second place, and caused it to tread very closely upon the heels of The Chronicle. Tom Campbell, besides his poetry, wrote prose articles, and was also regularly engaged as a writer in The Star. Porson married James Perry's sister, and many scholarly articles which graced the columns of The Morning Chronicle toward the close of the eighteenth century are generally believed to have emanated from his pen. Mackintosh had written foreign political articles in The Oracle and Morning Chronicle, but, marrying the sister of Daniel Stuart, the proprietor of The Morning Post and The Courier, he transferred his services to those journals, as well as occasionally to The Star, which belonged to a brother of Stuart. Southey and Wordsworth's contributions to Stuart's papers were principally poetry. Charles Lamb's contributions were principally short, witty paragraphs, which he contributed to any of the papers that would receive them, and for which he received the magnificent remuneration of sixpence each! Coleridge had first appeared in the newspaper world as a contributor of poetry to The Morning Chronicle, but was soon after regularly engaged upon The Morning Post and The Courier. Some of his prose articles have been collected together into a volume, and republished with the title of 'Essays on His Own Times.' He was especially hostile to France, and the best proof of the ability and vigor of his anti-Gallican articles is that Napoleon actually sent a frigate in pursuit of him, when he was returning from Leghorn to England, with the avowed intention of getting him into his power if possible. The First Consul had endeavored to get him arrested at Rome, but Coleridge got a friendly hint—according to some from Jerome Bonaparte, and according to others from the Pope, who assisted him in making his escape. Bonaparte had probably gained intelligence of the whereabout of Coleridge from a debate in the House of Commons, in the course of which Fox said that the rupture of the Peace of Amiens was owing to Coleridge's articles in The Morning Post, and added that the writer was then at Rome, and therefore might possibly fall into the hands of his enemy. Napoleon was very much irritated by the attacks upon him in The Morning Chronicle as well as by those in Cobbett's Political Register—The Porcupine under a new name—the Courrier François de Londres—the French emigrés' paper—and L'Ambigu, which was rather a political pamphlet, published at periodical intervals, than a regular newspaper. He therefore thought proper peremptorily to call upon the English Government to put these papers down with a high hand. But the British cabinet sent this noble reply:

'His Majesty neither can nor will in consequence of any representation or menace from a foreign power make any concession which may be in the smallest degree dangerous to the liberty of the press as secured by the Constitution of this country. This liberty is justly dear to every British subject; the Constitution admits of no previous restraints upon publications of any description; but there exist judicatures wholly independent of the executive, capable of taking cognizance of such publications as the law deems to be criminal; and which are bound to inflict the punishment the delinquents may deserve. These judicatures may investigate and punish not only libels against the Government and magistracy of this kingdom, but, as has been repeatedly experienced, of publications defamatory of those in whose hands the administration of foreign Governments is placed. Our Government neither has, nor wants, any other protection than what the laws of the country afford; and though they are willing and ready to give to every foreign Government all the protection against offences of this nature which the principles of their laws and Constitution will admit, they can never consent to new-model those laws or to change their Constitution to gratify the wishes of any foreign power.'

But Napoleon indignantly declined to avail himself of the means of redress suggested to him, and continued to urge the English Government; who at length made a sort of compromise, by undertaking a prosecution of Peltier, the proprietor of L'Ambigu. Mackintosh was his counsel; and in spite of his speech for the defence, which Spencer Perceval characterized as 'one of the most splendid displays of eloquence he ever had occasion to hear,' and Lord Ellenborough as 'eloquence almost unparalleled,' Peltier was found guilty—but, as hostilities soon after broke out again with France, was never sentenced. The best part of the story, however, is, that all the time ministers were paying Peltier in private for writing the very articles for which they prosecuted him in public! This did not come out until some years afterward, when Lord Castlereagh explained the sums thus expended as 'grants for public and not private service, and for conveying instructions to the Continent when no other mode could be found.' The trial of Peltier aroused a strong feeling of indignation in the country; the English nation has always been very jealous of any interference with its laws at the dictation of any foreign potentate, as Lord Palmerston on a recent occasion found to his cost.

Cobbett was soon after tried for a libel—not, however, upon Napoleon, but upon the English Government. There must have been an innate tendency in Cobbett's mind to set himself in opposition to everything around him, for whereas he had made America too hot to hold him by his anti-republican views, he now contrived to set the authorities at home against him by his advanced radicalism. He had to stand two trials in 1804, in connection with Robert Emmet's rebellion. On the second of these he was fined £500, and Judge Johnson, one of the Irish judges, who was the author of the libels complained of, retired from his judicial position with a pension. These reflections in question upon the Irish authorities would hardly be called libels now-a-days, consisting as they did chiefly of ridicule and satire, which was, after all, mild and harmless enough. In 1810, Cobbett got into trouble again. Some militia soldiers had been flogged, while a detachment of the German Legion stood by to maintain order. Cobbett immediately published a diatribe against flogging in the army and the employment of foreign mercenaries. He was indicted for a 'libel' upon the German Legion, convicted, and sentenced to two years' imprisonment, to pay a fine of £1,000, and to find security in £3,000 for his good behavior during seven years—a sentence which created universal disgust among all classes, and which was not too strongly designated by Sydney Smith as 'atrocious.'

The Oracle—which, by the way, boasted Canning among its contributors—was rash enough to publish an article in defence of Lord Melville. The House of Commons fired up at this, and, led on by Sheridan—quantum mutatus ab illo!—Fox, Wyndham, and others, who had formerly professed themselves friends to the liberty of the press, but who were now carried away by the virulence of party spirit, caused the publisher to be brought before them, and made him apologize and make his submission upon his knees.

In 1805 appeared The News, a paper started by John Hunt and his brother Leigh, then but a mere boy, but who had, nevertheless, had some experience in newspaper writing from having been an occasional contributor to The Traveller, an evening paper, that was afterward amalgamated with The Globe, which still retains the double title. The year 1808 was fruitful in prosecutions for libels, but is chiefly remarkable for the appearance of Hunt's new paper, The Examiner. This was conducted upon what was styled by their opponents revolutionary principles, an accusation which Leigh Hunt afterward vehemently repudiated. This same year also gave birth to the first religious paper which had as yet appeared, under the name of The Instructor, as well as to The Anti-Gallican, which seems to have quickly perished of spontaneous combustion, and The Political Register, an impudent piracy of the title of Cobbett's paper, and directed against him. In 1809, Government passed a bill in favor of newspapers, to amend some of the restrictions under which they labored. This was done on account of the high price of paper: and yet in the following year another attempt was made to exclude the reporters from the House of Commons. These men had always done their work well and honestly, although in their private lives some of them had not borne the very best character. A capital story is told of Mark Supple, an Irish reporter of the old school, who was employed on The Chronicle. One evening, when there was a sudden silence in the midst of a debate, Supple bawled out: 'A song from Mr. Speaker.' The members could not have been more astonished had a bombshell been suddenly discharged into the midst of them; but, after a slight pause, every one—Pitt among the first—went off into such shouts of laughter, that the halls of the House shook again. The sergeant-at-arms was, however, sent to the gallery to ascertain who had had the audacity to propose such a thing; whereupon Supple winked at him and pointed out a meek, sober Quaker as the culprit. Broadbrim was immediately taken into custody; but Supple, being found out, was locked up in a solitary chamber to cool his heels for a while, and then having made a humble apology, to the effect that 'it was the dhrink that did it,' or something of the kind, was set at liberty. But the reporters at the period of this unjust and foolish exclusion—for it was successful for a time—were a very different class of men; and Sheridan told the House that 'of about twenty-three gentlemen who were now employed reporting parliamentary debates for the newspapers, no less than eighteen were men regularly educated at the universities of Oxford or Cambridge, Edinburgh or Dublin, most of them graduates at those universities, and several of them had gained prizes and other distinctions there by their literary attainments.' It was during this debate that Sheridan uttered that memorable and glowing eulogium upon the press which has been quoted in the first of the present series of articles.

It has been shown that at one time the church was the profession which most liberally supplied the press with writers; but now the bar appears to have furnished a very large share, and many young barristers had been and were reporters. The benchers of Lincoln's Inn endeavored to put a stop to this, and passed a by-law that no man who had ever been paid for writing in the newspapers should be eligible for a call to the bar. This by-law was appealed against in the House of Commons, and, after a debate, in which Sheridan spoke very warmly against the benchers, the petition was withdrawn upon the understanding that the by-law should be recalled. From that time to the present, writing in the newspapers and reporting the debates have been the means whereby many of the most distinguished of our lawyers have been enabled to struggle through the days of their studentship and the earlier years of their difficult career.