republicanism which had already taken place;[3] other testimony, of similar bearing, could be adduced, but it is hardly necessary for our purpose, considering the amount of support which Cobbett received during the whole period of his residence in America. There seems to have been, in point of fact, a Federal majority from the very first—and, when the European war broke out, early in 1793, this section of the nation sympathized, generally speaking, with the English. A strong anti-British feeling prevailed, however, among the Democrats, which was displayed in the most fiery and intemperate language,[4] and found particular vent in a hearty enthusiasm for the French cause. The first outbreak of the French revolution was hailed with joy by the extreme republicans; and, at last, when Mr. Pitt came to think that England was called upon to declare war against France, in defence of the old European doctrines, this hatred of England was naturally intensified. Washington’s proclamation of neutrality was in vain, to check the ardour of the pen-and-ink warriors; and the constant arrival of proscribed persons was just so much fuel added to the flames. Another outbreak of war, between England and America, was even apprehended; and would have taken place, but for the moderate counsels which prevailed in the minds of Washington and his advisers.
At this juncture, there arrived as ambassador to the United States, one Genest,[5] a man eminently fitted for the useful task of stirring up strife; and it is, indeed, difficult to believe that the man was not selected with this object in view. Of the strongest republican principles, he thoroughly scorned the traditions of diplomacy; and landed at Charleston [April 1793] more with the air of a newly-appointed provincial governor than with that of envoy from a friendly nation. Several weeks elapsed before he presented his credentials to Washington: meanwhile, he was actually engaged in superintending the fitting-out of privateers! And on his arrival at Philadelphia there were festivities and congratulations, and speeches, to be attended to, before he could condescend to wait upon the President. His subsequent conduct was all of a piece with this; till, the President having found it necessary to repudiate a French vice-consul on account of his gross infractions of neutrality, Genest’s high-toned appeal upon the matter obliged Washington, at last, to consider the question of demanding his recall. This was effected in the following year.[6]
But all this did not happen without largely affecting the temper of the American people. Although Washington generously distinguished between the conduct of the minister and “the friendly spirit of the nation which sent him;” although, as Jefferson records, the Government were “determined to see, in these proceedings, but the character of the individual, and not to believe that they were by instructions from his employers,” yet it was undoubtedly a new spur to the active spirit of democracy. The Philadelphia politicians, especially, raved and stormed over the iniquities of Britain and the virtues of France.
A more serious trouble to the American Government arose, soon after the war between England and France had continued some time. As, when the young Republic was fighting for its life, they had been assisted by the French, so they now shipped large aids, chiefly in the shape of provisions, to the French ports. These cargoes were unquestionably contraband; and the British Government, holding that view, ordered that all American vessels be detained—those laden with corn to be seized—and a reasonable price to be paid for the cargoes and freights. Later on, another order was issued, directed against American cargoes which consisted of provisions and stores for the French colonies. All this naturally irritated the Americans; they considered it simply an infraction of their independence; and they were not disposed tamely to yield to a power which, in the eyes of many, was not unlikely to dream of future reconquest.
Some alarm was also aroused by the conduct of the British troops in Canada, who retook possession of certain frontier forts, which had been ceded to America at the treaty of peace. At the same time, public attention was directed to a conference held between Lord Dorchester, the Governor of Canada, and several Indian tribes; on which occasion language was held by the Governor, which seemed to carry with it a willingness on the part of England to proceed to hostilities, upon a given contingency.
Fortunately, however, the disposition of the American Administration was such, that the fury of the Democrats was powerless to disturb its equanimity; and the only serious step, which the Government was induced to take, was to lay an embargo upon the British shipping in American ports, for the space of thirty days.[7] It was necessary, however, to come to an understanding; accordingly, an envoy, in the person of Mr. Jay, repaired to England with full powers, in the hope that existing difficulties might be removed, and a proper feeling of amity be secured, between the two nations.
Mr. Jay’s mission was eminently successful, as regarded the two Governments; but the Treaty in which it resulted only served to make the breach wider, that existed between the Democrats and their opponents. His return to America was signalized by an unexampled storm of invective and abuse; and Jay had, in fact, to retire from public life.[8] The principle that the flag does not cover the merchandise was the feature which gave the greatest offence; but the real objections were sentimental, and were, in fact, brewing as soon as Jay’s appointment as envoy became known.[9] The treaty was the work of the Washington administration, the members of which were known to be favourably disposed towards England; and it was considered likely to injure the relations existing between America and France. Its opponents maintained, from the first, that the disposition of Great Britain being naturally hostile to the United States, there could be no prospect of real reciprocity; and, when the document arrived, their first thought was that its ratification would give umbrage to the French. That, if the United States could convert the evil disposition of England into one of amity and peace, the projected treaty would be too high a price to pay for the change; and if there must be war with either Great Britain or France, it were “more politic for the state, and more congenial with the sentiments of the people, to engage the former,” as France would give aid “with all the energy of her triumphant arms;” whilst, in the case of a war with France, the Americans could neither count upon the affections, nor rely upon the power, of Great Britain.
But what served, much more, to augment the numbers and vehemence of the Radical party, and to foment bad feeling between the two countries, was the constant stream of refugees from the United Kingdom. Mr. Pitt’s repressive measures were in full force; and the year 1794 witnessed some of the most glaring instances of tyranny that had been displayed in England since the days of James the Second. Frequent trials for “sedition” only served to inflame and to energize the spirit of free inquiry; and men boldly talked of revolution. Some suffered imprisonment, many more managed to escape; and of those who escaped, many found a free asylum in Pennsylvania. Some of these men were of good education and great natural ability; and all were inspired with the hopes of the day: an imminent deliverance of mankind, generally, from all kinds of despotism whatsoever.
So, this is how it was in Philadelphia, in these lively times. The most enlightened and philosophical city in the United States was, at the same time, the hot-bed of democracy: the home of all that was aspiring in the human heart and mind. Thus, we can understand something of the feelings which animate the breast of Mr. William Cobbett, ardent Loyalist. He knows little of theoretical politics; his short experience of republicanism has only, at present, served to show him that man is little better off as the subject of a sovereign people, than as a subject of a sovereign king; provided that similar constitutional principles prevail. His recollections of Tom Paine’s animated book, and his former enthusiasm for republicanism, are—as in the minds of thousands of his cotemporaries—crushed and buried beneath the torrent of blood and tears which has been shed in France. A natural reaction has set in: his native land, with all her faults, comes back to his memory as a land of average comfort and well-being; and the thought is uppermost that, perish “liberty and equality,” if all
