This page seeks to outline some of the narratives contained within the material and linguistic sign-system(s) of the Examiner.

 

The Examiner: A Sunday Paper

 

 

The sale of everything on Sundays except milk and mackerel was illegal in England at the beginning of the 19th century (13 Aspinall). By an Act of Charles II's reign, those caught selling newspapers faced a fine of five shillings and the confiscation of their property. Still, sabbatarians felt these penalties were inadequate considering the decline in the value of money through the seventeenth century, and made concerted efforts to increase the penalties. There were, of course, a variety of Sunday newspapers sold in England. The first Sunday newspapers made their appearance in 1780. Criculation peaked in the 1790's when the Observer peaked in sales. Perhaps as a response to to this growth, Lord Belgrave in 1799 introduced a Bill to Parliament for "the suppression of the sale and circulation of newspapers on the Lord's Day" (Parliamentary Reigster, liii. 608, 30 May 1799; quoted in 15 Aspinall). In 1812, however, sales continued unabated: There were at least eighteen Sunday newspapers, with sales from 1,000 to 12,000 per week (Savage 12). It seems the law was enforced with more rigor in Ireland than England; at the turn of the century, Ireland had no Sunday newspapers, and magistrates at the end of the eighteenth century interjected in a project to establish one (Ibid).

 

The debate concerning the virtue of these Sunday newspapers lasted well into the 1840's. In the March 1840 issue of the Quarterly Review, it was written that no "decent houses" would take in Sunday newspapers, which were bought by "shop boys and milliners' apprentices" (Quarterly Review, lxv. 444-5). Aspinall notes the two-fold danger of these Sunday papers: They were at once a threat to the observance of the sabbath (those distributing the papers were prevented from attending Sunday church services), and were wrought with inflammatory material considered by many to be tawdry and, worse yet, seditious. Most of the Sunday newspapers were read in public-houses, themselves filled with members of the working class, then a danger to the shrinking power of English aristrocracy. An anonymous letter, dated 4 November 1819, to Lord Sidmouth reflects this concern: "Your Lordship can have no idea what passes every Sunday morning at the shops which the metropolis abounds, where these infamous vehicles of treason are sold. Walk up the Strand only and see the crowds of purchases there" (our italics, 14 Aspinall).

 

 

"Party is the madness of many for the gain of the few": Swift and the Examiner

 

 

Leigh Hunt chose to frame the Examiner with a quote from one of the more (in)famous satirists of the 18th century, Jonathan Swift. The title of the Examiner itself also copies the namesake of the Tory journal of which Swift became editor in 1710. Swift's political affiliations were somewhat in flux throughout his life, as he switched between both Tory and Whig affiliations. Hunt himself wrote in his autobiography that it was not, in fact, Swift's politics he sought to emulate, but rather Swift's inimitable satirical style: "It was named after the Examiner of Swift and his brother Tories. I did not think of their politics. I thought only of their wit and fine writing, which, in my youthful confidence, I proposed to myself to emulate; and I could find no previous political journal equally qualified to be its godfather (173). As it turns out, Hunt incorrectly attributed the quote to Swift, which was actually written by one of Swift's good friends and literary contemporaries, Alexander Pope. This mistake would later be corrected in the 1820's, and the epigraph would bear Pope's name. Regardless of authorship, the epigraph itself strikes at the tone--both jocular and politically independent--that permeates the Examiner throughout its years under Hunt's stewardship.

 

 

George III and "Madness"

 

 

The concept of "madness" of the Examiner's epigraph likely carried with it particular contextual resonances. George III, King of England at the beginning of the 19th century, suffered from long and sustained bouts with mental illness. In fact, the paper carries many accounts and updates of the King's health. Given Hunt's frequent editorial attacks on the ruling government, his choice of a quote equating "madness" and "politics" is particularly meaningful. We might perhaps speculate that George III literally embodied the sort of political contagion, afflicting both Tories and Whigs, against which Hunt and the Examiner rallied. Nowhere in his correspondence does Hunt speak to this particular linkage, but it is important to note that such an attack would have far superseded the libelous content ("The Prince" and Seditious Libel at the turn of the Century) for which Hunt was eventually imprisoned.

 

 

 

8 1/2 d : Taxation and the  (Quarto) Examiner

 

 The price of the Examiner was the result of over a century of political meddling and indirect censorship of the press by the British monarchy. In 1712 Queen Anne's Tory minister sought additional revenue, and censorship of the Opposition Press, by creating a tax on newspapers, pamphlets, and advertisements. The 1712 Act defined a pamphlet, charged with a duty of two shillings, thus: any paper exceeding one sheet, and not exceeding six sheets in octavo, or twelve sheets in quarto (the Examiner consisted of 16 sheets in quarto, and thus avoided the stiff tax levied against pamphlets), or twenty sheets in folio. Again in need of greater revenue streams during the Seven Years' War and the American Revolution, newspaper taxation was increased to 1 1/2d. The Pitt government of 1789 increased the newspaper stamp to 2d. Again, in the year 1797, the tax on newspapers, vis-a-vis government stamps, increased to 3 1/2d. In 1809, all papers were entitled to a 16 percent discount if the price did not exceed 6 1/2d, including duty. The 1812 price of the Examiner, minus stamp, totaled 5d, guaranteeing the journal the aforementioned discount.

 

 

Parliamentary Debate

 

The Examiner devotes a great quantity of its pages to transcriptions of parliamentary debates. Apprising the reading public of government discourse very much stood in line with Hunt's desire for a greater deal of governmental transparence and accountability. By 1771, the House of Commons had tacitly abandoned its right to prevent the publication of a record of its proceedings (35 Aspinall). At the beginning of the 19th century, Parliament was not yet regarded primarily as a legislative body; rather, its function was viewed as financier for and safeguard against the Crown's power. Parliamentary news was of singular interest to British citizens of the period, and the right to publish the debates of parliament provided newspapers was nearly unrestricted access to this news source. The relinquishing of the debates to public record was not, however, without dissent. Many members of Parliament feared that publication of these debates debased the dignity of the House of Common, and conspired to create political discontent amongst the readers of the nation. Although there remained a Standing Order of the House at the turn of the century which allowed any stranger to be taken into custody by the Serjeant-at-arms, only on rare occasions was this power excercised. Below is a rendering of 19th century parliamentary debate and the reporters who transcribed the event:

 

 

 

Couresty of Answer.com

 

 

 

While reporting on the debates, reporters sat in what was known as the "Strangers' Gallery." In a letter from William Woodfall to Henry Addington, dated 25 November 1790, the Strangers' Gallery is described: "They were packed like sardines in a tin on the back row of the gallery, jostled by members' constituens ... bankrupts, lottery-office keepers, footmen and decayed tradesmen  passing and repassing the seats they occuped" (36 Aspinall; Mss., William Woodfall to Henry Addington)

 

 

 In absentia: Advertisements

 

While advertisements were popular in the newspapers at the beginning of the century, they were conspicuously absent from issues of the Examiner in 1812. Leight Hunt proffers insight into this absence in the paper's 1808 Prospectus. "NO ADVERTISEMENTS WILL BE ADMITTED," Hunt emphasized in capital in bold, capitalized letters, continuing to inveigh that "The public shall neither be tempted to listen to somebody in the shape of a wit who turns out to be a lottery-keeper, nor seduced to hear a magnifent oration which finishes by retreating into a peruke or rolling off into a blacking-ball" (Blunden xi). Advertisments, as manifestations of the nascent industrial capitalism of the period, had indeed begun permeate the mediascape of the time. Advertisements, provided for by the government, were the major source of income for newspapers at the time; the absence of such income certainly contributed to the lofty cost of the Examiner.

 

 

The Hebdomadal Hand 

 

There is, unfortunately, little commentary on one of the more interesting signs of the Examiner: Leigh Hunt's signature of the "pointing hand" at the conclusion of his editorials. We can assume intuitively that the "pointing hand" meant to signal out and call attention to the importance of Hunt's socio-political commentary, and perhaps to capture the import of his authorial status. To his contemporaries, Hunt's association with his symbolic signature was no secret. Blackwood's Magazine attacked Hunt (and his association with the Cockney School), by referring to him as the "hebdomadal hand": "But Leigh Hunt will not be quiet. His hebdomadal hand is held up, even on the Sabbath, against every man of virtue and genius in the land; but the great defamer claims to himself an immunity from that disgrace which he knows his own wickedness has incurred,--the Cockney calumniator would fain hold his own disgraced head sacred from the iron fingers of retribution" (Blackwood's Magazine, no iii., July 1818). It should also be noted that Hunt in 1819 began a journal titled The Indicator, a clear and poignant reference to the popularity (and marketability?) of his symbolic signature.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Works Cited

 

Aspinall,  A. Politics and the Press: 1780-1850. London: Home & Van Thal Ltd., 1949.

 

Altick, Richard. The English Common Reader. London: Chicago UP, 1957.

 

Barnhurst, Kevin G.. Seeing the Newspaper. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1994.

 

Hunt, Leigh. Autobiography of Leigh Hunt., ed. J.E. Morpurgo. London: Cressett Press, 1949.

 

Savage, James. An Account of the London Daily Newspapers. London, 1811.