not know. He only appears paradoxical because he upheld tradition
against fashion. A paradox is a fantastic thing that is said once: a
fashion is a more fantastic thing that is said a sufficient number of
times. I could give numberless examples in Cobbett's case, but I will
give only one. Anyone who finds himself full in the central path of
Cobbett's fury sometimes has something like a physical shock. No one who
has read "The History of the Reformation" will ever forget the passage
(I forget the precise words) in which he says the mere thought of such a
person as Cranmer makes the brain reel, and, for an instant, doubt the
goodness of God; but that peace and faith flow back into the soul when
we remember that he was burned alive. Now this is extravagant. It takes
the breath away; and it was meant to. But what I wish to point out is
that a much more extravagant view of Cranmer was, in Cobbett's day, the
accepted view of Cranmer; not as a momentary image, but as an immovable
historical monument. Thousands of parsons and penmen dutifully set down
Cranmer among the saints and martyrs; and there are many respectable
people who would do so still. This is not an exaggerated truth, but an
established lie. Cranmer was not such a monstrosity of meanness as
Cobbett implies; but he was mean. But there is no question of his being
less saintly than the parsonages believed; he was not a saint at all;
and not very attractive even as a sinner. He was no more a martyr for
being burned than Crippen for being hanged.

Cobbett was defeated because the English people was defeated. After the
frame-breaking riots, men, as men, were beaten: and machines, as
machines, had beaten them. Peterloo was as much the defeat of the
English as Waterloo was the defeat of the French. Ireland did not get
Home Rule because England did not get it. Cobbett would not forcibly
incorporate Ireland, least of all the corpse of Ireland. But before his
defeat Cobbett had an enormous following; his "Register" was what the