Remarks on the Importance of the Study of Political Pamphlets, Weekly Papers, Periodical Papers, Daily Papers, Political Music, &c. — Reading Notes

The Rhetoric of Impertinence and Utility

The pamphlet begins by defining 'impertinence' in social settings—the pert coxcomb, the solemn fop, the frothy declaimer—before exempting the pamphlet writer from this charge. The author argues that a pamphlet buyer is never compelled to purchase; if deceived by a title page, he has no right to complain. This legalistic framing subtly defends the genre against accusations of triviality. The writer then claims that no pamphlet is wholly useless, as it can always serve some purpose, unlike a conversation or sermon that merely tires the audience. This contrast between printed ephemera and live speech is a key structural device: the pamphlet is portable, dismissible, and therefore less offensive than the bore who monopolizes a room.

Historical Warnings and the Credulity of Nations

The author marshals examples from Roman history—Marius, Sylla, Catiline, Pompey, Caesar—to show how secret machinations of patricians and plebeians ruined the republic. These conspirators were all Romans, just as the Jesuits in France and Portugal were Frenchmen and Portuguese, and the plotters under Charles I, Charles II, and James II were Englishmen (with a few Scots). The point is that credulity, the 'daughter of Stupidity and Ignorance,' has destroyed many nations. The author urges readers not to shut their ears to 'the cries of the streets' nor turn away from 'the lamentations of the news-papers.' The press is presented as a corrective to the outward appearances of loyalty and virtue that mask conspiracy.

The New Political Art: Learning Discarded

The author claims to have read almost every pamphlet and paper published in the last five years on political subjects, with 'equal delight and astonishment' at their wit and spirit. He then announces a recent discovery: the study of history, laws, treaties, and political systems is 'mere loss of time, and downright pedantry.' This is illustrated by a story about Montesquieu, who allegedly spent twenty-five years on two small volumes, dashed them against a wall, and only published because the wall returned them. The modern politician, by contrast, needs no learned dust; the direct road to political composition has been found. This satirical swipe at erudition serves to elevate the plain, immediate voice of the pamphlet over systematic knowledge.

The Voice of the Multitude vs. Hired Mourners

The author warns against dismissing popular outcry as the 'counterfeit tears' or 'hired mourners' of faction. The groans and wailings in newspapers are not the snarling of ravenous faction or the braying of a deluded mob; they are 'the genuine voice of the venerable and sacred multitude,' neither provoked by private resentment nor bribed nor awed. This personification of the public as a single, noble entity contrasts with the earlier catalogue of impertinent speakers. The pamphlet thus oscillates between defending the common reader's judgment and satirizing the pretensions of learned politicians. The final appeal is to listen to the streets and papers—a democratic epistemology embedded in an ironic, learned frame.

Readers should approach this pamphlet as a layered performance: its surface argument for studying ephemera is undercut by its own learned allusions and ironic self-deprecation. The author's voice shifts between the humble scribbler and the erudite critic, making the work a specimen of the very genre it defends. Pay attention to how the writer uses classical and contemporary examples not as straightforward evidence but as rhetorical moves in a game of persuasion. The pamphlet rewards those who read it as both a political argument and a satire of political argument itself.

That 1765 pamphlet, with its quiet insistence on the plain voice of citizens, stayed with me through the dripping eaves. It made me think of how arguments echo down the years. Later, shelves yielded a Saratoga reply—a countersuit, really. Its patient unraveling felt familiar, like finding the other side of a conversation I'd started alone. A Review and Exposition, of the Falsehoods and Misrepresentations, of a Pamphlet Addressed to the Republicans of the County of Saratoga, Signed, "A Citizen" — A Closer Reading became that afternoon's quiet counterpart.