sentiments of loyalty, or to foster a spirit of resistance against the inroads of power.2 The country was accordingly overflowed with tracts of every size and of various denominations, many of them displaying great courage, and being written with uncommon ability. Mercury was the prevailing title, generally qualified with some epithet; and the quaintness peculiar to the age is curiously exemplified in the names of some of the news-books, as they were called: the Dutch Spye, the Scots Dove, the Parliament Kite, the Screech Owle, and the Parliamentary Screech Owle, being instances in point. The list of Mercuries is almost too full for publication. There was Mercurius Acheronticus, which brought tidings weekly from the infernal regions; there was Mercurius Democritus, whose information was supposed to be derived from the moon; and among other Mercuries there was the Mercurius Mastix, whose mission was to criticise all its namesakes. It was not, however, until the reign of Queen Anne that a daily paper existed in London—this was the Daily Courant, which occupied the field alone for a long period, but which ultimately found two rivals in the Daily Post and the Daily Journal, the three being simultaneously published in 1724. This state of things continued with very little change during the reign of George I., but publications of every kind increased abundantly during the reign of his successor. The number of newspapers annually sold in England, according to an average of three years ending with 1753, was 7,411,757; in 1760 it amounted to 9,464,790; in 1767 it rose to 11,300,980; in 1790 it was as high as 14,035,636; and in 1792 it amounted to 15,005,760. All this time advertising was a growing art, and advertisements were beginning to make themselves manifest as the main support and chief source of profit of newspapers, as well as the most natural channel of communication between the buyers and sellers, the needing and supplying members of a vast community.
Numb. 49
Domestick Intelligence,